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Chapter 4: "Boss, it's Mrs. Layla, …. You might want to see this yourself.”
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2023-09-08 16:13:57Ryan’s pov.
“What’s she doing now?”
My hand skims over the rim of the monitor as I look at the small figure.
In my field of vision is a man by a window. One of my windows, and one of my men. The dark-suited man answers in a low whisper.
“She’s getting a refill, sir.”
My eyebrows bunch in annoyance.
“A refill of what?”
My tone is impatient but I keep my temper in check. It’s one of the things I'll need to work on if I want to be better.
The video changes, switched automatically from the CCTV cameras to the eye camera in the sunshades all my men wear. Layla looks like an actress out of an eighties movie.
That summer yellow-tinged appeal all old Hollywood movies have to them lends her an air of exotic beauty, and for a while, all I can do is stare.
Her hair falls like golden wool down her back. It looks soft to the touch, even with the slightly blurred resolution. Her hair feels wild and matted from days spent in her bed yet unbelievably soft and thick.
Layla looks beautiful.
So beautiful I could watch her all day,
My mind flashes to the events that have led us up to this point and I curse silently, both at myself and at my impulses.
One look at her tears, and I came undone inside. I would have rescinded all my orders that minute if she asked me to.
And she did. Layla begged me to let her go, with tears brimming in her eyes, beautiful peridot orbs helping her shatter my heart even more.
But I can't let her go. Not now, and not yet. I adjust in my seat as I say, “Cut the video. Keep a close eye on her, if she acts weird, call me immediately.”
The call cuts with a beep and my body grows hot with the need for her. My cock grows with the desire of needing her close to me. I pick up the dark receiver of the landline and dial a number.
George picks up immediately and his voice is rough as he asks, “What do you need, boss?”
I decide today I want something other than a gun or a good lawyer. My voice is dark and crackly as I reply, “A woman. Shapely, sensual, green-eyed, and blonde-haired.”
I hear the silence that comes from the other side of the phone.
I hear the suspicion that arises in George’s heart, but he works for me so he doesn’t get to question me. He grunts as he answers.
“I’ll have one up in an hour.”
“Thirty minutes. Have a woman up here in thirty minutes or forget you have a job.”
George grunts out a “yes sir” but I cut the call. I wait for whoever he’s going to bring and my thoughts take me back to days when I pined for women.
I loved the sight of them. All I could think of was how to make them moan beneath me, make them scream my name, bend their soft supple bodies into obscene positions and slam my dick so hard and fast that our bodies trembled as we met our release.
That was five years ago, I was twenty and horny as a teen, but then my father brings a girl home.
A girl no older than eighteen. She was dirty.
Layla had tattered clothes, mud on her face, dirty hands. I’d later find out she tried to run from the car but that’s not what caught me off guard.
I ignored her. She was my enemy.
I was the kind of guy who would never look at someone like her if we met anywhere except my father’s house. I learned the eighteen-year-old was to be my stepmother, and I hated her even more.
I treated her like she didn’t exist.
But Layla was a vixen that wouldn’t be ignored. A siren… who might have captured something in me the first time I saw her, and held it captive ever since.
My stepmother fucked other men.
I knew it and I couldn't understand why. My father never knew.
My father loved Layla, yet she betrayed him in such a way. I was a bastard of a child because, for all the betrayal she dealt him, I wanted her to betray him with me.
I wanted her to revel in the pleasure of sex with me, moan my name on her pretty lips, and sing in pleasure as I fucked her under the showers, yet she never did.
“Your order’s arrived, boss.”
I raise my eyes and see the smiling female. Hair like golden spools, and lips in a sensual red hue. Her boobs are full, her waist is slim and she has green eyes, not the same. But close enough.
“Get out then.”
George nods and I stand, meeting the hooker halfway to my table, and grabbing her in one rough motion, and slamming our lips together.
She whimpers as I rip her dress off, makes a harsh hissing sound when I leave the rest of her underwear in tatters, there’s a lick of fear in her eyes now when she looks at me, and I strip. Desire hums heavy in her.
Even when she’s scared I might be rough, she still wants me. Still wants to risk having me. Her eyes widen slightly when they drift and settle downward but I don't give her time to complain.
I like them silent. I push her onto my table, her hips at the same level as mine and I slam into her with one hard growl. She moans amid her yelp, and I let my anger out.
I let my frustrations out, I turn her body in my mind’s eye into Layla’s, and I feel my cock grow harder in her.
The landline rings and I tap the answer button, still slamming hard into the wet heat of a vagina. My cock comes out with a pop at what I hear next.
“Boss, it’s Mrs Layla, …. You might want to see this yourself.”
I grab my clothes and exit the room immediately.
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