Relinquish

by M. N. Forgy

  I arch my body, loll my head back, and push Smith’s head into the crook of my neck. He takes to me quickly with kisses along my skin, the fire of want surfacing between my thighs slowly. My skin burns with the admiration Smith’s hands have for my body.

  A growl escapes his throat as he pulls back eagerly, tearing his suit jacket off. I fist him by his white dress shirt and throw him on the bed roughly, just as excited. He lands with a bounce, a smirk across his face.

  “Fuck yes,” he breathes heavily, unbuttoning his pants. My blood rushes through my veins so fast I go deaf; the only thing I can hear is my rampant heartbeat. I straddle his legs, pressing my knees on each side of his hips as my dress crawls up my thighs, revealing I’m not wearing any panties.

  I push on his chest, laying him down on his back fully before I unzip his pants and shove my hand down his boxers, pulling his dick free. It’s not as thick as Landon’s, and it’s not as long, either. I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to shake anything Landon from my mind.

  “Anytime you get turned on, any partner you have sex with in the future…you’ll always think of me.”

  Landon’s voice haunts me, causing me to grit my teeth and close my eyes.

  Stop thinking of Landon.

  He’s not the man I thought he was. He wasn’t a savior. He used me, taught me that every man is the same. Chasen, Landon, this guy Smith. All for sex. Well, it’s my time to use them back. In doing so, I’m going to ride Smith’s cock so hard Landon is a tumbleweed in my mind’s eye. I’m determined to get Landon out my mind and forget him.

  “This what you want, sexy?” I open my eyes and stare at him seductively, my voice heavy with lust.

  “Yes, fuck yes,” he grits, sitting up on his elbows.

  I pump Smith’s cock, getting him ready, and his mouth falls open with pleasure. The power I have over this man is a poison to my soul. I have the control. I am what they want. I hold the power between my legs.

  “You like that?” I tease, looking at his state of bliss. He doesn’t answer, just nods.

  “After a long day at work, you need attention,” I coo. My heart palpates with how quickly I’m taking to the role of a prostitute. Maybe this is what I was born to do. Seduce men, be worshipped by the opposite sex. Romance and love at first sight isn’t real. It’s not practical and it’s not what pays the bills. Bills. Shit, this guy hasn’t paid yet.

  “Yes, I do,” he mumbles, thrusting his hips up.

  “So, before I go further, you know the price?” I stop touching his hard length, waiting for him to pay. The last thing I need is for this guy not to pay and I get on Mick’s bad side.

  “Yes. Yeah, I do,” he answers frantically. He pushes his hips upward, lifting us, and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Taking out four hundred dollars, he throws it on the mattress beside us.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t tease me,” he whispers, his eyes begging me to continue. I smile sweetly and lean over him, grabbing a condom from the wicker basket that sits on the nightstand. I bite my lip, tear the package with my fingers and pull the condom out. I look at Smith’s dick, then back at the condom. I’m not one hundred percent how one works.

  “Let me,” Smith breathes heavily, his voice muffled with raw hunger. He takes the rubber from my hands and sheaths his cock with it. “Fuck me, Fancy,” he demands, slapping my ass.

  I take a big breath. Here it goes, no turning back. I lift up on my knees and hover my heat right over his cock. I plant my hands on his chest and lower myself slowly onto him. My heart drums against my chest violently as I fully take him inside of me. I still; it stings from only having sex once before.

  “Holy fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, thrusting his hips up. I try not to wince and attempt a small smile. I push myself up and down, looking for that ecstasy I found with Landon. When he claimed my body, that fullness he brought filled my insecurities, my emptiness. That sensation of being alone and abandoned vanished with nothing except falling into pleasure. I growl, frustrated that I’m still thinking of Landon, and thrust harder on Smith, literally trying to fuck Landon out of my mind.

  “Yes. Yes,” Smith huffs, grabbing onto my hips. I close my eyes, focusing on my own selfish need to come.

  “You’re so good at this,” I pant. No, he’s not. He’s not even close.

  “So big!” I holler. He’s small in comparison to what I’ve seen.

  Just when I think I feel a hint of warmth spread through my limbs, the start of something pleasurable, a whimper escapes my lips. I fist his shirt hard and pump myself up and down quicker, chasing that feeling of satisfaction, but Smith stiffens beneath me. He grunts and trembles as he comes. Already? His legs kick beneath me, and a squealing noise leaves his gaping mouth as he finishes. I pull myself off him and roll over, collecting the money while blowing out a breath of frustration. I mask my irritation and turn toward him.

  “Thanks, Smith.” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “We should do it again sometime,” I suggest sweetly, pulling my dress down. But on the inside, I feel anything but sweet. I feel anger and resentment.

  “Yeah,” he pants violently.

  He stands and peels the condom off his length, tossing it in the waste basket.

  “See you around, Fancy,” he says, shoving himself back into his pants.

  I fall on the bed, my head pounding with what I just did. Adrenaline flees my system, leaving realization in its wake. I fucked a man for four hundred dollars. My eyes sting with the welling of tears at the thought. I liked it, though. The way his hands explored my body, the way he looked at me. Trying to fuck Landon’s voice out of my head wasn’t so bad, either. In fact, I found some sanctuary in it. It wasn’t until I was so disappointedly let down from not reaching my own release that my conscience reminded me that I just knowingly stamped myself as a whore. I shake my head and wipe at a tear escaping the corner of my eye.

  “Get a fucking grip,” I chastise myself, heading to the bathroom to clean up. Going back into the main room, I don’t hear the music playing on the TV. I frown in confusion.

  “You’re a natural,” Mick announces, sitting on the bed, his legs crossed as he puffs on a cigar. His white suit sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the crappy motel room.

  “Excuse me?” I ask.

  He points to the smoke alarm above the bed and grins.

  “This room is on video. I send girls I’m not sure can deliver in here in the beginning, see how they handle their first fuck.”

  “You videotaped me?!” I shriek, my hands ball into fists with anger. I just went from prostitute to porn star in the matter of minutes. My legs shake with rage, and shame bubbles in my chest.

  “I didn’t record anything, baby, so calm down. I just watched. I needed to know if you had what it takes, and I must say, you surprised me very much.” He laughs, expelling cigar smoke into the room.

  Having his approval, I relax my stressed stance for some reason and cross my arms. The delight of such praise from Mick is a high I didn’t expect.

  “So, can I join Jayden then?” I question, and shrug my shoulders.

  “No, you cannot join, not just yet. But you can take the rest of the night off, and from now on, you’ll be in room 3.” He stands, his index finger and thumb cradling the dark cigar.

  “And you better start calling Jayden by her street name.” He puffs out a bunch of smoke.

  I roll my eyes and huff at my slip-up.

  “Does your apartment have air, Fancy?” He raises a brow, waiting for my response.

  I narrow my eyes. “No.”

  “It will now.” He cups my cheek and looks into my eyes with admiration.

  “I can tell you had it rough, girl, but this is your family now. This is your home.”

  I blink rapidly at the care he displays. I’m not sure what to make of it. This stranger, this man I know nothing about, has more care for my wellbeing than people I’ve known for years. There’s something unsettling about that.

  “Mick has y
ou now, baby girl.” He places his cigar between his teeth and pats my cheek. “I’ll get the address to your place from Rarity.” He turns to leave, smoke following him. “Go home and clean up. You did good tonight.”

  After Mick leaves, the smell of cigar prominent in the room, I expel the breath I was holding when he touched me. I can’t help the satisfaction forming in my chest from pleasing him, shocking him. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything right in my life. I shake my head, confused why I care so much.

  ELEVEN

  LANDON

  “Where’s Claudia?” I question my brother Roman as I look over the charts of the girls’ earnings. Claudia hasn’t had any clients for days now. It’s unacceptable.

  “I told you, she went missing a few days ago, bro. None of the girls can reach her,” he explains, sprawling out along the wing-backed chair in front of my desk, a tumbler of scotch in hand. His dark hair is messy and uncombed, his gray shirt wrinkled and untucked from his jeans. Roman never was one to be organized, and it hasn’t changed with getting older, either. Being the youngest, he gets away with it. But even at the age of twenty-five, I still have our father breathing over my shoulder at my every move.

  “So, we know nothing. One of our girls up and disappears and nobody knows anything?” I scorn, tugging on my blue tie in frustration. Turning this place around is becoming a hopeless battle.

  “I didn’t say that,” Roman remarks, tilting his head to the side arrogantly.

  “Would you tell me what’s going on already?” I roar.

  “Veronica said she thought she saw her down by that shitty little café you hang out at from time to time. So, I’m guessing if she was around that side of town, she probably went to Mick.”

  Veronica is our step-sister, a bitchy twenty-year-old. I can’t stand her. She’d do anything to have a position at this estate. It’s pathetic most of the time.

  “DAMN IT!” I slam my fist on the desk. Mick has been taking our girls from under our nose for over a decade now. He’s not the only sleazy pimp who targets our girls. Since I’ve been appointed head of the estate, I’ve done what I can to stop it, but it’s not enough apparently. I need to make a bold statement, something to show the wannabe pimps and our girls that things are changing.

  “Someone’s slacking,” Roman sneers, making me grit my teeth. I know this game better than most. Read the girl, find her weakness and use it against her. You have to make her feel like she can’t live without you. I can reach all aspects of a damaged woman — greedy women wanting money, girls hiding out from authorities, or the ones who need the comfort from another. There’s no woman whose emotions I can’t play against her. But I can’t reach Claudia because she has a drug addiction, and that’s not something I tolerate here at the Blackwell Estate. My father may have let it slide when he was in power, but I won’t have it. A woman with an addiction is dangerous and weak.

  “Or has that girl you met at the café tainted your pimp hand?” Roman laughs. I glare at him from under my lashes, annoyed with his flippant tone.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve clearly had too much to drink,” I sneer, my jaw clenched.

  “Right.” Roman chuckles.

  “Father had me followed,” I state rather than question. I rest my elbows on my desk and steeple my hands in irritation. It’s just like my father to have me followed. He can’t seem to keep his nose in his own affairs.

  “What did you expect? You were gone every day for hours. Of course he had one of our men figure out where you were going, only to find you at that café. Learning you took a girl to a hotel room was just a bonus,” Roman chuckles. I narrow my eyes at him, warning him he’s about to step over the line.

  He takes a sip of his scotch, his brows furrowed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that woman has gotten under your skin, and now you’re screwing up.” He ticks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head. I curl my lip. Charlie was different, I give her that. But saying she has me off my game is a laughable concept.

  “That girl is not a problem, I assure you,” I convince Roman, sitting back in my chair.

  CHARLIE

  Black wings flap violently in the night’s sky. Glancing up, the moon casts a glow upon the wings as they weave back and forth. Crying. I hear disgruntled cries from what sounds like a little kid. I try to move toward the sound, but I’m cemented in place. I look down at my feet, finding them buried in muck. I shift and shove at them to move, but they won’t budge. I look up, noticing the wings have moved closer. They’re flapping faster, like they’re angry. The cries are getting louder and more frantic, and yet I still can’t fucking move. The wings suddenly wrap around me and squeeze me so tight I’m nearly suffocating. I try to scream for help, but nothing comes out. No sound, not even a whisper. The black, ominous feathers start to crush me, breaking my bones like toothpicks. My skin begins to turn black, blending with the wings as one.

  “Charlie, you awake?”

  I jump from my nightmare, my body covered in sweat. “I am now,” I mumble into my pillow, my heart pounding against my chest. I peel an eye open and find it’s still dark outside before closing my eye again.

  “How did your first night go?” Jayden whispers. I think of Smith and the pleased face of Mick.

  “It was okay,” I groan, flipping over on the bed.

  “Mick said he was getting us air conditioning because of how well you delivered,” she continues, her tone soft.

  “Mmm,” I mumble.

  “I didn’t do as well as he hoped, so he put me in the motel tomorrow,” Jayden whispers. I pull my head up from my pillow, my vision blurry from sleep.

  “Seriously?” That can’t be. Jayden has had way more experience than me. Well, at least I thought she did.

  “After Margo gave me the low-down on how to spot cops, I went to work. I worked two cars, both with some fine-ass men from the college. But then there was a car that pulled up to our corner that had two men with evil looks on their faces. Their lips were curled with a sense of anger, and their teeth were stained yellow. I could smell their body odor just from standing on the outside of the car. So, I refused service. I stepped back and said ‘no thanks’. Margo snatched me by the arm and was pissed. She waltzed me back to Mick and told him I wasn’t what she thought.”

  “Shit, Jayden, I’m sorry,” I whisper. “We should be able to say who we work and who we don’t. That’s bullshit,” I state, my voice heavy with sleep. “Besides, I think Margo is just pissed that Mick liked us so much. Maybe he isn’t usually so taken with girls. Maybe he’s really an asshole or something,” I suggest, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll prove them wrong tomorrow,” Jayden sniffles, turning over on her bed. I arch an eyebrow, shocked. Mick has found her weakness and is playing it against her. Jayden is a very confident girl; she can have any guy she wants, and she’ll make Mick a bunch of money. I know that, and I’m sure Mick knows it. That’s why he’s doing this to her. He’s working her mind. He’s smarter than I thought.

  “Don’t believe his shit, Jayden. You’re falling right into his trap of psycho bullshit. You have to stay strong, don’t show him your insecurities,” I inform, my tone coming off stern and direct.

  I see her head bob up and down in the dark, nodding in agreement.

  “Okay. You’re right. I just—”

  “I understand. He snakes his way in, finds what you need. He did it to me with complimenting me. We can’t fall for it. At least you’ll be close to me, being back at the motel,” I grumble, closing my eyes.

  ***

  I stack the condoms one by one while I wait for my next trick. Jayden’s so hell-bent on proving Mick she’s worthy today, she even did some yoga stretches before we left. I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t warn her about the camera in room 2, so I told her. She kissed me for telling her. I should’ve been surprised that she wasn’t upset about being watched while having sex, but Jayden is a free spirit a
nd wasn’t alarmed at all.

  A small knock sounds at the door, making me hurry and throw my stack of condoms in the bowl.

  A man with long blond hair and dark scruff on his cheeks walks in, wearing a distressed black shirt and ripped jeans with dirty work boots. His skin is a golden tan, and his large hands have white paint on them. No, it looks too abrasive for paint — concrete, maybe? I bet he’s a construction worker. He’s sexy as hell.

  “Hey, I’m Tim,” he introduces, his tone deep and rough. He runs his hand through his hair and smirks. My mouth parts as his voice climbs up my legs like an aphrodisiac, my body heating instantly from just the look of him.

  “Fancy,” I greet, standing on purple heels.

  “Goddamn, you’re sexy. Where has Mick been hiding you?” He shakes his head, swiping his thumb across his chin. He’s a regular of Mick’s, I see.

  “You’re pretty sexy yourself,” I purr, sliding my hand down his sweaty shirt. He’s rugged and rough around the edges, but he pulls it off.

  He fists my dress roughly. The strength in his hold should scare me, but it has me swooning instead. My body ignites with the alpha pouring from him. He releases me and grabs me by the ass with his large, callused hands. I feel so small against him, and my sex instantly wets. He’s like a caveman, from the vulgar grabbing of my body, to his muscled frame, and the grunts that escape his mouth.

  “What can I do for you, Tim?” I groan, rocking myself against his belt.

  “Fuck. I want to bend you over and fuck you,” he growls deeply. My body races with the craving to tease him, to have that control he so desperately wants.

  “Four- four hundred,” I stammer, so aroused I can’t think clearly.

  He drops me, causing me to stumble on my heels, and pulls out four hundred dollars in fifties, tossing them onto the bed. I lean over, grab a condom, and hand it to him. He lifts his chin with arrogance as he undoes his belt and jeans, shoving them down to his boots. I drop my gaze from his fierce blue eyes down to his cock, finding it to be a decent size. Bigger than Smith’s, that’s for sure.