by Mia Ford
Rick hated my guts and I guess I couldn’t blame him. It was my testimony that helped put his brother, Eddie, away for twenty-five years to life for the murders of Brent and the clerk at the convenience store.
Ronnie also struck a deal with the district attorney and testified against Eddie. Rick was never charged with the murders because Eddie swore his brother had nothing to do with them. Eddie and Ronnie had their own shady dealings with the clerk that Rick knew nothing about. It was all about a truckload of stolen cigarettes and the fact that the clerk had screwed Eddie out of his cut. Brent had just gotten in the way. Wrong place, wrong time.
Eddie and Ronnie were also convicted of the Crown Jewelers robbery. They took a deal that tacked on another twenty-four months to the sentences they received for the murders. Eddie would probably be in prison for the rest of his life. Ronnie might get out in ten years with good behavior.
Rick didn’t fight the robbery charges.
He pleaded guilty and took a plea that sent him away for twenty-four months. I was in the courtroom the day he went away. He refused to even look at me.
With good behavior, he would be released after eighteen months.
The eighteen months runs out tomorrow.
RICK
Eddie once said he could do eighteen months in the pen standing on his head. I wondered if he still felt that way, now that he was doing twenty-five to life. I would have loved to have asked him, but he was upstate at a maximum-security prison and I was three hundred miles away on a minimum-security work farm. He was in a prison and I was on a work farm. He would have loved to have given me shit about that.
I’d spent the last eighteen months working in the kitchen and helping in the fields, keeping my head down and my nose clean. It wasn’t hard to do the time. The place was a resort compared to a real prison. I was probably the only real criminal in a place full of white collar assholes, crooked politicians, and doctors who overprescribed pain meds to their patients for cash under the table.
I had no idea how I’d managed to be sentenced to the work farm until an assistant D.A. told me it was part of a deal Sandy arranged in exchange for testifying against my brother. I was already pissed at her for lying to me, not to mention her little plot to kill me and my crew that came out in court. Knowing that she sold my brother out so I could do a cushy stretch just pissed me off even more.
* * *
“Take it easy, Rick,” the guard at the gate said, slapping me on the back like we were old pals. “Don’t let me see you back in here again.”
I gave him a smile. “Don’t worry. You won’t.”
I tried to be patient as he went inside the guard shack to hit the button that opened the main gate that separated the farm from the free world. The gate rumbled and slid noisily to the right. As soon as there was enough space to step through, I went out the gate and started walking. I didn’t look back.
I was wearing the clothes I had on the day I processed in; a pair of jeans that now hung off my narrow hips rather than hugged them, motorcycle boots, and a black t-shirt. They had given me back my wallet, which was empty except for an expired driver’s license, my watch which had since stopped working, and a cellphone that no longer had service.
I had a hundred and eight dollars in my pocket; money earned from working on the farm for eighteen months. It came out to about six bucks a month. In the old days, I made a thousand times that in a week, but the old days were gone.
There was a bus station three miles from the work farm. I could have called a taxi to pick me up, but I decided to walk. I wanted to stretch my limbs and breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face and the taste of freedom on my lips.
I was told to turn right at the gate and keep walking down the dusty road until I saw the Greyhound sign. I hoped a hundred and eight dollars would get me home. If it wouldn’t, I’d buy a ticket for as close as I could get and hitch the rest of the way.
I didn’t have much left for me there, but I had a little money stashed around and still owned the bar. My plan was to sell everything I owned and get the fuck away once and for all. Find some place nice, get a normal job, meet a nice girl, and settle down.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many other criminals had walked down this same dusty road with the same good intentions in mind.
And how long was it before they went back to their old ways.
* * *
I saw the sun reflect off the shiny grill of the black Cadillac before I realized who was behind the wheel. The car was coming at me at a pretty good clip. I could hear the growl of the engine as the driver downshifted to a stop in the middle of the country road, stopping directly in front of me.
She opened the door and stepped out of the car. It took me a minute to recognize her. Her hair was long and blonde, pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her blue eyes were bright and clear. Her cheeks flushed when she saw me. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And I hated her guts. And I hated myself for wanting her so badly.
She licked her lips and gave me a nervous smile.
“Hi,” she said, propping her arms on top of the open driver’s door. She rested her chin on her arms and stared at me. “Can I give you a ride?”
I thought about ignoring her, just keep on walking, like she wasn’t even there. But as I glared at her, forcing myself to hate her, struggling to resist the urge to take her in my arms, I realized that she wasn’t to blame for any of my troubles.
Her world was just fine until Eddie burned it down.
I couldn’t blame her for wanting him dead, for wanting me dead. I didn’t kill her fiancé, but I knew Eddie was a dangerous man. Maybe if I had tried to control him more, from the time we were kids, her fiancé might still be alive.
I blew out a long breath and gave her a nod.
“Yeah,” I said, “a ride would be great.”
SANDY
We didn’t talk much at first. Rick’s deeply tanned face looked gaunt and tired. I asked how he was and he said okay. He asked how I was and I said better now. He gave me a little smile, then turned to look out the window at the free world passing by. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
I was a little relieved that we weren’t talking. I still didn’t know what to say to him, or if we could put the past behind us and start again. All I knew was that I was willing to try if he was. I’d ask him as soon as he woke up.
In the trunk was his go-bag, with his passport, money, and clothes; just as he’d left it with me.
I’d packed several suitcases of my own. There was no way I could go anywhere with just one bag.
I got on the interstate and headed south toward Baja rather than north to Bakersfield. I would take him back to Bakersfield if that’s where he wanted to go, but I was hoping that he would agree to lie on a nude beach with me for a few weeks so we could sort things out in paradise.
There was nothing left for either of us in Bakersfield.
The only thing I cared about was the man snoring softly in the seat beside me. I prayed that he felt the same.
SANDY
We’d been on the road for two hours when Rick woke up to realize that he had been kidnapped. He was an easy person to kidnap. When I told him we were headed to Cabo San Lucas for a few weeks of lying naked in the sun, he just looked at me and smiled.
“Isn’t Cabo like a thousand miles from where we are?” he asked, glancing at the exit signs for San Diego that we were passing.
“Yes. So? What’s your point?”
“Don’t guess I have one,” he said with shrug. My hand was resting on the gear shift. He covered it with his long fingers and gave it a squeeze. An old familiar tingle worked its way up my arm.
“So, we’re looking at twenty hours or so drive time,” he said, glancing over at me with a goofy look on his weathered face.
“That sounds about right.”
“And it’s getting dark,” he said, glancing out the window.
“Yes, it tends to get dark about this ti
me every day.”
“And I haven’t gotten laid in a very long time.”
I glanced over at him. His old smile had returned. It washed over me like a warm bath. My cheeks flushed. My nipples plumped in my bra. I could feel moisture between my legs.
“I haven’t been laid in a long time either,” I said, turning my hand over so we could lace our fingers together. I glanced at the road ahead. There was a Motel 6 at the next exit.
“Shall I take this exit.”
“Please do,” he said, pulling my hand across to feel the bulge in his jeans. “Quickly.”
* * *
I had no idea what the record was for checking into a motel and stripping off your clothes, but I was sure that Rick and I had broken the old record by several minutes. I quickly checked us in, we hurried to the room without getting our bags and stripped each other naked just inside the door.
My hand immediately went to Rick’s throbbing cock. As my fingers closed around it and started to gently tug, it was as if we were transported back in time, to my apartment, to the first time we’d made love.
Rick dug his fingers into my tits and pushed me into the wall. His mouth was all over me: my lips, my chin, my neck. His fingers squeezed the soft flesh of my tits, making me moan in pain and pleasure. He lowered his mouth to my nipples and teased them with his tongue, taking them between his teeth, suckling them between his lips.
His cock felt wonderful in my hand. I had forgotten how long and thick he was. I stood on my tiptoes and pulled him to me, swirling the head of his cock around my dripping pussy and clit. I started pumping his cock with long strokes from base to head, pushing him against my clit. I came quickly, my hot juices showering him, making him moan.
He grabbed my ass and lifted me up. I draped an arm around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. He used a hand to guide his cock to my pussy, then put his hands on my ass again and impaled me onto him. His cock slid in with such force that the wind was knocked from my lungs.
With my arms around his neck and his hands on my ass and my back against the wall, Rick ramrodded his cock into my pussy, fast, hard, like a man who had not had sex in a very long time. He pressed his forehead to mine and gritted his teeth to hold back the orgasm.
“I want to see your face while I’m fucking you,” he said. He carried me to the bathroom and set me down. He roughly spun me around and dug his fingers into my hips. I pushed my ass toward him and watched his face in the mirror as he slid his cock back inside my pussy. I could feel him all inside me now. Long. Hard. Thick. Wonderful.
“Fuck me hard, baby,” I moaned. “Fuck me hard… stick your big cock inside my sweet pussy…”
He gazed into the mirror and smiled.
Dirty talk was our thing.
“You want my big cock to ram your sweet pussy,” he asked, moving his hips in and out, shoving his cock inside me until the head hit my innermost wall. “God... your pussy is so fucking tight… I’ve missed you… so much…”
“Fuck me hard, Rick…” I braced my arms on the counter and closed my eyes. “I want to feel your monster cock in my throat.”
Rick tightened his grip on my hips and started rocking into me so hard that my tits swayed back and forth, hanging from my chest. I grabbed them and gritted my teeth, rolling my nipples between my fingers.
The fire was igniting deep inside me.
Another orgasm was on its way.
I felt hot all over.
I could smell the tangy scent of my juices washed over him.
I could smell his sweat.
I wanted to lick every drop of it from his body.
“God… I’m cumming…” he moaned, ramming into me, jarring my entire body.
“Yes… baby… cum… with me…” He moaned loudly as his cock filled me with his hot, milky cum and my orgasm sent a shudder through my body.
A moment more, and our bodies went slack.
I opened my eyes to find him smiling back at me.
“Welcome home,” I said with a happy sigh, wiggling my soaked pussy against him. “Don’t you ever leave me again.”
EPILOG: SANDY
Cabo San Lucas was the most beautiful place on Earth.
Well, the most beautiful place that I’d ever been to.
And having Rick by my side again just made it feel that much more like Heaven on Earth.
We had rented a small bungalow on the beach and spent our days sunning and swimming, and our nights dancing and drinking and making love, or as Rick called it: drinkin’ and fuckin’.
Sigh. Such manners on this one.
We talked about other places we’d like to go; Europe maybe, or Australia. But every day as the sun set over the Pacific Ocean just a few feet from where we sat with our toes in the sand, we knew that it didn’t matter where we were, so long as we were together.
I thought about Brent often and how his death had brought me to this point in my life.
If I could have gone back in time and prevented him from going into that store; if I could have saved him from Eddie; I would have done so without hesitation.
But I couldn’t turn back time.
And I couldn’t bring him back.
All I could do was keep his memory alive in my heart and try to be the person he expected me to be; a person who deserved his love, and deserved the life it had given me.
THE END
There are more bonus stories ahead…..just look what you want to read next via the Table of Contents (TOC)
Mia’s Hot Seller - Fair Play (Complete Story)
BLURB
Sean Donovan runs like the wind and parties like a hurricane. How do I get a hot stud like him to notice a simple girl like me? Easy, by pretending to be the kind of girl I know he can’t resist...
Kate Asher: Don’t tell me to play fair. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to get an interview with hard-partying football star Sean Donovan, even if it means dressing up like a hooker and playing bump-and-grind with him on the dancefloor.
Sean Donovan: On the field, I play fair, but in life, it’s anybody’s game. The second I saw her red hair and red lips I knew that I’d be making a forward pass. And when she flashed that cleavage, whew man, it was game over!
She wants to get inside my head and I want to get inside her pants. I think it’s time we talk about a trade…
Kate Asher
“Forget it, Kate, he’ll never talk to you,” Walter said, shaking his bald head slowly and making the squinty face that reminded me of that old cartoon character, Mr. Magoo.
I was doing my best to keep the whine out of my voice. Walter hated whiny women. I said, “But I don’t understand why I couldn’t at least try to contact Sean Donovan and—“
He gave me a dismissive wave, like he was shooing away a bad smell. Walter was in his late fifties and had drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney for decades. His voice was gruff and irritating, especially when he was dealing with what he considered to be overeager young journalists who were pitching him silly story ideas.
He said, “It would be a total waste of time and resources, so just forget it. Sean Donovan is still pissed at us for posting that video of him having a three-way with those two groupies in Chicago. Our people can’t even get past the guards at Kings Stadium anymore. We have to cover their home games by watching them on TV or listening to them on the radio.”
I blew out a long breath and bit my lip. Arguing with Walter Thompson was like having a battle of wits with a brick wall. No matter how sound your argument, there was no way to convince him that your idea had merit once he decided that it did not. And Walter rarely gave merit to any idea I came up with.
I was a girl.
A chick.
A broad.
Hired to keep the EEOC off his back.
I should have been off writing for Glamour or Modern Bride. Professional sports reporting was no place for girl, at least in Walter’s mind. He’d never say it out loud, of course, because it would get his ass sued of
f. But I had worked for Walter since getting out of journalism school two years ago. I knew exactly how he felt about women journalists in sports, even good ones like me.
Walter was my editor at Sports Insider Online. He was the guy who assigned stories to writers and decided what went in the magazine, what went online, and what went in the trash.
Walter was an old-school sports guy, always reminiscing about the “good old days” and how things used to be, i.e. when all sports reporters were male. Walter was also a sexist pig who thought that “little girls” like me should be on the sidelines in slutty cheerleader outfits rather than on the field covering the game with the boys.
I sat in the chair across the desk from him and silently fumed for a minute. I’m not sure what I expected when I came in to pitch Walter the idea of me doing an exposé on Sean Donovan, the New York Kings star running back.
Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything left to expose at this point. Sean Donovan had more dirt floating around the internet than Charlie Sheen, yet the good old boy sports reporters and TV analysts painted him to be a god.
The fans loved him, and who could blame them?
He averaged two touchdowns per game. And in football, that was all anyone cared about. As long as he wasn’t abusing women or kicking puppies, his off-the-field antics were more or less ignored.
Just boys being boys.
Blowing off a little steam.
It helped that he looked like the proverbial All American Hero.
Sean Donovan was six-three, packed with muscles, and could run the 40-yard dash in 4.5 seconds. He had caught more touchdown passes than any other Kings receiver in the past five years and was considered a shoe-in for this year’s Pro Bowl.
Why should anyone care about the testosterone-driven fights with other players on the field, or the drunken bar brawls with fans of other teams? Or the numerous sex videos floating around the internet? Jesus, this guy’s junk was on display more than Michelangelo’s statue of David. And Donovan’s junk was much bigger, if you know what I mean. I’d seen all the videos… for research purposes, of course.
