Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
This is my first submission to the site. I hope you enjoy it.
Back-to-back shifts suck ass.
I tromp up the front walk of one of the more expensive homes on the wealthier side of town, answering a burglary call that came in exactly twenty minutes before I would have gotten off work and gone home to sleep. Of course.
The place is a little unusual–no lights out front, dark curtains in the windows, plenty of shadows for a thief to hide in. It’s like the owner is asking for a robbery. When I ring the bell, the rich, resonant chimes remind me of funereal music.
The door creaks open on rusty hinges, and I’m surprised by a woman in a long, black skirt and a white, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Long, fire-engine red hair curls in soft waves over the exposed tops of her breasts; her green eyes catch the flickering lights of a dozen or so candles set in holders along the entry hall.
“Come in, Officer . . .?”
“Del. It’s Ashlyn Del. But everyone calls me Ash.” Why the hell did I tell her that? Yeah, everyone does call me Ash, but by everyone, I mean my friends. I don’t even know this woman. I must be a lot more tired than I thought.
“Ash, then,” she purrs in a rich, sultry voice. “I’m Gen.” Turning, she leads the way down the short hall, through a door on the right and into what could only be described as a parlor, complete with curvy, antique couches and chairs, velvet coverings, and that old-fashioned wallpaper with the patterns that actually stick out so they can be touched, stroked. My eyes are drawn to a collection of crystals on a side table, reflecting the light of more candles scattered about the room. It’s a star configuration of multi-colored gem-like stones, but one seems to be missing from the topmost point. When Gen faces me, she must catch some expression on my face because she says, “I’m a romantic at heart. This room is the reason I bought the place. I remodeled almost everything else, but I kept this room as it is.”
“It’s, um, very feminine.”
“And not your taste at all,” she says, smiling.
“Actually,” I say, letting my eyes linger on her bare shoulders, the trim waist, the curve of her hips, “I like some feminine things . . . “
“That’s good to know,” she says, seating herself on the lavender velvet couch and crossing one leg over the other. “Now, about the robbery . . . “
I shake my head, clearing away the sudden fogginess in my brain. “Right.” Reaching into my uniform pocket, I pull out my notepad and a pen.
She laughs, the sound like the tinkling of crystals hanging from a chandelier and caught in a soft breeze. “Not very high tech, are you?”
I shrug. “I like to keep things simple. So, can you tell me what happened, and what was stolen?”
Gen nods, her hair falling across her forehead, a strand dropping into her eyes. I have the strongest urge to tuck the wayward curl behind her ear, and I just manage to keep my hand to myself.
“I came home from a meeting of the–. From a meeting. I suppose I forgot canlı bahis to lock the parlor window. It was open when I arrived.” She points at it, still open, the black curtain billowing in the wind of an approaching storm. “At first I didn’t notice anything amiss, but then I saw the empty space on the table. One of my crystals was gone.”
I walk over to the window, study the sill, the locks, the frame and curtains. No sign of forced entry, so she must be correct that she left it open. Foolish, but shit happens. I cross back to the display of crystals I noticed earlier. They don’t look like precious stones, just multi-faceted, cut glass, each a different color, with the largest crystals forming the points of the five-pointed star, and smaller ones filling in the connecting lines. “Was it worth much?” I ask, facing her.
“Monetarily? No. Sentimentally, yes. It’s worth a great deal.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. Crap, it must have been some kind of family heirloom or something.
“Look, I’ll do everything I can to get it back for you. It’ll probably turn up in a pawn shop in the next few days. Let me just get a description of it so I can have the local stores on the lookout.” Even as I say it, it doesn’t really make sense. Why would someone come into an expensive home to steal one crystal, worthless to anyone but its owner? Still, I make a few notes on my pad and wait for her response.
“Oh, I can show you exactly what it looks like. The one at the bottom point of the star is its twin.” She points one manicured, red fingernail at the display.
I reach for the one she indicates, then hesitate. “May I?” I ask. If they’re all so important to her, I’d hate to touch it without her permission.
“Please . . . ” she says, her voice breathier than before.
I keep one eye on her as I go to pick it up. Her chest rises and falls with her increased breathing, and I’d swear her nipples are hard beneath that thin, white peasant blouse. When my fingers close around the crystal, the same shade of red as her hair and nails, her sharp intake of breath almost startles me into dropping it.
Crossing quickly to her, the stone clutched in my palm, I drop to one knee on the rich, purple carpeting. “Are you all right?”
“I am now,” Gen says, her gaze locking with mine. She reaches out, her delicate hand covering my own, the crystal digging grooves into my palm.
Electric heat tingles from her skin to mine to the crystal and back again. The room swims, my balance falters, and I end up on my ass, legs spread, staring up at her. “What the–?” Heat pools at my core. My small nipples harden to painful points beneath my uniform shirt.
“Relax, Ash,” she says, climbing from the couch, lowering herself to her knees between my legs. Her hand never releases mine. She’s still holding me to the crystal which seems to pulse to the same rhythm of my racing heart. “You look tired,” she says. Her free hand brushes a strand of my dark hair from my eyes. “And you’re warm. So warm.”
Now bahis siteleri that she mentions it, I do feel hot, almost feverish. Beads of sweat gather on my forehead. I must be coming down with something.
“Here,” Gen says. “Let me make you more comfortable.” Her fingers go to the buttons on my shirt, working them open with some difficulty since she’s one-handed, the other keeping my hand on the pulsing crystal. I should be stopping her, but I’m so, so hot, and the cool air of the room hitting my skin as she works each button free feels so good. She manages to open the shirt fully, then slips my free arm out of the sleeve, leaving the other covered. Her eyes wander over my white cotton sports bra, the nipples straining at the stretchy fabric. Her fingers tweak first one, then the other through my bra. I suck in air through my teeth at the pleasure/pain.
“Yesss,” I hiss, letting my head drop back.
She chuckles softly. Her fingers wander behind me, unfastening my hooks in a practiced maneuver. I struggle with bras when I’ve got two hands. She gets mine off with one, again slipping one of my arms free and leaving the bra hanging from the other along with the sleeve of my shirt. Part of me wonders why we don’t just put the crystal down. It would make everything so much easier. But the rest of me is much too distracted to complain.
Her mouth goes immediately to my bare breasts, lips closing over one nipple while her fingers toy with the other, then switching off until both are glistening with moisture. The room is much cooler without my shirt, and when she blows across my wet nipples, they harden even further and goosebumps flare across each breast.
By now I’m panting and I can feel the moisture soaking into my cotton panties, the wet fabric creating delicious friction with each involuntary shifting of my hips across the carpet. “Easy, easy,” Gen whispers, grasping my waist, holding me still. “We’ll get you there. Just relax.” Leaning in, her lips meet mine, her tongue teasing, testing, until I allow it entry. It dances with my tongue, darts in and out. My hips resume their motion.
“Been awhile for you, has it?” she asks, a note of sympathy in her voice.
It has, though I won’t admit it. My last girlfriend dumped me for a guy. Made me feel worthless. But I’m feeling pretty valuable now.
A tug at my waist turns my gaze downward. She’s working my belt loose, one-handed, another impressive feat. Nimble fingers pop the button, lower the zipper. Then she’s slipping her fingers inside. The pads of her fingers smooth across the top of my underwear, lingering over the wet spot I’ve made, pressing down a bit, then rubbing in gentle circles. I can’t suppress a moan. She scratches the fabric with her long nails. Desperate to give her better access, I raise my hips and yank at my uniform slacks with my one free hand, getting them over my backside and down to my knees after some moves worthy of a freaking gymnast.
“Hey,” I groan, “do you think maybe we could let go of bahis şirketleri the–?”
“Shh.” She removes her hand, placing one finger on my lips to quiet me. It’s wet from my arousal, and I smell my scent on her fingertip. “Trust me. You don’t want to let go of it. Not yet.”
“But why? I don’t understand.” I cry out as she returns her hand to where I want it most, this time sliding inside my soaked panties.
“You will,” Gen whispers, resuming her stroking touch. One finger slides between my swollen lips, spreading my moisture, while her thumb circles my clit then flicks it from side to side. In my hand, the crystal pulses harder and faster. I want to touch her, too, to ease that shirt further down her shoulders, reveal her breasts, but I have to brace myself with my one free hand. My fingers dig into the carpet behind me, the muscles of that arm rigid or I’ll fall back. When her finger slips inside me, then begins moving in and out, I growl deep and low in my throat.
“Are you close, Ash? Do you want to cum?”
“God, yes. Please . . . “
She adds a second finger inside. My hips thrust upward, driving them hard and deep. I can feel myself clenching around them. Her thumb works faster on my clit.
“So close, so ready,” Gen purrs.
My chest rises and falls. My heart pounds. My lips part as I gasp for air. I’m moaning constantly now, and whimpering low in my throat. I’m so desperate for release and it’s been so long. And suddenly, she’s moving our joined hands between my legs, crystal and all, the faceted gem pulsing and pulsing almost vibrating . . .
It presses my stomach, just above my mound. My hand slips free and I throw it behind myself to help support me upright, but it doesn’t matter. The crystal is still in contact with my skin. And I realize, that’s what it needs. That’s what I need.
Gen slides the crystal inside my panties, replacing her thumb with it on my clit. The cool, smooth glass feels so good, slipping and sliding over my swollen nub as my hips rock. And it’s pulsing . . . pulsing . . . oh god . . . so good . . .
My muscles clench, gripping the two fingers inside me. I bear down on them, pressing them in as deep as they can drive. Pulsing . . . pulsing . . . like it has a life of its own, the crystal pounds against my so-sensitive clit.
With a wordless cry, I release, cumming and cumming, pouring over her fingers still deep within me. She doesn’t let me stop, instead pulling her fingers free and pressing the crystal to my opening. It takes me over the edge a second time. My arms can no longer hold me up, and I flop backwards onto the carpeting, panting and moaning, completely exhausted.
At last, she removes the crystal and lies down beside me, stroking my forehead, my shoulders, my stomach, not sexually, just comfortingly until I calm and my breathing returns to normal.
“So,” Gen says at last, propping herself on one elbow to look down at my tired but satisfied face, “do you see why that other stolen crystal means so much to me? And why it would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands?”
Oh yeah. I can definitely see the problems it could cause. “I’ll get right on it,” I assure her, “just as soon as I’m able to get off this floor.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32