by AJ Adams
Supporting my weight mostly on my arms and knees gave me the leverage to pump it into her hard. The feel of her hot body as she lay moaning underneath me drove me to thrust faster and faster. I could hear my balls slapping against her creaming pussy.
As I rode her hard and fast, she was tight about my hardness, bearing up and down against me in perfect rhythm. I could see sweat pooling in the small of her back, hers and mine mixing as I drove in and out of her, seeking that white hot oblivion that comes with blowing a load. Her breathing came shallow and fast; mine was deep and shuddering.
My body was centring totally on my cock, rushing towards the peak of perfect pleasure. Gasping now, I half lifted myself up and gave it to her good. There was nothing in the world now except for the slap of my balls and hips thudding into her as I drove my hot, hard shaft in and out of her. She was screaming, her inner muscles rippling around my cock, her legs spread wide as she came again. I could see the splodge running out of her, glistening on her thighs.
The sight of it finally put me over the edge. I came in hot, shuddering gasps, groaning in blissful agony as I exploded inside her. Thrusting slowly, the pulsing climax went on and on, sending waves of heaven shooting through me.
As I slowly collapsed on top of her, spent to the point of passing out, I could hear her whimpering as she settled underneath me. I was too beat to do more than rub a thumb through her hair. We lay in a pool of sweat, stuck together with an ocean of cum. I could feel her every breath, her every heartbeat. It was like my body had fused into hers.
I don’t know about you, but it always takes me a few minutes to get it together again after blowing a load. This time it took me about a year before it slowly registered that I might have been a bit rough. I was too beat to form words, so I thumbed her hair again.
Incredibly, she shifted a little beneath me, and touched her lips to the soft skin in the crook of my elbow. I’d have forgiven her if she’d taken a chunk out of me but she just nuzzled me a little before whispering, “Was that good for you?”
“Hmm.”
She licked my skin thoughtfully. “Want to do it again?”
I think it was at that point that I decided to keep her.
Chapter 4: Chloe
I had that dream again. The one where I’m blindfolded, cuffed and drowning. I fought my way out of it, waking up in a pool of sweat. In my dream I’d been screaming, but I woke to absolute silence. For a moment I had no clue where I was. What year was it? Was being free again just a dream? Or was I still in hell, with Him?
As I listened carefully, my eyes tightly shut, I sensed a warm presence next to me. For a moment I almost screamed, then I realised that it couldn’t be Him. This man had his arm curled around me, spooning me in a friendly way. If it didn’t hurt, it couldn’t be Him. So where the hell was I?
Suddenly it all came flooding back: that beer on the plaza, and meeting Ricardo, the waiter who sneaked me some free taco chips. Poor, stupid, silly, sad bastard. Imagine trying to pass funny money to the cartel. And for what? A bit of dope worth practically nothing?
I courier drugs, but I normally don’t touch them. I’ve seen what that shit does to people, and I don’t want it happening to me. I broke my rule because I hadn’t slept in days and needed a couple of joints to get mellow. I didn’t ever want Him to find out what I’d done, so I couldn’t contact the people I was sent to meet. Still, when you’re in Mexico, getting your hands on some dope is a piece of cake, so after I stepped off the bus, I went straight to a café on the main square and asked the waiter, a kid by the name of Ricardo, where a tourist gringa like me could get nice and high.
When Ricardo said he had a good connection, I thought I was set. What I didn’t realise is that he was a complete dope himself. (That’s a pun, get it?) I gave him fifty bucks and told him to keep twenty percent as his tip. It was a super generous offer because I was far too tired to get up the energy for bargaining. I just wanted to score, check into the hotel and crash.
The second he’d pulled his stupid stunt in that seedy bar, I knew I was in deep shit. It all happened so fast that I couldn’t even get a word out when I saw what was going down. One second I’m thinking that scoring will give me a chance to sleep for 24 hours, and the next they’ve conked us on our heads, thrown us into a van and taken us straight to the local capo.
I told the bastard straight off that I wasn’t in on the scam, but he didn’t care. Ricardo’s stupid ploy warranted a death sentence, and I was collateral damage.
“I’m here to do business!” I pleaded.
I never tell anyone what I’m doing, but you’ve got to understand that I was pretty frantic by then.
“Oh? Who with?”
I didn’t have a name but I had a place. “In the Holiday Inn! Tomorrow!”
He frowned. “The Holiday Inn?”
I struggled to remember the details. “Yeah, in Nuevo Laredo, the Zona Dorada district!”
“That’s not with my people,” he shrugged. And then they’d dragged me away for fun and games.
Thank God for the hulk. I could see at a glance that he was a big scary bastard, but in the end he’d been quite sweet. After that amazing fuck he’d dug out more painkillers, more milk, and even a ham and cheese sandwich. I don’t actually remember the last time I ate such good sharp cheese. I’d been in the Far East for the best part of the last eight years, and they’re not so hot on dairy there. A lot of Asians are lactose intolerant, so they go for tofu and drink soya milk. It’s all right, but it’s not a patch on a good, sharp, aged cheese or a glass of cold, creamy fresh milk.
Remembering the heavenly taste of that cheese made me realise I was forgetting something. It took a second and then my blood froze in horror. The buy was today! I had to get back! If I didn’t, He would be incandescent. I could see a clock by the side of the bed. Its luminous dial announced that it was four o’clock in the morning. There was no time to spare. I had eight hours to get my arse back to Nuevo Laredo, and pronto. Without transport or money, I’d have to hitch or walk.
I wiggled a tiny bit, just to see how much space I had to manoeuvre. The hulk stopped breathing a second; then he carefully removed his arm from around me and rolled over. He breathed deeply once, and I think he was out again in a second, but I counted to a thousand just to be sure. When I was quite certain he was asleep, I slid out of bed.
I picked up my backpack from the bedroom floor and tiptoed into the hall and out to the kitchen. I threw on my spare jeans and a tee. My body ached, especially my neck and shoulders, and I was barefoot, too, but it didn’t matter. I had to get back to the city.
I stood in the kitchen for full thirty seconds, wondering what would happen if the hulk woke up. On the one hand, he might consider our little deal complete. On the other, he might not be too keen on the idea of my sneaking away. I’d have to take the main road back because I had no other way of getting to town. That meant I couldn’t hide. If he was unhappy with my decision to leave, he’d catch up with me on that super fast bike of his in about ten seconds.
There was no way I could stay and talk to the hulk about my business. I knew with ice-cold certainty that He wouldn’t approve. If I got really lucky, I would get out of there and back to town, and He’d never know what happened in between. If I could manage that, it would save me a punishment beating. I would do anything to avoid that.
Thinking about it, I decided that the hulk might just sleep all day and never miss me or wake up and not care. Just in case he had been planning on keeping me around, I covered my arse by leaving a note. My dream book was still by the bed, but there was a notepad by the phone. I opened the fridge door and used its light to write a note. When I picked up the pen, though, I realised I didn’t have a clue what he was called, so I scribbled a message to say thanks for the rescue, the pills, and the sandwich. I signed it, and then added thanks for the fuck, too. It felt a bit funny adding that last bit, but I meant it. It had been totally unexpected, and I was grateful to him.
&nb
sp; When I eased open the kitchen door, there was a little beep. It was so quiet that it hardly registered. I thought it was the fridge or something creaking a bit. I didn’t think anything of it, but a split second later, the hulk appeared. It was dark, but there was enough light from a half moon to see the gun in his hand.
“I didn’t m-m-mean to w-w-wake you,” I stammered.
He looked around real fast and the gun went down. Then he looked at me. “Going somewhere?”
His face was in darkest shadow, and his voice was even, but I knew instantly that he was unhappy. I’d made a mistake. My heart was trying to jump out of my body via my throat, and I was tempted to throw myself at his feet and beg for mercy, but I didn’t want him kicking me in the ribs if I could avoid it.
“I l-l-left a note.” I couldn’t help my voice shaking, but as I picked it up from the table and handed it to him, I gave him my best smile. The ingratiating one. The one that says I didn’t mean it. Really.
He didn’t even glance at it. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Right, ok, sorry, my bad.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I misunderstood. I thought you’d want me out by morning. I’m sorry. I was stupid. I didn’t mean it.”
“All right. Just close the door and come back to bed.”
His voice was soft and gentle, but He never yelled, either. The hulk might be pissed off or not; I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t even see him clearly in this light, but from the good look I’d taken in the bathroom the night before, the main impression I had of him was one of power. He had very short black hair, straight black brows and light grey eyes. He had a long body, and when he moved I could see by the way his muscles rippled how strong he was.
The hulk wasn’t a gym rat or one of those bodybuilder types. He had several scars on his hip and waist that looked like he’d been knifed. There was a ragged looking scar on the side of his neck, and some textured scar tissue on one side of his hips and thighs. He’d also been shot, because there was a neat round mark on the front of one shoulder and a big pink splodgy scar on the back that looked like an exit wound.
I knew this was a mean, muscled fighting machine, and if he decided to punish me for trying to walk away, I would be helpless. The only option was to do as I was told and hope for the best.
I closed the door, turned the lock, and went straight to him, leaning in close and looking humbly at my feet. I was so certain that he’d hurt me that I could barely breathe. I could feel tears coming into my eyes. It was sheer nerves.
He didn’t hurt me. He just put an arm around my shoulders and took me back to his room. I didn’t see where he put his gun, because I was still too scared that this might be leading up to something nasty. Thankfully, it wasn’t. He just told me to undress and pulled me into bed with him.
“You’re safe while you’re here, but don’t wander off,” he said as he punched his pillow into shape. “You didn’t like my neighbours much when you met them yesterday.”
Christ, no, I hadn’t. “Sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t think.”
I felt for him in the dark and kissed the palm of his hand, hoping he’d accept that it was a mistake, and that I didn’t mean it. When he briefly stroked my hair, it felt like forgiveness. I breathed again.
“Where were you running off to?”
He was lying down next to me, and I could feel by his intent stillness that he wanted an answer.
“I have an appointment.”
He was silent.
“Just business. It’s not important.” I tried to sound casual, but he wasn’t buying it.
“At the Holiday Inn.”
Right. He’d seen the note. This wasn’t good.
“Who are you working for, Chloe?”
His voice was soft but the way he said it, I knew he meant business. I was between a rock and a hulk. If I told, He would find out. Just the thought made me break out in a cold sweat. If I didn’t, I was going to get it right now. I heard a whimpering sound and realised it was coming from me.
He leaned against my back and put a hand on my hip. It was warm and large. He didn’t squeeze or hit, and I think he was trying to be kind but it just made me remember how damn big he was. And how strong.
“Chloe, just tell me.”
“I’m a travel writer.” I knew the second the words were out that it was a mistake.
He sighed. “That’s the worst cover story I ever heard. Don’t lie. You haven’t the talent for it. Tell the truth, Chloe.”
“Please. I can’t tell. He’ll kill me!”
“He’s not here, and I am.”
No matter how bolshie I feel, I know a beating will break me. So I told him. I told him everything. About how I travelled to Thailand, Burma, Laos and Myanmar to collect hollow statues stuffed with dope or sometimes backpacks or even suitcases. Then I’d get on a bus, go to the airport, and fly to Paris, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Madrid, Prague or Warsaw, or sometimes back home to London.
“You have only a few stamps in your passport.”
I knew he’d memorised those pages! “I ditch my papers every three months and get new ones.”
“Are you Chloe Smith?”
“Yes. I use it most of the time because it’s so common, and it’s my name. I just switch nationalities, you know, to avoid being picked up? And I dye my hair and cut it differently. But sometimes I travel as Jones, Walker or some other name. I’ve had dozens.”
You can tell I was babbling, right? The hulk could tell I was scared, too. He patted me, and I breathed again. He was going to be nice about this.
“You say you travel to the golden triangle, but your passport has visas for Colombia, Peru, and here.”
“After a while your face becomes known, and the risk of being caught is too great. They switched me to Latin America three months ago.”
“Who do you work for?”
I couldn’t speak. Just thinking about saying His name out loud was freaking me out. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like He had his hands around my neck. His whispering voice echoed in my head, shut up, slut. That’s what he calls me, slut. Just hearing the word gives me the creeps.
“Is it the guy you write about as Him?”
That bloody dream book! I knew it was a daft idea! I should never have done it. That witless self-help book and its promise, Write Your Way Through and Beyond Abuse. Recording my dreams bloody well wasn’t purging me of them. In fact, thinking about that time had brought it all back, which is why I hadn’t slept and why I’d ended up looking to score, and why I was now in even deeper shit than before.
While I lay there, cursing the author of that blasted book, I knew that the hulk was waiting for a reply. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t speak. I was too afraid to nod, even.
“Can you tell me his name?” There wasn’t even the hint of a threat in his voice. He sounded gentle.
I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. The tears were pouring down my face, and I was slick with cold sweat, but I couldn’t make a sound.
He didn’t make me talk. He looked into my eyes and then put an arm around me. “Never mind. Forget about him. I’ll find out who he is and deal with him.”
He didn’t know what he was saying, but I didn’t know how to tell him. Then the hulk pulled me into his arms and lay there silently, so I guessed our conversation was over. I stopped blubbing and tried not to sniffle.
That’s when it got weird. I hadn’t slept with anyone, I mean actually sleep, in a bed, since I was fifteen. You know, before Him. When He had me, I was never allowed to sleep in his presence, and after He freed me, I never went near a man willingly again. Now I couldn’t remember what to do.
You’ll think I’m barmy, but I couldn’t decide if I should cuddle up or move away, or what. The hulk had been nice to me, all things considered, but I wasn’t going to ask him what the rules were for sleeping in someone’s bed. It was bad enough that he’d seen me cry; I wasn’t going to look like a halfwit, too.
The hulk solved it by curl
ing himself around me, tugging me into the curve of his body and settling an arm over me. I felt him sigh once, his breath gentle in my neck, and then he was asleep. It was like he just switched off. I don’t know if normal people can do that, but I was bloody jealous, I can tell you that!
I knew I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. I lay in that bed and wondered what He would do when He heard I hadn’t made the meet. I fretted, watching the minutes tick by on the bedside clock. I was miles away from town. When I’d woken up earlier, it had already been too late for me to walk and make it on time. I watched the clock until it was too late for me to get there unless I got a ride on that super bike from the hulk. Then I watched the clock until I knew it was simply too late.
I tried to convince myself that there was no way He’d guess what had happened, and that the cartel people he was dealing with wouldn’t know, either. After all, I’d gotten off the bus and then vanished. Maybe He’d think I’d been killed. Girls like me disappear all the time, so it wouldn’t be totally suspicious.
Slowly, I began to relax. Being dead had its attractions. For one thing, He couldn’t possibly know where I was. And as I was miles away from town, it wasn’t like we’d run into each other in the street or anything. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. In fact, I was pretty safe. For a while at least.
Safe. Come to think of it, that was a pretty odd word to use. Despite the sweet words, this hulk wasn’t exactly a kitten. If I hadn’t jumped off that block of ice, he wouldn’t have helped me. It was pure luck that I’d barged into him and not one of the pack. That face fuck in the pagoda wasn’t exactly good, either, but having him take me home was a different kettle of fish. That had turned out to be great. I didn’t think I had it in me anymore. The last time I came, I was fifteen. That was before He claimed me. I’d been a bit of a raver up until that point, thoroughly enjoying my time with the boys, and the hulk had set that old feeling of fun rushing through me again. It was totally unexpected, and I was grateful to him for it. If only I could be sure He wouldn’t ever find me…
