Brazen Seduction (9 page)

Richard knew him better than he knew himself, and certainly knew him well enough to know that he wanted, right now, to fuck Molly.

The dynamic of the lifestyle Alan chose to live decreed that he would never indulge his desires without his master’s permission.

He cast a quick glance at the clock. Tea time. Perhaps he’d get up and make some. After.

Molly had been dozing for nearly an hour. Gently, Alan bent over her and kissed her cheek. When she made a tiny sound in the back of her throat, a sexy waking-up sound, he smiled and kissed her chin.

He lifted her arm, carefully moved it out of his way, and lapped at her right nipple. Molly moaned, this sound rife with awakening arousal.

“You taste good,” he said, his words soft in the late afternoon light. “Delicious and creamy one moment, hot and musky the next.

Your scent turns me on.”

“Mmm. Alan.”

It pleased him she’d already recognized his touch, that she could say his name with such yearning in her voice when only partially awake.

“Yes, Alan. I’m going to have you now.” He moved her off his master, laid her flat. A quick glance in Richard’s eyes assured him their master looked forward to the show he and Molly were about to put on.

He placed a line of kisses with tiny little licks of his tongue from her neck down, until his tongue traced the areola of her right breast.

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“Your nipples are a pretty pink and very sensitive. Look how they pebble for me, Molly.”

Her eyes opened and he watched her, watched as she watched him.

The bed jostled, and Alan didn’t need to look to know his master moved to give them more room. He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and knew Richard picked a good position from which to enjoy watching them.

When Molly arched her back, offering him more, he took it. He trailed one hand down her chest and across her abdomen, until his fingers brushed against her sex.

“I love the feel of your cunt, Molly. Hot. Swollen from use. Wet.” He inserted fingers into her, showing them both, and Richard, the truth of his words. “Mmm, very wet and very hot. Your cunt wants to suck my fingers right in. It’s a hungry little thing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes.” Molly moved her hips, trying to do exactly that—

capture his presence inside her. She moaned and her eyes drifted shut.

“Open your eyes, Molly. Look at me while Alan pleasures you.” Alan felt a thrill course through him. He heard the arousal in Richard’s voice. He loved arousing his master.

Molly obeyed, and Alan felt the increase in moisture when her gaze connected with their master’s.

“Here, let’s move, just a little. Lay your head here, down to the side, so you face our master better.” Alan maneuvered them until she lay crosswise on the bed, on her side, facing Richard. Alan snuggled behind her. He lifted her right leg, draped it back and over his hips, splaying her wide so nothing remained hidden from Richard’s view.

“Mmm, yes. Now he can see your luscious pussy for himself.” He’d grabbed a condom from the bedside table as he’d moved them into position. Now he tore it open with his teeth, needing only one hand to roll it into place.

“I can see it glistening. She looks wet. Ready.” Richard said.

“Are you ready for my cock, Molly?”

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“Yes. Fuck me, Alan.”

He surged into her, shivering in pleasure as his dick pushed all the way inside in one solid thrust. Despite the use they’d put her to over the last several hours, her tunnel gave his cock a firm, hot caress.

“Squeeze me.”

“Mmm.”

He loved the feeling of her muscles clenching around him, gripping and releasing in a stroke he could feel everywhere along his length at once. He met Richard’s gaze, and the heat he found there thrilled and aroused him even more.

“Can you see her pussy stroking me?”

“Like she’s devouring your cock, inch by inch. You look good, Molly. Reach down and play with your clit for me. Now, Alan, you need to hold her breast in your hand, don’t you?” Without hesitation, he reached for the pert flesh. Molly’s hand worked down to her slit, and he felt her juices flow just a bit more when she began to play with her clitoris.

“I’m not going to be able to wait much longer. Tonight, after dinner, I want my cock in your ass while Alan fucks your cunt.”

“Mmm, yes, please, Master.” Molly said.

Alan’s cock reacted to that promise as lustily as Molly’s cunt did.

Just the thought of having his cock surrounded by this passionate woman and being able to feel Richard’s cock with his own at the same time nearly sent him over the edge.

“Master, may I please come?” Alan asked.

In response, Richard got to his feet, his cock as hard as Alan had ever seen it. His smile was lust and love combined. Alan couldn’t help it. He licked his lips, in that moment wanting nothing more than to keep fucking Molly while he sucked his master’s cock.

“Why don’t we all come together?” Richard asked.

His master placed one knee on the bed, bringing him close enough that he could thrust his cock into Alan’s waiting mouth.

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He loved the flavor of Richard’s cock, loved the feel of it in his mouth. The slide and the glide of his master’s hot flesh fed a need in him nothing else could touch.

He glanced down. Molly’s eyes looked wide and lust filled. They were close enough, the three of them, that if she wanted to she could very likely stick her tongue out and get a taste of it, too.

Alan wondered if Richard would order her to or not. And in the next instant, Molly proved that she really did have a penchant for pleasuring two lovers at once. Stretching up just a little, she brushed her lips against Richard’s scrotum.

Richard groaned in pleasure and approval, so Molly followed through, sucking one of his balls into her mouth.

Alan closed his lips around Richard’s cock as it twitched and erupted, sucking every ounce of nectar from him even as his own release exploded out and into Molly’s convulsing clasp.

* * * *

He checked his rearview mirror. The car he’d thought followed him turned off ten minutes before. Since that time, no headlights appeared behind him. A glance at the dashboard clock assured him the witching hour had come and gone.

He’d driven out to the countryside, down roads he didn’t even know, and had never been on before. He needed a good spot, but how would he know which spot would be a good one? Did this road get more traffic than the last one? Was this field less tended than the next one? A stream would be nice, a bridge over a fast moving river better.

But time ran short, and he knew he’d likely find neither stream nor bridge. He felt unsettled, unsure, but who would blame him?

He’d never dumped a body before.

Checking the mirror, he avoided looking into his own eyes. He didn’t mean for Ginny to die. He didn’t even know how it happened.

One minute she was screaming, begging him to stop, and the next she
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passed out. He’d been trying to decide what he would to do her when she awakened, when he realized she hadn’t just passed out.

She’d stopped breathing.

He panicked at first. But then he took a deep breath. Ginny had been his property. Not
the
one, not the perfect one destined to be his, but she’d been his property nonetheless.

Mine to do with as I pleased
.

So he’d sat and thought, and then he knew what he had to do.

He washed her down in the bathtub, removing any evidence of him that may have clung to her. Then he wrapped her in a new sheet, one that had still been in the package—another holdover from his great aunt Sophia’s meaningless existence.

And now here he was, miles out in the middle of nowhere, looking for just the right place to leave her body.

He didn’t care if anyone found her. There was nothing and no one to connect him to her. He wore one of his disguises when he trolled that bar and picked her up—what he thought of as his blameless face.

He never went to a club or fetish bar without changing his appearance. He made a mental note to burn that particular disguise right away.

He’d worn latex gloves from the moment he put her into the tub and wore them still.

He turned down another side road, this one thick with trees on either side. Slowing his car, he checked all around but could see no lights, no sign that anyone lived close by. The road was gravel, not paved, and rough. Deep ditches lined either side of it. Stopping his car, he turned off the headlights and shifted the vehicle into park.

Reaching into the glove box, he depressed the yellow button to open the trunk.

He stepped out of the car and listened. Only the sound of night creatures, of nature, reached him. Cloud cover obscured the moon. He thought he could smell rain in the air. Rain would be good, wouldn’t it? Yes, rain would be perfect.

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Moving quickly, he lifted his burden from the trunk, then stepped to the edge of the roadway. Squatting, he released his bundle and watched as it rolled down into the ditch.

He got back in the car, and drove away less than a minute later.

His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to remind himself to drive slowly.

He’d done it! He’d been faced with a crisis and had handled it without losing his composure.

He could do anything.

As he made his way back to the city, he let his thoughts dwell on the events of this night. He smiled when he realized that just over twenty-four hours had passed between the time when he’d chosen Ginny and now—when he was completely done with her. The time in between served as good practice.

Yes, and he’d been right, of course. Because she’d resembled Molly, he’d lasted longer between ejaculations than ever before. That fact alone reinforced for him that Molly was meant to be his.

He moved his hand down and stroked his cock through his khakis.

He needed to plan how he could lay his hands on her. And maybe, just maybe, he could think of a way to get himself some more practice.

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She’d never before thought of the kitchen as being sexy!

Molly usually avoided kitchen duty of any kind. She’d never quite acquired the knack for putting meals together the way she knew a lot of women did. As a teen in her mother’s house, she’d been drafted more often than she’d wanted. She’d been expected to feed her dad and herself when her mother had one committee meeting or another running late. Her dad didn’t appreciate her efforts—and who could blame him when the food came out looking and tasting like shit? He tended to yell when pissed, so kitchen time to Molly always equaled misery time. Her mom never got her head around the fact that a talent for the domestic arts was never one of her daughter’s gifts. Elyse Durant was an old-fashioned wife and mother. Her life experiences simply didn’t prepare her for a daughter who, for the most part, didn’t aspire to walk in her mother’s footsteps.

So when Richard smacked her ass, kissed her lips, and told her she was more than welcome to lend a hand in the kitchen, Molly threw on one of his shirts—she didn’t have any clothes of her own to wear—and reluctantly, but obediently, trudged to obey.

Besides, the men were there, chattering away, and she wanted to be a part of that. She wanted to be a part of
them
.

“Can you peel some potatoes?” Richard asked and not in a snarky way, either. Peeling potatoes she could do, and the chore passed quickly, spiced as it was amid lively conversation and smart-ass one liners.

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Richard threw a bunch of ingredients into a bowl along with some ground round, and, before she knew it, he had a concoction baking in the oven that smelled heavenly.

Moving about the kitchen with ease as he’d put together the meal, he first poured them each a glass of wine—he called it a very nice Merlot and she, wine ignoramus extraordinaire, took his word for it.

The atmosphere in the kitchen while they worked to put the meal together was one of fun and relaxation, with an underlying hum of flirty arousal.

They turned the phone ringer off at breakfast, so, while she scraped and cut up the spuds, Alan checked their messages. There were only two. One for Richard, from a woman who sounded all sultry and sexy and wondered if he was busy that night.

Molly said nothing, just raised one eyebrow. Richard actually blushed as he shook his head. “That’s Patrice, she’s one of the account execs at my bank. She’s the poster girl for ‘Hope Springs Eternal.’ Every couple of months she tries hitting on me. Gives me the creeps,” Richard admitted.

“Kind of like that Bacchus guy did me yesterday. Gave me the creeps, that is.” Just thinking about the man now made Molly shiver.

“Really? That’s my reaction to him, too. And because that’s how I feel, Richard has never invited him to a party here. Not that we know who he really is in the first place. As far as I know, Jordan is the only one who has access to the man’s real name and address. He only refers to himself as Bacchus.”

Alan returned his attention to the phone. The second message was for him, some Mrs. Smyth-White who sounded frantic about the shade of mauve she’d selected for the paint in her new master bedroom perhaps clashing with the wall hanging she’d bought that Friday afternoon at an estate sale.

“The pros of having the lady as a client still outweigh the cons,” Alan quipped as he picked up his glass, “but not by much and not for much longer at the rate she’s going. I’m going to return her call in the
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office where neither of you have to witness me debasing myself by stroking her rather enormous ego.”

Molly looked at Richard who shook his head in commiseration as Alan left the room. “A lot of owning your own business is customer service. I’ve worked harder since opening my own security-consulting firm than I ever did when I was a detective on the force.”