“What about him?”
“What do you know about him?” Rory asked.
“Are we back to this again?” Mitch asked. “We met in prison. He did his crimes. He did his time. End of story.”
“What kind of crimes?” Brock pressed. “I don’t think we’re talking petty theft here.”
“A few misunderstandings and armed robbery.”
“Were those misunderstandings with women?” Brock asked. “And please God tell me you aren’t going to try and convince us that an armed robbery was a mistake.”
“The misunderstandings were with women, as a matter of fact. And no, he committed the bank robberies and admitted to the crimes.”
“And you welcomed him here?” Rory asked, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
“What kind of issues did he have with women, Mitch?”
“He was being tried for a misunderstanding with his girlfriend. Apparently, her attorney was brilliant in the courtroom. His ex-girlfriends were subpoenaed and they marched in one by one telling tales of perversion, all kinds of sick stuff.”
“And he told you he was innocent.”
“He admitted to the robberies, like I said. He openly discussed what happened with his ex. Where are you going with this, Brock?”
“The man is a lunatic. I think he has the ability to make Stephen Pratchert look like he was twirling a baton and leading the way for the last Fourth of July parade. In short, I don’t think you know Mr. Cash Whitehead at all.”
“Your opinion,” Mitch said, checking his watch again. “He’s a good guy.”
“I disagree,” Brock said.
“What’d he say when you went to see him?”
Rory pointed at a barstool. “Pull up a chair, Mitch. There are a few things we need to tell you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Trixie strained to reach the chain above her head which wasn’t an easy task considering how the dildo danced whenever she switched positions.
Her pussy received several jolting jabs and she clenched around the toy. Trembling from the mix of pleasure and pain, she inhaled and exhaled. Damn it to hell, she was on fire!
“Brock!” she screamed. “Damn you! Come back!”
Beads of sweat peppered her brow. She could feel the moisture pooling in the small of her back as she swatted at the hook securing the handcuffs. Each time she grasped for the clasp, her fingertips brushed against the curve of the fastener and the bar wiggled, forcing her arms to give before she made any real progress.
At this rate, she’d pull too many muscles to make the effort worth her while.
“Brock? Rory? Mitch? Where the hell did you go?” She shivered as exquisite sensations surged through her channel. Her pussy vibrated around the dildo. She hoisted herself forward again, spurring the toy deeper inside her pussy.
“Ah,” she rasped, her head falling forward. “If I get my hands on the three of you…so help me!”
“So help you what, sub?” Mitch appeared in the room again.
She jerked forward. “Please, Dom. Please release me.”
“You agreed to fifteen minutes.”
“I did, Dom. I did.”
“Are you sure you can’t stand it any longer?”
“I wish I could but I just can’t.”
“You’ve surprised me, sub,” Mitch squatted next to her.
“I’ve surprised myself,” she admitted, jerking when his fingers slid around the head of the ginger bulb.
“Oh my God, that feels…”
“It feels what, sub?” Mitch asked, stilling under her.
“Sensational.”
He grinned. “Just you wait.”
“I can’t wait, Dom. I really can’t.”
Brock entered the room then with Rory right behind him.
“I’m glad I can count on the two of you,” she barked.
“Are you going to let her get by with such sass?” Mitch asked.
“No,” Brock replied, the emergence of his dominant side difficult to ignore. He strode over to one of the toy boxes and dipped his hand inside. He revealed a flogger a second later, one with a multitude of straps attached to the end.
Mitch removed her harness and set about dislodging the thick dildo, taking extraordinary pains in sliding the toy forward and back. Her walls caved as he used her juices to lubricate the artificial shaft and totally disarmed her senses.
“I could come,” she whispered.
“But you won’t,” Brock said, swatting her pussy with the flogger.
“Sir!” she cried out. Her back bowed from the pressure.
“You want more?”
“No, Sir,” she whispered.
“What do you want, Trixie?” Rory asked, accepting a small key from Mitch.