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  Amy tried to wrap her legs around Camden’s waist, lean and narrow without a speck of fat. But her legs were more tired than she realized, her whole body crying out to be released, to fade away into sleep or death or anything other than more of what she was getting.

  Yet she craved more anyway. She wanted Camden to keep fucking her until she passed out, and she was very nearly there.

  Amy felt like she was being torn apart and compressed at the same time. That massive cock spiked her hard, legs spread as far as they could be, locked around the small of his naked back. She went dizzy, no room in her body for breath, lungs pressed empty, heart struggling just to manage a few last beats.

  She cried out, a wordless bellow of surrender, the last of her energy spilling out of her body. There was no room for anything else, there was his cock, her pussy, her orgasm, and nothing more. Her eyesight went dim, ears a dull throb, legs falling away from Camden’s hips as she collapsed into his arms, her face in the nape of his neck as she wept tears. Her emotions breaking free like a powerful ocean wave crashing down.

  Chapter 12

  Amy

  Amy woke from a sound sleep with the morning haze heavy in the air. Her body was exhausted, limbs strained and aching. She smiled, realizing her arms were wrapped around this gorgeous man all night long. She released her grip from his warm body. There was a peaceful expression on his handsome face, his massive and muscular chest peeking out from the sheets. She looked around, taking a minute to gather herself and get used to her surroundings.

  She hadn’t had the opportunity to take in the cabin upon her feverish and fantastical arrival, and the hours she spent lovemaking, both psychological and then physical, had swept her away entirely. But after a bit of rest and in the calm of the dawn, beautiful morning light spilling in through the windows, Amy could finally digest what kind of place their little kidnap shack truly was.

  Somewhere in Amy’s rampaging imagination the night before, she thought of it as a decrepit old cabin, bare light bulb swinging, ratty old mattress on the floor. But the structure was actually an authentic log cabin, a large stone fireplace dominating one wall. There was an adjoining kitchen, several windows with lovely floral drapes, nicely polished hardwood floors. Even the bed was quite lavish, much higher off the floor than she remembered, with a thick wooden frame that struck Amy as being, like most of the place, hand-carved.

  It was so rustic and charming, Amy couldn't help be struck by the warmth of the place, the woodsy welcome it seemed to offer. It was unlike the Dey Mansion in every way; small, cozy, without a trace of ostentatiousness. Just the necessities, because everything else was just unnecessary. Something about it spoke to Amy, to something inside her she’d been searching for since her father’s death. She’d been a bird in a gilded cage, and now she was perched in a nice little nest up on a mountain, far from the greed and the fakery of Los Angeles, the Golden Ghetto.

  “You like it?”

  Amy turned quickly, surprised by Camden’s voice though it was low and soft beneath her. She gasped, then broke a little smile to release a relieved sigh. “Oh, sorry.” she said, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  He smiled, eyes combing her face, her body against his as his large hand rested on her hip. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “Slept like a rock, actually. What time is it?”

  Camden glanced around. “About dawn, I’d say. I guess it’s time to get you back.”

  “Wait, what?” Amy answered a little too quickly, but by the time it struck her, she no longer cared. “I get a whole day, right? But you didn’t grab me ’til, like, noon or something.”

  “We’ve still got to make the drive back into town. It’ll time out just about right.” Amy couldn’t disguise her disappointment, but she instantly had to reprimand herself.

  Don’t be so childish, Amy’s conscience had to chide her. This was fun, but it wasn't meant to last forever!

  So Amy forced a smile. “Well, we can at least lay here a while, right? I … we never even introduced ourselves.”

  “You already know my name,” Camden said, “Ms. McBride told me you requested to know it.”

  “Is … is it your real name?”

  Camden nodded. “Camden Kalan. But your name isn’t really Amy Deacon.”

  Amy rolled her eyes with a guilty smile. “It’s Amy, that part’s true. I guess my last name is kind of … sensitive.”

  “Okay, I’ll respect that.” He smiled.

  Amy let those words sink into her head and her heart. “You will, won’t you? I mean, you’re really quite a respectful, considerate person, considering … what you do.”

  “What do I do?”

  Amy was a bit stumped by his confusion. She knew he was drawing her in, that he wasn’t as confused as he wanted to appear. So Amy just shrugged and looked at him, naked in the bed with her, the cabin around them. “Well, you know … this!”

  “Longshadows,” Camden said. Amy nodded, but Camden just relaxed in the pillow. “It’s a pretty great gig, tell you the truth.”

  “And that’s all I am, just another gig?”

  Camden propped himself up to look down at Amy like some conquering hero, strong and confident, his fingers tracing her naked arm and shoulder. “Love will always uncover the truth.”

  Amy was struck by the poetic subtlety of it, the simple purity of it. But it only made Amy want to know more, about this complex and thoughtful man, so powerful and yet so reflective and seemingly even vulnerable. Amy wanted to find that vulnerability and to use it to get even closer to him, as close as she could be and then even closer still.

  A few knocks fell on the door, shattering their sexy silence, the bubble of seclusion that Amy was savoring so much. Amy instantly wondered, Who could that be? One of my brothers? Did they follow me, or trick Isla into telling them the truth? But how could they know I’d be way out here?

  More knocks on the door drew Camden out of the bed. Not content to lay there like some waiting sex slave, Amy pulled her T-shirt on while he pulled up his boxers and they crossed to the door.

  Without opening the door, Camden asked in a deep, aggressive voice, “Who is it?” The sternness of his command reminded her that neither of them knew who could be on the other side of that door. Maybe a sex-crazed drug clan like the Manson Family? Do people like that still exist?

  But Amy’s stern, inner-self spat back in her mind’s ear, Of course they do, and even worse!

  Amy couldn’t make out the voices on the other side of the door. When Camden peeked out the window next to the door, pulling the floral drapes back, Amy could see that they appeared to be two hunters, middle-aged men in camouflage jumpsuits, orange vests, packs and rifles and friendly smiles.

  Still, Amy thought, they could be militia, who knows? They’re everywhere these days, especially up here in the hills.

  But Camden gave Amy a reassuring nod and positioned her behind him as he opened the door. The hinges creaked just a bit as he and Amy peered out the six-inch opening in the doorway.

  “Um, howdy folks,” one hunter said, taller and a bit heavier than the other. “You just came up to the mountain, did ‘ja?”

  Camden gave that some thought before he answered. “Yesterday. Why?”

  The smaller hunter let out an awkward chuckle. “We hiked up past here yesterday, didn’t see the van.” Camden nodded but said nothing, Amy almost hiding behind him. The hunter went on, “We’re just on our way down, headin’ home.”

  “Best of luck to you both,” Camden said, preparing to close the door.

  The hunters nodded, smiling and broad-bodied, a couple of middle-aged pals squeezing the last bit of macho out of their washed-out lives. “We just thought we’d let you know there’s a big bear out here somewhere, been harassing the locals. We didn’t find her, but she’s a big one. She comes around, you two be ready.”

  “We won’t be here long,” Camden assured them.

  Amy told the hunters, “T
hanks for the warning though, we’ll keep an eye out.”

  They nodded and exchanged a knowing look. But Amy could only smile. They don’t know the half of it!

  The taller hunter said, “All right then, you two take care now.” They stepped away and Camden closed the door, turning to Amy, alone again.

  They stood facing each other, the chemistry palpable between them. A warmth in his eyes that told her, he was holding back. There was so much Amy wanted to say, to confess, so much she wanted to know and do that it all gathered up in her heart and in her throat and ultimately she couldn’t say anything at all.

  Finally Camden had clear his throat and glance at their clothes, most of them still strewn across the floor. “Time for us to head back too, I suppose.”

  “Yeah,” she said, slowly turning to collect her own pants and shoes. “I guess so.”

  They collected their clothes, Amy taking the time to peel the sheets off the bed and clump them in the back of the cabin. They locked the place up and walked solemnly, quietly to the van, climbed in, and started the long drive back to Los Angeles.

  Amy couldn’t disguise her solemnity, and Camden couldn’t help but pick up on it. Finally, he turned to her with a gentle smile, black hair falling down over his gorgeous face. “Are you all right?”

  Amy tried to shake it off, suddenly aware that she was engrossed in her own reflection. “Oh, no, I’m …I’m fine, a little tired, I guess.”

  He smiled again, a trace of satisfaction on his face. “Was that your first time?”

  First time? Amy thought. But she knew that he wasn’t referring to her virginity, but to her newly broadened horizons. And she knew the only answer she could give would have to be truthful. He’d know if she was lying, she knew that. But for some reason Amy couldn’t bring herself to say it, to let the words fall out of her mouth. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just say, God I loved it, and I want it again … and again and again and again. Tie me up, fuck me silly, whisk me away to some isolated spot where it’s just us and nobody else; no family, no money, no nothing.

  Just us.

  But Amy knew she couldn’t say such a thing, or even harbor such a fantasy, even as she found it harder and harder to help herself. So she simply nodded, eyes fixed on her lap, nervous to meet his.

  Camden asked, “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

  Everything I hoped? Amy silently repeated. It was so much more, I didn’t even know what to expect but I’ll never forget it. Nothing before makes any sense or any difference to me anymore. Expectations? That was then, this is now!

  But Amy’s demure instincts quieted her lusty outburst. So she said only, “Um, yeah, it was … yeah.”

  But Camden looked over, his handsome face bending into an incredulous expression, one brow raising. “You’re not … upset or disappointed or … or offended?”

  “No, Camden, God no, I … I just meant, um, it was … um, more than I can describe.”

  He glanced into the rearview mirror. “That’s good to know. Tell you the truth, it was … it was different for me. I probably shouldn’t even say that.”

  “No, it’s … it’s okay,” Amy said, once again calming herself, “go ahead, I’m … curious.”

  “It’s not easy, being an actor. But one thing you come to recognize in that business is bullshit. Most people, especially actors, they’re chalk-full of it. But not you, Amy. You seem to me to be … I don’t know, unblemished somehow, pure, truthful.”

  Amy blushed and shrugged. “I can only be what I am. I only wish I knew what that was.” This captured Camden’s attention and piqued his curiosity. She went on, “I feel like I haven’t had the chance to find out for myself, ya know? My family, they’re great in their way, but … they’re so bent on protecting me, providing for me, that I feel like I can’t protect myself or provide for myself. That’s no way to be. My brother Danny doesn’t mind, he even seems to like it. But I want more, I want to be more.”

  “And you can be,” Camden said genuinely, “you can be whatever or whoever you want to be, Amy. That’s what my life’s been about, I suppose. I wanted so much to be an actor, and tried my damnedest, I gotta say. But L.A. is tough. Everyone’s so young and talented and gorgeous; everybody’s everything, basically. How can anybody compete against that? It’s lucky Tia McBride found me, or I’d be back in Phoenix bagging groceries.”

  Amy couldn’t help but chuckle and wave him off. “I guess Campbell was right.” Off her confusion, he said, “Joseph Campbell.”

  “I know him, Hero of a Thousand Faces.” Amy beamed.

  “Right, excellent. He said, ‘We have to let go of the life we have to have the life we want.”

  Amy smiled, thinking about her own past and her own future, her own life, her own lives. “Smart man,” she said.

  Chapter 13

  Amy

  Isla wasn’t the only one who couldn’t disguise her own smile. “I won’t even ask how it went,” she said, handing Amy a crisp glass of Chardonnay, bustling West Hollywood stretched out beyond the big living room window.

  “Maybe you should ask how long?” Both young women broke up in a cackle of sexual mischief.

  “It was that good, huh?” Amy shook her head and took a sip of cool white wine just to collect her thoughts, and even then she couldn’t. Instead of waiting, Isla said, “I told you.”

  “Hey, when you’re right, you’re right.” Amy raised her glass and Isla did the same, the two crystals clinking. “Sssooooooo right. Can’t wait to do it again.”

  “What? You’re kidding!”

  “Why not? He was … I have to see him again, Isla.”

  Isla’s big, dark eyes got even bigger and even darker. “He? You don’t mean you’re crushing on this guy?” But once glance at Amy’s guilty grin told Isla everything she needed to know. “Amy, this was a … a set up thing; you get that, right?”

  “Of course I do, Isla. C’mon!”

  “No, Amy, you c’mon. I know that look in your eye. And if I can see it, what do you think The Munsters are gonna say?”

  Amy waved her off and enjoyed another sip of cold white wine. “You only know because, well, you know. But they’ll just think I’m just me being me.”

  Isla leaned back and took a sip from her own glass, one eyebrow raised as she fixed her glare on Amy. “I guess. But do you really think this guy can be … the one? He is a service provider after all!”

  “He’s an actor, Isla.”

  “Like I said … ”

  “Isla, it isn’t like that. He’s … I dunno, we made a connection.”

  “Of course you did,” Isla said. “And now you want to see him again.” Isla shook her head and sat down next to Amy, leaning against her with a warm nudge. “Amy, you know how waitresses flirt with the guys who pay the check?” Amy had to nod. “It’s just that, it’s part of the job … but you gotta know it’s nothing more. He’s building up a roster, flirting for tips. And hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. It’s fine; it’s awesome, even. We’ve been doing it for so long, I’m kinda glad to see someone on the other team grabbing a little ass and banking a little coin, y’know?” They shared a friendly chuckle before Isla went on, “But I don’t wanna see you lose your head either.”

  Amy let out a big sigh, “Isla, this was your idea!”

  “And it was a great idea! But it’s not a dating service, I don’t think.” Isla seemed to give it some thought before saying, “Maybe you should do another kind of thing?”

  Amy could hardly fathom. “More? Like what, have myself thrown out of an airplane?”

  Isla chuckled a little. “Like a black guy maybe … or a woman? Who knows? Now that you’re trying new things, you should keep at it.”

  “No,” Amy answered without needing to give it another thought. “It’s not just the thing, the event. I mean, it was great, but …” Shaking her head, staring into what Amy knew was the face of her future, handsome and cloaked in long, black hair, she said to
Isla as much as to herself, “No … it’s him, it’s got to be him.”

  Amy felt like she was floating on air. Even the Dey mansion compound seemed like the paradise her father surely had envisioned it to be. A private Garden of Eden, a carnival of delights. She’d forgotten how beautiful the pools were, purple lights shooting up through the palm trees and ferns, the stone grotto a private enclave for moments of secretive public sex. Amy almost giggled to think about how many of her so-called friends had used the grotto, and the fact that she’d never used it at all.

  Maybe soon, Amy imagined, picturing herself and Camden in that stony wet darkness, indulging in a secret, passionate tryst, escaping reality together.

  Amy suddenly looked around, blushing and glad that nobody was around to see it.

  “Buenos Dias, Miss Amy.”

  Well, almost nobody.

  Rosa came waddling out into the backyard, her beady brown eyes fixed on Amy’s glistening blues. She smiled at Amy, even giggling with herself as if she knew a secret, a secret about Amy.

  “Rosa,” Amy said, “how’re you doing?”

  “I’m all right,” she said, “but not as good as you, I don’t think.” Amy tried not to reveal anything of what she was thinking, but she’d known Rosa for fifteen years, Rosa had practically raised her. So lying to her was a tall order, if not impossible.

  “I’m okay,” Amy said, “nothing special.”

  Rosa smiled. “Nobody special?”

  Amy and Rosa stared each other down, then burst out in a little laugh. “I can’t say anything about it,” Amy said, adding, “about him, I mean.”

  “Him? It?” Rosa pressed.

  “Nothing, it’s nothing,” Amy said, “I just mean, you know, it’s turning into a thing … maybe … I dunno. Just … nothing, it’s nothing.”