gently touched his face. He pretended annoyance and insult at her late arrival when really all he wanted to do was make her disappear. It was all the same game, just a different bimbo. None had any clue about his true intentions. They were all pawns in the game, the one he created and mastered.
"I'm sorry, baby ... forgive me?” she whispered.
He pushed aside his annoyance and focused on the strategy. In an instant, he was back into play mode, ready to teach her a thing or two and cure his current ailment.
His hand lay flat against the wall and above her shoulder while he pressed his body against hers. She moved her hips against his arousal.
"You're late!” he scolded, clenching his teeth, envisioning biting her.
"I'm sorry, baby.... I'll make it up to you.” She laid the palms of her hands against the wall in defeat, then closed her eyes and stretched her neck out, asking to be reprimanded.
His lips covered her neck and it was all he could do not to sink his teeth into her flesh.
Quickly, he made his way up her throat with his tongue, nauseated by the taste of cheap perfume, until he caught her lips with his own. He began kissing her, brutally hard.
His other hand rubbed across the sequins on her black, fitted dress until it found her breast. She was small, too thin to really be satisfying, but his body was in need of instant fulfillment. She would do.
"Punctuality is important to me,” he scolded as the sound of little beads scattering across the tile entranceway echoed in his ear. He pulled at her dress, practically ripping it.
His breathing intensified when he lifted the material up and away from her thighs. He felt the clasp, the thigh-high stockings and garter belt.
She was nothing but a slut.
His mind filled with angry thoughts.
"I said I was sorry,” she whispered, then kissed his neck, rubbing her hands down his black dress shirt.
Her hands reached the waist of his pants, undid the black designer belt and pulled the zipper. Then she went to work on him with her mouth.
He watched her, and the muscles in his shoulders tightened. His hands gripped her hair and held it above her head.
Filthy, disgusting slut.
She wasn't his type at all. He craved class, sophistication and intelligence in a woman. Brunettes with well-endowed figures.
He needed to do her, get this date over with and move on to something more satisfying and fulfilling.
He gazed toward the open kitchen, the small television and gray screen and couldn't help but wonder what his little slave was up to. He abruptly pulled the blonde up from her position.
She eyed him, licking her lips. Did she actually think she looked sexy and appealing? If there were a mirror nearby, she would be able to see the streaks of smudged, slut-red lipstick that now spread beyond the lines of her lips.
He abruptly pulled up her dress, wedging his body against hers and the wall. She sank her fake red acrylic nails into his shoulders. He took her right there against the wall.
His body needed fulfillment, and he knew he wasn't getting much from the whore until the thought of slitting her throat brought him to climax.
She was his cover, his protection if the heat turned up. His image was most important because it kept his true identity, his true self and his secrets well hidden.
No one, especially this whore suspected anything.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 3
"Surprise!” everyone yelled as May entered the house with her boyfriend Phillip.
Tears filled May's eyes as she embraced her father then her mother.
"I had no idea. You guys got me.” She gave Phillip a punch in the arm.
Grace watched as Phillip smiled and blushed. It was obvious he loved May and the fact he was five years older and a cop like May's father was a definite plus.
May immediately grabbed Grace to embrace her. “How did you keep this secret, sis?"
"I'm great at keeping secrets. Everyone knows that,” Grace added and May laughed.
"I just had lunch with Grace yesterday and
"I'm sorry, baby ... forgive me?” she whispered.
He pushed aside his annoyance and focused on the strategy. In an instant, he was back into play mode, ready to teach her a thing or two and cure his current ailment.
His hand lay flat against the wall and above her shoulder while he pressed his body against hers. She moved her hips against his arousal.
"You're late!” he scolded, clenching his teeth, envisioning biting her.
"I'm sorry, baby.... I'll make it up to you.” She laid the palms of her hands against the wall in defeat, then closed her eyes and stretched her neck out, asking to be reprimanded.
His lips covered her neck and it was all he could do not to sink his teeth into her flesh.
Quickly, he made his way up her throat with his tongue, nauseated by the taste of cheap perfume, until he caught her lips with his own. He began kissing her, brutally hard.
His other hand rubbed across the sequins on her black, fitted dress until it found her breast. She was small, too thin to really be satisfying, but his body was in need of instant fulfillment. She would do.
"Punctuality is important to me,” he scolded as the sound of little beads scattering across the tile entranceway echoed in his ear. He pulled at her dress, practically ripping it.
His breathing intensified when he lifted the material up and away from her thighs. He felt the clasp, the thigh-high stockings and garter belt.
She was nothing but a slut.
His mind filled with angry thoughts.
"I said I was sorry,” she whispered, then kissed his neck, rubbing her hands down his black dress shirt.
Her hands reached the waist of his pants, undid the black designer belt and pulled the zipper. Then she went to work on him with her mouth.
He watched her, and the muscles in his shoulders tightened. His hands gripped her hair and held it above her head.
Filthy, disgusting slut.
She wasn't his type at all. He craved class, sophistication and intelligence in a woman. Brunettes with well-endowed figures.
He needed to do her, get this date over with and move on to something more satisfying and fulfilling.
He gazed toward the open kitchen, the small television and gray screen and couldn't help but wonder what his little slave was up to. He abruptly pulled the blonde up from her position.
She eyed him, licking her lips. Did she actually think she looked sexy and appealing? If there were a mirror nearby, she would be able to see the streaks of smudged, slut-red lipstick that now spread beyond the lines of her lips.
He abruptly pulled up her dress, wedging his body against hers and the wall. She sank her fake red acrylic nails into his shoulders. He took her right there against the wall.
His body needed fulfillment, and he knew he wasn't getting much from the whore until the thought of slitting her throat brought him to climax.
She was his cover, his protection if the heat turned up. His image was most important because it kept his true identity, his true self and his secrets well hidden.
No one, especially this whore suspected anything.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 3
"Surprise!” everyone yelled as May entered the house with her boyfriend Phillip.
Tears filled May's eyes as she embraced her father then her mother.
"I had no idea. You guys got me.” She gave Phillip a punch in the arm.
Grace watched as Phillip smiled and blushed. It was obvious he loved May and the fact he was five years older and a cop like May's father was a definite plus.
May immediately grabbed Grace to embrace her. “How did you keep this secret, sis?"
"I'm great at keeping secrets. Everyone knows that,” Grace added and May laughed.
"I just had lunch with Grace yesterday and
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