Cherise Sinclair - If only

Her throat squeezed the tip of his increasingly sensitive cock as she swallowed and swallowed again.

Fuck that felt good.

And he breathed out, not moving so he could savor her warmth around him. Her tongue made lazy circles as his shaft decreased in size.

Finally, he pulled back and bent to kiss the top of her head. “Thank you, Sally. You were wonderful.”

The flush that stained her cheeks showed her happiness at having perfectly served her Dom. And she had.

Little witch. With every flash of sweetness she showed, she was pulling him further under her spell.

Stroking her hair gently, he nodded at Vance, who had slowed to let Sally focus on the blowjob.

“My turn?” Vance picked up the packet of lube he’d placed on an unused stool. After ripping it open, he spread Sally’s cheeks apart and drizzled the contents over her asshole.

COOL LIQUID DRIPPED onto her overheated flesh. Onto her asshole. What the heck? Sally’s head came up so fast her neck almost got whiplash. “What are you doing?”

Galen laughed, his hand still rested on her hair in the most comforting way. “He’s just playing this time. You’re not ready for more.”

More. Hell, she knew they’d want that. The other submissives had said as much. The Feds’ penchant for anal sex was just one of the reasons she hadn’t particularly wanted to be with them. Anal wasn’t high on her list of favorites. At least not for anything the size of a cock. Every time she’d allowed the act, she’d regretted giving in to a Dom’s pressure.

But, oh God, what would it be like with these two? They were so…different, always so careful. They treated her like something—someone—special.

And yet, even as they cared for her, they took what they desired. And she wanted that sense of being overpowered, mentally and physically. Needed it.

A tremor ran through her as Vance’s cock slid in and out of her pussy, slow and inexorable.

His strong hand clasped her right buttock, pulling it apart so…

She squirmed as his thick finger circled her anus, penetrating slightly before withdrawing. Every time his cock pulled back, Vance pushed in his finger, slowly but surely working his way deeper.

Nerve after nerve flared awake, like birthday-cake candles being lit until the entire region was flaming brightly.

“There we go, sweetheart. No more today,” he said, caressing her bottom, his cock deep inside her. Filling her. “I hope you enjoy anal plugs, because you’ll be wearing one every day until you can take me.”

A shudder shook her—and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

He laughed, and his hand moved to take her right hip in a tight, ruthless grip. “Ready?”

No!

A moan escaped her as he set up a mind-blowing rhythm by alternately impaling her anus with his finger and her pussy with his cock. The effect confused her senses as her body responded, pressure inside growing in an undeniable way. Her breathing turned to fast panting as she knew—knew—she was going to come again. His thrusts grew more powerful, sweeping her before them, pushing her up a mountain. Pinning her on the edge of a precipice over an abyss.

Her ass tilted up, begging for more, for one more, one more.

“All right, sweetie,” he murmured. As he slammed into her with his cock, her insides clenched around him, and this time, he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he pushed his finger deep, deep into her back hole, filling her completely. Throwing her off the cliff.

“Oh, oh, oh.” The sparkling nerves erupted with the fury of a wildfire, taking over her body, making her buck and cry out. The sensations ripped through her, the pleasure almost unbearable. She gripped the legs of the stool as she mewed and shook, unable to escape from his grip, his impaling finger, his cock.

She heard him laugh, echoed by Galen, and then he powered into her as he sought his own satisfaction. He felt even bigger. Huge. As she still shook from the strength of her orgasm, he pressed deep and groaned as he came.

And oh God, she loved that feeling, the knowledge that she, Sally, had given him that pleasure.

The nice thing about dirt roads in the Catskills was he could easily tell if someone was following him. Drew Somerfeld stopped on a rise, got out of his vehicle, and checked his back trail. The dirt hanging in the air was from the tires. The soughing wind ruffled the spruce and fir forest; a creek gurgled over rocks. All quiet—aside from the whimpering of the woman in the trunk. She must have been wakened by the bumpy road.

He slapped the metal to shut her up and climbed back into his car.

A half hour later, he pulled to a stop in front of the isolated cabin he’d bought for his twin. Best decision he’d ever made. His brother couldn’t cope with civilization, but he functioned fine if interactions were kept to only one or two people. No noise, no distractions.

In the turmoil of a city—or mental institution—Ellis couldn’t cope. Here, he did very well, with an occasional outing to satisfy his obsession.

Drew’s lips curled. He’d been quite clever to turn Ellis into the Association’s private executioner.

On the rough excuse for a porch, his brother rose from the ugly chair he insisted on carting around wherever he went. Burn marks covered the chair’s wooden arms.

Hell, his brother was no prettier. White burn scars marred Ellis’s left cheek and jaw, and his eyelid was puckered, pulled askew, giving him a monster-like appearance. Mesmerized at watching their father die in the fire, Ellis had stayed too long. Almost died under the collapsing roof.

Before the fire, he’d been as handsome as Drew. He’d never been as stable though.

Drew had been born first. Their mother always said Drew was greedier, blaming him as if an unborn child could have decided something like that. But the fact was Ellis had been deprived of oxygen, and he just wasn’t as…bright. Or balanced. Something in his brain was off.

But Drew saw to it that he never lacked for anything. Who knows, maybe he owed his twin that.

AS HIS BROTHER got out of his car, Ellis grinned, expectation rising inside him. Had Drew brought a replacement slave?

The job on Tillman had been fun. Ellis had done exactly what his twin wanted, and enjoyed every minute. Especially killing his former slut in front of Tillman, seeing the cop’s helpless fury. Afterward, he’d burned the house to ashes around the lawman and his wife—and hey, he’d even added Tillman’s mother-in-law to the mix. Fun times.

But hauling the slave’s body back out to the car had been an effort. Might have strained his back. Drew’s fucking hired gun hadn’t helped at all, said his job was to guard, not to carry.

But Ellis had followed the rules since his twin was fussy about the body count being right. And once he’d gotten the body into the car, it hadn’t been that difficult to dispose of her in a deep body of water. The fish had to eat too.

Heh. Clever Drew. He’d been the one to realize they could use a bloody, terrified slave to gain entrance to a target’s house.

And Ellis did enjoy making sure each woman was bleeding like a stuck pig. Even gave each one a broken bone or two to ensure they were really crying. Begging to get in.

The door to the house always opened right up. The woman would go through, and Ellis would follow right after. Definitely fun times.

But Drew had decreed no witnesses, so each fire meant he’d lose that slave.

Drew always brought him a replacement. Had he this time?

“Do you have something for me?” He couldn’t help hurrying forward. New slaves were always fun.

Drew grinned and opened the trunk, yanking out a young blonde woman. Blindfolded, handcuffed, wearing leg shackles. “One pretty treat for you, Ell.”

Oh yeah, indeedy yeah. “I like the blonde ones.”

“But you gotta make her last this time. The Feds are getting too close, so I’m shutting down a lot of the services.”

“Right.” Ellis scowled. That meant he wouldn’t be burning anyone for a while either. “I only killed one by accident.”

“True. You’ve done well.” Drew patted his arm. “And you did a fine job with the Tillman fire.”

* * *

In a spacious Orlando hotel ballroom, Galen moved through the crowd of celebrating graduates and their friends and families. The music from the orchestra was soft, allowing people the option of dancing or being able to hold a conversation. At one end of the room was a buffet table. A well-stocked bar had been set up in another section, and Vance had headed there to procure drinks.

Galen turned slowly in a circle. His task was to spot a curvy, long-haired brunette in the midst of all these people. A short woman. No longer limping—unlike him—since her ankle had mended nicely in the four days since the asshole’s attack. But since she knew her ankle was weakened, she’d chosen to wear flats rather than heels. Smart woman.

He liked that about her. Liked her.

She was still in their home, and he had gotten far too accustomed to her sprawling over him in the night. When she curled next to Vance, her round ass snuggled against Galen’s groin. She had the prettiest heart-shaped ass he’d ever seen.

And the most tempting. Each day he had increased the girth of the anal plug she wore. She was ready for them now, and he looked forward to seeing her come undone. The sweet little imp gave of herself more generously than any woman he’d ever known.