Chapter Twenty-Six #3
It takes longer than expected. Well over an hour, I’m waiting… rather impatiently. Drinking more scotch than I normally would, attempting to catch up on some reading, though I simply cannot concentrate on anything while I’m expecting company.
Eventually, Kent comes down with the young man, who is flushed and visibly disheveled. Kent leaves without a word, and Soren watches him go, shifting on his feet in the middle of my library.
He’s wearing only some skimpy briefs and an oversized cut-off t-shirt that I’m unsure is his, or Jonathan’s.
Skin pale, hair silvery blonde, eyes mossy green.
He shares several features with Dascha Reznikov, though Soren is slimmer with fewer tattoos, painted fingernails and some charcoal makeup smudged around his eyes.
Soren Van Arlen has been one of the consistent visitors to the mansion since we began recruiting favors. Simply put, he’s the perfect toy. No expectations, casually free-spirited, and just as damaged as everyone else on this island.
Not to mention the type of slender beauty that reminds me of…
Dios, por favor… Basta.
It’s fucking constant.
I need a distraction. Now.
“Good evening, Sin,” I hum, sipping from my glass before holding it out to him. “Want a sip?”
He bites his lip, nodding. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
He strides forward, tentative steps from long, limber legs. Handing him the glass, I watch as he takes a slow sip, the mound dipping in his slender throat.
I pat my thigh, and he needs no further instruction. He comes, taking a graceful seat on my lap.
“Did you have fun with Officer Chevelle tonight?” My fingers brush tenderly through his hair.
I feel him stiffen, likely out of nervous uncertainty as to why I’d be asking him this, and if there’s an answer I’m looking for, versus one that will get him in trouble.
But I think he knows me well enough by now, because he relaxes and nods. “Yes, sir. I always do.”
“Good boy.” I drop a hand onto his knee. “You were in there for quite some time…”
He drops his chin to peek at me. My hand glides, ever so slowly, from his knee up his thigh. Just a few inches. But it’s enough to have him pressing his legs together.
“One of those nights… I guess,” he whispers, voice growing raspier by the second.
My hand travels further up his leg, fingers slinking in between as I breathe by his ear. “You must be worn out.”
His lashes flutter, legs parting an inch to let me in, before he clamps them shut again.
“I’m, um… sorry.” He’s all flustered, face blushed pink. It’s adorably enticing.
It also sets my teeth on edge with memories I’m fighting off like a soldier at battle.
Soren clears his throat. “I didn’t get to… freshen up yet. Kent wouldn’t let me—”
“Mmm, bend over,” I growl the command into his ear, licking the shell while squeezing his thigh hard, in an attempt to control myself.
Soren shoots me a puzzled look, clutching the glass in his hands.
I take it from him, setting it down on the table. Then I give him a gentle nudge, sort of pushing his hips to get him moving.
“Stand up and bend over, sweet Sinner. I don’t like waiting.”
The kid still looks bemused, but he stands, facing away from me. Then he bends at the waist, displaying his plump ass, barely contained by his tiny panties. I waste no time sliding them down his legs, grabbing his thighs to spread them further apart.
“Wider,” I hum, and he does, trembling a bit.
I can feel it. See it even more with him so close and exposed.
Giving him a few cherishing caresses, I croon, “You don’t have to be so tight, darling. I want to see you…”
He lets out a soft sound, like a breathy whine. But then I see his muscles relaxing before me. I groan, deep, from within my chest, hands gliding up the backs of his thighs to cup his cheeks.
“That’s it, mi amor,” I purr. “Show me what he did to you.” My index fingertip brushes over his hole. It clenches, but eases up for me. “Show me how he left you, Sinner. Let me see this hole, all nice and used up.”
“Mmff…”
My finger continues to circle and trace, eyes marveling at the sight of him opening.
Fuck… si.
“Did he stretch you open with his big cock?” I whisper hoarsely.
“Uhh… uh-huh,” he whimpers.
My fingers graze it again. “Did he shove himself in here, over and over, for as long as it took?”
“Y-yes.” He’s panting, and I get it.
The feeling is mutual.
Dios… so so hot.
I want to… feel.
I force my middle fingertip in, and he accepts it, hole slick and shiny with remnants of lubrication. Gasping, he reaches back to steady himself on my knee.
“Oh, baby, look at that,” I trill. “Sucking me right in… Desperate for more cock, si?”
He’s trembling head to toe. “Yea… unnghh yes yes yes!”
Fuck yea…
I want to feel the cum he left inside.
Soren is mewling like a kitten while I stuff my finger in deeper, pulling back then pushing in up to the knuckle.
But something slows my movements…
My brows furrow. “Did he come in you?”
“Mhmm…” He moans.
I stop moving. “He did?”
“Yes.”
“Officer Chevelle came in your ass?” My tone has taken on a lilt of skepticism.
Soren is still breathy as he replies, “Uh-huh…”
My gaze narrows at his backside. I peek around at his face, flushed, eyes lidded, lips quivering.
But he’s not lying. I can tell.
“Are you sure?”
He pauses, eyes creeping open. “Yea… why?”
Ignoring him, I stuff two fingers in, and swirl them around. He whines a garbled sound.
“You didn’t use the bathroom, or push it out?” I continue to grill him, gently of course, because I honestly don’t believe he’s being deceptive. What would be the motive?
Soren squirms like he’s embarrassed, but mumbles, “I only, um… took a piss real quick. I was going to shower, but I didn’t get a chance to…”
I’m bewildered right now.
There’s no cum in him. He’s not wet at all, save for some residual lube leftovers. But otherwise… nada.
Definitely not the full load to be expected from someone like Jonathan filling this ass up.
I’m reaching deep, stuffing my fingers in as far as they’ll go while Soren is gradually rocking back against my hand, greedy for the sensation. But I can’t even concentrate on that. I’m just searching desperately…
Why would he say that Jonathan came in him if he didn’t?
They were definitely fucking. He’s worn out for sure—that I can feel—and Kent was up there waiting on them for a while.
“Did he make you come?” I probe while probing him.
“Yes,” he answers, breathy. “I was wearing a cock ring, but he took it off and told me to come. And then he c-came right after.” He’s clearly enjoying the sensitivity from my fingering, though anxiously he asks, “Why…? What’s wrong?”
I’m barely listening. Too busy reeling…
Did Jonathan… fake it?
Why would he do that??
It doesn’t seem like something he would do at all.
He’s been having casual sex on this island for years.
There would be no conceivable reason for him to fake orgasms. He sleeps with Soren on a semi-regular basis, and not that I’m involved in the details, but from what I understand, they both enjoy themselves.
So why, this time, would he fake it?
My stomach rolls.
Unless… Maybe he couldn’t come with Soren because he was thinking about someone else.
“Nothing is wrong, sweet Sin,” I finally answer Soren, gruffly, clearing my throat.
Unbuckling my belt, I open my pants and take my dick out. I grab some lube from the table drawer, squeezing it onto my cock, stroking to get it nice and wet.
“Would you like another hot load, sweetheart?”
Soren mewls. “Yes, please…”
Grabbing his hips, I pull him down until he’s seated on my cock, his head dropping back, a ragged cry leaving his lips. I grab a fitful of his shirt and use it to hold him steady.
“Bounce on it, Sinner,” I rasp, my head spinning. “Wrap that hole around another thick cock.”
“Uhhfuck… so… good,” he gasps, gripping my thighs to work his hips on me.
Sweating, I’m burning through my dress shirt, chest heaving while my balls thrum with the poignant pleasure of being in this hole…
I’m inside… where he… just was…
If I fuck deep enough, I could feel him.
Tearing my shirt open, I grip his hips hard, holding him close. Soren groans, and I return it, helping him pump his hole up and down on my rigid cock. Giving him every inch, my eyes flutter shut and my head drops back. While I try perilously to feel him through this body.
Uhh, fuck, let me feel you, my pet…
Though in the back of my mind, I’m troubled knowing he didn’t actually get off. Why not?
What has you up in your head, Officer?
I’m reminded of the night that he came down here… Crept in the dark to kneel at my feet. But when Harley showed up, he became suddenly apprehensive.
What is it about him, my pet, that has you so… tense?
Despite the precarious thoughts, I still come—no trouble reaching a climax here.
Weight of the world on my shoulders, head swimming with vexation for missing little birds and errant guard dogs.
And yet I’m still able to shoot it into Soren’s body, flooding his overused hole with at least one hot, slippery orgasm.
Kissing his neck and back while I come down, reaching around to fist his cock and stroke him until he comes.
Panting for breath, I’m fuzzy, wondering about the implications of having a second in command who’s so distracted.
I can’t lie, I’m fanboying just a little.
It might be embarrassing if I weren’t just so damn excited.
We finally tracked him down…
Dr. Melvin Strange.
From the moment I scored The Carver, I knew I needed to get someone in here to study him. The way I wish I could…
Johansson is good at what he does, but he’s not necessarily a behavioral psychologist. He’s top notch when it comes to the experiments, but he isn’t one I’d trust to properly examine someone like Felix Darcey.