Kandiland

by T. L Smith

  “That could take a long time,” I chime while squirming in my seat.

  How can his words make me horny?

  That’s just unfair because nothing he said was nice.

  His hands grip the wheel tighter.

  “I have all day,” he says, turning away from the town. He keeps on driving, not saying another word until we stop at a house. It’s old, older than mine, and mine needed lots of new work.

  “I’ll be a minute.” He gets out, leaving me in the car. An older man opens the door, and he doesn’t look happy to see Huxley. Huxley looks back to me, making the old man do the same. They speak in what seems like a heated argument. I’m too busy watching them so when someone bangs on my window I let out a scream. A girl’s standing there, she looks to be around sixteen years old. Winding down the window, she eyes me like I have no right to be here right now.

  “Who are you? And why are you here?”

  I look back to Huxley, but he isn’t watching anymore. He has his back to me as he speaks to the older man.

  “Are you with Hux?” She looks up to him, a smile touching her lips, then she looks back to me. “Why are you with him?” Her nose scrunches up as she waits for an answer from me.

  “You know Huxley?” She scoffs at me. Her eyebrows rise in question when she speaks.

  “Do you?”

  No. That would be a big fat, no. I only get to see what he wants me to see. “I’m in his car, aren’t I?”

  She seems to think on that. Her hair is dark, almost black. She stands away from the car, so I can’t see her face anymore. Huxley turns, looks at her then to me. Shakes his head at something the old man says then walks toward us. Toward her.

  “If you run, you run to me.” She does that scoff again, the same one she gave me. This time a little lighter.

  “You can’t always save me.” He looks down at me, so does she. “Who’s the pink-haired chick?”

  He looks back to her. “No one. Now listen... don’t fucking run again unless you call me. Do you understand?”

  She nods her head furiously. Her body seems to sag with her next words. “He hit me again, I couldn’t...” Huxley’s face goes red. He pulls her to him and kisses the top of her head. “Get in the car.” She pulls back, smiling like that’s the best news she’s heard all day. He looks to me then starts walking back to the house where the old man’s standing.

  “I’m Kandi,” I say, turning in my seat to see her in the back and offering her a smile.

  “Pamela. Hux calls me Pam, though.”

  “Nice to meet you, Pam.”

  She offers me a smile then her eyes drift in Huxley’s direction. Turning around, I see Huxley pull a gun. He lifts it to the old man’s head and leans in. My heart pumps fast. He’s dangerous. Should I even be in this car? If I’d known he had a gun, I wouldn’t have.

  “Don’t worry, he just does that to scare him,” Pam says looking at me.

  Huxley puts his gun away and walks back to us. Getting in, he starts the car, slamming the door and pulling away, skidding on the road as we make our way back into town.

  “How long for this time?” Pam asks, leaning forward watching him. She looks at him like she loves him. She can’t be his kid, the thought ran through my mind. A sister maybe? I don’t want to ask. So I stay where I am not speaking.

  “This weekend, you have school on Monday.”

  She huffs, sitting back. Turning, so only he can see me, I watch him. Waiting for him to explain this to me. He looks to me once not saying anything, just keeps driving.

  “Is this your girlfriend?” Pam asks.

  He said I was no one before, so why’s she asking.

  “No.”

  “Why is she here then? You never bring people out here.”

  “We had plans,” he says. He seems to answer all her questions. Even if it’s hostile she doesn’t seem to care, or even be bothered by it. He pulls into my street then my driveway. Words don’t seem to escape me as we come to a stop. He gets out, opening my door.

  I look back to Pam, smiling. “It was lovely meeting you. If you ever need to run away again, you’re always welcome here. I have paint, heaps of paint,” I say, winking at her while getting out.

  Huxley shuts the door, walking me to my door. “Don’t offer her that again.” He turns, walking back to the car. I’m about to yell at him until I see Pam watching me. Offering her a small wave, I walk inside fuming with anger. And it’s all directed at him, yet again.

  Our relationship will only consist of work, nothing more. Delete this number.

  Throwing my phone on the bed, my head drops to it. After he demanded I go with him today, he couldn’t even be nice about the fact he had to cancel. Asshole. My phone beeps and I ignore it. Fuck him. Flicking on Netflix, I go back to watching The Sinner, which I’m kind of addicted to. I really, really, want to know who the killer is. But as usual with any television program that comes on, I soon pass out.

  MY DOOR’S BEING BANGED on, very fucking loudly. Looking at my phone, I slept way longer than I intended to. My show’s finished, and I didn’t even discover who the killer was. I want to cry inside because now I have to find where I was up to again. The banging continues. Walking to the door, I pull it open to see Huxley there, and it almost feels like déjà vu. Groaning, I shut the door, aiming to slam it in his face, but he of course catches it, stopping me from closing it.

  “We don’t know each other! Now, fuck off.”

  “She stays out of this life, I’ve always kept her separate.” He says it like that’s some sort of an apology. I go to shut the door again. He huffs, and it reminds me of Pam.

  “She’s my foster sister.”

  My hand freezes on the door. I didn’t know he was fostered. Should I have?

  “He beats her, just like he beat me.”

  My hands drop from the door, and I let it swing open. “I’m sorry.”

  He nods. “She wants to come here, asked about painting.”

  I smile. “She’s welcome anytime.”

  He nods his head again because he knows I speak the truth. “Do you want to change?” Huxley looks me over, I’m still in the skirt I had on earlier. This one is shorter than the ones I wear to work. I have a thing for skirts, I love them.

  “This doesn’t change the fact you’re still an asshole.”

  He steps in, his hands coming to my waist then sneaking to my ass as he lifts me up kicking the door closed with his foot. I’m a sucker for his punishment.

  “Maybe I should undress you, then.”

  My skirt goes up to my hips. Leaving me in only my G-string. He tears at the side of it until it’s broken and then he pulls it free from my body. Pushing me up against the wall, I grip his shoulders and hold on as he lets one hand go to pull his cock free. He positions me and slams me down on him. A yelp leaves my mouth, a groan leaves his. Rough sex is my favorite kind of sex.

  He continues to slam me into the wall, possibly bruising my back as his cock punishes me. He bites my earlobe, taking it between his teeth and nibbling. His other hand slaps my bare ass as my hands grip his shoulders, and I slide myself up and down him like he’s now my favorite ride.

  He is.

  “You’re a dirty slut for my cock, aren’t you, Kandiland?”

  I nod my head, there’s no denying it. It’s one of my favorite places lately. He makes my mind go blank to everything, and all I can think about is him.

  “Good girl, my dirty ho. Now fill me with your medicine, each dose makes me better and better.”

  I want to tell him to not call me that. And that I’m not his medicine. He can’t say that. But I don’t, because I secretly like the way he says it—it’s gruff and full of sexual innuendo. Just the way he is. I doubt he calls anyone else his Kandiland, and the small endearment does something to me. Makes me almost happy that he’s given me a term of endearment at all.

  “Fuck...” leaves my mouth. He slaps my ass again and as he does I come. My hands relaxing on his shoulders. H
uxley isn’t done, though. His hands grip my waist, and he does the job I was just doing. He lifts and slams me back down until he comes himself. Fucking me until I come again. How, I have no fucking idea. But when my name leaves his lips, I come right along with him. He pushes me off the wall. My back aching as he carries me to my bathroom. He puts me down, taps my nose then cleans himself off, passing me a towel. My hand touches my nose. Smiling then instantly hiding it when he turns to look at me.

  “You need to leave...” he looks at me, shaking his head, “... so I can use the bathroom,” I say, finishing my sentence.

  “Are you ashamed to pee in front of me? Shy now, are we?”

  I nod my head. That wasn’t even something Jarod would see.

  It was something Stacey taught me—always go to the bathroom after sex. It stops you from getting an infection.

  “Leave.” He hesitates then walks to the door looking back to me.

  “You get this one, not the next. I’ll wait by your bed. Dress in something warm, we have plans.” He shuts the door, walking out. Leaving me to finally be able to breathe without him near, and to catch my breath.

  Chapter 17

  Huxley

  She walks out dressed in her skirt, again. I swear all I ever see her in lately is skirts. It fucks with my head. Does she wear them on purpose? To fuck with me, because my willpower is so low when she’s near. I raise an eyebrow, and she twirls on the spot, her hair spinning with her.

  Fuck. She’s beautiful.

  “Don’t panic, I’ll bring a sweater.” Standing off her bed, I watch as she pulls a sweater from her closet and walks over to me, lacing her arm through mine as she smiles up at me. “I used to be in love, have you been?”

  That’s an odd question.

  Why is she asking me this?

  “Don’t worry, stud muffin, I won’t fall in love with you. This heart of mine has already been broken once, I won’t choose to do it again.”

  I nod my head, instant relief calming me. “No, and I never intend to be.”

  Her lips pucker. “I’m not sure if I should feel sorry for you or happy,” she says letting me go to shut her door. Her hand comes back through mine as we walk to my car and I open the car door for her.

  “Why?” I ask when I get in while she fidgets with the hem of her skirt.

  “Sorry? Because you’re missing it. That person that makes everything instantly better. Just one look and you know... just know that they’ll do everything in their power to love you. Or sorry, because you’re missing out on it. That crazy love makes your heart beat hard, and butterflies swarm in your stomach.”

  She talks about love like it’s a fictional fucking character.

  “My understanding of love, is through the bad you’ll still want to see the good. Even if they’re an asshole.” She laughs at me. “So, where’s your love?” I ask her, she visibly flinches like I’ve hit her with my words.

  “Dead,” is all she says.

  The lights come into view as we pull onto the dirt road.

  “Will Pam be okay?” she asks looking out at the lights that illuminate the hill and the racetrack.

  “Yes, Alfred’s with her.” She smiles at my answer.

  “She really looks up to you. How long were you with her? Before you left,” she asks me.

  Shifting in the seat, I think back. Not long enough. I should have stayed. But I couldn’t stay in that house a second longer than necessary. So, I did everything in my power to make sure she was okay. Without coming into contact with those fuckheads.

  “Four years.”

  “I’m sorry you were raised by assholes.”

  I smirk at her words. If only she knew. “We’re here.”

  She looks around, and there’s people everywhere. At least two hundred. I know all of them, all clients at some point or remaining clients. The cars are lined up, and the drivers are in their cars. Opening her door, she pushes her arm through mine, linking us together like she usually does. Walking to the main area, she looks out in awe.

  “Is this what small-town folk do for fun?” She laughs looking up at me.

  “They race for money. It’s a multimillion-dollar business.”

  Her mouth drops open. I notice an older client, and I point to him. She watches where I point. “That man will bet anywhere from one hundred thousand dollars on one winner alone tonight. His friends will match his bets.”

  “Wow!” she speaks, her eyes look up to me. “Is this yours as well?”

  I nod my head. “Davina’s told you, I own just about everything in this town.”

  “Not everything,” she teases. Ethan spots me and makes his way over to us. He eyes Kandi as she glues herself to me, not letting go of my arm as she continues to look.

  “Sir.”

  Her head snaps to him, and she looks up at me. “No king.” She snickers, laughing at herself, so I pinch her ass. Ethan watches us with amusement.

  “Oh, he likes to be called that, but we heard it’s only reserved for the bedroom.” Ethan winks at her. Her cheeks heat in surprise at his words. I pull her closer, and he looks back to me. “Patrick’s ready when you are.” Looking down to her, I tell her what’s about to happen.

  “Patrick’s my best driver. He’s about to race up that hill and try not to get killed doing it.” She looks at me in shock as her head turns to the hill. It’s scary, I’m not going to lie. People have died on that hill not knowing how to drive it.

  “That thing shouldn’t be driven on, they’ll die.”

  Ethan laughs at her words. “They shouldn’t, if they do...” Ethan shrugs, I hit him with a hard stare. He turns, walking away from us. I walk us to the front of the racetrack, and people offer hellos. She waves at those that say hello to her, then she clings to me tighter as the gun is shot and the cars take off. Her body jumps every time one of the cars hits each other but manages to stay on the track. It takes a total of thirty minutes for both racers to get to the top and back down. The hill is windy, dangerous. And not one to be taken lightly.

  Patrick wins.

  He’s lucky he did.

  Ethan nods to me smiling as he walks over to the cars taking ownership of the losing car. That will go into my storage. Pink slips included.

  “That was.... how often do they do that? My heart couldn’t handle that.”

  I laugh at her and wonder how she’d react if she saw one go off the hill. “Once a month.” Pulling her down, I sit bringing her to my lap. She sits on me, her legs around my waist, her hands around my shoulders.

  “Does it make you horny?” I smirk at her words.

  “It makes me want to fuck you right now. Right here. How does that sound?”

  She laughs and her cheeks going bright pink. I pull her skirt down so no one can see her ass, and she offers me a kind smile in return. Her hand drops from my shoulder leaving the other there. It snakes down the front of my open jacket to the front of my jeans. She smiles, leaning in and cupping my hard cock through my jeans.

  “Maybe I might let you. How does that sound?” she teases.

  “Would you tempt a dying man in the desert with water?” She shakes her head at me. “So why tempt me, because I’m dying for your lips to be around my cock.”

  “Maybe we can arrange that.” She bites at my ear. Never in my entire life have I been this infatuated with someone before. Never have I wanted a woman the way I want her. She’s making me crazy, not in a good way either. Pulling her as close as humanly possible, she starts giggling in my ear. Her voice is so sultry, I want to hear her scream my name again.

  “Sir...” I want to tell him to fuck off. Looking up, Patrick’s standing in front of me, his helmet in his hand and a look on his face that tells me he’s about to try getting out of his contract yet again. His eyes flick to Kandi who’s still on my lap then back to me.

  Kandi, who I didn’t even realize has frozen in position. I lift up her face with a finger under her chin, her eyes wide. She’s scared—of what, I don’t know.
r />   “Kandi...” He says her name like he has every right to. He doesn’t. Her back straightens and tears suddenly leak from her eyes.

  What in the actual fuck is happening?

  She pushes off me, and I want to pull her back where she belongs. Her face is angry, her eyes red from tears. I don’t even think she realizes she’s crying.

  Why is she crying? That’s what I want to know.

  I stand straight after her, my hand lies on the small of her back. She steps forward, pushing my hand away. Looking up, Patrick’s looking at her like... a man that loves her.

  No! No way.

  His hand lifts like he wants to touch her face, but she shakes her head.

  “Don’t you dare.” Her voice is shaky. Anger? Hurt? I’m confused which one.

  “Kandi...” Her head starts shaking at his words. He reaches for her again, touches her arm and pulls her to him. Kandi’s head lies on his shoulder. They’re the same height, they seem to fit each other perfectly. That can’t be right, what’s happening? His hands are on her and it's making me angry. But before I can do anything, she does. She pulls back and keeps stepping back until her back hits my front.

  “You died.”

  He looks to me, then to her. “Not with him, Kandi... not him.”

  She laughs through her tears. Then her hand touches mine pulling me from my death stare at him. I was contemplating what he’d look like if I beat his face in.

  “With anyone I choose. You. Died.” She turns in my arms, and she looks up at me. Hurt’s evident everywhere in her eyes.

  Do I care, though?

  Or am I mad he took her attention and potentially my best fuck buddy. I’m not sure, and I don’t want to think about that side of things. I do want to hurt Patrick, though. Very much so.

  “Take me home, please.” She pulls my hand as she starts walking, taking me with her. Patrick looks to me, his eyes now angry. He’s trying to hide that fact, but he’s failing miserably. We don’t stop until we reach the car. Unlocking the car, I open her door for her. She doesn’t look at me, in fact, she looks everywhere but at me when she gets in. We drive in silence until we reach her street. She seems to be relieved when we do.