Chapter Five

 

Kat emerged from her room, dressed and ready to go. She wore an impossibly short black skirt along with a white silk blouse and teetered on pillar-box red heels. A chunky matching red necklace fell between her cleavage.

“Ten-minute warning!” she called into the living room.

John had been listening to her banging around for over an hour and he smiled in triumph. Her submission was only a small victory, but never the less it was a victory.

He swung his feet to the carpet, pushed up and took the first painful steps of the day. He hobbled into the kitchen, checked the kettle for water then flicked the switch. Backing up against the counter, he took the weight off his left leg and waited for his morning dose of caffeine.

Kat was fiddling around in an enormous scarlet handbag. Haphazardly, items clattered onto the kitchen work surface, scattering this way and that, and an escapee lipstick rolled to the floor. Making no move to retrieve the stray item, she continued to sift her jumbled pile. Perfume bottles, bits of make-up, receipts, and oddments of jewellery all fell between her fingers. Then she scooped it up like water and sploshed it back into her bag, apparently happy with her load.

John watched in curious silence. “Where we going today, Pussy Cat?” he asked, his voice still gruff from sleep.

She surveyed him from under feathery lashes, bent and reached for the lipstick. “Shopping. I need new clothes.”

John raised his eyebrows. Shopping! That sounded as bad as the hairdressers. And new clothes, how could the woman possibly need new clothes? He hadn’t seen her in the same thing twice. A different outfit every day, and some days, she changed hour-to-hour depending on her activity. “Exactly where are we going shopping?” he asked without enthusiasm, spooning instant coffee granules into two cups.

“I fancy Oxford Street.” She took the coffee he offered without thanks.

John groaned. “And what if I said we’re not?”

She took a sip of her black coffee before saying sweetly. “But I thought you might like some new clothes too.” Her red lips turned up at the corners, but the smile went nowhere near her eyes. “You know, ready for your life in the sun. Those leathers won’t be any good in the Costa Del Sol will they.” She paused. “I’m thinking of you mainly.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he answered, limping out of the kitchen with his coffee in hand. “Just like you thought of me last Saturday when you stole my damn Porsche.”

 

* * * *

 

Kat refused to ride the bike in her skirt so they sat in stony silence in a cab. She sensed John looking at her as if he was about to say something but kept stopping himself. In the end, he leant forward and said a few hushed words to the driver.

When they pulled up, they weren’t on Oxford Street as she’d instructed. They were parked in a decidedly seedy looking backstreet. “Hey, why are we here?” Kat demanded with a frown.

“I thought I’d show you my type of shopping.” John leant over her bare thighs and swung open her door. “After you.”

“Idiot,” Kat muttered, but curiosity got the better of her and she stepped out over the foul gutter onto the littered street. “There’s no shops around here,” she tutted as John unfolded out of the cab next to her.

“Over here.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and urged her to the left. They passed a row of rancid wheelie bins, a boarded up house covered in graffiti and a deep doorway with a hunched figure cocooned in a ripped sleeping bag. They came to a stop by a steel armoured door. A chipped sign read ‘Over 18’s only’.

Kat glanced at the window next to it. It was blacked out with rough strokes of thick paint and protected by solid steel railings. “What sort of shop is this?”

“The sort of shop I think you might just like, Pussy Cat.” He winked.

It made her mad when he acted all superior, like he knew something she didn’t. It was exactly how teachers and social workers had always spoken to her. Like she was missing the point, not grasping life, when she actually did. She got it better than most. Keeping her head above water was the name of the game. She wasn’t interested in the rest—that was superfluous. “Well, if there’s no Prada, I can’t see how it will appeal,” she huffed, feeling her mood tighten.

“Oh, I think it will.” He tapped his finger on the end of her nose and pushed open the door. “You just don’t know it yet.”

A tinny bell sounded as he shooed her inside. The air was musty and stale, the lighting subdued and she had to lift her feet over curled orange lino.

“Mornin’.” A deep, male voice came directly from her left.

She spun and was faced with an enormous middle-aged man. He sat by an ancient malt brown till and a grainy security screen. Sweat droplets hung on his forehead, and his shirt was unbuttoned way down low, revealing flushed red skin splattered with moles and grey curls. His eyes loitered down Kat’s shapely, exposed legs, and he swept his fat tongue over his lips.

John nodded at him and tightened the hold on her waist. He steered her past shelves stuffed with intriguingly shaped items.

“Twenty percent off lesbian DVDs today,” the obese man called in a wheezing voice.

“I’ll bear it in mind,” John replied through gritted teeth, parting a heavy bamboo curtain and pushing Kat through it.

In the next room, each of the four walls were crammed full of DVDs, all highlighted by spotlights. The spotlights made it far too warm, and Kat felt her cheeks flush. “What are we doing here?” she asked again, finally stopping her forward momentum now John had removed his hand from her lower back.

“I thought we could do with some light entertainment.” He flicked his gaze around. “There’s not much on TV we both want to watch.”

“What are you on about?” she snapped.

“Well, you clearly couldn’t stand the war film last night.”

Kat shook her head incredulously. “You brought me here because of that?”

“No.” He lowered his head to hers. “I brought you here because I want to get to know the real Kat, what really turns you on. You choose a DVD and so will I. It will be very revealing about our deepest, darkest desires.”

Kat swallowed. He was challenging her again, daring her to pick a subject. Something that would get her hot then he would nag away at it like a fingernail on an insect bite.

“You never know,” he went on. “We might choose the same fantasy and then we’ll know we were destined to be together.”

“Oh, shut up, will you? This is a business arrangement, as well you know.”

John shrugged and lifted his eyebrows.

“What’s that look for?” Kat demanded.

“Business partners don’t usually get quite as intimate as we have.”

“Have, that’s right, have in the past tense.”

He winked again, and before she could move away, he pressed a sharp kiss to her lips.

“We’ll see. I’m going to look in the front room. You start browsing.”

Kat slammed her hands to her hips and tutted. Why was he kissing her, and what the hell did he mean, ‘we’ll see’? She spun away from his retreating back; she didn’t want to look at his perfect, denim-encased rear.

Her gaze peeled over the titles in front of her. Lesbians lick Louise, Cunts that Beg, and The Sailor’s Sperm Wails were just a few.

She touched the frozen face of a woman on the cover of a yellow box. She had a similar look to Kat. Long black hair, generous breasts with dark nipples and green almond-shaped eyes topped with neatly arched brows. Kat moved closer. The woman was bent on all fours, and the torso of a dark-skinned man could be made out behind her. He was clutching her hips with curled fingers and was also on his knees. Whatever he was doing to her had her mouth wide open in a scream of ecstasy crossed with something that looked scarily like agony. Her eyes were wide but glazed, her tongue flat on the base of her mouth, a droplet of sweat perched in the hollow of her neck.

Kat felt a rush of warmth to her pussy. Just looking at the woman’s face reminded her of how it had felt when John had fucked her wildly in the shower, when he had shoved his cock up inside her and his fingers into her back hole.

She beat down a delicious tremble of desire as she read the title of the DVD—Anal Virgin Takes It All. That was her. She was an anal virgin. Did fingers count? No, she didn’t think so. Suddenly, she wanted that DVD. Not to show John what she’d chosen, but she wanted it for herself, to watch, to see what it would be like—the big taboo of sex.

She moved to the bamboo curtain and peered through a gap created by a missing string. John stood at the till, talking to the cashier. She glanced up at the security camera in the corner. It was facing her, but she reckoned it was worth the risk. The sales guy seemed pretty distracted. She walked back over to the DVD and, with lightning speed, dropped it in her bag. Just as John parted the curtain, she reached for another DVD.

“Found anything?” he asked lightly.

“No, but clearly you did.” She nodded at the bulging brown bag in his hand.

“Yeah, just a few essentials.” A half smile tipped his lips. “What’s that you’ve got.” He loomed next to her and twisted the DVD she gripped in her hand. “Seven Days and Seven Nights—Bound and Gagged.” His mouth broke into a full wattage grin. “Well, if I’d known that was what you wanted, Pussy Cat, I would’ve been more than happy to oblige.” He pushed a finger to his temple as if in deep thought. “In fact, I think I did suggest it.”

“You’re all talk and no action, John, so just shut up, will you?” Kat couldn’t believe the apt title of the DVD she’d grabbed in haste.

“I think we both know that’s not true.” His eyes glistened, and his voice deepened an octave. “You know full well I can provide the action, you just got to say the word, baby.”

Kat slammed the DVD back on the shelf with a clatter. “Let’s just get to Oxford Street. That fat sweaty guy gives me the creeps.”

 

* * * *

 

Kat dropped her shopping on the hall floor and flopped exhausted on the sofa. She was tired from battling the crowds, and the images from the adult shop were still rattling around in her head. Her curiosity had been lit like a bonfire, and she couldn’t wait for John to leave so she could watch her new DVD.

As she sank her head back into the cushions, she realised the urge to check the inside of all of her cupboards and behind all the doors for lurking attackers had gone. It was strange, the absence of her ritual. She hadn’t even noticed she’d given it up until now.

She glanced towards John who standing at the drinks cabinet, pouring his first whisky of the day.

The obsessive compulsion had disappeared because her fears had finally been realised. John. Here he was, her imagined attacker, no longer imagined, standing in front of her and making himself well and truly at home. Her nightmare had moved in.

It was him she’d always imagined lurking in the dark corners of her home, and he’d finally shown himself. Absently, she wondered if he was a figment of her imagination and she had a hallucination confused with reality. Maybe she’d spent too many years alone and sent herself completely round the bend. Maybe the hunk of man she saw before her was no more than an illusion. A trick of the light her lonely soul had played.

She was about to pinch the flesh of her forearm when she felt the sofa sag as John sank himself down. No, he’s real. An imagined houseguest wouldn’t make the sofa sink like that or take up over half of it.

She studied John’s chiselled profile as he took a deep mouthful of the fiery liquid. His eyes screwed up as the first mouthful hit the back of his throat.

“Is your knee bad today?”

“It’s been worse.”

“My feet ache after Oxford Street. They always do.” She flipped off her heels. “Maybe one day, I’ll learn to wear walking shoes for shopping. It would be more comfortable.” She reached for a cream suede cushion and embraced it like a shield.

John bent to put his drink on the table, and as he straightened, he grabbed her ankles and lifted her bare feet onto his lap.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Kat exclaimed, twisting her ankles as her body slid down the slippery leather. “Get off me, will you!”

“Stop wriggling,” he ordered. “You said your feet ached, didn’t you?”

Kat stilled as big, cool hands engulfed her throbbing left foot and applied a strong, steady pressure to the aching ball.

She was transported to heaven.

He rubbed his thumb in a circle over the sole and flexed her stiff toes, first one way then the other with the palm of his hand. She let out a sigh and dropped her head sideways against the sofa, still hugging the cushion to her chest. It felt good, more than good. What he was doing felt great. All those times her feet had been fit to burst after she’d been shopping and this was all she’d needed, a man to rub and knead them back to life. Revive them with strength and gentleness combined.

She found herself lazily studying the snake tattoo on his lower arm. She hadn’t taken much notice of it before, but with all the muscles tensing and flexing beneath the skin it looked as if the reptile had come to life. Its long body rippled and rolled, twitching and flexing in time with his muscles. Its individual scales moved against each other in a fascinating visual effect.

“What type of snake is that?” she asked.

“A cobra.”

“Any particular reason why you have a cobra on your arm?”

“It was the name of my unit—Cobra One.”

“Unit? What do you mean unit?”

“In the military. I was in the army.”

Kat looked down at it again. A blissful tingle travelled all the way up her calf as he worked his fingers deep into the arch of her right foot. “Is that when you hurt your leg?”

“Yep.”

“Did you get shot?”

“Yep.”

“That must have really hurt.”

“Yep.”

“Is that why you left the army? Because you got shot?”

John gazed out the balcony doors at the London skyline. He continued to work gently on her foot, but there was a heavy bitterness in his voice. “You can’t stay in the army if your leg is so fucked you have to have a whisky to walk.”

“Can’t they fix it up?”

“They’ve done their best. I was lucky to keep the leg, although sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off without the damn thing.”

“So what happened? Who shot you?”

“A son of a bitch who paid for it with his life a split second after he’d fired the gun. But if it hadn’t been for my mate, he’d have taken out my other leg. He’d already had a go at my chest.”

Kat raised her eyebrows, and John turned back to her. “I was wearing a vest,” he explained.

“Vest?”

“Bulletproof.”

“Oh.”

“We looked out for each other Cobra One. We were a team and a bloody good one at that.”

Kat didn’t know what it was like to be part of a team, but she nodded hoping he’d go on.

“It was like losing my family when I left. Suddenly, I was on my own. No commanding officer telling me what to do or where to go next. No guys to hang out with.” He took a deep breath and watched the movements of his hands on her feet. “It was weird when I got out of hospital, being alone in the world. I’d always had company, someone to be with and somewhere to belong. It messed with my head big time.”

“What about your parents?”

“Mum left before I was two, I don’t remember her at all. Dad, God rest his soul, died of a heart attack a few years back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. I was real pissed about it for a long time. I never got the chance to say goodbye ‘cause I was in Bosnia when it happened.” John stopped with her feet and reached for his drink again, bending over her ankles and pressing them into his lap with the hard muscles of his stomach.

He took a drink and set the glass back down. “He’d turn in his grave if he knew what I was up to with those diamonds. It was him who taught me the trade. He wanted me to have something to fall back on if life got tough. I don’t think this was quite what he had in mind.” John frowned. “He was so proud of me climbing up the ranks and travelling to trouble hotspots to sort out problems for our country. He would have told everyone if he could.”

As he took hold of her left foot again, Kat saw a different man sitting on the other end of her sofa—the John behind the macho-ordering-her-about stuff. He had guilt issues about taking the diamonds. He hurt inside about the loss of his father and mates, and he was clearly still haunted by the shooting and was searching for a way to equal the shitty hand life had dealt him. He was alone in the world now, just like she’d always been—no one to turn to, no people to call his own. He’d lost everyone, everything he once had. At least she’d never had it to lose it. She didn’t know what it was like to have love and security then have it ripped away. She reckoned she was better off. “You’re doing what you need to do to survive,” she said quietly. “You learnt about survival in the army. So what’s the difference now you’re out?”

“One major difference.” He laughed without humour. “I was the good guy back then, now I’m the bad guy. A thief, a liar. The people I’ve robbed would be real unhappy if they found out their precious stones were cheap cuts of cubic zirconia or, worse still, cuts of glass.”

“Is that how you got the diamonds?”

“Yeah, I just swapped them. Customers needed stuff altered—by me—and I just replaced the diamonds for odd bits I’d picked up cheap. No one noticed.”

“How could they not notice?” She would notice if anything of hers wasn’t genuine.

“Because people only really study the gems when they’re buying them, under the lights of the shop. After that, it’s just friends who admire, and who’d comment on clarity and risk offending?” He shrugged. “I’ve only done it for a year, didn’t fancy pushing my luck. Someone would have noticed eventually.”

“Sensible. Pushing your luck never works out.”

“I learnt how to cope with the guilt, though. I just think of the imbeciles I saved who are happily getting on with their lives. I bet they barely give a passing thought to the guy who saved them and then caught a bullet in the leg. Why would they? They’re out, free to go and get into trouble again if that’s what they want to do. But it won’t be me saving them this time. It will be some other mug lining himself up for a bullet if he lets his guard down for a split second.” He frowned and shook his head. “A split second, that’s all it takes to have your life taken away in every sense of the word—except, of course, for the fact that your heart is still beating.”

“Your heart is still beating, exactly, and you’re surviving, which is sometimes the best you can hope for.” Kat narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I like what I do?”

John didn’t offer comment.

“Do you?”

He lifted her feet from his lap and pushed upright, moved without limping to the drinks cabinet. “You want one?” he asked, pulling open the door.

“No.” Kat hugged her knees around the cushion. She felt the need to explain to someone for the first time ever about her lifestyle. It was a strange, unfamiliar urge, and she was glad she could speak to his back instead of his face. “I don’t like what I do. I don’t like it at all, I hate it. Having sex with sad, old creeps just to get their car keys sucks as far as a career goes. Hardly what I had in mind when I left school.”

John turned mid-pour. “Thanks a lot,” he muttered. “Didn’t realise I was such a loser.”

Kat frowned. She hadn’t meant to offend him. “I tried to get by through legal means, really I did. For five years, I tried. But I’d left foster care at seventeen without a backward glance. I had a crappy, damp bed-sit, no money, no food, and absolutely no one to turn to. I was about to get turfed out on the street by my creep of a landlord. I was three months behind on rent. Then, eight months ago, Carlos came along. He was a customer in the restaurant I was working in. He always ate alone and always requested me as his server. One evening, he offered to take me for dinner after my shift.”

John shut the drinks cabinet door. “What, like a date? I didn’t see much of him the other night, but he hardly looks your type.”

“I don’t have a type. I’ve never had a boyfriend, and I don’t want one. I only went out with him because I was hungry. It sucks being forced to eat scraps off people’s plates.”

John sat back on the sofa and reached for her feet again. “So how did you end up using your body to get cars for him? Was it just the money or does he have some other kind of hold on you?”

“It started off the money and, of course, a roof over my head.” She pointed to the ceiling above her. “He offered me this place and riches beyond my wildest dreams. Thousands of pounds in one weekend and all for so little effort. A bit of flirting, a bit of flattery, then lay back and pray for it to be over. These days, I get the guys so drunk they pass out before they even get undressed. That way I can help myself to their keys without ever having to get cosy with them. A much better arrangement as far as I’m concerned.”

“Lucky for me I can hold my drink, eh?” John smirked as he lifted his glass to his lips.

Kat ignored him. “It was like a dream come true to begin with, living here, having money. I didn’t even think much about the moral aspect. I just did it to survive. I was more worried about personal safety than getting caught by the law. Going back to strange men’s houses each weekend, I wanted to be able to look after myself if things started to get dicey. You know if I had an oddball to cope with, but karate had been something I’d kept up all through my teenage years. Some busy bee social worker had got me started on it, thought it would keep me out of trouble, so it didn’t take long to brush up my skills.”

“Except you didn’t count on facing someone bigger than you and who could also fight?”

“I always hoped tactic would outwit brawn and muscle.” She scowled, still cross the struggle outside the bathroom hadn’t gone her way. “But even so, in spite of what you think of me using my body for money, I’ve been doing exactly the same as you, surviving, and I’m not going to apologise for that, not to anyone. Surviving is the best I’ve always hoped for.”

John swirled the liquid in his glass. “So why are you still doing it? You must have enough dough by now.”

“I’m in too deep with Carlos. It’s not the sort of job you can just hand in your notice.”

“You think he’ll hurt you—physically?”

“I don’t think. I know. He’s got another apartment downstairs. The girl there disappeared three months ago, and now, someone else has taken her place.”

“You think he’s killed her?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to. There’s a redhead who comes and goes from there now, and I’ve never seen the blonde again.” Kat paused. “Sometimes I wish I’d never gone to dinner with him and taken him up on his proposition, but at the same time, if I hadn’t gone along with it, goodness knows where I’d be now. Wages and tips weren’t covering the rent, let alone bills. I’d be on the streets. Hell, I’d been only days from that very predicament. It was a scary prospect to be facing, I can tell you.” She leant forward and crinkled her brow in earnest. “Survival. That’s all this life is about, John, and if you can have a few luxuries along the way,” she gestured around the room, “then why not? It makes life an easier pill to swallow, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I don’t.”

“You really don’t see a problem with it do you?” he said, tipping his head and studying her. “Most people would condemn me for what I’ve done, but to you, it’s different.”

“You have to look out for number one, and apart from anything else you feel you’re owed, you gave something up—your leg—and you’re taking something back in return.”

John looked at the London skyline again.

She interrupted his thoughtfulness. “But I will say sorry for kicking your bad knee the other night.”

John raised an eyebrow. “But you’re not going to apologise for stealing my car, because in case you hadn’t noticed, that’s what’s really rattled my cage.”

“No, that’s my job. But…” she paused and treated him to dazzling smile, “I will help you get it back. After all, thieves like us should stick together.”

John knocked down the last of his drink.

“Till we’ve got the loot,” she added. “And then you’ll leave?”

“That’s the deal,” he said. “And I’ve bought you a present to remember me by.”

“A present?”

“Yeah,” his voice turned gravelly, “but it’s a present with a condition.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” She gave a nervous huff.

“You will, Pussy Cat, trust me, you will.” He slid his hand up her smooth bare leg, over her knee and came to rest just below the thin hem of her short skirt.

“So what’s the condition?”
The tips of his fingers shot streaks of heat to her belly. She considered squirming, but his hand felt strong and sure, and she decided she liked the feel of his warm skin on hers.

“I get first play.”

“First play?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean?”
John reached down the side of the sofa and retrieved the brown bag from the sex shop.

The paper crinkled like a crisp packet in the silent room as he reached inside. From it, he pulled a long black vibrator. It was shiny and ridged with wormy veins. The head was thick and over defined, and it had a small attachment near the base, a stalk with two tiny ears.

Kat wondered which way round the attachment went. Was it for her anus or her clit? With John, she wasn’t sure. A shiver of delight tickled its way up her spine, and she wondered if she might go along with both options.

“Well?” he said.

Kat looked at his profile again. The sun had shifted and was directly behind his head through the patio doors. She couldn’t make out his expression, just the hard lines of his jaw and his buzzed hair outlined by the silver white light.

“So I get first go?” he asked quietly.

She swallowed and felt heat pooling between her thighs. The thought of John using the vibrator on her was a massive turn on. She was still thinking of the DVD titles and the woman’s enraptured face on the one she’d stolen.

“Say yes,” he murmured in a voice that flowed over her skin like syrup. “I owe you an orgasm after the Kawasaki dealership.”

Kat bit her lip. She would prefer to take it to her room and experiment on her own. She’d never tried a vibrator before, never had the opportunity.

“You can’t have it unless you stick to the condition.” John went to put it away again as if reading her thoughts.

“Okay,” she said quickly before she changed her mind. She couldn’t see his face but sensed his smile of approval.

His fingers travelled the few inches under the hem of her skirt and stroked over the silk gusset of her knickers. “Take these off then.”

Kat throbbed at his bold touch and sucked in a nerve steadying breath. She raised her hips and wriggled the elastic of her thong. As soon as the scrap of material was at her hemline, John reached for it. He pulled it over her knees and looped it over her ankles. He held it up to the sunlight. “I can’t believe you wore such a tiny pair of knickers with that short skirt.”

“Nobody knew.”

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have been able to resist a cheeky grope.”

Kat pushed her knees together. “Do you think I would have let you?”

“Yes.” He slipped his fingers into the slight gap at the bottom of her thighs and exerted a gentle pressure. “Somehow I think you would have.”

Kat gulped in air, the silence and brightness in the room making the moment surreal. “You’re gonna have to open up way more than that, Pussy Cat.”

Kat relaxed her tense muscles a fraction.

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

“You said that before.”

“And did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“There you go then.”

He was behaving the same way he had that first night in his apartment, sweet and confident, gently reassuring. She liked it. She trusted him when he was like this. She let her knees fall apart, and he took hold of her ankles and bent her legs up. He pushed one into the back cushion of the couch and held it there with the tip of his shoulder and let the other leg slip to the floor. He dragged the cushion from her chest and, in one smooth scoop, shoved it under her hips, jutting her sex up towards him.

“Damn, I love that bald pussy,” he said, tipping his head as he studied her.

Kat squirmed. She was laid so open and bare for his scrutiny. She knew the blinding white sunshine was highlighting every tiny crevice of her pussy, every wrinkle, fold and, heaven forbid, missed pubic hair. She went to shift her hips again, but his hand came down on the skirt he’d pushed up like a belt.

“Keep still,” he murmured. “You look beautiful.”

Kat did as he asked and tried to force away the tremor tapping on her inner thighs. “You going to use the vibrator or not, soldier?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Yeah, just admiring the view.” He shifted slightly and reached forward. He trailed his fingers down the inside of the thigh bent up the back of the couch. “You’re so pretty and pink, silky and shiny. Are you wet?”

She gulped.

The trailing finger dipped towards the entrance of her pussy, just circling it once before moving in a fraction. Kat could sense his eyes lift to hers, watching her reactions. She tugged at her bottom lip and held her gaze steady.

“Good and wet,” he said. “You’ve been working on that for a while. What’s been on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Certainly not the contents of the DVD she’d stolen.

He pulled his hand away and reached for the vibrator. He held it up to the sunshine, and Kat saw its silhouette by his face. It looked big and hard, scary but exciting. Her internal muscles quivered in anticipation.

It went from her view as he nudged it at her entrance. The head was cold and rigid, and suddenly, she wondered if it really would slide in. The texture felt so different to flesh.

“Relax,” John said. She heard the paper bag rustle again.

“What are you doing?” she asked anxiously.

“Just some extra lube. Shhh… Close your eyes and relax, baby.”
He nudged it back into place, swirling and mixing the cool lube with her hot juices as he ventured in an inch.

Kat gasped and arched her head into the arm of the sofa. She sent her hand down to wrap around his wrist, needing some kind of control of this new experience.

“Is it painful?”

“No.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s really cold.”

He chuckled. “It’ll soon warm up.” He eased inside a bit more, pulled out then pushed back. He set a gentle rocking motion that stretched and moulded her to its shape with each increasing thrust. It wasn’t as big as his cock, and Kat soon felt herself accommodating it, accepting it. Small, moist noises filled the suddenly sweet air. He pushed further in, her arousal coating it, gliding it.

The black cock was fucking her, but she didn’t think it was enough to make her come. She needed something on her clit; she needed pressure and stimulation there. She looked at John’s dark face. His head was bent as he concentrated on the vibrator penetrating her.

“Are you ready for the good bit?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. The pull in her lower abdomen where he was pressing with the flat of his other hand had become a nagging need. “Yes, the good bit.”

The rocking of the vibrator didn’t stop as he parted the slick folds around her clit, spreading them outwards so her nub was vulnerable and exposed. “God, that’s a gorgeous sight,” he murmured.

Kat felt the same cold texture wrap around her clit as the ears settled on either side. She bucked upwards, feeling a desperate need for pressure, her patience suddenly running dry. She moaned.

“Wait for it,” he chuckled. “Just got to find the right switch.” It didn’t take long, one tap of a button, and the vibrator took off.

Kat nearly hit the roof. Not only was the thick length whirring against the lining of her pussy, the two little ears were fondling her clit at an alarming pace. She thrashed her head back and jerked her hips off the cushion.

“Easy, baby.” John cooed. “Easy does it.” He repositioned her hips.

Kat gasped and locked her elbow rigid, her fingers digging into the tendons of his wrist. He plunged it slow and gentle, but that made little difference. It was the insistent whirring and buzzing that was doing it. Her whole body was humming, singing, droning from deep within.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, and she was. It had built that fast. The machine was wickedly designed. She didn’t stand a chance. Her clit had taken off into another dimension. Sweat popped on her brow. She reached for the back of the sofa and fisted the cushion. She was being lifted up dangerously high, dangerously fast. What could she do? She was out of control.

“Oh, God,” she said, turning her head to the side and screwing up her eyes. “Please.”

“What do you want?” John asked, pushing the vibrator even higher—the filling sensation seemed to go right up to her chest.

“I…I don’t know…”

“Maybe it’s this?” He pressed those sinful ears all the tighter alongside her clit.

It was most definitely what she wanted.

She flew apart, sliced into a million little pieces.
A scream left her mouth for the briefest of seconds before he was over her, kissing her, capturing the sound. She didn’t kiss him back, she couldn’t; she just kept her mouth open in total shock. She convulsed, every muscle charging downwards and clenching the vibrating toy with strength she didn’t know those muscles possessed.

She tried to escape the buzzing ears and tried to lose the tormenting buzz now release had been found. She wriggled and pushed her hand against John’s shoulder, but he was a dead weight lying on top of her. Not enough to bash air from her lungs, but enough to keep her trapped, trapped as the vibrator carried on pounding and pulsing at her.

“No,” she wailed desperately into his mouth. “No more…”
“It’s all good, stay with it.”

“No, it’s too much,” she gasped, squirming wildly.

“I promise you’ll come again if you ride it through.”
“No, I…I can’t stand it anymore.” She balled his T-shirt with her clawing fingers and tugged. “It’s too intense. You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I’m not hurting you. You’re mixing up sensations.” His chin pressed against her cheek, and his hand remained locked between her legs, keeping the vibrator pounding away. Her clitoris was stuck in an explosion of overwhelming awareness, her pussy invaded so totally as her treacherous internal muscles kept on spasming. “No,” she whimpered. “No more. I need to pee.”

“No, you don’t.” He pressed his hand harder over her lower belly. “It’s hitting your G-spot. Push through the feeling. You won’t pee, I promise.”

“I will. Get it out.” She tugged at his arms, his wrists, but it was like trying to shift a ton of rubble. “I’ll pee on you.”

His lips locked onto hers again and his tongue delved deep.

Kat tried to wriggle away, but it was no good. He was so physically overpowering when he decided to be. Her clit was bursting, dragging downwards, and her insides were heating up like live flames. She brought her leg from the floor and curled it around John’s hip to try and shift his position.

“Catch it again, don’t fight it,” he said into her mouth. “That second orgasm is right there, deep inside. Set it free, and you’ll fly like a bird, Pussy Cat.”

Kat flicked open her eyes and looked straight into his. They were dark and intense. There was no malice there, no hostility, just a desire for her to do as he asked and to find that next tsunami of pleasure. She held herself still and cupped her hand around the nape of his neck. Her fingers dug into the taut tendons, and she concentrated for all she was worth on the piercing depths of his eyes as she struggled to move past the bladder sensation.

Suddenly, the feeling switched. From being the most intolerable stimulation she’d ever known, it turned a full circle and became an exquisite temptation. So deep and so powerful she curled her pelvis for more, hardly believing she could after the way it had felt seconds ago.

“That’s it, baby, reach for it—reach for the stars.” He kept both his hands between their bodies, one pushed on her stomach his fingers spreading her engorged folds so her clit protruded for the ears and the other holding the vibrator steady and deep within her. He didn’t move it; it was moving enough on its own with all that swirling and pulsing on full power.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. It was coming again, just like he said it would. She could feel it building. But it was different this time. It was coming from so deep within, stacking up from the inside like a ball about to roll down a mountain. She clenched harder and the muscles of her inner thighs squeezed against his wrist. “John…” she gasped. “John…”

“I’m here, baby, Let it take you.” He put his mouth to her ear and murmured, “I’ll catch you, and then it will all be over, I promise.”

“Arghh…” Kat tipped over the edge. She let herself fall. Like a tight elastic band being snipped, her torso twanged upwards but could go nowhere because of the big body spread over hers. Her torso clenched from her sternum to her knees, every single fibre contracting around the solid plastic treating her so wickedly. This wasn’t just her clit having a great time. This was something else, something more. John pressed his hand harder over her mound, and the feeling intensified if that was possible. She screwed up her eyes and felt liquid pouring from them, trails of euphoria seeping down her cheeks.

“You want it out now?” John asked into her hair.

“Yes,” she squeaked but made no move to release his wrist from between her contracted thighs, her body was still convulsing in utter bliss.

John chuckled and tipped the vibrator forward a fraction.

That was it. Her whole being slumped like a jellyfish, each muscle gave up, only that one spot existed. It throbbed, it pulsed, it sated itself. Her leg fell dumbly to the floor, her hand released his nape and her head fell sideways with a low gurgle of pleasure.

The room went silent as the vibrator stilled.

John lifted his head. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer. A tear tracked down her cheek.

He lifted his weight and eased down to the other end of the sofa. The vibrator was still inside her. Gently, he pulled it out.

She moaned and moved her head but her eyes remained tightly shut, and her bones hung floppy.

Gently John stroked through her damp her swollen flesh. She opened her eyes in time to see him draw his fingers to his mouth and suck on her flavor.