PIPER'S, Inc.. Joaquin De Torres
Читать онлайн книгу.
he raised into the air a satchel of silver coins, 50,000 of them, and flung it into the licking flames of his roaring fireplace.
With his right hand, he brought a blade up, and sliced open his throat.
Prologue 1
Viceroy Hotel, Miami, FL.
Ocean View Suite, 12th Floor, Room 32
It only takes the slightest touch from the tip of a person’s tongue on the recipient’s mouth to make it open instinctively. There is no thought to this. A subtle hunger; the tingle of anticipation as it rises slowly, waiting to unleash itself after hours, minutes, or moments of sensual restraint. The hairs on the back of the neck bristle as if icy fingers are stroking them; the goose flesh of arousal blossom from the skin instantly. A tongue slides across the crease of your lips and immediately your mouth opens, and your tongue slides out in search of its partner. Both mouths suck each other in, sealing the gap as the tongues explore each other like curious snakes. It’s automatic; it’s primordial.
And it was all happening for multimillionaire, and recent widower Brandon Becks, 45, as the young woman smoothly removed his dinner jacket, undid his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt without breaking the rhythm of her oral attack. The breathing through their nostrils hastened and got louder as the woman’s tongue slid deeper down his throat, then wandered aimlessly throughout his mouth. Becks grew hard instantly. The blood and Sidenafil citrate flowed up his shaft in a confluence of nature and science. He thanked God that he had paid his Pfizer buddy a cool 20 grand for a few vials of the little blue pills just for moments like this one. He popped one into his mouth an hour earlier while he and this goddess were having drinks in the lounge.
The brunette woman, Cherry Snyder, also known as ‘Angel,’ was already naked. With her long, wet tongue slowly exploring the inner crevasses of his mouth, she put her hand on his pants and felt a solid log beneath. She moaned approvingly. She led him slowly to the couch and sat him down, their mouths still hermetically sealed, denying the splashes of saliva from escaping. A few moments passed, then she broke off the suction and stepped back. Becks’ eyes were wide, his anticipation like a teenager whose virginity was about to end within the next few moments.
She stood motionless for his inspection. His eyes scanned her from her beautifully arched feet, up long, pillared legs; a flat, tight stomach; up to her breasts, natural and full. Her shoulders were broad and her entire torso was subtly etched with the lines of muscular fitness. She lifted her head slightly, exposing a long, regal neck. Her medium-length black hair, cut and fashioned meticulously cast a shine like raven’s feathers. Her lips were pouty and fleshy like two ripe pieces of fruit- painted glossy red; and her sharp cheeks, nose and chin seemed more sculpted than evolved.
She stepped forward slowly, patiently, towards him. She knew exactly what she wanted and wondered if he knew what he would get. She stood so that the subtle grooves of her six-pack was only an inch from his face. He could smell the light, citrusy fragrance that permeated from her body. He reached his hands around her hips, held each tight buttock and pulled her gently into his face, pressing into a thick forest of hair. It smelled even better than her skin as he inhaled her natural, clean and musky scent mixed with her perfume. His tongue then entered the curly thicket, wanting to hear her moan with desire. Instead, she pulled back silently, dropped to her knees and looked at the massive snake trying desperately to escape between his legs. He saw this and hurriedly undid his belt, button and zipper. He stood up briefly to shove his pants and underwear down to his ankles as she waited.
He noticed with a man’s pride that her eyes never left his engorged penis. She eyed the thick pole without passion as it stood out and up rigidly. He sat back down and spread his knees wide to let her in. She moved forward and knelt between his legs, grasping his shaft and gently moving her grip up and down. The distance from the base to the tip of the head was at least nine inches, plenty of length to work with. His pleasure increased with her subtle changes in speed and pressure as her hand worked like a soft piston. The fingers of her other hand slid through his pubic hair like a snake through tall grass, finally sliding lower and cupping his bulging scrotum. Becks was already breathing heavily through his nose as he watched; his poise-like his balls-about to rip open at the seams.
“Okay, baby,” he breathed, laying his head back and closing his eyes. “Do your thing. And do it slow. We have all night, and tomorrow, too.” He expected her to answer with promises to make him cum all night; or, that he would not regret agreeing to meet her; or, maybe. . .she would call a friend over later to join the fuck fest. But instead, his heavy breathing, and the warm breeze moving through the open balcony doors were the only sounds he heard. Then the hand-pumping stopped. His eyes still closed, he anticipated her long tongue to begin drenching his balls with gentle laps, and her mouth and throat to descend upon his head like a warm, moist hood. He waited.
Her hand was still gripped on his shaft, but there was no other activity. After another few moments, he raised his head and opened his eyes. What he saw drained the blood from his face and his jaw went slack. Still gripped in Angel’s left hand was his granite-hard cock; but in her right hand was what looked like a seven-inch combat Bowie knife. The blade gleamed as she held it horizontally, its cutting edge just millimeters from the base of his penis. His eyes bulged in fear, but more terrifying were Snyder’s eyes which were cold and indifferent as she stared right through him.
“What the fuck!?” he asked in a trembling voice, eyeing the blade that was held so perfectly still that he couldn’t believe an actual person was holding it. He swallowed deeply as sweat began to bead on his forehead. “Angel, what are you doing?” Her silence unnerved him further; and her lack of movement sent icy volts through his body. But in the silence, he was able to find some sense of control. He brought his opened hands up in front of him, the international sign of surrender, and tried to sit up from his lounged position. She tightened her grip on his penis so hard that he winced in pain.
“Stay where you are,” she ordered, ice crystallizing each word.
“What do you want? Money? Angel, there’s my wallet over there, by your purse. There’s $20,000 in cash in it. Take it. The keys to the Bentley are there, too. Take the car! I can write you a check right now for another 10 grand, anything you want. Just. . .just. . .put the knife down, please.” This seemed to work. She slowly withdrew the knife from his penis. He blew out a long breath of relief. With her fingers, she manipulated the knife so that it was now gripped in her fist, a stabbing grip. His eyes bulged.
“Angel! What are you. . .?” She brought the blade up high. “ANGEL! ANGEL! NOOOOOOOO!!!” She brought the knife down, plunging it into the lip of the couch just inches from his scrotum. He opened his tearing eyes as he whimpered, his body quaking. He saw the knife standing like a gleaming totem pole, embedded in the couch. His penis was also standing, free of her hand. She was still between his legs, but her back was turned slightly away as she reached for something from the large handbag she had brought with her. She was distracted, and he saw his chance. He quickly sat up and reached for the knife, but felt a metallic hammer-blow on his forehead that drove him back into the couch.
“FUCK!” he yelled out in pain while reaching up to his head. He looked back at the woman who was now gripping a pistol in her left hand aimed at his face.
“What the fuck is that!?” he whimpered, knowing that his act had just made a horrible situation worse.
“It’s a Smith & Wesson M&P 9mm Shield,” Snyder replied quietly. She waited as tears began to flood his eyes, his hands opened in front of his chest again.
“Angel, are you going to kill me? Is this what this is? Just like that? You’re just going to murder me?”
“After you had your wife murdered, I don’t see why you would be so surprised?” He shook his head.
“I didn’t murder my wife! She died accidentally from a medical procedure! I was not involved!” Snyder withdrew the pistol from his face, allowing him to breathe a little easier. She regarded him with disgust.
“Your personal doctor claimed that the victim died from an overdose of Botox injections she was administering to herself,