by M. S. Parker
Chapter 4
DEVON
I tightened my grip on her thick, dark hair, but instead of pulling her head back, I pushed her face forward into the couch cushion. Her scream was muffled as another orgasm ripped through her. I didn’t even slow down as I pounded into her ass. We’d been fucking for over an hour and I was almost at the end. The belt I’d used on her back and ass was wrapped around her wrists. Her skin was red and hot under my hand and I dug my fingers into her hip. She moaned and writhed, pushing back to meet my thrusts.
I’d been right. Angelica had been exactly what I’d needed to take out my frustration. Dark hair and eyes, curves, and a penchant for pain. She’d come twice just from the belt, and then again when I’d gone down on her. I lost count after I’d started fucking her, but I knew it was a lot. She always came a lot, but tonight she was screaming louder than usual, which I took to be a positive sign.
I reached between her legs and shoved the dildo deeper into her pussy and she wailed, her bound hands thumping against the cushion above her head. Her ass tightened around me as she came again and that was it. I groaned as I slammed into her, driving her off her fuck-me heels as spots exploded behind my eyes. I stayed there for only a moment, letting go of her hair and pulling out of her ass so fast that her entire body shuddered. I heard her gasp in air as she raised her head. The gasp turned into a wordless cry when I yanked out the dildo, leaving her completely empty for the first time since I’d arrived.
I disposed of the condom while she rolled herself onto the couch. She held up her bound hands and I raised an eyebrow. She dropped to her knees in front of me and opened her mouth. Briefly, I considered seeing if she could get me hard again, but it was getting late. I leaned down, grabbed her jaw and kissed her, forcing my tongue deep inside her mouth. Only when I was satisfied did I straighten, and then untied her hands.
I looked around for my clothes as she flopped back down onto the couch.
“Wow,” she said. “That was fucking amazing. What drugs did you take tonight?”
“Drugs?” I scowled at her and tried not to think about how I’d been picturing doing all of this to Krissy. “What the fuck? You think I can’t do that without drugs?” I snapped my belt. “Do I need to correct you?”
She spread her legs. She was so wet that we both knew how much the leather would hurt, but we also knew how much she loved it. Instead of giving me a standard response, however, she pulled a cigarette from a nearby pack and lit it. “That sounds like fun, but my husband’s gonna be home in like thirty minutes. You better take off.”
I bristled at the near command. Someone was forgetting her place. Still naked, I walked over to her and took the cigarette from between her lips. I stubbed it out on an ashtray as I put my knee on the couch, right between her legs. I yanked her head back with one hand so that she was looking up at me. The other hand went to the platinum stud in her nipple. I twisted it and she whimpered, arching her back to push her breast into my hand.
“Listen to me,” I hissed. My usually faint accent thickened. “I’m in charge and if I want to stay and fuck you until dawn, that’s what I’m going to do.” I ground my knee against her and she moaned. “And if that means your husband walks in and sees what an unfaithful little slut he’s married to, then so be it.”
I tugged on her piercing and felt her body start to shake. Her hips started to move against my leg as she looked for another climax. I released her and took a step back. Someone was forgetting our agreement, which meant it was time to remind her.
I picked up my clothes and started to get dressed. When I glanced up at her, she had a hand between her legs, rubbing her clit and sliding her fingers in and out of her pussy. I kept my expression disinterested and pulled on my shirt as if that held far more interest for me than her body. Ignoring her was far worse than any insult I could come up with.
I was halfway to the door when she spoke.
“When will I see you again?”
I reached for the doorknob and didn’t even bother to look at her when I answered, “Write me a Christmas card. Maybe I’ll reply in July.”
I didn’t even try to hide my self-satisfied grin as I climbed into my car. All of that pent-up frustration and tension had just ended in one of my best nights. I’d played Angelica like an instrument, every orgasm telling me what I already knew. I’d been good tonight.
Fuck that. I’d been great.
Things were always better when I did them my way. Everyone got what they deserved and no one could touch me.
People getting what they deserved turned my thoughts towards my encounter with Krissy earlier that day. I had to admit, I’d enjoyed her coming into my office and questioning me about firing George. Her face had been flushed, her eyes flashing, and I’d wondered what it would take to tame her.
Not that I was going to. She was off limits to be brought under submission, but just because I wasn’t going to fuck her didn’t mean I couldn’t fuck with her.
I chuckled. Krissy all but accused me of firing George just to get in good with her, but the truth was, he’d had the worst conversion rate of all my agents. Keeping him at a hundred, twenty-five thousand a year plus bonuses – not that he’d really ever made any – hadn’t been prudent. The incident with Krissy had just been a good excuse.
A flare of anger went through me when I thought about what I’d overheard two people saying had happened between George and Krissy. I told myself it was because a part of me wished it was true, that Krissy really had slept with me to get the job. Not because she didn’t deserve the job otherwise, but because at least then I’d have gotten it out of my system and wouldn’t have had such a shit week.
Images flashed through my mind. They were all from what I’d done tonight, but in each one, it was Krissy, not Angelica. Krissy’s mouth I was fucking. Her ass gripping my cock. Her skin reddening as she begged for more.
My cock twitched.
“Fuck,” I muttered. I was getting hard again and I didn’t want to go to bed with a hard-on...again. And I certainly didn’t want to take care of it myself. Aside from the fact that I didn’t need to, I knew that Krissy would play a leading role in any masturbatory fantasy I came up with. I wanted to stop thinking about her, not fantasize about her.
Who could I call?
I glanced up at a neon sign for Chinese food. That sounded good. Mika was nothing like Krissy. For some reason, Mika’s number wasn’t in my phone, so I recited it from memory, then waited for my bluetooth to connect me.
“Hello?” A young woman answered.
“I would like my little Chinese special,” I said.
“Chinese special?” The woman sounded confused.
She must’ve been new, I thought. “Yeah, my usual. This is DeVon.” That should’ve been enough.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. DeVon. This isn’t a Chinese restaurant. You’ve reached–”
Was she kidding me? “I know this isn’t a Chinese restaurant!” I was almost yelling. I wasn’t in the mood to be screwed with. “Just put Mika on the phone. She’s my little Chinese special.”
The woman’s voice turned cold and hard. “You have the wrong number, Mr. DeVon. This is not a restaurant or a bordello. This is Sister Mary Margaret of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart. You can call any time you need prayer or counseling, but for other...services, I would ask that you refrain from calling back.”
Heat flooded my face as I slammed my finger into the bluetooth button on my steering wheel. I pressed the accelerator to the floor and sped past two old women in a rusted Chevy Impala. Great fucking way to end the night.
Chapter 5
KRISSY
“You’re kidding me,” Carrie said incredulously. “He didn’t do that.”
I nodded. “He did. He fired the guy on account of me. George insulted me and that’s what happened.”
George had actually been fired two days ago, but since I’d gotten a call from Carrie saying she was coming in this weekend, I hadn’t bothered to tell her an
y of this over the phone. Aside from the fact that I’d wanted to save it for a face-to-face conversation, I’d also gotten another call right in the middle of her telling me her plans. Carrie’s trip to LA turned out to be perfect timing. I’d gotten one of the apartments I’d applied for, which meant she would arrive just in time to help me move in to my new place. After a busy morning and afternoon emptying the moving van I’d had in a paid lot since it arrived, everything was at least in my new, two-bedroom West Hollywood apartment, though not much of it was unpacked. It was nearly seven by the time Carrie and I finally sat down for a well-deserved meal. That was when I’d spilled the whole story.
Carrie shook her head. “Unless you’d reported him for sexual harassment, which you didn’t, that’s not a legitimate reason to fire him.” She grinned at me. “Sorry, not that you’re not special.”
I rolled my eyes and tried not to let Carrie see how much I’d missed this, sitting down and talking to her. “Well, he said it was also because of some previous lawsuit.” I put down my near-empty glass. “Fuck it. I’m tired of talking about DeVon and my job. Come on.” I stood. “Let’s go out and see what the Hollywood nightlife has to offer in this part of the city.”
I managed to find one of my favorite dresses, the kind that looked painted on and was guaranteed to get me laid. Carrie had brought clubbing clothes and while she’d definitely loosened up since she’d started dating Gavin, there was almost twice as much fabric to her outfit as there was to mine. Still, I had to admit that she looked hot. Being in love agreed with her.
All eyes were on us as we made our way through one of Hollywood’s hottest clubs. We weren’t famous, but we were gorgeous and running Club Privé had certainly taught Carrie how to work a room. We were on our third round of drinks when I decided I wanted to dance. Carrie excused herself to the restroom and I made my way onto the dance floor.
An arm slid around my waist, turning me around so that I was looking directly at the very muscular chest of one of the hottest guys I’d seen so far since I’d arrived in this town. Thick dark hair and eyes, both of which could’ve been brown or black. His shirt was fitted and his pants rode that line of being too tight, but both showed off his considerable assets. He looked younger than me, but he’d gotten in, so I was counting on him being at least twenty-one.
We didn’t speak as we danced together, grinding our bodies against each other until I could feel how hard he was. He pulled me closer, his hands on my ass, and leaned down so that he could speak in my ear.
“You know where you want to go tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I do?”
“Yeah,” he said with a cocky grin. “Home with me.”
I laughed. He actually thought he’d get to be in charge. How cute. “I was actually hoping you’d come home with me.”
“Krissy.” A hand on my arm reminded me that I hadn’t come alone.
The guy’s eyes lit up as his gaze raked over Carrie. “Oh, a threesome. I can get into that.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, hot stuff. I’m just going to steal my friend for a second here.”
I let her pull me away from the dance floor and felt the guy’s eyes on me. I put a little extra sway into my hips. I was pleasantly buzzed and enjoying myself. I’d almost forgotten how much I loved going out with friends.
“I hate to spoil the party,” Carrie said. “But I’m exhausted. Jet lag.”
Suddenly, I realized. She was still on East Coast time and it was, I glanced at my watch, almost five in New York.
I nodded. “Give me a minute.” I walked back onto the dance floor and cut between the guy I’d been dancing with and a girl who’d tried to take my spot. I ignored the girl’s protest and stuck my hand in the guy’s pocket. His eyes widened as I fished around more than necessary before I pulled out his phone. I dialed my number from his phone, then handed it back to him.
“I’ll call you,” I said as I sauntered away, confident that his eyes were glued to my ass. As I went to save his number, I realized that I didn’t know his name. I shrugged. That wasn’t really a problem. I didn’t usually scream a guy’s name when we fucked. I saved the number under ‘Club Hottie’ and put my phone back into my purse.
Carrie grinned at me as we left the club, but I waited until we were out in the comparative silence before I asked her what she thought was so funny.
“You,” she said. “New city, new time zone, same Krissy.” She linked her arm through mine as we started to walk towards my apartment. “I’d been worried that moving here might change you.”
I grimaced as my heels pinched my feet. Another way LA and New York were different: cabs. Back East, there were always cabs around the clubs, ready to take home inebriated partiers. Here, they were few and far between. I paused and pulled off my heels. That, at least, was a positive. I could walk in my bare feet at two in the morning during the first weeks of autumn and my feet weren’t even chilly.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said suddenly. “I mean, I was already missing you, but now that you’ve been here, when you leave, it’s going to be so much worse.”
Carrie squeezed my arm. “I’ve missed you, too, but I promise that I’ll keep coming to visit as often as I can.”
“Definitely a perk of being your own boss,” I said. “Or sleeping with the boss.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Gavin’s not my boss.” She gave me a mischievous look. “And I’m not the one whose boss wants her.”
I shook my head. “DeVon doesn’t want me. He just likes fucking with people.”
Carrie didn’t argue, but I could see on her face that she didn’t agree with me. Instead, she flagged down the only cab we’d seen so far. The ride back to my apartment was quiet, but it wasn’t a bad kind of quiet. For the first time since I’d moved out here, I felt comfortable. When we got back to my new place, we both kicked off our shoes and headed for my bedroom. The only things that were set up were my bed, a small kitchen table with two matching chairs and a love seat that was full of boxes. It didn’t really look like home, but with Carrie there, it kinda felt like it.
We dropped onto the bare mattress. I didn’t even know where my sheets or blankets were, but it was warm enough that it didn’t matter. Carrie rolled onto her side, but I stayed on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I’d missed this. My old life had been so uncomplicated. Go to work. Go out with friends. Hook up with guys. Repeat.
“I think I should come home.” It was the first time I’d actually spoken the words out loud. I felt the bed dip as she turned to face me, but I didn’t look at her. “I mean, Mimi would give me my old job back, or I could just find another one.”
“Even though I would love to have you back in New York, I don’t think you should give up.” Carrie’s voice was soft. “You really wanted this. Paradise compared to boring divorce law. And I know you love it here, no matter how tough it can be.”
She was right and I knew it.
“Just give yourself some time. You’re going to be homesick.”
“I wasn’t when I moved from Chicago to New York,” I countered.
“You wanted out of Chicago,” she reminded me. “And you have family in New York.”
She was right, again. Technically, my biological family was in Chicago, but my real family was Carrie and Leslie and Dena. I didn’t have anyone like that here. I was a people person, always had been, and there wasn’t anyone in LA worth staying for.
The image of DeVon popped into my head and I tried to push it away. I just needed time and I’d make friends, meet new people. This place could become home. I tried to hold onto that thought until I fell asleep, but DeVon kept forcing his way back in. Finally, I gave up and let myself think about him until I finally went under.
Chapter 6
KRISSY
It was harder not to cry when I dropped Carrie off at LAX than I’d thought it’d be. Tears were burning my eyes but I kept reminding myself of a trick my drama teacher had taught me when it came
to controlling my emotions and I managed to keep them back. As I watched her walk away, I was struck with the nearly overwhelming desire to buy a ticket and board with her, leave all of this behind and go home.
New York wasn’t home, I told myself firmly. Not anymore. I had to stop thinking that way if I was going to give LA a fair shot. And Carrie had been right. I needed to give this a chance. It had been challenging, but nothing I hadn’t been able to handle. Just because something was tough didn’t mean I should give up. If I gave up and returned to New York just because it was hard, I’d never forgive myself. My parents would use it as justification for their belief that I couldn’t hack it on my own. No. My resolve solidified. Sure, there were some things about LA that I didn’t like, but I’d also already gotten to experience things that I never could’ve in New York.