Lust on the Loose (2 page)

She sprawled
forward over the desk, across the jumble of prints, while he eased
her panties down the bronzed flesh of her soft plump thighs. As he
lifted one foot out of the tiny garment she spread her legs apart
and he looked upwards into the thatch of dark hair that covered her
crotch. The long pink lips of her vagina were clearly visible,
glistening with her evident excitement.

'What are you
waiting for, Billy?' she whispered. 'Go ahead and fuck the arse off
me - I want my money's worth out of these bloody photos!'

'Daddy was
right,' said Sophie Stark to herself, as she lay motionless on the
bed. 'I'm crazy. There's no doubt about it.'

She eased her
shoulders against the bedhead. She was getting stiff but she didn't
dare move sufficiently to give herself proper relief. Not until she
had decided precisely what to do about the naked man beside
her.

He was
stretched out along the length of her, his head on the pillow
nuzzling into the curve of her left breast, one arm encircling her
waist. He had been sleeping for over an hour now but she had not
closed her eyes. This was by no means the first gentleman-caller
Sophie had invited into her bed but it was the first time Detective
Sergeant Stark had gone quite this far. There was a lot of gossip
about her. They said she'd stop at nothing to get her man. But this
was the first time she had lured a wanted criminal into the
sanctuary of her own bedroom and fucked his brains out for half the
night.

'Crazy,' she
repeated to herself.

It hadn't
exactly been premeditated but the moment she had clapped eyes on
the surveillance photos of Crispin Kingsley, elusive pimp and
white-slaver, she had felt the familiar lurch of lust in the pit of
her stomach. He was stunningly beautiful - tall, suntanned and
built like a loose-limbed sprinter. His flashing smile and eyes of
innocent baby blue exuded public-school integrity. It didn't matter
that his real name was Herbert String or that he had a list of
convictions ranging from dope-dealing to indecent assault. Sophie
knew, though she never exactly spelled it out to herself, that
given the chance she'd let him into her pants. Then she'd turn him
in.

So far, things
were going according to plan. She'd allowed him to pick her up at
Evangeline, the tacky night club he used as a local. Fortunately
long-legged redheads in mini-skirts were just his type. The rest of
the evening was now very pleasurable history. She hadn't expected
him to be such a charmer, he had manners and style, he was fun. He
also had brilliant lingual technique. He'd had her knickers off
going up the stairs to her flat and licked her out in the hall.
She'd come twice before they'd even got into the bedroom. And then
he'd got to work with his cock, a long elegant appendage that he
used on her with such confident expertise that she even considered
proposing an unspeakably filthy weekend out of town. Fortunately by
the time she had recovered her breath her good sense had prevailed.
Charmer though he was, if she went off with a villain like Kingsley
there was no guarantee she would ever return.

Now she had
had her fun she was in a quandary. It was five o'clock in the
morning. Her quarry was sleeping peacefully beside her. Somehow she
had to immobilise him and get some help.

She rolled
towards the side of the bed, hoping to slip away without waking
him. At once his grasp tightened and the arm around her waist held
her fast. His eyes, their lashes impossibly long, snapped wide open
and he smiled up at her from beneath the white bulge of her
breast.

'Good morning,
darling,' he said and fastened his sculpted lips over her
nipple.

'Don't,
Chris,' she said but she could feel the betraying tingle in her
flesh as his mouth caressed her.

Suddenly he
was all over her, hugging her to him in an urgent embrace, kissing
her hard, one hand kneading the softness of her buttocks.

'For God's
sake,' she cried, tearing her mouth from his and wondering
frantically how she could subdue this gorgeous male who had emerged
from a deep sleep instantly rampant. She could feel the evidence of
his condition digging hard into her thigh and knew it would be
thrusting deep inside her within the next minute if she didn't
divert him.

'Chris,' she
breathed into his ear, 'would you like to try something
different?'

That had an
effect, though by now his fingers were at the lips of her pussy,
teasing them apart.

'What are you
proposing, Steph?'

For a second
that took her by surprise. Then she remembered she had told him her
name was Stephanie.

One finger was
now inside her, a second followed, widening the breach. A thumb was
ever-so-gently nudging her clit.

'Have you ever
had a feminist fuck?'

The hand
slowed.

'What the hell
is that?'

'Let me out of
bed and I'll show you.'

'But I'm
enjoying what we're doing now.'

His fingers
had resumed their insistent probing. She vainly clamped her thighs
together as a ripple of pleasure shuddered through her belly.

'Chris,
I'm
not doing anything. It's all you. It's great - ooh, that's
nice - but sometimes a girl likes to have things her own way. I
can't believe you're a
complete
chauvinist.'

That stopped
him. Chris was very concerned about his self-image.

'So what is
it? Girls-on-top time?'

'Sort of - but with a few variations. You'll love it, macho
man. I can guarantee that you're going to get fucked like you've
never been fucked before.'
And
how
, added Sophie to herself as she
slithered out of his now-relaxed grasp.

She began to
feel more confident as she scrambled in the second drawer of her
dressing-table where she kept her underwear. She now had an idea of
how to get out of this mess. As she hunted in the drawer she stuck
her rear end out provocatively and wiggled it for his
enjoyment.

Kingsley
wolf-whistled. 'Very feminist,' he said, 'just my kind.'

Sophie slowly
turned and walked back to the bed, making sure to jiggle her
breasts and flash her most lascivious smile. Not that she had to
pretend to be on heat. He lay back with his hands folded behind his
head. The sheet was on the floor. In the dim light his body was a
golden brown all over apart from a broad strip across his loins.
His cock lay fully erect against his belly, the fat red tip rudely
gleaming against the white flesh. Sophie couldn't take her eyes off
it. God, she was wet between the legs.

'OK, lover,' she said, 'you just lie there and do as I say.'
And she straddled his body on all fours facing his feet. Very
slowly she lowered the fork of her crotch until she judged it to be
about six inches from his face. He had to be gazing right up her
sopping pussy.
Crazy and
shameless
, she thought to
herself.

'Oh boy,
Steph,' came a voice from between her legs, 'you've got some
ass.'

She made no
reply but felt his hands on her upturned rump, spreading her
cheeks. Then came the first licks as his knowing tongue began to
meander across the tops of her inner thighs. She shivered. This was
going to take all her concentration.

With Kingsley
thus occupied Sophie began surreptitiously to loop a stocking
around his left ankle like a cord. She tied the other end to the
bedpost.

'Hey, what are
you up to?' he asked.

'Shut up and
suck,' she replied, settling her bottom squarely on his face. He
didn't protest.

She quickly
began to wind a silk scarf round his other foot, at the same time
trying to ignore the sensation of his mouth and tongue on the most
intimate portion of her anatomy. But some things cannot be ignored
and, as he licked in long, agonisingly slow strokes from the tip of
her crack to the rose of her anus, she felt the unmistakable onset
of orgasm. Her hands worked furiously at the knot in the silk. His
tongue fluttered sensationally over her throbbing clitoris. She
pulled at the material, it held fast to the right-hand bedpost. He
flick-flick-flicked with his tongue and she came in a rush,
grinding her pussy down onto his lips, squeezing his face between
her thighs and moaning an incoherent litany of lust.

There was
silence for a long moment, broken only by her ragged breathing.

Finally he
said, 'What the hell have you done to my feet?'

She pushed
herself up and turned to face him. 'Didn't I tell you I was kinky?
I love to tie men up. Now, don't worry, the best bit's still to
come.'

'I hope
I'm
still to come,' he said but she didn't reply. Instead she
hooked her leg over his body and poised herself above his straining
cock.

She gave the
big tool an exploratory squeeze and a pearly drop of juice swelled
from the tip. 'Poor thing,' she said, 'he's feeling a little left
out.' And she fed the fat head between the lips of her vagina and
sank down.

'Ooh baby,
that's more like it,' said Kingsley. 'I think I like this feminist
fucking.'

'You
think!
I
tell you this is the best lay you'll have for years.' She swayed
forward and dangled her breasts temptingly above his face. The big
white globes swung like ripe fruit.

'What do you
think of my tits?'

'Magnificent.'

'Don't touch.
You can only look.'

'Why?'

'That's the
rules. No tit-fondling or I'll have to tie your hands.'

'You
are
kinky.'

'You bet.'

Then they were
struggling. He trying to squeeze and pinch her breasts, she
cunningly winding a stocking round his wrist and tying his hand to
the bedpost just as she had fastened his feet. He laughed, it was
fun submitting to this spunky redhead who was bouncing on his cock
and pushing her succulent breasts into his face. He lay back and
suckled happily at her nipple as she turned her attention to tying
down his other hand.

Sophie was
exultant. She had him now - in every way. She leaned back and
grinned down at him exultantly. He pulled experimentally at his
bonds. They held. He pulled harder. They still held.

'Gotcha,' she
said.

'Looks like
it,' he replied. 'Now what are you going to do?'

Sophie had
fully intended at this point to make tracks for the phone next door
and summon assistance. But somehow it was not easy to unhitch
herself from the warm pole of the beautiful cock throbbing deep
inside her. Nevertheless DS Stark prided herself on her
professionalism and here was the opportunity she had schemed for.
The sacrifices she made in the call of duty!

'Sorry,
Chris,' she said as she reluctantly raised herself from his body,
allowing the stiff and eager penis to slip from between the puffy
pink lips of her pussy. It made an unhappy wet plopping sound as it
flopped back against the tautly muscled flesh of his belly.

'Hey!'
protested her abandoned lover and he yanked viciously against his
bonds.

'Now, now,'
she admonished, sliding a teasing finger down his chest and into
the sticky knot of curls above his angry-looking cock. 'I'll be
back soon. The waiting is the best bit. It'll make you appreciate
me more.' And she slid her hand between his legs and cupped his
balls, squeezing gently. She had the bugger all right, though it
might be prudent to tie him tighter.

He began to
complain more loudly as she fetched belts and a dressing-gown cord
and began to reinforce his bonds.

'Cut it out,
Stephanie,' he said firmly, 'a joke's a joke but now I've had
enough.' Then, as she took no notice but continued to bind his
wrists, 'Look, you silly cow, I'll give you such a belting if you
don't let me go right now.'

Sophie
realised she had to do something to shut him up or else he might
wake the neighbours. She wadded up a pair of panties and thrust
them into his mouth, then tied them firmly into place with another
scarf.

She surveyed
her handiwork with satisfaction and smiled. The gorgeous gangster
was spreadeagled helplessly, his once-powerful cock now wilted and
wet against his thigh, his eyes bulging and his face red with fury.
Trussed and tied, this turkey wasn't going anywhere.

She took her
CID badge from the bedside table drawer and flipped it open so he
could read it.

'Sorry,
Crispin,' she said, 'you've just been comprehensively shafted.'

Billy's second
surprise visitor showed up approximately sixty seconds after Patsy
had made a noisy and affectionate exit, clasping the bag of photos
to her well-handled bosom. Billy was slumped in a chair, the sound
of Patsy's retreating bangles still jangling in his ears, when the
brisk clack of an approaching pair of shoes had him reaching for
the trousers still concertinaed round his ankles.

There was no
discernible lapse in time between the perfunctory rap on the door
and the entrance of a severe young woman in a charcoal grey suit
and spectacles. Apart from the discreet gold crucifix at her pale
throat, she wore nothing that could be construed as decoration - no
jewellery, no make-up, no perfume. Her skirt fell below the knee,
her stockings were dark, her shoes were low-heeled lace-ups, her
hair was scraped back and her mouth was turned down yet Billy's
heart leapt to see her. Like Patsy, she was as welcome as the sun
in February. The presence of Ms Katherine Crisp, solicitor, could
mean only one thing. Work.

She took in
his dishevelled state at a glance and sniffed. Her thin pink lips
were pulled into a disapproving sneer as she said, 'When I passed
that blonde slut on the stairs I thought I might find you half
naked.'