by Nicole Fox
Alas, like I said, I'd been living on trashy romance fiction for months. With a life like mine, spent always on the run, you can't exactly bother to get close to anyone. With the jobs I was working and the bars I could afford, I didn't exactly get the pick of the litter on who walked through the door either. It had been awhile, I realized. Too bad he was like all the rest who passed through here and had somewhere, anywhere, else to be.
Chapter Two
Kort
From the description Milo had given me when he first found her, that was definitely Lydia Banks waiting on me. Long blonde hair, legs you wanted to kiss, and the deepest blue eyes any man had ever fallen into. She was thin but still curvy, and she could move those hips when she wanted to.
Had to give credit where credit was due. Joey Banks popped out one beautiful woman when he had her. Fiery, too, I could tell. Just the way she looked at me made me want to tear her clothes off and see how high up those legs really went. I wondered mindlessly about what her nails would feel like as they scratched up and down my back, and whether she'd mind if I pulled on that pony tail of hers. I had a feeling she wouldn't.
Honestly, I was impressed, too. Not only was she gorgeous, and sassy, but she'd been on the run for a while. Not everyone had the determination to go underground like she had for the last five years. Cutting yourself off from family was one thing, but friends too? Most people wanted a life, or got tired of the run. Not Lydia that much was for sure. This girl had an iron will inside her, one I wouldn't have to take lightly.
And the way she’d flirted with me while taking my order? Milo hadn't mentioned how much she liked bad boys... He'd had to force her out of the place he'd caught her in, drag her all the way back to his car and stuff her away before she could make a run for it. She finally managed to which was how Milo had gotten in trouble with her daddy in the first place: Joey Banks.
Milo's death still fucked me up inside, especially with the way things had gone down. Word was, Joey had just snapped when Milo told him the bad news and beat my friend to death with his fists. Just his fists. They had to pull the drugged out, crazed asshole off my buddy's bloody corpse, even keep him from going back for a second round on poor Milo's face.
Milo’d been so close, too, to getting inside the operation like our boss wanted him to. Bringing Lydia home would have nearly set him for life, put him in a real position to start moving up through our organization. If he'd managed to deliver the Warehouse, the middle-man clearing house of the region, to our boss, he would have been in the clear. He'd have been a prince among men, a king among princes.
Too bad Lydia brought him down that way. Not that she meant to, of course. She had no idea what was going to happen to Milo, just like Milo didn't have a fucking clue either. If he had, he probably wouldn't have gone back to Joey empty handed. He would have just cut and run and told him to find another way in.
I reached down, took a sip of my coffee, and watched as Lydia started up her side work.
She glanced back at me as she brushed a stray blonde hair back behind her ear, a light smile on her lips. Something about that smile reminded me of a shark. Not in a scary way, or anything. But something about a shark's smile always said, “I'm going to eat you for lunch.”
Of course, given a choice between Jaws or Lydia, I'd take Lydia any day of the week.
I had to remember that sweet body, or that inviting smile, of hers, wasn't what I was here for. I was here for some coffee and a burger, then to follow her back to her place.
I'd make the grab tonight when she got home from her shift, before she got suspicious and started to go on the move again. Shove her in the car, then head for the Warehouse before anyone got alerted and called the cops for an abduction. I hated to drag her back to her psycho dad, but if I didn't have Lydia I didn't have shit. No way Joey or his men were letting me through the doors of that fortress without some sort of offering to pave my way forward.
And, if I couldn't make it through the doors and past all the guns surrounding that place like a ring of steel, then there was no way in hell I was going to get to Joey Banks.
I had in my mind the different ways that motherfucker was going to pay. One way or another, I was going to get my pound of flesh from his old psycho hide before I delivered him over to the boss. That was the promise I'd made over poor Milo's grave, and it was the promise I meant to keep.
All I had to do was make sure I didn't spook the girl. She was like a deer in the forest, and I had to approach this carefully. I'd stay, I'd finish my burger, then I'd keep an eye on her from afar. No more, no less.
Chapter Three
Lydia
A few minutes after I'd put the order in, the stranger got up and headed to the restroom. I still hadn't been able to take my eyes off him, even while I was refilling the saltshakers and cutting my lemons. I'd noticed, too, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off me.
I heard the table at the booth move a little and glanced back to watch him go to the bathroom, his great ass moving perfectly in his tight jeans as he went. Maybe it was the steamy, trashy book I'd just been reading, or the fact I’d been in a long dry spell, or maybe it was just extreme boredom, but I took off my little half apron and got up to follow him, even when all my instincts were ringing out a warning.
I'd seen the way he looked at me, had felt the connection we had, even if it was just physical, a momentary and tenuous moment between strangers. I knew he was leaving right after this, but I didn't give a shit. I needed something more than what my books had been giving me, something to shake up the ennui of life on the run. I disappeared around the corner from the dining area and propped myself up right in front of the men's restroom.
A few moments later I heard the flush and then the faucet running. He dried his hands and came back out and stopped when he saw me. His eyes narrowed as he looked up and down the hall.
I looked up at him and fluttered my long lashes as I took a step closer to him. “You said you were just passing through, and had an appointment to make in LA. I was wondering if you might be alright with a slight delay?”
“You and me, huh?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrows a little, gave him a smile and bit my lip. “Two strangers? You barely even know my name? My shift ends soon, and I could use a little company. What do you think of that?”
He took a deep breath and looked up and down the hall. He took a step closer to me, his unexpected closeness pushing me back in surprise. Suddenly, I could smell him, a warm, musky smell like cedar and incense. Manliness, and a touch of hard sweat. “Look,” he growled as slammed a palm into the wall beside my head, “I don't know who you think I am, but I don't think a girl like you should get involved with a guy like me.”
I gasped a little at his sudden intensity, even felt myself get a little excited at the rush of adrenaline. I glanced up at his eyes, then back down to his lips, then returned to his eyes. “You have no idea what kind of girl I am,” I said as he reached forward and clutched at his crotch through his jeans, lightly grabbing his package as I bit my lower lip again and gave him a wicked smile.
His nostrils flared as I groped him. I could feel him beginning to harden in my hand. He reached down and grabbed my arm that was cupping him. His fingers hurt as they dug into me, but some twisted part of me begged for more. I liked it rough sometimes, and there was something rough about him that told me he had a similar taste.
“I could take you right now, right here,” he whispered low and menacingly, his words threatening in any other context as he leaned close enough to my face that I could feel his hot breath. “What would you think of that, Amy? You want me to fuck you right here, huh, so your boss can hear you screaming my name?”
I was feeling a little turned on by all this, especially when I felt his grip on my arm intensify. And, from the way he was filling my hand, he was getting pretty excited by the whole thing too.
“I don't know your name,” I replied as I began to slowly stroke his cock through his jeans. �
�Remember?”
He closed his eyes as I moved my long fingers up and down his shaft, as I thumbed over the head through the jeans. I could feel his pre-cum soaking through his pants, and I could tell how excited he was as he let out a little sigh.
“Storeroom,” he growled, pulling me by the arm to the little storeroom at the end of the hall where we kept all the maintenance products. He pulled open the door and shoved me inside. I flipped the light on, wanting to see this hunk I'd managed to land on such short notice. Stacks of can liners and toilet bowl cleaning fluid and rolls of paper towels glared down at us from all side in the cramped confines of the room.
It all seemed so dirty, so slutty, and I loved it. I hadn't felt like this about a guy in ages, and I couldn't wait for his body to be pressed against mine. Our hands and mouths were on each other in a flash, his big, callused hands already on my ass and lower back, mine already beneath his tight shirt as I yanked back from the forceful kiss, pulling it up to show me his washboard abs. Tattoos covered his torso, but one in particular stood out to me. A skull wreathed in flames, with a dagger through it. It didn't register at first and I just kept going, attaching my lips to his nipple, grinning as he slapped my denim-clad ass hard and grabbed a tight handful of it.
He grabbed me by my long ponytail and forced my lips back to his, shoved his tongue into my mouth. I groaned in pleasure as he invaded my mouth, his tongue swirling over mine. I closed my lips around him, sucking his tongue tightly, nipping him as he pulled away.
He pulled my shirt up and over my head, his hand already on my breasts, roughly massaging me through my bra. I pushed myself into him as we continued to kiss.
My panties were drenched. I wanted to feel his lips around my hard nipples, wanted to feel his cock inside me. I needed to, I realized, as I reached forward and stroked his cock through his jeans with one hand, and deftly slipped unsnapped my bra from behind with the other.
His hand immediately came up to my breasts again, crushing them in his firm hand. When I groaned appreciatively at his manhandling of me, he tweaked my nipple hard, producing a sharp cry into his mouth, and a twinge of fire between my legs. He reached down to the top of my jeans and unsnapped the top.
I raked my nails up and down his sides and back with one hand, and continued to stroke him with the other. I didn't want him too excited, though – I wanted this to last as long as it could.
“Turn around,” he growled as he grabbed me by the shoulders and flipped me around so I was facing the metal racks on one side of the wall. He pressed himself against my back and, his arms encircling me as he kissed my neck and shoulders. I could feel his glorious manhood pressing into my lower back, and I knew, right then, how badly I wanted this man to fuck me, to put his hands all over me. His palm slipped down to my waistband again and unzipped the front of my jeans. Together we shimmed them and my jeans down my hips, down to my knees.
“Bend over, slut,” he groaned in my ear, a ragged edge to his voice as I felt him fumbling with his belt and jeans, desperate to get them off.
“Anything you say,” I cooed as I bent forward, bracing myself on one of the shelves full of cleaning supplies. I pushed back into him with my ass, wiggling it enticingly.
He slipped a hand down between us, stroked it over my gushing sex. He pushed his finger into me, producing a loud, guttural groan from my lips. “You want this bad, don't you?” he taunted as he pulled his finger out and traced up me, my lips parting around him.
“What gave you that idea?” I whimpered as I pushed my hips back onto his hand, encouraging him as I looked back over my shoulder.
He shimmied his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips, his cock springing into view. A solid eight inches balanced in midair, as big around as my wrist, and I moaned again in anticipation. He grabbed himself and pointed his purple crown right at me like it knew right where it was going.
I bit my lower lip, groaning as I urged him on. He pushed forward, his cock spearing me. He didn't ease himself in, he just plunged into my dripping slit, groaning himself as I gripped him tight with my greedy lips.
My eyes rolled back in my head at the intensity of the sudden fullness. “Fuck!”
He reached up and grabbed my tightly bound pony tail, yanked my head back around so I was facing away from him. He pulled tight on my hair, pulling my head back as he started to slam his hips into me.
I'd never felt anything like him before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moaned as I pushed back into each thrust, the zipper teeth of his jeans grasping at the back of my thighs, both edges of his belt slapping against my skin. “Oh God,” I cried out. “Fuck me, please.”
He gave my pony tail another tug as he kept fucking me. I must have been too loud for him because he dropped my hair and clamped his hand down hard over my mouth. I screamed silently into his palm, tasted my own moisture on his skin. There's nothing quite like a guy who knows what he wants, even if it's for you to shut the hell up. I pushed back harder onto his cock, gyrating myself so that I could get all the good spots as he continued to move against my ass.
He jack-hammered into me, one hand gripping my hip hard enough to leave bruises from his fingertips. Every stroke he laid into me seemed to hit my g-spot, and his balls slapped my clit with each swing, driving me toward a deeper ecstasy.
I stopped moving for a moment, seizing as my whole body shook around his cock, milking him with my spasming insides. I screamed out triumphantly around his hand, licking his palm. He moved his hand, but figured out a better way to keep me occupied. He stuffed his finger in my mouth, pushing them in so I was forced to gag and suck on them as he kept fucking me from behind. He was close, I could tell, from the way he kept pounding into me, his pace becoming rapid.
I groaned in delight as another orgasm rocked me, the dirtiness of what we were doing have its desired effect. I shook hard on his length, my whole world dissolving as I sucked on the fingers shoved into my mouth and clung desperately to the metal shelves in front of me.
“Where do you want it?” he groaned after a moment, popping his fingers from my mouth.
“Inside me,” I gasped. “Fuck, I want to feel you cum inside me.”
“Then put a hand over your own mouth,” he barked lowly as he grabbed hold of my hips with both hands. He started to pound into me hard, the shelving unit I was clinging onto thundering and shaking as he gave it to me the only way he knew how.
I clapped a hand over my mouth and screamed, a final orgasm wracking my body.
Behind me he screamed too, his words inarticulate as he rammed into me, his cock stroking in and out. I felt him swell, felt him explode inside me, filling my insides. I didn't care that I didn't know his name, and I didn't care that I never would. I hadn't felt like this in months, years even, and everything came crashing down around me.
He lurched forward, grabbed a handful of my tit, his cock still pumping into me, his groans still low and throaty. Hunched over, he pulled me up till he was laid across my naked back, his hips still humping into me. He growled again, his words almost completely inarticulate in my ear.
As I thrust back onto his softening rod, I realized something. He hadn't just been moaning and groaning as he came. He'd been moaning words.
“Oh fuck,” he repeated, his hips finally coming to a slow, easy, sweaty stop.
I realized then, that this time around, he'd dropped the third word. That third word had been my name: Lydia.
Panic overcame me. I'd had to run before, in the past, had to drop everything and flee if it meant surviving. I'd had to do this plenty of times in the last five years. Of course, I'd never had to fuck and run. Not like this, at least. Old habits die hard, and instincts kick in fast. The easiest way to get out of this, I knew, was to play it like I hadn't heard him mutter my name.
“That good enough for you?” he asked, slapping my haunch as he licked lips, smacking them a little in satisfaction. His cock, almost completely deflated now, slid from me, and retreated and began to pull his pants back up.
I licked my own lips as I turned around and pulled up my own panties and jeans. “Wonderful.”
“Guess I should tell you my-”
I cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Nope,” I said slyly. “Knowing your name would spoil half the fun, handsome,” I continued as I put my arms around his neck and pressed my naked chest into his shirt.
He wrapped his arms around me and leaned down, kissing me one last time. “Too bad I know your name . . . Amy,” he said after our goodbye kiss, and flicked at the name tag on my shirt. Good cover, thought. But I’d already heard him mention my real name.
“Oh well,” I replied, pulling back from him and reaching down to grab my bra and shirt. “Just remember to leave a good tip.”
“Thought I gave you my best one already,” he joked.
“It was pretty good,” I admitted as I pulled my clothes back on. “But even one that nice doesn't pay the rent. Now, you give me a second so my boss doesn't get suspicious, okay? Buck probably wouldn't approve of me fucking patrons in his store room.”