Breaking Autumn: A Bad Boy Stuntman Romance

by Jackson Kane

  We moaned in unison when she wrapped her hand around my cock

  “I got you.” Autumn smiled triumphantly.

  “For now,” I growled into her mouth. The smoldering look I gave her melted her core like a sliver of butter over a scalding, juicy steak. “Soon enough I’m going to break you in half.”

  “Fuck,” Autumn swore in a lusty, heavy haze. She was so turned on I could feel the quiver through her palm as she squeezed my cock with all her strength.

  “Show me what you’re made of,” I demanded, flexing my cock against her hand, daring her to go even harder.

  I tucked my fingers into her waist band and jerked everything down to her knees. The motion laid her back fully onto the long bench seat. Her sultry smile dissolved into famished hunger as she crunched forward and took my cock into her hot, eager mouth.

  A guttural surge escaped me as she sucked and stroked.

  Kneeling over her chest, I wet my fingers in my mouth then pressed down over her pussy, clutching her lips and clit.

  The renovated Plymouth sputtered beneath us then continued chugging on as if trying to remind me how bad an idea all this was, but it was too late for that.

  I no longer gave a fuck about what this might do to our working relationship or how it would affect my already tarnished deal with Lionhouse. All I cared about was her lips and tongue working my throbbing cock and how spongy, wet, and perfect her tight pussy felt against my fingers. It made thinking, and even breathing, next to impossible. Slipping two fingers deep inside of her awoke a primal urge in me to fuck her senseless. It took everything I had not to destroy her pussy right then.

  Autumn bucked against my hand and whined for more, but I wanted to make this last. We were just getting started. I was going to fuck her so hard and long that for the next few days even the slight pressure of slipping on a pair of panties would make her think of me.

  With her mouth full of my hard cock, she stared her bright, chestnut eyes directly into mine.

  Fuck!

  How the hell had I been able to resist this so long?

  Glossy with sweat from the heat, she writhed naked beneath me. It didn’t dilute the supple softness of her beauty, but the definition in her arms and faint lines of her abs were making me crazy. I gritted my teeth and snapped my eyes shut. Looking at her any longer would’ve been too much for me, I’d have came hard and I didn’t want that just yet.

  I zoned into her completely, letting my fingers curl inside her, feeling the thrumming rhythm of her body. Her pussy was soaked and begged for more. Her stomach tightened, her breathing sped up and became labored until—with an audible smack that brought me to the cusp of climax—she pulled me out of her mouth and gasped in air.

  “Please,” she cried. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

  I opened my eyes to see her head pulled back, back arched hard, ass tucked and every muscle in her body contract. She held my cock like a handle to push her crushing pussy that much harder into my teasing fingers.

  “Yes!” she screamed, climaxing against my pulsing, beckoning fingers loud enough to drown out the roaring engine.

  Watching her come so hard was all I needed. The spasms up her body jerked her tight hand back and forth across the head of my thick cock. I had to slam a hand down on the dash to keep myself from buckling, before exploding hot, sticky cum all over her tits. Autumn jolted, then her face quickly lit up in a wicked smile.

  “That is so hot,” she moaned, letting her back relax down on the seat. Breathing heavily and biting the corner of her lip she slowly stroked more deliberately, milking every last drop out of me. With her other hand she rubbed my cum into her tits, and squeezed. “I always wondered what that would feel like.”

  “It feels—” I laid over her, pushing our sweaty, filthy bodies into the seat that much harder, bit her ear, then kissed her. Pressing my thumb into her clit I finished the sentence as a gravelly whisper in her ear. “Incredible.”

  “You’d better be careful,” she moaned with that wicked, satisfied smile lingering across her lips. “Word gets out that this is what your training is like, you’re going to have a lot of horny clients clamoring to your door.”

  “Let’s hope word doesn’t get out then.” My eyes narrowed in a heavy stare that dripped sex and promises. I began rubbing her slick clit just enough to show her that training tonight was far from over. “It looks like I already have my hands full with you.”

  Autumn exhaled, her eyes flashing like a second serving of dessert was placed on her plate.

  “Get ready for a long night.” I licked that surprised, thirsty smile from her lips. There was no hope for me now. I craved Autumn the same way some people did with chocolate, only so much worse. The way she tasted burrowed into my soul, it’d be with me the rest of my life. “We have so much work to do.”

  Autumn giggled as I licked up the middle of her throat and dove back into her collarbone. I loved everything about her, her small tits, beauty marks and crooked smile. Too many dangerous things breezed past my heart as I kissed her, each one feeling less and less impossible.

  What if…

  “Dante?” Autumn asked, her tone drifting as if she was waking up from a dream and slept through her alarm. She placed her hand over mine, stopping me from rubbing her pussy.

  Oh you think I’m only letting you get away with one orgasm? You are sorely mistake—

  “Are those headlights?” Worry had crept into her tone. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  Chapter 22

  Autumn

  The desert twilight was as beautiful as it was haunting.

  The sun had just dipped below the distant mountains, giving the landscape a sharp contrast of soft pastel hues and long eerie shadows. Tonight more so than every other night; the cloudy yellow-red sky looked extra fiery. I shivered against the surprising chill in the air when Dante opened the door.

  It felt like the series of ominous headlights bobbing down the dirt road toward us brought with it an abrupt change in the seasons. The unusually hot fall was officially over.

  Ahead of us was only a harsh, unforgiving winter.

  “Do you remember what I taught you about driving a manual?” Dante quickly fastened his pants and ran over to a small table covered in framed pictures of his family.

  “Yeah, I guess?” Everything to do with working the stick and clutch was fresh, but frustratingly hazy. I was pretty sure I remembered all the steps. Whether I could do it successfully or not was anyone’s guess. I cleaned myself off with his discarded shirt and dressed as fast as I could. A pit was forming in my stomach at his weirdly anxious demeanor.

  With one sweeping arm Dante cleared off the table and pulled a black, plastic gun case out from beneath the floor-length tablecloth. I jolted from the glass-encased memories shattering all across the concrete floor.

  There was something heartbreaking about seeing them so easily discarded.

  “Shit!” When Dante realized all the guns were still on the table up in the gym he violently slammed his fist down, then threw the empty case across the room. Dante froze, lost in thought. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as his eyes darted around the room. Finally, he dashed over to a large warning-sticker-covered, metal cabinet bolted into the wall.

  “What’s going on?” I walked toward him. He had the cabinet open and was hurriedly unscrewing the tops on all the various containers of liquids that lined the shelves. “You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

  “Get back in the car!” Dante shouted at me with dark eyes that were as wild as a cornered animal.

  His frantic urgency startled me back a step, but it was what I saw in his eyes that made me realize that something was very, very wrong.

  Fear.

  I didn’t think anything on earth could possibly rattle a man like Dante Marks.

  Who were these people?

  “Stay quiet and keep your head down.” He snapped sharply, then was on me a second later roughly moving me back into the
still running Plymouth. Looking past me at the rapidly approaching vehicles, he continued in a much quieter tone, but with the same intensity, “The controls are mostly the same as the Ford you practiced in, only much older. When things get bad you need to drive out of here as fast as you can. If you see headlights behind you don’t stop until you reach a police station.”

  “When things get bad?” I protested. Now I was terrified. “What do you mean? What is all this—”

  “Whatever happens DO. NOT. STOP.” Dante repeated firmly through a scowl. He slammed the car door between us and paused a moment to give me a hard look through the window. Of the torrent of emotions that crossed Dante’s face, surprise wasn’t among them.

  I put a hand on the glass touching the spot where his hand would’ve been had the window not divided us. I had so many questions that I knew would never get answers. What’s going on in your mind, Dante? What is all this? I only had time to ask the most important one. “Please tell me we’re going to be alright?”

  Dante averted his eyes and said nothing.

  His lips pulled into a straight, white slash across his suddenly cold and unreadable expression. Glancing up at me one last time before pulling his hand away from mine, I no longer saw Dante. His deep, mysterious eyes had turned cruel. A different person stared back at me; a hard and dangerous stranger whose past had finally caught up with him. And the look on his face was unmistakable.

  You were wrong, they said. It’s not OK and never will be.

  Then like a man walking out to meet his firing squad, Dante walked down the length of the car to stand protectively in front of the open garage door. With everything his father ever built at his back, Dante defiantly faced those that had just arrived.

  Tentatively I poked my head up just enough to see out of the driver’s side window. I got a decent look at the sedan, and five motorcycles that came to a stop in front of Dante. One after the other they blasted their high beams, causing Dante to squint against the aggressive light. They definitely weren’t the police and they were too rugged to be anyone from production.

  Who else could possibly worry Dante?

  “There he is!” Came a gravely, yet light voice from the opening passenger-side car door. Leaving the door wide open, the broad male form rounded the car to step in front of one of the headlights. It gave his already imposing silhouette something of a full body halo and a sense otherworldly dread. “What’s with the grave look? Shit, son! Family reunions are supposed to be fucking joyous occasions.”

  I quickly adjusted the rearview mirror so I could still see most of what was going on while crouched down on the seat. Between the dwindling sunlight and the high beams from the vehicles, couldn’t make out most of the man’s features, aside from him being clean shaven and having short, slicked back hair. I could tell by his voice, outline and walk that he was in his mid-to-late forties and at least half a foot taller than Dante. He might not have been as beefy as Dante, but it was hard to tell in his jacket.

  Either way though the guy was enormous!

  “Where’s the rest of the family, Mitch?” Dante scoffed, pointing at the much younger bikers. “I don’t recognize any of these toddlers. Where’s Craig, Jim and Toph? And I don’t see Melissa anywhere”

  “I am the family.” Mitch’s jovial voice deepened, growing more severe by the syllable. He held an old revolver in his and took several menacing steps toward Dante. “What can I say? They all went their separate ways.”

  “Like me?” Dante asked. Surprisingly his fists weren’t clenched. The franticness that consumed Dante had evaporated like gasoline on hot pavement. I still couldn’t get a read on Dante, and that unsettled me even more. It was like he reverted back to some hidden personality he had before I met him.

  “Not like you.” Mitch flashed Dante a disdainful look, then fished a handful of bullets out of his pocket and casually started loading the gun. The bullets entered the cylinder and rotated with a lifetime’s worth of practiced ease and the regular, steady click of a countdown timer. “But then again, you were always special.

  “You were always my favorite son.” With a flick of his wrist, Mitch locked the chamber into the now fully loaded gun, then gave it a spin. “How I have missed you, Jack.”

  Jack? Who was this guy and why was he calling Dante Jack? What the hell was going on?

  “How’d you find me?” Dante was utterly unimpressed by the show.

  I wasn’t nearly as coolheaded. I curled up in the fetal position on the seat and was practically shitting myself over seeing the gun. It was one thing to practice safely at a firing range, but to have some stranger waving one around was terrifying.

  The power of a gun was so viscerally recent that I shivered at the thought of what a bullet could actually do to a person—what it could do to us!

  “Oh a little birdie sent me a link of you going all action hero with that actress girl. Once I figured out that you were the son of the Crash Teller, finding you was a piece of double key lime pie. You should’ve told me. I’d have loved an autograph. I’m a big fan.”

  “Got a garage full of them.”

  “I can see that.” Mitch leaned to the side to get a better look. He whistled excitedly as he recognized various event posters and rattled off the makes and models of the motorcycles that were used in some high-profile stunts. “Goddamn, that’s quite the slice of Americana you got there. Hard to believe you left all this just to come play with us. You add your own trinkets to that room since you been back, stuntman?”

  “A few.” Dante shrugged, cocking his head toward the garage. “I’d ask if you’d like a tour, but you were never the sentimental type.”

  “All this time…” Mitch doubled over laughing in disbelief. “Hiding right in front of our fucking noses. We’ve been looking for you and we never bothered to check the goddamn television. Ken showed me your IMDB page before we came out here. I’ve actually seen a lot of the movies you were in and had no idea, can you believe that shit?”

  “You always were a ballsy mother fucker, Jack.” Mitch paused, incredulity seeped into his thick voice. “I guess it’s not Jack, is it, Dante Marks? Or is it Dante Teller? You were my right hand man for longer than I can remember and I didn’t know the first damn thing about you. I’m not too proud to admit that that hurts a bit.” Mitch shook his head, looking genuinely wounded. “Shit, son, does anyone know who the fuck you really are?”

  God help me if I had anything in common with that psychopath, but I was wondering the same thing.

  This was all so difficult to wrap my head around. We’d shared so much with each other. Over these past few weeks I felt like I was starting to get to know the real Dante, but here I was sitting as quiet as possible, hiding from what was obviously some kind of gang. I felt gross even thinking it, but Mitch was right.

  Who was Dante, really?

  “I didn’t trust you for years. You really think I was stupid enough to tell you my real name back then?”

  “No. And that’s what I liked about you, you clever sonofabitch. You always knew how to play the long con.” Mitch paced around Dante in a wide arc, studying him.

  The long con? Was Dante some kind of con man? That didn’t feel right. There had to be something else to this.

  “So stuntman, how much did you tell your lady friend about us?” Mitch came full circle and stopped.

  Lady friend? Was he talking about me?

  I froze. How did they know I was here? Did they see me run into the car?

  “Knowing you, probably not much if anything at all.” Mitch frowned. “Turns out you’re quite the secretive bastard.”

  “She’s a client. I’m just getting her to where the studio needs her to be.”

  “The studio needs you to fuck her in the back of a vintage nineteen-thirty-eight?” Mitch’s eyes flicked down Dante’s shirtless body. “Your hotdog stand’s open for business.”

  “The car’s a nineteen-thirty-seven.” Dante zipped his pants.

  “She in love wi
th you yet?”

  “They all think they are.” The dismissive tone in which Dante said that struck a somber chord in me. “At least for a little while.”

  Don’t think the worst of him, I reminded myself. This was a crazy situation; Dante was probably doing what he thought he needed to just to keep us both safe.

  “Ha! Aint that the truth!” Mitch clasped Dante on the shoulder and laughed uproariously. A darkness flickered across his mirthful demeanor, then like a lightening strike. Mitch backhanded Dante with the gun, dropping him to a knee.

  “No!” I screamed, drawing Mitch’s sharp, serious gaze directly into the rearview mirror I was watching them through.

  “I deserved that,” Dante cleared his throat, spitting out a disgusting, fleshy, red wad of blood.

  “Who took you in when you had nowhere to go? I did. I fucking taught you everything you know. I made you into a fucking man!” Mitch screamed down at Dante, stabbing his gun into Dante’s shoulder, head and back. He looked completely unhinged. It was horrible to watch. “Then all of a sudden you abandon us, abandon me? In the middle of a job? I ought to put you in the fucking ground right fucking now!”

  “I can’t make you rich if I’m dead.” Unconcerned about being shot, Dante batted Mitch’s gun away, then stood back up. Raising one hand up to show that he was unarmed Dante slowly pulled the wallet out of his back pocket. He handed a black metal card to Mitch and dropped everything else. “This will make you rich.”

  What game was he playing? Run! Get out of there! It took everything from me not to close my eyes and scream.

  “Hmm.” Mitch snatched the card away and flipped it over in his hands. He clicked his tongue, obviously irritated with his own curiosity. He thumbed the gun’s firing hammer back and forth between the ready and resting position while he considered Dante’s offer. “My thumb’s getting awfully tired. You going to tell me what this is?”

  “The longest con in history.” Dante spoke with absolute conviction. He didn’t take an offensive stance or try to protect himself from another hit. He simply waited until he had Mitch’s undivided attention. “That key card will get you into the financial records mainframe at Lionhouse Studios. With that card, and the CEO, the billion—with a capital B—dollar payout I have planned would make that San Francisco job you blundered a little while back like chump change.”