Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

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“Not just talk,” Mitch replied, covering the hand that cupped him and squeezing her Þ ngers around the fullness in his jeans. The Þ rst time she’d touched him like this, he’d been just as unprepared and far less used to the sensation of packing. She’d made him hot, made him hard, and he’d been frightened by his inability to control his arousal. This time, he was aware of the undeniable pleasure of the pressure, but it was manageable. “Did Greg tell you about that?”

She kissed his neck, twining her other arm around his middle, keeping up the subtle rhythmic, rocking motion of her hand between his legs. “He mentioned you might have something for me.”

“You know I do,” Mitch said, shifting her hand away and spinning on the stool until he faced her. He spread his legs, cupped her rear in his hands, and pulled her into the vee of his crotch. Her pelvis bumped against his cock, and his stomach tightened. He ignored the thrum of pleasure in his belly. “Hi.”

“What is it that you want, new boy?”

Mitch shook his head. “It’s all about what you want.”

She curled one arm around his neck, her breasts against his chest.

“That is not how men treat sex.”

“I’m an unusual guy.”

She smiled, a smile of true pleasure, and trailed her Þ ngers over his jaw. “You are not like the others. I like that.”

He judged her to be in her early twenties, dark-haired, blue-eyed, pale pale skin. Eastern European, Russian perhaps. Her accent placed her somewhere there. Her body was lush where Sandy’s was slender, her breasts fuller and heavier beneath a strapless top that came to just above her nipples. Her buttocks tightened beneath his palms as she rubbed herself back and forth over him.

“But you are still a guy.” She laughed. “I can tell.”

“Can we go somewhere?” he asked, surprised to hear himself sound breathless.

“You are ready so soon?” Smiling, she looked down at his jeans and pressed her hand over the bulge in his crotch. “But you’re always ready, no?”

“Sometimes a lot more than others.” He grinned and edged back as subtly as he could, because the stimulation was starting to cloud his mind. “Right now would be one of those times. Please, can we go somewhere…private?”

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She appeared thoughtful, as if considering his words, then surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him softly on the lips.

“Anyone else, I would make them wait. Perhaps forever. You let me decide, and I like that too. I think I might like to see just how different you are.” She kissed him again, a slow slide of lips, her Þ ngers stroking his neck. “But not tonight.”

“When?” Mitch knew he sounded eager, and he didn’t mind. He wanted her to think he couldn’t wait.

“Tomorrow. Come tomorrow, and we’ll see.”

She started to move away, and Mitch caught her hand. He turned her back into him, not forcefully, but hard enough that she ended up pressed to his groin again. He circled his hand in the hollow at the base of her spine, moving her against him. “Let me take you somewhere alone. You shouldn’t be doing guys up against a wall in the dark. I want to see your face when you come.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and he saw her nipples harden beneath the skintight top. He held his breath as she ran her Þ ngertip over his mouth.

“What makes you think you can make me come?”

Mitch smiled. “I see what you need in your eyes.”

“We’ll see, new boy,” she murmured, stepping free of his embrace.

“We’ll see.”

v

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Jasmine hissed as Mitch settled beside her.

“I think I’m onto something.”

“I thought she was going to be onto something in a second. Are you crazy? The guys who run these girls aren’t going to like you fooling around with their merchandise.”

“She’s not merchandise,” Mitch said in a low, Þ erce whisper.

“She’s their caretaker.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s in charge of all these girls, and I think there’s a lot more to it than just what tricks they might turn.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I think I know how it all ties together.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sunday, Dawn

Sandy, honey,” Mitch whispered, sliding under the thin blanket and curving an arm around his sleeping girlfriend’s waist as he settled behind her in bed. He was still dressed, having kicked off his boots and shed his motorcycle jacket at the door. She just looked so soft and warm, her arms curled around the pillow, her face so innocent, that he couldn’t resist holding her for a second. “Gotta wake up, San.”

“Mmm,” Sandy sighed, scooting her butt back into the curve of Mitch’s groin.

“Honey, there’s going to be a meeting at seven. Wake up, honey.”

Mitch nuzzled the back of her neck and kissed the smooth skin along the angle of her shoulder. She smelled of sleep and cinnamon, a distinctly Sandy smell that always turned him on. Without even thinking, he slipped his hand beneath the camisole she’d worn to bed and Þ ngered the silver stud in her navel, twisting and tugging it lightly.

This time, Sandy’s sigh ended on a moan.

Mitch abandoned her belly for her breast, fondling her softly. He felt her breathing escalate and knew she was awakening. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, baby.” Sandy reached behind her and wrapped an arm around Mitch’s hips, pulling him closer as she backed harder against his body.

The sudden pressure against the hardness in his jeans made Mitch’s head light.

“Oh man, you feel so good,” Mitch muttered, his voice as thick and tight as the growing weight in his belly. He’d been a little bit hard, a little bit wet, all night. He’d kept the lid Þ rmly on his arousal, even when Irina had played with him, but he had no defenses against Sandy.

Any time she looked at him, any time she touched him, he was gone.

He smoothed his hand down her belly and beneath the ß imsy material between her thighs, cupping her sex as he rubbed his cock against her slowly undulating ass.

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“You need something, baby?” Sandy whispered, her voice sounding as urgent as Mitch’s.

“Oh yeah.” She was wet beneath his Þ ngertips, and he slicked her arousal back and forth over her clitoris, the stroke of his hand matching the slow thrust of his hips. He wasn’t going to be able to take too much more of the constant friction on the screaming nerve endings between his thighs. His stomach was so tight it threatened to cramp, and his legs trembled as the muscles twitched and spasmed. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against Sandy’s hair, his mouth hot against her ear. “I wanna come so bad.”

“Mmm, I know you do,” Sandy panted, writhing in his arms as he worked her faster. “Stop that, baby. You’ll make me come.” She covered his hand, pressing his palm onto her clitoris and his Þ ngertips just inside her. Holding him there, she ordered breathlessly, “Take your cock out, baby. Let me feel it between my legs.”

Mitch ripped at his jeans with his free hand, the blood roaring through his head, his nerve endings on Þ re. He dragged the cock out of his pants, catching the length of it in his ß y, jerking it free. Groaning desperately as the manipulation threatened to send him over the edge.

He’d never felt anything like it in his life. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

Sandy laughed wildly, rocking on his palm. “Just take a breath.

Just hold on, baby. It gets better.”

“Trying,” Mitch nearly whimpered. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and concentrated on his breathing and not on that terrible sweet ache between his thighs.