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The Deal Maker conclusion
The Deal Maker
Conclusion
"Go on."
Claire leaned back against the couch, one leg bent, the other stretched out in her full cast propped on the cushions, wrapped in a long, wool sock that reached just below her knee. The soft knit clung to the hard fibreglass, a contrast of textures that sent a ripple of something dangerous through me.
Her casual look in her yoga pants moulded to her body, hugging every curve, and the thin T-shirt she wore did nothing to hide the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. The way the fabric clung to her hard nipples, teasing at what lay beneath, made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. No bra. No panties. Just her, effortlessly sensual, oozing a lazy kind of confidence that made my pulse stutter.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. "I pushed her."
A slow blink. Then another. Claire didn't flinch. Didn't gasp. She just parted her lips slightly, like she was tasting my confession. Then, with the barest flick of her tongue, she wet them.
"Hmm." The sound was soft, thoughtful. Not judgment. Not a shock. The silence stretched between us, thick, electric.
I had expected anger. Maybe disgust. But Claire only tilted her head, watching me like a cat watches a mouse, curious, patient, almost amused. A slow and sexy smile played at the corners of her lips, teasing, unreadable.
She shifted slightly, her movements deliberate. The long, rigid shape of her cast stretched the fabric of her yoga pants, the snug material outlining every unforgiving inch of fibreglass beneath. From her thigh down to her mid foot, the cast remained unyielding, forcing her leg to stay straight except for the bent at the knee, the fabric clinging to it like a second skin.
The lower half was wrapped in a thick, wool sock, adding another layer of contrast, soft and warm against the hard, surface beneath. When she moved, the cast pulled taut against the yoga pants, emphasizing its full length, its unrelenting presence. She adjusted it against the cushions, exhaling slowly, her fingers skimming the smooth line of her immobilized leg, as if testing its weight. Then, finally, she met my gaze again, eyes dark, full of something I couldn't quite name.
"Do you regret it?"
I should. I should regret everything. But I didn't. I shook my head. "No."
Claire exhaled, slow and knowing. Then, with an ease that made my stomach tighten, she reached out and took my hand, guiding it over the smooth fabric of her yoga pants. Down, down, until my fingertips brushed against the sock that I removed and rubbed her exposed toes.
"You wanted this," she murmured, her voice low, sultry. Her smirk was wicked, teasing, laced with something so dark, sensual and delicious. "You wanted to break her leg, didn't you?"
I couldn't answer. Because she already knew. And worse...I think she loved it but then she shocked me.
"I'm undercover, I'm a cop."
The words should have hit me like a hammer, but I had already suspected. It was the way she carried herself, the way she had slid so seamlessly into my world. She wasn't just another woman caught in my orbit, she was here with purpose.
"Investigating you and your company for unethical practices." Her voice was measured, but I could see the flicker of something else in her eyes. Regret? Or hesitation?
Claire shifted forward. The cushions dipped beneath her weight as she braced herself, hands pressing into the couch for leverage. For a moment, she hesitated and then, slowly, deliberately, she moved, she pushed herself upright, the long, rigid shape of her cast straining against the snug fabric of her yoga pants. The outline was unmistakable, the fiberglass molding to her thigh, her knee locked in place. She sucked in a quiet breath as she adjusted her weight, her muscles trembling slightly from the effort.
Reaching for her crutches, she gripped them with practiced ease, fingers tightening around the handles and then she lifted herself fully, balancing on her good leg, her cast hovering just above the floor. The crutches clicked into place as she straightened, her lovely chest rising and falling beneath the thin fabric of her t-shirt and with no brassiere, just the soft curve of her breasts beneath cotton.
Her gaze locked onto mine "But then you broke my ankle," she said, her fingers tightening against the grips, her knuckles white. "My tibia."
Running a hand through my hair. "So, this was all part of the job?"
"It was. At first."
She shifted slightly, adjusting her crutches, her cast hung stiff and heavy, the weight of it forcing her to keep perfect balance, to move deliberately, controlled. "You were never just a case to me, but that doesn't change why I'm here."
I pushed off my chair, closing the space between us in slow, measured steps. Just close enough to watch her inhale sharply, her lips parting.
"So, what now? Will you arrest me?"
"You have enough evidence, don't you?"
Claire's grip on her crutches tightened. "Yes." But she didn't move. She was hesitating. Or maybe... she was deciding. Her eyes locked onto mine, searching, calculating. And then, she stepped back. Not much, just enough to create space. Just enough to tell me that, for now, I was free.
I moved closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of her body, to catch the subtle hitch in her breath. Her cast hovered between us, a barrier and an invitation all at once. The fibreglass was solid, unyielding, pressing against my thigh as I reached for her.
She didn't step back this time. Instead, she met me halfway.
My lips brushed against hers, testing, waiting for resistance. There was none. Claire melted into me, her hands gripping my shoulders, her crutches wedged awkwardly between us until she let them drop. They clattered to the floor, forgotten, as she pressed herself closer.
Her mouth was warm, hungry, tasting of hesitation and something darker, something she wasn't ready to say out loud. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she shifted against me, balancing on one leg, the hard curve of her cast molding against my calf. My hands roamed, tracing the sleek line of her yoga pants, following the rigid outline of her cast, the heat of her skin beneath the fabric.
I picked her up and put her down slowly on the couch and murmur against her lips,
"Your tibia isn't broken."
Her breath caught. I ran a slow hand down the length of her cast, fingers pressing, trailing lower, to the curve of her calf. "It's a stress fracture at most," I continued, my voice steady, teasing. "You didn't need a full leg cast, a boot would have been enough, I'm sorry."
Claire didn't flinch. Didn't deny it. She just smiled. OMG she knew all along...
She rolled over me and then she kissed me again, harder this time, her tongue pushing into my mouth, taking control. I groaned, gripping her hips, feeling the way she pressed into me, the way her cast dug against my leg, pinning me in place.
When she pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath uneven. But her smile remained.
"I know," she whispered, her hand and fingers between my legs rubbing and teasing.
Then, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, she leaned in close, her voice a sultry promise against my ear.
"But you will need your own cast and crutches when I'm done with you Boss."
Claire's smile deepened as she pressed her body into mine, her breasts, her cast heavy against my thigh, pinning me down. Her fingers between my legs moved in slow, teasing strokes, her breath warm against my skin.
And then, just as my mind clouded with pleasure while I came, I saw the flash of metal.
With a flick of her wrist, she extended her police baton to its full length. The sharp, metallic snap echoed through the room, sending a spike of adrenaline through me.
Before I could react, she swung.
An incredible crack split the air as the baton slammed against my right leg. Blinding pain exploded through me, sharp and absolute. My scream was strangled, caught somewhere between agony, disbelief and pure sexual pleasure. I felt the bones give way, the brutal snap of my tibia, the crunch of my fibula fracturing under the force.
I rolled on the couch, gasping, my vision swimming with red-hot agony. My leg throbbed, the unnatural bend in it making my stomach churn.
Claire didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned in, straddling me fully now, her cast pressing into my fresh injury, making me groan in pain.
"Shhh baby," she murmured, her fingers trailing up my chest, her lips hovering just above mine.
And then she kissed me. Deep, slow, consuming. Her tongue claimed my mouth, demanding, savouring, as if my pain only fed her hunger. I shuddered beneath her, my body torn between agony and the raw intensity of her touch.
When she finally pulled back, she licked her lips, her gaze dark with something primal holding on to my free penis.
"There," she whispered, brushing a hand over my sweat-dampened forehead. "Now we will match."
The last thing I saw before my vision blurred was her satisfied red lips smiling licking my penis clean.
The end
K
Wednesday, March 12, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 10
The Deal Maker
Chapter 10
She snapped another picture but this time she let the straps of her black dress slip off her shoulders, revealing just the barest hint of her collarbone and the delicate curve of her neck. She leaned slightly on her crutches, her cast extended in a way that accentuated her petite frame. The dress clung to her curves, and the combination of her rigid cast against the soft fabric of the dress created a striking image. She tilted her head slightly and gave her phone a sultry, playful look.
She quickly reviewed the photo, it was provocative but still elegant, just the right balance. She sent it to him with the caption, "How's this for crossing a line, boss?"
My reply came almost instantly: "You're killing me, Claire. That cast is driving me wild. I want to run my hands over it, feel the texture, and kiss every inch of your skin that's still free. You're teasing me, and I'm loving every second of it."
She chuckled softly, a flush of heat spreading through her legs. "Careful, boss. You're starting to sound like you're forgetting I'm your employee."
"Right now, all I see is a breathtaking woman who's completely in control. Keep going, Claire. Keep pushing those boundaries."
Her heart raced at his words. She pulled the dress down a little further, letting it hug her waist exposing her firm breasts. She adjusted her pose, leaning slightly against the wall for support, her crutch resting beside her. She snapped another photo, this time with her lips slightly parted, her eyes holding a look of quiet confidence.
The caption she sent this time was simple but loaded: "Empowered, vulnerable, and all yours... for now."
My response was immediate, my tone more intense: "You're playing with fire, Claire. I want to be there right now, tracing every curve of that cast, feeling the warmth of your skin, and making you forget everything but the sound of my voice."
She bit her lip, her body responding to his words. She was enjoying this game of teasing and anticipation, but she also felt a growing ache for something more. She decided to up the ante.
Slowly, she slipped the dress off entirely, letting it pool at her feet. She stood there in nothing but her lingerie, the contrast between the soft lace and the hard fiber of her cast sending a shiver through her. She positioned herself carefully, using only one crutch for balance, and took another photo. This one was more daring, more intimate. Shadows played across her body, highlighting her cast and the delicate curves of her figure.
She sent it with the caption: "Boss, you're making it hard to focus on my recovery. What would you do if I fell, broke my leg again and end up in another 6 weeks in a cast and crutches ?"
My reply was raw and unfiltered: "Before they recast your broken leg, I'd kneel in front of you, my hands trembling as I traced the edge of your long leg. I'd kiss your broken ankle, then work my way up, leaving no inch of your skin untouched. You'd feel my breath on your thigh, my lips on your hip, and I'd make sure you knew exactly how much you're driving me crazy."
Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she read his words. She could almost feel his hands on her, his lips trailing up her leg. She leaned heavily on her crutch, her body trembling with desire.
"You're dangerous, boss," she typed back, her fingers shaking slightly. "But I think I like it."
"Good," I replied. "Because I'm not done with you yet. Keep going, Claire. Let me see more of you. Let me see how far you're willing to take this."
She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the boundaries even further. She set her phone on the stand again, positioning it to capture her from behind. She leaned forward slightly, her cast extended behind her, the lines of her tight ass creating a mesmerizing silhouette. She glanced over her shoulder at the camera, her expression...pure innocence.
The photo was perfect, very sensual, daring, and undeniably captivating. She sent it with the caption: "How's this for pushing boundaries?"
My response was immediate: "You're a sexy Claire. Every curve, every line, that cast... it's driving me wild. I wish I could be there to show you just how much you're affecting me. But for now, keep teasing me. Keep giving me more."
Her face lit up with a smile, as she shook with expectation. The sexual dance of flirtation had her spellbound, and she couldn't help but wonder where this seductive game would take her. With a deliberate slowness, she struck a pose, snapping a photo from a new vantage point, her stand so inviting. As she dropped her crutches, she leaned back against the edge of her desk.
"Like what you see Boss?"
"Fuck yes," I responded, sending a picture of my fully erected penis, already straining against my pants. "This is what you do to me."
Feeling desired, she took another picture, her lips slightly parted, tongue licking them. "I want you to touch yourself,"
"I'm in a meeting you sexy devil." She laughed softly, her eyes drawn to the picture of him.
"Good. I want you to be so hard for me...Sir. Imagine right now my long red cast on your lap, rubbing against your penis just the way you like it."
"I wish I could taste you," I replied, sending a picture of his face close to the screen, eyes filled with needs.
Taking another picture of her black lace thong. "I'm so wet for you," she confessed, her breath quickening. "I want you to come for me. Imagine it's now my mouth around your penis, sucking you deep."
"I'm close. So close," I admitted.
"Come for me. Come hard." I sent a picture of my penis, my hand moving fast, body tensing as I climaxed, spilling onto his stomach. Ending the call, she gazed at the pictures she'd sent, she couldn't wait to see him again.
Claire's invitation came later on that night.
"Come in," she murmured as she crutched away from the front door, the slow, deliberate movement only making her more irresistible and reminding me of her photos.
I followed without hesitation, my pulse thrumming with anticipation. The space was exactly as I imagined, minimalist, sleek, modern and yet undeniably intimate. The dim lighting cast soft shadows over the furniture, accentuating the deep red of her cast as she settled onto the couch, stretching her injured leg across the cushions.
"Make yourself comfortable," she said, but we both knew I wasn't here for comfort.
I hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. My body was tense, my thoughts clouded with need. This wasn't just about her anymore. It was about me. About the weight I had been carrying, the obsession I had fought so hard to keep buried.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. "Claire... I need to tell you something."
She arched her brow, curiosity flickering behind her glasses, her hand sliding along her cast.
"Go on."
I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "I..."
The Deal Maker
Conclusion to come
K
Tuesday, March 11, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 9
The Deal Maker
Chapter 9
She didn't shy away, didn't hesitate. She knew about my past and yet she gave herself to me completely, and I loved it.
She moaned into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair as I backed her against the glass wall of the elevator. My hands roamed over her lovely breasts, exploring every curve of her body, every inch of skin I could reach. She gasped as my lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake while she wiggled her cast between my legs.
"Oh god" she whispered, her voice trembling, and I could feel her heart racing just as fast as mine.
I didn't stop. My hands slipped under her dress, my fingers grazing the soft skin of her thighs at the top of her red cast before finding the edge of her lace thong. She shuddered, her body arching into mine as I slid my hand beneath the fabric, my fingers brushing against her vagina. She was so wet, so ready for me, and it drove me wild.
"Let me make you feel good," I murmured against her ear, my voice rough with desire.
Her head fell back against the glass as I touched her. My fingers moved slowly at first in and out of her, until she was gasping, her nails digging into my shoulders. I quickened my pace, feeling her body tense, her breaths growing shallow as she neared the edge of a first orgasm.
She moaned again, her voice breaking as she came undone, her body trembling against mine. I held her close with 2 fingers deep inside her, my lips pressing soft kisses to her neck as she rode out the waves of her pleasure.
When she finally stopped, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at me, her gaze filled with a mix of love and something deeper, something raw and real. "We need to talk," she whispered, her voice soft but steady.
"Talking is overrated," I replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. My heart swelled with emotion, and for a moment, it was just us, no past, no elevator, no world outside, just Claire and me. I picked up her crutches, handing them to her as I reset the elevator. She stood, leaning lightly on them, her cheeks still flushed, her lips curved into that knowing smile.
"You're going to make navigating this office a lot harder," she teased, her eyes sparkling.
"I'll be there to help if you fall and break your other leg," I said, grinning.
The doors slid open, and we stepped out into the hallway, her crutches clicking softly against the polished floor. I kept close beside her, my hand resting lightly on her ass teasing her. She glanced at me, her smile warm, and I knew no matter what, I'd always be there for her. But... she was mine.
I couldn't take my eyes off her.
The way Claire moved on those crutches, yes she was graceful, controlled, but also dripping with raw sensuality that was impossible to ignore. My obsession with her, with the contrast of pure sexual attractions and legal danger she embodied, was becoming harder to contain. The way her red cast peeked through the slit of her dress, the way her hips swayed ever so slightly as she crutched forward, was driving me insane.
She had to know.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder with that teasing smile. "You're staring...again" she said.
"Well miss Claire wearing a black dress like yours makes it impossible not to."
Claire turned fully toward me, crossed her leg and cast adjusting on her crutches, her weight shifting. With one hand she made the dress slip slightly off her shoulder, revealing just a little more skin and lovely breasts, just enough to know it was totally intentional.
"Is that so? It's not because of my sexy red cast? Or my tight ass? Or My lovely breasts begging to be kissed and licked? hummm" she murmured, licking her lips.
I stepped closer, drawn in, I could smell her perfume now, something light but intoxicating, something that made my pulse quicken.
"You so fascinate me miss," I admitted, my voice rougher than I intended.
Claire tilted her head, her gaze sharp, calculating. "I wonder sir," she mused, her tone almost mocking, "do you like me, or is it the cast that turns you on?"
My breath caught. She was playing with me. Testing me. Pushing just enough to see how far I'd let her go. I took another step, closing the last bit of space between us. Her crutches barely kept us apart.
"Both," I murmured, reaching out to trail my fingers along the edge of her cast. The texture of it under my touch sent a thrill through me. "But right now? I can't tell where one obsession ends and the other begins."
She was sure she had all the power in this moment. And yet, I knew the possibilities. Claire could be a plant from a competitor, someone sent to get close to me for all the wrong reasons or worse an undercover agent.
But none of it mattered. Because right now? I wanted her so bad.
Later on that same night after everybody left at the office and I was in a meeting, Claire sat at her desk, gazing at the modern office space around her. Her right leg in the red cast was resting on a spare chair beside her.
Her phone buzzed with a message from me. "Missing you already," it read. She smiled, her fingers tracing the screen as she replied, "I have a surprise for you, are you alone?"
"No I'm in the meeting"
Standing up with the aid of her crutches, she moved around the room. Setting her phone on a small stand, she took a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through her. This had to be perfect.
"Alright, let's do this," she whispered to herself, opening the camera app. Striking a pose, leg and long cast slightly crossed, one hand on her hip, and the other on one crutch, she tilted her head with a lovely smile.
After snapping the picture, she checked it immediately. It was ok, a bit suggestive. She sent it to me with the caption, "Empowered and broken limb. Missing you, boss."
His response was swift, "Fuck, you're hot. I wish I could be there to show you just how much I miss you and that cast of yours."
"Like what you see in this black dress?"
"I'd love to tear it off you this instant."
She nibbled on her lip, feeling her pulse quicken at his words. "Boss, isn't that crossing a line? I could sue you. But for now, enjoy these selfies instead."
She snapped another picture but this time she...
The Deal Maker
Chapter 10 to comer
K
Sunday, March 9, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 8
The Deal Maker
Chapter 8
A soft knock at the door broke her focus.
"Come in, Vanessa."
Detective Vanessa Price stepped inside, her piercing gaze sweeping over Claire from head to toe. The air between them was thick, the same unspoken sexual tension that had always lingered whenever they were alone. Vanessa's dark blazer was unbuttoned, her crisp white blouse slightly undone at the top, just enough to hint at something underneath. Her eyes lingered on Claire's cast before slowly drifting up her body.
"You clean up well, that black dress is amazing" Vanessa murmured, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "But I have to ask... are you sure you're up for this? That's a very dangerous man."
Claire arched a perfectly shaped brow, gripping her crutches with deliberate poise. "Since when do you worry about your undercover cops?" she countered, tilting her chin slightly.
Vanessa chuckled, stepping closer, close enough that Claire could catch the faint scent of her perfume, something warm, with a hint of spice.
"Fair point, but I can't help but wonder... What's the real play here?"
Claire shifted her weight, the movement accentuating the way her dress clung to her hips.
"You think I'm plotting something?"
Vanessa smiled. "I know you are." She reached out, fingertips just barely grazing the edge of Claire's cast. "Red suits you."
For a moment, Claire didn't move. The way Vanessa was looking at her, the way her breath ghosted over her skin, sent a familiar shiver down her spine. But she had a job to do. She straightened, breaking the moment, and adjusted the strap of her backpack.
"I have a meeting," she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she crutched past Vanessa, deliberately brushing against her. "Try to behave yourself, Detective."
Vanessa chuckled, watching her go, her gaze lingering on Claire's swaying hips and the rhythmic click of her crutches against the polished floor.
"Oh, Boss, where's the fun in behaving?"
She was so sexy in that dress, the subtle sway of her hips, the gentle slope of her shoulders, and the tantalizing swell of her breasts and the way the fabric hugged her waist The deep red of her cast stood out vividly against the dark material, turning heads with every rhythmic click of her crutches on the pavement. As she approached the waiting car, she caught the Uber driver's gaze lingering, deep blue eyes and unabashedly curious.
The driver, a young woman with a messy ponytail and dark eyeliner, scrambled out of the car.
"Hey, let me help you," she said, a little breathless as she quickly reached for Claire's crutches the moment she settled into the seat.
Claire smirked, shifting her long leg cast slightly, making sure to be in full view for the cute driver. She caught the way the girl's eyes flickered down, hesitating just a second too long before awkwardly clearing her throat and shutting the door behind her.
As they pulled onto the road, the driver kept sneaking glances at the red cast. Finally, she couldn't help herself. "Sorry, I don't mean to stare. It's just, I had a girlfriend in high school who broke her leg during spring break. Full leg cast, too. But hers was pink. It brings memories"
Claire raised a brow, intrigued. "Pink, huh? I bet she was very cute."
The driver chuckled. "Yeah, she thought so too. At first. But after a few weeks of hobbling around on her crutches, I don't think she found it so much fun." She glanced at Claire through the rear view mirror. "What about you? What happened?"
Claire's lips curled into a smile, her tongue licking them, as she shifted ever so subtly in her seat. "I don't have any wild spring break tales to share, sadly. Just a little mishap."
They were at a red light and saw the cute driver stare at her broken ankle. So her gaze dropped, her hand moving with deliberate slowness along the length of her cast, her fingers tracing the contours with her nails gliding on her long cast as if savouring the sensation.
"I was...having wild sex with my wife," she began making it up, her voice low and husky. "I got a bit too aggressive during bondage, and my enthusiasm got the better of me. While tying her down, I lost my balance and tumbled off the bed, landing badly. The next thing I saw and heard was my leg breaking in two places."
The driver winced. "Wow bondage gone wrong. That sounds amazing, I mean painful miss."
Claire smiles, her lips curving playfully. "It was so painful. But now? I kind of like the attention my cast gets."
The driver swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as her gaze flickered back to the striking red cast and Claire just smiled
The car rolled to a stop in front of Claire's building. The driver was out in an instant, hurrying around to open the door. Claire swung her good leg out first, adjusting her balance as the young woman grabbed her crutches from the backseat.
"Here," the driver said, holding them out.
Claire took her time, deliberately brushing her fingers against the driver's as she accepted them. She shifted forward, planting the rubber tips of the crutches on the pavement, and pushed herself up gracefully. The woman watched, clearly mesmerized by the sight of Claire balancing on her crutches.
She was so ready to move toward the entrance of the building. Each step sent a sensual sway through her body, the crutches clicking in a hypnotic rhythm. She didn't look back, she knew the young driver's eyes were still on her.
Inside, the cold air felt nice against her flushed skin. She pressed the button for the elevator, shifting slightly as she adjusted her stance. When the doors slid open, she stepped inside, only to realize she wasn't alone.
I followed in after her, my breath catching just slightly at the sight of her against the sleek glass walls of the elevator. Claire looked... unreal. Her short and tight black dress hugged her body like a second skin, and that red cast? It was a striking contrast, bold, unmissable. She was a fetishist dream woman.
I was so turned on.
She leaned lightly on her crutches effortlessly, confident, yet something about the way she held herself made my pulse quicken. Maybe it was the way her lips curved into a knowing smile, or how her eyes flickered to mine, sharp and teasing.
The doors slid shut.
We were all ALONE.
I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the slow hum of the elevator as it ascended. The glass around us reflected every detail, her poised stance, the smooth arch of her neck, her beautiful and strong left leg, the rise and fall of her chest beneath the fabric of her dress.
"You keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you have a thing for injured women."
I stepped just a little closer. "Maybe I do, but first who do you work for Claire?" I asked.
And with that, I pressed the emergency button and stopped the elevator, the soft hum of machinery halting as the car came to a standstill. She froze for a moment, her beautiful green eyes widening slightly before she smiled trying to regain control, her lips curving into that playful smile I loved so much.
"Bold move," she teased, her voice low and smooth.
I didn't respond with words. Instead, I closed the distance between us, my hands finding her waist as I pulled her close. Her crutches clattered to the floor, but neither of us cared. Her arms wrapped around my neck for balance on her high heel shoe. Her body then pressed against mine, and I kissed her, hard, deep, and full of sexual expectations.
She moaned into my mouth, her right leg in its full leg cast, bent at the knee, brushing against my penis as I pressed her against the elevator wall. I was in total control, and she knew it. Her body yielded to mine, her hands gripping my shoulders for balance, her lips parting hungrily as I deepened the kiss.
The way she sexually surrendered to me, her breath, her whimpers muffled against my mouth, sent a renewed surge through me. She was strong, confident, and unbreakable, yet here she was, completely at my mercy.
I think she also knew... that I liked it even more like this. There was something about the contrast of her leg cast, her crutches, her vulnerability mixed with her unshakable confidence, that made her even more irresistible.
She didn't shy away, didn't hesitate. She knew about my past and yet she gave herself to me completely, and I loved it.
The Deal Maker
Chapter 9 to come
K
Friday, March 7, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 7
The Deal Maker
Chapter 7
"Who are you working for, Claire? Who the fuck are you really?" I whispered, letting the words linger, my fingers grazing the edge of her jaw before I kissed her lovely lips...
There was a flicker of something, fear? Amusement? passing through her green eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same smile she always wore when she was playing a game. She tilted her head slightly, her lips almost brushing against my jaw.
"Now, why would you ask me something like that Boss?"
I didn't move, didn't break eye contact. My fingers still rested lightly on her thigh, just beneath the hem of her hospital gown, wetness inches from my fingers, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric.
"Because something doesn't add up."
She chuckled softly, but there was an edge to it. "You just bribed a doctor to put me in a full leg cast for six weeks. And you're questioning me?"
My eyes locked onto hers, unwavering. I could feel the sexual tension building between us, the air thick with anticipation.
"I'm not questioning you, Claire. I'm warning you. You see, I have a few...investments, in certain individuals, and I have reason to believe you're not who you say you are." My fingers danced along her vagina, sending shivers down her spine.
"I think you're getting a little too worked up over nothing, Boss." She tried to sound casual, but I could sense the faintest tremble in her words while I slid one finger inside her....
Dr. Reynolds nervously scribbled a note on the chart after what he witnessed. "I'll send the nurse in to prep you for casting." I watched as Claire shifted in her seat, her fingers trailing absently over the curve of her knee.
Six weeks.
I had just made a very, very satisfying deal.
Claire was on the casting table, her long leg stretched out as the nurse prepped the materials. The bright red fibreglass that Claire chose sat on the tray beside her, waiting to be wrapped around her delicate, injured limb. I sat close, closer than necessary, watching every careful movement as the nurse lifted Claire's leg. The way her toes curled slightly, the way her muscles tensed when they positioned her just right.
First, the soft stockinette slid up, covering her foot and stretching all the way up to her thigh. Claire reacted when the cool padding followed, layer upon layer wrapping snugly around her calf, her knee, her upper thigh. Then came the fibreglass.
The first strip of casting material was moistened and rolled gently around her ankle, the material stiffening slowly. I watched, captivated, as her sleek, toned leg, a sight I'd come to admire, slowly disappeared under the layers. The doctor worked meticulously, his hands shaping the material around the delicate arch of her foot, locking it into a perfect, immobile position at a precise 90-degree angle.
Her long, graceful leg, once so fluid and free, was now in something equally mesmerizing. The perfect red cast followed her every contour, as if it were an artist's creation. I couldn't look away as the doctor continued, layer by layer, wrapping her leg in a vibrant, deep red cast. The color was striking, bold yet elegant, like the woman herself I had to admit regarding if she was in my office for my downfall.
As the final strip was smoothed into place, the transformation was complete. Her leg, once a vision of natural strength, was now wrapped in that stunning red cast. The sensuality of it was undeniable, the way it hugged her form, the way it seemed to accentuate her femininity rather than diminish it. Her injury made her even more sexy.
Claire exhaled slowly when the nurse left, her head tilting toward me. "Happy now?"
I dragged my gaze up her body, taking in the way the red cast gleamed under the fluorescent light. The way it followed the shape of her long leg, from toes to thigh, leaving her utterly dependent on those crutches because of the angle of the cast at her knee.
I leaned in, my voice a whisper meant only for her. "Ecstatic, you look perfect Miss Claire or whatever is your real name."
Later on that night, Claire had been resting on the couch, her full leg cast propped up on a stack of pillows, when a sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Dressed in nothing but a soft, fitted t-shirt and snug yoga pants, no bra and underwear, she shifted, feeling the cool fabric stretch over her round breasts while teasing her nipples. A long white sock covered the foot and lower leg portion of her cast, keeping her exposed toes war. She exhaled through her nose, already knowing who it was
Her friend and handler, Detective Vanessa Price.
With a quiet groan, Claire shifted forward, bracing her hands on the cushions. Moving was still a struggle. Her cast was long, heavy, awkward, and every movement sent dull throbs up her ankle and leg. She reached for her crutches, gripping them tightly as she moved herself upright.
A deep breath. Then another. And finally, she crutched her way toward the door, her leg cast was bent at the knee and it was impossible for her to put any weight on it so she had to rely on crutches full time.
Another knock, this time more insistent.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," she muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip on the crutches as she reached the door.
When she swung it open, Vanessa Price was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. Her sharp brown eyes flickered over Claire's body, lingering for a moment too long on the erected nipples.
"Well, look at you," Vanessa drawled, stepping inside without an invitation. She let the door swing shut behind her. "I leave you with a sprained ankle and you come back with a double fractured leg? Didn't take you for the damsel-in-distress type."
Claire rolled her eyes and hobbled back toward the couch, but she felt Vanessa's gaze trailing her. The way she watched every movement, the slight sway of Claire's hips, the way the fabric of her yoga pants stretched over the long cast.
"Are you enjoying the view?" Claire tossed over her shoulder.
"Immensely," Vanessa admitted, following her into the living room. "Never thought I'd see you like this so vulnerable."
Claire lowered herself back onto the couch, setting her crutches aside. "I'm not vulnerable. I'm sure it's not even broken"
Vanessa arched a brow, stepping closer. "Oh, really?" She let her fingers trail along the surface of the red cast, her touch deliberate. "Looks to me like you're stuck here, waiting for someone to take care of you."
"Cut to the chase, Vanessa, why are you here?"
Vanessa smiled and sat down beside her, she was close, too close. "You know why. Your little accident changes things. You're out of commission for a while, which means I need an update."
"No way, nothing's changed. I'm handling him. He's mine, I will get him to confess"
Vanessa's fingers trailed down Claire's cast again, slow, almost absentminded. "Doesn't look like you're handling much of anything right now." Her voice dipped lower, more intimate. "Tell me, Claire... does he know you're a cop?"
Claire swallowed hard, meeting Vanessa's gaze and lied. "No but I know he wont be able to resist me in this long red cast."
"Good." Vanessa's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Because I'd hate to see what he'd do if he found out who you really are." Looking at her friend's leg cast and sock covering her little toes.
The next morning, Claire sat on the edge of her sleek leather couch, her polished nails gliding over the smooth fabric of her black dress as she adjusted its hem. The black dress hugged her perfectly, sophisticated yet very seductive, its deep V-neck revealing just enough to tempt without giving too much away.
Her red cast was partially propped on the ottoman in front of her. She then reached for her crutches, their cool metal steadying her as she carefully stood into position. She was getting better at this, balancing elegance with necessity.
A soft knock at the door broke her focus.
The Deal Maker
Chapter 8 to come
K
Thursday, March 6, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 6
The Deal Maker
Chapter 6
I watched Claire as she made her way toward my SUV, her long legs looking so graceful despite the awkward rhythm of the crutches. With every step her hands tightening the rubber as she swung her injured leg forward. The swelling and purple ankle drawing my gaze like a magnet.
She paused beside the passenger door, all her weight onto her good leg. Her green eyes flicked up to mine, expectant.
"Are you going to open the door, or are you just going to stare at me all night?" she teased, almost forgetting that I'm the owner and her immediate supervisor.
I smile, stepping forward. "I'm admiring the view."
She rolled her eyes but didn't hide the smile on her lips.
I opened the door, sliding an arm around her waist to help her up into the seat. She smelled so good. My hands lingered just a second longer than necessary as I lifted her injured ankle, guiding it carefully inside before resting it across the center console. I grabbed her crutches and tossed them into the backseat.
The drive was quiet, but the sexual tension between us crackled like electricity. Claire shifted slightly, adjusting her seat, and her injured leg slid on my lap.
Every red light became an opportunity.
My fingers skimmed over the swelling, tracing her injured ankle and foot. Vulnerable on my lap, the curve of her arch tempting me like never before. I let my palm drift lower, over her toes, feeling the way they flexed instinctively at my touch. She sucked in a quiet breath, watching me through half-lidded eyes.
"You like looking and touching my injured limb, don't you?" she asked, voice teasing, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.
I didn't even bother denying it. "Guilty."
Her smirk widened, and she shifted slightly, deliberately stretching her leg out just a little more. Offering me a better view. A silent invitation and she was rubbing it against my penis.
"At least buy me dinner next time before you... you know..." she murmured, her voice laced with something dangerously tempting.
I let my thumb graze the top of her foot, watching the way her breathing changed at the painful touch. She arched a delicate brow, her lips parting as if to respond but the light turned green, and I pressed the gas, sending us forward to the hospital, tension thick in the air between us
Claire sighed as I helped her out of the SUV, only her good foot touching the ground before she steadied herself on her crutches. The hospital doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and the sterile scent of disinfectant filled the air. Later on we checked in at radiology, and within minutes, a nurse in blue scrubs called Claire's name. I walked with her as she crutched down the hall, her ankle stiff and unable to move now.
The room was dimly lit, the only real illumination coming from the monitors and the lightbox on the wall. A tall, middle-aged radiology tech with square glasses gestured toward the X-ray table.
"Alright, Miss Claire, let's get you situated. We're taking images of the ankle, lower leg and foot."
Claire nodded as I helped her onto the table, my hands lingering under her thigh longer than necessary as I lifted her leg into place. The tech didn't seem to notice or if he did, he didn't care.
"Okay, now, I need you to hold still while I position your foot."
He gently took hold of her injured limb and adjusted her foot onto a small padded block, angling her ankle slightly outward. Claire winced, sucking in a breath through her teeth.
"That uncomfortable?" he asked
"Just a little," she admitted.
I stood beside the table, watching intently as the tech adjusted the X-ray machine above her leg. I could see the way her toes curled slightly as she braced for the discomfort.
"Alright, hold still," the tech said, stepping behind the protective glass. "One more angle," he said, stepping forward again. He gently turned Claire's ankle inward, just a bit more than before. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, breathing hard.
"You're doing great, Claire."
We waited in a small exam room, Claire absentmindedly wiggling her toes. She looked relaxed, but I could see the subtle tension in her shoulders.
"I will be right back Claire, I will get us some coffees"
I met the doctor, a man in his late 40s with a confident stride and a crisp white coat. He flipped through Claire's chart, barely glancing at the X-rays.
"Well sir I've reviewed the images of your wife's ankle and lower leg, and the good news is It's just a third degree sprain, nothing is broken. A walking boot for a few weeks, and she'll be good as new."
Offering the doctor a firm handshake, holding it just a second longer than necessary.
"Doctor..." I glanced at his name tag, "...Dr. Reynolds. Let's talk."
He gave me a wary look. "About what?"
I smiled, slipping my hand into my pocket. "I'm a man who appreciates... certain aesthetics."
I let my gaze drift toward Claire's X Rays. "And I'd like a second opinion from you sir on that X-ray."
His brows furrowed. "I don't understand"
I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "Come on, doc. Do you know who I am? I know a simple sprained ankle when I see one. But I also know how these things can be... reassessed." I let my fingers against his arm.
"What if this wasn't just a serious sprain? What if... it required a bit more care?"
His gaze flickered toward my face and eyes, then I could tell he realized who I was.
I smirked. "Six weeks. A full leg cast. That's what I'm thinking is in poor Claire's future and for you next time you need anything, I mean anything I'm your man Dr. I'm a very good friend to have in your pocket"
He hesitated, flipping back through the X-rays. After a long pause, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You're persistent."
"No, I'm a deal maker." I said, he sighed, shaking his head walking into Claire's room.
"Well, Claire... upon examination, it looks like you actually fractured both the tibia and fibula at the ankle. That means..." He glanced at me before continuing. "We'll need to immobilize your entire leg. Full cast, six weeks, non weight bearing and crutches."
Claire's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Are you sure? That's impossible."
I leaned in closer, my lips just inches from her ear. I brushed a slow, deliberate kiss against her skin, my tongue flicking lightly, my breath warm as I exhaled a quiet moan.
"Who are you working for, Claire? Who the fuck are you really?" I whispered, letting the words linger, my fingers grazing the edge of her jaw before I kissed her lovely red lips...
The Deal Maker
Chapter 7 to come
K
Wednesday, March 5, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 5
The Deal Maker
Chapter 5
For a short moment, as I met Claire's green eyes, a memory surfaced. A woman I once dated, lets call her Charlotte since her case against me is still in the court system. Tall, poised, with the same sharp gaze that held more challenge than submission. She had always teased, always pushed boundaries. And one night, she had pushed just a little too far.
It had started as a game, playful resistance turning into something else. A misstep, a push, a stumble, her ankle giving way beneath her first as she landed hard, the sharp crack of pain cutting through the night when her tibia broke in 3 places.
I remembered the way she clung to me, the weight of her in my arms as I carried her inside. The hours in the emergency room, the slow realization that she was going to be in a leg cast for months with crutches.
Three days later, she sent me a photo, her entire leg immobilized in a pristine white cast, stretching from her toes to her upper thigh. Well, you finally did it, she had written, a smirk in her voice even through text. You wanted to see me in a cast, now you get to pay for it, I know you pushed me down. My lawyer will contact you.
That damn female lawyer...
I didn't even realize it at first. My fingers, wrapped around Claire's delicate ankle, pressing, twisting. The way the bandages shifted under my grip, the slight resistance beneath my touch. Her foot bent awkwardly in my hands, the arch straining unnaturally, her toes flexing as if searching for balance that wasn't there. The soft wrap around her ankle did little to mask the way it angled just a bit too far inward, the tendons beneath my fingertips tightening in protest.
I should have let go. I should have eased my grip.
But instead, I held it there for just a moment longer, mesmerized by the vulnerability of it, the way her injured foot trembled slightly, the bandages pressing into the swelling just beneath the surface. The angle was unnatural.
I didn't register the warning until her voice cut through the haze.
"Sir... please let go of my ankle."
I blinked, snapping out of whatever trance had taken hold of me, my hands still cradling the vulnerable joint. Slowly, I released her, my palms lingering for just a second longer than they should have, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the layers of compression. I muttered an apology, but Claire only exhaled, adjusting in her seat, rubbing at her lower leg like she was trying to erase the lingering sensation of my hands and possibly broken bones.
I lifted my gaze from her ankle to her face, concerned as I met those piercing green eyes. Claire's lips parted, her lovely chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. A quiet moan escaped her, barely audible but thick with something I couldn't quite name.
"I think..." she murmured, her voice uncertain, laced with the barest hint of pain. "I think my leg or my ankle might be broken, sir."
The words sent a slow pulse through me, heavy and electric. My grip on her ankle loosened slightly, but I could still feel the warmth of her skin through the bandages, the slight tremor of her muscles beneath my fingertips.
"You think so?" My voice came out lower than I intended, my thumb brushing along the curve of her foot, testing.
Claire winced, her breath hitching. "It feels... wrong. Like it's not supposed to be bent that way."
"Let me check it," I murmured, my voice softer now, measured. She hesitated for just a moment, then gave a slow nod, licking her lips. "You need to stay still for me," I said, my tone deeper now, controlled.
I reached for the small metal clip securing the Ace bandage in place, my fingers grazing against the stretched fabric. Claire's green eyes watched me, her lips slightly parted, her breath shallow while her left hand was between her legs.
Slowly, deliberately, I unfastened the clip, letting it slip between my fingers. The bandage wound tightly around her ankle, held onto the curve of her leg, resisting slightly as I caught the first layer between my fingertips.
I started to unravel it, guiding the fabric away from her skin with a careful touch. The soft, textured material glided over my fingers, unwinding in slow, steady loops. With each rotation, more of her leg was revealed, the delicate slope of her ankle, the gentle swell of bruising.
Her calf tensed slightly, as if she wasn't sure whether to relax into my hands or pull away.
"Easy, almost there, I won't hurt you, I promise."
As I reached the final wrap, I let the fabric fall away, exposing her completely. Her ankle lay bare in my hands, flushed, swollen, vulnerable and possibly broken. I let my fingertips hover just above the fracture for a moment, absorbing the sight of her foot resting so delicately in my grip. The natural arch, the faint tremble as she adjusted, the way her toes flexed as if testing their freedom.
I traced a slow path along the side of her ankle, feeling the slight heat radiating from the tender joint.
"Does that hurt?" I asked, pressing lightly.
"Yes... You're... really enjoying this, aren't you?" Claire's voice broke through the haze, teasing yet breathless.
I smirked, my thumb pressing gently against the tender spot just above her arch. "I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it." I let the pressure linger a moment longer before meeting her gaze again.
"So, doctor... what's the verdict?"
"Oh, sweetheart," I murmured, tightening my grip. " You need X Rays but I think you're going to need a lot more than just a few bandages."
I slid my hand beneath Claire's knee, my other arm wrapping around her waist as I helped her up from the chair. She was warm against me, her scent a mix of soft perfume and something more intoxicating, something uniquely her. She sucked in a breath as her bare, injured ankle and foot brushed the floor..
"Easy," I murmured, pulling her closer.
Her body pressed against mine for just a moment before I guided her crutches into her hands. Claire's lips parted slightly as she steadied herself, balancing on her good leg. Her pencil skirt rode just a bit higher as she shifted, the sleek fabric hugging her curves in all the right places.
I leaned in, our lips meeting in a soft, gentle kiss. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my face. She let out a soft sigh as I deepened the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lovely lips. She opened for me, her tongue meeting mine, a soft moan escaping her lips when she put down her injured limb.
She backed up slightly and I slid my hand down her leg, pulling her injured ankle in my hands, feeling the swelling of her possibly broken ankle and leg against my fingers. She was soft and warm, her body fitting perfectly against mine. I could feel her heart racing, could feel her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I lifted her injured limb even higher, I kissed her ankle, trailing my lips along her foot, ankle and lower leg, hearing her moan.
She let out a soft whimper when I lovingly and slowly twisted her foot, her head falling back. I could see the goosebumps rising on her skin.
"You're so beautiful," I murmured against her toes and foot, my hands running up and down.
"You are so goddamn beautiful broken Claire."
She let out a soft sensual moan while dropping her crutches, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. I could feel the heat between us, and could feel the tension building.
I trailed my lips back up to hers, capturing her in a deep, passionate kiss. I could feel her body melting into mine, and I could feel her desire matching my own.
I slid my hand up to her chest, my thumb brushing against the swell of her breast, against her fully erected nipples. She let out a soft gasp, her eyes wanting more but it was time to go.
She re-positioned her crutches and exhaled slowly. "Guess I really can't put any weight on it now."
I smiled, my gaze drifting down to her exposed, vulnerable foot, swollen ankle, delicate, and now free of its bandages.
"No, you can't," I said, my voice laced with something deeper. "Let's get you to the hospital."
The Deal Maker
Chapter 6 to come
K
Tuesday, March 4, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 4
The Deal Maker
Chapter 4
A mischievous, devilish smile curled her lips. Making her way to the door, she grabbed her stylish ladies backpack and her phone. She stepped into the hallway on her crutches clicking against the hardwood floor and stopped in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. She stared at herself, her toned legs, her sprained ankle, the elegant sway of her skirt, the delicate contrast of vulnerability and in being total control.
Claire stepped out of the building slowly, the cool morning air brushing against her legs as she adjusted her grip on the crutches. The tight wrap of the Ace bandage around her right ankle sent a constant dull throb up her leg with every movement, but she welcomed it. Pain made it real and maybe did more than that
A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, her Uber arriving right on time. The driver, a tall man in his late thirties with warm brown eyes, quickly got out and moved around to open the door for her. His gaze flickered down, taking in the contrast of her long, smooth leg in sheer pantyhose and the other wrapped snugly in beige bandages, floating off the pavement.
"Need a hand, Miss Claire?" he asked, his voice rich with concern.
Claire offered him a small smile. "That obvious, huh?"
He chuckled, extending a hand. "I've seen plenty of people try to tough it out. Trust me, it's easier if you let someone help."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, just enough for him to see it, then nodded, letting him steady her as she eased onto the seat. His hands were firm but careful, fingers brushing against her waist as she adjusted her position.
Once she was settled, she shifted her bandaged foot inside, flexing it slightly with a soft wince.
"Guess I won't be running any marathons soon."
He smiled as he closed the door. "Well, if you need another ride later, I'll be around. Try not to get into too much trouble on those crutches and high heel." Claire smiled, watching him through the window as he walked back around. Oh, if only he knew.
The moment Claire stepped into the office, I felt the air shift. A hush seemed to follow her like the room itself had paused to take her in. My eyes trailed over her, unable to help the way they lingered on her long legs. With her crutches under her arms, she moved with practiced elegance, her knee slightly bent, her bandaged foot hovering just above the polished floor.
The grey pencil skirt clung to her and her white blouse lay perfectly tucked, the buttons drawing my eyes downward, teasingly hinting at what lay beneath. It all made her look effortlessly powerful, despite the vulnerability of her injury. Her pantyhose shimmered slightly under the office lights, one leg sleek and perfect, the other wrapped in bandages, a striking contrast that I couldn't tear my gaze from.
She moved across the room, her crutches clicking softly against the floor with her good foot, elegant in a high stiletto heel. The curve of her calf is accentuated by the delicate arch. The contrast was mesmerizing, carefully held to avoid any pressure and pain.
My eyes traced the length of her injured leg, drawn to the thick Ace bandages on her foot, ankle and lower calf. For a moment, I wondered how close her injury was to a need for a leg cast, perhaps? The thought sent a shiver through me. And then, my mind wandered further, what if it were a full leg cast, stretching from her delicate toes all the way up her lovely thigh? The image was almost too much, my pulse quickening at the mere idea.
Every shift of her body sent a quiet sexual thrill through me. The way her hips swayed with each calculated movement, the slight wince as she adjusted her balance, the way her wrapped ankle hovered just above the floor, all of it demanded attention. She was a vision of vulnerability and sexiness, every inch of her exuding pure hot attraction.
I moved before I even realized it, I stood, my body acting on instinct. "Here, let me help," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Claire's lips parted slightly, amusement flickering across her face, but she didn't refuse me. Instead, she allowed me to guide her gently toward her office chair. She sank into it with a sigh, her grip on the crutches loosening as she leaned back.
Without thinking, I knelt before her, my hands instinctively reaching for her injured ankle. The bandages were snug, wrapped expertly around the delicate joint, but I could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the layers of fabric. The moment my fingers brushed over the curve of her foot, a jolt ran up my spine.
"Does it hurt?" I asked, my voice lower now, almost hushed.
She studied me, eyes sharp but unreadable. "Not too bad," she murmured. "As long as I don't move it too much, put any weight on it at all or you don't twist it."
I nodded, barely breathing as I lifted her foot just slightly, resting it on my thigh to elevate it. My thumb traced lightly over the bandage. A shiver ran through me at the contrast of the firmness of the wrapping, and the softness of her skin just beneath it. For a moment, I lost track of where I was, who I was supposed to be in this scenario. My fingers lingered longer than they should have, caressing along the outer curve of her ankle, my touch feather-light but deliberate.
Claire inhaled sharply, her back straightening just a fraction. A slow, knowing smile curled at the edges of her lips.
"Be careful sir, my sprained ankle is very sore" she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
Reality snapped back into focus like a rubber band pulled too tight. I withdrew my hand, clearing my throat as I shifted back slightly. "
"I'm sorry I was just making sure you're comfortable," I said, forcing a casual smile, though my pulse thundered in my ears.
Claire's gaze lingered on me for a beat too long between my legs, something unreadable flickering in her expression looking at my fully erected penis. Then, just as smoothly as she always did, she settled back against the chair, her injured ankle now comfortably elevated, her fingers grazing the crutches at her side as if reminding me exactly what had drawn my attention in the first place.
Later on that day I leaned back in my chair, staring at the phone for a moment before pressing the page button.
"Claire, can you come to my office?" My voice was smooth, controlled, but inside, I was already picturing it. The way she'd move. The sound of her crutches tapping softly against the floor. The way she'd look at me.
A pause. Then her voice, low and teasing through the speaker. "On my way Sir."
Moments later, she appeared in the doorway, leaning gracefully on her crutches, her injured foot hovering just inches above the floor.That pencil skirt hugged her curves like it had been made just for her, the fabric sculpting over the gentle flare of her hips before tapering down above her knees, her crisp white blouse accentuating the lines of her breasts. But it was her legs, long, perfect, one in pantyhose, the other wrapped in Ace bandages that held me captive.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked, arching a brow, shifting her weight ever so slightly. The movement sent a small shiver up my spine.
I gestured toward the chair beside me. "Have a seat please."
She gave me a slow smile, taking her time as she moved toward it, the deliberate sway of her hips accentuated by the uneven rhythm of her steps. She sat, carefully lifting her wrapped ankle off the ground, her lips parting just slightly as she adjusted.
Before she could settle, I was already moving. Sliding a spare chair in front of her. Reaching for her injured ankle.
"Let me," I murmured, my fingers grazing the curve of her calf, feeling the silkiness of her pantyhose before they slid lower, wrapping around the firm bandages protecting her injured ankle. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, her muscles tensing just slightly as I lifted her foot, carefully resting it on the chair in front of her.
She exhaled, a slow, measured breath, her lips parting as she adjusted in her seat. My grip lingered, my thumb pressing lightly against the wrapped joint. A test. A tease.
"Still tender?" I asked, my voice deliberately low as I let my fingers slide, squeezing gently, feeling the give of the bandages beneath my touch.
Claire let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "What do you think?"
I pressed a little more, feeling the delicate resistance of her ankle beneath my hands, wondering. Just how much pressure... how much of a twist... would it take to turn this into something more? Something that required more than just a simple wrap, something rigid, unyielding. A leg cast, maybe.
For a short moment, as I met Claire's green eyes, a memory surfaced...
The Deal Maker
Chapter 5 to come
K
Sunday, March 2, 2025
The Deal Maker chapter 3
The Deal Maker
Chapter 3
Then, ever so slowly, Vanessa's other hand slid up Claire's calf, fingertips gliding over her pantyhose, savouring the curve of muscle beneath.
"You always wear such pretty shoes," her voice teasing as her fingers trailed along the delicate strap of Claire's stiletto. With a gentle but firm touch, she unfastened the buckle, the faint metallic click echoing in the dimly lit room. She slid her hand beneath Claire's arch, lifting her foot slightly as she tugged the shoe free, exposing her foot against the cool air.
Claire exhaled, watching Vanessa's every movement with her green eyes, the loss of her heel making her feel oddly vulnerable. But clearly Vanessa wasn't done. Her thumb traced slow, deliberate circles along the arch of her foot before pressing lightly against the delicate bones of her ankle.
"You have no idea how easy it would be to break your ankle... But I won't," she murmured, fingers caressing the joint with something almost like reverence. She turned Claire's foot gently, rotating it in small, methodical motions, testing the flexibility before pressing her thumbs along the tendons, feeling the slight resistance.
Claire sucked in a breath when Vanessa applied the smallest bit of pressure. It wasn't painful...yet...but there was an intimacy to it, an awareness in the way Vanessa's fingers played over the vulnerable spot.
"Are you sure you want this?" Vanessa asked, her voice low, her hands waiting just long enough for Claire to make the final call.
Claire swallowed, then gave a slow nod. "Do it."
Vanessa's grip tightened, her fingers firm but teasing as they circle Claire's slender ankle. Her gaze never wavered, studying Claire's every reaction as she slowly began to rotate the delicate joint. The smooth skin beneath her palm was warm, tense, bracing for what was coming.
With a deliberate, measured movement, she twisted, just enough, finding that perfect angle. A sharp jolt shot through Claire's ankle, spiralling up her calf like a slow burn. Her breath caught, a small gasp escaping her red lips, as her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her. The tendons in her foot shifted under Vanessa's touch, her toes curling slightly inside the high heel still dangling from her other foot.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sensation a mix of pain and something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name. Vanessa's thumb brushed over the now-tender curve of her ankle, lingering, testing, almost savouring.
"There, it's ok..." Vanessa murmured, releasing her with a slow, almost affectionate glide of her hand down Claire's calf. "Now you've got your sprain."
Claire reached blindly for her glasses, sliding them back onto her nose. Her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. She glanced down at her ankle, now beginning to swell, a deep shade of purple and red blooming beneath the delicate skin. The shape had already changed slightly, her foot angled awkwardly, the soft curves of her instep contrasting with the sharp tension in her ligaments. Her black stocking was torn at the side, exposing the injured flesh, while her high heel lay nearby.
With a slow smile curling on her lips. "Perfect." Claire exhaled sharply, wincing as she gingerly flexed her toes. "It looks bad enough, doesn't it?"
"It'll sell the act. He'll have no choice but to react. Let the games begin"
Vanessa crouched, hands steadying Claire's calf as she traced a thumb over the quickly swelling ankle. "Perfectly sprained. Nothing serious, just enough to make you limp with pain and use crutches if you want. Think you can play the part?"
Claire smiles, biting her lower lip before nodding. "Oh, I can play it. I was a theatre major before joining the firm"
Vanessa leaned in slightly, her breath warm against Claire's flushed skin. "Then go reel him in. And remember... the best predators let their prey think they're the ones in control." She grinned through the pain, already imagining the next step of the game.
The next morning, Claire sat at the edge of her bed, her injured foot resting delicately on her lap. If he were watching her now, how would he see her? She imagined his gaze lingering, dark and intrigued over her leg and injured ankle, as she carefully rubbed with the Ace bandage rolled the puffiness of her ankle, pressing just enough to make herself wince, the sensation a mix of dull ache and tingling awareness.
She felt wetness between her legs as she smoothed the bandage over the swollen joint again, the gentle friction sending a shiver up her calf. She wasn't just dressing for a sprain, she was crafting a scene, an image, one that would settle into his mind and stay there.
Would he picture her like this? Perched on the edge of her bed, one bare foot flexing, the other bound in soft restraint, her thighs shifting as she adjusted? Would he wonder how it felt when she slid her fingers along her sprained ankle to the arch of her foot, down to her toes, testing her own limits?
Or would he want to break it to see her in a cast? The thought sent a pulse of satisfaction through her.
She rolled the second bandage snugly, exhaling through her nose, securing her injured ankle that still throbbed from the night before. She winced slightly, adjusting the tension, ensuring it was snug but not too tight. Every motion sent pain up her calf, a constant reminder of Vanessa's careful handiwork.
She admired the contrast of the pale bandage against her smooth pantyhose, the sheer fabric shimmering faintly under the morning light. It was just tight enough to support her without completely immobilizing her foot. The ache lingered, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, but she didn't mind the pain; it was all part of the plan.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Claire stood carefully, placing her weight on her good foot before reaching for the outfit she had picked for the day. She slipped into a sleek grey skirt that hugged her hips and thighs, stopping just above the knee. The soft material stretched as she moved, accentuating the long, graceful lines of her legs.
A white blouse tucked neatly into the waistband, completing the look of pure sophistication. Next came her shoes, at least, one of them. She picked up her classic black stiletto, sliding her left foot inside, the familiar arching curve instantly transforming her posture. Was that dangerous while using crutches she wondered.
Her gaze drifted to her bandaged foot, pale and vulnerable against the hardwood floor. She flexed it slightly, testing the movement she tried to put weight on it, a sharp pain through her ankle in response.
"Fuck," she murmured, grabbing onto the nightstand for balance. The pain was real, deep enough to send another pulse of warmth through her calf.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the crutches propped against the wall. Their cool metal felt solid under her hands as she adjusted them to the perfect height on her heel. With slow, deliberate movements, she eased her weight off her bad ankle, shifting smoothly onto the crutches. The moment she was upright, she felt the delicious contrast. One foot grounded in a sleek, polished heel, the other wrapped in soft layers of bandage, suspended just slightly off the floor. It was impossible not to notice her.
A mischievous, devilish smile curled her lips.
The Deal Maker
Chapter 4 to come
K