Troll in The Shadows

  Troll in the Shadows

  Shelby Morgen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Shelby Morgen

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

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  ISBN (10) 1-59596-580-7

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-580-6

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Maryam Salim

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Welcome to Troll’s Blog.

  Meet the cast:

  Mattie. That’s me. The Troll. Tall (six foot four), generous curves, light powder blue skin, bright burgundy hair, sculpted in a very artistic Mohawk. Short little tusks, charming, really. Likes to play Troll Under The Bridge. Works for the Department of Highways. Toll Collector. Go figure.

  Sam. The Cop. Big, strong, beefy Cop-type. Likes boobs. And legs. Well endowed. Short “Cop” hair. Plays with handcuffs. Has a thing for Trolls. Handy, really. Willing to rise to any occasion.

  Kara. Human. Female. Ready and willing to kick some ass. But what do you expect? She’s my partner. Hey. Toll Collection’s a dangerous business these days.

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  “I’m straight, you know.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  OK then. So, we got that settled. “I mean, I’m married. Happily.”

  “I know.”

  She wasn’t. Yet. Married that is. She was single… for another… oh, eighteen hours. Engaged to the most handsome hunk of prime black beefcake I’ve ever drooled over. They were the perfect couple, actually. Both so incredibly fuckable it was only a matter of time, and fate, finally throwing them in each other’s paths.

  So what were we doing here? Me, Troll, and my partner, Kara? Together, alone, with her, incredibly, succulently, naked. What was I doing here? Shouldn’t there be strippers? Flowers? Cake? Too much booze, and a half-a-dozen women laughing their asses off as those little wind-up penises jerked and jumped their way down an imaginary race track?

  Her soft, breathy voice brought me back to the present -- a present where her lips hovered near mine. “I adore Mica. But haven’t you ever wondered…”

  Wondered? You mean fantasized? God, yes! I’d wondered every time I looked at her for the last six months. Damn, but she was gorgeous. A little heavier than was fashionable in a human. A size 16, on a good day, not a 6. But those extra pounds were all in the right places. Wide shoulders, full boobs, upper arms with enough meat on them to give you some place to put your hands, a nicely trimmed in waist, and full, deliciously curving hips.

  I’m not gay. Or a lesbian. Whatever the PC term is these days. I’m really not into women. But I looked up at her the day she walked into our district office, our eyes met, and my mouth went dry. I lost the ability to speak, to even breathe.

  When I could think again, which took a while, I realized the shift supervisor was introducing her -- as my new partner. And I knew, right then, my ass was fried. How the hell would I ever look at her and not think of her naked, spread eagle in front of me, all that ebony skin bared for my investigation? Dear Lord, I was in trouble.

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  (Sorry about the fee, but the web host said I was over my bandwidth limit. Geeze. 500 GB doesn’t go very far any more.)

  Where was I?

  Oh.

  Sam.

  Sam knew. When my shift ended that morning, I went home, and he took one look at me and he knew. I must have oozed guilt. “Who?” was all he asked.

  I didn’t have to ask what he meant. “My new partner.” Department regulations strictly prohibited fraternization between fellow officers. Fuck your partner, and you’re not going to put your head out there in front. You have to think, not lust, or you end up dead. Toll collecting’s a dangerous business these days, what with anarchy only a hair’s-breadth away.

  “Tell me about him.”

  What? Oh. My partner. “Her.” His dick jumped so hard I almost laughed. Oh, this was going to be good. “Five foot nine, hundred and sixty pounds, dark chocolate skin, long, braided red-brown hair, little beads at the ends, boobs that would fill my hands, an ass like…”

  “Strip. Now.” His voice had that rough, husky quality to it I loved.

  I put my hands on my hips, openly defying him. “Or you’ll what?”

  I’m strong. I’m fast. He’s stronger. Faster. God that turns me on. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, jerking me off balance. I kicked him, knocking one of his legs out from under him, fighting like a hellcat as he turned me around, smashing me face down onto the dining room table, my arms now pinned behind my back. He lost his balance and fell into me, his cock digging into my ass so hard I almost came from sheer lust.

  Regaining his balance, Sam snapped a set of cuffs on my wrists before he yanked my hips back, reaching beneath me to unbuckle my belt and shove my uniform pants down to my ankles. I kicked out, but only to get the damn pants off this time. “What are you going to do, Cop? Fuck the poor helpless Troll?”

  I kicked him again, aiming for his balls this time. He caught my leg, pushing my knees apart, spreading me wide open. Those cute little thongs from VictoriasSecret.com lasted about three seconds. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Or would you rather be fucking your new partner? Maybe she’d fuck you. Maybe she’s got a strap on, with a big black dick on it, and she’ll bend you over the table and shove it up your ass.”

  Cold lube hit my ass, followed by something hard, with ringed edges. Oh, God, that hurt. I bucked and squirmed, ready to come before he’d even touched my cunt. What the fuck was it? His regulation issue mini-baton?

  He shoved it in, fucking me hard, just the way I liked it, then stopped, the cord hanging down over my bare naked ass, wisping against my sopping pussy. The feel of it, of me, there naked and alone, too off balance to even think of moving, totally at his mercy, was driving me crazy. “Fuck me!” I demanded. “Oh, God, please, fuck me!”

  “Why? You don’t want me. You want that cheap piece of black pussy.”

  “Like you care. You’d watch, if you could.”

  “Oh, fuck.” His cock rammed into my cunt so hard my hips drove the table against the wall. The baton shoved in harder, and I nearly screamed, it hurt so good. “That was below the belt.”

  “Like you’re even wearing a belt.”

  He was. The bastard had just unzipped his pants, not even bothering to take off his uniform. I knew ’cause when he pulled his belt off, all sorts of Cop stuff went flying. He leaned back, rocking his hips in a slow, delicious grind that had me writhing. Every movement of his hips ground the baton back and forth in my ass. His balls pressed against me, their coarse
hair teasing, promising.

  Crack!

  “Ouch!” I screamed, jumping so hard the sugar bowl fell over. “What the fuck!”

  “Who do you belong to, Troll?”

  “Fuck you!” The baton slid halfway out of my ass, only to be shoved back in again. Hard. Another crack of the belt brought my blood to a boil. Now both ass cheeks burned with a fierce stinging pain. “I don’t like that!” I lied.

  “Yeah?” He laid the belt on the table where I could see it and I almost whimpered. “Then you won’t like this, either.” The buttons of my uniform shirt went flying as he ripped it open, popping the clasp on my front hook bra to spill my breasts into his hands. His fingers went straight to the nipples, squeezing hard.

  I came instantly, my pussy clenching so hard around his cock I expected him to explode into me. But he wasn’t done yet. Pressing me back hard against the table top, he put one hand on my ass while the other guided the baton in small, short plunges. I knew he could feel it too. Nothing but a thin sheet of skin separated the hard knurled rings of the handle from the hard, wet slide of his cock in my pussy. Soon he was moving with the rhythm, long, deep plunges into my cunt, the tempo growing, building, pulsing with a burning need as both cocks rammed me, harder, harder, but not hard enough. “Fuck me, Cop!” I demanded. “My partner would. Her hands would be on my ass, her tongue in my cunt, licking me, sucking me, biting me, while I sucked her clit until she screamed for me.”

  He yanked me back off the table till there was room for his hand to snake beneath me, sweeping across the juices that escaped till his fingers were slick with our fluids.

  Merciless, he rode his fingers over my clit with the same frenzied motion his hips were making, banging into me like twin pistons on the same stroke, hard, harder, harder, till I exploded, coming around him so violently the night sky burst into stars -- in our kitchen, at nine am.

  When I thought I couldn’t take any more, couldn’t give any more, had to come down, he yanked my head back by the hair and bit my throat, right at the juncture where the shoulder molds in. I screamed -- something incoherent -- and came again, as the sweet, welcome load of his cum soaked my overheated cunt.

  “Who owns this pussy?” he roared as he came.

  “You do!” I laughed. “You and this feisty black chick with boobs the size of cantaloupes, just waiting for me to suck their juicy nipples.”

  His hips, almost stilled, jerked against me hard again, another wave of fresh, hot cum forced through hard, tight balls that I so wanted to suck. I spread my hands, breaking the department’s pretty new Troll-proof handcuffs, pushing off the table enough to drive my cunt tight against those spasming balls. I rocked against him, shoving back as hard as he pushed, helping us both wring every last ounce of pleasure from our joining -- as much as we could possibly stand.

  “God, that was good,” I moaned at last, too tired and sore to move.

  “Damn, Troll. I think you’ve killed me this time. Next time you arrest me. You broke my brand new cuffs.”

  “Thought you ought to know ahead of time whether they were worth the investment.”

  “Oh yeah,” he assured me. “Worth every dime.”

  I laughed. “Was it the belt? Or Kara?”

  His cock, still buried deep within me, jumped hard enough to show it wasn’t nearly as exhausted as he claimed to be.

  “Did I mention she’s got these big, gorgeous nipples…”

  “You saw her nipples?”

  “We were changing. In the locker room. It was all I could do not to reach out and lick one, just to see if she tasted like chocolate.”

  His cock rose to full attention within me. “Fuck…”

  “Do you think she’d let me suck them? If I asked real nice?”

  Still collapsed over my back, he ground his hips against me, his arms bracketing my shoulders to keep him from smothering me with his weight. “This time I’m going to torture you. It’s going to be long, and slow. I don’t think you’ll make it.”

  “First I’d lick all around the areolas, till they were wet and hard. Then when her nipples were drawn up all hard and sticking out like tiny little dicks I’d kiss them and suck them -- and finally bite them.”

  So much for long and slow… and I hadn’t even told him about the nipple rings.

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  Where was I. Oh, yeah.

  “But haven’t you ever wondered…”

  Wondered? You mean fantasized? (Yeah, we’re back to the bachelorette party.) As I mentioned, I had very definitely wondered what it would be like to fuck my incredibly sexy -- and very female -- partner every time I looked at her for the last six months.

  Just one problem. I’m married. To a gorgeous hunk, who also happens to be a Cop. Sam. You remember Sam? I wrote about him back when I first started this blog. And I still owe you the story of how we met. I’ll try to get to that next week.

  Well, anyway, I wasn’t going to do anything that might screw up my relationship with Sam, you know? So walking into the interrogation room, where there was supposed to be this bachelorette party about to start, and finding my very sexy, incredibly naked partner -- as in work partner, not fuck buddy -- Kara sitting on the edge of the interrogation table with her knees apart and her pussy spread open like a banquet made me more than a little… nervous.

  Yeah, nervous. Because like I’m not this bastion of self-control. My eyes were warring with my conscience, trying to decide whether to stare at her pussy, her titanium nipple rings, or someplace higher. I didn’t know who was winning, but my cunt was so wet my uniform pants had to be showing signs by now.

  “Did I miss the party?” OK, not a great line, but the best I could manage at the moment. Shit. I’d dreamed about sucking on those nipple rings for months now.

  “Nope. We are the party.”

  I licked my lips, nearly splitting my tongue on my left tusk.

  “Come here.” She leaned forward again -- did I mention the interrogation rooms aren’t very big? -- and this time her lips touched mine. Soft. Sweet. Electric.

  Definitely not Sam.

  Hell, it’d make a good story to tell Sam. Probably get me the best fuck of my life. My hands went to her breasts, stroking up from beneath until they overflowed my palms, the nipples resting in the V at the base of my thumbs. I sucked her lower lip into my mouth, toying with it, rolling it gently between my teeth.

  Kara moaned softly, a needy little plea.

  With the tiniest movement I could have pierced her lip. Instead I made love to her mouth with my tongue, twisting the small rings in her nipples until they rose to stiff, pointy peaks under my touch. I pushed my clothed hips against her naked cunt, rubbing the abrasive material against her tender flesh in slow, tormenting circles. She moaned again, the mew of a plaintive kitten.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  I’d have known that voice anywhere. The interrogation rooms are supposed to be soundproof, but hey, I’m a Troll. Supersensitive hearing, ya know?

  The room was rectangular, the door in the southwest corner. Along the south wall was a large glass window. Unless you’re a hermit living in a cave in Bangladesh, you’ve got to have seen at least one Cop vid. You know about those mirrors. I hadn’t given it much thought when I walked in -- hey, my wet dream was sitting on the edge of the table, naked.

  Facing the door.

  Anyone behind that mirror could see everything.

  And right then I knew that was exactly the point.

  I pulled away from her mouth to lick the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. Right below her right ear. “How much?”

  “I want it all,” she answered. A little too loudly.

  “Forty thousand credits,” she whispered as she nibbled on my ear.

>   God that felt good. A delicious shiver raced over my skin. “Forty thousand? Damn. Terms?”

  “I have to get you naked.”

  “No problem.”

  “In under three minutes.”

  Shit. That meant I had maybe forty-five seconds left. And I had to get home. Eventually. So no shredding the state-issued clothing.

  “Not fair. You’re the only one naked,” I announced for the sake of our audience. I turned, just a bit, giving them a better view as I shed my uniform shirt and dropped my belt on the table. The pants I shimmied out of as gracefully as I could. That left my bra and panties. Close enough. I popped the front clasp, thrusting my breasts forward as I shook the straps down my shoulders.

  “Let me do that.” She slid off the table as my hands reached for my cherry red thong. I’d worn it with the hope that someone would get to see it today. This wasn’t quite what I’d originally pictured… at least not today, but man did my pussy love where her hands were.

  Her fingers traced the path the thong took to the floor. So did her body, her nipples searing their way down my skin as she dropped to her knees before me. Kicking free of the thong, I backed against the table, bracing my hands for support. Hot little kisses traveled the length of my thigh, from my knee up to my pussy. Eager hands spread me open, making room for a hot, wet tongue.

  “Holy fucking Christ!” I exploded. As she licked me again from stem to stern I ran my fingers through her soft, slinky braids. The texture was so different, so exotic, almost alien. I pulled her head tighter against my pussy. “Fuck that feels good!” No lie.

  Yeah, I’d had oral sex before. I loved the scratch of Sam’s beard stubble across my sensitive skin. Still, that was nothing like this. She knew exactly where to touch me to find my most sensitive spots, like sliding her tongue deep, deep into my pussy, then dragging it out again, the rough surface abrading me in all the right places.

  Then there was the long, slow lick up the length of my slit till she found my clit, now oh-so-erect, begging to thrust itself at her.

  Sam was watching. I knew he was. I’d venture at least ten thousand of those credits were his. I wonder which way he’d bet. Then I forgot to wonder as she stroked the underside of my clit with tiny flicks of her tongue. “Suck me,” I begged, shamelessly playing to the man behind the glass. “Oh God. That feels so good.” I moaned, long and low, writhing as she sucked my clit between her lips.