Free Powerplay: Hot Down Under by Lexxie Couper Page B

give you more.”
    Without withdrawing his fingers from her pussy, Sam reached for the bedside drawer, fumbling in its depths even as his other hand twisted and wiggled in his wife’s depths.
    Ah, there it is.
    A grin stretched his lips as he pulled what he sought from the drawer.
    Oh yes. That’s it.
    He ran his grasp up and down the long, thick glass dildo, its surface chilly against the fevered flesh of his palm. “You want more, wife?” He held the dildo before her face, watching her eyes focus on its shiny, transparent shape. “Here’s more.” And before she could even gasp, he dragged its cold tip down over her ribcage and buried it up to the hilt in her sex.
    “Oh yes.” Nicky writhed beneath him on the bed, eyes still closed, face contorted in tormented pleasure.
    The dildo slid in and out of her wet pussy, its smooth surface now slicked with her milky cream. Sam watched as Nicky’s muscles clamped down on its solid length, his blood roaring in his ears. With his free hand he rubbed at her clit, smearing her flawless flesh with the slick product of her pleasure. “Oh Sam,” she moaned, reaching for his hand with hers. She wrapped her fingers around both his wrists, holding him in a vice-like grip. Helping him fuck her with his fingers and the dildo. Christ.
    “I’m going to remove my clothes,” he told her, his throat dry. “You are not going to stop fucking yourself.”
    “I’m not going to stop.”
    “When I’m naked, I’m going to climb onto your chest and you’re going to suck my cock while you continue to fuck the dildo. You will not come until I say so.”
    She whimpered, her fingers digging into the soft underside of his wrists. “Sam, please …”
    Scrabbling backward, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of his wife stabbing her sex with the long, thick rod of glass, Sam stripped his body of its clothes. Boxers, tie, shirt, socks …
    Nicky’s eyes opened and, through thick, lowered lashes, she watched him. Watched him watching her.
    When he was naked, cock straining for the heavens, a glistening drip of pre-cum squeezing from the tip, he climbed back onto the bed. He moved slowly, knees on either side of his wife’s body. Past her hips, her waist. Past her ribs until the sides of her breasts brushed against the sides of his legs. His cock jutted from the dense matt of hair at the juncture of his thighs, eager. Waiting for her mouth. “Open up, honey,” he almost snarled. “I’m home …”

Chapter Two
     
     
    Tellerman scaled the fallen carcass of an old eucalypt, his sights set on the faint light in the distance. The spring moon sat low in the sky, thin and pale, throwing very little illumination on the land around him. He didn’t know how far he’d come since crawling out of the transport van wreckage but it wasn’t far enough. The accident would have been reported by now, which meant “they” would be out looking for him. The body of the transport driver would be found first, twisted and broken by the overturned vehicle, his keys nowhere to be found.
    His Glock would be equally missing.
    The guard’s body would be found next, rammed into the crumpled space of the front right wheel arch. Also missing his Glock.
    Tellerman needed to get out of the open.
    A breeze—soft and smelling of fresh earth and wet grass—played over his naked body. It felt like a million kisses on his flesh and, despite the situation, his cock began to pump full of blood.
    A groan rumbled low in his throat.
    The desire to stop moving, to lean against the trunk of the fallen tree and take his own much-needed release into his hands was overwhelming. A quick pull and he could be off again.
    And leave a spurt of cum in the dirt for the sniffer dogs to find?
His hands curled into painful fists.
Think, Tellerman, think. Two years of planning and sixty minutes of freedom down the drain because you couldn’t control your fucking cock?
    He trained his eyes on the beckoning beacon of light on the