Page 31 of Corrupted Deception

I push the tip of the plug inside her with slow, steady pressure.

She gasps, but she’s too far gone to fight me now. Her moans tumble out, one on top of another as I insert the plug until she’s taken every inch and her muscles clamp down around the narrow base.

“Does that feel good?” I ask her.

She eyes me, half-lust, half-glare even as her plump lips part on another moan.

“Yes,” she hisses when she realizes there’s no point in denying it. I can see it dripping from her pussy and in the flush of her body, now coated in a light sheen of sweat.

My hand worked faster up and down the hard length of my cock as the tingling at the base of my spine intensified. The whole room was blanketed in a thick haze of steam, making sweat bead up on my forehead.

With the plug buried inside her, I take my hand away and bring it down on the fleshy curve of her ass with a slap that makes her squeak even as she writhes her hips, pressing her clit harder against my finger.

A pink handprint raises up on her tanned flesh, and I bring my hand down again, marking her other cheek this time.

She cries out, and she writhes as wetness leaks from her pussy. So wet, so ready. But I’ve waited a lifetime to bury my cock inside this body, to feel her inner walls clamping down on me, to hear my name on her lips as I drive her over the edge. That’s why, unlike all those who’d come before her, she isn’t gagged. Her cries, her moans, her screams; they’re all mine. I want every one of them, and she’s going to give them to me.

The tingling at the base of my spine had spread outward, and my balls drew up. I worked my cock harder. Faster. I was so close.

And then, like a cruel joke, my cell phone rang from the vanity next to the sink.

The shrill, insistent sound pierced through the steamy haze and sent frustration coursing through me like wildfire.

With a growl, I released my cock, the pleasure dissipating into thin air as I wrenched open the shower door and crossed the floor to the vanity.

Snatching up my phone, I swiped to answer it without checking the caller ID.

“What is it?” I asked, my tone devoid of the frustration I was feeling as I wrapped a towel around my hips. The cuts and bruises from last night’s fight stared back at me from the bathroom mirror.

“She’s on the move,signor,”Vito said without preamble. “And I get the feeling she’s up to something.”

“What gives you that feeling?” I asked despite knowing that Vito had good instincts.

“She came out of the warehouse with a laptop and a piece, looking like…” His voice trailed off.

“Like what?”

Vito cleared his throat. “Like sex on stiletto heels,signor.”

An image of Charlotte dressed in black lingerie, bent over Marín’s hotel room bed flashed through my mind and melded with the fantasy of her bent over a bench, her ass filled with a plug and her pussy begging for my cock.

“What direction is she headed, Vito?”

“She’s about three minutes east of the warehouse now.”

“I want you to follow her, but keep your distance and stay on the phone,” I said as I threw on pants and a shirt.

“Sì, signor.”

Wherever she was headed looking like “sex on stiletto heels”, her plans were about to be interrupted.

I grabbed my holster and jacket from the back of the chair next to the bed and headed out the suite’s door.

“She’s still heading east,” Vito said just as I reached my car in the underground lot.

I revved the car’s engine and peeled out of the lot, the tires screeching against the pavement.

Vito’s voice came through the phone, giving me directions, and I followed them, speeding through the city streets and onto the highway’s on-ramp to catch up.

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