Chapter 32
Zeus
Three weeks of living like a racist.
Three weeks of robbing people, selling drugs to sad fucking souls at not just the one fucking house we set up, but the four houses Bobby has in operation in the area.
Three weeks of hints at trafficking women with no concrete evidence.
Three weeks of that special bell ringing out and watching Zayne happily walk away with Sable tucked under his arm.
Three weeks of drinking enough that I have a plausible reason not to fuck one of these women.
I scratch at my face, having let my beard take on a life of its own. The guys around here don't seem very focused on hygiene, but they haven't questioned why Zayne shaves every day either.
I'm agitated, feeling more than a little restless, and my fucking body aches from not sleeping well and abusing my fucking liver like I'll get another one once the fucking mission is over.
I stumble back toward our cabin, grateful my drinking and standoffish behavior have left most of the women afraid to even approach me.
Scott has been pairing up with Peaches the last couple of weeks, but they must've had a little lovers' spat because she went right toward that fucking Chris guy when they showed up tonight, ignoring Scott altogether.
Regina Banks hasn't once come to the fire pit, and it makes me wonder just how many other women have jobs around the compound and remain unseen at the gatherings.
I could convince myself to be grateful she hasn't had to be there, but I know better than to think she's safe in her absence.
I reach my hand out, about to grab the doorknob, when the sound reaches my ears.
I had let my mind convince me that Zayne wasn't lying, that he didn't mess with that girl that first night, and as true as that may have been, there's no way they've been spending time with each other so often for it not to have progressed.
Assuming what they've been doing and hearing it firsthand are two very different things.
"That right there," Zayne groans, the limited insulation in the cabin making it easy to hear what's going on inside. "Oh, fuck me, sweet girl. That's good."
"You like that?" she says, a certain edge of teasing in her tone.
"More than I should," Zayne responds. "But if you wanna play dirty, then I get to play dirty, too."
She squeals in delight, making me believe that she isn't exactly upset with what's happening inside.
"Oh," she whimpers. "That's what you need tonight?"
"You want it?"
"I want it so bad, Curtis. Can I have it? Please?"
"I want you to beg how you're supposed to beg," he chides, and the sound of his voice and those words makes my fucking skin crawl.
I got nothing more than fucking grunts and cum on my hand and in my mouth from this guy.
I shake my head, trying to rid it of the sounds I'm hearing now and every fucking memory lodged in there from what we've done together. Clearly, he isn't the man I thought I knew.
I had presumed the guy was fully gay, but I can't recall a time when he actually confirmed that fact.
"Please, Daddy? Give your baby girl exactly what she needs."
"God, it makes me want to fuck that sweet mouth every time you say that to me."
"Is that what Daddy needs?" she coos.
"Not right now, baby girl. Get on your hands and knees. Let me take care of what you need. Then you can take care of me."
"I feel like a winner, Daddy."
"Get your ass in the air. Let me see that sweet little hole of yours."
I swallow bile, forcing it back down my throat, a part of me wanting to turn around and leave, my heart aching in a way it never has before.
"That's it, baby girl. Show me what you got. Oh, that's a nice little pink hole. Are you ready?"
"Always ready for you, Daddy."
"Take it then," he says, earning a weird chuckle from her.
Jealousy threatens to get a chokehold on me, but anger that he could be fucking with her in the first place wins out.
I don't know which one decides to open the door, either the man who has never heard Zayne talk like that before, despite their interactions, or the one enraged that he'd take advantage of someone who is very likely a victim here.
What I see when I step inside is nothing that I could've ever imagined.
"What the fuck?" I growl.
"What?" Zayne snaps, glaring at me over his shoulder. "She likes getting fucked in the ass."
"So fucking good, Daddy," she moans. "Go deeper."
My mouth hangs open as they both look at me, paying no attention whatsoever to the cards in their hands or the stack on the floor in between them.
"Wanna join?" Zayne asks. "I bet she'd love to suck you off while she takes a dick in her ass."
I glance over at Sable, who seems to grow even more nervous the longer I stand there.
"I love two cocks at one time," she says, a pleading in her eyes.
Wordlessly, she's begging me to play along, and I know that if I don't, there's no telling what will happen to her.
"Deal," I say as I approach, relief as I've never known washing over me.
Zayne shuffles the cards from one hand to the other, but does not make a bridge with them because of the noise it would make.
"Harder, Daddy," Sable says, throwing me off a little because she's just sitting there waiting for her cards to be dealt.
"You'll get what I have to fucking give and be grateful for it," Zayne says as he passes out the cards.
When we each have the designated number of cards, he points to a spiral notebook with the words Blackjack written on it, a question mark beside it.
I realize it was written earlier, one of them asking the other if that's what they should play.
"Are you going to join in?" Zayne asks when I just stare between the two of them.
"Three is always better than one," Sable purrs as she taps the floor quietly in front of her, requesting another card.
"Aw fuck, baby," Zayne hisses when she makes twenty-one. "Just the idea of him putting that cock of his in your mouth makes you tighter."
"Fuck," I say, feeling all sorts of weird. I've never pretended to get a fake blowjob before. "You weren't lying about her mouth."
I look over at Sable, wondering what her real name is, and give her a nod when she looks at me with such relief and gratitude in her eyes.
"It only gets better," she says, making an ungodly slurping sound.
I scrunch my nose, but then smile when she giggles.
"Take that," I say when Zayne gives me another card, and I also get twenty-one.
"Fuck, man. I'm jealous," he says when he pulls a card and busts.
"Don't be jealous, Daddy," Sable says, a tease in her voice that makes me think she's been beating him all damn night. "You know you can have whatever you want from me."
I scrunch my nose once again at the way she calls him daddy, but he shrugs and points at her as if she's the one who fucking started it, and it has just continued.
"I want to leave you used up and ruined," he says, grinding his teeth when he turns over another card and it's an Ace.
"Yes, Daddy," she taunts. "That's what I want, too."
"Could you fill her throat, Lyle. So she can't talk?"
"Trying," I hiss when he gives me a fucking two. "She's just too fucking good. Gonna blow before she's even done."
We both stare at her. Twenty fucking one again.
"How's her ass?" I ask, glaring at her.
"In need of a fucking spanking from the looks of it. Do you like that, baby girl?" Zayne asks with the next hand, displaying a six in front of her.
She moans, and I swear, as weird as all of this is, if someone was listening, they'd really think this girl was getting fucked.
"I love it, Daddy," she says on another moan, a second six now in front of her.
She motions, something they must've come up with before now, and Zayne splits her cards.
"Give me more."
He slaps more cards on her split sixes, one hand getting her to fourteen and the other getting her to eleven.
"This may not work out the way you think it will," Zayne warns when she taps on the pair totaling eleven.
She glares at him, tapping softly again.
She hisses in displeasure when he flips over an eight, and I grunt in annoyance, also because that fucking would've given me twenty-one.
"You wanted it deeper," he teases. "Too much?"
"You're doing me so wrong, Daddy," she says. "I love it."
"That's my girl," he praises, his eyes locked right on mine. "Nothing like taking a big cock in your ass to make you feel better."
"Daddy," she pants, but he doesn't seem to pay her any mind.
"Keep that cock in your mouth, baby girl. Let my cousin blow his load into your throat."
My mouth hangs open a little bit, his eyes still holding mine hostage.
"Nothing like a cock deep in their ass to make a girl feel so good. Huh, Lyle?"
I lick my bottom lip, my cock getting heavy in my jeans.
"I'm gonna come," I warn, needing a fucking break before Sable gets suspicious at the way we're looking at each other. "Jesus, bitch. Suck harder. Fuck that's good, girl."
I grunt, wondering if the sound I make is actually how I really sound when I blow my load, and the way Zayne's eyes darken, it must be very similar.
"Oh, Daddy," Sable moans, looking down at another fucking twenty-one. "That's it. Give me more of that."
I don't think I've ever gotten horny playing fucking cards before.
"Play with that pussy, baby girl. Come on Daddy's cock," Zayne says, glaring at her when she smiles at him, another victory under her belt.
"Fuck back on Daddy's cock," he says, as he deals more cards, getting twenty-one and beating us both. "I know you like it. Work for it, baby. That's it."
"Daddy," she whimpers when she goes bust on the next hand.
"That's it, baby girl. Who's the best?"
"You are, Daddy. Always you. Fill me up, Daddy. I want you dripping from me all night."
Zayne grunts twice.
"I feel your cock pulsing inside of me," she says. "Oh, God. I don't want it to end."
"Shouldn't have such a tight ass," he tells her with a sad smile, and I know that's their cue to end the evening.
The man can say whatever he likes to her, treat her like a precious angel while he fucks her, but giving her any special attention after he comes would be suspicious. These women are tools to use and put away until they're needed again.
He can't make it look like he's building a relationship with her. That would only put her on the wrong radar. But he has to know that picking her over and over is going to make people start asking questions. Why choose the same woman every time when you have so many to choose from?
I fully understand now why he keeps going back to her. He may not get this with any of the other women. They'd likely rat him out, but he can't keep picking her.
I hate that I've avoided him for the last two weeks, only putting ourselves alone together in the cabin where we both know we can't speak freely.
Bobby has also split us up for a lot of things, no doubt playing the angle he expects will earn him our loyalty and break the familial ties we have with each other.
"Let's get you home, baby girl," he says, standing and offering her hand.
I wave at her, smiling when she waves back at me before leaving the cabin.
Zayne follows her, looking back at me and pointing to the notebook near my hip before stepping outside with her and closing the door behind them.
I don't know how to fucking feel right now. Everything I thought was happening hasn't been. Never in my wildest dreams did I even consider what I discovered tonight.
I lift the notebook, flipping back to the very first page, and start reading.
I can tell she was hesitant to give him any information at first.
He confided in her, confessing that he wasn't like the men here. Putting faith in her that his confession wouldn't get him killed, and only then did she give him a direct answer.
His block lettering: Are you here of your own free will?
Her pretty scripted scrawl: They're going to get suspicious if we don't have sex.
Him: I'm not going to have sex with you.
Her: You don't think I'm pretty?
Him: I'm not a mark, don't treat me as one.
Her: You're going to get me killed. Maybe we could pretend?
Him: Not a chance. I told you I'm not here to hurt you.
Her: Like with words and sounds, not actual actions.
Her: No one is going to believe that's the way you talk when you're horny. Do better.
Her: Better, but a little less, "do you like it?" and more "take it, bitch."
Him: I'm not calling you a bitch.
Her: You would if you were one of them...
Him: Are you here of your own free will?
She doesn't write her response, but the change in his words suggests she somehow answered him.
Him: It won't be much longer. I swear to you.
Her: They'll kill us both.
Him: Do you have proof of him murdering people?
I read on, noting that she knows that women are being held here like her against their will, but she never reaches the point of saying that she was abducted or trafficked, nor does she say that about the other women.
I feel like she thinks she can trust him, but hasn't let herself fully believe it yet.
I snap my eyes up when the door opens, realizing just how volatile it is for him to keep a written record of conversations with her. This place could be sifted through at any moment.
I hold the notebook up to him and mimic lighting a lighter under the corner edge. He dips his head, telling me he has plans to do just that.
"She's fucking perfect, man," he says as he walks across the room and pulls the notebook from my hands.
"Gives pretty decent head," I mutter.
I watch as he scribbles something on one of the pages.
Him: I'm going to have to expand. She doesn't have enough details to shut this fucking place down.
I pull the notebook from his hands after reading his words and write my own.
"Or she's fucking playing you?"
He reads it and shakes his head, but he doesn't take the notebook and argue with me.
I have to have faith in him that he knows what the fuck he's doing. He has been doing this for the better part of a decade, and with that experience comes the ability to read people.
The man knows what he's doing, and maybe I'm just a little jealous that he found a friend here when I've been spending my days doing grunt work and feeding the habits of junkies.