Page 81 of Freaks Of Nature
I’m keeping this video for later use too.
I spread her legs into a wider stance and adjust my own knees for balance. Aligning myself at her entrance, I push in just the tip, then press record on the screen.
A breath bursts from her lips as her tight cunt welcomes me back. With my left hand at her side for leverage, I thrust my hips at her, my cock spearing her up to the hilt.
Emily trembles. Every time I retreat and plunge in deep, I force more whimpers from her.
But shedoestake it.
Her body readily absorbs the ruthless assault of my thrust, and fuck, does she feel good.
My grip on her waist slips from my building momentum. She’s so fucking slick everywhere.
My hand leaves her side. With a turn of my wrist, I settle it at the base of her spine.
When my thumb traces the crease of her ass down, she reads my intent.
Her voice trembles. “Ash…”
I can’t tell if it’s disapproval in her tone or her heightening arousal.
I circle the hole greedily with more pressure, holding my breath. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she groans, clutching the sheets in her fists. “Fuck. Yes.”
I exhale. “That’s my girl… taking it in both. That’s my good fucking girl,” I praise, nudging my thumb into her.
The glide is smooth, lubed by our combined arousal and the cream that dripped down her cunt. Her body makes it easy. Her tight rim stretches to swallow what I give.
Emily’s muscles twitch. Her movements grow stiff, and her breaths turn to short huffs. She’s going to come.
But the moment her walls clamp down on me and her lungs release that exquisite cry of ecstasy, it’s not the only thing I hear.
My ears catch the sound of a distinct roar.
Mace
Since we’re on call for Mr. DeMarco at all hours, I always have a mask and a lock-pick kit in my backpack ready to go, not to mention my knife, but this job couldn’t have come at a worse time.
After stopping off at the club to get instructions from Christopher, I’m on my way to a remote location at least 45 minutes out of the city through rush hour, and to say that I’m pissed about it is an understatement.
Why couldn’t it have been Ash to get the job?
Following the GPS into the woods in the middle of nowhere, I close in on the coordinates ahead of me—a single two-story house surrounded by trees. I can tell from the distance it’s neither extravagant nor dilapidated, and my first thought is that it’s a temporary safe house of sorts.
I creep closer. I don’t see any visible security cameras, and only one vehicle is parked out front. A black Jeep Wrangler.
I dismount and transfer what I need to the smaller pack strapped to my thigh before scoping the place out.
According to Christopher’s intel, there’s supposed to be one guy on the second floor guarded by a security detail, butI never know what I’ll find once I get inside. I need to be prepared for anything.
With my black Hayabusa hidden out of sight and mask in place, I ghost through the trees. My directions are to drop the man upstairs and pin a note to his chest, then get out without being seen.
Easy enough.
My eyes scan over the drawn curtains. The top floor appears dark, but there’s a light on downstairs.
Dropping to a crouch, I watch the windows for signs of movement, my ears perked.
