The Dara Nichols Series 1-8 Read online

  “She's hard to leave,” he said, breath quickening.

  Smith moved in front of him and Older Cop's fingers came out of her pussy. Smith started fucking her with his hand, hard and fast, “Wow. Gotta have some of that.” He slid his fingers out and had his cock ready and began to put it in her a little at a time and Dara moaned, the first part of her pussy was the most sensitive, the drag and pull making her shove her pussy forward to meet his tease.

  She got up on her elbows, “Push my legs back,” and Smith did. Folding her almost in half, Michaels got higher on the hood, bracing her body as Smith started plunging inside her. She put her hands on his shoulders as her ass hung just above the hood and her lower back was held fast against Michaels' thighs as he was kneeling on the hood.

  Her hair was pinned behind her, against Michaels, and she swung her head away and the hair fell forward, wrapping Smith's cock as it drove into her body, Dara said, “Keep that rhythm, I'm close... like that,” and she shattered, her pussy giving a massive pulse and clench around Smith's shaft as he finished in a blinding rush of speed, his body stiffening. With a small cry, his cum sprayed up in her snatch and her pulses quieted into small bursts.

  Michaels lifted her up and Smith seemed to know what was going to happen before she did because he threw his cop jacket down on the hood and her knees came to rest on that with her ass up in the air facing Michaels.

  “I want to do your ass,” Michaels said, the blunt tip of him stabbing around by her other hole.

  Smith said, “I want to do your mouth.”

  “I'm going to watch you young bucks use her good. I've had enough for now,” Older Cop said from the street.

  “Fuck my pussy first,” Dara said, knowing it would feel good to have her ass filled if the cum was on his cock.

  He shoved his cock in and out, getting plenty of cum on it, “Nice, she's full of cum. Sloppy but tight...” he jerked his cock out when he felt like he was getting close and started penetrating her ass. Dara lifted a hand to her ass cheek and spread her ass a little more as he worked it into her and when he was at the end of her, he slowly pulled out and her ass clenched onto his cock.

  “I don't need her ass, I want that tight pussy as you fuck her ass,” Smith said. Dara did a push up, moaning as Michaels shoved it into her tight ass and Smith slid under her, putting his legs out straight, they fit perfectly between Michaels splayed knees where he pumped his cock in her ass.

  Dara leaned forward and Michaels slowed his thrusting so she could position her pussy above Smith. As Smith entered her wet pulsing hole he grunted with satisfaction, “Even better than before, didn't think she could get tighter but she is...”

  They moved together with Dara in between them, her panting becoming deep, ragged breaths as she was pulled closer to orgasm by their cocks hammering her holes. She felt her head drop and her breasts swung above Smith's face, her cami a tube around her stomach and Michaels riding low on her back as his balls slapped that small piece of real estate between her two holes and with a final stroke both men started shooting their hot release, Smith in her pussy and Micheal’s in her ass. She slid over the edge, screaming her pleasure into the night, her arms trembling above Smith and her legs almost off the hood from the cocks riding her.

  Dara collapsed on top of Smith and Michaels left her hole and leaned back against the windshield of the cruiser, spent.

  Older cop said, “Now see, that's what they mean by 'service'.” He chuckled.

  Dara lay there on top of Smith who stroked her back, “That was hot. You're not going to spread the word, are ya?

  She looked into his eyes, “Not the word, only my legs.”

  He flipped her over and looked down at her, his head resting on his elbow. “That's just what we wanted to hear.”

  #

  This is an erotic and fictitious story. Please practice safe sex in the real world.

  The Thirteenth Floor

  Volume 3

  Copyright 2011 Marata Eros

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved.

  Edited by Hazel Novak

  CHAPTER 1

  Dara tapped her stiletto-heeled foot on the marble floor in the lobby of the finest hotel she'd ever been in. A new term of teaching was a hair's breadth away and she'd been coerced into attending the annual professor's symposium before school began. Every preceding year she'd managed to extricate herself, but not this time.

  The only thing that was remotely interesting was the foreign teaching group was attending this year. There were representative from several different European countries. Dara was excited; she spoke French from her year abroad and thought it'd be fun to brush up.

  She glanced down at her wristwatch, straight-up noon. She shouldn't have come so early. She leaned back against the uncomfortable wood slats of the bench against the elegantly papered wall and looked around her:

  Great chandeliers flanked each other on a ceiling that was at least twenty feet high. All the décor was gold and cream, the concierge waited at attention behind a crescent-shaped greeting booth to bounce around when someone... anyone, crooked his or her finger.

  Dara had taken pains with her appearance, wearing her tight-fitting scarlet skirt, black stockings and matching four inch heels with straps that wound around her ankle. They were very risqué for the symposium but the university president could say nothing, as they were not open at the toe. Her skirt flirted with propriety and grazed the top of her kneecaps.

  It was the blouse that was a showstopper. Dara knew that her eyes were her best feature. A deep and startling green, they overwhelmed her triangular face, and contrasted with her dark auburn hair. The blouse showcased them perfectly.

  It was black and low. She wore it with the deepest green cami she could find, the lace peeking out of her décolleté neckline.

  She was startled out of her thought processes by three young men approaching her.

  The first looked remarkably like one of her students and a fine blush rose to her face at the thought of him. Especially what had happened with him in her classroom at the end of last term.

  He cocked his head to the side and asked, “Dara Nichols, professor of English Lit?”

  He was French. Fantastic, Dara thought, her mind changing gears.

  “Yes, I'm Dara,” she replied in French.

  His pleased expression made her understand how welcome his native tongue was to hear in her country.

  He went on, “My colleagues,” he turned to two men, tall, dark and yummy, “will be giving a talk?” he trailed off, as if unsure as to the terminology.

  “Yes...speech,” Dara replied, still in French.

  He nodded gratefully, his eyes starting to make the rounds on her outfit selection. He found it sexy, if she was any judge of a man's reaction. His two friends eyed her closely, their gaze taking in the heels, legs and hovering around the hem. No doubt thinking about what was underneath.

  Dara helped them out, uncrossing her legs and re-crossing them, which allowed her to flash the lace of her thigh highs. All three men tracked her movement like prey.

  Dara licked her lips. This was fun.

  She had absolutely distracted them and played with the young Frenchman in earnest now. “So, you need my assistance? For?” she asked, her hand up in the air then falling to rest briefly on her neckline.

  Their eyes drank her in.

  Dara stood and found she was still a trifle shorter
than all three and turning her attention to the silent pair behind the Frenchman she put her hand out for a handshake with the closest man.

  He grasped her hand and instead of shaking it, ran a finger up the delicate skin of the underside of her wrist and she shivered. Never breaking eye contact he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed the fullness of them across the arc of her hand and her nipples hardened at the touch.

  “This is Georgio,” the young Frenchman said by way of introduction.

  “Georgio,” Dara repeated, gazing into eyes that were as black as his hair.

  “And I am Jean-Pierre.” the Frenchman said, grasping Dara's elbow.

  The third man, an Italian, said in accented French, “We are acquainted with one of your students.”

  “Who,” Dara asked, her pulse speeding.

  “Ryan,” Georgio said.

  Ryan. And Dara had been so sure that he wouldn't talk.

  Jean-Pierre said, “He made us aware that you have...”

  “Exotic tastes,” the nameless Italian said.

  Dara decided to play dumb, maybe this was a joke to make her uncomfortable and unsure of herself.

  It was working.

  “I do not know what you mean?” she said tremulously.

  The Italian smiled. “Let us discuss this somewhere more intimate.”

  Dara felt a little thrill go through her, an electric-like buzz shot down to her pussy and it throbbed once in response.

  “Where?” she breathed out, shooting for nonchalance and missing it by a mile.

  “Let us take the elevator on the way to the symposium,” Jean-Pierre said, steering her toward the long and elegant foyer where a plush crimson rug rolled out.

  Dara's heels clicked on the hard marble as she walked, the noise reverberating in the near-empty hotel foyer. The concierge looked up, his eyes taking in the men, her elbow in the hand of an exotic man. He lifted his brows, as if to ask, Everything alright, miss?

  Everything was looking really great to Dara right now.

  Dara gave an nearly imperceptible nod and his head bent over whatever he'd been working on.

  Dara allowed herself to be led to the elevator, the Italian and Georgio flanking her, Jean-Pierre's large hand wrapping her elbow.

  The dinging bell filled the hallway with its music and Dara walked in after Jean-Pierre, the silent pair of men following closely behind.

  The entire elevator was mirrored in its interior and Dara took in the scene around her. Italian and Georgio had their eyes trained on her body.

  Dara held on to the last ounce of professionalism that she could muster and said, “It's on the fourteenth floor.”

  “No, that is not where we shall go,” Jean-Pierre said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The thirteenth floor. We will ascend to the thirteenth,” Italian said.

  That got Dara's attention. Everyone knew there wasn't a thirteenth floor; it was bad luck. She told the men that.

  “Oh no, you are so wrong.” Georgio said and depressed the button embedded with the numeral, “14.”

  The elevator began to rise, slowly moving upwards.

  Jean-Pierre leaned into Dara, caressing her upper arms, the silk of her blouse rasping along her skin in an erotic way.

  He moved his face along the side of hers, his smoothly-shaven face gliding against hers in a rough caress. “Let us inside you, Dara.”

  Italian began caressing the backs of her thighs and she watched him in the mirror, her eyes liquid green pools of desire over Jean-Pierre's shoulder.

  “Yes,” Dara groaned as moist heat soaked her panties. She spread her legs apart, firmly planting them astride of Jean-Pierre's.

  Italian moved in, running a hand up her inner thigh, he stroked the edge of her panties and Dara cried out softly, sure she would come with sheer anticipation.

  He moved the lace aside and slid a finger into her tight hole and her pussy latched onto the digit that penetrated her so smoothly.

  Italian began to move his finger in and out of her pussy, the motion an exquisite torture.

  “She is so wet, so tight. My friend,” he said to Georgio as Jean-Pierre unbuttoned her blouse.

  “Yes?” Georgio asked, maneuvering beneath her.

  “Do you have the toy?”

  “I do. And I shall put it in.”

  What toy? Dara wondered, starting to pull away and Italian slid another finger in her, scattering her dissent to the wind.

  He was pumping her hard with his fingers now and Dara's breathing became more shallower, Jean-Pierre was sucking on her nipples. An electric thread of desire pulsed straight from his suckling to her throbbing core. He placed feather kisses along her neck as he finger-fucked her pussy bringing her to the brink just as Georgio began to insert a small, wet and hard item in her ass.

  “Ah yes, it is going in nicely. She has very supple holes,” Georgio said. Sitting on his knees he began to lick the top of her pussy as Italian finger-fucked her and Jean-Pierre worked over her nipples.

  The anal plug was almost all the way in when Jean-Pierre lightly bit down on her nipple and Italian shoved a third finger in her and Georgio took her clit in his mouth and sucked it in.

  Dara screamed, the orgasm shattering her defenses, making her knees buckle underneath her as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open.

  The men pressed her to the floor and Georgio spread her legs, tearing off her lace panties as he did, her body jerking with the roughness of it.

  “We will fuck you to make you scream again,” Jean-Pierre said.

  Dara turned to see what lay beyond the elevator doors and there were two workmen.

  They weren't working anymore.

  They watched the men swarm around Dara with hungry eyes. The entire floor that she could see was a mass of tools, plastic sheeting and dust.

  The phantom thirteenth floor.

  Jean-Pierre pushed Dara's legs back until her ass was up in the air, filled-to-bursting with the plug. He began to shove his cock into her wet hole that was pulsating from the residual orgasm.

  “An American pussy. Wet and ready,” he thrust into Dara and she grunted at his efforts, her holes both filled. Then Italian slapped the side of her face with his cock and she opened her mouth to accept his arousal.

  Italian began to stroke in and out of her mouth and Georgio got his hand where he could maneuver the plug and pulled it out, then rammed it home into her ass and Dara squirmed, meeting the plug at the same time that Jean-Pierre drove his prick into her pussy.

  She heard a worker say, “God, look at how much of a slut she is. Taking all that action.”

  “I want some of that,” the other one replied.

  Dara watched around the cock that was fucking her mouth as the two workers came inside the elevator. Squeezing flat against the walls, their eyes were on her parts as she rocked back and forth with the pumping she was getting.

  Jean-Pierre started to move faster and Dara's hips rose to meet his thrusting as her ass clenched around the plug; Georgio ramming it harder.

  An orgasm burst over Dara as Italian's hot cum filled her mouth and she swallowed it down. Jean-Pierre stiffened above her as his hot release shot deep into her core. With a final thrust, the plug was buried deep inside her ass and Dara's legs fell open, her body quivering and shaking from her pulsating pussy's release.

  Jean-Pierre pulled out of her and Georgio was shoving his cock in her before she could come to her senses, thrusting into her over and over, giving her a true pounding. “We will do her all in a row and she will accept our cum.”

  He stiffened and came in her weeping pussy, soft, wet and slick from the come Jean-Pierre's cum.

  Georgio slid off, and released the plug from her ass.

  Italian settled between her legs and turning around he glanced at the workers. “Do you wish to fuck her?”

  They looked at him uncomprehendingly since they did not speak French.

  “Do you want to fuck me when he's don
e?” Dara asked, spreading her legs further so they could get an eyeful of her glistening hole, come oozing out in a stream. Dara put her hand down to her pussy and using her fingers she smeared the cum around her opening, readying it for more fucking.

  She wanted to get as many men as much cum in her as she could.

  They nodded wordlessly, kneeling beside Georgio as he buried his cock in her pussy. Pumping her fast and hard, using her pussy to get off and a wet hole to shoot his come in, she spread her legs so he could get as much depth as he wanted. He grabbed her hips, raising them off the floor of the elevator, stabbing his cock into her wetness like a spear.

  He was rubbing his cock over that spot that hid deep inside Dara's pussy and finally, like an itch that was scratched, she came. Her pussy clenched onto his cock, and his come filling her as she milked it out of his throbbing dick.

  Dara's legs stayed open and she felt cum leaking out from between them at the same time she heard pants unzipping and the worker was between her legs, shoving his cock into her. His longish hair covered his eyes as he strained to shove the whole length into her at once. “God, this feels so good. She's all full of cum and slick,” he said, thrusting his cock into her.

  “Just a sperm-receptacle Jimmy. Fuck her hard.”

  And he did, his rhythm a blur of speed, using the built-in lubrication like a highway, Dara's body slid back and forth on the elevator floor, her ass getting friction by the movement.

  “I don't want to wait anymore. I'm going to dump my cum in her mouth. Open up sweetheart.”

  Dara did, her pussy so wet and full of cock she could hardly stand it. The sensation of this unknown man taking advantage of her spread-eagled and half naked with a bunch of men she'd never met watching, was a complete turn-on. It was the most men she'd ever had. Dara spread her legs wider as the other worker shoved his cock in her mouth so hard she gagged. “Take it... take it, that's right...” he told her.

  He groaned, getting close to releasing his orgasm in her mouth. Jimmy was still pumping between her legs, his hands planted on either side of her waist as he used her pussy, grinding it into her with force.