Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 68
My moans turned into muffled screams.
“Daddy.” I screamed as a plea for him to stop, but hoping he wouldn't. It was so good and hurt so bad. My system became over stimulated. If he managed to coax another orgasm out of me, I would pass out and not be able to enjoy it.
I dug my fingers into Conor’s chest.
“You ready baby girl?”
I nodded. My hair whipped wildly back and forth.
“Use your words.” He grunted in my ear.
I flinched.
He rubbed the back of my head.
“Yes. Daddy.” I screamed back.
“Come with Daddy.” He groaned.
“Yes. Yes. Yes!”
If the previous orgasm was a wave, this one was a tsunami. Our bodies stiffened and I cried out while Conor groaned and held me close.
His body twitched a few more times.
It sent a series of shocks through my system and I thought I was being executed. I slapped my hand down on his chest again and slid off to his side.
Thankfully, he let me.
He slid out of me.
I felt empty and it made me sad.
Conor kissed me again and laid my head on his chest.
I ran my fingers over the little patch of hair, afraid to move, afraid to speak.
I felt secure wrapped in Conor's arms. I felt more myself. I didn't want it to end.
Conor fished something out of his pocket.
He held his phone up over us and took a photo.
“Why are you taking photos?” I asked him, scratched my nails on his chest. “I’m right here.”
“I want to remember this moment.”
I frowned. I didn't like the sound of it. It sounded final.
“You might come to your senses and realize you’re not supposed to be with an old cranky guy like me.”
“You’re only thirty five, Daddy.”
“How did you know that?” Conor massaged the back of my neck.
“Internet.” I giggled and squeezed him tighter.
“Hey, Mika.”
I tapped out a tune on his chest.
“Mika.” Conor said louder. “Look at me.”
I lifted my head and rested my chin on his chest.
“Daddy’s not done with you yet.”
My chest fluttered.
“But, we need to get back to the house before James sends a search party out for us.” Conor tapped my ass.
The sting sprung to the surface.
“Okay.” I push myself up and climbed out of the van.
Conor sat up.
I reached down to grab my panties.
He grabbed them out of my hand.
I stood up and put my hands on my hips.
“Another souvenir.” Conor sniffed them.
I cringed.
He chuckled and put them in his pocket.
“Now, let me clean my little girl up so she doesn’t look like she’s been fucked in the back of a van.”
Chapter Seven
Conor
Mika's giggles went straight to my cock. It took some effort to put myself back in my shorts and turn my attention back to her. I didn’t mind the mess she made. I smelled of her and I liked it.
I reached in the back of the van and found a towel and a bottle of water. I wetted the towel.
“Sit down.” I motioned toward the door.
“I can do it myself.” She bit her lip. Her signature expression. It told me she was unsure about something.
“Sit.” I said again and raised any eyebrow. “Lift your skirt.”
I took my time wiping away the evidence.
When I tried to scare her, I mentioned the kinky hair between her legs. Mika had no hair at all. She was shaved bare. I leaned over and kissed her pussy.
She gasped.
One single peck to remind her of what was to come.
Mika sighed.
I stood up, my ears perked up.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
A car approached.
“I guess they found us.” Mika pouted, stood up and finger combed her hair out of her face.
The problem was, the car approaching wasn't one of ours.
I gripped Mika’s arm.
“What’s wrong?”
I placed a finger on her lips.
Cars drove down this road on occasion. Why did this particular car have the hair on the back of my neck standing on end?
The car skidded to a stop, ten feet from the front of the van.
I heard some guys speaking Spanish, two or three voices.
“Conor,” Mika whispered.
I closed the back door of the van. I turned back to face Mika. I grabbed her arms.
“Mika.” I squeezed to get her attention. “I need you to listen to me.”
“What’s going on?”
“Listen.” I shook her.
The fear in her eyes gutted me. She wasn’t afraid of me. She knew shit was about to happen. She felt it on me. I calmed my tone.
“It’s going to be okay.” I kissed her forehead. “I want you to get in the van and lock the doors. No matter what happens, don't come out. You understand.”
“Hola, Gringos.”
Mika whimpered and covered her mouth.
“Get in the van.” I pushed her in. “If anything happens to me, you jump behind the wheel and take off.”
“No, I—”
“Mika. You take off and run over one or two of those motherfuckers if you can.” I reached for the other door. “You get your ass back to the compound and let James know.”
“Gringos?”
“Promise me you'll go.”
“Okay.” I slammed the door. One second later, I heard the doors lock.
That’s my good girl.
I fished my phone out of my back pocket and called James. At the same time, I pressed the panic button. It alerted the whole crew on the job. Shit was about to go down and they were to converge on my location. I could have checked on James’ location, but I didn’t have time.
“Ah,” one of the guys in the back of the old rusted out Hummer stood up and pointed. “Here is one of the gringos now.”
“Gentleman.” I said as I approached them. I grabbed for my gun. Fuck. I had placed it on the center console when I found Mika. Maybe she'll see it, pick it up, and shot these fuckers.
Another guy jumped out of the truck and circled around wide to stand on the other side of the road, parallel to where Mika sat in the van.
Smart.
My insides raged with adrenaline. My training switched my body to fight mode, but experience signaled my brain to be rational.
“What can I help you with?” I tried to sound laid back, calm.
“For starters, who’s you friend in the van? Why she not come out? What’s wrong? She shy?” The guy in the Hummer rubbed his dick.
“Just some puta I picked up in Cartagena.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“She’s pretty.” The guy across the street said.
“You can have her when I’m done. If there is anything left of her.” I smirked.
The guy in front of me wore a beige suit with a sweaty black tank top underneath. He mimicked me. My stances, my expression. I ran a hand over my head. He did the same, through his greasy black hair. His whole cool guy routine, he couldn't pull it off.
The driver of the Hummer peeked at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes shifted all around as he re-gripped the steering wheel every few seconds.
“Ah. I see.” Mr. Beige Suit said. He jumped out of the back of the Hummer and landed solid on his feet. He approached and rubbed his free hand on his dirty tank top. He had an AK slung over his back and his hand resting on a pistol tucked into his pants.
The guy across the road had shifted a few inches at a time closer to the van. His appearance wasn't any better. He wore pants too big for him and, a white tank top. A black button down hung open. Sweat stains salted his shirt around the arms and collar.
I looked back for a second. Mika was in the driver’s seat. Her eyes wide.
She shook her head back and forth. The fear in her eyes made my heart ache.
I nodded, trying to project we were okay. I had to stall the guys for another three minutes.
“I’m sorry, gringo.” Beige suit guy spit.
I turned my attention back to him.
“We take her now.” He said in broken English. He unholstered his gun. “Comprende?”
“Why don't you guys come back to my place and we can take her together?” I grinned.
“You’re a perverted …how do you Americans say it. Mutherfucker.” He snickered.
“Well I’m not suggesting we fuck each other, but if that's what you guys are into, I’m not one to judge.” I held my hands out to my side.
The guys in front of me laughed.
The little guy behind me joined him.
I shrugged my shoulders and joined them. I could laugh my ass off for the next two minutes if it meant they would leave Mika alone.
“I like you.” Beige suit guy said. “I not kill you.”
The guy in the driver’s seat stepped out of the vehicle. “Stop fucking around,” he said in perfect English with a slight Spanish accent. He shouted some command in Spanish I didn't understand.
He appeared in charge with his tailored slacks and button down linen shirt, but he also looked scared shitless. I could tell by the way he wouldn't look me in the eye. He was afraid.
The little guy behind me shuffled to the driver’s side door.
He gripped the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.
I shifted to my left.
“Hey,” Beige suit guy pointed the gun to my head. “We having nice chat.”
I thought the guy wasn't going to kill me.
Fucking Colombian liar.
The other guy tried the door again.
I needed to check on Mika, but I couldn't take my eyes off the guy in front of me. He was the dangerous one.
I could disarm him and take him out no problem, but should I risk it?
The sound of shattering glass and Mika's scream made the decision for me. I approached the little fucker in front of me.
I distracted him and took his gun in two seconds, but not fast enough.
“Drop the gun right now, or she’s gone,” The clean cut one, said.
“I don't give a fuck about her.” I trained the gun on his guy now cowering on the ground.
“Wow.” The guy approached her.
“Mika!”
He knew her name.
“My dear, its such a shame you hired such disloyal security.” He ran his thumb over Mika’s cheek.
She flinched. Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Get your fucking hands off of her.” I said and dropped the gun.
The little fucker picked it up.
I didn’t see him, but heard him rear back.
I braved two second before the butt of the gun came down on the back of my head.
My knees buckled and the pain shot down my spine. I fell to my knees.
“Conor.” Mika screamed. The sound muffled as my brain rebooted itself.
The next blow came in the exact same spot.
I growled and collapsed on the ground.
I heard her struggle. She kicked and screamed.
That’s it baby girl, fight back.
It was my last thought before my world went black.
Chapter Eight
Mika
Glass shattered all around me.
I scrambled to the passenger side of the van, shards of glass dug into my legs.
The little Columbian man in the ill-fitting pants reached through the window and grabbed my hair and yanked.
My shoulders collided with the door.
I grunted from the pain.
I reached back, scratched at his hands.
He yanked harder.
I swung an elbow. It connected with his jaw.
“Puta bitch.” He growled, grabbed my hair with both hands, and pulled me out of the window.
I landed on the ground with a thud. Pain radiated down my left leg. The two other men yelled at each other in Spanish.
Focus Mika.
I attempted to decipher what they said, but then I caught Conor's crumpled form in my peripheral. He wasn't moving, but he was breathing.
“Get her in the fucking truck,” the driver said. He appeared in charge, but from the way he dressed and the clean-cut look, he obviously didn't shop at the same stores as his minions.
The little guy tried to pick me up. I outweighed him by a hundred pounds. He gave up, grabbed my wrist, and dragging me across the road.
I kicked and screamed.
When we reached halfway, I was parallel to Conor. I had to get away. I had to check on him. I couldn't let them take me.
When the little guy took a breather, I made my move.
I got my legs underneath me and pushed up. I balled my hands into fists and launched myself at his crotch. I connected.
Not solid, but enough for him to let go and grab himself.
I scrambled over toward Conor, but stopped a few feet away.
The other guy had the gun trained on the back of Conor’s head.
“I swear the two of you are useless,” the driver said with disgust on his face.
“Please don't.” I pleaded with the man holding the gun.
The driver grabbed my bicep and squeezed. He yanked me toward the truck. He opened the door and motioned for me to climb in.
I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. Was he fucking crazy? No way was I going to climb in.
“Shoot him,” the driver said.
The gun exploded before I could move or make a sound.
The guy places his hand on the side of my head and shoves me in the car. I crawled across the back seat and tried the other door. It was locked. He got in behind me.
“Let’s go.” He yelled to his friends.
I crawled over him and managed to get the door open. I looked back at Conor. He moved his arm.
I pushed and shoved to get out the door.
The guy grabbed me around the waist and held me to him.
I managed to get one foot out the door when I felt it.
A sting, like a mosquito latched on to my neck. I reached for it, but my arms weighed a ton, then my world went black.
I shivered and grabbed my neck. Whatever they injected me with wore off, but made my head feel like lead. I opened my eyes and blinked. It was dark. The only light came from the slit in the door to my right. I laid on something soft. It creaked as I sat up and swung my legs off the side.
I gripped my head.
Conor.
I am in so much trouble.
Conor, Daddy was going to spank my ass when he finds me.
If he finds me.
I shook the thought out of my head. It rattled my brain.
He will find me. It was his job and he was good at his job.
My left hip throbbed. I ran my hand down my leg and picked a small piece of glass out of my quad. The wound was moist. I took the thin worn sheets under me and put pressure on it.
My injuries didn't mask the sting on my ass.
I smiled.
A warm tingle rose from my belly and spread through my arms and legs. It kept me warm in the damp and dank room.
It finally happened. I knew Conor wanted me and we were amazing together. I didn't understand the Daddy/little girl dynamic, but I liked it. I liked the idea of needing someone and someone needed me.
I need him now more than ever.
I heard voices speaking in Spanish. My two years of spanish in high school were no help.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. I looked around.
All of this was my fault.
If I hadn't left the compound, I wouldn't be in this mess.
Conor wouldn't be …
“He's not dead.” I said out loud. If I said it enough times, it would be true. It had to be true. I swear I saw him move. His head was intact. His brains didn’t litter the road.
He’s not dead.
I pushed myself up and took a few steps. Nausea hit me. I grabbed my head and fell back on the bed. I scooted back toward the wall and brought my knees to my chest. The cool air hit my pussy. I laid my legs to the side and smoothed down my skirt.
Conor had my panties in his pocket. I giggled. I was delirious.
My hair fell in my face. I pushed it back. One of the pieces hung weird.
“You fucked up my weave, you motherfucker.” I screamed and waited for an answer.
My throat hurt. I went to work picking at the thread that connected the track to my hair. It gave me something to do while I waited. I had almost removed the entire track when I heard voices.
I sat on the edge of the bed and listened. It was only murmurs and muffled sounds.
I sighed and lay back down on the bed. I needed my strength for when Daddy found me.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I drifted in and out of sleep.
Chapter Nine
Conor
I groaned and held my hand over my right ear. The slimy asshole shot into the ground near my head. It was meant to control Mika. The motherfucker should have killed me because I was going to kill him.
That shit hurts.
I heard two familiar truck engines skid to a stop behind me.
I pushed up on my knees.
A door opened.
“Conor.” I heard James’ voice, but it was muffled and distant.
The back of my neck throbbed and the ringing in my ears grew louder.
A hand touched my shoulder. I slapped it away and fell back on my ass.
“Conor.”
I blinked and the world came back into focus.
I could hear, too.
“You alright man?” James asked.
I held my hand out.
James hoisted me up.
I wavered on my feet.
“Woah.” He held on to my shoulder. “Look at me.”
I shook my head and it cleared out more cobwebs.
I focused on him.
He held my face between his hands. He scanned it, pulled down on my cheek to check my eyes.
“You're going to live.” He checked my ears.
