Powerplay: Hot Down Under (2 page)

The grass, damp from the late spring night, tickled the bare soles of Tellerman’s feet as he studied the house. The ground floor sat in darkness, the windows and doors all closed. But on the second floor …

Tellerman crouched behind an old eucalypt, the last big tree on the perimeter where wild bush ended and lawn began. His stare remained fixed on that lone, muted light.

He didn’t have a watch. It was currently sitting in the box marked
Tellerman, Brad—Personal Effects
back at the pen, but by his guess it was somewhere in the vicinity of two am. Whoever was home wouldn’t be expecting visitors.

A grin pulled at the edges of his mouth.

This was one “drop-in” he was going to enjoy.

Sam stared down at his wife. “Get on your back.”

She complied, rolling over, her beautiful face still, her eyes burning blue fire.

God, she was beautiful. And fierce. The strength that made her such a powerful force in the banking industry coursed through her even now. Even as she lay, submissive and obedient to his every whim, he could see it warring with her need to surrender to his mastery.

His cock twitched. It was time.

Climbing back onto the bed, he straddled her hips, letting his swollen, heavy balls rest on the smooth curve of her mons. “Spread your legs.”

The friction of her thighs moving under his butt was like hot electricity. Holding his breath, struggling to control the tension threatening to overwhelm him, he slid back, his cock nudging the soft pink lips of her pussy. Her musky juice slicked his flesh, filled his breath. God, he wanted her like never before.

Reaching between them, his fingers found the little nub of flesh that was her clit. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over that sensitive little button, revelling in the soft moan of rapturous capitulation low in Nicky’s throat. Chest tight, balls tighter, he slid his fingers between the satiny lips of her folds, opening her sex to his invasion.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he commanded, flicking his eyes from the glistening slit his fingers had revealed to the blazing gaze of his wife.

Nicky moaned again, pushing harder against his fingers.

“Tell me!”

“I am at your mercy.” The declaration was low. Husky. “You are my controller. My master. I am yours in every sense of the word.”

It was what he was waiting for. With a savage thrust of his hips, he buried his cock deep into his wife’s slick, tight sex.

Scalding pleasure ripped through his body as her damp channel engulfed him completely. Her hips rose and her thighs spread wider. His steel-hard rod penetrated her deeper, sliding into her gripping pussy until his balls slammed against her arse cheeks.

“Oh Sam!” Her nails sank into his shoulders and her legs hooked around his hips.

He dropped his head, capturing her mouth with his, catching her cries and punishing her for her outburst with his teeth and tongue. Nicky writhed beneath him, fighting him and submitting to him. It was the horniest thing Sam could imagine, his powerful, successful ball-busting wife reduced to a creature of base, carnal response.

His creature.

His pet.

Liquid heat licked through him, gathering, gathering. Like a ball of explosive energy centred in the very core of his being. He was on the edge, dangling over sweet oblivion. His balls throbbed, his cock ached, became harder, harder, harder, until …

Nicky’s pussy constricted, sucking at his cock. “Sam, please …”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ!”

Spasms of exquisite release rocked through him. He bucked and thrashed, driving his cock faster. Deeper. “Christ all-fucking-mighty!”

“Please, Sam,” she begged, gripping him with her legs, her hands. “Please don’t stop!”

Even her insubordination couldn’t stop the orgasm seizing him. Consuming him.

His heart hammered. His blood roared in his ears.

Cum erupted from him. Drained him.

Nicky’s nails clawed at his back, his shoulders, as she desperately tried to reach the peak with him. “Sam …”

Holy …

“Fuck!” he shouted with one final and violent thrust.

Body slicked with sweat, he slumped forward, flattening Nicky back against the bed. “Christ, hon,” he groaned into the mattress, his chin pressing into Nicky’s shoulder. “That was—”

There was a loud and totally unexpected bang downstairs. Followed by the sound of glass shattering.

Sam shoved himself up onto his elbows. “Shit,” he spat, his cock still buried in his wife’s pussy. “Shit, did you hear that?”

“Sam?” Nicky whispered. Her eyes were ablaze with ferocious sexual craving, the orgasm he’d denied her still burning within her, but now her lust fought with a new emotion. One Sam had
never
seen in his wife’s eyes. Fear.

“
Shhhh!
”

Ears pricked, breath held, Sam waited.

Nothing.

He turned back to Nicky. “Maybe it was a—”

A low squeak stopped him. The stairs. Someone was coming up the stairs.

Nicky tensed underneath him. “What the—”

Before Sam could move, the bedroom door burst open and a naked man roughly the size of a Mac truck sauntered in, a Glock in each hand, the weapons almost disappearing in his large fists. “Evening, folks.”

A lot of things happened at once. None of them good.

Sam rolled off his wife and stumbled to his feet, stunned. Nicky sat up and screamed, her naked breasts jiggling. And their new guest barged across the room, grabbing Sam in a vicious one-armed headlock and ramming him against the wall.

The man smirked, his stare holding Sam’s. “Nice of you to invite me in.”

Dull pain began to radiate across Sam’s back and down his spine. With sudden and abrupt ease, his knees gave out. Stomach a fluttering mess, he slid to the floor, staring up at the newcomer. His eyes flicked over the large naked body, past the biggest cock he’d ever seen, past the gut that rippled with fat and muscle, past the chest that looked capable of pressing a locomotive. Up to the face. He
knew
that face. Fifteen years ago that face had been plastered across the media every day for almost twelve months.

Sam’s stomach rolled. “You’re Brad Tellerman,” he croaked.

“That I am,” their naked guest replied, a snide grin twisting his lips. “Glad to see I’m still famous.”

Nicky froze on the bed, her eyes growing wide. “Brad Tellerman? The man that kidnapped and murdered the prime minister’s daughter? But you’re in—”

“Prison?” A dark laugh filled the bedroom. “Not anymore.” Still towering over Sam, he gave the room a quick scan. “I’ve cut the phone lines and smashed both your mobiles. Very considerate of you to leave them downstairs, by the way. Thanks for that. Made it much easier to cut us all off from any interruptions.” He turned his gaze on Nicky before grinning down at Sam. “Looks like I’ve arrived right on time for some fun.” He levelled the Glock in his right hand at Sam’s face, the barrel tapping Sam’s cheek once, just below his eye. “Don’t even think about moving from that spot, boyo.”

Sam whimpered. “Please don’t hurt me. Take what you want, I won’t try and stop you.” He flicked a quick look at his naked wife on their bed, and then returned his gaze to Tellerman, hoping to fuck his wordless message was clear.

Nicky stared at him, her expression closed. Unreadable.

The escaped prisoner smirked. “What a generous offer. You don’t want to spoil my fun, do you?”

“N-no sir.” Sam shook his head, trying to make himself as small as possible on the floor. His balls were already trying to shrink back into his body and his bladder felt just about ready to let go.

“I’m so glad.” Tellerman’s grin stretched. He gave Sam a very long look, from his ankles to his eyes: slow and thorough and all-encompassing. “You think I deserve to have some
fun
, doncha?”

Mouth dry, heart racing, and bowels growing looser by the second, Sam nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

Tellerman beamed. “Then let’s get to it.”

Turning from Sam he crossed the room to the bed. Standing there for a moment, his dark gaze slid from Nicky to Sam and back to Nicky. Very slowly, yet very purposefully, he climbed onto the bed. Large hands planted on either side of Nicky, Tellerman leaned towards her. Sam clenched his fists, watching helpless as Tellerman’s sheer proximity pushed Nicky back flat onto the mattress. The intruder’s dark eyes flicked to Sam again—
don’t be a hero, buddy
—they said, just before Tellerman dropped his head down to Nicky’s, pressing his lips against her smooth neck.

Hot gratitude flooded Sam. Gratitude and something far more malicious. Hope. Tellerman’s attention was on Nicky. Maybe he was going to get out of this alive after all?

He watched as the escaped criminal loomed over his naked wife, watched as the man nuzzled at her neck, her ear. Watched her lips move with inaudible words. Was she begging for mercy? For her life?

Perhaps, if Sam played his cards right …

In a fluid and frighteningly quick leap, Tellerman was off the bed. Those burning eyes turned on Sam one more time, pinning him to his spot on the floor. Sam swallowed, unable to look away.

Silent, that twisted little grin still playing with his mouth, Tellerman crossed the bedroom and disappeared into the ensuite.

Okay, Sam, this is your chance …

He looked at Nicky, prone on the bed. “Nicky,” he hissed, petrified of Tellerman hearing what he was going to say. “Nicky!”

His wife rose up on to her elbows, staring at him with unreadable eyes.

“You know who that is,” Sam hurried on, not wasting time with reassuring words. “He’s been in prison for fifteen years. He obviously likes you. I saw how he kissed your neck. I don’t want to die tonight, Nicky. I don’t. Just let him do whatever he wants to you. Whatever. Don’t resist. Don’t complain. This is not the time to bust balls, Nicky. If you please him we might make it out of this alive.” He flicked his eyes towards the ensuite door. “Just be strong, honey, and remember I love you.”

There was a still moment when Nicky didn’t move. Didn’t react at all. For a split second Sam wondered if she heard him. Perhaps she was so petrified she was in shock?

He was about to hiss her name when a slow and thoroughly satisfied smile curled the sides of her mouth.

“He wasn’t kissing my neck, Sam,” she said, her voice far from a terrified rasp. “He was whispering in my ear.” Her grin stretched wider. “He told me he’s gay and he thinks you’re cute. He asked me if we keep any Vaseline in the ensuite.”

Her smile turned cold, her eyes flinty. “Be strong, honey. I love you, too.”

Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn't stopped since. She's not a deviant, but she does have a deviant's imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get erotic romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire. Sometimes all at once.

When she's not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie's life revolves around her family: a husband who thinks she's insane, a indoor cat who likes to stalk shadows, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.