by Kylie Hudson
I smack her again. “I can’t fucking hear you.”
“Yes.” Her voice is louder, but shaky.
“Yes what.”
‘Yes, Ryker.”
“Call me Mr. Dean.”
“Y...yes...Mr. Dean,” she sobs.
My hands find her hips and I begin rubbing the head of my hard cock against her slippery opening. Skylar wiggles her ass and I almost nut into her crack. This pussy was well worth the fucking wait. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Dean.”
Now that’s more like it. I begin to move inside her in a slow, steady rhythm, until I pull her closer and throttle into a hungry speed, my balls slapping against the crack of her ass. Skylar is moaning my name, flinging her head from side to side as I thrust into her. “Now this is how I fuck my pussy. And I own this pussy, Skylar Blake and don’t you forget it.”
“Yes, Mr. Dean. I love your cock and yes, you own this pussy.”
I grind my back teeth and close my hands around her throat, as I force my cock into the deepest recesses of her channel. “You are choking me and making me come…I am coming.” Skylar is now a blubbering mass, her box hot and wet, like a vortex gripping me, as she fights for breaths as her orgasm smashes her into bits and pieces.
My legs are shaking. I can feel my juices surging forward. Cursing, I pull out and spill my creamy load all over her shuddering ass.
Then my fucking phone rings.
Not just any phone, but THAT phone. I say that phone because it is an uber private number that very few people in the world are in possession of. People, who should I say, are of more nefarious and dubious characters. This number is for the men and women I use to do my dirty work, whether it be business or personal.
For a moment I am tempted to just let it continue ringing, but shit, I know I can’t. This phone only rings when there is an emergency afoot. “Excuse me a minute, Skylar.” I hiss air through my teeth, feeling the throbbing of my still hard cock which is oozing semen. “I have to take this call, so you can clean up and return to the party.”
“But Ryker.” She starts to protest, but one look from me and she quiets down, trying to mask her disappointment as I stroll away from her naked frame and slip into a private room adjoining the gym.
My fantasy has been fulfilled, now duty calls. It’s time to see what’s cooking in my dubious alternate universe.
CHAPTER 1
Ryker
“Speak, and I hope this is damn important,” I spew into the cellphone.
“Ever a man of words, I see.” A coarse voice emanates from the other end of the line and for a moment my heart thunders and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. This is a voice from the past that I never thought I would ever hear again.
“Aiden…Aiden, is that you?” I deadpan. “I haven’t heard your voice in years. I thought you were dead.”
Yes, it‘s true, I had thought the man dead in some rat-infested hole somewhere on the planet. Aiden Conrad, the brutal son-of-a-gun who had saved my life on more than one occasion when I was a head-strong kid growing up and trying to make my way in the world by being a tough guy. The same Aiden, who as a shot caller back in those days, taught me the ropes of the streets and when I excelled, applied on my behalf to Yale and pulled some strings to get me a scholarship that put me on the path to prosperity.
“Yeah, it’s me, Ryker.” His voice sounds as if he is exhausted; like a man at the end of the ropes and ready to cash in his chips. “But I might as well be dead, I am dying boy…the big C, I guess from smoking all the shit I have in my life. The doctors say I have two months to live if I am lucky.”
My cheeks puff and I exhale a hard breath. A feeling of remorse washes throughout my core. I feel guilty that I have not done more for the man who was more than a father to me than my own worthless sperm-donor of a dad, who used to beat the shit out of me, until one day I retaliated, smashing his nose and storming out the house, never to return.
Still, Aiden brings back memories I would rather forget in a hurry. “Shit man, you just disappeared and try as I might, I never managed to find you all these years.” It’s true, I had searched long and hard, but he had disappeared into thin air, so I thought him dead since I could not find him, not even in the prison system.
He sighs heavily. “I didn’t want to be found. There were some serious people after me, who, let’s just say would have been only too happy to send me to hell.”
“Where are you and how did you remember this number?”
“I am in Jamaica and Ryker Dean you are a creature of habit. I know you would never change this number, not when you still need people like me.”
There are so many burning questions on my lips, but the man is dying for Christ sake. “What the fuck are you doing in Jamaica man, and anything you need, the best doctors, money, just name it and consider it done.”
Aiden coughs a vicious one into the phone. He sounds awful and for a moment by body trembles with guilt; guilt that I am still here while he is ready to kick the bucket. “I met a sweet Jamaican gal and decided to chill out in paradise, but damn it Aiden I lost all my money gambling and womanizing. I’m a mess.”
A sigh escapes my lips. Damn, I would rather be upstairs in one of my bedrooms banging the shit out of Skylar in a second round, but that will have to wait. Aiden would not have called unless he needed a favor, and no matter what it is, I know in my heart I will not hesitate to grant it. After all, if it weren’t for him I would be dead right now. “How can I help? Speak and it is done.”
“I have a stepdaughter,” Aiden sputters. “A delightful but mouthy little one; just turned twenty-one, but her mother has passed away and with me about to join that woman, God bless her soul, I need your help in securing her future.” The coughing starts again and my heart sinks. Aiden sounds like he has a few more hours before he croaks, much less two months.
Pacing the floor of the drawing room, I peer outside the window, savoring the amazing view of the valley below from my home in Hollywood Hills. Sure, I have done a lot of shit in my life, but I have just one regret – that I was never able to repay Aiden for all he did for me. Now, it seems I have been given another chance to right a grievous wrong. It may be a little late, mark you, but still I can help out an old friend. “How much money do you want me to send you?”
There is a pause on the line. “C’mon Ryker, money is no good to me now, nor my stepdaughter if she winds up dead.” Again he pauses and coughs into my ears. “Let’s just say there are some guys that are after me but won’t make a move as long as I am alive. Once I die they will go after the one thing they know was precious to me in the world as an act of revenge – sweet Siena, who is almost like my own daughter.”
“What do you want, if not money?” My ears prick and I cut to the chase.
“I want you to get her the hell out of Jamaica and to the United States with you. Ryker, you owe me that much. I want you to make her your fiancé so she can get that K-1 Visa and go to the USA where you can protect her. You can marry her if you want and after a respectable period arrange a divorce, set her up with enough money and make sure she is set for the rest of her life.” Aiden coughs another vicious round. “That’s the wish of a dying man,” Ryker drawls, and I will go peacefully, knowing I am leaving her in your safe hands.”
There is a long silence on the phone as I continue staring through the window. I can hear the faint sound of the party outside but my head space is far removed from festivities.
I shake my head in the darkness. “Yes, Aiden. You can count on me. I will protect your stepdaughter with my life.”
***
“Senator Cornwall, I trust you are well, old man,” I mouth into my IPhone.
“Ryker Dean, you old son-of-a bitch, I haven’t heard from you in quite awhile. And who the hell are you calling an old man. I would have you know I can still whip your ass any day of the week.”
“I have been busy.”
“Too bus
y tripping around the globe with those young Hollywood starlets, I see.”
“You know how it is Senator, It’s a hard job but someone has to do it.”
“And by the way, thanks for your recent donations and that little filly you sent up to my hotel room.”
I smile at the thought. It is always good to have powerful politicians in your back pocket. Of course it costs you a bundle; what with campaign contributions and other let’s just say donations of a pleasurable kind. “I need a favor, Senator.” It’s time to get down to the task at hand.
“Just name it Ryker and it is yours.”
“It’s of a more personal nature.”
“I am intrigued.”
“I am engaged, with a fiancée in Jamaica and I plan to submit an application for a K-1 Visa. I need it pre-approved and expedited, as in a matter of a few weeks.”
There is a pause on the other end of the line. “Ryker, I can’t believe it. You engaged and to a foreigner? Man she must be something else.”
“She is,” I lie. I had had no choice but to grant Aiden his dying wish. I have not even seen a photograph of Siena much less met her. My life is too goddamn busy, and with Aiden close to taking his last breath I need this business taken care of with the minimum of ease. I will figure out the rest when she is on American soil. “Just take care of the matter for me. My admin will contact your admin with the details shortly.”
“Well, any girl that can tame you deserves special privileges. Have your admin send the paperwork and I’ll see to it.” With that Senator George Cornwall hangs up. I breathe a sigh of relief and settle back into my chair inside my office Los Angeles offices. I may live in Hollywood Hills, but of late most of my time has been spent in movie studios and my Tribeca apartment in New York. When you run a multi-billion bi-coastal empire like I do, life is literally on the run.
Now, with the business with Senator Cornwall out of the way, it’s time to get the ball into motion. Normally it takes about five months minimum to about three years max for approval of a K-1 Visa, more popularly called a 90-Day Visa, but with my clout it can be easily approved, and Siena won’t have to go through all the crap that foreigners have to endure in terms of sweating through an interview. My connections will see to that.
“Penny,” I mouth into my intra-office intercom.
“Yes boss,” my admin assistant, Penny Morgan, coos in response.
“Get your pretty butt in here; I have something major I want you to handle for me.”
“Coming, boss man.” Before I click the line Penny knocks once, opens my office door and enters. Shit, you have to see this girl to believe. She is tall, I mean runway model tall, and she likes to wear six-inch heels which make her even more impressive. And damn does she know how to dress, always impeccably put-together both in terms of clothes and make up.
Penny slides into the chair in front of me. Her emerald green eyes, similar to mine I must add, focus squarely on my face. “How may I help, Ryker?”
We have a policy, Penny and I. In private she calls me Ryker, and why not, a man as busy as myself needs an assistant to run his life, and make no bones about it, Penny sets my daily agenda and ensures both my business and private life motor along seamlessly. Not only is the girl drop-dead gorgeous, but she is super-smart and efficient. Count me lucky to have her. “Penny.” It almost sounds too crazy for me to say the next few words. “I am engaged and planning to get married.”
Her eyes tick upward and I can almost see the cogs in her brain turning over. “Then congratulations are in order, Ryker. Who is the lucky girl?” Knowing Penny she has tons of questions, but she knows better than to ask.
“Her name is Siena and she lives in Jamaica, so I will need you to make a K-1 Visa application and have Senator Cornwall’s office expedite the process.”
Penny’s lips part and for a moment she is tempted to ask a question, but decides against it. “Just give me the details and I will take care of it.” She grabs hold of the file folder I have on my desk with Siena Ward printed on it. “And once again congratulations Ryker, she must be a very special girl.” That said, Penny sashays out of the office, her tight ass rocking back and forth in that rhythmic walk of hers, with not even a fucking panty-line showing on her tailored skirt suit.
CHAPTER 2
Siena
This is all happening too fast, way too fast. Just when I have turned twenty-one and ready to take charge of my life, my controlling stepdad decides he wants to play the doting parent.
“Dad,” yes he insists I call him dad. “I am not going to marry some shady old pot-belied friend of yours just to get a K-1 Visa and live in the United States,” I snort angrily. “Why can’t I just get a job to support us and stay here with you in Jamaica?”
The man who has been in and out of my life since my early teen years breaks into a coughing fit that makes my blood curdle. “Because I have to secure your future, and besides it’s just a business arrangement.” Aiden coughs again. “You know I am dying girl, so stop pretending, and with me gone there will be no one to protect you and take care of you.” His face is distorted with an anguished look that makes my blood thicken. “Now look, my friend will take good care of you and should you guys decide to get married, after you are divorced he will set you up financially and you can move along and do whatever else you want for the rest of my life.”
My bosom rises and falls sharply and the air rushes fiercely out of my nostrils. No way do I want to live with, or God forbid, marry some middle-aged friend of my stepdad and endure a creepy life with him, no matter what my stepfather says. But he has a point. Yes, he’s dying and with his gambling debts mounting there are some serious Jamaican and foreign gangsters who will come looking for me to collect on those debts. Yeah, little me, with hardly a dollar to my name.
“You should have married my mom and filed for me a long time ago. I would have gotten my Green Card by now,” I snap, tapping him on his frail shoulders. It pains me to see my stepdad, once a big and powerfully built man, now reduced to nothing but skin and bones. He is a proud man and therefore hardly goes out anymore. He just stays in and drinks the awful Jamaican rum that he seems to enjoy so much. “Then you would not have to be selling me off to that friend of yours…whatever the hell his name is.”
Aiden squints and picks up a glass of rum, his feeble hand shaking. His face is gaunt and the eyes of a once mighty man seem to have lost their luster. “Siena, I am not selling you off. He is a very good man, a little bossy mind you, but he will offer you a good life and see to your safety.”
“Then why won’t you tell me his name and something about him?” I huff, quite miffed at my stepdad. “If I am to be engaged and possibly marry the man, then the least you can do is let me know who it is. Am I not entitled to that?”
Aiden sighs and takes a sip of the insipid liquid. “Because I know you Siena, you will go on the internet and Google him, then go onto social media and stalk his profiles and maybe even try to contact him. And hell knows I won’t have you messing with him until you are safely in the United States.”
Seething, I leave the room inside our small, rustic house in Montego Bay, Jamaica’s second city and the tourist capital. How my life is about to change and whether for better or worse I do not know. I have no idea what this man is like or if I will even like him. But my stepdad has ruled, and when he sets his mind to something. It ain’t gonna change.
“Alright, dad,” I groan in a defeated manner, pulling at my hair. “I will agree to this fake engagement, but as soon as we are wed, if we do wed, and I am able to, I am filing for divorce and taking back my life.”
My stepdad’s eyes seem to brighten at my announcement. “Now you are being sensible, girl. I am doing this all for you and one day you are going to look back and thank your good-for-nothing stepfather for doing one thing right in his miserable life.” He lies back in bed and pulls the cover over himself. Even though the room is hot, it is obvious that he is chilly.
“Here, let me h
elp you.” I reach over and draw the shoot over his fragile body. Aiden’s hand sticks upward and caresses my cheek in a loveable manner. There is a forlorn but paternal look in his eyes, and despite my anger, I know he means well. These past few years since my mother died have been hard on me, what with my stepdad hardly being around and me mostly having to fend for myself after graduating from high school. My world was further rocked when he became sick and I learnt that he had just a short time to live.
Departing the room, I venture outside to the gate of the small yard. Marie, my neighbor and friend, spots me and ambles over. “What’s cooking, Siena?” she coos, brows scrunched and her face a mask of concern. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.”
I sigh, as much as my stepdad has told me to keep my upcoming engagement a secret, I need to share the news with someone and I know I can trust Marie not to blab my affairs all around town. “I am engaged to an American and we are getting a K-1 Visa so I can go and live with him in the USA.” My eyes turn misty for a moment and I fight back the tears welling up in them.
Marie tilts her head to the side and ridges pop up on her forehead. “How can this be, Siena. I have never seen an American come and visit you since you moved here?”
I take her hand in mine, caressing her manicured fingers. “You have to swear to secrecy.” My eyes plead with hers.
“Of course,” Marie exclaims, fingers tightening around mine. “Anything you tell me stays with me.”
“It is a business arrangement.” There, I got it off my chest. “If and after we are married, I’ll get a divorce and have my own independence and money.”
My friend lets out a low whistle. “Shit,” she squeals. “I hope it works out, as I hear horror stories about some of these fake marriages by Jamaicans just to get a Green Card. I mean, some of the Americans don’t want to release their spouses after the arrangements are concluded.” She raises her eyebrows and stares at me.
