Page 23 of Fox in Plain Sight

“See what you do to me?” he murmured and withdrew, only to thrust back into her with even more force.

“I thought you liked it,” she teased, loving the knowledge that she was driving him wild. She liked this side of him, just as much as she liked his quiet, boy-next-door side.

“I love it,” he confessed, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Too much, in fact. Now you’re gonna pay the price, baby.”

It was a price she had no trouble paying. She loved the way he took her, like a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t take no for an answer. Like a man who was used to his orders being followed. His gruff command to turn around hadn’t turned her off in the least. On the contrary, it aroused her. To be dominated like this turned her on, made her wild, and awakened something primal in her, something entirely female.

“Yes, take me!” she cried out, not caring if that made her sound desperate or submissive. All she wanted was to be taken by him, to feel him pound into her with his cock until neither of them could move any longer.

“Yeah, I’ll take you,” he promised, bringing one hand around her hip to slide it to her front.

A wet finger on her clit made her gasp with pleasure. His hot breath at her ear, whispering to her made her close her eyes in anticipation.

“I’ll fuck you until you come, and then I’ll do it again, and again, and again. Is that what you want, Michelle, me taking you like this?”

“Yes,” she choked out on a shallow breath. “Oh God, yes!”

She lost her ability to form a coherent thought after that. All she felt was Nick’s cock sliding into her from behind, while his fingers strummed her clit as if it were a string instrument he wanted to tease a sound from.

When that sound finally came, it was a relieved outcry bursting from her lips, while her body shuddered under the power of her orgasm. Just before she collapsed, she felt Nick’s cock spasm inside her, a loud moan accompanying his climax.

~ ~ ~

It always started with somebody handing him a tall glass of iced tea. It was no different this time. The hand, wrapped around the inviting beverage, came into view, though the person it belonged to never did.

Nick tried to force his head to turn this time, but his body didn’t obey him. He only saw the cool liquid he so desperately needed and reached for it.

Don’t drink it! he tried to scream to himself. But no sound came over his lips.

Instead, he lifted the glass to his lips and gulped down the ice-cold tea until only ice cubes were left. For a moment he closed his eyes, enjoying the cooling effect the drink had, but it was only temporary.

He knew where he was, and yet he didn’t. The terrace of a large house. A garden beyond. Then the shore. Waves splashing against the narrow strip of sandy beach. An ocean maybe? Or a lake? A large one.

He gazed out onto it, following the ripples on its surface.

Only five sailboats were on the water despite the sunshine and the ample wind that filled their sails and propelled them forward. Why only five when the entire lake should be brimming with activity? When the houses to the left and right all had boat docks, and yachts waiting to be taken out onto the water. To be played with.

Did they know like Nick knew? Did they too sense the impending doom? Had they fled already, knowing it was too late to change the outcome?

“Please don’t do this,” Nick begged.

From behind him, a voice replied, “It’s done.”

But he couldn’t accept that. He had to do what needed to be done.

His laptop sat on the wooden table, several windows open. Green computer code scrolled in one black window so fast, it looked as if it were raining numbers and letters.

His eyes blurred, and he tried to focus them, tried to make sense of it all. But his gaze drifted to the other window, the one that showed a video feed of a large concrete building. The angle was so narrow that he couldn’t make out where the building was located. It could have been in the middle of a city or right in a desert, and Nick wouldn’t have known.

In a third window, a clock was counting backward.

Abort. His lips formed the word automatically. He had to stop it. Save what was there to be saved.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the white sails whizz by him. He spun his head in their direction and saw them fight against the increasing wind. But he knew if he didn’t stop the countdown, they would have to fight against something even stronger than the wind. And they would lose.

“Abort,” he whispered and lifted his hands to the keyboard, noticing all of a sudden how heavy they were, as if filled with lead. Like bricks, they landed on the keys, creating a row of gibberish among the scrolling code.

He willed his pinky to press the escape button to clear his typing, but his finger didn’t move, didn’t execute his brain’s order.