I, Porn Star(71)

A few seconds later, he settles on a seat that I remember looks like a leather-studded La-Z-Boy recliner next to the fireplace, and he arranges me over his lap so my feet are on the floor either side of him. The thick rod of his cock lies snug between my pussy lips, but he doesn’t penetrate me. He lies back and grabs my hips, slowly grinds me into his hardness. I’m slick and wet and he groans at the delicious friction.

After about a minute, his hands caress up my sides. I jerk a little and he chuckles.

“You’re ticklish just there.”

“Yeah…” My hips move over him, the desire to pump almost unconscious.

“I’m going to let you touch me now.”

My breath expels in a burst of excitement. “Okay.”

His hands trail up and over my breasts. For a long moment, he just plays with my mounds. Then he cups my shoulders, draws his hands down my arms and captures my hands.

I stop breathing altogether when he brings our entwined hands to his abdomen and lays my palms flat against his skin. I can’t help my soft gasp at the hard, hot sleekness of him, the tight muscles shifting beneath my touch. His hands stay on mine for a minute before he lifts them away. I tentatively explore him, hear his sharp intake of breath when my short nails scrape over his skin. Between my legs, his cock thickens, extends a little more. My hips continue their slow grind as I trail my hands up over his ribcage. Flat nipples harden at my touch, drawing another sharp breath from him.

When I reach his pecs, he settles his hands over mine. “Stay,” he commands.

I’ve had my fun. But already it’s over. Disappointment tears through me, but the feeling doesn’t last for long. His hands leave mine, grasp my hips and elevate me long enough to position himself at my entrance. Between one breath and the other, I’m impaled. I scream as Ready, Aim, Fire blasts through the speakers. And even though I’m on top, Q totally tops me with relentless drives into my pussy from below.

“Love hearing you scream…”

My nails dig into his skin as I try to hold on. But it’s no use. I stop screaming long enough to ask the question that’ll fling me into nirvana. Permission is granted. I throw my head back and surrender to the fireball exploding between my legs.

When I collapse forward, he allows me to rest on his chest. But the thrusts never diminish. He draws another mind-bending orgasm from me before he roars his own release.

I’m a useless, boneless mess on top of him, when he murmurs, “Tomorrow, Lucky. I’ll let you see me.”





25



OUT TAKE



On Monday, I wake up mid-morning to the news that I’m to have my first colon cleanse. What I expect will be an unforgettable experience has been scheduled for four in the afternoon, according to Stephanie, to allow my body a little time to recuperate from last night’s activities.

I wasn’t carried back to my suite until gone 3am. But unlike the night before, Q left me in the care of Stephanie, who supervised my bath and helped my weary body into bed. I snuffed out in seconds, my mind shutting down from sheer exhaustion, which thankfully left my dreams undisturbed.

I’m wide awake now though, and to stop myself from thinking about what awaits me this afternoon, I decide to go for a swim since I’ve been given a pass from fitness training today. The white bikini set is part of the new wardrobe. As I put it on, I glance at myself in the mirror. Stephanie has taken over Fionnella’s health tracking duties, and reported this morning that I’ve put on eight pounds so far. I can see where my hips and butt are a little plumper and other bones a little less jutting. There’s also a vibrancy to my skin that could be attributed to the lotions and potions that’s become a part of my pre-sex regime.#p#分页标题#e#

Thoughts of sex predictably steers my mind to Q’s near-frenzied ravishing of my body long into the night. He didn’t leave after returning the second time. Nor did his stamina dim even a little bit.

He swore to defile my pussy. And he stuck to his word.

And tonight, he’s moving to other parts of your body.

I push the thought away, turn away from the mirror and pause when I see the other thing that awaited me this morning. The stack of money on my bedside table.

The means to my freedom.

So why does the sight of it sicken me?

Ignoring the question, I pick up the money, return to the dressing room and place it with the stack from yesterday.

I stare at the crisp bills. Two hundred thousand dollars. Probably more than enough to buy myself a deep enough hole to hide in. Except I’ll never be able to stay hidden. Not with the knowledge that Clayton is hunting me.