Appleby Blush Ch. 07

"That's oil," the voice explained. "You love having your breasts oiled..."

God, yes she did. Daly's hands were all over her breasts now, massaging the tantalizing heat of the oil into her skin. They were delicate, firm and strong, his sensual touch feeling even better than in the studio. Her fingers dug into the table, steadying herself. The excruciating heat between her thighs wouldn't go away.

"What did Daly do next?" the voice asked.

She spread her legs wider, her mind firmly recalling the action in the studio. He'd slipped his fingers inside her panties... only... only... the hand that had slithered down her body now wasn't sliding inside her thong. It was pushing up the floaty material of her skirt and gripping the garment. With a sharp twist, it tore the flimsy material from her hips.

Her entire body shuddered. Daly hadn't done that, had he?

"No, but you'd have liked him to," the voice explained.

Yes, that was right. Treat me rough. Make me beg for it.

The hand was stroking across her smooth pubic mound now. Yes, that's what she wanted. Fingers slid along her labia, stroking her wetness. She pushed her legs further apart, granting the hand better access. Yes! Yes... please...

"That's good?" the voice asked.

Oh, yes. It was so fucking good. She began to squirm, bucking her hips as the teasing fingers ran back and forth over her labial lips. One gradually worked its way inside her, and then a second. A thumb flicked across her stiffening clitoris. Yes... yes... make me cum...

Her fingers dug deeper into the table as she leant back. She pulled her knees up to her chest, widening her legs. Yes, like that. Her heart began to palpitate as she began to hump back against the fingers. The flicking thumb felt so good.

Oh, God! She was going to cum...

***

The meeting was every bit as awkward as Sandra Wilson had anticipated. Every instinct had told her to talk to Alex first, but she'd gone against them, convincing herself that it was much safer territory if Alice was there for their first real contact since their late night fuck.

It hadn't taken long for her to realise her mistake.

He'd been difficult from the moment he entered her office, refusing the chair and standing with his back to the door, arms defensively crossed over his stomach. Alice gave her one of those 'what can you do when he's in this mood' looks, but the young blonde had no way of knowing her father had genuine cause for his grumpiness this time.

She would have told him to take a seat, but even that simple command might start a conversation she didn't want. It would be better to keep the meeting short, focus on the investigation, and then talk things out without Alice being there. She couldn't put off the confrontation much longer, that was for sure.

"Okay," she started, keeping her eyes away from the big man. "Let's just summarise where we are. Alice, how was your meeting with Marcia?"

"I didn't get a thing," the blonde quietly said. The uneasy way she shuffled in her seat gave away her nervousness. Wilson knew why—they'd put too much pressure on her young protégé. She shouldn't have told Alice that the meeting with Marcia was the key to them making a breakthrough. That had been unfair.

"Nothing at all?" Goodwin's voice sounded as irritated as Sandra Wilson felt. She knew why.

"No, dad," Alice said, twisting her nose as she glanced up at her father. "Or rather, I didn't find a thing that would make me suspicious." She turned to look back at Wilson. "The thing is, Sandra, maybe that means there's nothing to be suspicious about?"

"Could be," the brunette reluctantly conceded—it was beginning to look that way. Had all this been a wild goose chase after all?

"What about your open night," Goodwin cut in, turning his attention back to Wilson. It looked like he wanted to get rid of some of his frustration in the meeting.

She shrugged, not wanting to go there. "I didn't pick up anything either," she blandly said.

Goodwin wouldn't let it go. He pushed his frame off the door so that he could use his hands to emphasise the point. "Is that right? From what I understood, you were pretty excited afterwards?"

Wilson groaned inside. She'd seen lots of different sides to Alex over the years and this was the one she liked least. When he couldn't get his own way, he came out swinging punches, just like a playground bully. "It was an interesting night," she slowly said, choosing her words carefully. She glanced at Alice. "Tony Daly's an interesting character, isn't he?"

The blush that spread across the young cop's face sent warning bells off in Wilson's head. That meant something, but what? Before she could internally digest the thought, Goodwin was making noises again.

"Interesting? What does that mean? I thought you said you hadn't found anything?"

As she slowly swung her head towards the barrel chested man, she hardened her gaze and flattened her voice. "It means he was interesting, Alex. As in, he had a certain fascination about him. But no, I didn't find anything out that would help. The only thing to come out of the evening was an invitation to a party at the Appleby's. Or rather, a Gala ball..."

"I have one, too," Alice gushed, her eyes gleaming as she excitedly sat forward on the edge of her chair. "Marcia said it's probably the biggest event on the social calendar this year."

"Whoopee," Goodwin said, unable to disguise the sarcasm. Both women stared at him as she shook his head. "So the grand result of all our work is that you two have an invitation to a party? Are you kidding me?"

Sandra Wilson stood up and planted both palms on her desk. Two could play that game. Leaning over, she stared into Goodwin's grey eyes. "That seems to be the case, Alex, unless you've come up with something. Let's analyse your contribution. You've found nothing in the files other than what I gave you? And you secured me an invitation to an open night that's led to a dead end. Anything else to offer?"

Goodwin came back at her. "I wouldn't say the open night led nowhere," he sarcastically grunted. "Seems to me that—"

"It was a waste of time," Wilson rasped, staring at the grey haired man. He had every reason to be angry with her but she had so much crap piling on top of her right now, she wasn't going to take any more. "Both before and after..."

The standoff lasted a few seconds, and it took an intervention from Alice to break the sudden tension. "I have a feeling I'm missing something," she said, swinging her head from one to the other. "We're all on the same team, aren't we?"

Sandra Wilson's gaze stayed on Goodwin. "I'd thought so, too," she coldly said. "So let's put a stop to the bickering. Here's the position—if Kirsten has drawn a blank from her Paris trip, we'll close the investigation. Or maybe, we'll do it after we've attended the party, Alice," she pointedly added. "A girl has to have some fun, after all. Now if you'll excuse us, your father and I have something to discuss."

***

"Tell me," the voice was humming again. It had been silent for a few moments while she recovered from her orgasm. "Tell me, Kirsten. In the shower, what came next? After you'd soaped him? What happened then?"

The brunette's mind took her back to the moment. She'd sunk to her knees, and the recollection of the shower water bouncing erotically off her body as she'd studied his cock sent spasms of delight through her, even now. She'd loved his hardness, the way his black cock had felt in her hand and the power she'd felt when she'd gone down on him. His fingers had gripped her hair as she'd worked on him, urging her on.

"Like this?" the voice said.

She felt a hand wrap her hair around its fingers, roughly dragging her head up from the padded table. It was pulling her up and then forward, twisting her body.

"You want Daly's cock now, don't you?" the voice rasped.

Oh yes... fuck yes...

She willingly complied as the grip tightened, pulling her head forward. Losing her balance for a second, the hand that was gripping her hair held her steady. It hurt her. That felt good.

"Daly's wearing his trousers. Unfasten them."

Kirsten reached out, finding and fumbling with his belt. She dragged it open before frantically tearing down the zip. Daly kept his fingers firmly in her hair as she forced his trousers and then his boxers down his muscular thighs.

"Now—" the voice began to say, but there was no need. Her mouth was already covering his cock. His hardness between her lips sent another tremor through her hot body. She took his thickness as far into her throat as she could and then began to work on him. Even though his thrusts made her gag, she refused to give up her prize.

"My God," she heard the voice say. It was more of a growl.

She smiled inside. The angle he held her head made her contorted body ache with discomfort, but that curiously enhanced her pleasure. When she began to massage the throbbing shaft with her tongue, his groans reverberated all the way around her body.

"Like that," the voice told her. "Like that..."

Kirsten reached one hand around his body to clutch his hard butt as her mouth worked ceaselessly. For a second she wondered where all the well-defined muscles had gone, but she didn't really care. She was too busy to think about such things. Easing back, she gently licked around the crown. That allowed her to better hear his grunts.

She loved that sound. One hand continued to twist around the base of his thickness as she teased his cockhead. Her other dug more firmly into his buttocks.

"Fuck, woman..."

Yes, yes... oh, yes. Soon he would be fucking this woman. But not before she'd sucked out his cum. He'd shown her in the studio how good his recuperative powers were. As she corkscrewed her hands around the huge black phallus, he began to moan again.

"I want your cum," she grunted at him, and then her mouth engulfed him again. Her dark hair bounced as she sucked hard, both hands jerking on his shaft now. The insistent sucking noises of her mouth and his continuous moans, mingled like an erotic cocktail of sound.

Daly's cock began to throb in her mouth. It was reacting to her—to every suck, lick and slurp. Her mouth slid as far down as she could again, her head bobbing as she increased the pace. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto his hardness and she frantically rubbed it in. The hand in her hair was hurting now, pulling tighter as his hips started to buck against her.

That felt so very good.

She slurped off his cock for a brief second, trying to decide whether to go for broke or make it last. Give him time to recover.

The voice answered for her. "Make me cum..."

She gurgled out a laugh. Make me cum? The voice was confused. It was Daly she was going to make cum, not the voice. That was only watching.

Her wet fingers stretched as far around the black shaft as they could. Her movements were fast, hard and no longer subtle as she pumped up and down. On each upstroke, her thumb rubbed the underside of his crown, making him flinch.

"Oh, God..."

That was better. His body was tensing, vibrating. Not long now. Her body was howling for attention too, but not until she'd completed her mission. Her mouth hung open just over his cock as she jerked her fists up and down his shaft.

"Oh, fuck!" the voice groaned. "I'm gonna—"

I'm gonna? That was the voice again. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disorientation. It was Daly she was about to make cum, not the voice. Wasn't it? The irrational thought left her as quickly as it had arrived.

Her next thought found its way to her sex. Maybe she could make them both cum?

Her hand found his heavy testicles as her tongue flicked up and down the shaft. When she deep throated him, a warm spurt of musky fluid warned her that there was more to follow. Daly's body arched as if it was about to pull away. She stayed with him.

Despite his efforts, she managed to keep the head of his cock in her mouth as the first thick burst hit her throat. Then his hand was yanking her head away from him and the next burst hit her face. She frantically opened her mouth, widening it in search of his creamy manjuice. When the next burst hit her across the nose and slithered downwards, she sucked it inside.

The grip in her hair loosened and she ducked her head forward to capture his throbbing cock again. Her hand found and held the base of his thick shaft, tugging it to extract the last drops of creamy juice and sweeping them away with her tongue.

It had never been quite like this before...

***

Sandra Wilson nodded at the seat opposite her desk and pushed her glasses firmly up the bridge of her nose. They afforded some protection.

Goodwin reluctantly pushed himself from the wall to the chair, moving as if in slow motion. It creaked as he dropped his weight onto it. "Why?" he asked, before she could speak. His voice was weary. "Tell me, Sandra. Why?"

She pulled a face, trying to come up with a reason that would make sense to him. Despite the anger she felt, there was no escaping the fact it was her fault they were in this situation. Why hadn't she been able to anticipate this when she asked him to help with the case? "I'm sorry, Alex," was the best she could come out with.

"Sorry?" the big man barked; those grey eyes of his temporarily flicking into life.

The word spoke volumes. Wilson felt a lick of heat around her neck and hoped the faint flush rising across her cheeks wasn't obvious. Every instinct told her not to be pushed on the defensive, but this was Alex she was talking to. Her old friend would do anything for her, and how had she repaid him? "Yes... I'm sorry."

His eyes grew wider. "That's it?" he asked, holding his hands out wide and then slapping them downwards against his thighs. His anger was evident with every gesture. "Don't you think you owe me a little more than that, Sandra?"

She could feel the frustration rising inside her—at Goodwin, at Turner, at Appleby, but most of all at herself. All of a sudden, she didn't feel up for this conversation. She was tired. "What else do you want me to say?"

Goodwin jumped to his feet and for a moment, he just stood there, as if undecided on his next move. It made her smile, though she kept a straight face. "Sit down, Alex," she quietly told him. If they were going to discuss this, they'd do it sensibly.

He backed down onto his chair and the look in his eyes changed from anger to disappointment. "What the fuck were you doing, Sandra, coming to my flat like that?"

"You mean, what were we doing?" she snapped back, meeting his gaze. "As I recall, you didn't need much coercion, Alex!" The look on his face made her feel bad. That one might have been below the belt.

"I admit I couldn't resist," he calmly responded, standing up again. He couldn't keep still for more than a few moments at a time. He walked across to the small window, staring at the little pinpricks of drizzle that were starting to spot the glass. "I never could, Sandra, and I think that you knew that, too. You took advantage of my feelings and all I'm asking in return is to understand why. Don't shut me out."

"I guess eighteen months without sex caught up with me, Alex." She chose to ignore the shocked look on his face when he spun around to face her. "That's right," she confirmed, having to force the words from her mouth. "Eighteen months."

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if trying to take in what she was telling him. Then he simply asked, "Why me?"

That was the million dollar question. She didn't want the emotional attachment, but she had fucked him. And right now, with her body still feeling the effect of the last couple of days, the thought went through her mind that she might fuck him again if he backed off a little. "I didn't come to yours looking for sex," she lied, keeping her voice flat and to the point.

He stood with his back to the window, his intense stare taking in every expression on her face. It was as if he was checking to make sure they were congruent with what she was telling him. She looked away, trying to disguise her feelings before he saw through her.

"So what happens next?"

Her heart sank. Oh fuck, here it came—the sentimental stuff. It made her back away completely. "Nothing happens next, Alex," she coldly said, refusing to return his stare. "What we had is over and done with. What we—I—did was an aberration. It won't happen again."

The silence was painful. This time her eyes did meet his. He looked as tired as she felt. And old—was he sixty, yet? What the fuck was she doing, playing with his emotions like this? Yet he still frustrated the life out of her. Anyone else would have accepted it as the quick, casual sex it was—but not Alex. He had to read undying love into what happened.

"An aberration," he said, reaching out and putting a hand on the door handle.

Damn, she hadn't phrased that very well. "Look, Alex—"

That was as far as she got. The way his face curled in anger stopped her. He stared at her for a few seconds, the look on his face a clear manifestation of his feelings. Shaking his head, he wrenched open the door. "Fuck you," he grunted, a second before he slammed it closed behind him.

She let out a long sigh, frustrated with herself for handling the situation so badly. Especially with the way her body was reacting. Hell, had he handled the discussion in a more sympathetic way, she'd have been tempted to push him down on the desk and let him have her again. Curling her hand into a fist, she slammed it down onto the desktop.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

***

Kirsten's fingers ran hazily across the white specks on her face and body. She'd swallowed most of Daly's creamy cum but it still wasn't enough. She wanted more.

"That was hot, Kirsten." The panting voice had a growl to it.

She smiled lasciviously as she raised her fingers to her mouth and lazily sucked them clean. The voice must have enjoyed what it had seen. Knowing it was there, watching her pleasure Daly, made her shiver with excitement. Being watched was such a turn on.

Maybe it could watch Daly fuck her? Heat seared through her aroused body as the thought exploded in her mind. Was he going to fuck her now, just like he had in the studio? Giving him a blow job had been sensational but her body needed satisfaction, too.

"You want to fuck?" The voice sounded breathless, just as aroused as she was. If it stayed to watch, she might let it fuck her, too...

"Yes."

"Not yet," the voice told her, still sounding heavier than it did.

Not yet? What did that mean? She bit her bottom lip like a petulant schoolgirl. Not yet, what?

"You'll see," the voice calmly said.

She wanted to ask another question, but hands—Daly's hands—were on her body again. They were tugging at her dress, pulling it completely away from her body, leaving her naked on the table. Her eyes were closed but somehow she could still see her reflection in the mirror above the table. Could the voice see her, too?

God, she looked hot. Her body wouldn't stay still, undulating sensuously on the padded surface as it tried to cope with the need flowing through it. Her hands ran across her nakedness, cupping her breasts, pulling on her nipples, sliding down to her wetness.

When Daly's black hands replaced hers, the image faded. Instead, her hot body felt rather than saw what was happening. He was leaning her back on her elbows so that she was partly lying and partly sitting. Moving closer, his tongue was on her, licking across the underside of her breasts, teasing its way up and around the full swells.

Please, she begged, as he circled her hard nipples but not quite touching. Please...

This time it was her fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, encouraging him to take her hard bud in his mouth.