Hell Bound - Spinnaker's Gold by Tobias Tanner
John Willis has a problem, to no one’s surprise. Trouble seems to find him wherever he goes. In this second installment of the Hell Bound series, Willis has gone home to Florida. With a few like minded friends, he orchestrates the downfall of a sadistic pedophile and murderer named Aaron Farnsworth, a very nasty piece of work. On the face of it, the job is simple. Do the things that officers of the court are unable to do. Entrapment is not the problem for Willis and crew that it is for the police. Nor is drugging the suspect, or planting evidence, or any number of other things.
There is, however, one law that can never be ignored: the law of unplanned consequences. Do one thing, other things happen, whether you expect them or not. Willis and crew make their way toward Key West, unaware that they are dragging a load of trouble in their wake. And it’s in Key West where greed clashes violently with tropical passions. A friend asks Willis to hold some gold coins he has found, a simple enough request. And then all hell breaks loose.
What appears at first to be a series of unrelated incidents begins to resolve into one problem. But the answers don’t come easily. Willis must draw on all his resources, from both sides of the law. In his world, there are only two measures for friendship: trust, and loyalty. Everything else is window dressing. It is to people who share those articles of faith that Willis turns.
The gold is only one problem, however. Willis has woman trouble, too. His female submissive has some deep-seated uncertainties about their relationship. His best friend’s wife is in love with him. And a girl from the past suddenly needs all his attention. Willis beds them all, and there is plenty of maledom kink to go around: submission, bondage, anal sex, double penetration, fisting, spankings, whippings, and public exposure.
John Willis must navigate through all of that and more to resolve the mystery of Spinnaker’s Gold. Because to him, it isn’t gold. It’s personal.
He kissed her a second time, deeply, then set her on her feet. Turned her around and bent her forward. Her breasts swayed ponderously, hanging into the partially opened silverware drawer. Sarah shifted her feet apart as he pressed his hips forward into the grooved socket of her buttocks, sliding his erect cock downward. She didn’t say a word. He wet his fingertips to stroke the silky slickness, drawing fluids immediately. He wasn’t surprised as submission agreed with Sarah like no one he had ever met.
Gripping his cock, he sought the soft nexus of her body, probing. She shuddered, buttocks tautening as he thrust inward. She moaned, definitely not in protest. His cock was large, very large. She liked that. In bed together earlier, she told him it hurt when he fucked her, told him she liked it and that she wanted more which he gave her.
Same thing in the kitchen. Not really prepared, but definitely enthusiastic. He stuck it to her, hard, reached around her sides and pressed forward, shifting her body, closing the drawer on her dangling breasts. Pushing gently, then harder as she writhed. He held her, stroking deeply, easing the drawer back as he withdrew, and pressing it forward when he thrust inward.
Her muscular innards gripped him convulsively. The drawer crushed her breasts, eased up, did it again over and over. Sarah clutched her captured hands against the pain, gasping for breath. The drawer thumped closed, silverware rattling. Her knees buckled as an orgasm swept through her. Willis held her, pummeled her body, And erupted, driving savagely to completion. Falling forward over her back, panting.
They stayed like that a long minute, then, “Please,” from Sarah. Whispery, desperate with pain, weeping gently. “My tits, Johnny. You’re killing me.”
Most of his weight was on his arms, pressing against the drawer. He straightened, pulling it open to release her, helped her to stand upright and led her to a chair. Sperm leaving silver snail tracks down the insides of her thighs. Deep marks on her breasts, bruising as he watched. He wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I’ve heard of getting into somebody’s drawers,” she said, shaky-voiced. “Guess I didn’t really know what it meant before.”
“Spur of the moment,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
“No apologies. You were magnificent.”
“I hurt you.”
“Hated every minute of it, too especially the orgasms. I guess you could tell, me complaining like I did.” She hadn’t, not even a little bit.
“You’re my kind of girl, Sarah Bolt.”
“I need to hug my chest and maybe cry for a little while.”
She lifted her arms in back. Willis unhooked the handcuffs, rubbed her wrists, and kissed her again - a gentle, lingering kind of kiss.
“Wow,” Sarah said.
“Yeah, wow.” He stepped away from her. “You go on, I’ll take care of the dishes.”
She kissed him. “Thank you, and thank you for Farnsworth, too,” she said. “And, truthfully, I’m not so sure the mystery castrator shouldn’t be thanked as well.”
Willis was the architect of the plan that culminated with the police raid in Palm Beach. The planner, the paymaster, and the director of operations. He’d done it almost on a lark, but even fun was serious business with a maniac like Aaron Farnsworth. The only question had been whether to trap the man, or kill him outright. As it happened, Willis was well satisfied with the choice they had made right up until it became apparent that somebody else had horned in on his plan.
“I’ll thank them with a size ten boot up the ass,” he said.
“Of course you will, my dear.”
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