Crossing the Line by Jordan Bobe Page A

still closed tightly. Her movement ushered him deeper still.
    Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her nails dug lightly into the muscular flesh of his shoulders. He grunted as another orgasm passed through her loins, causing her muscles to nearly strangle the life right out of his cock.
    It didn’t take long for the romantic love making to lose his interest. He appreciated sex with a bit more of an edge. He pulled out and rubbed his cock against her thigh, leaving behind a slick streak of her juices to glisten in the light of the moon.
    “Hey, bitch,” he said. She moaned something incomprehensible in return. Frustrated he smacked her across the tit. A bright red handprint was left behind. She still did not wake up, but a deep frown came to her face.
    He was preparing to smack her again when he heard something move on the shoreline. He looked in the direction of the noise and for a moment he saw a huge, hunkering form staring out from between two massive trees.
    He reached over and picked up one of his pistols. The gun had a laser attached to the barrel to make it easier to draw a bead on the target. He flipped the red dot on and aimed the gun in the direction of the peeper. Whatever he had seen in the woods was gone, though.
    He decided there hadn’t been anything there to begin with. Nothing of that stature could have moved away without making a sound. He was imagining things.
    Once he realized he had been spooked by an overactive imagination he felt a nagging sensation. His father had always said his imagination would get him killed someday. Every beating he suffered as a child had something to do with his imagination. The worst of all of the beatings was when his father caught him playing that he was a cop.
    No son of mine is going to grow up to be a fucking pig. If that’s what you want tell me right now so I can put a bullet in your head before you embarrass me.
    He had only been eight years old, but he had decided that day that he would be twice the thug his father ever was. If the old fuck was going to threaten to kill him he would make sure the piece of shit went to the grave knowing that his son was better than him.
    And then there was this little bitch. She thought he was so insignificant that she could sleep straight through him fucking her. Well, she had another thing coming. He grabbed her roughly around the throat with one hand and punched her in the crotch with the other.
    Ivy’s eyes opened wide with the sudden sharp pain. She would have screamed if not for the constriction of her esophagus. Fritz picked back up the gun and aimed it down at her gasping face. “You’re going to be a good girl and do exactly what I tell you, aren’t you?”
    Ivy nodded her head enthusiastically. Fritz smiled down at her. “That’s a good girl. My friends are in the house with the other bitches, so screaming isn’t going to do you a fucking bit of good. I’m going to let go of your throat and we’re going to have a little discussion. If you scream it’s going to piss me off and, believe me, you don’t want to piss me off.”
    Ivy nodded her head in understanding. Fritz released his hold on her throat and gave her a light pat on the cheek. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”
    “Please, don’t hurt me,” Ivy sobbed.
    “Oh, baby, it’s going to hurt like hell. But if you’re good and let me do what I want it might not kill you.”
    “Okay, okay, you can do whatever you want.”
    “Well, ain’t that just the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me? You know what I want first?”
    “What’s that?”
    “A blowjob. A damn good blowjob. I want you to go deep throat. And while you do I want you to fuck yourself. You’d better keep that tight little pussy of yours good and wet because dry fucking isn’t fun for anyone.”
    “I have a really bad gag reflex, but I will do my best.”
    “I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship. What’s your name, sugar?”
    “Ivy.”
    “Okay, Ivy.