Palmer Ch. 05


"Yes, darling," Erin murmured. "Your catwalk debut. At the Victoria's Secret fashion show in Milan. Didn't I tell you that you're heading for modelling stardom?"


Giovanni's face changed to a steely smile of anticipation. She was home. The sight through his binoculars confirmed that. Even in the subdued light of the apartment, he could see her moving around. That red hair was unmistakeable.

For a few seconds, he pulled the binoculars to the apartment next door to his target. A woman was on her knees, giving head to a grey haired man. He felt his cock lurch. How long was it since he'd had sex? Reluctantly, he lowered the binoculars. Don't get distracted, Marco. Not now. You have a job to do.

Slipping the small plastic bag into his pocket, he slipped one of the reds it into his mouth and washed it down with the lukewarm water.

He lived for these moments. Time for action.

It took only a few minutes to secrete everything back into his leather jacket. Slipping it on, he took the plastic cup to the kitchen and threw the remaining water down the sink. Rubbing the inside of the glass on his shirt until it was nearly dry, he carefully replaced it inside the other three. Everything had to be exactly as he'd found it.

Returning to his position beside the window, he leant against the wall. It didn't take long for the speed to kick in. Even as the assassin closed his eyes, it raced along his nerves like fire burning along a fuse. In no time, he felt superhuman. His nerve ends jangled with excitement. His stomach heaved with anticipation. His senses sharpened like a knife.

This was the state he needed to be in. He was ready.

Standing up, he put his hand through the pocket vent and held the shotgun, aiming it at the floor. He was too professional to risk an accident. Buttoning his coat, he removed the piece of stick he'd propped between the two slats of the Venetian blinds. This was no time to get careless.

Slipping his sunglasses back on, he made his way back to the elevator. Two minutes later he was heading across the road to the apartment block opposite, his nonchalant gait making sure he blended in to his surroundings. He was just a tenant out for a stroll.

Reaching the car park gate opposite, the code-card given him by DeVere gained him instant entry. His eyes covered every inch of ground ahead of him as he headed across the tarmac towards the stairs to reception. His mind was active with every step.

The Makarov handgun in his pocket would take care of problem number four. It was messy, and he disliked mess. But there simply wasn't any alternative. Or was there?

The security guard was speaking on the phone as the Sicilian entered, his back to Giovanni. Whoever he was conversing with, he was flirting. That saved his life.

The assassin reached him just as he ended the call. The butt of the Makarov to the back of his neck sent him crumpling to the floor. Within seconds, Giovanni had the unconscious body hidden out of sight under the security desk. The young guard would be out for a good couple of hours and the Italian only needed five minutes. Maximum.

Loping across at the door to the stairs, it was almost an afterthought when he checked around him. One step ahead. Stay one step ahead! The large desk close to the door would do the job if he needed it.

He pushed through the door and took the steps two at a time, pausing when he reached the exit to the fourth floor. The silence was just as it should be. Just as well. Anyone who got in his way now would end up as a corpse, but he preferred not to have any complications.

His eyes flicked both ways along the narrow corridor as he made his way to the terracotta door of number forty-nine. Unbuttoning the bottom of his coat, his thumb held firm across both hammers of the shotgun until he pushed the bell.

Taking a step back, he swung the weapon upwards through the opening of the raincoat.


Kelli never wanted to come down from this high. She'd never drunk as much champagne in her life. How many bottles had Erin opened? And the cocaine! She hadn't realised it would make her feel this good.

She was floating.

One week ago, she'd never met Erin. Now she had a successful shoot behind her. Not to mention her first bi experience. Of sorts. She began to laugh. This was so funny. She was going to become a supermodel. Erin had told her. And what Erin said...

Not only that, next stop was a catwalk debut. In Milan. A Victoria's Secret fashion show, too! It was one of the most prestigious events in the world of modelling. And she, Kelli Palmer, would be strutting that stage.

Kelli laughed out loud at the absurdity of her thoughts. Everything was so surreal, unbelievable!

Her life was turning upside down. For the better. Much, much, better. She loved Jack. Of course she did. But her heart told her he'd never change. They couldn't go on as they were. More accurately, she couldn't. Here, on a plate, was a way out - for both of them, if Jack wanted that.

But did he? Deep inside, she knew the answer. It made no difference to her decision. This was an opportunity she intended to grasp with both hands. With or without Jack.

She owed Erin, and she'd repay that debt.

Her eyes closed as a wave of dizziness swept over her. As the heady combination of champagne and coke washed over her, she realised she couldn't stop laughing. She was so happy. She decided to share her thoughts with the two women.

Turning to her right, she looked at Brooke. Somehow, she couldn't quite remember what she wanted to say. Her brain wouldn't focus. She laughed aloud again. The smile that Erin exchanged with the short, playboy-esque model didn't register with her. But she did hear the Agency Head's soft drawl.

"Kelli, darling. We've left Max out. Shame on us." She leant over to fill the fourth glass with champagne from the third bottle she'd brought through. "Here, darling, take this through to him, would you?"


Sandra Wilson wrapped her hand into Goodwin's snow-white hair, pulling him more tightly into the Promised Land. He'd quickly succumbed to her talented mouth and now it was her turn.

Her long moan as he bathed her with long, slow sweeps of his tongue spelt out her need. Time was short. She didn't want Palmer walking in on them, but she needed satisfying.

Her legs parted further. As much as she enjoyed their slow, lovemaking sessions, this was what she preferred. Rough. No finesse. No slow build up.

His tongue probed deeper as her hands directed his movements. "Yes, baby, that's it. Just there—"

Her grip in his hair tightened. Her hips undulated against his working mouth. "Use your fingers, baby..."

Obediently, he followed each new instruction. One hand slid from her ass to twist two fingers inside her wet channel. When his lips moved to her clit, she almost came there and then.

Her eyes smiled down into his. Why hadn't she given herself to him years ago, instead of trying to make it work with that cheating bastard of a husband?

"Yes... Alex... yes..." she groaned. Her legs widened as far as she could to provide unhindered access. God, if anyone could see her now? A naked, wanton, police slut!

She loved that he knew how to work her. The gentle flicks of his tongue on her clit, the way he dragged the slippery nubbin between his teeth, already had her spiralling out of control. "That's it, baby..."

From the loudspeaker, Roxanne's moans mingled with her own as if they were in competition. The sound of the redhead being fucked last night only added to Sandra Wilson's arousal. She was bubbling.

"Yes... Alex... now... NOW! Here... I... cummmm..." It was an effort to push out the final words as the electric current switched on.

Her hands held his head in position. She was loud, shuddering. Her bucking body used his face for even more friction. Her feet pushed flat on the floor. Her ass and hips lifted, pushing hard into his mouth.

Eventually the movement of his tongue slowed, pacing her down from her orgasm. Fuck, he was so good at this. Much better than that no good husband.

"Palmer will be back soon," he muttered, sitting back and wiping his juice smeared face. "Better make ourselves decent."

"Fuck Palmer," the dark haired cop responded, even against her better judgement. Her orgasm hadn't satisfied her. She tore at his trousers for the second time in half an hour. "I need cock."

She pushed him flat on his back, her movements rough, brooking no argument. Her frantic hands pulled his hardness free. With one leg, she straddled the nervous cop. Her eyes gleaming into his as her buttery sex took him inside in one pass.

"God, Alex. That feels good!"

"But Palmer..."

"Forget Palmer..."

She began to thrust down, groaning as he filled her. Perfectly. The need for speed drove her on. She moaned with each hard, downward thrust. So did Goodwin. Loudly.

Their grunts shut out the music next door. The ring on Roxanne's doorbell. The sound of the chain being taken off the door as she answered.

The two louder, muffled sounds did reach them. For a second, both stopped moving. Their brains engaged gear.

It was Goodwin who spoke. "Shotgun!"


Max's dressing room was smaller than Kelli expected. But just as ostentatious as hers and Brooke's. Using the opulent mansion had been Erin's brainwave. Would every shoot be based somewhere as wonderful as this location?

The male model turned as the naïve blonde entered. Even in the red robe, his monster announced its presence.

"Hey, honey. You got something for Max?"

"Erin asked me to bring you some champagne," she giggled. "Don't mind me, I think I'm a little tipsy."

"Thanks, honey," he smiled. "Put it on the table would you?"

The blonde nodded, walking her unsteady way past him and gently lowering the glass onto the gleaming wood. The four-inch heels Erin told her to wear weren't helping things. There was that smell again, honeyed mango. She was beginning to love that aroma.

When she turned back to him, he'd slipped out of the robe. Naked, he looked magnificent. Her eyes stared at the rich, ebony skin. His rippling muscles. And that monster of a cock.

She realised he was between her and the door. How could she get out? Did she really want to?

"Don't look so shocked," he grinned in that cocky, arrogant way of his. "You're not looking at anything you haven't seen all day."

She giggled again. Yes, that made sense. They'd been naked together all through the shoot, so why should it be any different now? Her eyes returned to that body. That cock.

"Why don't you slip that robe off, too?" he casually suggested.

Kelli stopped her hands as they were halfway to her belt. She couldn't. That would be too personal. Not yet, anyway.

Max smiled. He knew she was fighting her reluctance. He'd help her. Slowly, he sauntered across the short distance between them. Take it easy with her, Erin had insisted. He would, but he'd seen that look in lots of women's eyes when they'd seen his cock. Maybe, if he was real careful, he could push this a little further?

"You look like you've never seen a cock before," he leered, posing with his hands on his hips.

"I haven't." She giggled again. "I haven't seen anything that big."

"Want to touch it?" he asked, standing as close as he dared without frightening the beautiful woman. He thought she might step away. She didn't. That told him what he needed to know.

"Don't be shy," he grinned, reaching out to take her hand and pulling it to his black shaft. Instantly, he began to grow. "See, it likes your touch."

Kelli's eyes widened as he grew in her hand. A fiery wetness formed between her thighs. Her grip tightened. She heard a soft groan and realised the sound was emerging from the back of her own throat.

"Stroke it, honey," Max suggested, planting his feet firmly on the soft carpet as he thrust his hips forward.

Kelli's dreamy eyes looked into his and then back down at the monster in her hand. He shuddered as her fingers ran up and down the enormous shaft. She loved that. It was her fingers that were exciting him.

"Yes, honey," he growled.

Kelli smiled. Her fingers momentarily dropped to cup his large, hairy, testicles before sliding back to his shaft again.

This time, the moans she heard were Max's. Though the soft purr in her throat continued. When she began to jerk the now fully erect monster, he slowly moved his hips back and forward in time with her movements.

"Honey, you do that so well," he whispered into her ear as he leant forward. "Let me sit down, but don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop."

Glancing behind her, she saw the couch. Her hand pulled his cock towards it. He followed. She giggled at the sight. What a thrill. What a fucking thrill! She'd never done something like this before. She was actually leading him by his hard cock.

When he bounced down onto the soft cushion, she sat beside him.

"Don't stop, honey," he repeated, when she hesitated. "Feels too good."

"I won't," she smiled, feeling the need to give him reassurance. Staring into his eyes, she began to jerk him again. She loved the way she made him growl.

"Ever taste a black cock?" he grinned, leaning comfortably back against the couch and spreading his arms along the low back.

Kelli hadn't. She hadn't even previously thought about it. A black man? But now, with her hand wrapped as far as it could around the monster, she knew with a certainty she wanted to.

But she couldn't. How could she? She was married! Jack...

One hand went to her hair. His gentle stroking across her blonde tresses felt so comforting. She looked into his smiling eyes. His male scent, mixed in with that delicious honeyed mango aroma, was intoxicating.

"Taste it," he encouraged, his dark, gleaming eyes boring back into hers. "I need you, honey. Help me out."

Her eyes returned to the monster. Rising majestically from his black curls, it looked like a God's. When his hand pulled her head forward, she didn't resist. How could she refuse the meaty offering in front of her?

The first, tangy, salty taste was an aphrodisiac. She provocatively licked her lips, savouring the manly flavour.

"Oh, yesss, honey..."

His groan spurred her on. So did the tingling between her thighs. He needed her and she needed him. Like a drug. Her fingers shook with excitement as she stretched them as far around his girth as they would go. Then her mouth went to work.

Her sucking lips devoured the first leakage of precum. She swallowed it deep into the back of her throat. The sweet taste was infectious. Her tongue returned to the big, purple head, licking around the crown in an effort to tease more from him.

For a few minutes she lost herself. Her mouth practised everything that Jack enjoyed, but with more emphasis on the things that made Max moan loudest. She had no idea cocksucking could be quite so arousing as this.

"Yes, honey," he moaned. Gripping her hair more tightly, he raised up on one hip and gently began to fuck her mouth.

Kelli gagged for a second, but quickly adjusted. One hand went to his chest, so she could stroke his shining, ebony flesh. Every muscle was hard. Her fingers ran to his nipples, tweaking each of them in turn.

Her other hand held him tight. Her mouth jammed down on half of his black shaft again. She wanted this black man's cum and wouldn't be denied. Would it taste different to Jack's? She just had to find out.

How much of his black shaft could she take into her throat without choking? She soon found out. Her hand tried to steady him as he fucked her mouth harder. It didn't faze her. He was an ex porn star and she was a suction machine, a star in her own porno, seeking her prize.

The dreamy, intoxicated blonde wanted this to be the best blowjob he'd ever had. Growling, her lips formed a tight seal around the thick ebony shaft. He was close and she'd take him all the way. She was in control and he was powerless to resist.

Max's grip in her hair tightened. He increased the pace of his upward thrusts. She let out a gagging noise but took him as far as she could again, her head bouncing up and down as she sucked him to orgasm.

"Yes, honey. Oh, fuck, yes..."

The black hips started that familiar shudder. Kelli tried to prepare herself and even as his first offering splashed against the back of her throat, she found she was cumming, too. Just the thought that this black man's cum was all hers had set off the fireworks inside her.

She had no time to enjoy the little grenades of pleasure exploding between her thighs. All her concentration was needed on what was happening in her mouth. His second burst hit the same spot. The third. The fourth. His heavy balls emptied, threatening to drown her.

She swallowed and swallowed, taking it eagerly. An animal at feeding time.

Her hand pumped his shaft. She wanted every last drop. She devoured his creamy seed until eventually even this black stud had had enough. Gingerly, he pulled his diminishing manhood from between her still sucking lips and lay back on the couch, his muscular chest heaving.

A sound at the door to her left interrupted her sexual haze. Jerking her head around, Erin was beaming her endorsement. That was good enough for Kelli. She needed that seal of approval. If it was acceptable to Erin, it was okay with her.

After all, this was what supermodels did.


Palmer didn't understand why the security desk was unmanned. The night guard was probably taking a leak. He'd had a shit of a day and was anxious to get home to see Kelli on her return from Scotland. She'd sounded pissed when she told him she was heading North for the shoot and hadn't phoned him since then. He had some fences to mend.

Check in with Wilson and Goodwin, he told himself as the elevator rumbled upwards, and then head home. It had just reached the second floor when he heard the two sounds above him. Like... like a shotgun?

His Kel-Tec .380 was in his hand when the elevator reached the fourth. Halfway along the corridor, Goodwin was racing out of their apartment, gun pointing the way. Wilson was a few steps behind.

The time between their fucking, the noise, and action had amounted to a few brief seconds. It had been a few brief seconds too long.

"Where?" Palmer asked, heading towards them.

"Next door," Goodwin gasped. He looked flushed. His shirttail was somehow flapping from his slacks.

A noise on the stairs stopped them. "You take the apartment," Palmer called over his shoulder as he diverted through the connecting door.

Way below him, someone was running downwards, taking several stairs at a time.

"Stop! Police!" he yelled, pausing for a second at the top before launching himself downwards. Yeah – as if.

Vaulting the stairs three at a time, he bounced off the walls a couple of times and just managed to stay upright. Halfway down he heard a door slam shut. The door to the reception lobby?

Reaching the ground floor not more than ten seconds later, his body crashed into the door. Instead of bursting open, it held firm. What the fuck? Locked? Jammed? Where the hell was the security guard? It couldn't take this long for a leak!

Two more efforts only served to bruise his shoulder. Even as he raced back up the stairs, he knew that all was lost. It took a few seconds to call the elevator to the first floor, and longer again to get it lurching downwards.

Damn, damn, damn!

The ground floor was empty. Rushing down the steps into the car park, he listened for any sound of movement. Only the traffic in the streets disturbed the silence. It took a good five minutes to search the area, his pace slowed in anticipation of a bullet coming his way.

Back in the reception area, he checked around the desk. At first he thought the young guard was dead. Checking his pulse, he gave a sigh of relief. A witness, perhaps?

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