“Oh, James!”
“Come for me, Zoey. Don’t hold back.” I press my lips back on her divine p*ssy
, and with the next flick of my tongue, she explodes in my face with a gush of wetness. Best of all, she screams my name. The way it’s spoken stirs me to the core. It’s time for her to get to know my other big gun.
“Lie down. Hands above your head. Then bend your knees and spread them wide.”
Silently, she does as told, and at the sight of her, I feel my cock swell, as if bigger is possible. She’s truly exceptional. Her p*ssy
so ready, her nub a crimson rosebud and the delicate wet petals of her cleft an exquisite shade of pink. Her thighs quiver.
Our eyes connect.
“James, you’ve never even taken me to dinner.”
“No, I’ve never taken you to dinner looking like this. Let me give you something to digest.”
On my knees between her legs, I undo the clasp of my pants and zip down my fly. My hard as a rock cock springs out like a jack in the box. Her jaw drops to her chest and she gasps.
I don’t think I’ve ever had such a powerful erection. It curls to my navel. There’s even a bead of pre-cum on the tip. “Do I come up to your expectations?”
“Oh, James, so beyond! Please, James, I need you inside me!”
“My dear, I’m going to f*ck
you until you detonate. Blow you up into a million little pieces. I’m going to make you come so loud, so hard you’re going to scare the fish.”
“Oh James, take me. You can have me any time. Anywhere. Whatever is left of me, whatever I am, I’m yours!”
She has no idea. I lean into her, placing one hand on the cold cement to anchor myself, and the other around my enormous shaft. I rub it along her soaked folds and then I put it at her entrance. Inch by thick inch, I glide it inside her until I hit the warm, wet velvet of her womb. She clenches around me. And then I hear another scream.
“I’m not done with you, James.”
The voice is a hoarse, deranged whisper, but I’d recognize it anywhere. Katrina! She’s alive! Still inside Zoey, I crank my neck and her venomous eyes collide with mine. Zoey’s knife is in her hands. Before I can blink, a white-hot pain sears me…
Fade to black.
At the sound of my alarm, I bolt up in my bed. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m back to being me. And that I’m alive. I’ve got a giant boner and I’m shaking like a leaf. The blurred line between reality and fantasy frightens me. My dream’s as vivid as the morning light. I try to make sense of it.
It’s sending me a message. About my need for dominance. And my need for my assistant. Zoey’s under my skin and in my bloodstream. She lives in my soul and makes me feel whole.
But my gut tells me this dream is an ominous warning. An omen. A chill runs through me from my head to my toes. Things are so goddamn complicated. My f*ck
ing life is totally out of control.
Zoey
The next day, I’m feeling a lot stronger physically, so Brandon lets me spend more time up and about. I spend most of my time helping him with some lines and, like it or not, responding to the never-ending tweets about the status of Bratrina. He seems a little on edge. When I ask him why, he tells me he’s got a lot on his mind and didn’t sleep well. That makes two of us. Visions of Donatelli and my mother’s brutal death haunted me as did Brandon’s pending marriage to Katrina.
In the late afternoon, he orders me to put my laptop away and we snuggle on the couch to watch another rough-cut of an upcoming Kurt Kussler episode. Both of us relax. Halfway through it, my phone rings. Brandon puts the show on pause while I answer it.
It’s Pops! He’s back in town and wants to come over. He’s eager to talk to me.
Forty-five minutes later, he’s at the house. I hug him at the front door.
“Oh, Pops! I’m so glad you’re here.”
“How are you doing, babycakes?”
I smile and usher him in. “I’m doing better.”
“I’m taking good care of her, Detective.” Widening my smile, I cast my eyes at Brandon who’s come to join us. “I’m about to order in some sandwiches from Greenblatt’s. Would you like one?”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I won’t be staying long. The missus wants me home for dinner. Boss’s orders.”
Brandon and I both laugh. “What about a beer then?” he asks.
Pops’s eyes light up. “Now, that I’ll take.”
“Me too,” I chime in.
Brandon shoots me a dirty look and waggles a reprimanding finger. “Uh-uh-uh. No beer for you. You can’t have any alcohol while you’re on your meds. Your boss’s orders. Understood?”
I make a face. “Yes, sir.” Brandon’s face lights up at the last word.
While Brandon goes to the kitchen to get the beers, Pops shrugs off his trench coat and makes himself at home, taking a seat in one of Brandon’s oversized chairs. I curl up on the couch. Someone who wastes no time, Pops gets right into it.