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Thanks to my team, who make writing easy. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a prepost read. My editors are Girlinthemoon, Hal, Norafares, and Pixel the Cat. Thanks to the folks over at Sports Illustrated for their support.
Fallon’s words, “I do know who you are,” filled me with a sense of foreboding that nearly paralyzed me. I had zero understanding how she could really know that, but if she did, what would that mean? If she didn’t… what could she be thinking?
Whatever the case, it seemed it was going to wait. “Let’s not do this now,” she said. “God, Canton, I’m just so happy to be here with you, that you’re alive and healthy, that I’m done with my case. Let’s just enjoy the moment, shall we?”
I nodded, in spite of every nerve in my body being as tight as the strings of a violin. “Sure, Fallon. I’m fairly pleased you’re here and everything has turned out as it has. What do you want to do?”
She looked at me with her head cocked, quizzically. “Is my blue dress still here?” She asked.
“Everything that you left here is still here,” I said. That was the truth. The idea of throwing away anything she had worn, or even touched, was anathema to me.
“Take me to 61 Legian,” she said. “Feed me, take me dancing. We’ll talk after.”
We went to get dressed, and I felt clumsy. There was an unsteadiness to my hands that made buttoning my shirt difficult. I had never suffered from anxieties, but there was something in me that wanted to run to her room, throw open the door and say, “Tell me now!” I managed to restrain that impulse, somehow, got my shirt buttoned and my tie knotted. I walked to the entry and told Francis we were going out, poured myself a little nerve medicine and she came down the stairs.
She took my breath away, each time I saw her. That dress made the blue of her eyes pop, embracing her dramatic curves like a second skin, creamy shoulders bare. She saw my eyes, and did a slow pirouette. The dress was backless, all that silky skin glowing with health and beauty. It plunged down, giving the same hint of cleavage at that incredible butt that the front gave of her breasts. “I’m okay?” Her eyes sparkled.
“You don’t need me to tell you that,” I said. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever encountered, Fallon. I’ll tell you, anytime you need to hear it.”
She crossed the room to me, athletic, even in four-inch heels. She put her arms around me in a hug, for just a moment, her cheek pressed into my chest, then looked up at me. Her hand cupped my cheek, long slender fingers caressing me. “Always, from you,” she said.
Francis pulled the car around, and we were off for a night of decadence. It was a little drive, and she snuggled up; we talked about nothing, and everything. I cherished every moment.
Sky Garden was as opulent as ever. We browsed the buffet, several times, availed ourselves of the free drinks, if you consider the $100 cover charge free, wandered to the roof-top where we danced casually, a drink in hand, and wound up in the Skydome, her pressed against me, her head on my shoulder as we moved languidly to the music. It was sheer reveling to me.
I had no right to that much joy. My life was a wasteland of bad memories, bad people, choices no one should make. The sole ray of light was Fallon. I had no right to her, no right to be that happy, in that moment, no right to even be alive. I had accepted death, but she made me live.
I think she sensed something in me, because she was clinging, never losing contact, at any moment. We were both floating on a sea of good feeling. The drinks flowed and we were laughing and lit up like beacons. At 12:30, she looked up at me, the liquid pools of her eyes haunting and shadowed. “Take me home, Canton.”
The drive was quiet; she seemed to be lost in some inner reverie, her head on my shoulder with my arm around her. When I looked down, just before we arrived, she was asleep.
She awakened when we stopped at the door. We went in and she held my arms. “Tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Her lips brushed mine, and she was gone. I floated up the stairs, the spell lingering, undressed and went to bed. I fell asleep, quickly, and dreamed of blue eyes and angels. The dream became erotic, at some point. I was enveloped in love, heat, moisture, and I swam slowly to consciousness. I was lying on my back; the room was filled with a soft shimmering glow as the light that illuminated the pool dimly shifted with whatever ripples disturbed the surface.
I saw her, and the moment was frozen in time. She was stunning in her beauty, the passion she was feeling on her face, that heavy lidded, slack, but almost painful expression of sexual pleasure. She was naked, her breasts slowly moving with her motions over me. They were spectacular, not so much in size, though they were full and heavy, but in form.
I had seen her in a bikini, of course, so I had a good idea of what she would look fake hospital porno like without one, but the reality was not something for which I was prepared. Her breasts were high and heavy, with all the resilience of her youth, firm and moving as she moved, with a little bounce at the end of each motion. They were perfectly formed, round and a little fuller at the bottoms, golden skinned, with her areola a little puffy, thicker than the surrounding skin and a little crinkled with her arousal. They were just a little higher than the center of her breasts, making them point upward a little, and her nipples were small and a slightly darker shade, golden brown.
She was broad shouldered, her torso tapering to a small waist, her belly flat and ridged with muscle. She very obviously worked out, and it had paid dividends, as her body was toned and athletic. Her hips were slender, but rounded with those glorious female curves. This was a goddess! It was my daughter!
I began to awaken to the situation and began to move to disengage. “Fallon…” I began.
She moaned, low in her throat, cutting into my words, and her slender warm fingers covered my lips. She leaned forward onto me, her breasts now flattened onto my chest, rubbery nipples scraping mine, and her lips replaced her fingers. She tasted like mint toothpaste and hungry girl.
“Don’t say another word,” she whispered, fiercely. “The only thing I want to hear is ‘I love you, Fallon’. We will have time to talk about everything, in the morning. I love you, Canton. I’m doing this. You just hang on for the ride.”
I tried to protest, but her mouth covered mine, and she clung to me with a strength that I would have to hurt her to break. The heat of her, inside, and surrounding me, sapped my will, and the feel of that silky body on mine was a madness that I felt stealing my strength of resolve and logic.
She groaned as she impaled herself, fully. “God, you’ve got a big dick, Canton. It feels so good!”
I was pretty sure she didn’t have much to compare me with, and her idea of “big dick” would likely not have made porn actresses swoon, but she was very tight, very hot and very wet. I could hear the sounds as she moved and her musk filled the air. She was all satin skin, hot mouth over mine, and she was impossible to resist. Her hair covered our faces with a silky curtain, enshrouding us in a tent of privacy in which existed only Fallon and Canton.
My hands rose of their own volition, running down her sides to the swell of her hips and up over her, cupping the firmly rounded cheeks of an ass that was like a shelf. She was becoming comfortable, and she moved freely. I pushed her up a little, giving myself some space and pulling her knees tighter against me. I matched her motions, moving more quickly, and I felt her begin a little trembling. Her moans became fuller, and she worked her hips, amazingly flexible as I filled her, driving upward.
“God, Canton… Oh, my God!” Her motions became frantic, the trembling pronounced. She made a whimper, turning to a hoarse little sobbing sound, and every muscle tensed, then released. She collapsed on me, and I held, deep insider her as she shook and slowly writhed atop me, slowing after a long minute to totally relax.
Her cheek was against mine, and she whispered. “Did you come?”
I didn’t answer, just rolled with her until I was on top. I stroked into her twice, and her eyes went wide. “I guess not,” she murmured.
I knelt, losing entry for a moment, and she moaned her disappointment. She didn’t have time to be very disappointed, because I pulled her to me and plunged back inside, that round little ass resting on my thighs. I wanted, I needed, to see this goddess to whom I was making love.
I rocked into her, long slow motions. She was flushed, her face showing the slackness of prolonged sexual excitement, and she managed to move her hips, even in that position. Her head turned from side to side in her ecstasy, and her belly flexed. I teased her, keeping everything slow and long for long minutes, building her to a frenzy, and she finally cried out.
“Canton! You’re making… you’re… Oh, God! More, faster!”
I flipped her to her stomach, bringing another gasp from her, and mounted. She moaned, deep in her chest, as I slid back inside the tightest embrace I had ever felt. She groaned as I bottomed out, just feeling the kiss of the back of her sweet pussy at the deepest I could go.
I went quickly, and she came explosively, over and over, her words becoming incoherent as her body was swept by her pleasure. The sounds, the smell of her, the sight of her beautiful face overcome by her passion, the feeling of that incredible soft/firm ass, my cock plunging into her brought me to the brink and I was coming, the most powerful thing I’d ever experienced, feeling more spiritual than physical, and it went on and on until I had not a speck of energy left, physically or emotionally.
I fake taxi porno collapsed onto that glorious girl, wrapping her in my arms and nuzzling my face into her hair. She was shaking a little, and I saw that she was crying.
“Fallon, are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded, while sobbing a little. “I’ve never… I never knew… you, you made me crazy. I… I love you, Canton. Nothing could ever…” She couldn’t continue.
I rolled us over and spooned her, just holding her and murmuring words of comfort and love. She shook, from time to time, even after she had fallen asleep, and I kept her in my arms, holding my girl, thoughts flashing through my mind like random lightning. Tomorrow would be a day of reckoning. It was impossible for me to see a way forward. My mind refused to contemplate what the new day would bring. What could possibly happen?
At some point, I awakened to the feeling that someone was watching me. I was on my back, and there was someone lying half over me. It was a female someone; I could feel luscious breasts on my side and chest; a silken leg was over mine and soft downy hair between soft silky thighs was pressed against my thigh.
I opened my eyes, and in the soft light Fallon was watching me, her eyes midnight-blue pools. I pulled her cheek to my chest and she snuggled in. “You okay, baby?” I whispered.
She nodded on my chest. “I love you, you know.” Her voice was soft and husky with emotion.
I stroked her hair. “Yes, I know,” I said. “I love you, Fallon.”
“I know,” she said.
“Fallon, I don’t know what to say, what to do,” I said.
She nodded again. “I know. Just tell me, Canton. Don’t be afraid.”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I met your mother when she was in her last year of college.” She shifted a bit, snuggling in more. I had not expected that reaction. I had expected her to pull away in horror and shock. I was unable to continue for a moment, the idea that she was not pulling away overwhelming me.
Her head tilted up and she searched my face, expectation written there. “I don’t… You’re going to hate me.” Emotion clogged my throat and I tried to clear it so I could speak. “She never knew what I was, what I did, what I became, and I was too much of a coward to tell her. I would have lost her, and I couldn’t let that happen. It was very complicated.”
She nodded again. “I know.”
“How could you know?” I asked.
“She told me,” she said. “She knew much more than you thought. She told me a lot of things that you don’t know about. I never really put it all together until recently. I know some things you don’t, as well. I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I was suddenly filled with such a sense of self-loathing that I felt as if I was suffocating. I had to move, get some control. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I told her. She kissed my chest and I slid out of bed. I collected my composure, washed my face and went back to face the music.
She was lying on her back, naked, and the moonlight played over her spectacular body. The pool lights shimmered over her and she broke my heart. “Fallon,” I began, “I’m your father, and I know that is not anything you want to hear. Trust me, you can’t possibly hate me any more than I hate myself. I was so weak and I let this happen, and I’ll always regret that. All I ask… All…” I couldn’t go on.
She patted the bed beside her and I felt some small hope. I went back, laid down beside her and she moved back into her position. “I told you there are things you don’t know,” She said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She yawned and snuggled in, stretching herself over me.
I felt such a range of emotions that I was unable to sort them out; nothing in my experience told me that she was acting as I had expected. I didn’t know what to think. I lay awake, just holding onto her for dear life. At some point I drifted off. When I awakened, she was gone.
There was a letter on the pillow beside me, and I was afraid to open it. I knew it would contain her loathing for me, for what we had done, that Fallon was gone from my life and, for all intents and purposes, my life was over. With a huge foreboding, I read.
I know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I’m going to give you some space, take some myself, let us sort things out. Please stay away from me for a while. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know. I have some things to do, some things in my life that need to be right. I’m asking you for that space. I know I can’t keep you from watching over me, and that’s okay, just keep it invisible. Know that my feelings for you are unchanged, but you and I need to think. Don’t do anything foolish. Wait for me. It may take me a while. I love you, Fallon.”
I felt a crushing weight, and at the same time, a relief that she knew, that she loved me, in spite of what had happened the night before, and that she would still even think of having me in family stroke porno her life. Oh, I certainly intended to watch over her, but I would do as she wished, keep my distance and wait. As long as it took, I’d wait.
Five months later, all was not well in the life of Canton. My business had suffered from my neglect, though I would never have to worry about money. North Africa is an open market for people like me. There are always warlords and petty squabbles ongoing, and I had always been successful in meeting the demands. I now had a rival. Several, in fact, but one in particular that troubled me. The lines clearly went back to Armenia, but the players were shadowy figures, much like me, and they were steadily eroding the market for me.
Fallon had resigned her position at her firm and gone to work for a British private security giant. Her work disappeared behind doors that I didn’t have access to, and I had no idea what she was doing. That worried me. The company was huge, professional and very secure, and though I knew people who hired them and some of the people who worked for them, they weren’t the sort of people who could be manipulated. I believe that had they chosen, there was not a regular army unit in the world of comparable size that had a snowball’s chance in hell of stopping them from accomplishing any mission they took.
I began spending more and more time in North Africa, and evidently, that was the opportunity for which my rivals had been waiting. It was a meet in a remote village, far from any named city, and the perfect place for it to happen. Half a dozen armed men in full gear entered the room where we were negotiating, and we never had a chance. I had a bag over my head and they handcuffed me, dragged me out to a vehicle. I was given an injection, and the world went away.
I woke up in hell. It was dark and hot, my feet were in leg-irons and I had shackles on my hands. I had no idea how long I had been there and no way to measure the passage of time except by the delivery of meals. I was well fed, but they kept me dehydrated. Between what I assumed was the evening and morning meal, I was tortured.
I have never seen the purpose of macho posturing, I would have told them anything they wanted to know, but they didn’t seem to be interested in information, just torture. It was nothing that left me permanently injured: waterboarding, sleep deprivation, fluctuating room temperatures so that I was either suffocating or on the edge of hypothermia, intense light and pitch darkness and drugs. Always, there were drugs.
No one spoke a word to me, and I have no idea how long it continued. Well over a month, I estimated. At the end of that time, I discovered why I was there. Normal light filled the small room I occupied and two armed men entered, followed by a third in a nice suit. I knew him. His name was Azat Kandarian. When I first met him, he was a mid-level commander in a mercenary group out of Brazil. How an Armenian ended up in Brazil, I never knew. I’d encountered him a dozen times before he became important. The mercenary group was supporting a rebel group in South America, and it came to my attention that Azat was running his own game.
He was smuggling drugs, to which the government turned a blind eye in return for information on rebel movements. I was selling ammunition to the rebels, and they were on the run, mostly because of the information Azat was passing on to the government forces. I let the rebel leaders know what I discovered, and Azat disappeared. I’d always assumed the rebels had killed him and disposed of the body. I was wrong. He explained to me the depths of my error.
“How are you enjoying the facilities, Mr. Thomas?” he asked.
I didn’t bother to answer.
“I hope you’re finding them as pleasant as I found mine when you betrayed me. You should get used to them, Mr. Thomas, because this is where you will be spending the remainder of your short miserable life.”
The man was gloating. He’d become obsessed, apparently, with some sort of sick, twisted revenge fantasy, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
He beat the hell out of me, and left me alone to recover. He promised to return at frequent intervals, and I was back to my total darkness. The scene was repeated three times. Awakening from my drug-induced sleep, I heard sounds. In my fogged state, they were unidentifiable, but the door burst open, two men came in and dragged me out. I was black bagged, and another long ride in a vehicle ensued. At some point I lost consciousness, and the next time I awakened, I was in a nice bed.
My stay in the care of Azat had been on a concrete floor, and I luxuriated in the feel of the bed. I appeared to have lost a great deal of weight, but I also seemed to be clean, for the first time I could recall to memory. I heard a door open, footsteps crossing a hard floor, sounding like a woman wearing heels, and there she was. It was Fallon.
She had a tray with food on it, and she brought it to me, sitting on the bed beside me and feeding me. “Hello, Canton.” Her voice was still magical to me, and I felt such a sense of loss, that I had not heard it in so long, and contentment, that I was hearing it again. “I seem to have misplaced you for a while. I’ve missed you,” she said.
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