Insatiable - Chapter 1 - Under Her Spell - Sex Stories

Insatiable - Chapter 1 - Under Her Spell

... cold plasma made her horny. Irresistibly so. It worked that way for all her sisters. Sadie pressed him down and Tristan knelt before her. She hiked up the long skirt of her dress and tossed it over the top of his head. His gimp form disappeared below her crimson curtain.

Sadie moaned as she felt his warm mouth press onto her fat length. He enveloped her with eager lips, her glans finding the back of his velvety throat in record time. He sucked and slurped away, working his face back and forth as her hot flesh filled his mouth and beyond. Sadie let out a second, louder moan, resting her hands on her hips as her head tilted backward.

'Great...' she thought to herself as another one of their marathon sessions began. 'There goes the afternoon.'

* * * * *

“How long are we gonna just sit out here?!?” the feisty young Latina piped up.

“Until we notice something useful or find someone to tail” Reynauld answered calmly before taking a sip of his coffee.

Their rented car had been parked outside the compound for thirty minutes and they'd seen nothing of note, so far. Patience was not a virtue his partner of circumstance had in great abundance, but it was important she learn that tedium was part of the job. Hunting monsters was ninety eight percent research and surveillance. Time spent in libraries, hotels, vehicles and hiding spots. Only the other two percent was violence and that was for the best.

Reynauld knew it better than most as the survivor of more than a ...

... few close calls. The scar trailing from his upper left forehead across his nose and down to his lower right cheek was evidence of that. The occasional streaks of white in his stubble had only recently bestowed him with the 'salt and pepper' look as he entered middle age.

His reserved demeanor and the slow cadence of his gravelly voice projected the relaxed tenor of a man who was never in a hurry, unless he needed to be. The khaki trench coat and army-green cargo pants spoke of an individual who dressed for utility.

Rosa, by contrast, was fresh faced and energetic. He didn't know much about her, but she couldn't be much older than her late twenties. A pretty young woman; her thick, dark hair was pulled back in an elegant pony tail and her brown eyes shimmered with warmth. Reynauld's own steely, light blue orbs traced her slim form up and down, studying their organization's newest acolyte. She was quite the looker in her black jeans, short, red leather jacket and tight white t-shirt.

“And what makes you so sure they're here?”

“I'm not sure” he retorted, reaching up to the dashboard. He opened a manila folder and pulled out a flyer, handing it to her. “But this is a pretty good lead.”

Rosa took the small poster and studied it briefly. It showed men in tuxedos, women in elegant dresses and others in leather and latex fetish attire. Several submissive male forms were in bondage and one woman in deepest red stood defiantly, mouth open and blood dripping from her ...