Appleby Blush Ch. 08

Then there was the elderly Pierre Laroche. He was old enough to be her father. Heck, he was almost old enough to be her grandfather. Had he really done all those things to her while he'd put her under? Had he really hypnotised and done everything apart from fucking her? The thought of being taken against her will was strangely erotic.

But it hadn't actually been against her will, had it? Then there were the feelings engendered by the voice. She'd really thought she was being watched and the appeal of that wanton thought had increased ever since. It was another fantasy she intended to fulfil.

When the French doctor had eventually brought her out of her trance, she hadn't just given in and let him fuck her—she'd practically begged him to.

The sexy thoughts inflamed her further. When she'd climaxed in the hot bath, both Daly and Laroche were there with her, taking turns with her. One had fucked her while she'd sucked the other's cock. Then they'd changed places. She'd even visualised being sandwiched between them, giving her pussy and ass at the same time. Ass-fucking had never appealed to her. Now she was wondering...

Carmella had painted a rosy picture of her future during their flight back—her plans for Kirsten as a model. How successful she was going to be and how she was going to take her with her to the New York Fashion Show. A catwalk debut there, she'd told her, would provide a wonderful platform for her future.

She'd have to resign from the Met, naturally. But that course of action had been growing in her mind for long enough now. Poor pay, undervalued, little job satisfaction. She loved Sandra Wilson to death, but who wanted to be in her position? Thank goodness Carmella had no idea she was a cop, or that she'd been investigating them. That thought haunted her but once she'd left the Met to start her new career, she'd be able to put all that behind her.

Her Columbian mentor had gone into some detail about the party, as well. She'd explained what lay in store, what Kirsten would enjoy, and how she would make it all happen for her. My God, she thought, it would fulfil all her current fantasies. The pace of her breathing sharpened. One hand went to her breasts while the other reached for 'Wesley' again...

***

Alice lay back on the bed, grunting incoherently as Marcia thrust the thick phallus inside her and then withdrew.

"I promise you," the redhead had told her when she'd entered her. "You'll never forget the first time Marcia fucks you..."

She now knew it wasn't an idle boast.

"Oh fuck," she gasped again, throwing her head back onto the pillow.

"Exactly," Marcia chuckled as she paused to bend forward and slide her tongue inside Alice's mouth.

Even in the missionary position, the redhead was the most inventive lover Alice had ever experienced. She was never still—leaning forward to plant more kisses on her lips and neck, sitting up so that her full breasts danced so erotically, leaning back and grabbing her ankles so that Alice had a clear view of their union.

Each shift in position brought a different angle and with it a different friction. Alice had climaxed twice already on the thrusting dildo and the sensations in her body confirmed that a third wasn't too far away. She began to whimper again.

Marcia thrust harder. She'd already explained to her conquest that the vibrating dong she inserted into her own sex resulted in her experiencing almost every sensation Alice was feeling. The knowledge enhanced both their bliss like states.

"Oh fuck..." Alice moaned again. The feelings were becoming just too much again, and once the orgasm began she knew it wouldn't stop.

Marcia bent down and allowed Alice to lap at the sweat glistening on her forehead. That was the third time she'd done that and each time she rewarded the blonde with a series of machine-gun like thrusts. Alice whimpered again.

Quite how a woman could prefer a strap on to a real cock, she'd never understood. It was very clear now. She wrapped her legs around the redhead's back, urging her on. Her hips thrust upwards, pushing up to meet Marcia's hard strokes in a rhythm so perfect she was on the verge of screaming with joy. Maybe that had something to do with the second hit of coke, this time done properly, with a line and a straw and a very illegal snort?

She didn't know and she didn't care.

"Another one," she heard the throaty growl in her ear. "C'mon, girl. One more... one more for Marcia."

The orgasm started when the redhead licked her neck and as the full force began to unleash itself, she began to wail...

***

Carmella Santiago luxuriated contentedly in the lounger beside their indoor swimming pool. It was the perfect setting for her to relax, enjoy some champagne and finish all those phone calls required to ensure that all arrangements for the forthcoming Gala party were finalised.

She'd made so many calls that the mobile lying on the tiled floor beside her was almost out of battery. The marquees were already erected, the music, food and drink was organised, the helpers for the evening were arranged and security was in place.

And of course, there would be plentiful supplies of Blush and cocaine.

That last thought reminded her. Twisting her nigh perfect body in the lounger, she reached for the dish beside her and gathered her perfectly groomed hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Leaning forward and bending low, she took the silver tube and snorted one powdered row for each nostril. Fuck, yesss...

Her nipples hardened as the rush hit her. Pushing up so that she sat on the edge of the lounger, she allowed the wonderfully exhilarating feeling to wash over her. She'd never tire of that sensation and the thought of introducing a few innocents to it at the party enhanced the satisfaction inside her. She so loved corrupting the naïve. Sometimes she wondered if that pleasure exceeded the gratification gained from enhancing their business interests.

Rising to her feet, she felt her body glowing as she stepped to the pool's edge. Stretching her fabulous figure in her tiny striped bikini, as if posing for a photographer, she dived fluidly and gracefully into the heated water.

Her thoughts wandered to Kirsten as she swam. Their Paris visit had been an outstanding success. The live broadcast had again achieved a record number of hits, resulting in even more revenue finding its way into the Appleby coffers.

But Carmella was too shrewd an operator to only think in such simple terms. The bigger picture told her that Kirsten's usefulness lay in her worth as an escort to the rich and famous. Once she became recognised worldwide as a sought after model, that value would be vastly enhanced. The New York Fashion Show would be the first step.

She completed her third lap and then pulled herself up to the pool's edge. Gracefully climbing out onto the heated tiled floor, she allowed the water to run down her bikini covered body as she reached for a towel. Then there was Alice...

The young blonde's importance to the Appleby Empire would be through her role in the London Met Vice Squad, although they'd supplement that through occasional modelling assignments. Just to pull the blonde even deeper into their world.

Not that she'd willingly give them information, of course. Unlike the Brendan Kaminski's of this world, the young girl had ethics. But acquiring information through a permanent lover was a routine they'd perfected on several occasions.

Marcia would be well advanced in the process of establishing that relationship right now, all recorded by the hidden camera for future use, if necessary. The thought sent a lick of sexual heat through her. Donald would be home soon and the recordings from Marcia's apartment would serve as an invigorating backdrop to their lovemaking tonight.

Watching real life conquests on the large screen in their bedroom while they fucked always made the night extra special.

***

The evening hadn't quite gone as Sandra Wilson had hoped. She'd been nervous and so had Goodwin. Instead of one of the intimate conversations she remembered so well, the atmosphere had been tense at times, with them both skirting around one another.

Not that it would take much to get them both on the same wavelength again—just a clear the air conversation about the other night, and about their feelings. And it was a conversation that was long overdue. But however much she needed sex, she wasn't sure whether resurrecting anything between them was a forward or backward step.

The look in Goodwin's eyes confirmed he was still in love with her and while that devotion gave some comfort, she just wasn't capable of dealing with emotional entanglement right now. Even though the burning need inside her body just wouldn't go away...

Her frustrated sigh seemed to echo around the restaurant. Maybe it was better to change the subject? "I'm leaving the Met, Alex," she said, pulling a face.

He put down the diet coke he was drinking. She'd teased him about that all night—Alex Goodwin without a pint in his hand took some getting used to. Maybe he'd been trying to create a good impression? Her eyes carefully stayed on his, evaluating his reaction to her statement. He wasn't surprised.

"I've seen it coming but you don't have to," he quietly said, reaching across to touch her hand. "If you do what Turner wants then—"

A shake of her head stopped his objection. "Don't go there, Alex. What he wants is wrong. It's based on personal gain, not what's best for the force. I can't be part of that."

He nodded, his grey eyes blazing. "Fight him, then," he instantly retorted.

That was more like it, Wilson thought. People like Alex Goodwin didn't give anything up without a fight. She smiled wryly over the top of her glass, idly running her finger around the rim. It was a good idea but destined to failure. She was realistic enough to recognise that. "We both know I can't win that one. He's too powerful."

Goodwin grunted. "I'll help you, Sandra. I'll—"

"No, Alex!" She snapped out the words, angry at something. Turner? Goodwin? Herself? Alex was close to retirement and he'd need that pension. She couldn't let him fuck that up, not for her. "We're both too long in the tooth to pretend to one another. There's not a thing you, I, or anyone else can do. Beside, my decision's made."

He pushed back in his chair, searching for something to say but unable to find the words. The look he shot her was one of resigned acceptance. "What will you do?"

She drained the rest of her wine and shrugged. "I'm going to speak to Jack Palmer and see what he thinks. Maybe being a PI is worth considering? Life on that side of the fence can't be any worse than this. The one thing I'm not going to do is to allow Turner the satisfaction of getting rid of me. I'm seeing Sir Peter Richardson next week to tell him I'm resigning. I just haven't decided exactly what to say yet."

The weary shake of his head indicated Goodwin's frustration. But he understood and that was good. When he leaned forward and squeezed her hand, she realised he'd still been holding it. "Sandra, you know I'd do anything for you..."

"I know that, Alex." Wilson turned her head away. Stop looking at me like that. She could feel the heat between her thighs—would it never go away?

"I'm serious," he told her. This was the caring side of him that other's rarely saw. Most people didn't get past his gruff exterior and his grunt. "I'll go with you to see Richardson, show him my support..."

"Don't, Alex," she rasped. The last thing she needed right now was any tenderness. If he just told her she was being a fool and that she was stupid, they could have a row and she could stomp out of there and head home. That would make life easier. Her vibrator was waiting, that would take care of her body's needs. Those needs were growing.

"It's so fucking wrong," he grunted, closing a second hand around hers. "Look, you have to do what's right for you, Sandra. But whatever help you need, you just say. I know you hate being pushed, so I'll back off." His hands gently squeezed hers. "But from one good friend to another, you know I'm here for you. Okay?"

Wilson closed her legs and squeezed her thighs together. Oh fuck. Don't, Sandra, she told herself. Don't!

***

It was just like giving head to a man. No, it was better than that. The heady experience of giving a blow job to a woman was somehow sexier, especially when that woman was Marcia. The redhead's throaty groans drove her on...

"That's a good girl. Just like that," Marcia encouraged.

She ran her fingers through the hot little cop's blonde hair, attempting to guide her movements, but Alice didn't need or want any help. She was fully into this and the thought of making Marcia cum this way had her own libido ready to burst into flames.

Every so often she eased the pressure, provocatively licking her lips and savouring her own flavour from the juices still on the strap on phallus. But then Marcia's hands would drag her head back to her task again and the redhead's need transmitted itself to her own sex again.

"Oh, yesss, girl..."

Alice's fingers shook with excitement as she stretched them as far around the phallic monster as they would go. Her pink lips devoured the cock, swallowing it deep into the back of her throat and then easing back so that she could lick around the big, purple crown. The sweet taste of her own juices was infectious. So were Marcia's grunts.

"Yes, babygirl... just like that..."

The redhead fell back onto her elbows, allowing Alice full control. The blonde cop murmured her approval as she lost herself. Her mouth practised everything that men enjoyed, but with more emphasis on the things that made Marcia moan loudest. She loved sucking cock but had it ever been as arousing as this?

She choked a little as Marcia bucked her hips off the bed, shoving her cock deeper into her throat. The redhead scrambled up, pushing her young lover backwards as she half squatted on one knee and gently began to fuck her mouth. Alice gagged again, but quickly adjusted. One hand went up to the redhead's breasts, cupping and squeezing as her other hand corkscrewed around the hard phallus, keeping it in place.

"You're the best little cocksucker I've ever had," Marcia told her as she grabbed her blonde hair again and pulled her upwards for a heated kiss.

One of Alice's hands found Marcia's nipple while the other stroked her cock. She couldn't get enough. "Fuck me again," she grunted, sinking down onto her elbows and deliberately raising her perfect, peach-like buttocks. She'd scream in frustration if the redhead didn't get that cock inside her right now. Glancing back over her shoulder, she sent Marcia a smouldering look. "Fuck me. Please..."

Marcia's green eyes gleamed with the heat of the moment. "So the little girl wants to play," she murmured, moving into position behind Alice's body. "Like this?" She began to rub the phallus along her heated furrow, purring like a cat with each stroke.

"Yes," Alice grunted, breathing heavily as she gently pushed back against her friend. That was exactly what she wanted.

Marcia gently adjusted the angle as her right hand snaked down between them. When she eased the cock home, their simultaneous groans spilt the air. The young blonde's body was so wet that she entered immediately. She stroked Alice's trembling hips as she began to thrust.

Alice moaned. "Oh, fuck, yes. Harder..."

Marcia moved faster. The heat in both their bodies told them this wouldn't last long. She drew backwards until she was almost free before powering forward again.

"Oh fuck..."

"Take it," Marcia grunted, increasing the pace. "You like that?"

Alice looked back over her shoulder again and nodded. "Fuck me," she repeated, although the words came out as a whisper. "Fuck me..."

Marcia obliged. Her grip on Alice's hips tightened as her forward momentum began to build. Alice's eyes didn't leave hers as she stared backwards. The young blonde really was a sexy little bitch.

"Fuck me," Alice said again, hardly loud enough to be heard. She was pumping herself back in time with Marcia's thrusts. It became a chant. "Fuckmefuckmefuckme..."

Marcia's grip tightened. Alice's hands grasped the bedsheets as she drove her hips backwards. The blonde finally tore her gaze away from those mesmerising green eyes and buried her face in the pillow beside her head. For both women the moment had changed into a frenzied, out of control fuck and it was simply a matter of who got off first...

***

Every instinct in her body told Sandra Wilson how stupid this was. Any other night and she wouldn't have even thought twice about thanking Alex for a nice evening and heading home. And yet here she was, getting out of his car with him and walking up the steps to his apartment. The same journey she'd taken after her visit to Appleby's open night.

The need in her body was exactly the same as it had been then. That's what was driving her actions, she knew, not logical thought. Ever since leaving the restaurant, she'd felt like she was some high classed prostitute going with her trick. That should have sounded warning bells but instead it made her hotter.

Somehow, she managed to keep her hands off her old and new lover as they headed upwards in the lift, the same one that they fucked in so recently. Alex had slipped his arm around her waist as they'd entered the building and had kept it there. Other than that, he made no other move on her. It was as if he knew he had to let her do this her way.

The lift doors clunked open with a sound that reverberated through her body and she obediently followed him down the narrow corridor, waiting patiently until he unlocked the door to his apartment. As soon as they were inside, she turned and grabbed his smooth-shaven face in her hands. The kiss was hot, frantic, but didn't release any of the pressure that had been building all evening. Instead, it made things worse.

"Tomorrow, this never happened," she said breathily.

"I know." Goodwin grunted, staring at her for a brief second.

The look in his eyes told her he'd finally got it. She felt his hands slid down her back to cup her hard buttocks. He pulled her even tighter against him, forcing her to clutch his broad shoulders for support as he ground his hardness against her.

Suddenly, she needed to see it. To feel it. To taste it.

"I want this," she whispered, smoothly sinking to her knees and tracing the outline of his impressive cock through his trousers. With the clink and zip, his belt was open and his fly down. Her breath caught in her mouth. He was already rock hard. For her!

Her hand slowly jacked him as she looked up and watched the expression on his gruff face. His mouth was open and he was gasping with each stroke of her hand.

Their eyes met as she eased the pulsating flesh into her mouth. She sucked as much inside as she could before letting go. "Alex," she slurped, staring up at him. He needed to understand her need, otherwise he'd be thinking he needed to tread on eggshells around her. "I need you to take me, Alex. Fuck the living shit out of me. Like you used to. Okay?"

"Oh, fuck..." he grunted as her mouth descended again. She swallowed him to his root, taking his heavy crown into her throat. "Oh, fuck! Oh fuck"

Her eyes flashed upwards, her look reinforcing her words. Goodwin responded instantly, capturing her bobbing head between his large hands and beginning to control her strokes. He shoved himself harder into her wet mouth and she almost gagged.

Yes, that was it. That was better...

She curled her hands around his ass, marvelling how hard his buttocks still were despite his age. Holding onto his muscled flesh gave her some support as he mouth-fucked her. He was really into this now, taking her at her word. Or maybe this was his way of punishing her for treating him so badly? She loved it.