Sex Lies and Lamborghinis Ch. 06

He relented instantly, instructing me on how to access a chat program and establish a video link with him... and there he was. Darkening blond hair; that square chin, framing an impish grin; and something of a bashful, unsupposing, dispossessing manner about him, as though he didn't really think of himself as a total hottie – he was a total hottie, but no big deal.

I had to bite my lip a moment, before regathering my composure. "Hello you," I greeted his tasty image.

"Hello yourself," Mick returned – and as he spoke, my heart flew into my mouth.

Oh, I could have eaten that cute little bastard for breakfast.

But he would not let me bask in his glow for long – "So go on then," he said. "You said you'd make it 'worth my while'?"

"Indeed I did," I purred, playing at my lapels again in a fashion most teasing. "I thought I might share with you, some of the things I've been thinking about... some of the things I plan to do to you, when I finally track you down."

The hot-and-heavy tones with which I delivered my line definitely snagged his attention. "I'm all ears, Detective Sergeant," he invited, his grin (and his dimples!) cranking up a delicious little notch.

"See now..." I began; and though he couldn't necessarily have seen it or known it, below the desk and out of sight my fingers were creeping and snaking their way up my skirt, seeking out my dripping pantiless crotch that was simply begging for attention, my flirtations with my quarry having driven me half-batty with horniness.

"See now: when I catch you, I'm gunna drag you off somewhere where I can get you alone. Somewhere where there's no witnesses, no colleagues or superiors to get in my way."

"Yeah?" he asked, all dimples and eye-teeth as he grinned enormously. "What have you got in mind for me, then?"

"Mmm, terrible terrible things," I cooed, as my fingertips found and played with the outer folds of my hot, utterly saturated sex.

"Such as?"

"Might be a bit of 'cruelty while under imprisonment' going on," I warned him. "Might have to knock you around a bit – you're too cocky for my liking."

"You reckon I'm 'cocky', eh?" he asked, loading the word most wickedly.

"Something tells me you're very, very 'cocky'," I purred in reply, repressing a shiver as my probing fingers landed upon my gorging clit.

"So then – how do you propose to knock some sense into me?" Mick probed, his eyes thoroughly a-twinkle.

"Mmmmmm..." I said, as I took a moment to lose myself in my slow-rising pleasure. "Mmm, I will most certainly get violent."

"Violent, you say?"

"Uh huh," I breathed, as I laid a second finger directly upon my sopping clit, biting my lower lip against the flowering explosion of pleasure that it brought.

"Dare I ask: will handcuffs be involved?"

"Most definitely," I nodded, sitting back a little in my chair as I began to work at myself in earnest; I saw Mick look a little lower at his monitor, and I knew he was aware of what I was doing – my crotch was still out of sight, but my arm was definitely leading down to my zone, and the way my arm worked and jiggled probably did little to suggest I was doing anything otherwise.

"My my..." Mick breathed, and the fascination and appreciation on his face shone brighter than any compliment possibly could.

"Mmm..." I moaned slightly, before I continued: "I think I'll definitely have to restrain you. I'm definitely going to want to work without interruption."

"Yeah?" he asked, as he looked right at me – right into the camera, his enormous blue eyes looking right at me, as though staring into the bottom of my very soul...

...and I couldn't help it, I let out a little gasp and a whimper as I was very nearly overcome, merely by the look in his eye. The look that wanted me. The look that wanted to take me, and have me. This guy was something else...

"Tell me more," he urged, bringing me back from the brink of mindless oblivion. "Tell me: you've got me handcuffed..."

"I've got you handcuffed..." I breathed raggedly, chest heaving, breasts threatening to break through my loosely-buttoned blouse and spill in front of him. "And bound to a chair..."

"Uh huh," he urged, hungrily, wantonly. "Bound to a chair, yeah...?"

"And... and... and I'll take your trousers..."

"Yeah..." he urged me on, all eyes, chiselled and beautiful...

"I'll take your trousers, and..." I was ready to cum. My orgasm was building and spiralling quicker and higher than anything I could remember – there was something about this guy, about the piping-hot look in his eye, the unabashed cheekiness of his dealings, the vibe between us – a feeling, a bond as though between kindred spirits...

"I'll take your trousers, and unleash your cock," I told him, with almost a snarl – I was ready. I was building up to the brink, I was ready to go over the edge, and I was desperate to bring him with me. "I'll unleash your cock, and I'll climb aboard... and I'll fuck you, Mick," I told him, and I surprised the hell out of him and myself: I kicked the chair back and threw my feet up on the desk, my skirt riding high up my legs like a belt, my spare hand tearing my blouse open and spilling my breasts before him, my panties long gone and my cunt exposed, exposed and hot, exposed and so very very wet as I plied it with my fingers, as I treated and played with myself, as I played for him, played three-quarts naked in front of him...

"And I'll fuck you," I was chanting, "and I'll fuck you, and I'll fuck you, and I'll fuck you..." I kept chanting even as his eyes boggled on the screen, as he sat slack-jawed and took me in – my legs spread wide, my tits out and heaving, my fingers deep inside myself, plunging and squelching and fucking myself as my head fell back and my eyes lolled and I was ready, beyond ready, I was ready to cum...

"Oh yeah..." I heard him groan over the phone, and on the screen he was standing: he was standing, he had unleashed the very cock I had been dreaming about all day – and it was just as huge and wide and veiny and beautiful as I had imagined, a rod of immense promise and beauty, and he was wanking it, he was wanking before his camera as he watched me wank for him...

...and I came at the sight of it, I fell suddenly over the edge and I came, I quivered and melted and came and came, hollering and screaming and howling unabashed and uncontrollable as I watch him pump, and pump, and pump...

...and with a grunt and a huge sigh he came, his cock which had still been growing even as he watched me and worked at himself, his cock erupted with huge thick white streamers of cum, jizzing hot and creamy and delicious as the streamers died down into thick wadded waves of cum, and he bucked and he bent and he nearly buckled as his self-ministrations drove him over the edge, and he came even as I kept coming, as I came anew to watch him cum, as I drank in the beautiful and glorious sight of this man coming with me, coming for me, just for me and because of me, as he came and I came and we came together and forever.

Hardly had we even started settling down, I heard my phone buzzing mutedly on the floor where it had fallen. I hardly bothered to look at it, expecting it to be the station with a result on the trace – not like I could get up and go get Mick now, I hardly had strength enough to stay upright in the chair let alone pick up and chase the guy down – but I looked again as I saw it was a text message from Trish, whose number I had put in my phone not even an hour ago:

"This is Pagani. I've got Trish. Come and meet me now, and come alone, or she's dead."

My heart froze for a second, before an involuntary "fuck" slipped out of my mouth.

"What's wrong?" Mick asked, suddenly concerned on the computer screen – still with his cock in his hand, breathing hard from his exertions.

"Pagani. He's got Trish," I muttered, regretting it immediately – that was the last thing I wanted Mick to know.

"Fucking hell!" Mick roared, in a sudden mad scramble to clean up. "I'm gunna kill him!"

"Stay away from him Mick," I ordered, no-nonsense and authoritative even as I pushed my skirt back down over my still-twitching twat and worked to refix my few remaining buttons. "This has become a police matter."

"Like fuck it has," Mick retorted. "This is between me and him. Just leave it be."

"That's not gunna happen Mick," I promised him, as I regathered my gunbelt and the keys to Mick's Elfin. "Trish's safety is my responsibility now. Leave it to me."

"No – you leave it to me."

"Don't argue with me, Mick!"

"Fuck's sake," Mick spat. "You sound just like my wife."

"She's a good woman Mick – better than you deserve. Stay the fuck away from Pagani, or so help me God I will shoot you my fucking self." And with that I yanked the webcam off its cord, threw it against the wall and headed out, ignoring Mick as he spat and swore over our phone connection.

"Fucking dirty lotto-winners and fucking dirty Euro-thugs," I sneered as I ran through the house and jumped into the Elfin. "And I was gunna go swap this for the Mercedes. Shit," I pouted as I fired up the massive V8, making the tiny little car shiver like it had been stung.

Life just isn't fair, sometimes.

TO BE CONTINUED...