Double Tap (15 page)

By the time my orgasm was on me, I was screaming.

I filled his mouth with my release, and his ears with my scream, gasping and panting as I tried in vain to recover from the orgasm he’d just given me.

He didn’t seem to notice the fact that he was holding me up, instead pulling me with him to the couch where he collapsed.

I fell, too, my back to his chest, and his large, fat cock smashed in between us.

He growled as he lifted me up slightly, positioned his cock at my entrance, and then slammed me down.

I, of course, went willingly.

Not only because my legs still hadn’t decided to come back online, but because I just plain wanted to feel him.

He filled me up to almost bursting, and my hands trailed down between my leg to feel where he ended and I began.

My entrance was stretched to the brink, and I rubbed where he entered me, gathering juices before I let my hand travel down to his balls.

Each thrust of his hips swung his balls up, hitting me deliciously.

He growled and pulled my hips down harder, and I held on for dear life as he used me.

Impossibly, I could feel my orgasm building again. I could feel it on the precipice. I wasn’t quite there, but I knew I could be without any effort if I were to touch myself.

“I like it when your ass jiggles each time you sit down on my cock. The way my fingers sink into your flesh. It’s so fucking perfect that that’s all I want to do all fucking day.
Watch you ride me
into the night. Watch my cock disappear into your tight little pussy, then come out all shiny with your juices,” Nico growled behind me.

Butterflies started to flit into my stomach at his words.

They also shot adrenaline through my veins.

You see, Nico isn’t a talker, he’s a doer. But when he does talk, you listen, because it’s fucking important.

So, for him to tell me how much he likes to watch me ‘ride him’ meant the freakin’ world to me. It also meant I’d
be doing a lot more of it in my future. Because anything that can make Nico talk
like that was something I’d be doing over and over again, just to hear it.

“Yeah?” Was the only thing I could think of to say.

My brain was too occupied with supplying oxygen to my important parts to really hold an intelligent
conversation. But it could listen, and by the time he was done telling me all the naughty things he liked about this
position, the orgasm that’d been looming slammed into me.

He growled, leaning me forward, he started to fuck in and out of me furiously.

My head fell back, and the tips of my hair tickled the swell of my ass.

Which only made him pump his hips even harder at the sight.

I felt his abdomen contract, and in the next moment, he was coming with me, slowing until he coaxed his orgasm out leisurely.

The hot splashes filled me up, making me gasp in defeat as my body collapsed back onto his chest.

He wrapped his thick, muscular arms around me, and I leaned my head to the side to let his arm support my head.

“I think you broke me. I may never move again,” I informed him.

His dick twitched inside of me at my comment, and I clenched down on him in response, causing him to growl.

“I can’t help it,” I informed him.

He laughed, and his dick continued to bounce inside of me.

Soon, though, that led to his dick not going soft anymore, but the exact opposite.

It filled up again, and this time he started to rock slowly inside of me.

My hands, which had been clenching his forearms, now traveled down to where we were connected, and I felt our combined releases as he propelled his dick forward and backward inside of me.

This time our lovemaking was much slower. It took him a long time to go again, but I wasn’t complaining.

Not one damn bit.

I’m trying to be awesome today, but I’m exhausted from being so awesome yesterday.

-Coffee Cup

Nico

I woke to total quiet.

I hadn’t done that in three days, but today was the first day that I’d woken without Georgia’s warm, soft body pressed up against me in some way.

Her against my side. Her against my front. Me tucked around her small body, smelling her hair.

Georgia’s favorite, however, was when she got to be the ‘big spoon,’ as she liked to call it.

Apparently,
she liked feeling the heat of my back as she slept. Something about my back being like a space heater or some shit.

Whatever. If she liked it, I’d do it. No questions. Even if she was weird.

I loved her weird, though.

I loved every single thing about her.

I certainly wouldn’t have made it through the funeral the day before without her.

I’m not one to show emotions, but when the young widow had requested me to be a pall bearer, I’d nearly broken down and cried.

I’d done the task without even questioning her request, happy to be of some use to her.

That wasn’t to say it hadn’t torn me up inside.

In fact, it’d been damn near impossible.

Then I’d come home and taken a nap, and promptly had a dream about everything and everyone I cared about being killed.

What had helped me was Georgia being at my side, holding me when I’d woken up gasping and unable to breathe.

Getting up, I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and then went through my usual grooming routine which consisted of pulling out my clippers and sticking the shortest guard onto the trimmer. Then I ran the clippers over my hair.

It was a habit, keeping my hair shorn as short as possible without being bald.

A habit that I kept once I entered the workforce.

Having hair just gave the bad guys an extra handhold. And in my case, I could use all the help I could get.

However, since I didn’t have to work today, or any fucking day in the near future, I didn’t bother with shaving.

I already had way more than a five
o’clock shadow. In fact it was more like a
four day growth, but I had no incentive to shave it. Especially since Georgia had told me just last night how good my beard felt against her nipples. Maybe I’d grow a beard again.

I’d just pulled on some pants over my boxers and semi-hard erection, because I was a fucking nut and could get hard over just about anything Georgia related, when the knock came at the door.

I decided against a shirt, but instead chose to pick my sidearm and the holster I kept next to the bed.

I clipped it in place at the small of my back and walked to the front room.

My feet felt gritty underneath my feet, reminding me of all the traffic from my friends and family I’d had over the past three days.

It was time to sweep and then call Candice, my cleaning lady.

I didn’t clean. Nor did I
want
to clean.

Candice, though, was excellent at it and she had five kids to support.

One of which was the baby of the mother I’d shot dead.

I knew she was perfect for the job the moment I realized that the small infant didn’t have any family.

Candice was a sweet woman. Her and her husband were unable to have children of their own since the husband was shot during the war in Iraq.

He’d lost all feeling from his belly button down, along with it the ability for him to have kids.

Candice had been a trooper, though, staying with him through thick and thin.

She was a receptionist at a local law firm in town while her husband, Guy, did woodworking at home.

I actually owned quite a few of his pieces since he specialized in the rustic look that I’d fallen in love with when I’d started remodeling my parent’s house.

Candice started cleaning my house one day when she’d come over because one of my horses had broken through the fence on her side of the property. After I’d retrieved my elusive
horse, we’d gotten to talking and the rest was, as you could say, history.

I made it to the door and checked out the peephole, gut clenching at whom I saw on the other side.

Special Agent Nathan Lawrence.

I’d met Lawrence when he told us about the woman I’d shot.

Special Agent Lawrence was the man in charge of the case that involved Anita and her father.

He’d been trying to obtain more information on Anita’s father, who’d been imprisoned
for laundering money. They suspected that it was for the Russian Mafia, but hadn’t been able to prove it. So they’d sent an agent to ‘gather information.’ That agent being Reese’
s ex-boyfriend, who’d also died the same day Luke was shot.

The entire operation had been royally fucked up, and it didn’t bode well to have the man in charge of the entire op standing on my doorstep.

Fuck.

Georgia

“Hi, Mr. Sergei. How are you doing today?” I asked, offering my hand to the tall blonde man.

He smiled slightly at me. His wife didn’t offer much more as I sat down in my office chair.

“We’re doing well, thank you,” Sergei said with a slight Russian hint to his accent.

I smiled, feeling like he was judging me.

His eyes took in my attire and my office with a haughty air, and I hated him instantly.

It’d take a small miracle to get me to give him custody of the small little girl.

I’d never met her, although I planned on doing that later this afternoon since she was on my way home, but I’d never give a child to someone I knew would act that way to a complete stranger.

One, incidentally, who was in charge of giving him custody of a child he so ‘desperately’ wanted.

“Can you tell me about yourself?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

Sergei followed my example, leaning back in his chair and crossing his elegant hands over his expensive suit. “As you know, Ms. Valentine, I am Anton Sergei. My wife and I,
Masha, have been married for a little over thirteen years. We’ve been trying to have children for twelve of them. After our third year of trying, we went on to fertility doctors. We tried that for six years before we started adoption. We have two children right now that we’d obtained through adoption.”

The way he said ‘obtained’ made my hands clench in my lap.
Why wouldn’t
he say ‘blessed’ or ‘adopted?’

Who the fuck said ‘obtained?’

What a dick.

I nodded. “Right. Can you tell me about
the accommodations that you would have for a child?”

And so it went.

I asked questions and he answered them with pompous, I’m-too-good-for-you, answers.

The only reason I was still considering it was that he offered a huge donation to the center every year.

“And can you tell me about your work? Will you have time for a third
child?
I see that you are both prominent lawyers in the area. Mrs. Sergei?”

Mrs. Sergei hadn’t answered any of the questions so far, and I wanted to hear it from her.

Mr. Sergei didn’t let her, though. I started to wonder if she even could.

The meeting was a disaster, and I welcomed the call that came through my line moments after he answered for her yet again.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I said, answering the phone. “This is Georgia Valentine.”

“Ms. Valentine?” A frantic female voice whispered.

“Beverly?” I asked in concern.

“I need you,” she whispered.

I sat up straight in my chair. “Of course, honey. Where are you?”

Beverly was an eighteen year old senior at the local high school.

I met her for the first time at a counseling session when she wanted to discuss the option of adoption.

Since the day I first met her, I knew she’d been in a bind at home. Her parents didn’t know she was pregnant, much to my
dismay. I’d attempted to get her to tell them.

However, she was eighteen, and she knew how her parents would react if they knew she was pregnant.

So I’d met with her in private at the youth center where she went after school and some weekends.

There I’d given her every available resource we had.

“I’m at a hotel. The one off the interstate. The Budget Inn on the access road. Room 41,” she whispered.

I stood up and started collecting my things, much to the Sergei’s annoyance.

“I’ll be right there, honey,” I said before hanging up.

Sergei looked disgusted that I’d even contemplated leaving during his interview, but there wasn’t much he could say since he wanted to be considered as baby Angel’s adoptive parents.

So, he didn't say anything negative. He accepted my abrupt departure graciously and I glared at their backs as I let them out the door in front of me.

They were two steps in front of me the entire way, taking a left as we got out to the parking lot, instead of the right I had to take.

They walked to a pretentious, upper class Jaguar that I could probably never afford in my entire lifetime, and drove away with little fanfare.

I got into my car and started the short drive to the hotel. I arrived in a matter of moments, pulling up directly in front of room 41 and parking the car.

I exited the car hurriedly, leaving my phone on the seat, accidentally, in my haste to reach Beverly.

I knocked hurriedly, and a clearly disheveled Beverly answered the door.

And in her arms was a tiny infant wrapped up in a white hotel towel.

I came inside, dropping my purse in the chair beside the door.

“Beverly…what…how…” I stuttered.

She looked at me miserably and thrust the sleeping child into my arms before she walked to the bed and started shoving the stuff she had into a plastic sack.

I looked down at the child, smiling at the perfectness of her.

Then I looked up, startled to find Beverly marching out of the room.

“Beverly…what are you doing?” I
questioned in surprise.

She looked at me, her face devoid of all emotion.

“I can’t keep her, Ms. Valentine. If I stay I’ll want to, and I can’t. I need you to take her. Hold onto her for me for a few days. After I give it a few days, I’ll come sign the papers to release her into the state’s custody. I’m sorry, Ms. Valentine. So sorry.”