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"Going Straight" (closed)

Devon let Jennifer position him on the seat, he could see where she was going with it and his cock throbbed and rose even harder at the very thought of what was to come. As she told him he still looked good for an old man he grinned and chuckle, he wasn't feeling at all hesitant or nervous about this, despite it having been years since he had last been with a woman. It was like falling off a bike he considered, though fucking in a car nobody expected mind altering sex, it was just to restrictive. As her fingers slid around him his cock to position is he gasped softly, not expecting the jolt of pleasure simply from her touch alone. His eyes widened a little more as he felt the warm wetness of her pussy lips as she pushed her hips forward to his. He was finally going to be inside her, they would be joined. A weird part of his mind wondered if it would compare with his first time with Steph, but he forced that away, this was his and Jennifer's time.

"You ready for this?" She whispered.

He brought his eyes to hers as he felt his cock slowly inch her lips apart, his bulbous cock head spreading her lips as he smiled and winked.

"Lets find out, beautiful." He replied in a whisper of his own as his hands came to her hips.

God, her skin was so smooth and warm, like silk under his calloused hands and fingers. He grunted slightly as she pushed down more and his cock head finally slipped inside her tightness. His eyes half closed in pleasure as he licked his lips. His hands slipped from her hips to her firm round ass, squeezing, cupping them softly as he again made eye contact. He wanted to see all this in her eyes. The eyes don't lie an old detective of his had once said and McCauley supposed that went equally for those you loved as it did for suspects you questioned.

"So tight." He whispered.

And it was, or at least it felt that way to him. He wondered how much sex Jen had had recently, if any. Of course it might just be that he had forgotten how a woman's pussy felt around his dick. He looked down her body to where they were now joined together, his cock looking so big as it stretched her lips and slowly vanished up inside her. Slow and easy wins the day, he chuckled to himself as inch after inch went up into her.
 
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Jennifer and Devon, fucking in the parking garage :D

"So tight," Devon whispered as his cock finally pushed through the resistance of her tight muscles.

His wondering about how long it had been for her was answered by Jennifer whispering, "It's been a while."

She meant it had been a while since she'd fucked. Jennifer masturbated regularly, maybe three or four times a week. She didn't use dildos, though, or anything else that penetrated. Her favorite toy was called the Magic Bunny; it was a vibrating, USB-rechargeable button with a fingertip ring. It did things for her clit that even the most skilled lover couldn't even consider.

But Jennifer loved intercourse; she loved to fuck. Feeling Devon's cock slipping slowly deeper into her tightness made her forget all about her toy. She reached the hand that had been grasping his cock to the hand on her ass, pushing it tighter to her flesh as she demanded, "Faster ... harder and deeper."

Even as she was giving her orders, Jennifer began shoving her pussy forward to take Devon's length deep inside her, pulling back until only his big head remained inside, then repeated. She grasped the back of the seat on either side of Devon's head, using it tightly as she worked his in and out of her. Jennifer moaned with every other thrust, drawing a breath on the others.

She'd been looking up at the vehicle's roof, just inches from her face, but now as she looked down, she found Devon looking into her eyes. She smiled as well as she could considering the rhythmic moaning, telling him, "I'm so glad ... so glad ... we found ... each other ... so happy."
 
"For me too." Devon said in reply to Jen's comment about it having been a while.

For McCauley he masturbated, sure, didn't everyone, to a variety of porn, some of which he was sure his departed wife Steph would have frowned at, but he had found it harder and harder to get arousal, the more time past the more difficult it was for him to get hard even to porn. But that didn't stop him jerking one out most every day. However it seemed he no longer had that problem. Jennifer was the key, the solution to his arousal, to his heart, to his mind and body. Just seeing her, hearing her voice, smelling her scent got him hard and right now as he pushed in and out of her tight warm velvet sheath he was trying to recite the alphabet backwards to stop himself cumming. No, no he would not cum this fast, he wouldn't! He had more control over his body, he didn't want to disappoint her, he loved her, he wanted to make her happy. He gritted his teeth.

"Faster ... harder and deeper." Her breathless voice ordered and despite his balls starting to tighten up he did as his lady asked.

He started to thrust hard, deeper, faster, plowing into her smaller body beneath him as his breathing became labored, mixing with hers in the small confines of the car.

She smiled as well as she could considering the rhythmic moaning, telling him, "I'm so glad ... so glad ... we found ... each other ... so happy."

That was it, hearing her sweet voice right then was to much and almost sobbing in embarrassment he started to cum. He fucked back into her hard and held there, his fingers digging into her taught ass flesh as his head came down on her shoulder, his breath heavy and warm as shot after shot flooded her insides. Slowly he came back down to earth, getting control of his breathing, lifting his head from Jennifer's shoulder to look into her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't .... it just felt so good." He tried to explain, hoping that in what he didn't say she would understand, that she had been the only other female he had sex with since his wife died so many years ago.
 
Belinda and Marcus at her place:

"It wasn't an official Untouchables operation," Marcus responded to Belinda's questions about the excitement in the Jackson Projects.

"Official," she said, indicating that she understood that his Task Force was in fact involved in some way. She urged, "And...?"

"The Governor and ADA Shovelli wouldn't have been pleased if we went in there and started a war," he went on.

Just the mention of Laura Shovelli made Belinda's lips widen a bit, followed a moment later by a chill climbing her spine. In her mind's eye, she could still see and hear the Prosecutor crying out in ecstasy on the bed just beyond the door through which Marcus had been peeking at her.

"As far as I know, right now it sounds like a drug war," Marcus went on. "Someone wasn't happy the 44's were cooking up meth and god knows what else down in those tunnels."

"Was that someone CCPD?" she asked. "Narcotics...? OCB?"

Belinda smiled knowingly. She still suspected Marcus had a hand in this, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"It could of been the Columbians," he told her. "They wouldn't take kindly to their drug profits being dented by the gangs and they would certainly have the hardware that is reported to have been used in the raid."

"Hardware ... meaning a helicopter," she said, more of a statement than a question. Snatching up the notebook sitting on the kitchen island near her cell phone, she flipped a couple of pages and read from her notes: "Black or otherwise dark helicopter, no running lights, no obvious markings or tail numbers."

She looked up to Marcus. He was hard to read sometimes, but Belinda thought his expression shifted toward curiosity, as if he was wondering where the hell did you learn that? She informed him, "One of my sources lives in a nearby building. She got pictures of the helicopter on her phone."

That last part wasn't at all true; the witness yes, but not the pics. Belinda just wanted to see what Marcus's reaction would be.

"All I can tell you for certain it that investigations are under way."

Belinda noticed that he ignored the whole helicopter topic altogether. That was sort of disappointing. She took that to mean that he had no worries about his Untouchables having been caught on a camera phone. He went on about a professional kill squad and body count.

She flipped a page in her book and began asking the typical follow-up questions any reporter would ask about a crime scene, while simultaneously returning to the kitchen to tend to the breakfast she was making him. Marcus answered as was appropriate for his agreement with Emelia D'Angelo. The information was helpful, and Belinda was, of course, getting it before any other reporter would.

But it wasn't career advancing. She needed something big!

Belinda continued her questions from the kitchen until Marcus's plate was ready. She made her way back to the living room, sat on the coffee table in front of him, and handed out the plate and silverware. She waited until he'd tasted it, asked him how it was ... then pulled her top off over her head and set it aside.

As he reacted, she smiled, telling him, "I need something no other reporter can get. Gimme that ... something big ... and I'll take my bra off, too."
 
Belinda seemed to have great reporter instincts, Marcus considered as he watched her expressions and questions as he told his story. He knew she wasn't buying any or all of what he was selling, but he also knew down the line she would get some big juicy headlines that would catapult her career even further. What he had given her though, if not entirely true, was more than any other journalist had this soon after the attack had gone down. He also knew that even if the Columbians denied they conducted the raid hardly anyone would believe them. Of course there was also a fairly good chance they would simply take the credit and keep their mouths shut. The raid was conducted with military precision, Marcus knew that because he had been there. It wouldn't hurt the Columbian's reputation if other gangs and crime families thought they were this good.

He took the food Belinda offered as she sat before him on the coffee table. Digging in he forked a mouthful of eggs into his mouth and chewed, then nodded as she asked how it was. It was pretty damn good he thought. It was only eggs, what could you really do with them, but it tasted amazing and he quickly added another mouthful. Then she took her top off and he nearly swallowed the eggs into his lungs. Well, she was very forward, he liked that. He slowly put the plate and utensils aside as he leaned back on the couch admiring her bra covered breasts, then grinned as she offered to take the bra off if he gave her something no other reporter could get, something big. It might of been the lack of sleep, it might of been the whisky he just drank, it was probably the two combined, but Cole's response was to grab his crotch and smiled at Belinda.

"I've got something big to give you, and I guarantee no other reporter has, or will ever get it."

He reach forward and took her hands in his before pulling her into his lap, one arm slipping around her slender waist, the other resting on her warm thigh just beneath the bottom of her gym shorts.

"The question is, do you want it?"
 
Devon and Jennifer in the parking garage:

"I'm sorry, I couldn't..." Devon apologized for cumming sooner than he'd wanted, sooner than he might have thought Jennifer would have wanted him to. "It just felt so good."

She looked down into his face and smiled. He looked so happy in orgasm, and that made Jennifer happy, as happy as if she herself had climaxed. She leaned in until her tender breasts pressed against his gray-haired chest; she could feel his heart pounding fiercely, and it made her giggle.

"You have no reason to be sorry," she purred to Devon, kissing him softly. She giggled again, saying with humor, "You may have forgotten ... but that's supposed to happen."

Jennifer took the old cop's face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his for a long, soft, yet erotic kiss. She smiled wide again and said, "But...! We aren't done yet."

She gently pulled back until Devon's cock popped out of her with a comical suction sound. She crawled off his laugh and turned around, not an easy thing to do in the SUV, despite it being one of the roomier ones on the market. Sitting in his lap again, her knees outside his, Jennifer reached down between her thighs, took hold of his cock, and worked it back inside her.

"God, you feel so good," she said with a growl as he slipped inside her. Jennifer reached for one of Devon's hands and pulled it to her pussy. She turned her head to put her lips close to his cheek, kissed him again, then instructed, "Little circles ... soft ... slow..."

She directed the man's fingers to her clit, then left him to finish her off.
 
Belinda and Marcus at her place

"I've got something big to give you," Marcus said, grasping his groin, adding, "and I guarantee no other reporter has, or will ever get it."

She laughed at his bravado, but before she could respond one way or another to his invitation, Marcus grasped Belinda and pulled her into his lap.

He asked, "The question is, do you want it?"

She did. There was no doubt about that. Belinda had known the first time she'd seen him that she wanted him to fuck her. But then, Belinda thought that about lots of men ... and women. She had an active sex life; rarely did a week pass that she didn't spend time naked with someone.

Despite her above average number of lovers, Belinda didn't consider herself a slut. She was very selective in choosing with whom she had sex. Some of her lovers were people she'd known for some time; some were repeats, lovers who'd pleased Belinda enough to deserve a second or third or tenth time between her sheets.

But as Marcus pulled her closer to him, Belinda wrestled her hands around until they were loose, then grasped one of his pinkies and bent it until he cried out; whether it was a cry of pain or cry of surprise, Belinda didn't know. It was a little move she'd learned in a self-defense class years earlier, one she'd actually used often when men got too handsy with her at parties or in bars.

"Behave!" she said, staring him the eyes with a raised eyebrow.

Belinda knew Marcus could get free from her if he wanted but he didn't try. She reached her other hand down to cup his balls and cock, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I want this ... definitely."

Then, squeezing them just a bit harder than Marcus probably would have preferred, Belinda said, "But I need a story ... a good story ... something no one else has or will find."

She lessened her grip on his balls and cock, then more gently and more erotically massaged them as she leaned in so close that she could have kissed him if she'd wanted. With a seductive tone, she purred, "Give me what I want ... and I'll give you what you want."
 
Kylie Parker at the Jackson Projects:

(OOC: Continues from this post, in which Emelia gives orders to Kylie, a dirty cop under her thumb.)

The Untouchable's attack on the Jackson Projects' Building 12 had begun at 11:30pm; it had ended by 11:45pm; and by midnight, Emelia D'Angelo had called Kylie Parker and told the corrupt Narcotics Detective what her investigation was going to uncover.

When she arrived in the Projects, Kylie found them alive with flashing red, white, and blue of every sort of First Responder. One of the uniformed police officers called out at the sight of her. ""Hey, Parker!" Whatcha doing here?"

"I was in the area," she lied. "Catch me up."

"12 dead, another 12 injured ... the EMTs said 2 are likely, 2 more critical," the cop told her. "Most were gunshot wounds, but there were shrapnel wounds also ... grenade maybe. But there's something else, too."

He waved over another Uniform, telling the man, "This is Detective Parker. Tell her what you told me."

"One of the dead gangbangers had a broken neck," the cop said. "Another one near him had a knife still in his chest. Not your typical gang-on-gang style of murder."

"It was the Colombians," Kylie said, propagating the story Emelia D'Angelo had told her to establish. She perpetuated the myth, "They're tired of the gangs undercutting their meth sales with the cheap shit they're cooking in the tunnels."

The two cops traded confused looks before one of them asked, "Do you know something we don't? Cuz we didn't--"

"Yes, I know a lot you don't know," Kylie stressed, adding, "That's my job, to know more than you do. And I'm going to need that knife."

The cops were hesitant, but one of them made his way to a CSI van, then back again to hand her the bagged knife. Kylie caught sight of the Scene Commander and hurried over to join him. She began spewing her story about the Colombians to him, too, throwing out feigned details from her sources.

"What about Building 9?" the Commander asked. "We heard someone found dead bodies up there ... GSWs. Gruesome stuff, they say ... like on the roof of 12."

"Not connected," she said firmly. When the Commander gave her a confused expression, she continued her lie, "I've got someone on it already. It's not connected."

They all talked about the case, with Kylie occasionally dropping hints about the Colombians.

The Chief of Detectives arrived, immediately confronting Kylie about taking the lead without authority. Kylie tried to argue that it was a Narcotics case, but the Chief shot her down. She threw her hands up in a surrender gesture, saying, "Just trying to help."

Kylie had done what Emelia had wanted, casting the Colombians as the main players. But her work wasn't done; Kylie had a second task. She inconspicuously made her way toward Building 9. Most of the residents and gangbangers were at the other building, so no one really paid her any attention.

Kylie rode the elevator to the top floor, then used the stairs to get to the roof. She tried the door, but something was obstructing it. She pushed and finally had enough room to squeeze through. The obstruction, she found, was a body ... and its head was practically missing, with bloody flesh and shattered bone hanging all about. It turned her stomach, but she maintained her composure.

She caught sight of the other bodies and was about to investigate them when she heard a soft whimper. Kylie called, "Police! Show me your hands!"

Nothing happened. Kylie moved to cover, calling again, "Show me your hands!"

Eventually, slowly, the rape victim slipped out of the shadows into the moonlight. She was clutching her seriously ripped dress to her front side, barely hiding her breasts and crotch. She was young, mid-teens. Kylie moved to her, holstering her weapon.

"I'm going to help you, sweetie," Kylie said. She wrapped her CCPD windbreaker around the girl and sat her down on a large horizontal ventilation duct. "Sit right here for a moment. I have to check the roof ... then ... I'm going to call for some help ... okay?"

Kylie told her as she moved away, "Stay right here ... wait for me ... I'll be right back."

As she went to check the other bodies and look for bodies -- dead or alive -- that she hadn't yet seen, Kylie pulled out her burner phone and pressed its one and only speed dial number.

A moment later, Emelia said in such a way that it would not identify either her or Kylie, should someone have her phone, "Update me."

"I did what you asked," Kylie said, also being vague. With a concerned tone, she said, "But we have a problem at the other location. I need an exfil ... one female, mid-teens ... raped. If you don't want these two things connected..."

She left it there, waiting for a response. It came quickly, with Emelia saying, "I have someone in the area. Ten minutes. Meet them on the curb."

The call went dead. Kylie shook her head, considering the Donna's efficiency. Organized Crime is so ... organized, she thought. She pocketed the phone, returned to the girl, and asked, "What's your name?"

"Naomi," the teen whispered.

"Naomi, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" they made their way down to the lobby with Kylie pulling Naomi's face into her chest to hide it. "Don't look, honey."

What she really meant was Don't let them see who you are. There were a few people. A gangbanger with a Glock in his belt eyed Kylie. She put her hand on her own weapon's butt. He backed toward the wall, letting her pass unmolested.

Outside, a dark SUV screeched up to the curb. Four men leapt out, three of them brandishing machine pistols as the fourth helped Naomi into the van. Kylie told him, "There are three bodies on the--"

"Taking care of it," the man in charge interrupted. He gestured Kylie into the van, saying, "You're coming, Detective Parker."

Kylie felt she should stay with the girl, so she leapt in without delay. Behind them, a van came to a quick stop and more D'Angelo Soldiers leapt out.

"What's going on?" Kylie asked as the driver shot the SUV away. "What're they doing?"

No answer was coming. Back at Building 9, the men in black ascended to the roof, bagged the bodies, and brought them down to the lobby again. By this point, a crowd had gathered. Suspicious residents were asking questions, and a pair of gangbangers confronted the white men taking away the bodies.

When the thugs lift their shirt fronts to flash their handguns, they suddenly found themself facing down a dozen machine pistols. The thugs backed off, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea did for Moses. The procession continued out to the awaiting van and yet two more dark SUVs that had arrived. Soon enough, the motorcade was gone.
 
Devon and Jennifer in the parking garage:

The most amazing thing that struck Devon as Jennifer's light touch directed his cock back inside her warm and now very wet pussy was that he was in fact still hard. At his age this was a minor miracle and spoke volumes about the young lady he was with. He hissed in pleasure as his cock re-entered the pussy it had just come out of and bottomed out as he felt her hips touch his thighs. He watched as she took his hand, guiding it between them, to her clit which was so nicely swollen right now.

"Little circles ... soft ... slow..." She whispered into his ear.

He nodded as he pushed up a little, making sure his entire cock was buried in the young woman atop him, then his fingers went to work. He was no slouch in the foreplay department, Stephanie having trained him well in how to pleasure her, much to their daughter Angela's constant embarrassment at having to listen to them most nights through the walls of her bedroom. He tried to bring his A-Game right now, to make Jennifer feel as good as he did.

With his spare hand he cupped the back of her neck and brought their lips together again. The kiss was long, but not hotly passionate, not yet at least. After working the edge off of their initial need to fuck, this time McCauley was hoping to make it last and just enjoy being with a beautiful woman again. His fingers slowly caressed Jen's clit, in the little, slow circles she had asked him for. His tongue slipped into her mouth to find hers waiting for him, they slipped over and around each other, soft moans from the kiss and the sex filling the SUV's passenger compartment
 
Belinda and Marcus at her place
Marcus actually yelped as Belinda bent his finger back, he hadn't expected that in his tired state, but as the pain shot through him he was suddenly very awake.

"Behave!" she said, staring him in the eyes with a raised eyebrow.

Then as she told him what she wanted before he got what he wanted her long fingers with the sharp fingernails dug into his cock and balls. Even through the denim of his jeans it hurt, making him sit up straighter as he sucked in air, his legs parting which only gave her more room. Oddly the pain, or perhaps the kinkiness of how she gripped his crotch made his cock harder still. Usually in sex he was always the one in charge, unless he was trying to make the lady feel good, and he loved making ladies feel good during sex as Camilla could attest to. He had never been in a situation where the lady was in charge, or dominant over him, and as his cock throbbed he suddenly wondered if Belinda, by pure chance, had revealed a secret sexual kink he had never been aware of. But then the grip lessened as she massaged his bulge and in a much more seductive voice said,

"Give me what I want ... and I'll give you what you want."

Marcus licked his lips as he felt her warm sweet breath on his face, her hand still fondling his hardon through the jeans, her nearly naked body sitting just before him. Fuck, she looks incredibly in those shorts, he thought as his eyes travelled down to her ass and legs ... and she knows it too. He smiled at Belinda, he liked this game. A woman not afraid to use what she had to get what she needed. In todays world that might be frowned upon by some of her sisters in the more 'Women strong, Women first!' movements who supposedly hated the male gaze. But the smart ones knew, if you had it, flaunt it and use it to your advantage. And Belinda had it in spades.

"Would it help if I told you that a certain Trevor Slattery was being held in building 12 of the Jackson Projects." He asked looking into her gorgeous eyes. "We got information that he was hiding out there. We were even putting a plan together to go get him before this all exploded in our faces. Why he was there and what happened to him I don't know. I imagine I will sometime tomorrow after the bodies have been counted and ID'ed. I can call you then and let you know. You can say a highly placed source in the Police Department has given you the information and if your line producer wants confirmation he can call me .... deal?"
 
Belinda and Marcus at her place

Belinda cocked her head at Marcus's reaction to her vise grip on his gonads; it almost looked like he was enjoying it. Maybe he's one of those, she thought to herself. Her relatively extensive list of past lovers had included a handful of people who enjoyed a personal level of pain during sex, and to be totally honest, she'd enjoyed dispensing it to them. Oh, she didn't consider herself a Dominatrix or anything like that. But you know, sometimes, spanking or some light whipping or just a bit of bondage could be fun.

"Would it help if I told you that a certain Trevor Slattery was being held in building 12 of the Jackson Projects," Marcus told her.

Belinda's eyes widened at the mentioning of the corrupt Narcotics Chief's name. He'd been caught taking part of the Pier 4 drug bust that had initially catapulted her from Channel 4's Weekend Weather Girl to its Investigative Journalist for Organized Crime. (Belinda had wanted the descriptor Senior at the front of her title, but the News Director had nixed that idea for two obvious points: first, Channel 4 didn't have any other Investigative Journalists for Organized Crime, so what made Belinda its senior reporter; and second, she'd only just risen from the task of pointing to clouds and tornados on a green screen a month earlier, so senior seemed just a bit pretentious.)

"You're saying that this was all about someone trying to rescue the Chief?" she asked. Then, something else occurred to her. She continued, "Or ... are you saying that someone was trying to get him ... to kill him?"

"We got information that he was hiding out there," Marcus continued about Slattery, being coy with the details. He talked about the Untouchables plan and how it wasn't put into effect, then claimed he didn't know why the Chief was in the JP in the first place.

"I imagine I will sometime tomorrow," he said, "after the bodies have been counted and ID'ed."

Her mind was racing with questions she wanted to ask. Before she did, though, Belinda again clamped her fingers around Marcus's balls, causing him to grimace and moan softly in a combination of pain, surprise, and maybe excitement?

"Did they get him?" she inquired, leaning in to put her breasts almost in his face even as she was manhandling his family jewels. "Is he dead? Did he escape?"

Marcus didn't have answers for her, but he did promise, "I can call you then and let you know."

"I'll be your first call," she insisted, leaning to one side to kiss his ear ... then bite his earlobe ... then sucked on it to ease the pain.

"You can say a highly placed source in the Police Department has given you the information," Marcus responded.

She leaned the other way, repeating the same kiss-bite-suck before pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Marcus finished, "And if your line producer wants confirmation, he can call me .... deal?"
Belinda eased the grip on his sack as she studied him for a long moment. Then, answering his question as she'd promised, she reached up between her breasts and unhooked the front latch of her bra. It sprung loose, releasing her tits. They had been often described as perfect; firm, B-cup mounds as round as navel orange halves, with pinkish-brown nipples that got hard and large at excitement or cold, of which both were present now.

She slid out of Marcus's lap, circled around the coffee table to once again face him, and smiled. Then, she leaned down to retrieve her tee shirt, donned it, and said, "You gave me what I wanted, I gave you what you wanted ... what I promised you."

Belinda smiled wide at the cop's reaction, telling him, "I have a story to write, and--" She looked to the clock on the wall, finding it was just a bit after 1am. "--if I get it put together by three, I might get it picked up by our National Bureau."

She nodded her head toward the still open bedroom door, and with an inviting tone said, "You're welcome to stay over ... sleep in my bed. I'll be back by eight ... maybe nine o'clock. If you're still here, we could..."

Belinda hesitated, smirked devilishly, then asked with a flirty tone, "You didn't bring your handcuffs with you ... did you, Detective?"
 
Devon and Jennifer in the parking garage:

Devon kissed Jennifer passionately as his fingers went to work on her swollen clit. Just as he'd proved with his mouth on her pussy earlier, he was good at this as well. He followed her instructions about using slow circles, and as the pleasure grew within her, she whispered, "Faster..." and a little bit later ... "Faster..." again.

Jennifer was writhing in her lover's hands, shifting her hips to and fro to take more and more of Devon's cock in and out of her until she feared that any more than that might pop him out, interrupting their pace. She'd reached one hand back to the back of Devon's neck and now reached the other back to his side, grasping and holding him close to her as her moans became soft cries. Eventually, she went quiet as she drew and held a deep breath ... then let the air gush from her lung in a loud, orgasmic gasp.

It was the greatest orgasm she'd experienced in a long time. She wasn't really thinking of it now, but later she would realize why this time was so much better than the others: she was in love. Jennifer hadn't been in love since her teens, and that hadn't been real, it had been hormones.

She collapsed back into Devon's arms, her heart pounding hard and fast as the euphoria continued to wash through her. She'd never been so happy, so content, as she was here in Devon's arms.
 
Belinda and Marcus at her place
Cole looked at her with confused eyes, mouth open like a shocked schoolboy as she dressed and moved away smiling and telling him she had a story to write. His cock throbbed almost painfully in his pants after she had again dug her fingernails into his balls. The tent on his jeans was so obvious the north face of mount Everest wouldn't even come close to the peak it was forming. But then he laughed and smiled and shrugged and nodded. She had indeed shown him what she had promised, her breasts, and he had to admit they were very much worth waiting for. His eyes had been stuck on them as she had exposed them like he had been hypnotised of something.

Now though he considered her words, sleep here, or head back to base. He did a quick tally of his physical condition. Tired, aroused, and he had had a double whiskey ... odds of getting back to the Hanson Building in piece? Low to average. He pushed himself out of the chair with a groan and kissed her cheek as he headed to her bedroom.

"I don't trust myself to make it back home in one piece, I am shattered, and besides you've given me fodder for some very nice dreams so I will take you up on your offer of the bed. I promise I don't snore." Of course how someone could make a statement like that when they would be asleep while they snored and so wouldn't know one way or the other was beside the point he figured. "Oh ... and yes, I did bring my handcuffs. Gun, badge and cuffs, a policeman never leaves homes without them. Have fun."

With that he pushed closed her bedroom door, enjoying the scent of Belinda filling the room, before re-enacting his earlier fall on a bed back at base.
 
Devon and Jennifer in the parking garage:

He could feel it starting inside her body, the small tremors, the increase in breathing, the little gasps and pants becoming bigger and more frequent, but he didn't lose his rhythm. He stayed focused even as he fucked her, even as she pushed back onto his hard cock, even as he felt, unbelievably, his second orgasm nearing. He thought he might last a little longer after the last one, and to be fair he had, but Jennifer just did something to his body, she knew all the buttons to press even it wasn't a conscious thing.

When it hit and her body went rigid as her breath stopped only to be released in that orgasmic gasp. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, then began to spasm, in effect milking his cock and it was more than he could handle. As Jennifer orgasmed, she trigged his own, the two of them clutching each other tight as both gave themselves over to their heightened orgasms. He felt his cock throbbing deep within her body, filling her a second time with his warm cum as that body seemed to beg for it, her pussy making sure it got every single drop.

As they both fell into each others arms, trying to regain their breathing, he could hear her heart pounding and he knew his was too. The smile on his face probably looked stupidly happy to anyone watching, but he couldn't help it. After so long being damaged and incomplete, he had found his partner again in Jennifer. Once more Devon McCauley was a whole person. His lips moved to her ear as he stroked her hair.

"I love you."
 
Devon and Jennifer in the parking garage:

As they came down from mutual orgasms, Devon whispered, "I love you."

Jennifer turned her eyes away from his, surprised by his declaration. She was happy to hear it, of course; she was in love with Devon and had hoped Devon was in love with her. But saying you love someone during sex...? Oh, that was a no no. She'd always been told so.

She turned her head back to her new lover to kiss him, then slid off his lap to sit against the driver's side; her bare legs laid over his thighs as she looked him in the face for a moment. With a soft, sincere tone, Jennifer said, "I'm not going to say I love you ... not now ... not like this." She studied him, then asked, "Understand?"

Jennifer couldn't know if Devon understood what her hesitation was. She could only hope she hadn't just destroyed him; the second woman to whom he'd ever spoken those words refused to speak them back...? Really? It could be crushing to most men. But Jennifer didn't think of Devon as most men. He was incredible, he was unique, and he was the man she loved.

She just couldn't say it.
 
Belinda and Marcus at her place

Marcus chose to stay the night due to his condition, then answered Belinda's other question, "Oh ... and yes, I did bring my handcuffs."

Belinda smiled devilishly, saying only, "Good."

She watched in silence as Marcus headed unsteadily to her bedroom, falling still fully dressed on the bed. Chuckling softly, Belinda followed him inside and undressed him; shoes, socks, pants, and shirt all came off, falling into a pile on the floor. He had removed his gun -- still in its holster -- and set it on the lamp table, but Belinda heard the cop's handcuffs hit the floor with his pants.

She removed them, studied them, then looked at Marcus, that devilish smirk returning. He looked incredible, fit and firm, and Belinda considered delaying her investigation and mauling him instead. But by now, Marcus's breathing told her that he was already asleep. She pulled the blankets from the other side of the bed over him, leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, and left the room.

In the other room, Belinda called Channel 4's News Director, outlining the story she wanted to present. She stressed, "The National Desk is going to want this, I promise. Make the calls."

She spent the next hour calling sources for more of what they'd picked up on the streets, as well as sources she was developing with CCPD, FDCC, other first responders, and hospital workers. Once she had what she could get from them, Belinda began calling high level members of CCPD and City Hall; she told them what she'd learned and asked them for comments. Most of these people didn't want to comment, and those who did requested anonymity; for those people who ignored her calls, Belinda sent text messages that tended to put them in a bad light, and amazingly, she began getting anxious call backs.

Just before 5am, a Channel 4 news van pulled up in front of her apartment building to take her to the scene. Belinda returned to her bedroom to check on her most important source. Marcus was still passed out, and contrary to what he'd promised, he did snore. She was tempted to use his handcuffs to secure him to her cast iron headboard. But just like her, Marcus had a job to do, and if she didn't get back before he woke on his own or someone began calling him anxiously, waking him that way, she knew he wouldn't take that well.

Instead, and just for fun, she cuffed just one of his wrists to the headboard, then set the key in plain sight and within easy reach on the lamp table. If he awoke before she returned, he could free himself; if he didn't, well, she'd consider a bit more bondage and, for having drank himself to sleep, a touch of punishment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
​
An hour later, with the News Director having secured the right connections, Belinda was on the air live outside Building 12 in the Jackson Projects. The neighborhood was still infested with police and other first responders. She recapped the night live, before they went to her recorded report. When they came back to her live, the talking head in the studio said, "And Belinda, you've heard that there may have been a purpose behind this attack not related to methamphetamine production or a fight over drug distribution territory."

"Yes, Robert," she began. "High placed sources within CCPD with first-hand knowledge of the incident -- who spoke on condition of anonymity -- told me that this attack may not have had any connection to meth production or distribution, but instead may have involved an attempt by persons unknown to locate and take custody of fugitive Narcotics Chief Trevor Slattery, who our viewers may recall was arrested at the Pier 4 drug interdiction effort last week by the Governor's Task Force on Organized Crime -- also known as the Untouchables and led by CCPD Detective Marcus Cole.

"After being detained at the Capital City Justice Building," she continued, as old footage played of Slattery being taken into the building in cuff. She continued, "he escaped in a deadly jail break that took the lives of two CCPD officers and a civilian desk clerk."

"Belinda, do authorities known for a fact that Trevor Slattery was in fact in the building?" the talking head continued, "And if so, do they know whether or not he is still in the building?"

"My sources tell me that Chief Slattery is not in the building behind me at this time," she continued, "but they do assure me that he was in fact hiding here, possibly -- likely, they say -- under the protection of members of the D'Amato Crime Family."

The news anchor asked, "It was reported earlier in the week that Chief Slattery was allegedly working with members of the D'Angelo Crime Family. Can you tell us, Belinda, why an allegedly corrupt CCPD Chief working for the D'Angelo Family -- again, allegedly -- why if he was in the pay of that Family ... that he would have been broken out of jail and then protected by members of a competing Family?"

Belinda spent another minute or more recounting information she'd gotten from her sources, essentially explaining how Slattery might have been of intelligence value to the D'Amatos. When the anchor thanked her for her reporting, Belinda smiled wide and said with pride, "Reporting from the scene of the Jackson Projects' shootout, I'm Belinda Carmichael, Channel 4 News."
 
Devon was laying in his bed now. The hours was very late, or very early he supposed, but he just couldn't fall asleep. What had happened with Jennifer earlier kept revolving in his mind, the sex and what had been said. The fact she couldn't say she loved him he had understood and he had given her a soft smile and nod before hugging her and the two of them dressing and going their own ways. He had checked the CCTV when leaving the back of the car and red indicator lights were still off meaning no one was watching them. Then had been good, he would of hated to have to hurt Mephisto.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his mind float and roam. Things, he supposed, were different for him than they were for Jen. She was still young, she was probably guarding herself by not stating her affection for him, a much older man, and he totally understood. For him of course it was different. After 55 years on this planet he had way more life experience than Kennedy, had been married, had a child and was more in touch with his emotions. He knew he loved Jennifer, he could feel it throughout his body. He felt the almost electric energy between them when they stood in the same room. Their love making earlier had rocked his world, but he hadn't said those three little words at that time simply because of the great sex, they had been boiling up inside him for days and they just came out then because he needed her to know how much he cared about her.

But he could wait, he had waited all these years since Steph had died, he could wait a little longer till she was ready. It was important Jennifer felt it was the right time because when she did it would come from her heart. Feeling better now he smiled as finally he slipped away into sleep.
 
Marcus slept deep and long, his dreams a mix of horrific fantasy of what could of gone wrong with the attack on the Projects. He saw Ketch shot down, Teddy blown apart by a grenade, one by one his people fell until he stood alone over their bodies wondering why he was still alive. But then they drifted, as dreams do, and his body relaxed as he found himself naked in the swimming pool at Elmhurst, watching the beautiful grounds under a blue sky, the sun warm on his face and arms, the water cool, but not cold. He heard the click of high heels on the stone behind him and turned around to see who it was, knowing it would be Emelia, but his hand wouldn't move. He looked down at it yanking on it until he realised it was handcuffed to ... a bed post?!

His eyes flickered open, squinting, his mind slowly catching up as wakefulness descended on his foggy brain and the dream vanished. He licked his lips and looked around. Where was he, and why was his hand chained to the bed? Then the penny dropped. He was still at Belinda's, he had decided to sleep here rather than heading home or to the Hanson Building HQ. A flash of a headache made him moan softly as the drink and the action of last night decided to all come at once with their bills. He also needed the toilet, bad. Looking around and hoping Belinda had left a key otherwise she would be needing to wash her bedding, Cole saw the tiny thing sitting on the night stand and quickly uncuffed himself and slipped from the bed to dash to the bathroom.

Emergency averted he finished his morning constitutional and decided to use Belinda's shower. He didn't have clean clothes, but he needed a wake up shower and his body wanted to feel at least partially clean. He felt sure she wouldn't mind as he stripped and stepped under the shower head and let the warm water wash his ache away. Twenty minutes later, hair still wet, Marcus went back to his clothes and sighed looking at the dirty bundle on the floor. Hoping against hope that perhaps some guy might of left clothing at the reporters apartment, Cole rummaged through drawers, getting an in-depth knowledge of Belinda's lingerie style before finally finding a couple of pairs of Calvin Klein briefs. Well, at least they were clean, and they fit, just, a bit snug and then he headed to the kitchen, finding the coffee and making himself a big mug of the stuff as he checked his phone. No messages, no emergencies, everything seemed quiet, which was a relief. As he sat and considered what to do next his belly grumbled and he realised he hadn't really had anything to eat for many hours, only the few bites of egg that Belinda had made him last night.

He wasn't a good cook, but if a man living alone couldn't manage his own breakfast it was a sorry state of affairs. He explored the kitchen, the fridge, the cupboards and finally decided on French toast, sausage and egg. He hummed, letting his mind relax a little as he moved around Belinda's kitchen dressed only in the tight undies, bare feet padding on the cold tiles of the floor, the smell at least was amazing he decided not even looking at the time.
 
Belinda Carmichael and Marcus Cole
The morning after Jackson Projects:

There wasn't hardly a soul in Capitol City who wasn't talking about the previous night's activities. The local news stations and even a few of the nationals were pulling out all the stops to be the first to get the details on the air. Most of them interrupted their regularly scheduled morning programming anytime they picked up another juicy tidbit to share with their viewers.

Of course, Channel 4 was far ahead of the others, with many viewers of other stations switching to them. This, of course, was because of their new bright star, Belinda Carmichael. As the Weekend Weather Girl, many of her viewers had only paid her attention because she'd dressed her delicious figure in body-hugging clothes. Now, in addition to something to show her viewers, she had something to tell them as well.

Belinda was only leading the pack of much more experienced reporters because of her two very special sources: Detective Marcus Cole of the Governor's Task Force on Organized Crime; and Assistant District Attorney Laura Shovelli, who was not only an inside source but also Belinda's latest lover.

Of course, the title of latest lover had nearly been stolen away just hours earlier by Marcus. Thinking about how she'd left him in her bed in his underwear and cuffed to the headboard made Belinda's lips spread in delight. Her cameraman asked what she was so happy about, thinking it must have been about this morning's news coverage. Belinda nearly told him about the Detective chained to her bed but decided to keep that to herself.

"Run it back to where I asked the question about Slattery," Belinda told her cameraman, waggling a finger at the monitor before them. They were sitting in one of the Station's location vans while it was parked on the curb in front of City Hall. The Cameraman did as he was told, and when Laura's face filled the screen, she called out, "Stop! Right there."

Belinda was asking Laura questions about the raid on Building 12, challenging her lover when she hesitated to answer sensitive inquiries. Laura was dead set on not speaking about the rumor -- provided by Marcus, of course -- that Chief Slattery might have been the target of the raid, as opposed to the meth labs located in the building's basement.

"Well placed CCPD officers," Belinda said, speaking of Detective Cole without naming him, "have stated that Chief Slattery was in fact--"

"Using the phrase in fact is a bit of a stretch, Miss Carmichael," Laura interrupted, sounding firm while suppressing the desire to smile; the two had discussed the questions Belinda was going to ask before the camera came on, such that they would both look good to the audience. "From the information the Scene Commander has given me, there is no evidence that Chief Slattery was in the vicinity, let alone a target of the attack."

"Detective Kylie Parker of the CCPD's Narcotics Division," Belinda continued, dropping a name in the hopes of providing foundation to her inquiry, "says that the attack was orchestrated by members of the Martinez Cartel, a Colombia based drug organization that has been increasing its stake in Capital City over the last couple of years."

Belinda reached out to hit the stop button, telling her cameraman, "This is where I want you to insert the interview with Parker."

She hit play again and watched Laura respond, "I can neither confirm nor deny that because, as I said earlier, it is not information that's been provided to me by the Scene Commander."

Belinda again reached out to stop the recording. She gave her cameraman more direction on how to edit the film, then checked the time on her watch. "Fuck! Six minutes to air. Get it down. I'll handle the camera outside."

"Wait, you can't--" her cameraman began to object.

But Belinda cut him off, "Edit the tape! I'll handle the live stuff."

She hopped out of the van, taking the tripod and camera with her. She'd only recently learned how to set the unit up, but do so in record time she did now. She ensured that the microwave transmitter was connected just in time to hear in her earpiece the morning news anchor say, "We take you to City Hall where Senior Organized Crime Correspondent Belinda Carmichael stands by with an update ... Belinda...?"

She launched into her live broadcast, stretching it out a few extra seconds until her cameraman signaled from the van that he was ready. The prerecorded footage took over, long enough for Belinda to flip open her phone and scan her list of missed calls and texts. There were more than two dozen of them, some repeats from the same sources, but the one number that was missing was Marcus Cole's.

Again, she smiled devilishly, wondering about his status. She imagined that he'd awoken and not found the key to the cuffs or possibly knocked it out of his reach on accident. Belinda had intentionally moved his cell phone across the room to her bureau so that -- should he find himself irreversibly cuffed -- he couldn't call for help.

Once again, the studio came back to Belinda. She finished her report and -- as the news anchor had for the first time -- used her new title to sign off: "We'll keep you updated with the latest developments as they are uncovered. I'm Belinda Carmichael, Senior Organized Crime Correspondent, Channel 4. Back to you in the studio."

A moment later her cameraman turned to look at her and laughed with great joy. She asked simply, "What?"

"National picked it up, girl!" he said with excitement. "You went out live! Over 8 million people just saw that! That's almost three times what Good Fucking Morning America gets each morning!"

Belinda couldn't help but be overjoyed, of course. And yet she couldn't think about that right now. She had someplace to be. She told her cameraman, "Get the van back to the station."

"You're not coming?" he asked with surprise. "There gonna be waiting to pat you on the back." He chuckled, then corrected himself, "All 'cept for that redhead on the Morning Show who thought she could be covering this. She's more likely to put a knife in your back than a pat upon it."

"I'll get an Uber," she told him.

Belinda turned over her equipment to him, flagged down a taxicab instead, and headed for home. She entered the house to the smell of breakfast, initially thinking that maybe it was just the leftover scent from when she made it for Marcus ten hours earlier. But nope, there he was, standing in the kitchen -- in a pair of boxers she recognized as belonging to a frequent visitor to her bed -- as he cooked a meal she thought looked even better than that which she'd prepared.

"I see you found the key just fine," she teased as she stepped out of her heels and crossed toward her bedroom to set a plastic shopping bag on a lamp table. As she crossed to Marcus, Belinga looked to the television, finding it not on as she'd expected. She puffed out her lower lip in a pout, saying, "You missed my report. I mentioned you ... told them it was the Untouchables."

She gave him a moment to react, then confessed, "Kidding!" She moved up close to him, telling him with a sincere tone, "I wouldn't do that. We have an agreement."

She snatched his piece of toast and turned away, munching on it as she headed for the bedroom. "I need to shower again. That city out there ... it seems to be getting filthier every day."

Belinda was already stripping off her clothes, and by the time she reached the bedroom door, she was naked. She stopped to look back over her shoulder, smirking as she said, "Finish your breakfast. There's no hurry. I actually prefer to shower alone."

She reached over to snatch up the bag she'd deposited earlier, then looked Marcus up and down and added, "But I have something I think you might be interested in after I get out. I could be wrong ... but ... I'm willing to bet I'm not."

She disappeared into her bedroom and emptied the contents of the bag onto the bed before heading for the shower. When she emerged again with a towel wrapped around her otherwise naked form -- the second time Marcus had seen her this way -- Belinda looked to the items she'd picked up at the 24 hour Adults Only shop, looked to Marcus, and asked, "Anything there of interest to you?"
 
10am, at Jennifer Kennedy's Apartment:

Jennifer was still exhausted when the knock came at her apartment door. Shortly after arriving home -- after the most incredible sex in her life with fellow Untouchable, Devon McCauley -- she'd sent Marcus Cole a text message saying she wouldn't be in until noon unless he wanted her there sooner. Then, she'd turned her phone off, meaning that even if he did call or text, she wouldn't receive it. She knew that was insubordination, but fuck, the night they'd had deserved a few hours off, didn't it?

The knock at the door, she assumed, was Marcus or one of her other team members here to get her for debrief or some other purpose. She almost didn't even respond, until it occurred to Jennifer that it might be Devon. She hopped up, checked her face and hair -- both were a mess, and yet somehow she still looked beautiful -- then slipped into an oversized tee shirt and padded barefoot through the house.

She opened the door without checking the peephole and was surprised -- and a bit disappointed -- to find Philip Russo standing there instead. He looked her up and down conspicuously, then said with a flirty smile, "Aren't we looking fetching this morning, Miss Kennedy."

Jennifer couldn't help but smile at the compliment. Emelia's bodyguard was an exceptionally good-looking man, and she would have been a liar to say that she hadn't wondered what he looked like naked and what his cock felt like pushing its way in and out of her pussy. She still wanted to know the first, but after the night she'd had with Devon, the latter was unlikely to happen any time soon, so she tried (unsuccessfully) to push that thought out of her mind.

"It's early, Philip," Jennifer said, trying to sound polite while simultaneously simply wanting to go back to bed.

"Miss D'Angelo invites you to Elmhurst for brunch, Miss Kennedy," Philip said in an inviting tone.

Forgetting for a moment the purpose for last night's raid on Building 12 in the Jackson Projects, Jennifer asked simply, "Why?"

Philip raised an eyebrow in a knowing expression, saying nothing. When Jennifer's face suddenly lit up with understanding, he said, "I have a car waiting downstairs. There is no hurry. Take your time to--"

"Bullshit!" Jennifer cut him off, reaching out to grasp the man's hand and pull him into her apartment. Jennifer flung the door shut and headed hurriedly for her bedroom, stripping off the big tee as she went and telling him, "I'm ready now. Just let me put on some clothes."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
​
Now dressed casually in jeans and a tee shirt -- this outfit more complimentary to her figure -- as well as her favorite leather coat, Jennifer sat in the back seat of one of the D'Angelo Family's armored sedans as it navigated Capital City's downtown, then its suburbs, to eventually reach Emelia's home just before 11am. She hadn't said a word the entire trip, instead simply shifting her gaze from the back of Philip's head to the view; the city changed so much between her low-income neighborhood and Emelia's Richy Rich community.

When they pulled through the gates of Elmurst, Jennifer recalled the first time she'd been here. It had been one of them most emotional days of her life, meeting Emelia's father and learning of his regret for having injured her father so many years earlier with a gunshot to the hip; Enzo had followed Jennifer's upbringing and had even helped her family financially -- and anonymously -- on those occasions when her father's paycheck simply didn't go far enough.

Philip led Jennifer to the door, which opened to reveal the Donna, happily smiling to see her guest. Emelia reached a hand out in invitation -- her left, not her right; a friendly gesture, not a handshake -- and grasping Jennifer's own hand, led her inside with eagerness.

"I have someone here who wants to talk to you," the current leader of the D'Angelo Family said. "Come, we're sitting on the back patio, having coffee ... or tea, if you prefer."

Jennifer had assumed that she was here to confront Chief Slattery, that he was the person who, as Emelia had put it, wanted to talk to her. Instead, she found Zhang Yuqi sitting back in a chaise lounge chair near the pool, sipping coffee and eating a pastry. Kitty perked up at the sight of her Untouchables partner.

"Hey, Bitch! What took you so long?" she hollered out. She cocked her head, then -- knowing that Emelia already understood Jennifer's infatuation with the eldest of the Untouchables -- correctly though without her facts straight, accused, "I bet you've been in bed fucking the Gray Haired Fox, haven't you?"

Jennifer's face exploded in a fiery blush, which she tried to hide from their hostess without success. When she reached her partner in crime-prevention, Jennifer stole the woman's pastry and began eating it as she plopped down into a deck chair, saying, "No, I haven't been in bed with Devon."

Then, looking between the two women, with whom she'd had a slumber party a few days earlier, she smiled devilishly and corrected, "We did it in one of the SUVs in the parking garage at work."

Emelia smiled wide, happy for the girl's obvious happiness at the advancement of her sex/love life, but Kitty burst out in delighted laughter, asking, "How was it? Did the old man still have it in him to get you off?"

"Kitty!" Jennifer chastised.

But the other woman interrupted, saying, "Old men, you just never know with them. I remember this one time I went home with a couple of my strip club patrons ... old fuckers, like 80!"

"Shut up!" Jennifer cut her off, laughing, yet still telling her, "I don't think we're here for stories of your parted thighs and Viagra days."

Jennifer looked to Emelia expectantly, but before they got to business, the hostess instructed both women, "Eat, drink ... we are in no hurry. Our ... guest is patiently awaiting us. He's going no where."

So, he IS here, Jennifer thought about the fugitive Narcotics Chief. She was eager to face him, but she was also starving and badly in need of caffeine. She dug into the spread, which was as lavish as always, then looked to Kitty and asked, "So, what happened last night after you went off with those two cops in your panties and bra.

Emelia laughed at that, looking to Kitty and accusing, "You didn't tell me this story, Yuqi."

Kitty laughed as well, beginning, "Okay, so, it all started with..."

(OOC: I'm going to post about Slattery, but I need to go eat and do a chore. Back soon.)
 
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Belinda Carmichael and Marcus Cole
The morning after Jackson Projects:
"I see you found the key just fine," Belinda teased as she stepped out of her heels and crossed toward her bedroom to set a plastic shopping bag on a lamp table. As she crossed to Marcus, Belinga looked to the television, finding it not on as she'd expected. She puffed out her lower lip in a pout, saying, "You missed my report. I mentioned you ... told them it was the Untouchables."

Cole froze for a moment in the middle of scrambling the eggs giving her a cold stare. Would she do such a thing? He hadn't thought she would be so self destructive, but then he saw a slight curl to her lip and relaxed as he realised she was just pulling his chain.

"Kidding!" She moved up close to him, telling him with a sincere tone, "I wouldn't do that. We have an agreement."

"You better be." He laughed as he reached out to smack her ass but mossed as she headed off to the bedroom to take her shower. He watched as she undressed, each piece of bare skin arousing him more and more before she killed any hopes of joining her.

She reached over to snatch up the bag she'd deposited earlier, then looked Marcus up and down and added, "But I have something I think you might be interested in after I get out. I could be wrong ... but ... I'm willing to bet I'm not."

She emptied the bag on the bed as Cole followed her curious what she had bought. As she vanished into the bathroom and he heard the shower turn on his eyes widened at what lay before him. He leaned over the bed pushing the item around, picking up one or two and inspecting them. He glanced at the closed bathroom door and wondered was Belinda this kinky with everyone, or had she picked up a vibe from him. he turned his gaze back to the bed. On it lay a black leather riding crop, a black flogger with nine lengths of thin leather erupting from the solid handle also four sets of handcuffs, he assumed one for each bed post. A ball gag, a blindfold, a candle for some reason, and a .... a strapon with what looked like a 6" dildo attachment. A rather large bottle of lube followed. He licked his lips and realised his cock was hard. Good God, had he always wanted this and just never knew? Or was he just sexually curious and waiting for a woman to push those buttons for him. Just her fingernails digging into him the night before had got his attention, and arousal. He was still standing there looking over the gathered sex toys when she reappeared in a towel.

"Anything there of interest to you?" Belinda asked.

If the tent in the tight briefs hadn't given him away already he shrugged and smiled and actually looked a little shy for a moment.

"Well .... it's all new to me, but I never one to say no to a challenge."
 
The Greshenko Bratva:
The black town car pulled silently up to the curb as a black with gold trim uniformed doorman rushed forward to open the rear door. From within stepped Dimitri Alexenov Greshenko. He paused to look up and down the street, then up at the bar, come restaurant before him. The street was clean with few other cars parked up, most belonging to Greskenko men on guard duty. A few clubs had properties on the street, all paying rent to Dimitri and other than that it was high rent town houses the owners of which, as with the clubs, paid the Russian. He owned this and the four other blocks surrounding his HQ, The House of Romanov. The restaurant itself was subtly decorated in front with dark wood, hanging greenery above the door and windows which were not over large, but were bullet resistant and currently allowed warm yellow light to spill onto the street. Two large wooden doors were set into an alcove in front with the name of the place in gold lettering over it which was guarded by two uniformed doormen who had pistols secreted in those uniforms but otherwise they looked like the ones you might find at high end hotels.

"Good morning, Mr. Greshenko." The young man who had opened the car said respectfully.

"And to you Anatoly, how is your young boy?" The leader of the east coast Bratva asked not looking at the doorman, but using a friendly tone of voice as he straightened his dark grey suit jacket.

"Very well, Sir, thank you for asking."

Dimitri nodded in acknowledgement then walked up the two steps to the main door which was opened by the second doorman who also greeted him. Greshenko was 48 years of age, and looked good. He worked out each day for two hours and swam three or four times a week. His body wasn't overly muscled, but it was toned and solid. Even his features belied his true age, however his hair had refused to cooperate and what was once solid black was now mostly silver with black specks. Out of pride he refused to dye it despite his wife's suggestion that he should. Tonight other than the dark grey suit he wore a black silk shirt with the top three buttons undone and very expensive black shoes.

As he stepped inside he took a moment to look around. The place was buzzing, as it usually was. The bar area was full of important looking people, some cops, some politicians, some lawyers and others simply the rich upper crust of the city, all mingling under his roof. The restaurant off to the right which took up half the ground floor was also full and reservation only. Everything looked in order and as he walked toward a set of stairs leading up to the other floors, guarded by a suited and booted Bratva soldier, his 2nd, Mikhail approached with his ever present black leather folder under one arm. Dimitri smiled to himself, he couldn't recall a time lately that the man hadn't had the damn thing snuggle under his left arm and ready to review at a moments notice.

"Good morning, Pakhan." Mikhail greeted his boss with a smile, Pakhan meaning 'Chief' in Russian.

"Mikhail, everything in order?" The Bratva boss waved for Mikhail to join him upstairs.

"Yes, Sir, all in order."

The younger man waited till they were out of earshot of any of the cliental before continuing. As the two men got to the 1st floor they turned down a narrow passage and into a large office with windows over looking the street below and a large mahogany desk set before them. A comfortable black leather office chair was set behind the desk and Dimitri dropped into it as he waited for Mikhail to continue. The office was expensively decorated with art, large soft carpet and rugs on the floor, a small bar in one corner and on the desk two family pictures of Dimitri and his wife and kids. On the two floors above were the brothel on the 2nd floor and the casino on the 3rd. Only those known to, or recommended to, the Bratva could venture onto those two floors.

"You heard of the attack on the Jackson Projects last night?" Mikhail asked taking a seat before the desk and opening his folder, scanning the papers within.

"Yes, I assume none of our people were involved?"

"No, Sir, none of our people were present and it in no ways effects our business."

"Mikhail, how many times have I told you to call me Dimitri when we are alone?" The older man asked holding his hands out in supplication.

"Many, many times, Sir." The younger man said with a smile.

The two men had known each other for roughly twelve years now, both meeting back in Russia. At the time Dimitri was an up and comer in the Bratva in Moscow and was being trained to take over an operation of his own at some time. Mikhail had been assigned to him as a bodyguard and in that roll had saved his bosses life. One snowy night outside a Moscow nightclub as Dimitri and his wife had been exiting, a car suddenly screeched to a halt and gunfire erupted. Pushing the Greshenko's to the ground, Mikhail had returned fire until a grenade had landed close by. Without thinking Mikhail had grabbed it and thrown it back toward the attackers. Unfortunately it had gone off two seconds after leaving his hand, sending shards of shrapnel into his face and upper body. He had spent a month in hospital having the shards removed and plastic surgery done to repair his face. He still bore the scars on his chest and shoulders though. As a reward, once he had been sent to America to take over the Capitol City operation, Dimitri had sent for Mikhail and promoted him to his chief Lieutenant, answerable only to himself. In this roll the young man had found a natural ability for paperwork, which had surprised both Russians. Now Mikhail made sure everything run smoothly and Dimitri's orders were carried out to the letter.

"Something is changing, Mikhail." Dimitri said solemnly getting back to business. "There is something in the air."

"This new Task Force of the Governors?" The Lieutenant asked.

"Perhaps, but we have weathered other such crusading politicians before her. No, something else, something I am as of yet not sure about."

Mikhail nodded, he had learned to respect his bosses hunches and feelings. The man seemed to have a sixth sense for such things. He looked down at his paperwork.

"Well, nothing seems amiss with our current deals and projects. Everyone is paying up on time, the last weapons supply to the Columbian's went off without a hitch, in fact they have placed another already."

Dimitri grunted out a short laugh. "The idiots think firepower can replace brain power. I suspect they will soon learn that lesson to their detriment."

"We have a shipment of girls coming in from the Ukraine in a few days, a dozen I believe, aged 14 to 18." The man said the ages as if they meant nothing to him, and they didn't. To Mikhail they were statistics. Numbers on a page that led to profits. The fact the girls were underage and probably stolen from families back home meant not a thing to him. I was simply business.

"Didn't you say the Yakuza were expecting one too shortly?"

Mikhail nodded and looked up. "Yes, but our contact has no information on when. Did you wish to hit them when it gets here?"

Dmitri shook his head. "No, let the sleeping dragon lie, for now. No point angering them over such a small thing." He sat up straighter, placing his hands before him on the desk. "Let us move onto other matters."
 
Belinda Carmichael and Marcus Cole:

"Anything there of interest to you?" Belinda asked Marcus about the sex toys and other items spread out upon her bed.

She let her gaze drop to his groin. Marcus's cock was conspicuously tenting the front of the boxers he'd borrowed from Belinda's abandoned clothes of past lovers drawer. She smiled, knowing even before she saw it that his cock was going to be wonderful.

About the items she'd brought home specifically for them, he said, "Well .... it's all new to me, but I was never one to say no to a challenge."

"Well, some of them are new to me, too," Belinda responded, adding, "But it won't hurt to try them ... or, at least ... it won't hurt me"

She smiled wider, chuckling softly. Nodding to the bed, she said, "Why don't we start with you just laying down ... on your back, in the middle."

Belinda selected a pair of the newly purchased shackles, and -- with the skill of a cop arresting a perp' -- snapped one of the bracelets around Marcus's nearest wrist.

"Good?" she asked, wanting to ensure that he was fully consenting with what lay ahead. When he acknowledged that all was well, she attached the other end of the cuffs -- they had a 10-inch chain between the bracelets -- to one the nearest vertical brass bars of the headboard. She hinted at his imminent future, "One down ... three to go."

She took her time walking around the end of the bed, her gaze moving from Marcus's face to his tented boxers and back. On the other side of the bed, she repeated the securing of the second wrist, smiling and saying, "Two."

Backtracking to the end of the bed, still smiling devilishly, Belinda repeated her work with the Detective's ankles, leaving his legs spread eagle across the lower half of the mattress.

Belinda had done all of this while still wearing only the thick, soft, cotton towel around her otherwise naked body. She turned away and headed for the bathroom, telling Marcus over her shoulder, "There was something else in the bag I want to show you. Gimme a minute or two."

The minute or two Belinda asked for turned into five, then ten, then almost fifteen before she reappeared, asking, "So, what do you think about this?"

She smiled and turned this way and that, then all the way around to give Marcus a viewing of how the backside of the Dominatrix costume fit across her firm ass cheeks. Turning back to face Marcus, she asked with humor, "Do you have any idea how much one of these is?" She neared him again, continuing, "That's why I wanted you shackled first. I didn't want you getting excited and stripping it off of me before I got my money's worth."

Belinda went to her bureau, opened a drawer, closed it, and turned; she was carrying a pair of scissors as she returned to the bed and moved up onto it on her hands and knees. "Let's see about getting these boxers off of you, shall we?"

Playfully, Belinda began caressing the flat side of the scissors across the flesh of Marcus's thighs as she stared into his eyes. Then, with her free hand, she reached to his groin and began caressing and gently squeezing his once-again-rock hard cock and their accompanying balls.

"Now, you make sure you hold still while I do this, hear?" she said with a flirty tone as she began moving the scissors to cut up the boxers while her other hand lifted the cloth from his thigh. "I would hate to cut off something that you might want to stay just where it is."

Belinda began closing the scissors on the fabric; despite making it appear as if she was awfully close to his family jewels as the blades met, she was actually being very careful, using her free hand inside the boxers to create a gap between Marcus's most treasured organ and the shears.

At one point, as she was closing the scissors, she grasped the man's balls tightly and squeezed, enough to get his attention and make him wonder about her precision maybe, but certainly not enough to harm him at all.

"Oops!" she said playfully, separating the cloth to look at his personals. Drawing and releasing a feigned breath of relief, she giggled and said, "Whew, they're okay."

The shears made their final cut through the waist band and the second leg, and tossing them to the floor, Belinda pulled the boxers away from Marcus's front side to reveal him. "See...? No harm done ... yet."

She reached to the end of the mattress, retrieved some more of her purchases, and suggested, "We should have a safe word, shouldn't we?" But then dangling the ball gag before her, Belinda asked, "But ... how does a safe word work if you have this in your mouth?"

She moved up the bed, asking him as she did, "What if -- should you not like something I'm doing, or if what I'm doing hurts -- what if you just screamed into this as loud as you could?"

Belinda had used a ball gag once before, years earlier when she'd wanted a certain Intern position at Channel 4 and the man who could make it happen had indicated his sexual tendencies, which of course were Sub in nature. She put it in place on Marcus, then asked, "Okay?"

She moved down between the Detective's legs, lifted the bottle of lube and the dildo portion of the not-yet-assembled strap-on, and asked, "Nod if you want ... shake if you don't ... and then, maybe, I'll care about which answer you gave me--" And then for fun, she finished with, "--you bad, bad boy."
 
Belinda Carmichael and Marcus Cole:
Marcus lay still as she shackled him to her bed, he watched her closely every second. He did this for a number of reasons, one she was so sexy it was hard to take his eyes off her, even when she was just in a towel. Second, this was new to him, he had never dived into the whole BDSM play thing and he was as curious about this as perhaps Belinda was? Though the way she moved and the way she quickly and efficiently locked the shackles made him think she had perhaps done this before. He licked his lips as the last shackle was closed and secured, now he was helpless, for the first time in his life. It was odd and he tried to diagnose his feelings about it and found that he hated it, but, and this was a big but, for sexual play he was incredibly turned on by it. He looked down his body, seeing his cock achingly tenting his boxers.

When she wandered off to the bathroom for whatever it was she was retrieving from the bag, he tested the shackles, pulling on them lightly, then harder. He was going nowhere fast he decided and stopped playing not wanting to damage Belinda's bed. As the minutes ticked by he considered calling out to her, but then decided no, it wasn't as if she could forget he was here and other than a few muffled rustling sounds he had heard nothing from the bathroom to make him think she was in trouble. Then she reappeared in the doorway and his mind blew.

"So, what do you think about this?" Belinda asked, slowly turning so Cole could take in every inch of the Dominatrix attire she was wearing.

He had always prescribed to the theory that sometimes less is more. That sometimes a woman can look sexier dressed than she does naked. Standing before him was that proof. The PVC or rubber, he wasn't sure which, material gleamed in the bedroom light. The corset tied tight in front with the seven buckles held her breasts perfectly, lifting them a little to show amazing cleavage. He could see a zipper though that ran from between her breasts down to below her crotch. On her slim toned legs were thigh high stiletto boots, held to the corset with what looked like black leather straps. His mouth was dry as she turned to show her rear, the PVC clinging to her firm ass like a second skin, in fact the whole thing looked melded to her body it was so tight.

"Do you have any idea how much one of these is?" Belinda asked. Marcus shook his head, unable to form words. "That's why I wanted you shackled first. I didn't want you getting excited and stripping it off of me before I got my money's worth." She stated, probably seeing his reaction to her in the outfit.

When the scissors came out he tensed a little and again licked dry lips, but then if he had been thinking logically it was obvious what they were for. As he was shackled she couldn't just pull them off him. Still he found himself tensing and relaxing as she stroked the cold metal on his thighs. Her hand on his balls and cock made him moan softly, she would feel the throb of his cock under her skilful hand he knew, there was no way he could hide what effect this was having on him.

She teased him as the scissors got close to his family jewels and he would be a liar if he said he wasn't nervous. He trusted her, he really did, but no man would be comfortable with a sharp instrument that close to his cock. Finally the remains of the boxers were pulled free leaving him naked before her, his entire body and his hard throbbing cock that already had a shiny head from pre-cum, pulsed up and down to his heart beat he was so excited. Then she pulled a ball gag from somewhere and his lips curled into a smile, his eyes flashing. Was this to stop the sounds of his pleasure annoying the neighbours, or the sounds of his screams he wondered.

"What if -- should you not like something I'm doing, or if what I'm doing hurts -- what if you just screamed into this as loud as you could?" Belinda suggested to which Marcus simply nodded.

She put it in place, asking if it was ok, he nodded, the ball sitting perfectly, not to deep in his mouth, not to far out it would fall, and not causing any jaw ache from being to tight, not yet at least. Finally she pulled a dildo and a bottle of lube from beneath the bed. He felt his asshole flex, knowing exactly where that would be going.

"Nod if you want ... shake if you don't ... and then, maybe, I'll care about which answer you gave me--" Belinda said and then for fun, she finished with, "--you bad, bad boy."

Marcus wriggled on the bed, not from fear of the dildo, but from excitement. His entire body seemed on fire with curiosity and very, very sensitive to the touch he could feel. He moaned as she called him a bad boy, he would be for her he knew, right now the switch had been flicked and big, strong, confident cop Marcus Cole had been replaced with helpless, aroused beyond any means of measuring, Belinda's sex toy Marcus Cole. He nodded, first with a small, hardly noticeable motion, then thinking perhaps she hadn't seen it a more energetic up and down.
 
"That's a good boy," Belinda said after Marcus nodded his okay for her to deploy the dildo to the only location his body provided. She squeezed a big glob of lubricant out into one palm and prepared the device, saying, "I think you're going to enjoy this ... and even if you don't, I will."

She gave him another evil smirk. Belinda didn't really know how to talk dirty, let alone talk Dominatrix, despite her half dozen or so forays into mild BDSM. She would try her best without embarrassing herself.

Once the dildo was ready, Belinda slid her lubed hand between the lower curves of Marcus's ass cheeks and found his anus. She toyed her fingertips about his pucker, then slowly but fully inserted and withdrew one, then two, then the fingers.

She watched Marcus for a shaking head and listened for him to complain. Neither happened, leading her to ask with a suggestive tone, "Shall we continue?"

Regardless how Marcus answered, Belinda would go on. She urged his knees up and out as far as his ankle shackles would permit, placed the dildo's top at his hole, and lightly pushed. Again, she watched closely for any sign of discomfort, pain, or regret, but saw none.

It took a moment, but Marcus relaxed enough to allow the toy through his sphincter. She hesitated, studying him, whispering, "That's a good boy, Marcus ... take your medicine like a good boy."

Belinda continued sinking the eight inch long, inch and a half thick dildo into Marcus's ass, watching for a sign of when to stop. She thought she got it, then sat back on her haunches to let him get used to having something inserted where it didn't belong for a man like him ... or maybe it did?

"Now, for the twist," she said as she reached to the pile of toys again. She retrieved what appeared to be a small remote control, saying, "The guy at the store showed me how to use this."

She giggled, clarifying as she looked to the visible couple of inches of the dildo, "Of course, that wasn't up his ass at the time."

She pressed a button, and the object came to life. Initially, it only vibrated. "He said this might be worth the cost of it."

She pressed another button. Inside the dildo's flexible latex skin, dozens of little rings began to both enlarge slightly and move ever so slightly to and fro, not really going anywhere but -- in concert -- creating the percieved sensation of a massive cock being inserted and withdrawn its full length every few seconds as if Marcus was indeed getting fucked in the ass.

"How does my good boy like that?" she teased with the tone a mother might use for their toddler. "Maybe a little faster ... a little deeper?"

She fiddled with the button to make the ass fucking more intense.
 
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