cool against him, or maybe he was just burning up.
Layla’s hands dropped to his waist and fumbled with his trousers, pulling them off to reveal his hard erection. She caressed his cock, gently, then gave him a little shove and pushed him to the couch.
Unbalanced, Walker fell backwards onto the leather cushions and lay unmoving, his head spinning. The semi-dark room seemed to shift and twist impossibly, and bright spots of colour flashed across his eyes. Then Layla was on top of him, straddling his hips with her legs.
She leaned down and kissed his forehead and eyes, her full breasts just below his mouth. He tried to reach them and suck at her nipples but she forced him back, her mouth licking his nose and moving down to wet his lips. She readjusted herself and slid lower, nuzzling his neck and biting his skin, then lower again to his abdomen.
Walker laid back and closed his eyes as her hands reached his groin, cupping his testicles. He could hear his own breathing become more ragged, like a massive fever had broken through the barriers and was now raging across his body. His legs were leaden, and he could hardly feel his feet and hands.
Layla’s tongue flicked around the base of his cock, teasing, then she gave him a soft bite higher along the shaft, working her way towards the tip. He sighed, a deep rumble in his ears. She played with his foreskin and gave him another little nuzzle, then her mouth opened and she swallowed him, just an inch or two at first, then out, before taking him deeper, again, and again. And again.
The heat in Walker’s head became a searing fireball, imploding as a sudden wave of ice came from nowhere to grip his brain.
Darkness
.
Chapter Eight
The Morning After
Walker woke up with a splitting headache, nausea engulfing his senses like some dark tide. He climbed up from the couch unsteadily, feet tangling in an old blanket, and rushed to the bathroom. He almost didn’t make it, vomit burning at the back of his throat just as he dived for the toilet to throw up, his chest heaving and shaking.
After a minute or so he managed to stand and splashed some cold water on his face. His head shrieked, and when he checked himself in the mirror his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, the skin blotched red. All the bruises on his naked body seemed to be turning a nasty shade of violet.
Water – he needed water. He stumbled out of the toilet and shuffled to the fridge, trying to recall the events of the previous night. He could remember returning home from the Dancing Snake, hard kisses, a warm body and sudden blackness…
Layla
. The bitch must have slipped something in his drink. Walker grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down, eyes scanning the living room. Dozens of his books lay scattered on the floor and a few drawers in the ancient oak desk he kept near the kitchen were open, papers strewn around. His computer had been ransacked, only the monitor and keyboard remaining, while the mainframe and hard drives had disappeared.
Walker finished the water, fighting a second wave of nausea. His brain threatened to explode and he almost threw up again, the room swaying about him. He reached the window and steadied himself, glancing around the open space as if his custom Sony double-tower could magically reappear somewhere else. DM was going to be monumentally pissed off. Walker had kept some bits of DeepOmega on his machine at home, even though it had made his friend uncomfortable. And now they were gone, because of the Mexican whore. If she was even Mexican at all. Probably not.
His mind flashed back to the private suite at the Snake, and the weird aftertaste of the vodka she had prepared for him in there. He could still taste the metallic flavour at the back of his throat, and almost gagged again. Screwed by some sort of date-rape pill, like a fucking idiot. Many nights ofhard work were gone but – knowing DM – his friend would be a lot more concerned about the security of their precious Omega
Layla’s hands dropped to his waist and fumbled with his trousers, pulling them off to reveal his hard erection. She caressed his cock, gently, then gave him a little shove and pushed him to the couch.
Unbalanced, Walker fell backwards onto the leather cushions and lay unmoving, his head spinning. The semi-dark room seemed to shift and twist impossibly, and bright spots of colour flashed across his eyes. Then Layla was on top of him, straddling his hips with her legs.
She leaned down and kissed his forehead and eyes, her full breasts just below his mouth. He tried to reach them and suck at her nipples but she forced him back, her mouth licking his nose and moving down to wet his lips. She readjusted herself and slid lower, nuzzling his neck and biting his skin, then lower again to his abdomen.
Walker laid back and closed his eyes as her hands reached his groin, cupping his testicles. He could hear his own breathing become more ragged, like a massive fever had broken through the barriers and was now raging across his body. His legs were leaden, and he could hardly feel his feet and hands.
Layla’s tongue flicked around the base of his cock, teasing, then she gave him a soft bite higher along the shaft, working her way towards the tip. He sighed, a deep rumble in his ears. She played with his foreskin and gave him another little nuzzle, then her mouth opened and she swallowed him, just an inch or two at first, then out, before taking him deeper, again, and again. And again.
The heat in Walker’s head became a searing fireball, imploding as a sudden wave of ice came from nowhere to grip his brain.
Darkness
.
Chapter Eight
The Morning After
Walker woke up with a splitting headache, nausea engulfing his senses like some dark tide. He climbed up from the couch unsteadily, feet tangling in an old blanket, and rushed to the bathroom. He almost didn’t make it, vomit burning at the back of his throat just as he dived for the toilet to throw up, his chest heaving and shaking.
After a minute or so he managed to stand and splashed some cold water on his face. His head shrieked, and when he checked himself in the mirror his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, the skin blotched red. All the bruises on his naked body seemed to be turning a nasty shade of violet.
Water – he needed water. He stumbled out of the toilet and shuffled to the fridge, trying to recall the events of the previous night. He could remember returning home from the Dancing Snake, hard kisses, a warm body and sudden blackness…
Layla
. The bitch must have slipped something in his drink. Walker grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down, eyes scanning the living room. Dozens of his books lay scattered on the floor and a few drawers in the ancient oak desk he kept near the kitchen were open, papers strewn around. His computer had been ransacked, only the monitor and keyboard remaining, while the mainframe and hard drives had disappeared.
Walker finished the water, fighting a second wave of nausea. His brain threatened to explode and he almost threw up again, the room swaying about him. He reached the window and steadied himself, glancing around the open space as if his custom Sony double-tower could magically reappear somewhere else. DM was going to be monumentally pissed off. Walker had kept some bits of DeepOmega on his machine at home, even though it had made his friend uncomfortable. And now they were gone, because of the Mexican whore. If she was even Mexican at all. Probably not.
His mind flashed back to the private suite at the Snake, and the weird aftertaste of the vodka she had prepared for him in there. He could still taste the metallic flavour at the back of his throat, and almost gagged again. Screwed by some sort of date-rape pill, like a fucking idiot. Many nights ofhard work were gone but – knowing DM – his friend would be a lot more concerned about the security of their precious Omega
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