electrifying orifices. She beat out a steady counterpoint, driving them both over the edge to the white heat of oblivion.
With one final thrust he surrendered control, letting her stunning body close around him, driving away all reason, sucking every last drop from his cock. He felt her orgasm hot on the heels of his own and was dragged back to the brink to take one final look into the pit of pleasure as her body drew him in hungrily. It felt as if she might be able to swallow him whole, consume him in the wild beast that throbbed between her legs.
Snorting, breathless, sweat pouring down his face, he withdrew and collapsed back into an armchair. She turned round slowly and murmured the one word he understood from the all the year's they had been together.
"Maestro."
She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled onto the mat alongside the hearth. In front of the last embers of the fire she stretched out and closed her ginger eyes; a sleek wild cat exhausted and well fed after a long day's hunt. Johnson smiled to himself and picked up the report he had been reading.
Peter Howard looked at the computer screen in the ward clerk's office and cursed. 'Access denied.' It seemed as if everyone really did believe he was dead. He tapped in another code sequence; he wanted to connect up to a relatively secure corner of the computer network before he dared to try and open Magenta. His body complained, he was exhausted. He leant back and rubbed his eyes as Angela Ruskin appeared with a mug of coffee.
"Someone will be coming soon." She handed him the mug. "How's it going?"
Peter snorted as the computer denied him again. "I can't do it," he said, tapping in another access code. "There are other ways in but I need the time to chase around, back track, find a back door – shit – how long before I can leave hospital?"
Angela pulled a face. "Four or five days I guess."
Peter groaned. "Oh well…" He stopped mid sentence as a message scrolled up onto the screen. "Oh, my god!"
Angela read the message over his shoulder. 'They have Emily' She leant closer. "Emily?"
"My girl friend," he said flatly. He looked at her and decided upon honesty. "We plan to get married."
Angela didn't bat an eyelid. "And who has her?"
Peter sighed and ran his fingers back through his dark hair. "Some people who could do her an awful lot of harm. They want something I have. I have to get out of the hospital, I just have to! Can't I just walk out?"
Angela snorted. "Don't you mean just wheel out? Your body isn't much up to walking yet." She paused thoughtfully. "You basically just need rest and recuperation, you could discharge yourself into a nursing home."
Peter looked thoughtful. "Would that take long to arrange? I'd need computer access, arrange for some funds -"
Angela grinned. "Actually, I had a better idea. There are dozens of nursing homes in this area. No-one would be that interested in checking up on you. To be honest they'd be pleased to have the bed back. Why don't you come home with me? I could help you cook up a fictitious nursing home place for the forms -" She paused, eyes alight.
It was Peter's turn to grin. "And?"
She lifted her skirt slowly to reveal the ripe red hair around her quim. "Perhaps you will do me a favour. Didn't you say you would teach me discipline, like at Deuvar?"
Peter nodded. No harm in that!
Angela placed a form in front of him. She had been well prepared, it seemed. "Better fill this in then, Mr Roberts."
"Are you serious about taking care of me?"
"I've got a fortnight's holiday due to me. I'll ring in tomorrow night and say my mother is sick."
Peter lifted an eyebrow.
Angela grinned. "Well, all the others do it. About time I had some too."
Peter slid his hands up her thighs; they were warm to the touch. "Some of what?" he whispered darkly.
She wriggled around so that his fingers slid effortlessly into the thick matt of hair around her quim. He pressed deeper, sliding inside her, feeling the wet
With one final thrust he surrendered control, letting her stunning body close around him, driving away all reason, sucking every last drop from his cock. He felt her orgasm hot on the heels of his own and was dragged back to the brink to take one final look into the pit of pleasure as her body drew him in hungrily. It felt as if she might be able to swallow him whole, consume him in the wild beast that throbbed between her legs.
Snorting, breathless, sweat pouring down his face, he withdrew and collapsed back into an armchair. She turned round slowly and murmured the one word he understood from the all the year's they had been together.
"Maestro."
She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled onto the mat alongside the hearth. In front of the last embers of the fire she stretched out and closed her ginger eyes; a sleek wild cat exhausted and well fed after a long day's hunt. Johnson smiled to himself and picked up the report he had been reading.
Peter Howard looked at the computer screen in the ward clerk's office and cursed. 'Access denied.' It seemed as if everyone really did believe he was dead. He tapped in another code sequence; he wanted to connect up to a relatively secure corner of the computer network before he dared to try and open Magenta. His body complained, he was exhausted. He leant back and rubbed his eyes as Angela Ruskin appeared with a mug of coffee.
"Someone will be coming soon." She handed him the mug. "How's it going?"
Peter snorted as the computer denied him again. "I can't do it," he said, tapping in another access code. "There are other ways in but I need the time to chase around, back track, find a back door – shit – how long before I can leave hospital?"
Angela pulled a face. "Four or five days I guess."
Peter groaned. "Oh well…" He stopped mid sentence as a message scrolled up onto the screen. "Oh, my god!"
Angela read the message over his shoulder. 'They have Emily' She leant closer. "Emily?"
"My girl friend," he said flatly. He looked at her and decided upon honesty. "We plan to get married."
Angela didn't bat an eyelid. "And who has her?"
Peter sighed and ran his fingers back through his dark hair. "Some people who could do her an awful lot of harm. They want something I have. I have to get out of the hospital, I just have to! Can't I just walk out?"
Angela snorted. "Don't you mean just wheel out? Your body isn't much up to walking yet." She paused thoughtfully. "You basically just need rest and recuperation, you could discharge yourself into a nursing home."
Peter looked thoughtful. "Would that take long to arrange? I'd need computer access, arrange for some funds -"
Angela grinned. "Actually, I had a better idea. There are dozens of nursing homes in this area. No-one would be that interested in checking up on you. To be honest they'd be pleased to have the bed back. Why don't you come home with me? I could help you cook up a fictitious nursing home place for the forms -" She paused, eyes alight.
It was Peter's turn to grin. "And?"
She lifted her skirt slowly to reveal the ripe red hair around her quim. "Perhaps you will do me a favour. Didn't you say you would teach me discipline, like at Deuvar?"
Peter nodded. No harm in that!
Angela placed a form in front of him. She had been well prepared, it seemed. "Better fill this in then, Mr Roberts."
"Are you serious about taking care of me?"
"I've got a fortnight's holiday due to me. I'll ring in tomorrow night and say my mother is sick."
Peter lifted an eyebrow.
Angela grinned. "Well, all the others do it. About time I had some too."
Peter slid his hands up her thighs; they were warm to the touch. "Some of what?" he whispered darkly.
She wriggled around so that his fingers slid effortlessly into the thick matt of hair around her quim. He pressed deeper, sliding inside her, feeling the wet
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