J. Konrath - Cherry Bomb

Alex holds the stun gun against Lance’s stomach long enough to drop him to his knees. Before he can recover, she hits him in the temple with the meat of her palm, hard enough to jerk his head to the side. He collapses.

She drags Lance into the hotel room, locks the door behind her, and muscles him over to the bed. He’s heavy, cumbersome, but she lifts with her legs and jerks him onto the mattress. He begins to moan, so she juices him with the Cheetah stun gun again, causing his limbs to twitch and contract. She holds it there for a few seconds, and when she kills the power he’s limp and a line of drool is running down his chin.

It takes a few seconds to start the roll of duct tape, but when she does she uses a long strip to bind his left wrist to the leg of the bed. The other limbs follow suit, until he’s spread-eagled and immobilized.

Using the box cutter, she starts at the cuff of his jeans and slices the fabric upward to his belt line, careful not to nick his skin. Then she does the other leg. Then his shirt, until all he has on are his shoes, socks, and Duff Beer boxer shorts. Alex tosses the knife aside and tears off the shorts with her hands, feeling the excitement build, feeling herself get wet.

It isn’t necessary for Lance to be naked. Alex could have gotten what she wanted just by unzipping his fly. But she likes seeing men naked. Especially good-looking men. It’s been a long time.

Since being out of prison, no one has stepped up to the plate. One came close, until he got a good look at her face and sarcastically demanded she wear two bags over her head, “in case one fell off.” She left him in a Chicago bar with two teeth in his mouth and a broken pelvis.

But things are definitely looking up. Alex runs her fingernails through Lance’s chest hair, then pinches his nipples. He stirs, glassy eyes focusing, and calls her a name he knew her by.

“Hi, Lance. It’s been a long time.”

Lance tries to move, sees he’s taped to the bed.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh.” Alex puts a fingertip to his lips. “No talking, or I’ll gag you. I need a few things from you, Lance. First, I need you to fuck me. Hard. Then I need to know where your EOD lieut lives, where he keeps his van, and what kind of toys you boys have in there.”

“What the hell are you-”

Alex grabs his ear, jerks his head to the side.

“I said no talking.”

He looks terrified, which is a terrific turn-on. Alex wants to kiss him, but doesn’t want to risk being bitten, or worse, rebuffed. Instead she runs her teeth across his neck and nibbles her way down his body, across his chest, to his belly button. He tastes good, like a man, tangy and hot. Alex grabs him, feels that he’s responding even though he’s frightened. This pleases her; she won’t have to use the tadalafil she liberated from the coffee shop guy.

She moves her head down, holding his cock in both hands, running her tongue up along the side of the shaft. A thought hits her: Will I be able to function normally? Half of her face muscles are gone. But when she takes him in her mouth he offers no objections to her technique. And as she lowers her head farther, opening her throat, Lance’s hips begin to pump.

Alex matches his thrusts for several strokes, then releases him, both of them breathing heavy. She’s hot, hot and wet, and she wants to climb on and impale herself. But they have done this dance, many times, in the past. And though Lance may have gotten better since those days, Alex doesn’t want to have to rely on his staying power. She reaches for the nightstand, tears open the bag of rubber bands, and winds a fat one around the base of his dick.

Lance makes a noise of protest, and Alex gives the rubber band a snap, shutting him up.

She straddles him, guides him into her, and moves down slowly, deliciously, until she’s filled. Hands on his chest, she begins to raise and lower her hips. Easy at first. No need to rush. At the bottom of each stroke she presses into him, grinding her hips, which makes her gasp with plea sure each time.

Alex wants to draw it out, to tease herself. But it’s been too long and the rhythm becomes involuntary, unstoppable. She pushes into him, harder, faster, and all too quickly the first spike of orgasm seizes her, building into a large peak that forces a cry, and then spreading to envelop her entire body like a shock wave, prompting a throaty scream that makes her feel whole again.

Alex doesn’t stop at one. Or two. Or four. She goes at him from many positions, and he’s so into it that by the second hour he’s begging her to undo the rubber band, to let him come. Alex promises she will, and as she rides his face and his probing tongue works her into a frenzy she orgasms a fifth time and almost considers keeping her promise.

Instead, Alex climbs off the bed, heart hammering and legs shaky, and gives him a gentle pat on the cheek.

“Jesus, I really needed that.”

“What about me, babe?” Lance looks so desperate, so pathetic. He wants her, even though she’s a hideous freak.

“Consider it payback for all the times when you got yours and I didn’t get mine. Now it’s time to move on to the second part of the evening. If you tell me what I need to know, I promise I won’t kill your wife and family. Hell, you may even live through this, if Jack is fast enough.”

Lance stares at her, his face a snapshot of confusion. Alex goes to the nightstand. She flicks on the butane torch, adjusts it to a blue flame, and gives him a quick, two-second taste on his thigh.

Lance howls.

“That’s nothing. I can keep it there for a lot longer. Or move to more sensitive parts.”

She gives his erection a playful flick with her finger.

“What…what the hell do you want?”

“I’ve followed your career. You’ve done well with the police department. Been in the papers several times. Always were a bit of an adrenaline junkie, Lance. Is that why you picked the EOD?”

He stays silent. Alex brings the torch up to his face. The flame makes a hissing sound, like a snake. Lance quickly nods.

“Most squads have a van or a truck with their equipment in it. They don’t like to leave dangerous materials at work. Too risky. So they take it home. Does your boss have one?”

Another nod.

“Truck or a van?”

“A van.”

“What sort of goodies are you boys packing?”

Lance opens his mouth but nothing comes out. His eyes are locked on the torch.

“Dammit, Lance. Focus. What kind of caps?”

“Bridgewire.”

“Sun cord?”

“Maybe three hundred feet on a spool.”

“Got a pigstick?”

“Yeah.”

“Rounds?”

“Two cases. Assorted.”

“How about initiators?”

“Yeah.”

“It sounds like you’ve got a very well-stocked van, Lance. Now tell me about the big stuff.”

“My…throat’s dry.”

“That’s because you’re afraid I’m going to burn you again. And I will, Lance, unless you focus. What else you got?”

“PENO.”

“Nice. That’s Finnish, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“How many bricks?”

“Six.”

“Anything else? Tell the truth now, Lance, or we’re gonna have a weenie roast.”

“We…we got a few M18A1s.”

Alex raises her good eyebrow.

“Really? Wow. That’s impressive. So far, so good. Now, the moment of truth.”

Alex leans forward, peering into his eyes.

“Where’s the van?”

Lance doesn’t say anything.

“You sure you want to play hard to get, Lance?”

His Adam’s apple bobbles up and down like a tetherball.

“If…if…I tell you, what are…what are you going to do to him?”

“I just want to borrow his van.”

“I don’t want him or his daughter to get hurt.”