Hot Sex Stories Made Easy. Speedy Publishing
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“That’s what they are,” he argued defensively. “They said so themselves.”
“It doesn’t matter, we still don’t call them that. First of all, there are more polite terms than ‘hooker’,” she reprimanded, making a screwed up face as she spit out that word. “but it’s just not necessary to refer to them that way. You can’t know what those poor girls have been through, practically being held prisoner by that man and being forced to...”
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Anders muttered. “That wasn’t polite. His two girls, then. I mean, the girls, not his girls.” Everyone nodded thoughtfully, remembering how sickly and abused the two girls had looked when they showed up on the porch, refusing to come inside as they waited as though they knew they weren’t clean enough or good enough.
The girls in question, Emma and Dee, had snuck out of Mack’s bar and walked all the way from Hale, over an hour away by car, just to warn Casey and Miranda that her violent ex-boyfriend had tracked her down in Texas. When Mack discovered his two sources of additional income missing, word got back to him that the pair were holed up somewhere on the Carson’s property. At that moment, they were hidden safely in a cabin to the east, struggling against the addiction that had kept them chained to him, with the help of a retired counselor Bernard had sent to stay with them.
The sound of a loud bang followed by tinkling glass let them know that Crazy Mack was living up to his moniker by shooting out another of the first floor windows.
“Where is Sheriff Matthews?” One of the kitchen workers cried softly, putting her hands over her ears and closing her eyes. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?” The older housekeeper put her arm around the younger woman, shushing her soothingly and rocking slowly.
“Don’t worry, he’ll get here soon and handle this,” Anders promised her. He calculated the situation, then said, “Crazy Mack hasn’t come inside because he doesn’t know how many of us are still here. That’s why he’s standing in the yard, playing tough guy with that gun. He knows almost everyone is on the drive, including Dad. That’s why he hasn’t tried to come in. If he were to come inside, he knows that any of the six of us boys could still be here.”
“Then what’s he doing? What’s the point of this?” The housekeeper demanded pleadingly as another window took a hit. She threw her hands over her ears and closed her eyes tightly.
“He’s just showing his muscle, trying to frighten the…girls…because he thinks they’re here. Plus, he knows we’ll let Dad know about this, and maybe get him to head home. Everyone in town knows the drive was started, and everyone also knows Dad never misses it. Mack is just putting on a show and making himself feel better. He has to feel like he did something about this.”
Within minutes, Anders held a finger to his lips to caution the seven of them not to make a sound. He heard a sound in the distance, growing louder as it came closer. Finally, the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air rhythmically caused him to smile.
“See? The sheriff is here so this’ll be cleared up soon. Nothing to worry about.” Anders strained to listen for any noise, but couldn’t hear anything from within the interior, other than the sound of frightened people struggling to breathe quietly.
When a knock finally sounded on the front door, no one moved. It wasn’t until the visitor announced his presence as part of the sheriff’s department that they felt safe enough to come out of hiding, walking slowly together in a huddle toward the door, stepping over broken glass as they walked.
When Anders reached a hand out towards the doorknob, the elderly head housekeeper moved to stop him. “You might be the only Carson and the only male around, but I’m still the oldest and I’m responsible for you. I could never forgive myself if I let your mother down by letting something happen to you. Now, step back, young man.” She pushed Anders lightly, nodding when Amanda threw an arm around his young shoulders. The housekeeper silently counted to three while she watched the scared faces of the others, then opened the door a crack. She threw it open wide when she saw the deputy, barely older than Anders, pulling him inside and grabbing him in a bear hug.
“Thank God you’re finally here! He’s a lunatic!” She cried, pointing to the living room floor and the windows. “Look at what he’s done!” The deputy nodded and began writing things in a small black notebook, shaking his head when all of the staff began talking at once.
“Where’s the sheriff?” Amanda asked, looking over the deputy’s shoulder like that would explain his absence. “Crazy Mack comes out here shooting at us, and Matthews sends a kid to save us?”
The deputy wasn’t even old enough to be offended by the remark. He began trying to explain that the sheriff was going to take the helicopter and try to locate the shooter, and that the deputy would spend the night out there with them.
“I’ll be outside, walking patrol around the place. Don’t worry, we’re going to take good care of you,” he assured them, but the expressions on their faces said they clearly didn’t feel all that protected. They looked at each other, the housekeeper grumbling about how they’d need to stay in the kitchen because they only had Deputy Diaper Pants to protect them. That remark finally hit home, causing the young officer to blush a beet red. They turned away and went back in the kitchen to spend a sleepless night on its cold floor.
Chapter Seven
Carey laid on his back in his sleeping bag, his hands behind his head as he looked up at the stars. These were the same stars he saw every night on the wide, unbroken expanse of sky back home, but there was always something magical about seeing them on the drive. It was times like this when he understood his dad’s love of the old style cattle drive, the way he felt connected to all the generations of Carsons who’d worked this ranch before him. It was easy to forget what it was like for those cowboys, the days of hauling water and cooking all of the meals over a fire in the yard having long since been replaced by modern conveniences.
He usually had no trouble sleeping on a drive, even on the hard surface beneath the grassy area, because the days of backbreaking work and spending hours in the saddle tended to make anyone pass out before hitting the ground. But something was different this time, and it wasn’t just missing his brother, Casey. He knew it had to be that girl, and he knew that was dangerous ground. She’d be returning to her real life in a couple days, so what was the point in getting closer to her?
But the way she’d felt when he kissed her, shy but wanting, wasn’t a feeling Carey could easily forget. He’d been too surprised and too respectful to move past anything other than that kiss but the scent of her, the feel of her smooth skin beneath his hands, weren’t sensations he was likely to forget any time soon.
You just have romance on the brain since Dad started his pet project, Carey told himself. You’re here to work, not to hook up with a girl who came out here to find herself for a week.
As if even fate was working against him, Carey was startled by a rustling noise nearby. He turned his head to find the source of the sound, but couldn’t make out anything in the dark of the moonless night. Finally, the rustling grew closer and a warm hand reached out to touch his bare shoulder.
“Shhh, it’s only me,” Amy whispered, leaning close enough to him that he caught the wonderful scent of her as her loose hair brushed his skin. He reached up and pulled her closer, cradling her to him as his mouth found hers.
“What are you doing here?” he asked finally, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered to her.
“I’m doing what you said,” she answered in a confident whisper. “I’m letting you know what I want, and hoping you want the same thing.” Carey could practically hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. He quietly unzipped his sleeping bag and let her slip in with him, pulling the thick fabric around their shoulders as he cradled her close to his chest.
“I know what I want,” Carey replied in a husky voice, thick with want and emotion, but spoken so softly as to not call attention to them. “But