My heart races over her words as she keeps my wrists clipped behind me, but unclips them from my ankles and makes me crawl on my knees until I bump into a naked leg, which startles both of us guys.
I quickly realize from what’s happening that I’m the “lucky” one. She rolls a condom onto my cock and helps me into position between the man’s legs. He’s on his hands and knees, too. She holds my cock to line it up with his ass, and maybe this is the moment the first hints of my bastard side emerge, because I’m so goddamned horny that I don’t even care if she’s lubed him or not.
“You may put your cock inside him, but hold still once you do. Be my good boy. Donotstart fucking him yet, or your positions will be reversed.”
Her hand disappears. Me and the other guy both moan as I press forward, maybe harder than I meant to, but goddamnhis ass is hot and tight and it’s grabbing at my fucking cock. It takes every last ounce of fucking willpower I have not to plow him.
I’m biting down on the fucking ball gag now more to hold back my needy groan than anything. I sense her right next to us, doing something, and then the guy groans again, his ass twitching around my cock.
She unclips my wrists. I instinctively reach forward, my hands on his ass, his hips. I realize his hands are clipped behind him, and I hold on to them, pinning him there.
If he’s like me and enjoys the way she uses a strap-on, then he’ll love that.
I think his happy-sounding moan is in response to me doing that.
I hear her whispering something to the other guy, then another long, loud moan from him.
“You may fuck him, boy,” she tells me. “Make it last as long as you can, because unless you decide to suck another one from each other, it’s the only one you’re allowed to have until next time I let you play.”
Fuck.
I don’t even have time to contemplate that. I start fucking him, realizing at least she lubed the poor bastard. I suspect from how eagerly he’s fucking back against me that either he likes being on bottom, or she’s jerking him off at the same time, or maybe both. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.
I slow down, wanting this to last, but Elsa’s a bitch. She strokes him in a faster rhythm that’s making the guy’s ass clench around my cock and getting me too close to the edge too damned fast.
Fuck it.
I know what she said, but I’ll risk it. Lights go off behind my eyelids when I finally explode, grinding hard into the nameless man as she gets him over and his body squeezes me.
Laughter.
Her laughter.
Even though Ijustcame, I feel my cock twitch already.
Especially when she reaches over and rubs my head through the hood. “Good boy,” she says.
Chapter Nineteen
Now
I leave my suitcase back at the hotel just outside the airport, in the room that I’ve booked for two nights. Between my stop at the bank and my visit to Eddie’s, I return to the hotel and change from the suit I wore to take out the safe deposit box and deposit into it the cash from the wire transfer I accepted there.
In Western countries, men wearing five-thousand-dollar suits and ten-thousand-dollar watches don’t usually earn a second look in a bank. Especially a bank such as this one, who has a very…specialized clientele. But the jeans and sneakers I’m currently wearing damn sure would have met with resistance and extra scrutiny from them.
The suit ensured my transaction was handled quickly, discreetly, and even if they were asked about me later, these people will swear that they can’t recognize me for certain, no matter what their security camera tapes might show.
That’s one of the things Benchley learned about that particular bank before using it for the wire transfer.
They came highly recommended by friends of his.
Elsa’s building is older, not in the best neighborhood, and doesn’t appear to have any CCTV cameras out front. Here, a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit would stand out like a pile of dogshit in a buffet line.
Fortunately, I thought ahead and opted for jeans and sneakers and left the watch in my suitcase. The damp evening is quickly turning chilly, so the jacket I’m wearing to hide the gun doesn’t look out of place. Neither does the knit cap pulled low over my ears. Along with the cheaters I purchased in a drugstore, worn low so I can look over the tops of them, it should be enough to throw anyone off.
I study the building for a few minutes before I time my steps so I hurry and catch and hold of the front door for a woman with two young toddlers and her arms full of groceries. In my other hand, I carry a paper grocery sack with a bottle of vodka in it.
“Guten Abend,” I say as I smile and hold the door for her.
