Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 (8 page)

Coming back around, I thought perhaps he’d swirl the whipped cream on my breasts, but instead, he grabbed my legs and slid me so my ass almost hung off the edge.

He propped my calves up on his shoulders. He was broad enough that it spread my thighs just enough. Using one hand, he peeled open my folds, and the next thing I knew, the cold shock of whipped cream was filling my folds.

“Oh,” I exclaimed, lifting up to my elbows so I could watch what he was doing.

He sprayed a generous amount of the white cream all over my middle, then set aside the can. Both his palms slid beneath my ass and lifted, bringing my hips up to give him better access.

Then he dove in.

The contrast of the cold whipped cream against the warmth of his tongue as he literally ate his dessert from the place his dick had just been was delicious.

“Mmm,” he groaned and spread my folds wide open so he could lick up every last trace of the cream. When he was done, his tongue speared my center and slipped inside my body.

My legs were quivering, and I was positive I wouldn’t be able to stand.

At last, he lifted his head and wiped the bottom of his lip with the pad of his thumb.

I’d already had one orgasm, but I felt another one just begging to be set loose. He smiled like he knew and wrapped my legs around his waist so he could dip just the head of his cock in my body. My head rolled from side to side as I lay there on full display in his kitchen.

He rocked gently as he caressed my body, spearing me only slightly and driving me mad.

Finally, when I could take no more, I pushed up to my elbows once more. “Enough,” I demanded. “Either coat your dick in whipped cream for me to eat or shove it deep.”

He smiled slyly and grabbed my hips, forcing them down over his cock. I cried out, and he picked me up, walking toward his bedroom with his cock still inside me.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn. My back hit the bed, and he came over me, looming in the darkness, but I wasn’t afraid. I spread my legs wide, and he slid in.

We went at each other, rocking and slamming our bodies together almost like we were fighting.

Another orgasm hit me fast and hard. I fell back on the bed as it washed over me like a tidal wave. I was still in its throes when I heard him shout and bury himself so deep I felt his balls against my ass.

He convulsed inside me as hot seed filled my body and my inner walls clenched around him. Mr. X fell on the bed beside me, my body sticky and slick with sweat. Between my thighs, I felt his release, and I couldn’t even conjure up any regret we hadn’t used protection.

We lay there a long time in the dark, silent. My body felt like it had just run a marathon, but my God, I was satisfied.

A little while later, he got up and left the room. Somewhere nearby, I heard a shower running, and I figured that was probably my cue to leave.

I pushed up off the bed and stood on still unsteady legs.

He appeared and swept me up again. I fit against his chest like I belonged there, so I couldn’t help but drop my cheek against his shoulder.

We went into the bathroom, just off his master. Everything in there was white marble with veins of gray. The shower was made of glass and had two showerheads, which were both turned on. A rainfall showerhead dropped down from the ceiling, raining drops of water, while the one coming out of the wall looked like the kind that would massage your body.

He stepped inside with me and stood me under the rainfall. I closed my eyes because the way the drops caressed and rolled across my skin was beautiful. The water in here was hot, and the air around us was steamy.

Mr. X picked up a large poufy white sponge and covered it in soap. I surrendered to his ministrations as he washed my entire body, paying close attention to the places he filled with whipped cream.

When he was done and my hair was slicked back, I took the sponge and returned the favor. When he was good and clean, I spent some extra time massaging his balls and playing with his cock.

I liked touching him. His body was like my personal playground, and it seemed nothing I did was off-limits.

Even though we stayed in there what seemed like forever, the water never cooled. By the wall was a marble bench, so I went to it and sat, crooking a finger at him. He came and stood before me.

I sucked his softened cock between my lips and laved up all the water. I didn’t really suck to make him hard, though he didn’t say ultra soft for long. I sucked and played, and he didn’t say a word, just let his hips jut out toward my face.

At one point, I cupped his balls, and he widened his stance, so I slipped my hand between his legs and caressed his taint. He made a sound, so I did it again, this time slipping back a little farther.

In my mouth, his cock jerked.

Taking a chance, I ran my finger around his rim, and his hips thrust forward, his cock slipping deeper into my mouth. I played lightly with his ass, keeping it cautious and not too invasive. I was surprised when his cock grew rigid again, so fast after our sex-fest in the bedroom.

I was even more surprised when my center began to throb.

A few minutes later, he jerked back and picked me up. I was laid out beneath the rainfall, across the floor of the shower. I stared up at him as he stood over me and stroked his cock.

We fucked again, right there on the shower floor beneath the warm rain.

It was wild and slick. He came hard and fast. I was close, but he beat me to the finish line, so once his body was done, he pulled out, grabbed his cock, and worked it over my clit, back and forth, back and forth. The extra wetness from his release swirled around my swollen clit, and in no time, I was shuddering and coming all over the shower floor.

When the shower was over, he wrapped me in a towel and put me in his bed. A few moments later, he slid between the sheets beside me.

I fell asleep with the feel of his body along mine and woke much later to his cock entering me from behind.

We went at each other almost the entire night. I have no idea how he kept getting hard or how I kept getting wet. When at last I was sure my body was spent, I dozed off, only to wake up again when the sun was starting to rise.

Unable to resist, I slid out of the bed and padded back out to the wall of windows in the living room. I watched the sun rise over the city. It was almost as incredible as the sex we’d had last night.

Before I turned away, I noted my handprint marring the otherwise pristine glass, and I smiled.

I walked around the room, gathering up my clothes and slipping them on. I was sore in places I’d never been before, and I was pretty sure if I never had sex again, after last night, I would be sustained forever.

But I would still crave him.

Like chocolate on a late night. Like coffee in the early morning.

I’d have to learn to live with that craving because our night together was over.

In the kitchen, I found a small pad of white paper and a pen. The red cap from the whipped cream was still lying on the floor, long forgotten.

I smiled and picked it up, setting it beside my note:

Thanks for the night to remember, Mr. X.

XOXO ~ Mrs. X

No, we weren’t married, and I didn’t wish we were. But last night, he was my Mr. and I was his Mrs.

I took the elevator down to the main floor of the building and pulled on my coat. Outside on the sidewalk, I signaled for a cab.

Before I got in, I glanced back up at the giant windows I knew were his.

He was standing there watching me.

I didn’t wave. I didn’t have to.

Even from the distance, I felt our eyes connect.

A flush of heat, the kiss of last night’s memory, brushed over my skin.

My hair floated out around me when I turned and slid into the cab. I leaned my head back against the seat as the driver pulled away from the curb.

Good-bye, Mr. X. Maybe someday we’ll meet again.

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The End

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About Cambria Hebert

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C
ambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are:
The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch,
and
Tattoo
.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

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Connect with Cambria Hebert

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Website:
http://www.cambriahebert.com
.

Email:
[email protected]

Facebook:
http://smarturl.co/CambriaHebertFanpage

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/cambriahebert

Pinterest:
https://pinterest.com/cambriahebert/pins/

C
opyright © 2016 Kimi Flores

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Alexa is a fighter. A survivor. But it hadn’t always been that way.

At eighteen, tragedy struck, hurling her into a dark underworld. Freedom became a thing of the past as her new reality unraveled.

Rescued a year later, she vowed to one day get the justice she deserved. However, her road to recovery was long and difficult. Driven by revenge, she fought like hell to prepare herself.

When the opportunity she’s been waiting for arises, she’s quick to seize it.

Her tormentor only knew her as the shattered girl she once was. He has no idea what she’s capable of now. But he’s about to find out how far she’s willing to go.

No matter what it takes, she will get her indemnity.

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**T
RIGGER WARNING...this novel contains non-explicit abuse scenes and there is harsh language throughout. Indemnity is intended for mature readers**

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A
LEXA

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T
he hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as an eerie silence permeated the van. Thick air invaded the cramped, dark space, making it difficult to breath.  As the street lights intermittently flashed through the front windshield, I caught a glimpse here and there of the grave expressions on the girls sitting around me. They made no attempt to cover their defeat while hidden in the quiet shadows of the passenger van. 

Irritated, I coughed a few times and looked out the darkened window. I may not know the reason these girls chose to be here, but it still bugged the shit out of me.

I had to keep my mind on the purpose of the night, though. It had taken a long time for me to get this opportunity, and I wasn’t about to blow it by focusing on the catering staff I’d been able to infiltrate.

Underground parties like the one we were on our way to were top secret and, unless you knew someone on the inside, they were impossible to get into. Thankfully, for a hefty price, someone had dropped a dime on the type of events this catering company’s VIP clientele threw.

The same type of event I’d been rescued from shortly after my nineteenth birthday.

There was normally at least one snitch in these groups who was willing to fork out information as long as they made a quick buck on the side. We still didn’t know who was behind this particular trafficking ring, but we knew exactly who was throwing tonight’s party.

I picked nervously at my manicure. It’d been six years since I’d been freed. Despite all of the therapy, training, and education I’d gained since then, I was still filled with anxiety, knowing I was about to come face to face with the man who’d abused me over and over again. He may not have abducted me, but he sure as hell took advantage of my captivity.

Just thinking about him made my blood boil. I hated that motherfucker and couldn’t wait to see him exposed for the slimy son-of-a-bitch he was. All the vile things he’d done to me raced through my mind. 

Even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good, I was working myself up just thinking about him. I needed an outlet whenever I got like this. Normally, I’d go out for a run or attack a punching bag at the gym, but right now I was stuck in this hot van, fidgeting in my seat. The driver’s cigarette smoke was starting to get to me.

The bitter side of me wanted to turn my anger on the women crammed in this tight space with me. Why would anyone willingly agree to work these events and pass out hors d’oeuvres, as if nothing fucked up was happening around them? Granted, the shadier stuff took place behind closed doors. But between the degrading comments from the partygoers and the mostly naked, strung out, bruised girls, there was no way to mask what was going on.

Before my rescue, I’d been on the other side, watching the blank stares of the wait staff and begging with my eyes for just one of them to help me.

But no one ever had.

How in the hell could a person with a conscience simply walk away at the end of their shift after witnessing another human being humiliated then dragged away to be tortured?

I wanted to lash out at these girls for being so damn selfish, but then I heard the girl next to me swallowing hard like she was trying to keep the bile from rising in her throat. I’d been doing the same thing since we’d gotten in the van. 

I clenched my fists in my lap and puffed out a calming breath. What right did I have to judge any of them? My goal for the night was to get my own selfish justice when I should’ve been focused on saving the enslaved girls that would inevitably be there. Just like I’d once been.

The van skidded to a stop, forcing a few of us forward and out of our seats.