“Bitch! Fucking BITCH!” Those words seemed to encourage her, make her press against Strahm until he nearly sunk into her. Her kiss had become something more intense, like she was trying to force herself into him, willing or not. With much effort, Strahm was able to detach himself.
“You... want to... lie down for this?” he gasped, as she slipped off her top, exposing her pert breasts for his pleasure and Hoffman’s frustration. She turned to watch Hoffman, watch his levels of anger increase, watch him get more desperate with every second. Fucker deserves it. Just... turning the tables, you could say. She turned back to Strahm, letting Hoffman get a better view of her ass, the clear, almost scarily pale skin of her back almost shining, lighting up the apartment. He could hardly bear to watch her wrap one of her skinny, needle-scarred arms around Strahm, not when he could just imagine his own palms feeling that skin, imagining how it would feel, whether he’d feel her gently, snaking his hands down, or if he’d just dig his fingers in until he felt bone, until that white skin had rosettes of dark purple all the way down her spine...
“Lie down for what? Can’t do it standing?” she snorted, gripping his length, pulling him close to her again, preparing to shove him into her. Something about the way Hoffman was watching made her feel even more aroused, as if petty revenge was some kind of aphrodisiac. Who says it isn’t, Mandy?
“For the love of GOD, Amanda!”
“No...” He drew the word out teasingly, prying her hand off of him, pulling away a little, but keeping his hands on her shoulders. He glanced at Hoffman, wrenching his body forwards, side to side, all without any effect. “It’s not that. Just... thought we could have a little... fun. Your kind of fun.”
“Oh?”
“Manda! You fucking untie me right now! You listening? I’m going to fucking kill you! Fucking kill you, Amanda!”
Strahm lowered his hands to her breasts, leaning in for another kiss, before pulling away sharply, to a noise of her displeasure. A smirk on his lips, he stepped towards Hoffman, who began to direct his snarls to Strahm.
“You... you’re dead too, Strahm! I fucking jerked you off, least you could do is un-fucking-tie me, dammit!”
“Relax, Hoffman. Just have to borrow something.” Walking behind the chair, he leaned over to slip his hand into Hoffman’s trouser pocket, trying to avoid his mouth, just in case. Strahm’s fingers brushed against the item he was hoping for, his thumb aiding in grabbing it, pulling it out of the pocket.
“What... What the FUCK are you doing with my fucking phone?
“Like I say, borrowing it. You can have it back when I’m finished. Manda, lie down and spread ‘em. Now.”
She turned around and slowly got down, opening her legs to the point that Hoffman could, if he looked, if he stared, have a good look at her center, her wet, throbbing center, so damn inviting. He didn’t realize he could get any more turned on, but if the almost unbearable restriction his pants began to create was any indication, it was more than possible. Fuck. Got you going again, the fucking slut.
It didn’t help, the fact that Strahm was still behind the armchair, as enraptured as he was by the sight, or at least, so could be presumed from the way Hoffman could hear another set of harsh breathing, five nails digging into the fabric next to his head.
“Peter... you wanted something?” It snapped his concentration back to the phone he held in his hands, a phone he turned on, began to check the number.
“Hold on a sec, but, keep still, babe, keep your legs spread. Just...” He searched for his own jacket, tossed somewhere, somewhere... He caught sight of it, crumpled on the sofa, placed there at some point in time.
“Peter!” Amanda’s hand reached down to her thighs, stroking her skin, moving up higher, her fingers circling her now dripping clit, to Hoffman’s groans. “Do it, do it now, whatever you’re going to do, just fucking DO IT!” See, detective, you should really wait until I’m begging for it, until I’m on the floor, until I’m fingering myself. God, you really don’t have a clue about my type, do you?
Strahm, a phone in each hand, knelt next to Amanda, leaving one phone by her side, making sure he wasn’t obscuring Hoffman’s view. He’d stopped shouting, merely breathing in and out with great difficulty and anticipation. Good, though... not going to be that quiet for long.
“Your noise is making it harder to concentrate.” On command, she tucked her lower lip under teeth, trying to muffle her desperate moans as best she could. It was practically impossible for her to stop now, not with the way the palm of his free hand, slightly damp with sweat, pressed against her torso, just under her breasts.
He began to run his hand down her, feeling the satin skin of her stomach, pushing her hand away from pleasuring herself, whetting his fingers in her aperture, by now drenched with her arousal. His hand took a slight turn to the right, gripping her thigh, gently pushing her leg a little bit further out. He took the phone still in his hand, his phone, and began to dial the number of Hoffman’s phone; one number away, he stopped, letting his thumb hover over the final digit.
Hoffman stayed still, watching him with wild blue eyes, a hint of curiosity there as to what exactly was going to happen. He glanced at his phone, left so close to the figure of Amanda, almost touching her skin. Strahm’s voice snapped his gaze, his complete devotion of attention, away from the sight.
“You on vibrate?” One hand, formerly employed in caressing Amanda’s inner thigh, picked up the detective’s cellphone, while the other hand’s thumb punched in the last number, moving to the call button.
“Y-Yes.” Motherfucker, he’s not- he wouldn’t dare to- Fuck! Fucking piece of shit!
“Good.” With a smirk to Hoffman, or at least, the distraught in those eyes, he slipped the cool hunk of metal and plastic into her, pressing his thumb of his other hand down.
Her fingers dug into the carpet, feeling the fibers get stuck in her nails, that uncomfortable feeling of- What is that, oh, who the fuck cares- whatever the covering was made of, cancelled out by the feeling of Hoffman’s cellphone inside of her. She wasn’t sure why this was getting her off more than her hand, someone else’s hand, one of the vibrators in the closet, why she clenched herself around a phone, of all things. Maybe it was just her overactive imagination, imagining his fingerprints adding a little friction- Fucking impossible to feel that- Shut up, Mandy, I’m having fun. Fucking brilliant, Strahm. Revenge... best aphrodisiac. No question.
“Can I- Ohh, can I start- start screaming- Uhh, can I scream again, Peter?”
“And... you’re asking me... why?” His smirk widened into a grin as her moans began to fill the room, snapping Hoffman out of his silence.
“This is it, you hear me? Fucking piece of shit, you’re dead!”
“And you don’t like what you see?”
“You- You little fuck, that has nothing to do with it!” Who’re you kidding, of course it does, who wouldn’t like that, who wouldn’t hate that for tying you to your chair and getting off over your cellphone just to fuck with your head? For fuck’s sake, just... watch until she comes. Cell doesn’t vibrate for long-
“Ohh, God- Peter! It’s stopped, dammit!”
“Well... we gotta choice here... we can take it out and fuck... or I can redial-”
“Redial, goddammit!”
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