Appleby Blush Ch. 05

She took her time as her head reached his cock, her eyes devouring every inch of his flesh like a child who'd been given a special treat. At first her tongue played around his crown—licking, sucking, tasting, teasing—and then with her eyes staring upwards into his, she took the black shaft inside her mouth.

At first she could only engulf half his manhood, but inch by inch she managed to accept more. When it became too much, she diverted her attention to his heavy shaven balls, sucking one and then the other into her hungry mouth. It was a journey of exploration—she'd never even seen anything this size before—and she savoured each fresh movement like a connoisseur relishing a fine wine.

She alternated between licking along the hard shaft, swallowing as much as she could, and sucking on the crown. Daly's hands went to her long wet hair, gathering the brown strands in his fingers and helping direct her movements. Not that she needed any help. Giving head was giving head, even to someone this size. It would just take longer because there was so much more to savour.

She lost track of time. All the brunette knew was that his groans were building, getting louder, and she was at long last fulfilling her Wesley Snipes fantasy.

His hands ran through her wet hair, gathering more around his fingers and pulling her harder against him. When he shoved himself deeper into her throat Kirsten choked a little, but only for a moment. Her lustful brown eyes stared up at him, confirming that she could cope with anything he had to offer.

With a throaty snarl, she took him as deep into her mouth as she could, deep throating him until she heard that familiar growl. She'd have his cum soon....

But then his hands were under her shoulders, roughly dragging her up to her feet. "Time to fuck," he simply said.

***

Alex Goodwin hid behind the mug of steaming coffee. The Met canteen wasn't the most private of places for any sort of meeting, but needs must. This way, he and Brendan Kaminski were just two colleagues sharing a break together.

"How's it going?" the swarthy Homicide cop asked as he eased himself into the seat opposite Goodwin.

"Slowly." Goodwin shrugged his broad shoulders. "We're making progress but maybe not fast enough. We both know these sort of things can take a while."

Kaminski pulled a sympathetic face, trying to hold back his desperation to blurt out his news. It needed a touch more subtlety to be believable, even with someone as thick headed as Alex Goodwin.

"What are your timescales?" he contented himself by asking.

Goodwin grimaced. "We pull out next week if we have nothing."

Kaminski's narrow eyes widened. Next week? Damn—that was early. He'd hoped the whole thing would last much longer and that way he might earn a few more bonuses from Appleby.

"I need something, Brendan," Goodwin continued, leaning forward aggressively and tapping his fingers on the rectangular table. "Surely your guys have come up with something I can use? And what about this contact you have on the inside?"

Kaminski smiled to himself. That was perfect—the schmuck had given him the 'in' he wanted without him having to try too hard. "That's why I wanted to see you, Alex," he said, smoothing a hand across his slicked back hair.

"Yeah..."

"An opportunity's come up," he said, twisting his face. "But we have a problem..."

He watched Goodwin's grey eyes harden as the Vice Cop gritted his teeth. Goodwin wasn't about to allow any problems get in his way. His internal smile widened. Feed it to him step by step, he told himself...

"What is it?" the barrel chested cop snapped.

Kaminski glanced around for effect, and then leant closer. It was time to dangle the carrot. "I got my contact to set something up," he explained, lowering his voice. "But Homicide is pulling back from the case. Not enough evidence and too many other priorities. I thought you might want it."

The steely look in Goodwin's eyes firmed up further. "Go on..."

"There's an open night at Appleby's studio tonight," Kaminski said, speaking slowly for maximum effect. "It's for aspiring models, Alex. We had someone lined up to attend until we pulled the case. But listen to this..." He edged further across the small table and dropped his tone to a whisper. "I thought of you, Alex, and didn't cancel the appointment. At eight tonight they're expecting to see someone called Sandra Payne. The slot's yours if you want it."

"What are you talking about?" Goodwin spat, leaning back and shooting him a look of disgust. "You know we have both Alice and Kirsten in there. Why would we need anyone else? That doesn't—"

"Think about it, Alex," Kaminski snapped back. "It's a perfect opportunity to look around, get a feel for the place, and keep their ears open."

"Fuck, Brendan," Goodwin mumbled, giving him a weary look. "I told you, that's what Alice and Kirsten are doing. We've already got that covered..."

Kaminski shook his head and grabbed Goodwin's forearm across the table. You had to spell things out to this schmuck. "This is different, Alex. They're looking for older models. Thirty-five years upwards.

"Thirty-five..."

"Exactly," he said with a look of triumph in his eyes. "Now don't tell me Sandra Wilson would turn down the chance to personally look around."

"Sandra..."

Kaminski nodded enthusiastically as Goodwin's expression told him that he'd finally caught on. He reinforced the message. "They don't know Sandra Payne from Adam. We both know that Wilson still has a fabulous body. Just ask any of the young guys around. She wouldn't look out of place, would she?"

He took advantage of the faraway look that came over Goodwin's case, pausing to let the heavy cop think it through before continuing.

"Getting Sandra Wilson in there would be a coup, Alex. She'll love you for coming up with this one. But listen, I need to know quickly, otherwise I have to cancel the invitation. What do you think?"

***

Carmella Santiago sat in Tony's office, enthralled by the onscreen action relayed by the hidden cameras. The session in the shower had been sensational and the brown haired cop had fulfilled every expectation the Columbian woman had.

Now that Daly had taken her back to the dressing room and bent her over the table, the record levels of online hits shown on the bottom right of her screen was substantively increasing with each passing minute.

Positioning her facing the mirror was standard. It increased the woman's arousal by watching him fuck her doggie style and more importantly, ensured she would be staring straight into the main camera hidden by the two way mirror.

Every expression on her face and groan from her lips would be clearly recorded.

Carmella licked her lips as she leant closer to the screen. Kirsten's hanging breasts as she bent forward against the shiny table top were magnificent. Cock in hand, Daly bent his knees enough to get into position between her spread legs and for a few seconds he ran his bulbous head along her wet folds.

"Do you want it, baby," the Columbian beauty could hear him grunting into the cop's ear. "Do you want this big black cock?"

The words were part of the performance of course. Their viewers liked to hear the woman beg to be fucked. But to the discerning ear, Carmella knew full well that there was something different this time. That's what excited her the most.

This wasn't just Tony Daly performing as Solomon Sloane. He was about to fuck her as much for himself as for the weekly internet broadcast. It was only a couple of days ago that he'd confessed to her how much he wanted the cop.

"Tell me again." He was whispering now and the look on Kirsten's face as she grunted back at him was pure one hundred per cent sexual.

"Yes... yes. Fuck me now... for God's sake fuck me..."

They were the first she'd uttered since Daly had joined the panting brunette in the shower. No woman yet had been able to resist that moment...

Carmella found herself caught up in the action as Kirsten raised herself on tiptoe, staring directly at herself in the mirror as Tony Daly held onto her hips from behind and slid his black cock into her tanned body. It seemed that the excruciating look of arousal on her face was specifically for the camera.

Her expression changed as he entered her—slowly, one thick inch at a time—and the Columbian woman could almost visualise being taken by the black stud that way, just as thousands of paying customers imagined themselves as Daly.

The ease with which the cop had succumbed had surprised Carmella. Okay, none of the hundreds of women Daly had fucked on camera ever resisted—how could they with the Blush feeding their wildest fantasies—but there was something about the way the brunette had so freely given herself that was extra special. Maybe it was just that she was a cop that made it seem that way?

Bent over the table, her luscious breasts hanging away from her body like ripe fruit ready for picking, there was no doubt that the sexy bitch was the hottest yet. The Columbian beauty vowed to herself that when she was fully under their control, she'd sample the goods. Maybe with Daly?

It had been some time since she'd had a threesome with anyone other than Donald...

Daly grinned into the camera as he quickly established an easy rhythm. He really was a magnificent creature, Carmella thought, with those impressive pecs and the sheen of sweat that was already covering his ebony skin.

Kirsten was pushing her ass back against him, moaning unintelligibly under her breath with each rhythmic thrust. Her bouncing tits made Carmella's mouth water and when the brunette glanced back at him, her long, brown hair hanging over her shoulder, it was impossible not to be caught up in the sexual spell.

Daly slowed his pace, their gazes on one another, fucking with their eyes as well as their bodies. That look of unbridled lust was rife in the cop's deep brown eyes. Carmella sighed in arousal. She so loved doggie. She'd need to remind Donald of that tonight when they watched the video together...

The number of hits shown on the bottom right of Carmella's screen continued to increase but the Columbian woman was no longer concerned with the money pouring into their coffers. The raw sexuality of the moment had progressed way beyond any monetary considerations.

Such was the ferocity of their fucking that the table was rocking hard now. Sweat dripped from the black stud and onto Kirsten's curvy body. Daly dropped his hand down her hard stomach and between her legs. With the practiced experience of a master, he rubbed her clit softly beneath his fingers, bringing on an orgasm was so violent that even Carmella felt the heat.

Sliding his hands underneath her trembling body, Daly cupped the brunette's bouncing breasts. He was like a machine as he fucked her harder, squeezing and kneading her wonderfully large swells. It was too much for the cop and her lust-fuelled eyes rolled into the back of her head as another climax tore through her.

The black stud grinned at the camera again in that sexy look he'd perfected for his audience. He allowed the panting brunette a moment to recover and then surprised her by pulling out. Before she had time to think, he'd swung her curvy body around to face him and picked her up as easily as if she was a paper doll.

Kirsten squealed in surprise, looping her long legs around his broad back as he jammed his cock back inside her. Her arms found their way around his neck as his hands cupped her sweet ass. Demonstrating his raw muscular power, he planted both feet on the floor and began to fuck her in mid air.

Carmella watched enthralled. This was always the final act in his Solomon Sloane show. Women normally hung on for dear life but not this one.

Without warning, the brunette began to fuck him back. Even when he dug his soles into the floor she almost rocked him off his feet. Sweat rolled off Daly's forehead as they fucked like animals, the momentum driving his cock as deep as it would go. Kirsten's heels dug harder into his ass, driving him on.

He grunted with each thrust, struggling against the onslaught but unwilling to give in. The cop's eyes stared into his, her deep brown eyes exploding with lust as she increased the pace of her out-of-control thrusts.

It couldn't last much longer... and didn't.

With three more violent pumps, Kirsten felt the waves overcome her and she screamed out as she came. For a moment, Carmella thought the brunette was going to topple the two of them as she threw her orgasming body backwards and precariously clung onto his neck with her fingertips.

But the black stud somehow steadied himself...

Gritting his teeth and ignoring the burning muscles in his legs that screamed out in protest, he gave one final upward heave of her ass and thrust one final time.

His bestial roar seemed to fill the room as he began to fire into her needy sex.

***

Sandra Wilson looked up as Alex Goodwin's head appeared around her door. The eager expression on the barrel chested man's face told her he was bursting to share something with her. "Got a minute?" he asked.

She hadn't. Everything was closing in on her and there just didn't appear to be a way out. This time next week Turner would have her out of her role and she'd thought that Jack Palmer wasn't returning her calls until she'd discovered that he and Roxanne were away at some exotic location or another.

Right now, she'd have given a lot to be there with them

In truth, she was feeling pissed off with Goodwin, too. Yesterday's suggestion that he should raise the subject of Appleby with other divisions still rankled with her. She thought he had more sense than that.

Plus he hadn't found a single thing when reviewing the files she'd given him. There must have been something to find in there somewhere. Getting Alex to help her had been a sound idea but it had been driven by his loyalty not his abilities. He was best when he was out on the streets, interacting with people. For such a gruff character, he'd built up an impressive network of contacts.

But that was his strength, not ploughing through paperwork. It wasn't fair to aim her frustration at him, she knew. He'd helped her willingly, in addition to his normal work—and God knows there was plenty of that to go around.

He'd done it for her.

"Sure, Alex," she said, her voice softening as she waved him into the small office. At the very least, the interruption would give her a much needed break. Trying to find the savings Turner wanted without sacrificing good cops was proving to be an impossible task. "What is it?"

He closed the door behind him before easing his bulk into a chair. "I've been doing some more digging," he uncertainly began. It wasn't an outright lie, was it? After all, he was the one who'd had the foresight to link up with Kaminski. He wouldn't have been able to find this opportunity otherwise. "How would you fancy a personal look around the modelling set up?"

Wilson's eyes widened instantly. He had her attention.

"I know Alice and Kirsten are involved," he quickly added. "But who knows, you might find something they don't."

She stared at his eager eyes. He reminded her of a dog that had just retrieved a stick, anxious for approval and wanting more. On the face of it, there was little point in the suggestion. Alice and Kirsten were already inside the agency, after all. But there was no doubt that the thought of getting back in the field rather than being stuck behind her desk was appealing.

"And how are you going to arrange this, Alex?" she asked, giving herself time to think.

He leant even further forward, his face beaming like a child. "There's an open night tonight," he jubilantly told her. "For aspiring models to look around, see what's going on."

"Aspiring models? Me?"

"You've got the looks and the body, Sandra."

For a moment their eyes said everything... about the past... about what had happened between them. It passed as quickly as it arrived. "That's very nice of you, Alex, but I don't think—"

"And this is for models thirty five plus," he grunted in that way of his. "It's not an audition, so you could get a different angle to Alice and Kirsten."

"Not an audition? What exactly is it then?"

"An open night," Goodwin said, pulling a face. He wasn't completely sure. "A chance to look around," he vaguely added. "That's got to be valuable."

Wilson thoughtfully stared at him again. "You found out about this? Or did—"

"Me," he quickly interrupted, almost bristling at the suggestion that this wasn't his work. "I've just asked Alice and its news to her. Kirsten's still at the studio. But there's no reason why they would know about it, I guess."

Wilson shrugged. "Maybe..." was as far as she was prepared to go.

Her instinct told her this was a waste of time and that she was unlikely to gain anything from a cursory visit to the agency. But on the other hand, with Turner about to pull the plug on her career, how many more chances would there be to get her hands dirty with some real police work?

***

"Hey, girl," Marcia cheerfully said into the phone. "How's it going?"

"Good," Alice replied, swinging around in her chair and keeping her tone low.

That was spooky. Her small desk looked like a combat zone and she should have been focusing on the piles of work she needed to catch up on. And yet it had been practically impossible to tear her thoughts from yesterday's shaving session with the curvy redhead. And here Marcia was, calling her out of the blue.

"How about you?" she asked, and then immediately regretted the lame response. Why did she feel so nervous?

"I'm feeling wonderful but then I always do," the redhead laughed. Her tone bounced—she always seemed so upbeat. "I just wanted to make arrangements for meeting up. Still up for it?"

"Of course," Alice said, standing up and turning her line of sight away from Sandra Wilson's office door. She'd been keeping half an eye on it ever since her dad went in there. But this conversation was too important not to give it her full attention and she needed to make sure they weren't overheard. The small coffee area to her right was quiet enough.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Suits me," Alice replied, leaning against the coffee machine as if she was trying to decide which drink she wanted. "You said you knew a club?"

"Yeah, I know a few. But you'll like the one I have planned. It's in Chelsea and is called the Aura. Meet you there?"

"Fine." It was more than fine. The chance to dig deeper into the modelling aspect was exactly what they were looking for and Wilson would approve. Doing so while they were clubbing was just an added, personal, bonus. Alice had always been a party girl. She wondered if Marcia was, too.

"Great. Just put yourself in my hands and I'll show you what models do." The redhead chuckled down the line. "Okay?"

Alice's heart beat a little faster. She'd already been in Marcia's hands...

"Yes," she quietly answered, glancing back at Sandra Wilson's door. "By the way, could I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you have some sort of function at the agency tonight? An open night?"

"For older models," Marcia told her, chuckling again. "Why? Is your mum interested?"

Alice laughed. "No reason. I... I'm sure I heard someone mention it and just wondered if it was something you regularly did?"

"We come up with new ideas all the time," the redhead told her. "We can chat about it tomorrow night if you like. By the way—"

"Yes?"

"Wear something sexy. I always do..."

Alice stared at her mobile as the line went dead. The feeling inside her body was like static electricity before a lightning storm.

***

"It's all set up," Kaminski shrilled into the phone. He'd been calling Donald Appleby for a couple of hours now and was beginning to think he'd never get through. With Sandra Wilson already on her way towards the agency, that would have been a disaster.