HE BLUE CAR was still rocking on its suspension. The tall man grabbed my shoulders. I’d seen the white masks three times now. I should be getting used to them. That was what I told myself.
His hands slid quickly down my arms and he’d zipped a plastic cable round both my wrists before I had a chance to stop him.
The plastic burned my wrists as he pulled on the part between my hands. He barked like a drill sergeant. “Get in the car,” and he tugged harder.
Killian was behind him. The man froze when he felt Killian’s gun press against the back of his head.
His voice was deep and loud. “You don’t want to pull that trigger.”
Killian sounded relaxed. “I really don’t.” He shoved the gun and the man’s head jerked. “I’d say it matters even more to you, though.”
The man growled, “You’re buying yourself a whole mess of trouble, pal. You’re reading this situation all wrong.”
Killian said, “At this point I’d say you have more at stake, though.”
Killian racked the slide on his gun. “So. You’ll cut that cable tie and release my lovely friend there.” The man drew breath like he was going to say something. Killian shoved his head again. “Then I won’t have splatter the goo in your skull all over her pretty raincoat.” His voice lowered. “Deal?”
The man sighed. Took a breath and filled his chest. Then sighed again. And he nodded.
He snipped the tie with a knife. I backed away then went to stand behind Killian. Leaned against his back I felt safe. He was my indestructible hero.
He still held the gun against the white hood. “Now, if I let you go, will you call this round to me? Stay here awhile and watch the fire? Maybe dive in and save the good citizen who may be trapped inside?”
Sullen, the man sneered, “You mean will I let you go?”
“Well?”
He raised his hands. “I’m a government contractor.”
“I admire your commitment to your duty.” Killian puled back the gun. I was sure he was going to hit the man on the head behind his ear. But he held back.
His voice softened and he asked, “Is your buddy okay? The one in the diner?”
He sounded surprised. “Uh, yeah. He’ll be fine. I don’t think he shares your brotherly feelings, though.”
I could hear a grin light up Killian’s voice. “I guess I’m just all heart.”
He banged the pistol butt smartly against the back of the knitted mask. The man went down like a sack of coal.
Smoke was pouring out of the basement behind us. Fire was taking hold. As we sprinted to the car, Killian handed me a cheap phone. “Call 911 as soon as we’re moving.” He told me the address. “As soon as they’ve got it, toss the phone out of the window.”
We got in the car and got moving. I did as he said. When the dispatcher asked who I was I told her I was a concerned citizen. Which was true in some ways. Then I hung up.
Slinging the phone out of the window felt wrong. I hate litter. But it felt bad in some ways that were good, too. Almost too good.
He looked over to me as we sped away. “Now, Clara, we have somewhere to be. Somewhere very special.”
When he said ‘Somewhere special,’ I didn’t imagine anything at all like the place he drove me to. We rode out to the run-down edge of DC. A landscape of deserted or abandoned industrial and commercial structures. Many of them hollowed out. Some were completely ruined.
We left the road to pass through rusty, chainlink gates. Killian got out to undo the hefty padlock on a fat chain. He locked it back up behind us and drove over weeds and cracked concrete. We bumped through a dusty warren of broken down warehouses and he parked at the edge of a wide river.
He collected his backpack and my shopping from the back and led me to a narrow jetty.
Uncertainly, I asked him, “Were are we going?”
With a sparkle in his eye, he pointed along the jetty. A rusty-looking boat bobbed on the gray-green tide. “This,” I said, unsure, “this doesn’t look like a little house.” I looked up into his stern eyes. “Didn’t you say we’d have a little house?”
He urged me along the jetty with a hand on the back of my shoulder.
“Change of plan.” His voice was firm and flat. I couldn’t read anything in it. The boat looked bigger but not much better from close up. The rickety rope and wood ladder deck made me anxious. I hesitated to make the climb from the jetty down to the peeling paint and worn wood of the bobbing deck. But he urged me on.
Those four or five steps swayed and pitched with every step I took down the ladder. A wide pair of double doors led to the body of the boat.
“Go on,” he told me, “open them.”
Out here on the river I felt a chill. I hugged my arms over my chest and rubbed them. I was anxious.
“It will be warmer inside.”
I opened the doors. The inside was dark. “Go on,” he said, “Take a look inside. See how you like it.”
With almost no light, I stepped in cautiously. I couldn’t see the floor. There could be steps. There could be a drop. There were steps. They were wide and firm. And soft. The inside of the boat was carpeted. Holding the walls to steady myself as I stepped tentatively down, my fingers met a switch.
When I pressed the switch, warm, low lights glowed softly to reveal a sumptuous room. It seemed huge and almost round. Wide, soft benches lined two walls. Soft, leather chairs and a couch, a bar and a massive TV were arranged on the thick fur rugs. In the center of the far wall was a polished mahogany door. Inside, the boat was a floating palace.
When I turned he was right behind me. He stared hard in my eyes. Then he took my face in his hands. His kiss, the tenderness he gave me, sank through me. I reached for his wide, strong shoulders to hold on. My breasts heaved and were squashed against his hard body.
His arms wrapped around me and, as he took me in his embrace the world fell away. My body clung to his. His hard thighs made me tremble and moan. The heat in the front of his pelvis sent bursts of shuddering anticipation through me like soaring fireworks. My pelvis rocked against his rigid length.
As I reached to pull him closer, deeper, the thrill of my fingers in his hair released streams of sensation. From my fingertips and down my arms, the crackle set off fuses in my nipples. Wires of popping tingles trickled fast to my core. My thighs shook.
His lips owned me. Lit me. Ignited me. Gently, he slid off the cute red raincoat and he dropped it neatly on the back of a chair. My hands grasped his trunk. Clawed up his back. I ran my fingers over his impossible chest. Down his flat stomach and around to his magnificent ass. Hard and fluid, it made my hands feel tiny.
He breathed into my ear. “I’m going to open you up. I’m going to awaken you. I’m going to devour you. You’ll die and be reborn.”
He pulled back to stare in my eyes. “I’m going to adore you, Clara.” I felt his massive cock twitch. “Inch. By. Inch.” And his tender lips kissed my neck, under my ear, down my throat as he softly peeled the thin dress off my shoulders.
With all the force I had, I pulled his ass, drug his hips to rub against me. I wound and ground my mound against the length of his massive erection. His breath on my throat, my neck, and then my breasts made me shudder and jump. I wanted him and I couldn’t wait.
As he cupped and squeezed my breast, the wait to be one, to have him complete me, to feel him fill me was unbearable. And wonderful. His mouth kissed, licked, suckled, and sucked on my breast and my chest rose to him. My leg hooked up behind his. Slid up and down the supple muscles of his thigh and his fabulous calf.
My thigh stretched up and I was opened. It shot a wild need through me, like the burst of a fire hydrant. Clutching his head in my hands I pulled him against my breast. His fluttering, nibbling kisses alternated with deep, long sucks. My nipples stung for more.
But his hands. One slipped down my back. Traced the curve as my spine stretched. Swept down and cradled my ass. He squeezed my cheeks, stroked the tops of my thighs, slipped his fingers up onto the soft flesh on the inside. Danced nearer. Played with the sensitive splashes of tingling from each part of my skin.
The scent of my raging heat made me push my pelvis against his. Scrub my wet, aching lips through my drenched panties against his hard denim. The bumps of the rivets of his fly buttons bruised and crushed my wings and my desperate clit.
His hand. His other hand. Slid my soaking panties. Slipped them down to my thighs. The air was cool on my ass and up between my thighs. Then his fingers spread and took me.
Strong, agile, and expert, he took my pussy and played me. First he tripped the tips of his fingers, tantalizing and light, all around my folds. Stopped to press in circles over my mound. Around my hood. He pressed and squashed my wings. Flattened them and dragged his finger up between them.
He sawed at the base of my clit, threatening my tiny entrance. Teasing it open as he pressed below my bud. My head rolled back. Then his fingers slid inside me. My walls gripped him. I gasped and stared hard in his eyes. My whole body wrapped and clenched around him. Every inch of my skin wanted to be on him. To pull him in. More. Deeper.
When he pressed up, a current rose and swirled through every muscle. My whole body clenched and flexed. My hips rolled to pull him deeper. My mouth fastened on his neck. The sweet dark taste of his skin made me bite him. That only urged him on.
His hand moved, fast and slow, hard and soft. I was wet and slippery, but his fingers felt so big, I was so tight around them. If he weren’t so strong I’d have worried about breaking his fingers.
No I wouldn’t. Who am I kidding? All I cared about at that moment was more. More. Harder. Deeper.
He read my rhythms like I was an open book. He knew when to lead, when to wait. And when to plunge ahead. When to charge. Ruthless. Merciless. When I shook and tried to say ‘no,’ it wasn’t because I wanted him to stop. Only because I didn’t think I could bear it.
I wanted to say No, Stop. Stop. But I didn’t. I was afraid that if I said, Stop, that he would stop. Nothing made sense. Nothing except him. His hand. His fingers. And what would come next.
He knew. He lifted me, drove me. Pushed and pummeled me.
And I burst inside. Like never before.
I needed his body. I needed his cock. I tried to reach for him but I was helpless. All I could do was grab. And clutch. And clench. And moan. And come.
My fingers fluttered uselessly on his belt buckle while he grinned, pushing me to another ledge. Tipping me over with one finger. My hands flapped around his fly. The heat and the hardness of his pulsing snake made me shudder and jerk. All I could do was plead.
“Please. Killian. Please.”
“Clara.”
“Please.”
“Yes?”
My fingernails scratched on the front of his pants. “Take me. Killian, take me. Please.” I gushed in his hand as I came again. “Fuck me. Fuck me now, Killian. Please.”
At last, his grin was like a flashing blade. I shouted as I shuddered and my pussy clamped on his fingers again. My head rolled back, showing my throat. My chest and neck prickled hot. I shuddered and trembled. I felt like I was melting into a pool. In the cupped palm of his hand.
He waited for me to recover, though I hardly had the strength to stand.
“Would you like to see the master cabin?” I nodded, speechless. He swept me up and carried me through the mahogany door and down another short set of steps. He held me with one arm. With the other, he opened a fridge and pulled out tall glasses and a bottle of champagne.
The master cabin had wide windows, tinted almost black, tall mirrors and all kinds of other gorgeous stuff. In the mirrors I saw three or four versions of me. Naked but for the high boots and my drenched, sagging panties. I wasn’t really even wearing the panties. They hung, sodden at the tops of my thighs.
My chest, neck and cheeks were red. Mascara and lipstick tracked all over my face. But I didn’t care.
The deep, circular bed was covered with rose petals.