The heat was a physical enemy in the Mojave desert. It was 88 degrees, and every mile I drove felt like another layer of my life burning away. My destination was a cheap motel on the outskirts of Las Vegas; my starting line was a thousand miles away, where a diamond ring sat accusingly on a linen tablecloth and a very powerful fiancé was currently realizing I was gone. I could still hear the faint echo of wedding bells somewhere behind me, like a cruel reminder of everything I'd just thrown away. My dress was ruined and my make-up had melted hours ago.
I wasn't supposed to be sweating in a cheap rental car. I was supposed to be walking down an aisle, marrying Victor, a man who owned half of San Diego and controlled every minute of my life. I was supposed to be a trophy wife, beautiful and compliant.
Instead, I was a runaway bride with a stolen credit card and a rapidly dissolving plan.
I was running from Victor and I was meeting Cash.
I met Cash three months ago when Victor hired him. Cash didn't run a normal security firm. He handled internal problems. Leaks, debts, disappearances, the kind of messes wealthy men create and pay a fortune to erase.
He always had a dark aura around him. We spoke rarely maybe three times in total, always short, clipped exchanges about security schedules or upcoming trips. But every time his dark eyes met mine, I felt a dangerous, magnetic pull. He looked at me like he saw the bars of my gilded cage, and he looked like the only man who knew how to pick the lock to set me free.
Two weeks ago, desperation won. I sent him an anonymous, untraceable message:
I need to disappear. What's your fee?
His reply came back within half an hour:
No fee. Just tell me where.
Someone he already knew I had sent the messages. Yet, he was trading his reputation, his safety, and possibly his life for my escape. I had no idea why, and I couldn't bring myself to ask.
I found the motel easily. The sign blinked Desert Sands in faded neon. Room 204.
I walked into the dim motel room. The walls were a dull peach color, and the air smelled old and musty, nothing like the bright, hot desert outside. I could still feel the day's heat on my skin, but as soon as I stepped inside, a different kind of warmth surrounded me.
I used the spare key he had instructed me to find under a loose paving stone and slipped inside. The curtains were drawn, plunging the room into a musty, twilight gloom.
I tossed my light duffel onto the threadbare bed. I changed into a thin, silky blouse and mini skirt for comfort.
I jumped when the door lock clicked.
I spun around to see Cash, as he rested his back against the doorframe, shutting out the last sliver of hallway light.
There was something about him that drew all my attention. He wore the usual black leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots, but he looked tired, tensed up, like he'd been driving just as fast as I had. The small room suddenly felt charged with his presence. When his dark eyes met mine, it felt like his stare touched me physically. I could feel my heart beginning to beat fast.
The air between us grew tense and full of unspoken desire, almost buzzing with charged energy.
He pushed away from the doorframe slowly, his every move steady and sure. He crossed the room in five long strides, and I could feel his warmth even before he reached me, like the air itself was drawing us closer.
He didn't speak. He didn't ask if Victor was close or if I was safe. He only looked at me, at the runaway girl he'd risked everything for.
When his hand brushed my waist, a shiver ran through me, and then he pulled me in.
The leather of his jacket felt cool against my bare skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that I could feel coming from him.
Our lips met, in a kiss; both gentle and desperate, a mix of wanting and holding back. His mouth moved against mine with a rush that made my heart race. I could taste the faint trace of whiskey on his breath.
"I've been dying to taste you," he murmured against my lips, his voice low and rough, edged with a raw hunger. His words sent a rush of heat and adrenaline through me , and I felt my pussy ache with a need that was almost painful. I couldn't help but watched as my hands acted on their own accord, gripping his jacket, pulling him closer, as if I could erase the space between us entirely. I could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against my stomach.
He kissed his way down my neck. His fingers brushed against the buttons of my blouse, his touch both gentle an insistent. I was trembling. Every nerve in my body, alive with anticipation.
"You're so fucking beautiful,Jina." he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands slid up my thighs. I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet safe in a way that surprised me. Everything else around us faded into insignificance as the world narrowed to just the two of us.
He paused, his face close to mine, our eyes locking with an intensity that stole my breath. His gaze was intense, searching, as if he was waiting for my permission to cross the final boundary. In that heartbeat, I saw the hunger in his eyes and the undeniable pull that bound us together.
"Do it," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but it was enough. He understood. It was all he needed.
He didn't hesitate. He lifted me without effort and laid me carefully on the neatly made bed. He hovered over me bringing his lips against my sensitive thighs. His tongue was hot and wet, tracing patterns that made me gasp, my hands tangled in his hair as I pulled him in closer.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered against my skin. His words were like fuel to the fire burning within me, and I felt my hips arch involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. I couldn't stop the way my body responded. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against me, and then his mouth was back, his tongue relentless, his fingers teasing the edges of my panties.
I was lost in the moment, my whole body responding to his touch with a desperation that surprised even me. My pussy was wet, achingly so, and I could feel the tension building up down there. His mouth was everywhere, his lips and tongue mapping every inch of me.
"Cash," I moaned, the word trembling between us, a part plea, a part surrender. I wasn't sure which. I needed more, needed him to push me over the edge, to claim me completely.
He looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with something that felt both fierce and tender.
"Say it again," he commanded, his voice rough with emotion.
"Cash," I breathed, my voice breaking on his name. "Please."
A slow smile curved his lips. "Anything for you," he murmured, before his mouth was back down on me, his tongue delving deeper, his fingers slipping inside my panties, finding the wet heat of my pussy.
A cry escaped my lips as the moment overwhelmed me, my body arching off the bed as my fingers gripped his hair tighter. Every nerve in my body felt more alive, my heartbeat louder. His touch was relentless, his fingers sliding in and out, his thumb pressing against my clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me. The whole room was a blur of sensation with the way he was driving me to the edge, pulling me close and closer to orgasm.
"Cum for me," he growled, his voice rough but gentle, and somehow I did, falling into the feeling, into him.
His words broke through every thing in me. My body went still, then gave in completely, lost in the flood of emotion and sensation. I cried out, my voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation, as my pussy clenched around his fingers, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm.
He didn't stop, his mouth and hands continuing their relentless assault, milking every last drop of pleasure from me. I was a mess, my body boneless, my breath coming in ragged gasps, as he finally pulled away, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Fuck," I managed, my voice hoarse and unsteady, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of my orgasm. "That was—"
"Not enough," he interrupted, his voice a low rumble. "Not nearly enough."
He rose to his feet, climbing off the bed, his eyes raking over me with a hunger that made my skin flush. "Come on. Get on your knees," he commanded.
For a heartbeat, I hesitated, my heart pounding, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through me. But there was no denying the desire in his eyes. Slowly, I did as he asked, my knees hitting the worn carpet, my breath coming in short gasps as I looked up at him.
"You're mine," he said quietly as he loomed over me, the words more vow than threat, his voice carrying both heat and conviction.
His words made me shiver. I nodded, my throat dry, unable to speak.
He moved closer, his eyes locked mine.
"Look at me," he said softly, the command more intimate than harsh. And I did, caught in the pull of his intimidating gaze, in the moment that seemed to stretch endlessly between us.
He unbuckled his belt slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, the sound of the leather creaking echoing in the silent room. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper.
I did, my heart pounding, my breath coming in short gasps as I watched him undo his fly. He stepped closer, his dick springing free, thick and hard, the head glistening with pre-cum. "Take it," he ordered.
My hands trembled as I reached for him. I wrapped my fingers around his dick, feeling the heat of his skin, the veins throbbing under my touch. He drew in a sharp breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he leaned his head back as if fighting for control.
"Suck it," he growled.
I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, my tongue swirling as I took him into my mouth. He tasted of salt and skin. I moaned around his cock, the sound vibrating against him.
"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, his hands tangling in my hair, guiding me as he thrust into my mouth. "Take it all, baby. Take every fucking inch."
I did my best, my lips stretching as I took him as deep as I could, my throat tightening around him, my hands gripping his hips to steady myself. He tasted so good, and the sound of his ragged breaths, the way his body tensed with each thrust, only fueled my desire.He was thick, his cock filling my mouth completely, and I could feel the head of his cock brushing the back of my throat. I could choke.
"That's a good girl," he praised, his voice thick with desire. "Suck it like you mean it."
"I'm close," he said, his voice rough with emotion, every word trembling with intensity.
I looked up at him, caught in the heat of the moment. His control slipped for a heartbeat, and I could see the rawness in his expression, the vulnerability beneath the desire.
"Fuck, I'm gonna—" He cut off with a groan, his body stiffening as he thrust deep into my mouth, his cock pulsing as he came. I moaned around him, the taste of his cum flooding my mouth, salty and thick, as I swallowed, taking every drop he gave me.
He shuddered, his hands tightening in my hair, his body trembling with the force of his release. Slowly, he pulled out, his cock slipping from my lips with a wet pop, both of us breathing heavily.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse as he looked down at me, his eyes dark with satisfaction.
"You're perfect," he whispered, his tone filled with something deeper than passion, something almost reverent.
I smiled, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of our encounter, my lips swollen from his cock. "Yours," I whispered,
He reached down, his fingers brushing my cheek, his touch gentle despite the raw intensity of the moment.
"Mine," he whispered, his voice a low rumble and something about the way he said it made my heart skip.
The room was silent, the only sound was our ragged breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. But in that moment, with Cash looking down at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper, something possessive, something reckless, something raw, something that would consume us both.
And I couldn't wait to see where it would take us.