by Nicole Fox
“Guess you're right,” he admitted with a groan, his hips moving faster into me, his lips assaulting mine again.
His tongue was hot and wet, as forceful as his cock and hands. I groaned out again, my body exploding from the pleasure he was pounding into it. I spasmed against him, arched my back as I felt him release my hands.
He lifted his body from mine and pulled his cock from inside me, leaving my body suddenly empty and wanting. He reached down and flipped me over onto my stomach and dragged me onto my hands and knees. Before I could properly react, his cock was back inside me, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave purple and black bruises in my flesh, his pelvis slamming into my firm ass, bounding my swaying tits with each powerful thrust.
I screamed in pleasure, dropping to my elbows as the bed shook, slamming the headboard against the wall. I came again as his balls slapped into my clit, my face burying itself in the rumpled covers. I yelled out as my orgasm, shouting it into the sheets as I pushed my ass back, fucking him as much as he fucked me.
Handsome kept going, using my body, but giving it more pleasure than I'd ever experienced. Years with other men hadn't prepared me for anything like this, anything like the sensory overload of this thug fucking me. Again I came, my body going into overdrive and collapsing entirely. I felt my thighs give out and slump under the pleasure, my mind completely blank except for the pleasure-chemicals in my brain firing nonstop.
I didn't drop to the bed, though. He just held me in place and kept fucking me. “Do you like that, slut?” he asked.
“God yes,” I groaned back.
Eventually he pulled his slick cock from me, his hand stroking up and down the shaft. He roughly slapped my ass to warn me, and pulled me around to face him.
I curled my legs up below me, my eyes focused on his slowly stroking hand as it moved up and down his cock. “You said you wanted to taste me,” he panted. “You ready?”
I nodded, too gone to smile, and took his hands from his cock. I reached around and grabbed his ass again, this time with both hands, and took him into my mouth, stroking him with my lips. Quickly, I could feel his cock growing in my mouth, his hips moving as he drove it into me.
His whole body went stiff as a board, and he grabbed the back of my head with both hands as he erupted in my mouth, his creamy salty-sweetness hitting my tongue as I choked on him, a little cum and drool slipping from the corner of my lips. A moan escaped my lips from around his cock as an aftershock from a previous orgasm tremored through my body. I swallowed him down greedily, sucking hard as I dragged my teeth lightly on the underside.
He swore and tightened his fingers in my hair, panting as he pumped into my mouth till he went soft.
I pulled him from my mouth, letting his slick, soft tool slide past my lips. I grinned wearily up at him. “How was that?” I asked.
He slumped, his whole body relaxing as he stroked my face. “That was fucking amazing.”
“When can you go again?” I asked, stroking his flaccid manhood as I rose from the bed.
“Goddamn you're insatiable,” he growled as he batted my hand from his cock and pulled me to his sweat-slick body. He grabbed my ass and pulled me closer, our sexes grinding wetly and wonderfully as he kissed me again.
He was wrong. I wasn't insatiable. I was actually about as sated as I'd ever been. My pussy was sore, my jaw hurt, and my body desperately needed a rest. But that didn't matter. I needed him to pass out so I could make my break.
“Well,” I whispered with a grin when we broke our kiss, we only have tonight, right?” I pressed my lips to his, attacking him with renewed gusto.
I slipped my hand back down between us, smiling as we continued to kiss. I could already feel him getting in the mood, and beginning to press his stiffness against my belly.
“You know, Handsome,” I said. “Since you just finished in my mouth and all, maybe I should finally know your name?”
“Kort,” he said as he pushed me back down on the bed by my shoulders, his eyes burning with desire. “Name's Kort.”
I grinned up at him. “Nice name, Kort,” I said just before taking him back into my mouth.
This was going to be a long night.
Chapter Six
Kort
I awoke naked in the motel room. The sound of the shower still going in the bathroom made me groggily shake my head as I craned my neck to listen. Lydia had just drained me for the third or fourth time, then whispered that she was going to disappear into the shower and rinse off before crawling back into bed with me so we could go again. She'd offered to scrub my back if I wanted to join her, but I was so exhausted I could barely move.
Apparently, Lydia hadn't figured out I knew who she was. Maybe my slip-up at the restaurant hadn’t registered. She just wanted me, as much as I wanted her. She and I had fucked every which way a man and woman possibly could. It had been amazing, the best night of wild sex I'd ever had. Apparently, Joey's little girl could get down like a dirty slut when she wanted to.
I wiped a hand down my face, my head still fuzzy from sleep. Hadn't she just taken a shower last night? Wasn't that what she was doing when I finally drifted off to sleep? I glanced over at the alarm clock on the night stand, checked the time. It was late, right around midnight. I had no idea what time she'd slipped into the shower.
I got up out of the bed and padded around to the bathroom. My little nap had given me a burst of energy, and even though I was sore down there I thought I could enjoy another little piece of action before I had to drag her kicking and screaming back to daddy.
“Amy?” I called, remembering to use her fake name. She didn't respond immediately, so I opened the door and pushed inside, a cloud of hot steam rolling out to coat my naked body. “Amy?” I asked the drawn shower curtain.
No response. I yanked it open. Empty.
“Son of a motherfucking bitch!” I cursed, then rushed back into the room and started to pull my clothes back on.
Of course she’d known. I felt like a total idiot. The bitch played me like a fucking guitar, strumming me this way and that like it was nothing. She knew exactly what she was doing and waited for the perfect moment to get away.
Dressed, I hit the door at a run. Out on the walkway, I stopped, glancing around. “Think, Kort. Think, what would you do in her shoes?”
First thing, I'd steal a car. My keys were still in my pockets so she hadn't gone that route. What else? She lived around here, so maybe she was able to get a ride somewhere, or was able to borrow a car. The motel manager or the night clerk might know if she'd had any friends or acquaintances. I'd check there first.
I headed off to the little office I'd checked in at originally. As I got closer I realized there were two state troopers outside interviewing people. One of the troopers was talking to a couple guests, an older couple, the other talking to the desk clerk who'd checked me in earlier. I could see their white and black squad car parked a short distance away. No lights on, or anything, but I could tell they were here on a call.
“We were just putting our bags up in the room,” the man they were interviewing said with a shrug, “so I left the keys in the ignition.”
I walked closer, close as I dared without making either of the troopers suspicious that I was eavesdropping.
“…can't believe it's Amy. Maybe someone that looks like her?” the clerk was saying. “She just seemed too sweet, was never any trouble.”
“But she does match that description? You're sure?”
“Not many that would,” the clerk admitted with a sigh of resignation and a shake of his head. “Not many I guess, not around here. Amy sure is a real knockout. Can't imagine there being more than a couple girls that pretty in the entire county.”
Yeah, I silently agreed. That sounds like Lydia, alright.
“Yes,” the older man's wife said, “it was a gray 2004 Toyota Camry with a white scratch on the rear bumper.” She went onto say the license plate number, but I was too busy sprinting to my own car
to hear the rest.
The question now was, which was did she go? East? Or West?
I hopped in my Camaro and fired it up, the engine roaring to life. I pulled out of my parking spot and drove up to the parking lot. East was back towards Xander’s place. I knew that. West? West was towards California, and further away from her father. She'd spent her entire life running away from him, what would make her suddenly change her mind and start running towards him?
Yeah, she'd definitely head West. Probably stop before she got to the state line, with was only about ninety miles, then hop a bus for the rest of the way. That's what I'd do at least. Getting busted with a stolen car was one thing, getting busted with it while crossing state lines was another entirely.
I floored it and pulled out onto Highway 65, my rear end fishtailing all over as my tires laid rubber. She wouldn't be speeding, in case she drew more notice that way. If I was lucky, I'd still be able to catch her before she hopped a bus or hitched a ride.
That is, of course, if I was lucky. But so far Lady Luck hadn't exactly been favoring me.
Chapter Seven
Lydia
The highway lights zipped by and the whole Milky Way spread out in front of me like a banquet of stars, a thousand points of light that lit the sky like the Christmas of my childhood memories. The road was peaceful, the humming of the tires like a sweet lullaby.
In the midst of all this beauty and calm had to fight to keep my head clear. My eyes seemed to flicker to the rear view mirror every other second, a sign of my paranoia as I drove half-expecting to be pulled over by the troopers. I couldn't believe I'd stolen those old folks' car. I felt awful, and hated myself, but at the same time what choice did I have?
That transgression didn't fuck with me nearly as much as having to leave again so soon. This was the fifth or sixth time, and it felt like I was close to running out aliases. I was exaggerating, of course, but it was still frustrating to have to pick up and leave Buck's. He was a sweet old man, and he'd been genuinely nice to me. Plus, the tips had been decent, and it was within walking distance of the motel I'd been living at.
And then, of course, there was Kort. Handsome, sexy, brutal Kort. My jaw, my pussy, my tits, my arms and legs. Everything was so deliciously sore because of him. I'd showered and cleaned up so I didn't have that constant reminder of our night together.
It was crazy, but I’d had to stop myself from crawling back into bed and waking him up with my mouth in some other, more delicious ways. Maybe I could have stuck around? Convinced him to run far, far away with me, to a place Pops would never find us. I would have liked that. He seemed like the kind of man that it would be good to keep around, especially if the sex was always that great.
I shook my head, saying aloud, “Get him out of your thoughts, girl. Keep your head straight.”
The sign for the next town flew by in my headlights. Ten miles, it said, just ten miles to go.
I spent the next few minutes trying to piece together my plan. I didn't have much of one, to be honest. As tempting as it was to commit Grand Theft Auto while crossing state lines, I had no desire to go to prison over something that stupid. The way my life had been going from the beginning that was probably what would happen to me.
No, what I needed was a ride. Anyone would do, I figured, but long haul truck drivers were preferable. If I'd had the time, I would have gone back to Buck's and waited for one to come in, then hitch that way. But, as it was, time was a valuable, and dwindling, resource.
I pulled over at the first supermarket I saw and parked the Camry near the back of the lot. I hopped out, stretched quickly, then stuck the keys in the visor and ditched it. I locked the car when I got out, hoping the cops would manage to find it by morning. The parking lot was desolate, with just a few cars parked here and there, mostly clustered near the front where the lights shone. The ones near the back had either been busted out, or their bulbs had died, giving the whole place an ominous feeling.
My stomach growled insistently as I headed inside the store, my pale skin and hair looking pallid under the neon. I hated places like this. They were so vapid and stale, like all the originality and life had been sucked out of them. The people who worked here looked as miserable as I felt.
I wandered up and down the aisles, finally finding the sodas and chips. I grabbed a big bag and a twenty ounce store brand cola and headed up to the checkout. I figured the chips would sate my hunger for a little while, and the drink would at least give me a shot of caffeine to keep my dragging ass going through the evening. There was only one checkout still going at this time of night, and the cashier looked dead inside. A local kid, by the looks of it, who had no hopes of ever leaving. Maybe he had, at one point, but they'd probably dried up long ago.
I hopped into line and put my two items down on the belt in front of me. The cashier just looked at me, not even asking how I was doing. As he began to ring up my items, another guy stepped into line behind me and began to place his items on the belt. I glanced back at him, sizing him up real quick. He looked like he might just be passing through. Medium size, not too skinny, not too bulky. Maybe he worked out, but he wasn't too serious about it like Kort clearly had been. He looked alright, about college age, and the belt in front of him was full of road trip food. Beef jerky, potato chips, water, soda, and candy bars. Most importantly, I figured he looked somewhat safe.
After the cashier rang up the two items, he gave me the total in a flat monotone.
“Hey, I got a question. You know anyone who I could catch a ride with?” I asked as I pulled out my pocket cash, the smaller amount I kept for basic things.
“Sorry,” the cashier monotoned back, “no.”
The guy behind me in line spoke up. “You need a ride?”
“Yeah,” I said as the cashier bagged my items, “out West. My car broke down and I can't afford to fix it. Why? You headed out that way?”
He nodded, smiling. He looked me up and down again, something I should've taken as a warning sign. “Yeah. Me and my sister and my, uh, mom, we're headed out to LA. You wanna catch a ride with us? We're parked right out front.”
Sister and mom? That was music to my ears. No guy would try something with his mom and sister in the car, would he?
“I mean, if it wouldn't be any trouble,” I gushed as I grabbed my plastic grocery bag from the cashier, “that'd be perfect! I can chip in gas money or whatever you need.”
He just laughed and waved off my offer. “No worries. Don't look like you'll add much to the gas bill or anything.”
I stuck around for the few moments it took for the cashier to finish ringing up my unexpected savior's groceries.
The guy grinned at me, his look drifting a little to leering, as he walked past. “Car's out this way,” he said back over his shoulder to me.
I fell in behind him and we headed out of the store, bags of road trip food dangling from our hands. My stomach grumbled again as we went through the automatic sliding doors and I dug into my bag of chips, tearing them open right there as we walked through the foyer where they kept all the shopping carts and began to munch on them.
He looked back over his shoulder again at me, smirking. “Don't normally see pretty girls eating potato chips,” he told me.
I smiled and daintily wiped some crumbs from my chin as we stepped outside. I glanced around one more time, looked around the lot for signs of Kort's muscle car. Sure, I'd left him exhausted and well-fucked back in the hotel room, but I knew your problems always had a way of catching up to you.
Together this new stranger and I headed out to the parking lot. He'd parked nearer to the back, on the edges of one of the intermittent pools of light. It was an older minivan, maybe a Dodge. The interior of the van wasn't lit very well, but I could see that the passenger side seat was laid back into a reclining position.
“Car broke down, you said?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Engine went bust on me when I got to town.”
“Well that suc
ks. Ain't got anyone to call that could help you out?”
I frowned as a range of emotions rattled me. Even though my car wasn't actually broken down, and all I was doing was telling lies to help fabricate some fictional story, the question hit home. I didn't have anyone to call. My mother was dead. My father was psycho and had men hunting me down. My only friends were Buck, Mario, and the guys at the truck stop, and I'd had to leave them behind when I fled the motel, just like I'd had to flee all my other friends in all the other small towns and truck stops I'd lived in for the last five years. Even so, could I actually call them friends? Could you call someone who didn't even know your real name a friend?
“No,” I said simply, flatly, trying to hide the unexpected turmoil inside me.
