Double-Crossed (7 page)

“I saw a woman fucking a man on his lap, but she faced away from him. On her knees in front of her, another woman licked her clitoris while another man fucked her from behind. That made me come.”

Peter let go of her hair, and she automatically lifted her head back to face him. Still holding her wrists hard, he pressed his face into hers and kissed her forcefully, his tongue getting every piece of her, demanding everything.

Slowly, he released her wrists and pulled back, kissing her softly as he moved away. Marianne stared at him with her eyes open wide. The throbbing between her legs grew so intense that she almost felt she would die without coming soon. Peter lifted his hands to her face and cupped her chin as he planted light, delicate kisses on her lips.

“I told you I knew what you need,” was all he said.

Marianne shifted, straightened her dress, and smoothed her hair. Peter held his palm out to her again, and she took it, stepping out into the streetlight. They walked the next block in silence, looking like any other couple in the street.

Marianne felt immersed in some kind of fog. She couldn't possibly imagine how he could top that when he got her home.

Chapter Four

Marianne's legs and her fingers on the keys turned to jelly as she fumbled at the front door. Refusing to go into the lock, the keys appeared to have a mind of their own, tripping, sliding, and falling out of place at every opportunity.

The facts presented rationally didn't say much for the situation: opening the door to her home, a man on her heels she'd met that day, in a sex shop. On their way home, he'd played rough with her in the street. You couldn't get a more worrying scenario.

Intuition said,
you're safe
, but common sense declared anyone who heard this story would say only an insane woman would let this man into her apartment. Yet here she stood, doing just that.

The door fell open, and Marianne stepped into her small home, with Peter right behind. He turned and locked the door as she walked into the middle of the room.

“Uhm, do you want a…?”

Peter interrupted with a finger pressed against her lips.

Taking the keys from her hand and setting them on the side table, Peter stared directly into her eyes. Reaching around behind her, his insistent hand slid up her side and found the tip to the delicate zipper at the back of the dress. As if caressing her back, he slid the zipper down its full length. He glided his hands over warm, bare skin. Then with a deft movement, he slid the straps of the dress from her shoulders down her arms. The dress bunched at the waist; her hands remained trapped against her body. The flimsy material acted as a kind of binding as Peter dropped his gaze to stare with vampirish hunger at her breasts in their lace bra.

“Don't say anything. Stand as you are for a minute,” Peter said.

The professional voice in Peter's head barked at him to stop, but he refused to comply. His integrity and his relationship with Joe melted into nothing compared to the fundamental drive he felt to take this woman the way he knew she needed to be taken.

To get a good hard look at her, he took a step back. Under his gaze, she'd turned her head away, as if shy. The blush in her cheeks added to the intensity of the moment. Peter's cock filled with pulsing blood as he continued to stare at her breasts nestled in their black lace bra. She kept perfectly still.

She's a natural
, he thought.
As I knew she would be
.

The surge of power, all too familiar to Peter, welled up in a tidal wave, consuming him. The force between them had her quivering, but Peter knew something extreme moved between them that shook them both. He needed to explore this potency, this connection. Now, however, they both needed action.

He stepped forward, again moving in deliciously close, so their lips were almost touching. Reaching around behind her, he unclasped her bra at the back. Holding both ends tight, pulling them around to the front of her body, sliding the black straps from her shoulders, he lowered the bra to her wrists. Her exposed breasts looked vulnerable and enticing; large, creamy mounds of erotic flesh moved in a sensual manner with her gasping breath. Her face turned slightly to the side as she looked down, but Peter recognized the faint flush in her cheeks.

Lifting his hands to her breasts, he tugged on each nipple. They grew in his hands as if reaching for him, responding beautifully to his masterful caresses.

“How do you like your nipples pinched, Marianne? Soft or with more strength?” At first, only her swallows around her gentle panting constituted her response. When she spoke, it was in a ragged whisper.

“I don't know. I think hard. How much will it hurt?”

Gently caressing her breasts, Peter pulled again on the taut nipples, pinching them with a pressure lighter than he planned to use in the future. No need to give away all the surprises. As her head rolled back and she let out a moan, Peter knew he had her exactly where he wanted. He decided to push a little further.

“I know you, Marianne. I see you. I know you're a good woman, but deep inside, you're also an insatiable slut who needs feeding.” She lifted her head a little to listen to his words. “Don't be afraid of what I'm saying. Let it wash over you.” He continued to work her breasts gently while tugging a little harder and pinching her nipples. Wrapped up in the ecstasy of the moment, Marianne's head fell back again.

“You fear the power of the whore inside you and what she'd ask of you, but don't be worried with me. I admire the whore. I want to lure her out while I am in control. I'm going to use dirty talk with you now, Marianne. Is that okay with you?”

Marianne let out another groan. She lifted her head toward him, her eyes glazed over with lust. She attempted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

“I will expect you to answer me when we play like this, Marianne. I'm taking over and giving you what you need, but I want feedback, and I will not proceed without it.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I can handle dirty talk.”

“Can I call you a slut? Will that offend you?”

“No.”

“Can I call you a whore? Will that offend you?”

Peter watched her looking at him, a man she barely knew, lust pouring out of her, still frozen to the spot, her clothes acting to hold her arms to her side. No wonder she feared bringing this to the surface. In her previous environment, who knew where it would have taken her. Under the right kind of domination, she emerged, defenses down. “No, it won't offend me. I know it's part of sex.”

Tendrils of her compliant spirit reached out for Peter with such insistence he felt compelled to push her further. Pounding waves of lust rose and rolled within, forcing him to take deep breaths to gain some control over himself. The issue of his emotional response and the intensity of connection could be tomorrow's problem. Tonight was only about feeding her through the tumult and gently handling the precious thing in his grasp.
Patience, Peter. Look after her first. We'll play harder later
.

Peter took his hands off her breasts and pulled her dress down to her ankles, peeling the bra from her hands. Carefully, he draped the dress and the bra over the back of a chair. Without turning back, he added, “Play with your nipples, Marianne. I want them to stay long, and you'll need to keep them that way.”

It looked as though she'd never done this before, but Peter thrilled to her obvious desire to impress him. Hesitatingly, Marianne moved her hands to her breasts and began to tug hard on her nipples. Peter turned to her and continued his instruction.

“Oh, yes, dirty talk is part of the way we will have sex, but it's also the way that I reach the nasty whore inside you. I want that slut to come out here, and I want her to play with me. In these moments, I'm not interested in your good woman. I'm calling forth the hot slut who is standing in front of me, pulling on her own nipples, and dreaming of having her pussy filled. Is that you? Who are you at the moment?”

Marianne could hardly speak. Her voice came out in a whisper.

“Oh, yes! That is who I am. That's me.”

Peter kneeled in front of her and slid down her black lace panties. As they dragged away from her pussy, strings of thick, clear arousal fluid stuck to the underwear and snail-trailed down her inner thighs.

“I can see what a slut you are from the whore juice leaking out between your thighs.” He pulled her panties off, lifting one leg at a time, and tossed them to the side. “I can smell what a slut you are, and I can hear it in your breathing.” Peter stood again as Marianne moved one hand down toward her pussy. “No, Marianne, no fingers in your whore's cunt just yet. I'll deal with that soon.”

“Ohhhh,” Marianne groaned. “But I need to come. I'm so turned on.”

“I said no. Do you want me to leave now and take this away from you?”

Marianne looked distressed for a moment. “God, no! I'm sorry. I'm new to this. I didn't know.”

Peter looked at her, thinking hard.

“You didn't know, but I knew what you needed as soon as we talked, didn't I? You will have to trust me and let me take what I need from you.” Peter waited for her response. She lowered her eyes. “Now keep tugging at your nipples,” he said, “and spread your legs. I want you to stand so your feet are about shoulder-width apart.”

Without hesitation, Marianne's hands flew back to her breasts, and she set her legs apart. Suddenly the room filled with the scent of feminine arousal, and Peter's cock lurched forward, trapped by its clothing. Marianne still looked straight ahead.

“How did you know?” she asked. “How did you know this would excite me so much? How did you know that I need this as much as I do?”

“It's my job to know. Besides, only a cheap little whore goes to nasty Kings Cross sex shops to pump her cunt out in the back of the store.”

Marianne groaned loudly and threw her head back again, pulling hard on her still fully-extended nipples.

Peter reached forward and stroked his fingers across the swollen labia. Then with two fingers, he gently spread the outer lips open wider and rubbed his thick middle finger against the opening of her hungry pussy. Her pussy burned hot; the intensity of her response excited Peter again. He'd never seen anything like it in all his years of initiating women to the joys of submission. She stood there, so beautiful, so achingly full of lust. It took all his strength to focus on the moment and not fall into a fantasy about what he could teach this woman and where they could go together in the future.

“Open your mouth,” he told her.

Marianne parted her red lips, dark with arousal. Her eyes vacantly focused on an abstract point in front of her. Her vagina poured fluid. It gathered at the tops of her thighs in huge droplets that threatened to run down the inside of her leg. Peter wanted to see that. He wanted to see if he could get her so hot that the wetness would pool enough to drip down her leg.

He pulled his fingers from between her legs and dipped them into her mouth.

“Taste yourself. Taste the juice of a slut's pussy.”

Marianne let her tongue extend from her mouth and rolled it around his fingers. She sucked like a woman dying of thirst, pulling on her nipples as hard as she could, moaning into his hand.

“You love pussy juice, don't you?”

“Oh, yes. Oh, God, yes,” said Marianne when Peter had taken his hand out of her mouth. “I've never had it before, but I want more. Please, put your fingers back in there and feed me more of my wetness.”

Peter smiled. She learned fast. Lust coursed through his veins, making his cock throb in its desperate desire to get out. He took his middle finger and plunged it deep into her aching hole in one move. She moaned and began to hump on it immediately. Peter inserted another finger and rubbed his two fingers together inside her, getting as much of her wetness on his hand as possible. He could feel the thick, gooey lubricant running down his fingers and into the palm of his hand.

He pulled his fingers out of her and placed them immediately back into her mouth, this time thrusting them in deeper to see how much she could take. She relaxed her throat straightaway and sucked, her tongue sticking out and sliding sensuously all over the palm of his hand.

“You love cunt juice, don't you, little whore?”

“Yes!” Marianne struggled to get the word out, her lips still wrapped around the hand pumping into her mouth.

“What else would you eat if I put it in your mouth? I want you to tell me.”

He felt Marianne hesitate. She could hear dirty talk, but engaging in the activity herself obviously confounded her.

“Don't hesitate, Marianne. Just tell me.”

Peter moved his fingers back to her pussy and thrust them in again.

“I'd eat your…your cock. I'd love to suck your cock until you spilled your cum into me.”

Peter added another finger this time, so that three fingers were pulsing in and out of her slick, wet pussy. Marianne moaned and gyrated on his fingers, still pulling on her nipples. She worked with Peter as his fingers moved in and out of her. Her passion built up so much that Peter started to get worried. If they kept that up too much longer, she'd come all over his hand, and that wasn't the place he wanted to feel her pussy throb. His cock pressed into the front of his trousers violently now. He couldn't think of another time he'd been so excited by a woman. An incredibly attractive, intelligent woman reduced to his sex slave in a matter of a few moments.

Peter glanced down at his fingers moving in and out of her vagina and saw two thick globs of lubrication rolling down her thighs.

“You love cocks, don't you?” he murmured, grazing her skin with the fingertips of his other hand. “You love pussy as well. Everything turns you on, doesn't it? That's why you live here, because you don't want to take yourself away from the steam and the sleaze. You're a Kings Cross slut crying out to be used and to have cum dumped into her.”

Peter could feel Marianne building up now. Her vagina clenched around his pumping fingers; she spread her legs much farther and pulled her nipples harder than he'd seen her do all night.