Taboo Unchained(40)
“Audra,” I say, coming this fucking close to yanking her off the bed. If she were to get hurt because I wasn't vigilant, I'd feel like a failure, and Lucas Carter is anything but.
“Don't be ridiculous,” Clarice whines, her voice strangely at odds with her face. I can hear the insecure, nescient teenager, but I can't see her. All I see on Clarice's face right now is cold, dark rage. “I mean, unless this is part of the game.” She tilts her head towards me, strands of overly processed blonde hair falling across her sculpted brows. “Are we role playing now?”
A crack snaps through the room, sharp as a whip, as Audra Holiday backhands Mrs. Braxton across her thin face, drawing that empty blue gaze up to her face. The dress stays clutched in Clarice's hand as Audra leans forward and snarls with a rage I try not to show, letting out those animalistic sounds I'm so ashamed of. Wax dribbles down Clarice's throat in white tendrils, drying against her skin and cracking as she moves her head to look at me again. I stay stone still and keep my emotions in check. This is interesting, and I don't get much interesting these days.
“Who was it?” Audra asks, her voice a gentle coo at odds with her violent stance. In the sudden quiet, the whir of the bullet vibe can be heard again, almost melodic in its steady, rhythmic buzzing. I lock my gaze on the spill of Audra's breasts, bulging heavy and throbbing against the scooped neckline of the gown, elegant and sophisticated even pushed up around her hips as it is. I reach a hand down and cup my balls, giving them a gentle squeeze before adjusting my grip to my cock. I start to stroke myself, eating up the tension in the room and letting it feed the monster inside me. When a second crack eats away the silence, turning Clarice's cheek pink with the sting, I feel a purr rumble in my chest. I refuse to let it out, but I nurture it, listening to it bounce around inside my own skull.
Audra adjusts herself and the scarlet linens crinkle mischievously beneath her knees, folds of black silk slithering around against her thighs and calves. Mrs. Braxton looks like a bubble about to burst, like she wants to talk but also like she might slit somebody's throat if she does. I wait in tense anticipation for the moment. I suppose she's tied up, so Audra's safety shouldn't be in question, but I do wonder. If looks could kill, Miss Holiday would indeed be gutted and strung from the grotesquely elaborate chandelier by her intestines. Fortunately for her, life doesn't work that way.
“I'll play your game,” Clarice whispers, her tone shifting abruptly from addled teenager to deranged psychopath. And I thought the darkness was gone? Silly me. Oh well. I'm still cutting her off. Nobody calls me a whore this many times and gets away with it. Unless you're Audra Holiday, I suppose. I squeeze my dick in a death grip and grind away the memories with the slide of flesh on flesh, my ears pricked for the faintest hint of Clarice's guilt. I've always known she had the darkness in her – I wouldn't have taken her on as a client if I didn't see it – but I've never heard any of her confessions. Some clients, like Lauren Houssard, don't mind letting me in on their secrets, but Clarice's actual deeds remain an enigma. “I'm a bad, bad little murderess and I deserve to punished.”
Audra's entire face crumples into rage and she scoots back, sliding her naked lower body down Clarice's until she's sitting on the woman's knees and dribbling wax onto her swollen pussy. Clarice screams, but the sound ends in a maniacal laugh that makes me raise my eyebrows. I pump my dick harder.
“Don't play fucking games with me,” Audra snarls, reaching her fingers into Clarice's pussy and yanking out the bullet vibe. The tiny silver vibrator goes flying, hitting the wall with a crack before tumbling to the floor in a mess of batteries. Clarice screeches at the top of her lungs, shouting obscenities that would make a sailor blush and kicking her legs like a child throwing a temper tantrum. I remove my grip from my cock, storming across the room in a brush of fury. One monster knows another, and I see two of them, right here in my view. It's too much.
I come up on the bed behind Audra, knocking the candle from her hand and sending it to the floor in a whoosh of smoke as the flame goes out. I slide my hands up under that scrumptious silk and find her hips, pushing her forward so that I have easy access to the place I'm now craving to an embarrassing degree. Maybe Clarice shouldn't be the only one I cut off after this? Maybe I should get rid of Audra Holiday as well?
I slam my hips into her ass, burying my dick as far as it'll go. Without meaning to, I let out a groan of pleasure that drives Clarice into yet another frenzy. Fuck the bitch; I'm far beyond over it when it comes to Mrs. Braxton.
Audra tilts her head back, red hair draping against the gown and driving me beyond my own sanity, taking me to a place I haven't been with anyone since Isadora. And before that, Aliyah. Aliyah. Aliyah, who looks nothing at all like Robbie Carrell but who comes to mind anyway. Robbie. With a shout, I force the image from my head, focusing all of my attention on the other woman who makes me think strange things, do strange things, and fuck her hard on the body of a client who's paying handsomely for the privilege. To her credit, Mrs. Braxton never drops the dress, not even as I reach forward with questing fingers and find Audra's breasts, spilling them from the neckline of her new gown. I pinch and tug her nipples, grunting like an animal as I come inside her heat again and again and again.