In Too Deep

by

In Too Deep
published in 2001 & 2011 by Chimera Books. Published as an
eBook in 2011 by Chimera eBooks.

ePub ISBN
9781907976094

mobi ISBN
9781780800240

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Chimera (
ki-mir'a,
ki-
) a creation of the imagination, a wild
fantasy.

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This work is
sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of
binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and
without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this
work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all
characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no
relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright
Roxane Beaufort. The right of Roxane Beaufort to be identified as
author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77
and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This novel is
fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

'So you want me to try and get photos of Theona Blue,
preferably
flagrante
delicto?
' said Will Denton, staring across
the desk at his editor-in-chief. The leather upholstered swivel
chair creaked at the slightest movement of his big-framed body and
long legs.

'Not try,
succeed,' Denise Spalding answered brusquely. Talented, confident
and glamorous, she ruled supreme, an iron fist in a velvet
glove.

Will pulled a
wry face. 'She's a tough nut to crack,' he reminded, 'is allergic
to the press, and surrounded by heavies.'

'I know all that. This is why it's essential that
Hi Life
get to her first.
Our readers expect the latest low-down on the rich and famous. We
must get her before any other magazine does. You can do it,
Will.'

He glanced at
her from under his strongly marked eyebrows, aware of his cock
hardening as it always did when he was near her. Power was an
irresistible aphrodisiac, and Denise was very powerful indeed. She
was one of the sexiest ladies he had ever met and, while a
confirmed bachelor, he was something of an expert. Concealed by her
prestigious mahogany desk, he surreptitiously fondled his balls and
caressed his prick through his trousers.

Denise had
always been a great lay, and she was a genuine redhead, too. The
foxy triangle at the apex of her thighs matched her fashionably
short, flicked-back hair. Bill ached to see it. If he pleased her
by promising to get the gen on the famous rock-singer, then maybe
she'd let him fuck her again, perhaps right now. They'd had an
on-off relationship from the beginning, when she first started
working for the magazine. That had been five years ago. But she was
capricious. He never knew where he stood with her. Now approaching
forty, a craggily handsome man with unruly brown hair, he had
already been an ace reporter when she started out as a rookie with
a college degree in media studies.

It had hardly
seemed just that because of this diploma she had been made editor
instead of him. But, as he had philosophically concluded, who ever
said life was going to be fair? The powers that be who owned the
magazine wanted a young woman, a modern thinking woman, with a
finger on the pulse of today's happenings. He, on the other hand,
had worked his way up through the ranks of journalism. He'd seen it
all, been there, done that, got the T-shirt, but she had netted the
job.

He'd not
resented it, and could have moved had the situation proved too
irksome, but after a while he'd had to admit that she was the right
choice - as modern as tomorrow with an eye for trends and
attitudes, attuned to popular opinion.

'Okay, you
shall have Miss Theona Blue served up on toast,' he vowed, giving
her the full benefit of his wide smile.

Denise rose,
tall and graceful in a tailored skirt and silk blouse. 'Good,' she
said, and came over to him, leaning against his shoulder. 'I knew
you'd agree.'

'Have I ever
let you down?' he asked, breathing in that gorgeous aroma of French
perfume mixed with her own personal essence. His nose twitched as
he caught the hint of something else - that of female arousal.
Undoubtedly her fiery bush would be dampening.

'Not since that furore about your exposé of the private life
of country and western singer, Delia Eddy. It was an audacious
piece of investigative journalism, but you fouled up, Will, and
Delia sued
Hi Life
and won her case. It cost the magazine plenty and the bosses
weren't amused. They wanted to fire you, but I put in a
word.'

'Why?' he
asked, slipping an arm round her pliant waist, male pride dented
because it was she who had got him off the hook.

She looked
down into his face and smiled. 'Because you're a good writer and a
first-class fuck.'

'What I said
about Delia was true,' he averred, reaching up to feel her breasts
through the silk, testing their weight and fullness and if she was
wearing a bra, letting his thumbs revolve over the hardened
nipples.

She didn't
resist, gasping with pleasure, then saying huskily, 'I know.'

Will started
to work open the buttons, absorbed in his task, but continuing to
state his case. 'There was Delia, pretending to be a homespun,
girl-next-door type, and in reality shagging every manager and band
member on the circuit. I didn't pull any punches.'

'You never
have done,' she whispered as he unfastened her blouse and then
fondled her breasts through the cream lace, underwired cups. They
were within an inch of his lips.

'I can't help
it,' he went on, blowing gently on her nipples, his erection
tenting the front of his trousers. 'That's how I am; I hate
bull-shit.'

'Did you have
to be quite so sarcastic?'

Will slipped a
finger into the top of her bra, finding one rosy teat and teasing
it into an even more needful peak. 'Sarcastic? I'm that all right.
We Brits have a warped sense of humour, haven't we? Something to do
with the climate; how can we be other than ironic when we can have
a heat wave in March and snow in April?'

'Keep it under
control when you interview Theona,' she advised, but her voice was
unsteady as one of his hands left her breasts and wormed its way up
under her skirt, encountering stockings, and a smooth area of thigh
between a garter belt and the edge of her panties.

He brushed it
aside, thrilling at the feel of crisp pubic floss, then the
delicate silkiness of her sex-lips. The copious juice betrayed her
excitement, and the throbbing in his groin increased. He put a hand
behind her, palming her rounded buttocks and wondering yet again
what she would do if he put her across his knee and spanked her.
The thought of seeing those round globes turning scarlet under his
blows almost made him come in his pants.

Would she get
off on it? He rather thought she might; a woman in control of her
business life relinquishing her will to a masterful man. He had
never spanked, whipped or caned anyone, though it was one of his
fantasies and he often masturbated while looking at photos of bound
and gagged girls, naked and ready for beating.

She relaxed,
parting her legs slightly to make his invasion of her secret female
parts that much easier. Will lost his nerve, deciding not to
attempt to chastise her - not this time. He didn't want anything to
put her off, dipping a finger into her moist vulva and massaging
her swollen clitoris. Feeling her shiver and wanting to delay her
orgasm, he stood up, his hands at her waist now, bending his head
and finding her mouth. His tongue entered its honeyed depth, and
her own responded with fierce little jabs. She moaned, low in her
throat, and he held her tight, pressing her pubis to the bulge
straining behind his fly, letting her know how much he wanted
her.

'I've told my
secretary I'm not to be disturbed,' she said, dragging her mouth
from his. 'There are condoms in the drawer.'

Spring
sunlight streamed through the plate glass windows of her splendid
office, with its view over London's Chelsea Harbour. It struck
across the red velvet couch that was a part of the impressive
equipment, like the state of the art computer, the fax machine, the
drinks cabinet. Many a time that settee had provided them with a
place on which to fornicate.

Denise lay
back on it and closed her eyes and Will hovered over her, hearing
the muffled sounds of traffic passing far below, and the distant
buzz of the people, machines and organisation needed to produce a
glossy magazine like theirs. But all was muted, sounding like the
sea pounding on some far off shore.

He knelt by
the couch almost reverently, as if he was before an altar. In his
own way, he adored this woman, with her sharp mind and lithe body.
Her face was fashionably made up, yet her beauty seemed timeless.
There was a touch of wantonness about her that contrasted
tantalisingly with the smart, strictly functional clothes she wore
to work, giving a hint of the real woman within.

He lifted her
skirt again, and then held her hips, raising her bottom so the
material would not ruck and cause her discomfort. She opened her
hazel eyes and stared at him raptly, as if waiting for him to touch
her. He dipped down and tongued her thighs between the taut white
suspenders. She spread her legs wider, gripping his head in her
hands, guiding him. He nosed her panties aside, running his tongue
over her cleft before taking them off. He brought them to his
mouth, inhaling the fragrance of her sex that clung like incense.
Then he stared at her, seeing the russet, neatly trimmed wedge, the
plump mound displaying its darkly enticing slit.

Denise tossed
her head from side to side and her hands clasped her breasts,
scooping them from the bra cups and playing with the red-brown
nipples, pulling them, rolling them between her fingers. Will
leaned nearer and bent her legs at the knee so that her thighs fell
apart, the avenue widening, pink labia unfurling, crowned by her
engorged clit.

He controlled
his lust, but relieved his cock by unzipping. It shot out, long and
sturdy, it's naked helm shiny with jism. Denise grabbed at it,
running her silver lacquered fingernails up and down the stalk,
examining the purplish dome, tracing each ridge and prominent vein.
Knowing he couldn't hold on much longer he slipped a digit into her
snatch, wriggled it around and then smoothed her moisture across
her labia and over the needy bud.

He massaged it
firmly, but when her jerking hips and gasping breath told him she
was on the edge he reduced the pressure, delaying orgasm.

She lay still
now, her eyes glazed, her lips as wet and lustrous as her labial
wings. She placed her hand over his, whispering, 'Make it last.
Give me a johnny and I'll put it on for you.'

He found the
packet, handed it to her, heard her tear it open, and watched as
she rolled the flesh-coloured rubber over his dick, her touch
magical, his climax just around the corner.

Prepared now,
he wetted her slit with a dribble of saliva. He licked her and she
cried out with pleasure, then his fingers took over again, trailing
back and forth across her delta.

'My clit!' she
muttered fiercely. 'Rub it now!'

He did just
that, no longer gentle but subjecting it to strong friction. She
moaned, her hips lifted, her head snapped back and he felt her
throb against his finger. He held her, widened her quivering cunt
and sank three fingers into her hot wetness. Not his prick. He
wasn't about to distract her from her moment of bliss. But, as the
tension released, he kissed her mouth and enclosed her sex in his
hand. Then, as she moved to lie full-length on the couch, he eased
himself into her welcoming sheath, pushing his phallus in deep.

She heaved
against him and he felt her inner muscles clamping round his cock.
He braced himself on straight arms, trousers tangling round his
legs, his movements frantic as he spurted into the condom.

'I want you to
take Julia Jones with you on the Theona Blue job,' was the first
thing she said as they lay on the couch afterwards.