“Hey, that’s what the trip is for, getting to know me.”
“But…” she shook her head, smiling, feeling a little afraid that the man would suddenly be gone and she’d never see him again and regret that her entire life.
“I’m Christopher’s bastard son. Does that help?”
“Oh, my god!” She felt as if she’d just been punched in the stomach.
He smiled. “Hey, it was just a weird thought, probably just revenge. But I’m staying in town for the night, if you change your mind.”
“Yeah, sure. It was just a silly thought, huh?” she said, dazed.
He shrugged as he hopped on his motorcycle.
“What’s your name, anyway?” she asked as he started the bike.
“Johnny Gold,” he said, still smiling as he gunned the engine and took off.
Jillian worked in the garden for nearly an hour before she had the courage to venture back inside the house. All she could think of as she weeded the peony bed was Johnny Gold, Christopher Hurst’s bastard son. That’s what he called himself with a chip-on- the-shoulder attitude. Who considered him a bastard, she wondered? Christopher Hurst or Johnny Gold himself? With little thought, she could make up a whole history for the guy… raised by a single mom, a hard luck story, probably moving from place to place, and every so often his mama asked for a handout from his absent, wealthy father. But there’d been an agreement between them long before, and a tough as nails Christopher Hurst wouldn’t budge. The resentment poured from the young man’s eyes like steel blades. Maybe his mama was dead now, or just missing, along with Jillian’s mother, both casualties of Christopher Hurst’s unforgiving heart… maybe that’s how his life had unfolded. Or maybe he was just a swindling conman trying to take what he could from a wealthy man.
When the cold wind of the afternoon finally forced her back inside the house, Jillian discovered that Christopher wasn’t there.
“He left shortly after the boy did,” Marie told her.
“You know the boy?” she asked the maid. “Johnny Gold?”
“Never seen him before,” she replied. “Nice looking guy, though. Little rough, but that don’t hurt nothing.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jillian agreed.
She went to her room to change her clothes, mulling over the odd conversation with Johnny, and finding that her physical response was something akin to the sexual anticipation she felt before a bondage session with Christopher.
“Oh, I’m just horny,” she finally announced aloud to no one but herself. She immediately dismissed the silly idea of taking off on a foolish—not to mention dangerous—journey with a total stranger.
She busied herself for several minutes folding her laundry, but despite her attempts to think of something other than Johnny, her mind kept returning to the image of tearing down the Interstate on the back of his bike, the wind in her hair, her face flushed, her heart finally free.
The more the minutes passed, the more the swell of excitement built inside her. She was quaking, one moment scared, the next certain that Johnny Gold was an angel sent to rescue her life from impending disaster.
She stared out the window trying to blank her mind, put her thoughts at rest, but it didn’t work. It all came back to her. Leave Christopher. If nothing else, just leave!
Why not leave? Why stay? Maybe that was Johnny’s purpose, to get her moving, thinking toward the future that she wanted, not the one she was afraid of. Yes, that’s a reasonable idea, she thought.
But it wasn’t enough to plan her departure. She had to leave now!
Calling down to the kitchen, she excused herself from dinner—she had a headache, she explained drowsily. Then she moved fast. She dressed warmly, threw a few essentials into her college book bag and left her room. After a quick detour into Christopher’s bedroom for one last item to add to her bag, she fled down the back stairs for the second time that day. When she reached the hallway, she heard the front door open at the other end of the house. Christopher was back; she had to go now or she’d never leave. Slipping out without being seen by either the cook or Marie, she darted through the evening shadows to the garage where Christopher stored his old Mercedes. Though it hadn’t been driven in months, it started on the first turn of the key, as if had been ready and waiting for this very moment. It only had to get her into town.
Jillian spotted Johnny Gold’s Harley parked in front of the Nick’s Tavern & Grill, just where she expected he’d be on a Thursday night in Cold River Falls. Driving three blocks past the place, she parked the Mercedes in an isolated corner of the library parking lot, left the keys under the mat and locked the door behind her, hoping that no one had seen her, or recognized Christopher’s car.
Drawing in a deep breath of air to clear away her nervous fear, she headed toward Nick’s with her backpack flung over her shoulder. Relieved once more, she sighed again when the door of the smoky tavern closed behind her, as if it were shutting out an era that would not return.
Her heart still beat fast and she needed to calm, but she wanted to find Johnny first. Gazing around the unfamiliar tavern, she felt out of place in the rough surroundings. But she imagined that she’d have to get used to places like this one if she was planning to travel with Johnny. Yes, that’s what she planned to do. Something rash. A move so totally out of character that it would take Christopher days before he’d even consider it, if he ever did. That was what she was counting on: that he’d never link her disappearance to Johnny Gold.
Moving through the crowd, as if she knew exactly what she was doing, and wasn’t trembling head to toe, she made her way toward the back of the tavern where she finally spotted Johnny drinking a beer at the bar. He had his back to her.
“You said you were serious,” she announced in a cool, crisp voice. “Was I wrong?”
The barstool creaked as Johnny slowly swiveled around. His gaze was level, interested, as his eyes moved from her face to her feet, taking in everything in-between.
He grinned with half his mouth, cockily. “Yeah.” Then he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, ran his hand through his brown hair to smooth it off his face and said: “But we sure as hell don’t want to stay here the night.”
“I agree.” She felt as if she was about to explode. Was she really running away?
“You ever been on a motorcycle?” Johnny asked.
“Never,” she answered.
“Then you’re gonna learn real quick.”
Chapter Four - The Open Road
“Oh, god yes!” She felt his cock crash inside her cunt until it hit her cervix with a painful bang. “More!” she shouted. “Yes, yes yes!” She was cumming, cumming hard, her belly grinding into his groin as if she could swallow the man whole inside her. When she felt his cock surge with climax and heard his steady, even groan fill the air, another series of spasms triggered deep inside her. She writhed against him hard, thinking that the sensation would never end. “Yes, dammit,” she seethed now under her breath. “Gawd yes!”
Finally exhausted, Jillian collapsed against the lumpy mattress too tired for more.
Johnny pulled himself off the bed. “Damn, girl, what is it with you, anyway? You not had sex in year?” he asked. He lit a cigarette in celebration.
She smiled. “No, not exactly. But…” There was no way to explain. “Just feels that way, doesn’t it?”
She was naked with a man she’d met just twelve hours before. And they were fucking—had been fucking for two of that twelve hours—holed up in a shabby nondescript motel somewhere in Upstate New York. That’s as far as they got before the vibrating ride on the Harley, compounded by the instant chemistry, sent them searching for a place to spend the remainder of the night. It was also damned cold that far north this time of year, and Jillian was nearly frozen by the time Johnny finally pulled in front of the Garden Rest motel with its green roof, faded shutters and weedy parking lot.
“Hell, girl, you should have said something,�
� he said, when he saw her shivering. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
He drew her a hot bath and she soaked for nearly an hour, until she was shriveled as a prune and so horny that she was playing with herself in the tub.
“You always do that?” Johnny asked. He’d been peeking in the door.
She’d nearly jumped from her skin, blushing with embarrassment.
“Sorry. You’re just awfully pretty to watch.”
“You bastard!” she shot back at him. “Oops, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry.” She pulled out of the tub and grabbed a towel.
“Hey, don’t worry. I was the one looking.”
They were awkwardly close in the tiny bathroom—she in just a towel, he shirtless. She kept thinking he’d move outside so she could dress. It was his idea to share a room to save expenses. Had he really counted on sex as part of the bargain? It wouldn’t have been all that bad if he had—she’d had far worse sex partners—but at least he could have told her in advance.
“Yes, you were looking.” He was really very sexy. A bare chest, rippling with tight muscles; she could sense his sexual power. A little drizzle of cum juice leaked from her cunt, mingling with the water dripping down between her thighs. When he reached out to her, she seemed to melt from his touch. Moving closer, he leaned in and kissed her lips.
“You always move so fast on a girl?” she whispered.
“Just when I really like what I see.”
“And you’re sure this is not revenge?”
He pulled back. “What? Revenge against Hurst? No. I’d want you even without him in the picture.”
He touched her face lightly, and the side of her wet arm, and then ran his fingers delicately down to her hip. He gently grabbed her and pulled her forward for a first, really genuine kiss. Their mouths opened and their tongues danced a for a time as they got used to the aroma of an unfamiliar body, and the taste and the feel and the way the passion began to build between them.
“Humm,” he quietly hummed as her inhibitions began to recede and he could feel her body respond.
She liked the way he hummed and the way he pulled the towel away so their bare chests met and the liquid on her body fused them together.
He placed his hand along her pubic mound, cupping his fingers against the silky hair, allowing one to snake its way between her labia until it found her clit. He wondered how much of the wetness there was bathwater, and how much was the product of her sexual arousal.
“You’re not gonna get weird if we fuck, are you?” he asked.
“Weird, how so?”
“Indignant, angry, uptight. I don’t want to lose a friend if we make love.”
“We’re already friends?”
“You took off with me on my Harley for two hundred miles. We got to call it something.”
“How about anonymous lovers,” she suggested. “I like the way that sounds.”
“Okay, lover,” he said with a teasing smirk, “let’s live up to the name.”
Johnny abruptly picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he filled her cunt with his pressing erection and they both came in hardly more than a minute.
She marveled at her exhilaration… so different from fucking one of Christopher’s friends. For the first time in a short life with a long sexual history, she was completely free to enjoy herself with a man.
She wanted to explore him, every square inch of his flesh. His eyes, his throat, his armpits, his chest and sides and belly and the fragrant crotch that pulsed before her like a beckoning treasure. She poured herself on his body with kisses as if she’d never been with a man before, finding herself amazed by the way his weighty ball sac felt cupped in her hand, and the way his cock tasted with her cum juice coating the surface, and the way he could touch her gently and still transmit the masculine firmness she loved. She had his penis rising again in just fifteen minutes. When it came time to enter her again, she lay back against the mattress and raised her arms above her head. He got the message that she wanted to be held there; she had a fondness for a little restraint. As he grabbed her hands, she seemed to swoon under him. Sliding his erection into her again, Johnny Gold held himself above her and gazed down.
“Don’t you want me to touch you?” she asked with a sheepish grin.
“No. You look pretty this way with your tits all stretched out. He leaned down and plucked a nipple with his mouth and sucked for a while, then moved to the other where he did the same. He could feel her pussy tighten against his cock the more he drew her sensitive nipples into his mouth and grazed his teeth against that swollen skin. As his organ responded to her clenching pussy, his desire magnified like a cloud of smoke billowing around them. This long slow tease evolved wordlessly, as they kissed, as they stared into each other’s eyes and wondered, as their bodies moved, his freewheeling, hers restrained.
For the first time in her memory, Jillian’s body spiked with sensation and she didn’t come down from that high plateau. Waves of pleasure continued to surge through her belly and downward, as if they’d never stop. She fought against his confining hands for a time, desperate to touch him back, to run her palm across his face and her fingers along the firm muscles of his chest. She wanted to grab his round buns and squeeze them as his cock moved inside her and the spasms increased. The more he moved on her, kissed her, pinched her nipples and fed her lust, the more her longing increased.
Jillian could feel that longing in the way she strained against him, but he remained unyielding, holding her hands in place with an iron grip.
There’d be a time for touching him later, she was forced to conclude and forced to submit.
Her submission finally brought him to a crashing climax, and Jillian to the peak of pleasure. At the end, she never wanted to move again. She wanted to remain there forever and think of nothing but this present bliss.
The spent lovers lay in a tranquil heap for a time, silent and thoughtless as their bodies recovered and their breath returned to normal. She didn’t want to think; that would only bring her mind back to reality and the fact of her unexpected rescue from Christopher’s grasp. If only this would last. If only Johnny Gold were this perfect forever.
Before they slept that night, he burrowed between her legs for oral sex. The instant he began there she was shocked—this was not supposed to happened, not the way it was between men and women. But he lapped at her pretty pink cunt as if he relished every drop of her sexual juices, as if he adored her responsive clit and wanted to see her come again—this time on his mouth and tongue. She’d never had oral sex performed on her, not ever in her sordid past. That thought chilled her to the bone. She didn’t deserve this much kindness, this much attention, this much care. Why? Why would Johnny Gold want to love her this way when he hardly knew her?
In the morning, the sky was as blue as cornflowers, the sun a great yellow beast in the sky. Her hair flew wildly as they took off toward Chicago on his Harley, against the wind, against the tide of her life until then. Every minute was another revelation, another piece of heaven.
The trip was long but rarely tedious. They stopped once between Detroit and the Lake Michigan shoreline, fucking breezily for several hours before they exhaustedly fell asleep. She was getting used to coming with a man inside her. After spending a day of clinging to his back, vibrating against the seat with her crotch pressed tightly to his ass, this was the only logical result. This was heaven, too.
Once in Chicago, she traded for cash the small stash of valuables that she’d taken from the house, save one. That one she’d never sell. The rest yielded enough to buy her another pair of jeans, leather pants, a couple of T-shirts, a leather jacket and boots. She looked in the mirror of the leather shop and realized that Jillian Ingalls she knew had disappeared. She was just plain Jill, now, Johnny Gold’s girl.
They smoked weed with Johnny’s friends in a tiny walk-up near the El, where the sound of the trains laid low in the consciousness like a soothing song that never stops. They fucked there o
n a single mattress tossed in the corner of the living room. Jill was high for three days, too stoned to think of anything but food and sex. Sometime during the visit, she would remember later, Johnny fucked her mouth, his prick driving deep while one of his friends ate her pussy. When they exchanged places she fucked both their dicks simultaneously, a feat she smiled about then, and was in awe of later. Had that really happened?
“Who was that in bed with us in Tonto’s flat?” she asked Johnny when they stopped for dinner at a McDonald’s on their way to St. Louis.
“You don’t remember?”
“No,” she grinned, beginning to blush. Her brown hair was longer now, and was never styled anymore. At first, she let the wind turn it into a tousled mess. Then in Chicago, Johnny bought her a helmet, which only messed it more. Though in this case, ‘messed’ was sexy, ‘messed’ was wild and unruly, ‘messed’ was looking like a trampy flirt when she got off the bike, pulled off the helmet and took her seat in a restaurant, shaking out her hair.
“You have any idea what a sexy babe you’ve become?”
“Babe?” She blushed.
“Yeah, you’re quite the slut, and I mean that in a good way.”
“Thanks. So, who was that at Tonto’s?”
“You have a problem with it?”
“No, not really.”
“That’s good. He paid me enough to buy you the helmet.”
“What?”
“Why not?”
“You sold me?”
“Only sort of.”
Her face paled. “What do you mean, sort of?”
“You’re mad.”
“I don’t know. I wish you’d said something, let it be my decision.”
“Sorry. It just came up and you weren’t in any position to ask at that moment.”
Old angers re-surfaced. She hadn’t felt the bite of it since they left New York.
A day later, the scene had hardly changed. “So, what’s eating you… you’re not still pissed about the guy in Chicago, are you?”
“Yeah, I am.” Jill looked around—it was another seedy restaurant. At least it wasn’t fast food. They might even get a decent hamburger. The booth in the back of the place was reasonably private, and at that hour, only a handful of tables were occupied. Her attention returned to Johnny.
Bounty Hunter Page 6