Freedom

Part 34: Proof

Jerome slid his tongue into her mouth; Danica relaxed under his kiss, his touch. Jerome's fingers found their way along her slick opening and teased, barely penetrating, but enough for her to remember what he could do with just his touch. Danica's mouth fell agape as he fingered her clit, touching lightly, just barely for her sensitive skin. Jerome's pants felt a little too tight as she quaked under him, moaning softly with her legs shaking. Danica grabbed his waist, urging him to jump foreplay and give her what she was ready for; but he shook his head during the kiss.

"No, baby," he said firmly, denying himself the release. He pried her legs apart and lowered his mouth onto her clit, immediately suckling on her bundle of nerves. Danica cried out in pleasure, she moaned his name.

Jerome flicked his tongue along her folds, ever teasing, just teasing, with no guarantee of letting her find release. Danica squirmed-her toes curled, her fingers scratched and scraped at the bloodied white sheets of the politician's bed. Jerome's tongue found its way inside her, twisting and twirling-Danica's back arched.

*"Baby*," Danica pleaded. "Oh, I'm so close."

"This isn't for pleasure, Kitten," Jerome chuckled. "It's your punishment." He withdrew from her, abruptly shutting off any stimulation.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at the unconscious politician, Gary Houser, on the floor.

"Finish what you started. I'll watch." Jerome took a seat on the bed. "When Galavan asks if it was worth it-we should have enough gull to show...*proof*."

Danica, although disappointed about his withdrawal from his affections, understood that he made a *very* solid argument.

So Danica pulled her panties up.
"No, no," Jerome said as she started to grab her pants. "Just those."

Danica looked at him with a quirky raise of her eyebrow. "You want me to do this with just my panties on?"

Jerome sat criss-crossed on the bed. "Indulge me."

Danica tossed the pants at him playfully, hiding his face behind her black leggings. He chuckled as he withdrew them from his face.

"Playful, little minx," he complimented.

Danica squared down beside Gary Houser. She flicked the side of his head.

"Wake up, pervert."

Houser roused, turning over. He looked at her, and then face contorted with fury. He pushed her down and rose to his feet, "*You little bitch!*"

He lifted his foot to stomp-Jerome lifted a knife to his chin, halting he and Danica's victim in a freezed state.

"Whoa," whimpered Houser softly. "Whoa, easy now. Easy now, little fella..."

"There's nothing little about me," Jerome said, standing behind Houser, the blade pricking the politician's neck, "except perhaps my attention span. That I have of a five-year-old. Ha!" He snickered.

Danica let out a sinister chuckle from the floor, both from amusement and from Houser's terrified expression.

"Oh my God," Houser whined. "You're the Ginger Maniac."

"Is that really my only identifier? My hair? Not my charming smile, the way I dress, the showboating? Not even how kill? Disappointing. You know, I would whack you myself, but this is kind of my girlfriend's game, so, my hands are tied... figuratively speaking." Jerome released him. "Danica, on your feet."

Danica pulled herself up to her feet. Blood stained her face, several cuts, several bruises, yet Jerome saw that permanent smile just upped the rate of her beauty.