Countered Questions Read online

  Countered Questions

  Jewels And Panties Series

  Book Fourteen

  Brooke Kinsley

  © 2018 All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses per law

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  "Erotica is literature designed to be read with one hand...”-Brooke Kinsley

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  Contents

  Description

  Chapter One BERGER

  Chapter Two LINCOLN

  Chapter Three BERGER

  Chapter Four LINCOLN

  Chapter Five BERGER

  Chapter Six LINCOLN

  Chapter Seven BERGER

  Chapter Eight LINCOLN

  About The Author

  Description

  Berger has a new companion.

  A mature vixen with eyes as dark as her soul and a body that needs satisfied. She’s dangerous and glamorous and has a history as secretive as Berger.

  All she wants is to be pleasured, to live on the wild side, to take everything she can…

  His head is spinning. He’s never met anyone like her. Things grow intense at lightning speed but before he knows it, she reveals her real intentions.

  She wants everything he has and soon she and her gang of biker buddies leave him destitute with nothing but the clothes on his back. But at least he has his life…For now.

  Meanwhile, Lincoln’s mind is in a tailspin. All he needs is one simple chemical to speed up the process that will have him holding Etta in his arms again.

  Tricephthial is his only hope, a controversial compound that’s known to only a select few as the Nectar of Lazarus. The only problem is that its existence lays in the hands of Professor Gustav Schiele, a man whose suspicion of Lincoln is only matched by his fear. Begrudgingly, he arrives in Mexico, but he has someone with him, someone with a guilty pleasure as twisted as Lincoln’s mind.

  Chapter One

  Berger

  "We are lost," she said.

  I turned to her and watched the sweat drip down her forehead.

  "Lost? We're on the highway heading south."

  "No, I mean we are lost people," she elaborated. "We know where we are as people but in here," she tapped the side of her head. "We don't know a thing at all. We are just lost. Just drifting. Two beings in a car escaping to... where are we going?"

  "Somewhere nice, Marcia," I said but I wasn't sure where that was. "Just somewhere."

  She hung her head in her hands and pulled at her hair. The smell of our sweat was thick in the car but for some reason I didn't find her body odor unpleasant. It was animalistic and musky but it was sweet too.I glanced over as she raised her head and I saw a single bead of sweat drip down between her breasts. Looking away, I turned back to the road ahead. It was empty. Even the locals knew it was too hot to be out. There was just the two of us, crazy with grief and bonded by our confusion. I pressed the gas and we sped faster, the car sinking itself into the soft tarmac as the heat haze shimmered in front of us.

  "Is there such a place as somewhere nice?" she asked.

  "I hope so."

  "Why are you here?" she asked.

  I couldn't help but notice the slight caustic tone to her voice. It was easy to forget how some people could be hostile to outsiders.

  "For a little while, I thought I had a friend," I said. "I came for him but he's long gone. Well, his mind’s gone anyway."

  She narrowed her eyes as though she understood what I meant but she couldn't really.

  "A friend," she said.

  I hoped she wouldn't want to know who he was. Luckily, she didn't ask anymore questions and turned her attention to the passing scenery out the window. There was nothing but desert for miles, nothing but death and heat punctuated with the occasional patch of burned grass.

  "Marcia, why are you running away?" I asked.

  "Why do you think?"

  "Is it what your daughter would have wanted?"

  "I don't know," she said. "She would have wanted me to have fun. To live.To escape that shithole town."

  We drove in silence for a little while. There were countless things I wanted to ask her but I somehow couldn't get my thoughts straight. Lincoln had to be the one who killed her daughter, Lol. It couldn't have been anyone else. Not to mention death had an uncanny ability to follow Lincoln wherever he went. As I gripped the steering wheel, my sweat falling down the sides, I thought about how truly mad he had become.

  He was in that big house all alone surrounded by death. What the fuck had happened to Etta? What the hell had happened to Norma? I couldn't take it all in and I didn't know what hurt the most, seeing a friend fall to pieces in the midst of madness or seeing Etta's body. She should never have died.

  Without thinking, I raised my finger to the scar on my head that she'd given me. Oddly, it gave me a sense of comfort like it was my own cute little reminder of her. Now I'd never be able to see or feel it without thinking of her beautiful face. Her crazy, insanely beautiful face.

  "You okay?" came the woman's voice.

  I'd been so entrenched in my thoughts I'd forgotten she was there.

  "Yeah. I'm fine."

  "You’re crying," she said.

  I hadn’t even realized. Holding a hand to my face, I felt my cheeks were wet and there was the sour taste of salt on my lips.

  "I'm not crying," I lied although I didn't know why.

  She sighed.

  "You need a drink," she said.

  That was true.

  She thrust her hands into her oversized bag and pulled out a bottle of vodka. It struck me as odd.

  "I didn't know people here drank vodka," I said.

  "They don't," she replied. "Not normally, but I'll drink anything."

  A smile came to her lips. It was as alluring as the hint of cleavage that was visible just above the low neckline of her top.

  "Pull over," she said. "I need to piss."

  There was something so crass about the way she spoke but I liked it. It was direct, it was harsh and it was domineering.

  "Sure," I said and slowly braked to a stop.

  The sun was still high in the sky, baking everything it touched. The ground was solid and cracked and whatever little grass remained was scorched like brittle hair. I peeled off my t-shirt and dropped it to the floo
r. It was stinking and soaked through with sweat. Opening the door, I hoped some much needed ventilation would drift into the car but only warm air entered the vehicle so it felt as though I was being heated up even more by a giant hair dryer. It was fucking unbearable.

  For a moment, I thought there was a chance I could die from the heat. She didn't seem to care though. Meandering her way out a few yards into the desert, I wondered where she was going to hide and do her business but then I saw that she wasn't planning on hiding at all. Yanking up her skirt, she squatted down and urinated in the dirt, her eyes boring into mine the entire time. Logic was telling me to feel uncomfortable but I couldn't look away.

  It was arousing in a disgusting kinda way and I was so thirsty I imagined lying with my face beneath her, drinking up every last drop of her piss. Inside my pants, something was beginning to happen and I knew then that I was truly losing my mind.

  "Berger you bastard. How can you get horny at a time like this? After fleeing so much death? With this woman who is grieving."

  But my body didn't adhere to logic and the erection only grew harder.

  When she came back to the car, she saw me shirtless and scanned my body with her eyes. She noticed the bulge in my pants and the shameful look on my face but said nothing.

  "Drink," she said and held up the bottle of vodka.

  It was the last thing I needed. My body was craving sleep and water and a patch of shade but I felt as though I had to do whatever she said. I found myself gulping down the vodka, feeling it burn a hole in my stomach. It hurt like hell and went straight to my head. My tongue felt dry and I had to hold down the urge to wretch.

  Meanwhile, she drank it down like it was water. When the bottle was half empty, she set it down between her legs and lit a cigarette. I couldn't help but notice she didn’t' offer me one.

  "There's a motel not that far from here," she said, breathing out smoke.

  "There is?"

  I was under the impression she hadn't ventured far from San Lucrezia but evidently I was wrong.

  "About thirty miles that way," she pointed into the distance.

  "You been before?" I asked.

  "A long time ago when Lol was a baby," she said.

  "Think it's still there?"

  "Probably," she shrugged. "Nothing around here really changes."

  There was the deep gnawing feeling inside me that I needed to be sick but I swallowed hard and tried my best to avoid the sun although it was turning my usually pale chest a worrying shade of pink.

  "From the north?" she asked with a laugh. "You look like you don't see much sun."

  "Yeah, from the north and no, there's not much sun up there."

  She laughed again, releasing a ribbon of smoke from her chest.

  "Wanna fuck?" she suddenly asked.

  "Er?"

  "Wanna fuck," she repeated as though she'd asked me a normal question. "You're hard, right? We're together. We're both crazy, alone with nothing but the sun. We’re..."

  She trailed off as she flicked her cigarette butt out the window.

  "We're suffering," she finally said. "I suppose that means something."

  Before I could answer, she slapped her hand on my crotch. I responded to her instantly although I wished I didn't. I should have kept driving, found somewhere to get out of this fucking sun but I was powerless beneath her touch. Her eyes were penetrating mine, her grip getting tighter around my cock until I was throbbing against her.

  "We're both suffering," she repeated. "There's no shame in finding a moment of pleasure when there's nothing but pain in your heart."

  She reached up and kissed me, the smell of smoke strong on her breath. I kissed her back, pushing my tongue against hers. Moving onto my lap, she straddled me, pulling up her skirt around her waist. Taking my hand in hers, she guided it to her pussy which was wet already and rubbed furiously. She grew even wetter and rested her head against my chest as she groaned softly. She pressed my hand even harder into her until her nails were digging into my skin.

  "Yeah, like that," she whispered as she bit gently into my chest.

  When it felt as though she was on the brink of orgasm, she tossed my hand away and sat on my cock. Rocking back and forth, she rubbed herself against the bulge in my jeans. I could feel the heat of her pussy through my clothes, could smell just how aroused she was. She moaned louder, sank her teeth even deeper into me.

  I could feel myself become overwhelmed with the urge to fuck her. I needed to be inside her, feel the tightness of her, feel the heat and wetness of her, but she was pushing me down into the seat, not letting me move an inch.

  She rode me, grinding her pussy against my erection until she began to scream, then in a flash, she ripped open my jeans, pulled out my dick and drove it inside herself. She shook as it entered her and cried out as she came. I ejaculated in an instant, yelling as my body jerked forward.

  For a long while after we both reached climax, she sat on top me, our sweat sticking together as she caressed the back of my neck.

  "I always like to wait," she said. "Until I can't take it any longer."

  My flaccid, exhausted penis remained inside her. She was still wet, still hot. I wanted to fuck her again but my body was spent.

  "Jesus, fucking.... Christ," was all I could say in response. "You nearly killed me. I almost passed out."

  She laughed and climbed off me.

  "If only women could kill with their pussies," she said. "I think the world would be a different place."

  Arranging her clothes back into place, she reached for another cigarette, this time offering me one. I took it gratefully although it only made my mouth and throat drier.

  "What now?" I asked.

  "We go to the motel," she said.

  I nodded, knowing that from now on, I'd always do what she told me to.

  "Then where?"

  She licked her bottom lip and rested her head against the window.

  "I don't know."

  "Where do we go tomorrow?" I asked. "There's gotta be somewhere better than this hell, somewhere where the wildlife won't kill us."

  She turned to me, the look of pain returning to her eyes. There was a hint of confusion on her face, or maybe it was anger.

  "Who said there'll be a tomorrow?"

  Chapter Two

  Lincoln

  "You want what?"

  "You heard me?"

  "Bosworth... You know I can't."

  "I can pay you whatever you want."

  Professor Schiele sighed. I imagined him in his office up in Chicago holding his head in his hands.

  "You know it's not about the money," he said.

  "So what is it about?"

  Again, he sighed, this time louder.

  "You know exactly why, Bosworth. I can't just give you Tricephthial. You're out of your fucking mind!"

  I knew this was bad. In the fifteen years I'd known the old man I'd never heard him so much as raise his voice nevermind actually swear. I thought people like him didn't even know the word fuck existed. Now I was seeing him in a whole new light.

  "I won't tell a soul, obviously," I said. "You know I'm private."

  He took a deep breath and lowered his voice.

  "I know a lot of things about you," he said. "Things more alarming than your privacy. Look, I can't talk to you anymore."

  "I can call back later."

  "I mean ever."

  Silence fell between us. There was a faint crackle on the long distance line. This was bad. Really bad. But at the same time Tricephthial was the only hope I had. It was the only hope Etta had.

  "You don't mean that," I said. "You can't just... cut me off. The two of us have been in business together for years. We've-"

  "I mean it," he interrupted. "It's hard enough having to justify to people that I have any association with you at all after all the trouble you've been through in Normont let alone this! What exactly do you need Tricephthial for? And why the fuck are you Mexico demanding I send you a pr
ivate jet filled with a cloning agent."

  "I need it," was all I said. "Because I just do and I can pay you anything. Anything!"

  "No! For the last fucking time, Bosworth, this isn't about money. This is about ethics. This is about playing God!"

  There was no better response than to burst out laughing. What the fuck did he know about God? There wasn't a God, not on this shitty Earth where there was nothing but pain.

  "Look,"I said, trying to steady my voice so I didn't sound like the madman I was. "I'm sending a jet to Chicago. I don't care if you're on it or not, but the Tricephthial has to be. Got it?"

  He hesitated but we both knew he had no choice because he knew just how persistent I could be.

  "We can't let this get out," he said. "Your name in America is... how do I put it?"

  "Shit," I said. "My name is shit right now but the people love a scandal and they love to hate the rich so that doesn't surprise me."

  "What happened in Broadwood is more than a fucking scandal, Bosworth!"

  Silence came between us once again. I sat on the stairs and felt the cold marble against my bare skin. It was then, as I looked down at my body that I realized I was naked. I didn't know how much time had passed since Berger left. It could have been hours, days, who the fuck knew? The minutes down here dragged by, weighed down by the heat and smell of death.

  "I'm sending the jet."

  "You can do that but it doesn't mean the Tricephthial will be on it. I can't give you it. It's... it's evil."

  "Aw shut up. You're supposed to be an academic and you're gibbering about puerile polemic notions of good and evil. Get over yourself. Besides you patented it. Send the Tricephthial or I'll come get it from you myself."

  I hung up before he could say another word. Despite his protests, I knew he'd send it. He was too scared of me not to. Everyone was.