Page 22 of Burning Embers
I recognize the glint in his eyes tonight—insidious in nature, with an unspoken threat lingering in the air.
Someone’s going to die tonight.
And I can’t help but think that my offhanded joke about finding a dick of my own had a part to play in that.
Eight
UNKNOWN
Irelax against the silver Aston Martin, take a long drag of my cigarette, and exhale, allowing plumes of smoke to permeate the air.
The moon is high in the sky, bathing the rustic red barn in silver ribbons. A copious amount of light emanates from the various windows lining the perimeter of the building, though they’re too far up for me to see inside from my current position. Either way, music blares, drowning out all other sounds.
Finished with my cigarette, I drop it to the ground and stomp on it with my boot.
What the fuck is taking him so long?
“Hey, sexy,” a low voice purrs, a mere second before manicured fingers grasp my forearm.
I stiffen at the unwanted contact before forcing my features to relax, to adopt a sultry expression.
“What’s a young lass like you doing out here all on your own?” I ask, giving her a slow once-over.
She appears to be about twenty, maybe twenty-one, and has chestnut-colored hair that cascades around her shoulders. Her nose is just a little too long and thin to be consideredtraditionally attractive, but she has the largest rack I’ve ever fucking seen. They strain against her thin tank top, her nipples poking through the material.
My cock immediately twitches in my pants. I can’t remember the last time I got laid by anyone who wasn’t my bitch of a wife. She’s been becoming more aggravated by the “whores” I’ve been bringing home. Her words.
At first, she was fine with our little arrangement, as long as I maintained discretion. But when I caught that bitch on her back with some low-ranking fuck rutting into her pussy, all rational thought fled.
Fuck her. And fuck discretion.
If I want to bring a younger babe home, then so be it, so long as my children never catch me in the act.
The woman places her ample breasts against my arm and begins to giggle coyishly. I smirk at her indulgently as I fiddle with the strap of her shirt, pulling it down her arm so her breast can spring free.
Not the best pair of tits I’ve ever seen but definitely not bad. Her pink nipple is already as hard as a diamond.
I consider fucking her right here and now, taking her against the hood of my car, when something golden catches my attention in the distance.
Isabella Gracie Martin moves confidently towards the entrance of the barn, her hips swaying in a way that draws my attention to her firm ass. My cock becomes even harder, practically bulging against my zipper, and I have to hold in the desperate groan that threatens to escape.
I’ve always had a thing for blondes.
Soon, she disappears inside of the barn, not even sparing a look to the shadow in the distance, watching her intensely. I lick my lower lip as hunger flares in my chest.
“Wow. Someone’s excited,” the woman coos, dragging her fingernails down my chest and stopping at the bulge in my pants.
She bats her eyelashes incessantly at me, no doubt thinking the cause of my arousal is her. Still, a mouth around my cock is better than my own hand.
I grab her nipple and give it a hard pinch, eliciting a gasp of surprise from the woman. Pain splays across her face, and my arousal amplifies tenfold. Before she can change her mind and try to run, I grab her hair and force her to her knees at my feet. With my free hand, I unzip my pants and pull my cock out, allowing the tip to drag along her lips.
“What are you doing?” she asks in alarm, struggling against my hold on her. Her tits bounce in a way that draws my eye.
“Shut up,” I bark.
When she opens her mouth to protest, I feed my cock into her mouth, one inch at a time. She gags around me, tears filling her eyes, but I simply force myself deeper inside of her. She’s nothing but a vessel for me, after all. A little slut for me to use and discard.
And, when I close my eyes, I can picture her hair is golden blonde.