The Devil's Pact - S01 E225

Story 1 week ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E225

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 225

"Okay, Mr. Glassner."

I wanted to go after Brandon myself. But he was going into the heart of the lion's den, the Motherhouse of the Nuns. Who knew how many of those bitches would be there. It was far too dangerous for either Mary or myself to go anywhere near Rennes- le-Château.

"Mary, where was that third book at?"

"Um, with some noble. An Altgrave, I think he was called." She grabbed her phone. "In Cologne, Germany."

"I need to speak with him, make sure he understands not to let Brandon so much as see that book,"

"Hey, Kaeden," Illness, the barkeep at the Lucky Cowgirl greeted me as I sidled up to the bar.

Illness wasn't the name he was born with, just the name everyone called him. "Because I'm so Ill, man, you know, cool," he would say in his gravely, burnt-out voice, sounding like an aging rocker who partied to hard in his twenties and lived to regret it.

"A pint of Sam Adams," I said, sighing as I sat down on the barstool.

"You one of the..." He left the end of his question hanging. The empty look in my eyes answered his question. "Rough, man. Real rough." He finished filling the pint and set it down in front of me. "So, did it really happen?"

I shrugged. My PBA rep told me not to talk about it. Fuck, I'm not even sure what really happened. One minute, I was storming this Mark Glassner house on loan to the FBI, and the next thing I knew Mark Glassner was leading me and rest of my SWAT unit out of the house. And then this fine-ass girl, naked, with bubble-gum pink hair and this voluptuous Latina were leading me upstairs and fucked my brain out.

And now I was probably out of a job. And maybe facing prison time. Accepting sexual favors as a bribe, Internal Affairs called it. So here I was, back at the Lucky Cowgirl, to drown my sorrows. I hadn't been in for two weeks and I was hoping to get lucky like the last time I was here, to maybe take my mind off my problems with some female companionship. Hell, maybe that gal would be back.

Nearly two weeks ago, on a Friday, this vivacious blonde name Erin had waltzed in, flirting outrageously with me and a few of my drinking buddies. We were drawn to her, she was just so fucking sexy in her tight jeans and revealing top. And she just ate our attention, touching us, laughing at our bad jokes. I grew more and more bold and soon it was just me and her at the bar and she let my hands roam everywhere. When I whispered in her ear that I wanted to fuck her brains out. She laughed and suggested the bathroom. I gave her a good fucking all while this creep listened to us from the next stall.

And then she asked me to go get some drinks and I waited at the bar while she cleaned herself up. And waited, figuring she had to reapply her make-up. You know women. When she did emerge, she was with this other guy, her arm wrapped around him, clinging tightly to him. They clearly knew each other, her boyfriend maybe and I just stood at the bar like an idiot realizing that the guy must have been the creep in the next stall. They were like playing at cheating or something. It was straight out of letters to Penthouse.

After the day I had, I wouldn't mind banging Erin again. Her guy could watch for all I cared. I just needed something nice to happen to me, today. I just needed something pleasant to help me forget what a shithole my life just became. All the hard work, all the sacrifices to become a SWAT officer. It cost me my marriage to Sally and a few girlfriends since. All of it flushed down the shitter and I couldn't even begin to understand why any of us did it.

"Why so down, handsome?" a tall, African American woman asked, sitting on the barstool next to me. Her accent was strange, like she was an actual African, from Nigeria or something. She was beautiful, young, with coal-black skin and short, curly hair. Her lips were big and smiling beautifully.

I snorted. "I'm in a lot of trouble."

"Oh, how sad," she consoled, placing her hand on my arm, stroking me gently. "Maybe I could make it all better."

"Oh, how?" I asked, eying her up and down. She was fucking gorgeous.

She smiled promisingly. "What are you drinking?"

"Sam Adams."

"Buy me one, and we'll see if I can't make you forget all about your problems," she promised, her fingers running up my arm to my biceps. "Mmhh, you work out. I love a man with big muscles."

"I'm a SWAT officer," I told her. Some women got off on banging cops, badge bunnies we called them. And the way this woman's eyes lit up, she was definitely a badge bunny.

"How exciting," she purred. Illness set a pint before her and she took a deep gulp. "It must be very stressful, all that danger."

"Oh, very stressful," I said with a shrug. "But, I live for the danger." I used that BS on so many ladies, they lapped it up.

Her laugh was throaty and exciting. "And how do you relieve all that stress. I bet it just gets bottled up inside you, begging to be released."

"Oh, I could think of a few ways to relive the pressure," I smiled.

"Your hand, non?" she asked archly.

I laughed, it felt good to laugh. "Sure, but there are definitely more pleasant ways to relieve the pressure." took a drink of my beer. "Of course, they require someone's assistance."

She sipped her beer, her pink tongue licking foam off her upper lip. "I have been told I am very skilled at relieving stress."

My cock was rock hard in my pants. God, I loved this bar. I had never met a girl as easy as Erin, but this African chick was giving that slut Erin a run for her money. Well, it worked last time, so I leaned over and whispered, "I want to fuck your brains out. Right now."

She stood up, her smile eager, and took my hand. She was aggressive as she pulled me across the bar to the men's room and pulled me inside. She took me to the last stall. Memories of Erin bent over the toilet as I fucked her from behind flashed in my mind. Would this mysterious Black woman's cunt feel as good as Erin's had.

Christ I didn't even know her name.

But that didn't matter as she kissed me as soon as we were in the stall, my hands reaching down and knead her ass through her short skirt. I lifted the skirt up and she wasn't wearing any panties, the naughty little slut. Her tongue was fierce as she frenched me, aggressively exploring my mouth as her hands fumbled at my belt. She pulled my cock out, stroked it a few times then broke the kiss.

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The Devil's Pact - S01 E224

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