Vivi Anna - Alluring Tales

With a trembling hand, Sangria reached over and pulled the gag out from between his full lips.

He sighed. “Oh thank God.” He moved his mouth open and closed, stretching out, what she assumed, were cramped jaw muscles.

“Who are you?” she asked, shock slowly creeping over her.

“Vance Verona.” He raised his bound hands behind him. “Can you cut these, please?”

“What-” She paused, rubbing a hand over her face in frustration, and then started again. “Why…what the fuck is going on?”

“I have a one-way ticket to the Blue Room district in Vegas,” he explained as he tried to pull apart the ropes binding his hands. “I’m a sex worker. Usually I entertain the most powerful women in the country, but I must have pissed someone off.”

“Do you think?”

Chuckling, he continued to squirm, jarring his shoulders back and forth trying to free his hands. “I do believe Lady Maxine Madison is mad at me.”

Gasping, Sangria made a grab for his gag. “No, no, no. Stop fucking talking.” He moved his head, but wasn’t quick enough. She shoved the cloth back between his lips and scrambled to her feet.

She marched back to her vehicle, mumbling under her breath. This could not be happening. The man did not say what she thought he did. He must have been mistaken. There was no way in hell that the First Lady, Maxine Madison, was involved in the sex industry.

Crawling back into the Hummer, Sangria slid into the front seat and turned the ignition. Nothing. The engine wouldn’t turn over. She tried repeatedly, to no avail.

“Fuck!” She banged the steering wheel with her fist. The situation was getting worse by the second. And she had no idea what to do about it. She didn’t have the contact’s number, and even if she did, using it might not be the wisest course of action, if she wanted to stay alive. She had broken her number one rule, and the only thing that could get her killed…she had seen what was inside the package.

Glancing in her side mirror, she could still see him on the ground near the case. He had ceased his futile efforts to release his hands and was just lying there staring toward the vehicle. Sighing, she glanced toward the road. So far, no other vehicles had stopped to inspect the accident. Didn’t surprise her, not in this day and age. No one stopped for anything.

However, it wouldn’t be long before her smashed-up vehicle attracted attention from the law. Unwanted attention that could get her killed.

She crawled into the back of the vehicle and lifted another hidden door in the floor. Pulling out a black bag, Sangria unzipped it and took inventory. She had her passport, some clothes, a roll of cash, a first-aid kit, and a gun. All the things she packed in case of emergencies. This was definitely one of those times.

Reaching over the passenger seat, she started grabbing the items spilled from her glove compartment and shoved them into the bag as well. When she was finished, she took a cloth rag and wiped down every inch of the vehicle, erasing her fingerprints. She took the moneybag and her pack, and jumped out of the vehicle. Bending down, she used her pocket screwdriver to take off the license plate. She shoved that into her bag too. It wouldn’t keep her hidden for long, but at least it was a start.

Marching back to the package, Sangria knew without a doubt that she was going on the run. There was no other way to avoid the inevitable. No matter her excuses, Ms. Madison would not keep her alive. She had seen too much. By accident mind you, but still she didn’t think the First Lady was going to care much about that. Her position was much too powerful and influential to have Sangria running around with the knowledge of her involvement in illegal sex trading.

Staring down at the cargo, she took in his handsome face and lean sculpted body. He had obviously been taken from his bed as he wore only a pair of black silk boxer shorts. Disheveled dark hair curled around his ears and hung over his forehead, covering one of his beautiful blue eyes. He was indeed exquisite to look at. He had probably been one of Ms. Madison’s prized studs.

Maybe I should leave him here. The thought crossed her mind then fled just as quickly. It didn’t matter anymore. She was a dead woman. She might as well have company along the way.

Using the pocketknife she had strapped to her ankle, Sangria cut through his ropes at his wrists and his ankles. Breaking free, he quickly sat up and pulled the gag out of his mouth.

“I thought you were going to leave me,” he sputtered.

“I thought about it.” She slung the moneybag over her shoulder. “Can you walk?” She held out her hand to him and pulled him up.

Standing, he flexed both his legs, rotated his shoulders, and then nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to have a t-shirt in that bag would you? I’m feeling a little vulnerable right now.” He splayed his arms out, indicating his bare chest. He didn’t need to do that for her to notice. He was the kind of man that all women noticed.

She unzipped the bag, and tossed him one of her tank tops. “I didn’t think that would bother you.”

Smirking, he yanked the shirt over his head and pulled it down over the straining muscles of his chest. “Why? Because women pay me to service them?” The shirt was tight and clung to every ridge and ripple he had. Smiling he cocked his head. “Honey, that just means I’m good at what I do. It doesn’t mean I don’t have any humility.”

“Sorry,” she said grudgingly.

He shrugged. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan is to get the fuck out of here and stay alive. Valley Wells Station is just over that rise. I know of a little shack we can hold up in. Then we split up. The rest is up to you, cowboy. You’ll be a free agent.”

With that, Sangria turned and walked toward the road, not caring whether he followed or not. She wasn’t any good with other people. She’d been alone for most of her life. She liked it that way. Fewer attachments, less complications.

But as he moved in next to her and matched her stride for stride, she felt a strange feeling of comfort wash over her. She was almost elated to have a companion. An emotion she couldn’t recollect ever experiencing.

The shack barely lived up to its name.

There were four wooden walls, dilapidated but still intact, a single lumpy mattress with surprisingly clean sheets on the dirty floor, a cracked linoleum table with one equally crumbling chair, and a bathroom, consisting of a toilet sans lid, and a shower stall without a door. The amazing thing was, the place had running water.

Sangria tossed her bag onto the floor and sat with an exhausted sigh on the chair. In the throes of lust, an old lover had told her about this place. He had been a gunrunner and had used the place years ago when he had to disappear for a few weeks. He had invited her along. She had refused. And that was the last time she’d ever heard from him. She wondered how long he lasted out here, with his big mouth that couldn’t keep his own secrets.

Vance glanced around the room and grimaced. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s for one night. You’ll live.” Rotating her shoulder, she realized how stiff and sore she was. And that she’d forgotten about the big gash in her side. If she didn’t look after it, it would get infected.

Vance must have noticed her wince, because he came to her side and touched her arm. “You’re hurt.”

She flinched from him and stood. “I’m fine. I just need to wash it and bandage it up.”

“I have first aid skills.”

She glanced at him, her brow lifted in question.

Lifting his shirt, he said, “I had a client who liked it rough.” He drew his finger over a small scar on his abdomen. “I stitched it up myself.”

Although his voice was cool, she could see the emotion in his eyes. They flared like blue flame when he spoke. The man had obviously suffered.

“I’m fine.” She turned and marched into the bathroom, shutting the broken door behind her. It creaked and groaned as it moved, and didn’t completely close, but it would have to do.

Stripping off her clothes, Sangria reached for the shower taps and turned on the water. To her surprise, the water came out hot and relatively clean. She stepped into the stall and submerged her head under the spray. The water felt heavenly sluicing down her skin. Lifting her arm, she moved to the side to allow the cleansing effects of the water flow over her wound. Pain immediately seared through her, but soon healing warmth spread over her. Minus the blood, the cut didn’t look too tragic. Nothing a bandage and time wouldn’t heal.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the hot water playing over her body. It was then that she felt the gentle scrape of a sponge on her back.

Jolting, she turned quickly and nearly collided with Vance, who was naked and trying to rub her back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she spurted.

“Washing your back.”

“Get out,” she demanded, trying to cover herself and look indignant.

“Let me do this, please. You freed me. I need to pay you back.”

She stared at him and noticed the emotions swimming in his eyes. She couldn’t imagine what his life must have been like. And to be shoved in a case and transported to another city like chattel…she could just imagine the humiliation he must be feeling.

“Fine,” she conceded. “But it’s just washing.”

He smiled and his eyes danced with mischief. “Hey, I’m a professional, remember? I’m not even aroused. See?” He tilted his head down.

Sangria followed his gaze to his cock. Even flaccid, he was well endowed. Tingles of desire spread over her thighs as she stared at him. His hand moved over to his cock and he wrapped his palm around it sensuously while she watched.

“Like what you see?”

Her head snapped up and she met his smoldering gaze. “Maybe.”

With his hand still on his member, Vance took a step forward. “I’m very good at more than washing, honey.”

“Don’t call me honey.”

“Well what should I call you? You never gave me your name.”

Suddenly, Sangria felt ashamed. Not because she was naked, standing in a shower stall with an equally naked stranger, but because she’d been rude to him from the get go. She could feel her cheeks redden, and she hated that. No one ever made her feel embarrassed before.

“Sangria.” She averted her gaze. “My name is Sangria.”

“A beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman.”

Raising her eyes, she caught his saucy grin and the way he looked at her with a promise of something swirling in the bright blue depths. “Keep your flirtations to yourself. I’m not one of your clients.”

His grin never faltered as he spoke. “Turn around, Sangria. I’ll wash your back.”

Cautiously she turned, giving him her back. She hated that her name on his lips gave her pleasure. A warm tingling sensation started deep in her belly as he touched her on the nape of the neck with the sponge. With slow firm circles, he made his way over her lean muscled flesh. Sighing, she let her head fall forward and enjoyed his attentions. Past the point of stress and uncertainty, she was surprised that her brain could still function. If she could let go for a little while and revel in this pleasure, she would. For she didn’t know when she would ever get another chance.

As Vance neared her ass, her pussy started to purr in delight. Without thinking, she spread her legs apart to ease the ache. It had been a long time since she felt desire. Her last lover had been almost a year ago, and then he hadn’t been that memorable. A porn video and a vibrator would have been more inspiring.

When she heard a groan of appreciation, Sangria glanced over her shoulder at Vance. He was grinning again, but this time there was no humor in his eyes, just brazen lust.

“You have an amazing ass.”

“I told you to save your words.”

Shaking his head, he stared down at her rounded flesh. “I can’t help it, Sangria, this is the firmest, most delectable ass I have ever come in contact with.”

She laughed then. He sounded sincere as he gazed at her backside. But when he lifted his gaze to hers, her grin faded. She could see the desire in his eyes, pacing like a caged animal eager to escape and hunt. She swallowed hard as he leaned into her, resting his sensuous lips beside her earlobe and whispered. “I want to lick your flesh. Allow me to pleasure you.”

She nearly moaned as his lips tickled the sensitive skin on her ear. She’d never been with anyone eager to please her. Deep down she knew that he was a professional, that he was trained in the art of seduction, trained on how to make a woman feel desired, lusted after. But she didn’t care. For once, she would take what was offered without question, without a thought of reciprocation. She would take what he offered her, selfishly.