by Naomi West
He slid his fingers inside me as his big hand palmed my breast. “Like that, Micah?”
“God, yes,” I nearly screamed as he found my g-spot and rubbed across it. My back arched almost violently as I cried out my first orgasm.
“Ready for my cock?”
“I can't wait,” I groaned between gasps, my body riding his hand as he fingered me from behind. I licked my dry lips, desperate to have him in me. “Please, just give it to me, Ford”
Ford took his hands from my sex and pulled his cock from his pants. I felt his hot flesh press against me, pushing between my legs, spreading my lips with his giant head.
He was huge! Not the biggest in the world, I was sure, but bigger than any I'd ever had. “Ford,” I panted in concern, “I don't think I can take all that.”
“Sure, you can,” he growled, grabbing my hair tight from behind and wrenching my head back with one hand as he gripped my hip tight with the other. “Just ease yourself back, nice and slow.”
My head thrown back, I nodded quickly and began to slide myself onto him, a low, guttural moan escaping my throat as he began to fill me. “Ford,” I panted out. “God, this is amazing.”
He groaned as I slid down his shaft all the way. “See?” he asked. “Told you I believed in you, Micah.” Then he began to move his hips, fucking me with his huge cock.
My body trembled around his length, shaking as I cried out on the side of the road. Immediately, my body was overcome with another orgasm, a body-shaking one that sent off lights behind my eyes that were so bright, I was worried a car had pulled over to see if we needed help. I screamed as I came on him, my voice echoing out over the badlands around us.
“That's it, babe,” he grunted through clenched teeth as he started to really piston in and out of me, our bodies wonderfully slapping together. “Take it all.”
I panted and cried out as another orgasm shook me. He slapped my ass again, harder than before, and I just pushed back into him faster. “Fuck me, Ford. Make me yours. Give it to me!”
He pulled my hair tighter, his fingers digging deeper into my hips.
I screamed louder, my voice a keening wail as I slumped forward onto the trunk, my whole body undulating, writhing, as I continued to rise and fall through my orgasm. Still, though, I did as I was told and kept my hands in place.
“Fuck,” he panted, his hips speeding up, his heavy balls slapping against my ass and the top of my thighs.
I knew he was close from the way he'd sped up. “Inside of me,” I panted. “Please, Ford. I want to feel you cum in of me.”
“If you insist,” he groaned, his pelvis slamming into my ass, then staying there as he cried out in exultation, his manhood exploding inside me, filling me to the brim. I could feel his rod pulsing like a piece of liquid heat, every ridge, every vein as he continued to stroke in and out of me. After what seemed like eons, he finally began to go soft, and he pulled his length from me and released my hair.
Gasping, I eased myself up from the trunk and turned myself around, my knees wobbling. I fell forward into his arms, gasping as he held me upright. “That was amazing,” I breathed.
He kissed me again, his tongue probing my mouth like before. “Yeah,” he said. “That was.”
I purred like a fat, happy cat in his strong arms as I returned his kiss with equal vigor.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked after our kiss broke apart. “To stand, I mean? I still need to check on the engine.”
I nodded sheepishly and he left me to go up front as I leaned back against the old Pontiac, my body shivering again in vividly remembered pleasure. Never had a man made me feel this way. So sated, yet so hungry for more. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of his jacket, trying to warm up as I settled my butt down on the bumper. Inside the right pocket, my fingers rubbed across something velvety.
Curious, I pulled the object out to look at it. A small, black ring box. Furtively, I glanced back over my shoulder to see if Ford was coming back.
“Micah?” he called. “Just gotta put the coolant in. Shouldn't be much than a minute.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, flipping the box open. A diamond ring with a solitaire setting. The rock must have been at least two carats, and it seemed to glimmer in just the starlight. “Wow,” I said under my breath as the thoughts began to race through my head.
First of all, whose was it? Clearly, it was Ford's, or at least that was it looked like. It was in the pocket of his coat, after all. But who was it meant for? Certainly not him.
Which meant it was probably for some woman. A sweetheart of his, maybe? I frowned, shaking my head. What a low life, if that was true. Fucking some random woman on the side of the road while his girlfriend was at home worrying about him.
A ring like that would be worth a pretty penny, I knew. It might be the added little jump I needed in my bank account, so to speak, to get me out of Daddy's house and back on the road to LA. I took the ring out of the box and held it in front of me.
In fact, I tried to convince myself, by taking the ring I was doing Ford and his girlfriend a favor. Clearly, he didn't want to be with her if he was fucking me. And she sure as hell wouldn't want to be with him if she found out he'd fucked me. So, if I took the ring from Ford, I'd be preventing them both from making a huge mistake.
I was actually helping him by taking it!
It's amazing what rationalizations the brain can make on such short notice, especially when it comes to trying to achieve your dreams.
“Car's ready,” Ford bellowed from the front. “Let's get you back.”
I palmed the ring, quietly eased the box shut, then stuffed the case back in the coat pocket. When I got back in the car, I'd put it in my clutch, and he wouldn't realize it was missing till I was out of Daddy's clutches and well on my way to Los Angeles.
“Coming,” I called, smiling to myself as I went around to the passenger side and climbed back in.
Next stop? The Mansion. After that? Los Angeles. Where I belonged.
Chapter Four
Ford
Goddamn I'd needed that. I hadn't had a good lay in a while, and Micah was better than any I could remember. The way she ground against me, panting, begging for more. I was getting excited all over again just thinking about it.
I dropped her off on a back road near some kind of estate, then turned around and headed back to the roadhouse. Maybe, if I got back there soon enough, I could catch Samuels and Gomez and get back some of my bankroll. That was, of course, if they still had a spot open at the table.
Look, I knew they hadn't cheated me. It had just been shitty luck. But I was looking at a deadline here with my loan shark, who just happened to be my boss. When my house burned down, he lent me some cash to get by. He didn't mention, though, that he was charging me his normal rates.
Now I was stuck doing the real shit jobs for him. Last week it had been wrecking some little old lady's yard shop. The week before, beating some college punk kid's ass and breaking a few fingers. I could handle the old work, because I was generally going after some real sleazeballs.
This kind of work, though? I was the fucking sleazeball, and I knew it.
I pulled the old Pontiac into the packed dirt square that counted as a parking lot for the beer joint and headed inside.
“Back for more?” Samuels asked with a grin growing on his lips, splitting it like a wounded gash. In front of him were his chips, what used to be my chips, but there were considerably less than I remembered. They'd probably been drinking all night and starting to spend on the women who'd finally begun to show up.
I took a seat and threw down what little money I had, grumbling as I looked at the reduced pot. “I'm in for what I got.”
Gomez leaned forward, peering at the money. “Barely enough there to keep you going through just a couple hands, the way you've been playing.”
“Just fucking deal, all right? Quit giving me grief.”
I played carefully over the next couple hours, slowly buildi
ng my bankroll back up. I ended up driving them out of the game. Only problem was, I was still about five hundred short.
“Sorry we couldn't keep it all around for you,” Samuels replied with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair, balancing on just the two legs. “Guess you're lucky you didn't spend it all on that whore you ran outta here with.”
I'd been scraping my winnings together and cashing them out, but I stopped at Samuels' words. I stared daggers at him from across the table. I could feel my blood boiling already, canceling out any sense of victory I'd had at getting back at least a portion of my bankroll. “What the fuck you say?”
“That girl that was in here,” he said, pausing to take another sip of beer as I stuffed my winnings in my pockets. “The one you gave a ride to. She's a fucking whore for Daddy Williams.”
I didn't even bother to respond. Not with words, at least. I slammed the table forward, its legs scraping across the sawdust covered hardwood as I slammed it into Samuels.
“What the fuck?” he yelled as he toppled over backwards, his beer going flying, his hands flailing in the air. He hit the ground with a loud crash, and I was up and around the table before any of the other players, or his buddies, could respond.
He scrambled up from the ground and tried to get to his feet.
I kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him back to the ground. “Stay the fuck down, Samuels!”
A hand grabbed my shoulder and went to spin me back around, but I fixed that interruption with my fist. I knocked Alex Gomez flat on his ass in one swing, his eyes rolling back in his head as he went out with a light. I huffed and puffed, then spun back around and knocked Samuels back to the ground.
I was on him in a flash, my fists flying as I pummeled him into a bloody pulp, cutting my knuckles open on his teeth. He tried to fend me off, but I just batted his hands away like he was a child, and kept whaling on him.
I got in at least a half-dozen solid punches, practically turning his face into ground meat, before the rest of the guys got me off him. Two men grabbed my arms and kept them pinned back while the others began to soften me up in the ribs and stomach. One swung for my head, but I ducked forward so he caught my forehead with his knuckles, instead of my nose. I heard a satisfying crunch, and he screamed in agony, pulling his hand back.
The pain didn't affect me. Not really. I'd had worse. Besides, these guys hit like pansies. I managed to wrench my arms free of their grasp, and got to one of the chairs at the poker table.
Chairs, decent, sturdy ones, at least, don't break like they do in the movies. It's more like people that do the breaking. I slammed it down on the nearest guy, one of Gomez's buddies, and he crumpled to the ground, then I spun and knocked two more off balance.
They started to come back at me, this time more focused and harder to fight off. I backed up, the chair in front of me like I was a lion tamer.
“Don't let him get away!” one of them shouted.
“The fuck I care?” shouted another one in reply. “You wanna get hit with a fucking chair? Be my fucking guest!”
When I backed up to the door, I threw the chair away and ran, jumping back into my Pontiac. I started up the car as a couple of the guys ran out after me into the parking lot, and I took off, the car swerving as the tires lost traction in the dirt.
“Fuck you, Ford!” one of the men yelled as he jumped out of the way.
I didn't bother yelling back, or even honking my horn. I just took off into the night, laughing. I had some of my money back, and I'd taught those bastards a lesson they wouldn't soon forget. And the only price I’d had to pay was a dozen bruises.
Chapter Five
Micah
“So, you ain't brought back a damn thing, huh?” Daddy asked. His voice had gone from just being angry to being disappointed, and I could practically see the hamster running on the wheel inside his head as he tried to concoct a punishment of some sort for me.
I shook my head, my eyes focused on the ground.
We were standing in the middle of my room together. My wardrobe was open, my little flat screen TV still running my DVD of Lost in Translation. When Daddy had burst into my room, I'd jumped up and forgotten to pause it.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you,” he shouted, suddenly angry.
I looked up at him, frightened he might hit me, or worse.
I'd managed to sneak back in after Ford dropped me off, but one of the other girls must have seen me coming in and wanted to earn brownie points with Daddy. He'd come up about an hour or so after I'd returned. Now, I was cursing that girl. And myself, for not going about this better.
He kept my eyes for a long minute, then nodded. “All right, fine,” he said. “Guess I can't expect a pretty little thing like you to get all dirty down at the roadhouse. But, tell you what, we got a little soiree about to begin up front, and I think you'd make a perfect addition to it. Mr. Paul, he loves him a pretty little redhead every now and again, and I'd say you fit that bill. Wouldn't you?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line and looked down again.
“Now, come on, Micah, sweetie pie. You'd be perfect for this little gig, and you'd be the prime attraction. You know what that means, don't you?”
I knew exactly what it meant. Money. But, also, being an out-and-out prostitute. I just couldn't, not with the career wanted. Being an escort was skating the line as it was. But, a whore? I shook my head, frowning.
“It means money,” Daddy said, his voice taking on a cajoling tone. “Sweet, easy money. Almost as easy as what you do, just with less talking. A little more riding, if you take my meaning. And more, much more, than what you've been making.”
Looking up, I opened my mouth to respond, but closed it tight. If I gave him a response, I realized, he'd think I was somewhat interested. Which, try as I might to ignore the prospects of easy cash, I just couldn't.
“Ten thousand dollars, little Micah,” he offered. “Ten grand, sweet and easy peasy, all cash and breezy. And that'd be your cut for the night.”
My mind screamed at me to take the money. With that kind of cash, I could even find Ford and return the ring to him. I could be out of this hellhole in no time flat, headed straight for LA and my future career.
But then I thought of Kessa, the closest thing I had to a friend in this whole crazy place. Daddy's favorite, but she never let that go to her head. Blonde, beautiful, positive all the time. The sweetest thing ever. Only problem was, she'd taken the money. She'd slipped down that hole and never came back.
“Come on,” Daddy said, taking a step towards me, his big belly preceding him. “Do it for Daddy. Make me proud.”
I sighed heavily. “Daddy, I just can't. It's just not me.”
His face went from affable to angry in a split second, his features twisting into a mockery of themselves. “Fine,” he spat. “You go to your room, then, till I figure out what we'll do about you for not bringing home your two hundred.”
“I have the two hundred,” I said as he turned away. “I can pay—”
“How'd you get it, huh?” he shouted, cutting me off as he whirled around.
I flinched and cowered back from him. “I made it working here.”
“But not the way I said you needed to,” he roared. “That's the goddamn point, Micah!”
“Sorry,” I said.
“No,” he said, his eyes sweeping around the room, taking in my clothes, my bed. “But you will be. You stay here.”
He turned back around and left the room, slamming the door behind him when he left. I heard a key inserted into the lock and heard the tumblers click as it turned and the bolt slid into place.
I exhaled a breath I didn't realized I'd been holding, feeling like the air was just evacuating from my body all at once. On the TV screen, Bill Murray was on the street, whispering in Scarlet Johansson's ear, something so quiet the audience couldn't hear.
I walked over to the door and tried twisting the knob, but it didn't work. Panic welled up inside me. I was trapp
ed here! Dang it, if I'd known this was how everything was going to work out, I would have gotten a job as a waitress or something!
My mind chastised me. But what did you think was going to happen, Micah? You knew the money was too good, especially for what you were doing. No such thing as a free lunch, and credit always costs. You gotta pay the piper at some point.
Well, crap. I went back over to my bed and sat down, my vision beginning to blur as my eyes welled up with tears. I collapsed back onto the covers, my arms straight out to either side of me.
As I lay there, my thoughts drifted back to Ford. The way he'd held me, the way his gruff commands in my ear had turned me to Jell-O as he moved behind me. I'd never willingly given my control over like that, never been used so well and fully. If he was here, he'd take care of Daddy Williams. I just knew it. Then, I'd be free.
