Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,2
I noted a speck of blood under his nose, as though he’d had another nosebleed on the way, but by the time we’d all made it around the huge conference table that small spot of blood had been joined by many, many others, and was forming in a pool on the floor. Everything else—the clients, the creative work and the shoot we were prepping for—ceased to exist while the three of us focused on Raine.
Sadly, our undivided attention had been long past due, and it was more than likely a case of too little, too late. Yes, the signs had been there, and yes, we’d ignored them until the point where the situation had become critical. If it turned out that it was really too late, and we’d have to bury our best friend, then his blood—gallons and gallons of it—would be on our hands, and it would never wash off.
Chapter 1
Raine
* * *
Four months earlier
* * *
As the woman writhed on top of me, I focused on the pleasant jiggle of her high, firm tits. Tits I’d snorted coke from a little while earlier. Tits I’d sucked, licked and bitten. Speaking of which, I took a nipple into my mouth again and sucked down hard. Her body bucked in response, and I wasn’t surprised. Her nipple was hard as a pebble, and I’d realized earlier, extremely sensitive to touch.
As she swirled her hips, her ultra-wet pussy tightened around my dick. Jesus, that felt good. I sucked harder, and as I predicted, she ground into me more firmly, jamming her knees into the chair on either side of me.
The Cowgirl had always been a favorite position of mine, and as she rode me, I was reminded why. Apart from the fantastic view of her perky tits, it also had me buried achingly deep inside her. I loved the feeling of her hitting the hilt time and time again.
I zoned everything out apart from that feeling—not that there was much going on in my head other than that anyway. I was too high and too wasted to think coherently, thank God. Mission accomplished yet again.
My revolving diet of women, booze, weed and blow kept me right where I wanted to be most of the time—lucid enough to function at work, and still pull out the big guns creatively, but out of it enough not to have to deal with the thoughts racing around my head. In fact, if I played my cards right, like tonight, there were no thoughts, and that was perfect.
I pushed faster and harder, chasing my climax—easier said than done after as much coke as I’d smashed all night and into the morning. It was great for stamina—I could go for hours if I wanted to—not so great for release. Not that I hadn’t had plenty of practice, I’d pretty much mastered the art of coming on coke, but I had to play it just right, and not lose focus.
As I hit the tipping point, and felt the telltale tightening in my balls, I smiled to myself. Coming was one of my favorite things in the world. There were no drugs or drinks that gave me quite the same high—short-lived though it invariably was.
I released the nipple I was sucking on with a satisfying pop and tilted my head to rest on the back of my chair, slamming my eyes closed to ride the final waves of the build-up, before the crash down to the big O. It was so close I could practically taste it.
So... Close... Just... A... Few... More...
A loud noise pierced my consciousness, and it took a few moments to work out what it was—a sharp rap on the door. I ignored it. I was too close to turn back. Plus, whatever or whoever it was could wait. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so it was likely to be some kind of bullshit, anyway.
I screwed my eyelids together and gripped the thighs straddling me as tightly as I could, using all my might to lift and lower them, increasing the pace each time. I concentrated hard on coming, and within a few seconds was back to where I had been before the door knocked. A few more seconds, and I was over the edge, and so was my friend. We came noisily and in unison.
I was still panting through my release when the door knocked again. For the fucking love of God. I had a feeling that whatever, and whoever, was on the other side of