Her Mother's Cry For Help

KYLIAN

"Oh fuck...Mmm," Iris grips tightened at the edge of the table, her moans rising, almost hitting the ceiling as I pounded hard into her.

Her big, perky breasts slapping against each other.

A low, lusty grunt rumbled in my throat. Oh fuck! 

"This is so good, Kylian...oh yes," her body quaked with pleasure. "I'm going to cum...fuck!" She let out in a voice thickened by desire. 

My hands gathered her curvy waist tighter, thrusting into her harder than before. 

I was also at the edge of lust, my seeds ready to spill.

"Oh fuck...I love you so much, Kylian..." She cried loudly as her pussy began to gush with her release, flooding my dick and making a wet mess on the floor of the bedroom in my penthouse.

Seconds later, my dick spurted cum.

"Oh damn..." 

Slowly, I slipped my dick out of her pussy. I smacked her ass cheek. "Bad girl."

She emitted a low chuckle, straightening to face me, "that was wonderful."

I gently removed the wet, slippery condom loaded with my cum from my dick. "Yeah."

I left her to go dispose of the protective rubber in the trash, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. 

When I stepped out with a towel about my waist minutes later, she was holding my phone.

"Your phone, it's been ringing non-stop." 

"Did you pick it?" I asked, taking the phone from her.

Her brows pinched a little, "you don't like anyone picking your calls, remember?"

She walked past me, confidently strutting her naked body, all hot curves and soft skin, disappearing into a corner that led to the kitchen. 

The number was unknown.

Guessing it could be one of those random girls who found it hard to let go after a one-time, paid sex, I frowned and slid the green button.

I waited for the caller to talk first.

"Hello?"

I wasn't surprised to hear a woman's voice, but it wasn't exactly the kind of voice I had in mind.

This was older, croaky — like they'd been crying.

"Kylian?" A sniffle. "Mr. Caldwell? Am I speaking to Kylian Caldwell?"

"Who's asking?" I asked, my tone a bit suspicious. I couldn't place the voice...not yet.

"Julia Robertson. Roxanne's mother." Another sniffle.

Roxanne.

That got my attention.

Concern and worry knotted into one big, nervous knot. "Is everything okay, Mrs. Robertson?"

"P-please, can I see you? I-it's urgent. Please."

If I could remember correctly, Julia's mom was a domestic staff working for my stepmom and my brother.

"Uh..." I cast a glance at the corner Iris had just disappeared into, she came out then holding a small bowl of Greek yogurt, eyes steady on me, "is everything alright, Mrs. Robertson?"

"I-it's not something we can discuss on the phone. I'd like us to see and talk about it, please." She was trying so hard not to fall apart on the other side of the line, "it's weekend and I know you've possibly made plans, but please. I won't take much of your time. Please."

This could be concerning Roxanne. 

For the past months, I've been trying not to think of her — and the kiss that had happened that night in my home. 

"Alright. I'll send you address to my place."

"Oh...thank you. I'll be waiting." Relief flooded her trembling voice. 

I ended the call and texted her the address to my penthouse. 

"Who was that? Any troubles?" Iris looked up from scrolling on her phone, still naked and eating yogurt on my bed. 

Her back length strawberry blonde cascaded unruly and uncombed down her back. 

I'd planned for her to spend the weekend with me. But she would have to leave tomorrow evening so she could have time to resume work on Monday as my secretary. 

"Nothing to worry yourself," I replied, "but you need to go shower and get decent. I have a visitor coming."

Obediently, she went to do as told and was clad in a pair of distressed bum shorts and tank top, her nipples peeking through the red fabric. 

Iris had body that most men would spend their last dime on, and it gave me pleasure to have her at my beck and call. 

A knock came on my door. "Make yourself scarce. Remain here." I ordered, then went out into the living room, crossing to answer the door.

I was already dressed casually in a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants. 

The woman standing at the door had an expression written in despair, desperation and hopelessness. 

Roxanne. 

Something within reacted, but I banked it. 

"Welcome, Mrs. Robertson. Come in."

Gentlemanly, I opened the door wider and moved out of the way so she could come in. 

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Caldwell." She clutched her bag tight, indicating nerves. 

"Call me Kylian, Mrs. Robertson. Please, have a seat." I motioned towards the perfectly aligned arrangement of my black sofas.

"Thank you." She gingerly lowered herself to the single sofa, her posture alert as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to relax or bolt for the door. 

"Want anything to drink?" I offered, my eyes subtly studying her expression.

She shook her head, "not really."

Saying nothing more to that, I went into the kitchen and loaded a tray with a glass of cold juice, bottled water and a plate of cookies I had baked myself.

I took a bottle of beer for myself.

"You didn't have to." She murmured, but loud enough for me to hear.

I plopped down on the sofa opposite hers and twisted open the cap of my beer, taking a swig while she eyed the refreshments on the tray, obviously contemplating whether or not to accept any.

Decisively, she took the water and drank. 

"Thank you." She wiped the corner of her mouth a drop had leaked from.

She was very thirsty. 

"Now, tell me what's wrong, Mrs. Robertson?" I leaned in, genuinely concerned, meeting her dull grey eyes. "Is Roxanne okay?"

Her eyes welled, her face scrunched in sorrow as she shook her head, "n-no."

Nerves surfaced, just a little. "What's wrong with her?"

The woman sniffled, "Roxanne was arrested and jailed."

Shock and disbelief rocked my system. I pulled back. "What?"

She nodded. "My daughter has been in jail for over a week now and nobody is letting me see her. I have begged your brother and your stepmom, even his fiancee, but they are vowing to have her go in for murder a-and attempted m-murder...oh my goodness," unable to hold back emotions, she burst into tears, lowering her head.

I looked at her sad posture, befuddled, "murder and attempted murder?"

It took her a while before she comported herself and explained everything that had transpired to me. She took a handkerchief from her bag to wipe her nose. "Vanessa lost her pregnancy. So they're saying my daughter murdered the unborn child and Vanessa almost lost her life."

Anger swirled, but just like the other times, I opted for control and reason. I rose from my seat to go get my phone, "I'll be right back."