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Someone Taught Aimee Ch. 1

By: KillerMuffin



She pitched a perfect shut-out with one angry throw. The diamond smacked his cheekbone and bounced into the gutter at her feet. She yelled something, but he couldn't hear it over the roaring in his ears as he watched thousands of dollars lose itself in the muck of rotting leaves, fast food trash, and disgustingly unidentifiable goo. All thoughts of his recently purchased and obscenely expensive clothes dissipated when the 24 karat gold gave a cheery flash and slid under a half rotted oak leaf. Joseph dove for it. Armani met half-dried ketchup and his hand flailed in something that he'd rather not know about. He found the oak leaf and then the ring. Christine turned on one tiny, spiked heel and disappeared into the gawking crowd. 

His apartment was in shambles and for once he didn't care. Her fur coat had swirled as she climbed in a cab and left him in the literal gutter. He'd walked home and ripped his clothes off. He had wanted to burn them, but he didn't have a fireplace. He'd settled for shoving them into the bottom of an antiseptic, black trash bag. He'd dragged it through the living room and knocked over a crystal figurine with his bare ass. Christine had given that to him to celebrate his latest deal. A moment later it was in the trash bag. By the time the fury diminished the bag was bulging, his apartment looked like someone had tossed it, and there was no trace of her left in his life. Except for a trash bag and a dirty ring. It was almost symbolic. 

"Wow, this place is a mess." He whirled to find Aimee lounging in the doorway, Christine's apartment key in hand. She wasn't looking at his decorating.

"Go away."

"Now is that any way to treat the calvary? She had your stuff on its way to Goodwill. I rescued it for you." Aimee nudged at a box with her toe. "The least you can do is invite me in for a cup of coffee and thank me."

Her eyes remained locked on target and it was stirring his anger again. He resisted the urge to throw something at her. "Consider yourself thanked and get out of here."

She licked her lips and dragged her jade green eyes up his chest to smile at him. He didn't like that smile. "I know why she dumped you."

"I could care less." That was a bald-faced lie, but he didn't want her in his house.

"Look, she's my sister, okay? I care about her, too, and I just want to see her happy."

He felt like an ass. "Fine. Kitchen's through there. I'll get dressed and we can talk."

"Pity."

He glared at her.

She raised her hands defensively. "I love my sister, but I'm not blind." His expression never changed. She dropped her hands. "Fine. Kitchen."

His oldest sweats and ratty shirt weren't enough to keep her eyes from physically assaulting him. That's one of the things he'd always hated about her; the relentless sexual pursuit. He occupied himself with the coffee to keep her from bothering him. He could still feel her staring at him; it was making him twitchy.

"Why did she break up with me?"

"You've been a naughty boy."

He threw her a glare over his shoulder. She grinned unrepentantly. At his ass.

"Someone told her that you were screwing around on her with that girl you had over here for a week."

When he was tearing his apartment apart he didn't think it would have been possible to get any angrier. He was wrong. "Who told her that?"

Aimee inspected her fingernails. "What's it worth to you?"

That bitch. "You told her."

"I was on another continent at the time, remember? Chrissy and I were in London."

"Who did it?"

"What's it worth to you, Geronimo? I know you were screwing around on my sister. I can help you convince her that you weren't. But I want something."

If he hit her his father would kill him. He would go to jail. Christine would never forgive him. "Spit it out."

"24 hours."

"What?"

"I want you for 24 hours. You're not engaged to my sister anymore and what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Starting now."

"Get out."

She smiled at him, looking exactly like the coyotes that dotted the plains around his mother's house. "I'll tell Chrissy that you tried to rape me and she'll never have anything to do with you again. Now you don't want that, do you? All I want is 24 hours out of your life and you'll never have to deal with me again, except to be nice to me at Christmas. 24 hours and I'll be an absentee sister."

"She'll never believe you."

"Right. She'll take your word over mine. The word of a cheating creep over her own sister's. That scar that cuts right through your pubic hair won't hurt much either. How'd you get that anyway? It makes you look delicious."

Joseph forced his fists to open one finger at a time.

"I don't have all day. What's it going to be, stud? Happy ever after with Princess Chrissy or are you going back to the reservation to pout?"

"Tell me who did it first."

Her laughter was as harsh as she was. "Oh come on, what do you think I am? You'll get the name afterwards."

"No deal. I get the name first and then you get the 24 hours."

"Not likely, chief. You'll skip out on the deal and I'll get nothing for my troubles."

"I thought you loved your sister."

"I do love my sister. I just love my pussy more and you are going to be very good for my pussy." She was staring at the soft cotton that covered his crotch again.

He wasn't the whiz of Mergers and Acquisitions for nothing. "You give me a little of what I want and I'll give you a little of what you want. I need to know that you're not lying to me."

"Fair enough." She dug her cellphone out and gave him a perfectly fake smile. "Chrissy?"

He almost dropped his coffee cup, he hadn't expected her to call her sister.

"I just dropped Joe's stuff off at his apartment. The guy looks pretty torn up."

He strained to hear Christine's voice.

"Yeah, sis, I know. I think that maybe you should give the guy a chance to explain." She winced and pulled the phone away from her face. He could hear the distinctive sound of a yelling Christine. "Look, Chrissy, maybe there was more to it than what we heard. The guy isn't a complete loser, you did fall in love with him right? Right? Chrissy? Good. At least give him a chance to explain things."

His heart stopped beating.

"No, I don't think tonight would be good. He was hitting the bottle or something. I didn't know that. You broke his heart, sis, that would drive any man to drink. Let him sober up and think about it. Tomorrow afternoon would be a good idea. Want me to come along with you? Okay, I'll stop by and pick you up at three. Nah, I bet he calls in sick. The guy was throwing up already. Love you. Muah." She pressed a button and put the phone away. "There, just call me John Gray. You've got yours coming and now I want mine. You can start by stripping."

He crossed his arms over his chest instead. There was no way he was going to fuck that bitch. "You first."

She smiled like a pirana. "I don't think so, Sitting Bull. You're mine, you're the one jumping through hoops."

"You know where the door is. Don't let it hit your ass."

"We had a deal."

"I don't kiss ass. You want it, you work for it." He grabbed his crotch and squeezed. "You want it, Aimee?"

She licked her lips. "I'm in charge here."

"I don't think so." He massaged his cock gently, just enough so she could watch it push against his sweats. "You want it?"

She ripped her eyes from his hand and glared at him. "Look, Kemosabe, we're going to get something straight, I run this little show. Not you."

He gave her his best disgusted look, then picked up the coffee cup as if it were the most important thing in the world just because he knew it would piss her off.

"We had a deal. Maybe I should call Chrissy."

"Maybe you should just take your fucking clothes off." She looked shocked. For a moment he thought she would run straight to her sister with tales that would destroy any hope of a relationship forever. Then he caught the look in her eyes. So that's the way she floats her boat. He put the cup down and grinned at her. "Take your clothes off, bitch."

Her hands made an abortive move toward the buttons on her blouse. She threw her shoulders back and threw a weak glare in his direction. "You're bought and paid for, Tonto. You're the one whose going to strip, not me."

Stealthy as bobcat in the sage, he crossed the room until he was bent over the table and in her face. All of the blood drained from her cheeks and her green eyes were wide as the sky. "I won't tell you again. Take your clothes off."

She took in a huge shuddering breath and immediately started on the buttons. Satisfied, he retreated to the counter and lounged, watching her. She tried to do the usual sexy wiggle but she was shaking too hard for it. If her nipples weren't breaking through her bra, he would have thought she wasn't willing. 

The oddest rush of power tore through him. He had negotiated deals that dwarfed the GNP of the average third world country that didn't give him a tenth of the adrenaline rush this was. He grinned wolfishly when she met his eyes. Hers were soft and burning, full of some insane sexual heat. She licked her lips and swayed toward him.

"Turn around. I want to see what I'm getting."

She obediently twisted in a circle. He couldn't tell if she was a natural blonde or not, she'd shaved completely.

"Show me your cunt."

She jerked, showing some signs of defiance. He grabbed his cock, not the least bit surprised that it was hard as his head, and pulled at it a little. Turning around she spread her legs and bent over, flashing him a sweet looking pussy. For some reason he had thought she'd be gaping and worn with well used, floppy lips. While he watched a clear drop of female cum slipped from her swollen lips. Damn. He had never seen a woman do that.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she chewed on her bottom lip and looked worried. The expression in her eyes was a mixture of fear, excitement, and vulnerability. Dammit, he wished he hadn't seen that.

"Get over here and suck my cock, bitch." Maybe he could forget that under Princess Bitch she was still a human being.

She rushed to him, dropping to her knees with a greedy innocence and reached for the waistband of his sweats. He shoved her hands away and glared at her. "Use your teeth."

Startled, she blinked up at him with huge eyes. Then her hands settled on his calves and her face dipped toward his crotch. He hissed in his breath, part in pleasure and part in the groggy male terror that always happens when a woman's teeth wrap around his cock. She squeezed him through the cotton of his sweat, letting him feel the heat of her breath for a few timeless heartbeats, then she went for the waistband.

It took a few awkward tries before she could pull them down. She had to switch sides and worm them down his body enough to free him. Her hair, long, silky, and blonde, ran over his skin like a million tiny fingers torturing him. Finally, his cock sprang out at her, hard and waiting. She licked her lips, her eyes locking onto to it. As always, her intense hunger made him a little uncomfortable, but unlike before when he just wanted to get away, it made him want to shove his dick in her mouth.

"Open up, baby."

Her mouth opened and her tongue, long and pink, slid out. He shuddered when it rolled over the head of his cock, and then drew him inside of her. Oh yeah. He let his head fall back and his eyes shut, just to block out everything but the feel of her hot, tight, little mouth sucking him in deeper. He slipped his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp.

Christine gave him the obligatory blow job now and then, and it had always been nice. But this, this was mind-blowing. Someone had taught Aimee how to do it and do it like a man needed. Even better, she devoured his dick like she'd die if she didn't get enough of him. The suction and the heat started at the tip and slowly moved down the full length of his shaft. Her fingers combed through the hair over his balls, teasing them with impossibly light touches and gentle caresses. Through all of it her lips worked over his cock, so did her teeth and her tongue.

Once his cock was thoroughly wet, she wrapped her lips around her teeth and started bobbing her head up and down. She squeezed, giving his cock the friction that made his balls draw up against his body and the roaring haze of orgasm race through his head. He wanted to shove her off and pull onto him harder all at the same time. She moved shallowly, working just the head with a mouth that suddenly seemed to be hotter than the sun and tighter than a fist. Her hand wrapped around the shaft and picked up the fucking rhythm.

He pulled on her hair, trying to gasp out something about cumming, to warn her. She ignored him and kept moving. Somehow, the thought that it was Christine's bitch slut of a sister with her lips wrapped around his dick made the stars blow up in his head like they'd never done before. He hated her, her adored her, her wanted her to suck him forever. Roaring, he pulled her onto his cock, forcing more of him into her mouth, and felt his sperm explode from his cock. 

Usually, he knew what a woman did with his cum. This time, he honestly didn't know. He couldn't get his eyes to focus before she stood up or his mind to wrap around anything coherent. He leaned against the kitchen counter and tried to find his balance again. Eventually, he focused on her face. She was smiling softly, pleasure with herself and him reflected in her deep green eyes.

"That was great, baby."

The hard look insinuated itself in her expression all over again. Calculating and cynical, she grinned, showing all of her teeth. "Feel better now, chief?" 

"Why do you have to be such a fucking bitch?"

"Because I like to fuck. Are you done for the night or do I get a ride on Silver?"

"You'll be lucky if I don't spank your ass."

"Tease me, please me, chief." She gave a wiggle of her ass that made her pretty tits jiggle and licked her lips. "C'mon, stud. I've got twenty four hours with this guy. I'm not wasting a minute of it. You have a bed around here or do you want it on the table?"

"The floor. I'm not ruining my furniture with a skank slut like you."

She grinned ferally. "Oh come now, Tonto, I'm not that bad. Want to smell my pussy? It's clean."

"I don't even want to fuck your pussy. No telling where it's been."

A look of hurt flashed through her eyes so quickly he discounted it. "You promised."

"I'm not hard."

Cynical and jaded. "Like I can't blow you right up."

"You can try. Bitches aren't my style."

"You didn't have a problem before."

"Young, dumb, and full of cum." He picked up his coffee cup again. "What are you waiting for? On your knees."

She eyed him speculatively for a moment, making him feel like some kind of horse at auction. He had never felt like such a piece of meat before. He hated it. "I don't think so, Tonto. You're bought and paid for. You're my whore."

"I'm no one's toy. We have a deal."

"You sold your hunky body for Princess Chrissy. You can work it for a while. Princess Chrissy tells me that you savages sure know how to eat pussy. I intend to find out."

He absolutely hated the way he called Christine "Princess Chrissy" in that tone of voice. His temper flared, breaking the control that was whispered about in an economic jungle where people were noted for emotional control. He twisted his hand in her hair and jerked, pulling her down. She shrieked, clamping her fingers around his wrist, and dropped to her knees. Even though it was a quiet growl, he sounded more like he roared. "Suck!"

Aimee reattached her lips to his dick, slurping it down with all the gusto of a party of Comanche on a raid. He felt himself growing in her mouth, filling it. Using her hair, he pulled her firmly onto it. Some part of him was yelling that he should be ashamed, that he was all but raping her, but he ignored it. Her mouth felt too good. Taming the bitch felt too good.

She rubbed her body on his leg, planting her pussy on his foot. She groaned around his cock, sending shivers up his spine. Her hips worked, fucking herself on the top of his foot. Even through the cloud of anger and excitement in his head, he could feel her wetness. She was dripping down his foot. He got a better grip in her hair and tugged her off of his dick.

"You like it rough."

She glared up at him, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth. "No, I don't. Treat me with respect, Geronimo, or you'll regret it."

He looked her over. She was squatting at his feet, her knees spread. He could see light reflecting off of her wet pussy, the deep red flush around her breasts with the tight nipples, and how her chest was heaving. She loved it, that was obvious. And he was going to love giving her just was she deserved. "I don't think so, bitch. Bend over the table."

"No." She reached for his cock. "I'm not finished."

He used her hair to make her stand up. She stared daggers at him, but didn't fight it. Spinning her toward the table, he wrapped his fingers around his dick. She caught the edge with her hands and looked at him over her shoulder. Deliberately, she spread her feet and arched her back, presenting him that sweet, little pussy.

Swiping the head of his dick over her wet lips, he swallowed a groan. "Hold your cunt open."

She slipped her hand between her legs, using two fingers to awkwardly part her lips. It wasn't open, but that hadn't been the point of the order. He needed to show her who was the boss. Finding the hole with his dick, he pushed, sliding in. She was tight. Astonishingly tight. The loose, well-used pussy was almost virginal in feel. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. He wanted to grab her hips and slam home; he knew that she wanted him to. He wasn't ready for that. He wanted to take her slow, savor the sensation.

"How can you have such a tight pussy?"

"I don't know."

She shoved back with her entire body, swallowing half of his dick in a way that made them both cry out, his a deep, growling epithet, hers a long squeal. He slapped her ass. "I'm doing the fucking, bitch."

She did it again. He smacked her again, in the same spot, leaving an angry hand print. She jerked, her entire body shaking. He did it again, aiming for the red mark, harder. She cried out and shoved herself all the way onto his dick. He could feel her pussy milk him while she panted and thrashed almost silently. It took him a few moments to realize that she was cumming. A fierce joy warred with an equally strong pride. He'd done that. Shock replaced his exultation. He didn't think a woman could cum without clitoral stimulation.

Confused, he backed up. His dick did not want to leave that tight, wet hole. He didn't really want to leave it either. That was the problem. He wanted to hate Aimee. She was the bitch he had to tolerate, not the woman he wanted to share sexual bliss with. He wanted this to be commerce, nothing more than a physical exchange for information. He didn't want orgasms. Not her, not his, just not at all.

He leaned against the counter again and picked up his coffee cup. He sipped at the lukewarm brew to give himself time to think. His dick was still hard, still pointing at her like an Irish Setter after a bird.

Aimee collected herself and flew across the kitchen. She dropped to her knees and shoved her face in his groin, rubbing her cheek against him. He almost dropped his coffee. What the fuck?

"Please," she begged, "don't stop."

He tried to shove her off, but she clung to his leg. "What in the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" She pressed kisses to his lower belly for a moment. "I just want to please you. Please, don't stop. Let me." Her mouth went for his dick, her tongue lolling over his flesh. He shivered and let her. It felt good.


Someone Taught Aimee Ch. 2



He picked up the phone to call the hospital, but dropped it on the cradle. She wouldn't talk to him on the phone anyway. Instead, he told his secretary that something had come up and to cancel everything for the day. He grabbed his jacket and brief case and headed straight for Bellevue.

It took the better part of the day and several thousand dollars worth of palm grease to find her. He didn't stop to wonder why he'd even bothered. She was registered as Sheila Jackson and had a private room near the maternity ward. He found the room with no trouble and went inside. The lights were off, the TV was playing quietly, and the figure on the bed was covered with a sheet. No one else was in there.

"Aimee?" He stepped closer, putting his hand on her hip. "Aimee?"

She flinched and curled on herself. "I told you not to look for me. There's nothing you can do."

"I was worried."

"About me?" Her voice sounded funny. It was hoarse and slurred. "I'm the bitch. The sister you hate. Remember?"

"I don't hate you."

"I don't need your pity."

"You think I'm here because I feel sorry for you?"

"Why are you here, Joe?"

He really didn't know. He had developed a soft spot for her, or in his head. "I care about you."

"After what I did? Go away."

"I don't know. I haven't been mad at you since..." He rubbed her hip and she jerked away. 

"Since I told you and you pitied me."

"No, since I gave you the spanking the first time."

"The spanking?"

"I liked the way you came for me." He shifted his weight, uncomfortable. "I think about it a lot."

"But–"

"I wanted to see you again. You probably think I'm crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you."

"I think you should leave."

"Why?"

She sighed, a shallow one that sounded full of pain. "I don't want you."

"Liar."

"Look, it's not good for you–"

"It's him. You're still afraid of him." 

The sigh was punctuated by a sob this time. "You don't understand. He's so powerful. He'll hurt you and you've been hurt enough."

"I'm not afraid of him, Aimee. He isn't God and he can't hurt me unless I let him. And I don't intend to let him. I promise you that. He can try to take my job, but the people I work for aren't intimidated by anyone. Neither am I. You're going to have to stop being afraid of him."

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. You just realize that he's only a man."

She rolled onto her back and ripped the sheet back. A small cry of pain came with the violent motion. "Only a man? It only takes a man to do this!"

"Fuck!" 

She was covered in fading bruises. Even in the low light from window he could see the garish green and yellow coloring. Fresh bruises were on top of the older ones. Her arm was in a cast and so was her nose. "Can't you see? You have to go. Just go and leave me alone. It's better this way."

There was no way in hell he was going to leave her. "No. You're coming with me. I'm going to kill that bastard."

"No!" She jerked, trying to sit up.

"Easy, lay down. I won't kill him. But I won't let him do this again. Who is your doctor? I'm going to take you home now. I'll get a private nurse–"

"I'm not going with you."

"You can't want to stay with him!"

"I don't have a choice."

"Oh my God, Aimee, your inheritance isn't worth the price."

"It's not the money. It's Chrissy. I'm the only thing keeping him away from her. You have to go. Now."

"How long has this been going on?"

"If I tell you, will you leave?"

"Yes."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you promise?"

"I promise, sweetheart."

She looked vaguely mollified. "Mother, well, she's never really been around. They're still married, but they don't live together unless they need to. When I was old enough to, we started messing around and having sex. That was okay until he decided he wanted Chrissy, too. I made him stay away from her. If he touched her then I'd run straight to Mother and the cops and tell on him. He threatened to kill me if I ever told, but I couldn't let him touch Chrissy. He made a deal. If I became his slut, then he'd leave her alone. Since I was already anyway, I agreed. She doesn't know any of this. She can't."

"And this whole thing last month was staged for her benefit?"

"You weren't good enough for the Princess. He wanted someone with the right connections, not some heathen from no where. He found out that you'd been having sex with her and then you got engaged. He always sends her to Europe when he wants something to happen. I don't know what he would have done if that girl hadn't come for a visit. Your sister, right?"

"Right. And he beat you because?"

"I wasn't supposed to let you fuck me. Just get naked. Maybe oral sex if I had to wait too long for her to get there."

"Both beatings?"

"Both?"

"Nice try. I've seen enough bruises in my life. He beat you a while ago and then he beat you recently. What set him off?"

"Please, Joe, just go. Now."

"Aimee–"

"I can't, please." Her hoarse, broken voice ripped at him.

"All right."

"Goodbye, Joe." Her voice held a note of finality, as if she expected to never see him again.

"Take care, sweetheart."

He didn't want to go back to the office, so he went home. He needed to think. He needed to go kill that bastard. Mostly, he needed to think. Back home he would have gone to a sweat lodge, usually he went to a steam bath here, but he didn't want to be around other people. Instead, he sipped a cup of coffee, leaned his back against the kitchen counter, and stared at the table.

She was protecting Christine, there was no doubt about that. He had a feeling that she was trying to protect him, too. She'd made herself responsible for caging the monster. It was time for that to stop. And he knew just how to do it. Daddy didn't like heathen savages. It was time for Daddy to meet a real one.

The mansion on Carnegie Hill was quiet at night. Rutledge didn't like the help to stick around, he'd found out. Probably so there'd be no interference when he diddled with his daughter. Joe had been watching the house for a while now. It had taken a few months for the information he required to come back from the investigator. During that time he'd done his own homework on the mansion.

Even though the urge had almost overpowered him, he'd skipped on the war paint and breechclout. Instead he wore jeans and a black t-shirt. He'd waited around until the last of the help had gone on home, then slipped inside. High tech security was no match for a guy with the money to learn how to bypass it. He crept through the house, climbing up the stairs to the floor that held the bedrooms. He identified Christine's by the faint scent of Chanel and Aimee's by the smell of gardenia. Crouching on the other side of a set of double doors, he listened intently. Nothing more than MacNeil and Lehrer quietly discussing something. Then a male cough.

He went inside as casually as if he owned the place. "Nice digs, Rutledge."

"You!" The man was older, but he was still a formidable presence. He may have a full head of gray hair, but his frame was as powerful as his standing in the financial community.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention."

"Get out before I call the police."

"I already cut the phone line." Joe drew his knife, a big Bowie that his father had given him for his twelfth birthday. "With this."

"You don't scare me, boy."

"This is the way it's going to work. You're going to leave Aimee alone. No more hanky panky. No more beatings. No more abuse. You're going to leave Christine alone, too."

"I don't know what you're talking about, if Aimee said any–"

"Shut up. I want to kill you. Don't give me a reason to do it." He must have sounded menacing enough because Rutledge shut up. "Just in case you think you can ignore me, think about a few names. Global Energy Dynamics. Synergistics. Evan Glass."

The old man paled. "I don't know what you're–"

"Then you won't mind if I drop some files on the SEC's desk in the morning. You like jail? I'm sure they'd love you in there." Joe crossed the room like a wolf after a rabbit and stuck the knife under the man's chin. "And just in case you think that you can get rid of me, those files are in the hands of a third party who sends them to the SEC if I lose my job or disappear. And if you think you can go back on Aimee for this, then I'll cut your throat myself."

"You don't scare me. I've eaten upstarts like you for breakfast."

"Then try it. I wish you would. I really hope you grow a pair and do it."

"Don't try me–"

"Daddy?" Aimee, naked with a towel in her hair, stepped through a door leading to the bathroom. He was glad to see the bruises had all disappeared. "Joe?"

"Your Indian thinks he can rescue you." Rutledge smiled at Joe, cold as winter. "But I'm going to squash him like a–"

"No!" Aimee screamed and ran toward the bed. The towel hit the floor with a loud thump. "You leave him alone! We had a deal!"

"He threatened me, girl. I can't allow that."

"Daddy, please–"

"I won't let him hurt you, sweetheart. He can't touch me and he knows it."

"Aimee? I heard you screa– Oh my God!"

Joe knew without looking that Christine was standing at the door with a shocked expression on her face, probably her hand over her mouth. The best laid plans. 

"Christine, go back to your room," her father ordered.

"I'm calling the police!"

"No!" That came from Aimee.

"Maybe we should let Princess Chrissy in on the family secret," Joe suggested. Rutledge looked horrified for a moment. So.

"No, Joe. We can work this out. You can leave and I'll take care–"

"Not any more Aimee. You've taken care of everything long enough." Joe sheathed the knife and backed up. He crossed his arms over his chest, but never took his eyes from Rutledge. "How old was she the first time?"

"Joe? What is going on?" Christine had regained some wit, but Joe didn't spare her a glance.

"I don't know what you're–"

"Christine is a grown woman, Aimee. Or do you think she can't figure out why you're bare assed in your father's room?"

"Please, Joe, leave her out of this."

"Leave me out of what?" Christine sounded like she was on the verge of one of her famous tantrums.

"Aimee doesn't want you to know that your father has been fucking her for the last ten or so years. How long has it been?"

Aimee dropped her eyes to her feet and refused to speak.

"She doesn't want you to know that she kept him out of your bed by selling herself to him. Be his little slut forever."

"Daddy–?"

"He's lying, baby. He can't have you and he's out for revenge." The old man sneered at him. "I never touched your sister that way."

"Aimee?" Christine stepped farther into the room.

Aimee wrapped her arms around her belly and didn't say anything.

"He beat you because you were pregnant, didn't he."

Aimee's head jerked upwards.

"And he beat you so bad you miscarried our baby."

She shook her head, green eyes wide.

"That's a filthy lie. I never hit my daughter in my life!"

"Come home with me, sweetheart. I won't let him hurt you again." He could see the tears forming and wished that he could wipe them away. He didn't know if she'd let him.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" She swiped at her eyes with one hand and gestured toward the knife at his belt with the other.

"I want to spank you again."

She giggled in spite of herself.

"Being inside of you was the best thing that I've ever done in my life," he said. "I'm going to do it again. And again."

"You'll keep your hands off of her," Daddy growled, coming out of the bed. "She's mine."

"Not anymore." Joe's hand went to the hilt of his knife and Rutledge stopped.

"Oh my God, Daddy, put some pants on!" Joe had forgotten about Christine.

Aimee lifted her chin and straightened her spine. "I'll go with you, but I'm not leaving Chrissy here with him. Not by herself."

"Wait, Aimee–"

"She can stay with us for a day or two. But no more. You're not responsible for her."

"She can go stay with Mother."

"I'm not going anywhere!"

Rutledge took a step. Joe grinned at him. "Go ahead, say something."

"Chrissy, you can't stay here alone with him. He'll–"

"He'll what, rape me? I don't believe a word of that! You're making it up because you hate me."

"I don't hate you!"

"He's gotten to her, Princess," Rutledge said softly.

"Get out!" Christine yelled at Aimee. "How dare you talk about my Daddy that way?"

Aimee looked as if she'd be slapped. Joe took her hand and tugged her toward the door. "C'mon, sweetheart, let's get out of here."

"You haven't heard the last of me, boy. I'm going to ruin you."

"That's what you think, old man. Go get your things, Aimee, we're leaving."

She nodded and slipped from the room. She was fast, she came back wearing a dress that she'd just pulled over her head without looking and a barely zipped gym bag. "I'm ready."

"Aimee," Rutledge said before they could leave.

"What, Daddy?"

"You're no longer my daughter."

Joe grabbed her hand and squeezed. He couldn't read anything in her face, but he didn't miss the flash of pain in her eyes. Finally, she lifted her chin and said, "Good."

Once he'd gotten her back to his apartment, he didn't know quite what to do with her. What to say. She seemed to be in the same boat. She curled up on his couch and picked at her toenails. He sat in the armchair he'd never sat in before and tried to think of something to say.

"I'm worried about Chrissy."

"Why don't you call her tomorrow morning after he's gone to work?"

"I'll do that."

End of conversation. He had no idea what to talk about now. "I can't believe I ever thought you were a bitch," he blurted.

She smiled at him. "I wasn't very nice to you." Her smile fell. "I've never been nice to people. It was easier."

"I'll bet."

"Why did you do this for me? Honestly? Not that I'm not grateful, but..." She trailed off, uncertain.

That was the one question he'd been avoiding in the past few months while he'd waited for the reports from his detectives. One he'd studiously ignored while conducting less than completely legal surveillance on the Rutledge household during those past few months. "You know how something is just the right thing to do? I had to do it."

"Just the right thing?"

"I've always wanted to be someone's knight in shining armor."

"Oh." She looked small and girlish in the gray dress that was more appropriate for a business luncheon.

The silence stretched. He fiddled with his thumbs, getting nervous without really knowing why. "Do you, um, do you want to be here? I'm glad you're here." He hadn't meant to say that. He'd wanted to ask her if she wanted to watch TV. Not that. 

Instead of derision or shock, she smiled at him. It softened her entire face and brought a glow to her eyes that captivated him. "Yeah. I am, too." She stood up and slipped out of the dress.

"Hey, you don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"You're welcome to stay here without that kind of payment."

She knelt between his legs, and pressed her cheek to his thigh. Tangling his finger in her hair, he sighed in pleasure. "I want you to spank me again."

"I love your ass, sweetheart."

"I know. I want to please you."

He smiled at her. "Oh, you do. Just by being here."

"You're wearing too many clothes."

"So I am." He stood up and reached for his zipper. His eyes caught the shining blonde hair a few inches from his crotch. "Take my clothes off for me."

"Am I still your bitch?"

"You'll always be my bitch."

She grinned up at him. "Good." Her fingers undid his belt buckle and then the button and zipper. She tugged his jeans down and buried her face in his crotch. "You smell so good."

"Thanks."

She opened her mouth and took him inside. It was like before, only better. The heat, the suction, and the perfect technique combined with a glowing feeling of warmth somewhere in his heart. It wasn't just her skill, it was the fact that she was doing it. He sat down on the couch, leaning back, and just watched her loving on his cock.

Her eyes were closed and her lips moved up and down the length of his shaft. He could watch her do that forever. He pulled his shirt off, throwing it aside, then ran his fingers through her hair while she worked on his dick.

"That's so good, sweetheart," he crooned.

The up and down was replaced by a long, slow suction from the head to the base and then back up again. Her fingers combed over his balls, then held them gently. At the tip, her tongue swirled over the head, licking at the slit and then moving down to rub the sweet spot along the underside, right below the head. He groaned, lifting his hips and pushing himself a little more into her mouth.

She took that for encouragement and did it again. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and moved in time with her lips. Up and down with a little twist that drove him insane. Her tongue was everywhere, over the head, along the underside, wrapping around the sides. She moved faster on him, her head bobbing while she sucked. He closed his eyes and the only thing he knew was the few inches of cock she worked on.

He held her head with both hands, fucking her mouth as much as he could in his position. She didn't miss a beat, just kept up that incredible suction and with that wonderful tongue. He felt his balls drawing up against him and knew she had to feel it with her petting fingers. A few moments later his cock jerked, spitting a full load into her mouth. He body strained to push his dick all the way into her while she swallowed jet after jet of cum.

Gathering his wits, he tugged her off of his cock by the hair. She licked her lips and looked up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Your turn." Before she could protest, he pushed her onto the carpet and forced her thighs apart. She put up just enough struggle to make it interesting, her eyes glinting.

He pushed his face between her legs and licked the length of her slit. She gasped out loud, her fingers curling into his hair. "No, don't!"

"Yes." He pulled her open with a finger and slipped his tongue inside. She squirmed, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. He caught her hips and held her steady while his mouth went on a reconnaissance mission for her clitoris.

She yanked on his hair, nearly ripping some of it out.

"Ow! What'd you do that for!"

"Don't do that. I don't like it."

"I do."

"I don't care what you like, Sitting Bull." She shot to her feet and stared at him as haughtily as Custer had ever stared at a Souix. "You're not doing that to me."

Joe stood up and glared at her. "Why not?"

"Because I said no, Geronimo." She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at him. "If you're going to do anything to that pussy, you're going to fuck it."

"Bullshit."

She frowned, her eyes clashing with his. He dropped onto the couch, upending her as he went. She came down across his lap with a squeal and struggled a little until he planted his hand on the small of her back. She took a deep breath and looked up over her shoulder. Smirking, he slid his fingers into her wet pussy just to watch her eyes widen. The liquid heat and the clasp of her inner muscles told him just how much she liked it.

He jerked his hand back and smacked her right where the thigh met the ass, hard. She yelped and jerked in his lap. Running his fingers over the dripping lips between her legs, he found her clit and made her wiggle. She moaned and lifted her hips up to his hand. He did it again, aiming for the other side of her butt this time. Dipping his fingers back into her pussy, he took the wetness and spread it over one of her cheeks.

"Joe . . . ."

"What, Aimee?" He painted her other buttcheek with pussy juice.

"I've been a bad girl."

He grinned and slid his finger along her lips, looking for her clit. "I'll say. Are you going to tell me no when I want to lick your pussy?"




Someone Taught Aimee Ch. 3



You try to do something nice for someone and it blows right up in your face. He scrawled some notes on a legal pad and considered taking a vacation. To some place without women. Two weeks with her and he still couldn't get those five words out of his head. "Let me speak to Daddy."

There's just something incredibly obscene about a grown woman calling her father "Daddy."

"Mr. Running Bear? Mr. Atkinson would like to see you in his office."

Joe dropped his pen and glared at the papers in front of him for a moment. "All right, Sandy."

He shrugged on his suit jacket and shoved his fingers through his hair. The corner office on the floor where there were only two offices would be his one day, but at the moment it belonged to the his boss. Estelle, Atkinson's secretary–handpicked by Mrs. Atkinson–was no where to be found. She was as efficient and conscientious as she was ugly so her absence was unusual. If only Mrs. Atkinson knew that Mr. Atkinson swung the other way.

"Joe, come on in and have a seat."

"What's this all about, Tom?" Joe picked the leather armchair and sat down.

"I got a call from Adam Rutledge today."

Joe plastered a bored expression on his face. "What did he want?"

"He wants me to fire you. Threatened to turn me into the SEC. He says that while you were engaged to his daughter that you took care of some accounts for him and he's just discovering that you did it illegally."

"What do you think?"

Tom leaned back in the chair and studied him with piercing eyes. "Tell me about Evan Glass."

"He's a crook. He rigged a buyout of a tech company called Synergistics for Global Energy Dynamics. He planted some evidence of industrial espionage on the suits that ran Synergistics, spread rumors about Congressional inquiries and downgraded the stock and picked it up for a song."

"Rutledge says that you did it and used Glass as a scapegoat."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think, Joe. If anyone could pull of a stunt like that, you could."

"I've worked for you for three years now. Have I ever given you reason to believe that I'd do something like that?"

"No, of course not."

"Am I fired?"

"Not yet."

"But you might do it."

"How do you know about Glass? This isn't something we're into."

"I did a little research on it after I found out a few things about Rutledge. Something didn't smell right over there."

"What things?"

"I'd rather not say."

Tom didn't say anything for a while, he simply stared. Joe stared back, unflinchingly. Tom respected a man who stood up for himself, who never apologized, who could stare him down. Joe learned that little piece of information long before he'd ever had his first interview with the man.

"I've got a meeting to get to. We'll discuss this over lunch tomorrow."

Joe stood up and smoothed his jacket. "I didn't do anything wrong, Tom. You know that."

"We'll see."

Sandy raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth when he stormed past her desk. "Not now, Sandy."

"But, Mr. Runn–"

"I said not now! Hold all my calls."

"Mr. Runn–"

"Shut up or you're fired."

Shock blossomed on her face for a moment, then a hard mask dropped over her eyes. She sat down at her desk and started typing. At least she'd shut up. He slammed the door to his office and stalked to his desk. What in the hell was the man up to?

"Joe."

He jerked around. "Christine? What are you doing here?"

"Aren't you even a little pleased to see me?"

"What do you want?"

She sat down, her knees demurely together and her eyes on the edge of his desk. "It's about Aimee." She sucked in a deep breath. "And Daddy."

"What about them?"

She met his eyes, hers wide and imploring. "You're the only person I can turn to. I don't know what to do anymore, Joe. Aimee, she..."

He waited for a few moments for her to continue. "She what?"

"She came and visited Daddy yesterday. He didn't know I was home. He..." She broke eye contact, swallowing hard and staring at the floor.

"He what?"

"He hit her." She straightened her shoulders. "I didn't believe her. I didn't listen. I didn't want to. They were yelling at each other and then I could hear him slapping her and I could hear her screaming. Begging him to stop."

Joe wanted to hit something. He curled his hands into fists and held himself perfectly still.

"He had sex with her. Daddy. And I didn't believe her." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Why did you let her go to him?"

"She's a grown woman. I can't stop her from doing what she wants to." He forced himself to relax. "Why are you here?"

"I can't find her. I went out again, so they wouldn't know I'd heard everything. When I came back she was gone and Daddy acted like nothing had happened. He was excited and happy. I called your apartment and I couldn't reach her. I've been trying all day." Her voice dropped. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Do you know why she went to see him?"

"No."

"You said you could hear them yelling."

"They were yelling about you. She kept yelling that he promised."

"Anything else?"

"I didn't hear them too well. She yelled something about files and promises. And he yelled about her being a slut and then he hit her."

"Files? What files?"

"I don't know."

"Synergistics?"

"No! Just you and promises." 

"What are you going to do now?"

"Go to Mother's and see if we can find Aimee. I'm worried about her."

"Give me a call if you do."

"All right." She stood and crossed to the door. For a moment, she looked at him. Her eyes were full of longing and regret. "I'm sorry, Joe. Be careful."

"I can take care of myself." Something inside him stirred. "You take care, Christine. Your father is dangerous."

She smiled thinly. "I know."

Then she was gone.

He picked up his pen and stared at the papers that needed his attention. Nothing. He threw the pen down and shrugged his jacket on. He needed to find Aimee.

"Sandy, reschedule my appointments. I'm gone for the day." He didn't slow down to see if she'd heard him or not.

The apartment was quiet as death. He flicked on the lights and dropped his keys on the foyer table. After shutting and locking the door, he listened. All he heard was the quiet thump and whir of the refrigerator and the understated hum of the air conditioning. "Aimee?"

A sniffle came from the bathroom. He pushed open the door and flicked on the light. "What are you doing?"

She was in the bathtub, up to her neck in bubbles, with the lights off. "Just taking a bath."

Her voice was shaky, a half ghost of the woman who taunted him into spanking her nearly every night.

"What's wrong?"

She refused to look at him. He crossed to the tub and pried her face around to his. The eyes were big, blue, and full of tears. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"I would rather we did."

She looked away.

"Christine dropped by my office today."

She flinched, but didn't look at him.

"Right after my boss and I had a discussion about my involvement with Syngersitics. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No."

"Did you steal my files and take them to your father?"

She whirled on him, her wet hair sending water across the bathroom. "Why would I do that?"

"Why don't you tell me."

She glared mutinously at him. Her lower lip trembled. If he didn't know any better he'd swear a seven year old girl was in the tub in front of him. He frowned and stood up.

"Why? Dammit, you owe me an answer."

"I don't have anything to say." The mulish expression accompanying that proclamation dared him to do something about it.

He grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her out of the bathtub. He dragged her through the hallway and tossed her onto the bed, ignoring the screeching. 

"You can't do this to me!"

"I just did. Did you steal my files?"

Her eyes narrowed and she eyed him as if she were Lady Astor looking at an Irish street urchin. "Figure it out yourself, Tonto."

"This is the last time I'm going to ask you nicely, Aimee." He could feel his back teeth grinding. "Did you steal my files?"

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Dropping onto the bed, he hauled her across his lap, face first. He had an impression of shock in her expression before her butt was within range and his hand shoved down on the small of her back, holding her still.

"Joe!" She tried to shove herself off his lap.

He delivered a series of strong smacks to her left butt cheek, not stopping until his hand hurt. He didn't have to touch her pussy to know she was hot, he could smell her. Right then, he didn't care.

"Did you steal my files?"

"Is that all you got, Geronimo?"

For just a moment, he saw red. Everything was washed with a haze of reddish anger and he thought he might actually throttle her. Then he dumped her onto the floor.

"You want more? Stick your ass in the air."

She stood up and ran her eyes over his body, as if she were sizing him up and found him lacking, then bent over the bed with slow, deliberate movements. She looked over her shoulder at him and had the gall to yawn. "Whenever you're ready, chief. I've got a nail appointment in an hour, can you speed this up?"

He whipped his belt out of the loops, a thin, black leather affair, and bent it in half. He'd never done this to another human being before, and he hesitated. 

"Coward." She wiggled her butt at him.

She squealed when the first whack curled around her butt. Her entire body jerked forward and she shook. He landed another three in about the same spot, then stopped. Her ass was bright red and he could see the ridges of long, thin welts rising on her flesh. The belt slipped to the floor and he couldn't remember a time when he felt worse about something he'd done.

"Aimee..." He didn't know what to say.

Her face was pressed into the blankets and she was shivering. She twisted her face to look at him. Her hair shrouded her expression. "More. Do it more, please."

"What?"

She shoved her hair out of her face then pushed herself up onto her hands again. "C'mon, chief, spank my ass." The shakiness in her voice belied the attitude in the words.

He hesitated a moment, taking in the welts and then the lust in her eyes.

"Don't wimp out on me now, Geronimo."

The slow grin that worked its way across his lips didn't reach his eyes. He picked up the belt and let her have about five more good hits. As soon as the belt hit the floor again, she whipped around and dropped to the floor beside him. She nuzzled her face into his pants, tears streaking into the dark fabric. She pressed her lips against the placket in front of his crotch.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered

"God, Aimee." The gentle sweep of his fingers through her hair reinforced the reassurance in his tone. "It's okay. Whatever you did, we can work it out. You just have to tell me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

She shook her head violently and shoved her eyes into his body.

"I can't fix it if you don't tell me what the problem is." 

Her fingers went to the button holding the top of his pants together. She toyed with it for a few moments and then undid it. It was arousing and irritating all at the same time. She tugged the zipper down and freed him from his briefs. Her fingers wrapped around his cock and she rubbed her cheek against it.

"Tell me what's going on, Aimee."

"Nothing important." Her tongue flicked along the underside of his erection and he had to suppress the need to stick in her mouth. A woman can't talk with a mouthful of cock.

He wrapped his hand around hers and forced her movement to stop. "You want my cock?"

She glared up at him. "That's blackmail."

"Simple commerce. You've got what I want and I've got what you want. Now tell me."

"It doesn't concern you."

"Then why did he make a move on my boss?"

Her eyes flared a moment, shock perhaps. "I don't know."

The pad of her thumb rubbed over the sensitive head, spreading around a thin sheen of his own moisture. He closed his eyes and sucked his breath between his teeth. He took a step back, pulling his cock away from her. "No."

"I'll leave."

"No one's stopping you."

She bit her lip and looked utterly miserable. He refused to let it soften him up.

"Tell me."

"I did what I had to do. Daddy will leave you alone now."

"What was that?"

"I don't remember."

He rubbed the tip of his cock against her lips. "Try."

"I don't remember." The mulish words caressed his erection with the flutter of her mouth and the heat of her breath. He wasn't able to swallow the groan. She met his eyes with naked satisfaction.

He pushed a little, not surprised when she opened up and took him in. Oh God, she was hot. And wet. Her mouth was that almost cliched velvet suction swallowing him whole. He gritted his teeth, trying to remember why it was important that he didn't grab her head and fuck her mouth. Nothing came immediately to mind but her tongue moving along his shaft.

Aimee didn't stay idle. Her fingers came up along his thighs and found his balls. He growled deep in his throat. That felt so good. His mind turned into a black hole that centered on the head of his dick and the tingle in his balls.

Bracing his hands on her head, he shoved her away before he lost. He backed up, bracing a shaking hand on the dresser, and hid his weakness for her in a glare. She stared at him, hurt and angry, while he took a few calming breaths. When he could trust he voice not to betray him, he tried again. "Tell me about my files."

"What files?" That false innocence came back with a widening of those cat-like eyes and a pout of her wet lips. She stared at his dick and traced her tongue of the lower one, making it red and full. He gripped the edge of the dresser until he felt the blood leaving his knuckles.

"Last chance, Aimee. The files."

She gave him the mulish look. "Those are things you business people keep."

He ground his teeth together. Fuck her. He stomped over to the closet, pulled her bag out and threw it at her. Shock replaced stubbornness. Her clothes followed the bag, fluttering around her. He ripped drawers open and emptied her stuff out of them. "You have fifteen minutes. Get out."

"What?" She sounded like a little girl who just watched her goldfish die.

"Get out. You've got fourteen and a half minutes. You'd better get moving."

"No, wait!"

He slammed the bedroom door and went to the kitchen. Coffee. He needed coffee. And some ice for his stupid, fucking dick. It still wouldn't go down.

"Joe, please! Don't be like this."

He dumped the old grounds and slapped a new filter in.

"Joe, please."

He carefully measured the coffee grounds.

"Joe, it's not like that."

He swallowed a retort and filled the carafe.

"Please. Just listen."

"Files."

"I can't!"

"Then leave."

"Joe. . . ."

He poured the water into the pot, slid the carafe into place, and flicked on the light. He toweled off the counter with precise strokes, as if his very existence depended on his accuracy.

She sat in a chair and pressed her face into her hands. He could hear her snuffling over the hissing of the pot. "He promised that if I got him those files that he'd leave you alone. He said that if I didn't get them to him, that he'd have you fired and put in jail. He can do that. He's too powerful. He knows people. So I took them."

"Shit."

"Did I do bad?"

He wanted to strangle her. Did she do bad. "No, Aimee. It's nothing I can't handle."

She offered him a smile; naked hope shining in her watery eyes. "C-can I stay?"

"Yes, you can stay."

She jumped up from the chair, her breasts jiggling, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'm going to go clean up in there. Are you," she smiled shyly at her feet, "coming to bed soon?"

His better judgment demanded that he immediately begin plotting to get his leverage on Rutledge back. Or at least get some new stuff. His penis thought otherwise. "I'll be in there in a minute."

It wasn't that he didn't have other copies. There were three sets. It was that Rutledge was already moving to mitigate whatever was in those files. The damning evidence wouldn't be so damning in a few days. In a week, he could publish everything in the Journal and no one would raise an eyebrow. Lies, innuendo, and coverup. About a week until Rutledge could do whatever he wanted to again. This couldn't be the man's only dirty deal. No, there had to be more skeletons in that closet. A man like that had entire graveyards. After he put Aimee to bed, he'd make some calls.

She pounced on him the minute he walked into the bedroom. She purred and tugged him onto the bed with a saucy grin. He let her manhandle him onto his belly and then rolled his eyes into the back of his head when she dug her fingers into his shoulders and started kneading. She had some fruity oil that she poured onto his back and rubbed it in. 

A few minutes into the massage he started to relax, letting his muscles go slack as she worked them into malleable putty in her dainty little hands. He would have fallen asleep, if she hadn't started scraping something soft and hard across his skin. Her nipples traced his spine–she paused a moment to grind her pussy into his left butt cheek–then one of her breasts slid along his cheek. What man could resist that? Certainly not he.

He reached out with his tongue and licked at the slope. She groaned appreciatively and replaced her tit with her mouth. Like a giant cat begging to be petted, she rubbed herself against him. Twisting to his side, he went after her mouth like Custer went after Big Horn. He absently rubbed his hand along the smooth curve of her butt, looking for a handful to pull her fully against him with. She tried to smother the gasp with a disguised moan, but he knew pain when he heard it.

"Are you okay?"

"Perfect. Do that again."

"What?"

"Rub my ass. Make me feel it."

"You're nuts." 

She moaned in the back of her throat and shoved her butt against his hand. She hissed between her teeth and latched on to his lips. He didn't have time to catch his breath before her tongue invaded his mouth. He squeezed the butt cheek and she wrapped her leg over his hip. They weren't touching, but he could feel the wet heat from her pussy as if he were already buried inside. Reaching between them, she trailed her hand along his belly until her fingers wrapped around his cock. He groaned into her when she used the sensitive head to tickle her clit.

He wanted to say something--he loved telling her how hot she made him–but kissing her was so much better. Her tongue mated his mouth like his cock was about to mate her body. Deep, hot, and wet. She wriggled it around, testing his teeth, licking at the roof of his mouth, and, finally, rubbing so sinuously against his tongue that he couldn't restrain himself. He slid his hand into her hair, anchoring it at the back of her head, and held her still for his own assault on her mouth. She squirmed against him, hunching her hips so that the head of his dick slid between her lower lips. 

Sucking on both her tongue and her mewling cries, he adjusted himself and gave a powerful thrust that sank his erection almost all the way home. He could feel her fingers sliding along his shaft, a set of hard bands that gave way to a moist, clinging sheath. He shoved again, and then once more, seating himself fully. She writhed beside him, a butterfly welcoming the pin that impaled her. He let go of her tongue long enough for her to plead for a thorough fucking and then he thrust his tongue into her.

He rolled her beneath him, in no mood to play with an awkward position. He wanted nothing less than to master her body. He pulled at her hips, tilting them to receive him, and pounded into her as if he could imprint himself in her by sheer force. She arched herself, lifting to meet him with equal measure. He rode her like this for what seemed hours. Sweat beaded on his back and stung his eyes, his lungs felt like they were going to explode, and the muscles in his legs and ass burned with the effort. None of that mattered next to the sweltering pleasure that concentrated itself in his penis. He wanted to cum, needed to, but couldn't quite get there.