by Zoey Marcel
“God, that's amazing!” he cried out. “It's too much, though.”
Kayla's head lifted, and she got down on the floor of the truck and lapped lazily at his cockhead. His self-control nearly short-circuited when her eyes lifted to his while she lapped the tip. The look was so brazenly sexual he almost yanked her onto his lap and impaled her on his cock.
She smiled like a smug temptress and swallowed down on his stiff dick again, slurping and suckling him all over. Then she did that new, wonderful thing with her mouth again. Her entire mouth seemed to become a vacuum that suctioned him to the roof and held him there, sucking hard. The pressure felt like she was eating his cock, minus the use of teeth.
“Oh no, Kayla, don't! It's too much! Oh yes!” He squirmed and cried out as she worked her magic on his penis.
You know you sound like a hard-up idiot, don't you?
He ignored his brain, shut the damned thing off for a minute, and just felt what his sweet Kayla did to him. She was going to get the best muff-munching of her little life when she was done licking him.
“Oh God! Jesus, Kayla!”
He never talked like that, but sweet hell, no one had ever sucked him like that before. He'd been treated to oral sex, but never like this. Then again, it made sense. Her training had come from a man twice her age. Hugh really was the master apparently. He'd taught his little slave well.
Virgil shoved the other man from his mind to keep from feeling guilty. Hugh never said he couldn't touch her. He just said to watch her for a little while to make sure she was safe. Well, he'd watched the blessed thing for months, which was way longer than Hugh had implied.
No matter, though. Virgil wanted her safe, and right now he figured she'd be safest wrapped around his pounding shaft.
His climax came barreling through him with lightning speed. The powerful way his cum shot through him was mind-boggling. Explosions went off inside his body. His erection contracted spasmodically as he emptied his balls into her perfect mouth.
Kayla pulled off his cock, making him flail on the seat for a second like a fish out of water at the shock of abandonment. She discreetly spat his spunk into a napkin, but he didn't mind.
“Holy hell, woman, you suck cock like a mayfly.”
She shot him a questioning glance and giggled. “What?”
“You know, like you've got hardly any time to live.”
She laughed lightly, and he chuckled, too, enthralled by how beautiful something as simple as laughter looked on her.
“Thanks. I needed that.”
“If you come over here or lie down, I can give you what you really need.”
Consideration hung in the air like a thick blanket of fog. She appeared torn. “That's okay. I just had a shower. I don't really want to get all grimy again.”
He shrugged. “So take another one when we're done.”
She held up a hand when he scooted toward her. Her palm rested against his chest, and she looked as tempted as she did bothered by something. “I really just wanted to make you happy.”
“Well, it certainly did. You're a sweetheart, Kayla.” He brushed a hand over the softness of her cheek and played with a tendril of hair near her temple.
Her gaze hooded for a minute before she met him with affectionate cow eyes. “Thanks. You're the sweetest guy I know.”
He smiled. “Are you sure about the orgasm?”
She paused for a second before nodding. “I'm sure.”
“All right then, but if you change your mind...”
She gave him a feeble half smile. “I'll let you know.” Her face became vulnerable. “There’s something I need to tell you. I don’t know how to say it. Oh, hang on. I’m getting a text.”
She seemed troubled about something, and her face became even more serious when she read her text and then closed her cell phone before he could read it. “Who was it?”
“Wrong number. I forgot what I was going to say. Oh well.” She got out of the truck in a hurry. “I have to go.”
“Kayla.”
The hopeful way she looked at him touched him, but she seemed particularly vulnerable at the moment.
“Gretchen's obviously gone.” The painful words cut him up on the way out of his mouth. “You don't have to keep working for Hammond if you don't want to.”
Kayla glanced down suddenly looking even more defenseless before she became guarded again. “I want to work for him.”
“Why? He seems like a spoiled rich pig.”
She shrugged, averting her eyes. “He's not so bad. Without him I never would have landed that commercial. He has connections and was able to pull a few strings for me.”
“Why'd he do that?”
“Because he's a good boss and he cares about me ... as his assistant. I owe him.”
Virgil studied her carefully, noting her extreme discomfort and refusal to look at him for more than two seconds while she talked about the snobby Hammond. “Have you ever thought about putting the acting thing aside and just—”
“What? And give up like a failure?”
Well, that wasn't the button he meant to push. “No. I just mean pick a different career.”
“You think I can't do it? That I'm too fat and my glasses will keep me from getting a bigger part?”
He let out a long whistle. “No need to fly off the handle, honey. It was just a suggestion. And you're not fat.”
She pointed to her chest innocently to identify the subject of her conversation, but his eyes honed in on the pleasing orbs for a different reason.
Look at her face, stupid, not her breasts. She's upset.
“I may not be thin and I might be too chicken to try contacts, but someday I'm going to be famous and then you'll see. They'll all see.”
He stared at her curiously. “Are you trying to prove something to somebody?”
“He did a really nice thing for me. I owe him a lot.” Her voice cracked like she didn't even believe in what she said.
“Hammond?”
She blinked at him, and in that second her eyes were jaded and lost.
“Yes, Beck.” His name caught in her throat, and she looked down, shuddering when she read another text she got. “I really have to go back now.”
Virgil didn't know what was up, but he didn't like it one bit. “Go home, Kayla.”
She shook her head, looking shaken up. “I want to stay.”
“Why? Gretchen's gone. Hammond's obviously clean. You're free to go.”
“This isn't just about you, okay? My boss knows people. I came out here to be an actress, and so help me God, I'm not quitting until I do just that.”
“At what cost?”
Her eyes lidded, and her face distorted. When she spoke, her timbre conveyed how choked up she was through a thin veil of anger. “I'm not a whore.”
Her reply took him by surprise. “I never said you were. Is this because I didn't stop you from sucking my cock? I offered to pleasure you back, but you turned me down.”
She seemed to be somewhere else at the moment, somewhere dark and unpleasant. “Please don't come around anymore.”
“I don't—”
“Virgil, please. I'll miss you, but it's better this way.”
He stared her down hard until her eyes slid away from his. She was hiding something in those telling eyes. A secret she seemed willing to fight him tooth and nail to keep. “Go home, Kayla. Go back to Kentucky where you belong.”
Her misty eyes became empty, and her broken voice took on a cold, lifeless note. “I can't ever go home. You should, though. You're right. Beck is a dead end as far as your sister goes.”
“Wait. Did you really mean what you said about not wanting to see me again?”
She sniffled, trying to act tough, though he knew she was crying. “Yes.”
“Give me a reason.”
“Because every time I look at you I'm reminded of back home and everything I left back there.” Her voice cracked, and she sobbed. “And it hurts. You make me feel guilty
for being here, even though it's not my fault.”
“What's not your fault?”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “You have to go. Please. I can't see you anymore.”
“Kayla, I know you're hiding something from me. Now why don't you just tell me what it is?”
She made a sad, little squeak. “I need you to leave so I can do what I have to do to get ahead without being reminded of country values.” She put her hand to her face. “Oh God, that’s not me. This really hurts. I’m so sorry.”
Virgil leaned forward on the seat to take her hand, but she flinched, eying him with disgust and genuine fear.
“Don't touch me! I said stop, so stop. I don't owe you anything!” She bawled the words out and took off.
He watched her leave, wondering what the hell was up with her.
Kayla didn't want him around anymore. He'd back off if it was what she really wanted, but he got the nagging feeling it wasn't.
Chapter Four: Breaking Free
This slinky, black sleeveless dress was the epitome of sex. The dark material hugged all of Kayla’s womanly curves, and the black lace extended beyond the soft cups and became sheer around her midsection, though the lower portion wasn't see-through.
The hem fell high on her thighs, exposing her leg tattoos. The black dragon she'd gotten for Master Hugh on her right thigh and the little black bird on her left thigh. That one had been for Keith Langley. He'd always called her little bird because of her gentility and her restlessness to fly away.
The plunging V-neckline of the black dress showcased her generous bust to the hilt. She wore her silver necklace with the small heart charm that had a diamond in the center. She'd rarely worn it since living with Beck Hammond, worried he might figure out that it had been a gift from a past lover.
But today she must. She was busting out of this hellhole, and her greatest possession, the necklace Master Hugh had given her for her birthday one year, must be taken with her.
While she'd once schemed of breaking free of her daddy's control, dressing like a tart and having men drool over her, now she craved the chivalrous way Travis Langley used to treat her, like she was a living, breathing pot of gold. It was time to flee the self-interested perverts and get back to Kentucky where the real men were—the ones who knew how to treat a woman right.
She would spend her last days on earth with her best friends and true loves, but she couldn't ever be with them, not now. Her eyes watered at the cold, bitter truth of reality, but she shoved the crippling sorrow and pain of regret aside. She'd made her bed, and now she must lie in it ... for however long or brief that might be.
She tapped her bare foot against her bodyguard, Slade’s boot. He’d eaten the brownies she’d baked with a sedative in them. He was out cold. Now it was time to run. Kayla hurried up the stairs into Beck's office, looking for that nightmarish tape of her that he'd made. Seeing the correct date on it, she grabbed the video and dashed into Beck's room for her purse.
She glanced up at herself in the mirror. Her long ginger curls fell to her breasts, but they did nothing to conceal the suffocation-inducing depths of her cleavage. Regardless, she probably didn't have time to change.
She stuffed some baby blue pajamas into her purse. Maybe she had to time to grab a few things.
Fear told her otherwise. Best to get the hell out of there and get new stuff later. She slipped on some black strappy high heels and then tiptoed down the stairs.
The butler, Ralph, appeared surprised to see her leaving alone. “Isn't Slade going with you, Miss Sanders?”
“You mean Beck didn't tell you? I'm being put on probation. This bracelet has a tracking device in it, that way I can get out and have a little freedom, but he'll still be able to keep an eye on me.” She tried to feign courage beneath the butler's confused scrutiny. “Slade wanted the day off.”
Ralph eyed her long and hard, acting perplexed and uncertain.
“Call Beck and ask him if you don't believe me. He probably won't be happy that you disturbed him, but if you feel you need to check—”
“No. I believe you. Where will you be going?”
“Just out for some shopping. Beck gave me some money to spend.”
“Let me see your wallet.”
She handed it to him impatiently. “My license isn't in there. He has it.”
Ralph handed the wallet back to her. “In that case, have a good time, miss.”
“Thanks. I will.”
Kayla left quickly, trying to act inconspicuous. She took a bus to the police station, hoping Beck didn't have people watching. She couldn’t believe she’d made it out the door. Her twelve weeks of misery were finally over.
****
Kayla sat nervously at Bruce Callaghan's desk after giving him a quick rundown of her story. He looked vaguely familiar. Where had she seen him before? She even knew his voice from somewhere.
Bruce stroked his chin, seeming bothered about something. “That's quite an allegation, Miss Sanders. Do you have any proof?”
“Yeah, right here.”
His face perked with interest and mild astonishment when she reached into her purse and pulled out a video.
“There were a bunch of others, but he keeps them locked in a vault. I don't know the combination. This was one he made recently.”
“What's on it?”
She squirmed in her seat, withdrawing her focus from him. Humiliation burned in her cheeks. “Proof of what they did to me.”
“They?”
She nodded uncomfortably, wishing she wasn't dressed like a frigging prostitute. Beck Hammond always made her dress that way. “Beck, Slade, and this other guy. I don't know his name. He wore a mask and a uniform.”
Bruce's countenance shadowed with caution. “What kind of uniform?”
“It was too dark to tell. I think it was a cop uniform.”
He sat back in his seat and folded his arms. “I see. I think you'd better give me that tape so I can show it to the higher-ups. They're in a meeting right now, but I'll be sure and give it to them afterward.”
She handed the tape to him, feeling relief wash over her, though her hands shook with adrenaline. “You guys will protect me from them, right?”
He stuffed the tape into a drawer in his desk. “Of course we'll protect you, sweetheart. You just do exactly what we say and no harm will come to you.”
She smiled weakly, feeling unsettled by the familiar words. “Okay.”
“Now you just sit right there while I make a quick phone call. Everything is going to be all right now.” Bruce pulled out his cell phone and walked around the corner.
Kayla racked her brain trying to figure out where she'd seen his face before and why those words sounded so familiar to her. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. A masked stranger had promised her protection once if she obeyed. He was one of Beck’s vile friends.
It was a long shot. She'd only glimpsed the uniformed man's face in the dark when he'd taken off his mask. She'd been blindfolded at that point, but not quite good enough.
She cautiously went around the desk and pulled the video out from his drawer, peeking over her shoulder and stuffed the tape into her purse.
Bruce's hushed voice around the corner was still on the phone. “Two minutes? That's fine. I'll keep her detained until you get here. No, she doesn't have a clue. I've got the tape.”
Kayla choked down her fear. Her eyes bugged out when she recognized the garter in his drawer. The uniformed man had taken it off her before. A cold shudder chilled her as she shoved the garter into her purse and hurried out of there. Her eyes stung with fright, but she forbade the tears to come. She needed to keep her vision and mind clear and focus on not getting caught.
Bruce Callaghan had sat there, pretending not to know her and all the while he had. He'd promised to protect and help her, but instead he alerted her captors that she was on the run. Even the police couldn't help her. She could trust no one.
Everyone walking and driving by looked susp
icious to her, even scampering children. Paid little spies. Some pedestrians sniffed at her scant attire in judgment, but self-righteousness didn't bring her down. She didn't give a damn what they thought.
It was the people who looked upon her in lust that made her leery. Certainly most of them would only ever look and never touch unless given permission. But it was the knowledge that some people would violate another human being if they were guaranteed not to get caught that had her scared stiff.
She knew there were good people who would never defile her even if there was no law to answer to for it. But walking by strangers ogling her body and not knowing ... it was the not knowing that got her. Not knowing whether they were people who sinned in thought alone, but would always be governed by conscience rather than law, or if they were in fact dormant criminals who hadn't been born of the required circumstances that would make them monsters that scared her almost to tears.
Beck Hammond had too many friends in too many places in Beverly Hills. She could talk to cops in another city. Right now she just needed to break away.
Chapter Five: My Old Kentucky Home
Kayla wandered down the road several miles outside of Lexington. She hadn't been home to Kentucky in years. Even after the extensive period of separation, walking alone on the country road with nothing but lush oak trees and miles of rolling green pastures all around her, it was like seeing an old friend again.
The long stretch of greenery was interrupted every now and then by flowering crabapple trees and four-legged brown splashes munching on the verdant grass. It had been a while since she'd ridden a horse. Would it come back to her naturally, or would she be timid if she mounted one of those tall thoroughbreds now?
The sweet smell of blooms floated on the warm, humid breeze mingled with the mild stench of horse manure. When dry, the little horse pies made the perfect accompaniment to the floral fragrances of spring. She wasn't sure why, but the combination had always been one of her favorite smells of the season.
