Candi’s Debt Read online

  Candi's Debt

  By

  Aubrey Cara

  Copyright © 2015 by Baronet Press. All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction, intended for adults.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously by the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  HANK

  Why I let my friend Wyatt talk me into going to an anti-freakin'-Valentine's Day party, I don’t know. But here I am, drinking warm beer out of a red solo cup, disgusted with myself as much as the beer. Everyone here looks so damn young. I’m only twenty-seven but this shit is making me feel ancient.

  And where the hell is Wyatt? Nowhere-to-be-fucking-found. That's where.

  Walking around the corner to the living room of the frat-like party house, I scan the smokey haze. The den of depravity is a crush of early twenty-somethings in every level of drunk and disorderly. Some kind of techno-pop shit is making my skull throb, and I wonder if I’m the only asshole here that hates it. Finally, I spot Wyatt in the corner. Or at least the top of the dickwad's dark head.

  Wyatt's face is buried in some brunette's tits. She in turn has her long limbs wrapped around his waist, her hands buried in his hair. From the looks of it, she is dry humping the bejesus out of the guy. My dick twinges in sympathy to the chafing that has to be occurring over there.

  Yeah, I doubt I’ll be missed if I duck out. I don’t have to check bro-code to know I’m free from any obligation to stick around. I’m exit bound and fighting the urge to face plant some shit in front of me as I elbow my way through the crowded space, to the front door. I’ve only been back in this crap town of Gibson, Texas for three days and I’m already sick of it.

  When I’d left at eighteen, I had sworn to myself I’d never come back here, but somehow I let myself get reeled back in. My old man called and promised me his shit bar, if I run it for a year. He’s been doing this once or twice a year ever since I got out of the military. This last time he called happened to be right after a friend asked me to come down and do him a favor. A favor that’s dependent on me looking like I’m just another local. So here I am, in bad memory lane near my dear old dad.

  Fuck, I’ve got to get over this shit or I’ll be in danger of being a pathetic piss ant with daddy issues. Hell, I’m feeling as played out as this party. I need to find the exit and somewhere to set down my now empty cup, not in that order.

  I’m halfway across the room when a girl in my path with a decent rack and marginal good looks scans me over. I know what she’s seeing. At 6'5”, with short cut red hair and beard, I have that lumberjack look chicks seem to be drooling over these days. Unlike most of the hipster metro boys rocking the look, I’ve actually spent time wielding an ax. Not encouraging, just acknowledging, I nod my head to the girl who is now practically eye-fucking me as I move past her. Normally I’d be game to seeing how the flirtation played out, but not tonight. I’ve been in a prickly bastard mood since setting foot on Texas soil.

  Just my luck, I finally make my way to the front hall of the house, and an arguing couple is blocking the fucking door. It looks like Ken and Barbie, having a spat.

  Barbie is a ten. Bombshell blonde, with legs that go on for miles, and a body that I’m positive every guy in here is picturing naked. I know I am. I’d bet money her nipples are blush pink, and she’s got a blonde little landing strip over her pussy. Fuck, she is a ten, all right. She even looks hot railing at her dipshit boyfriend. In other words, the kind of chick I’d do well to avoid.

  I don’t care for the pretty princess type of girls that rely solely on their looks. And by the looks of her all dolled up in a little black dress and hot pink heels, she is that kind of girl. Not to mention she obviously doesn’t have a lick of sense. Not if she’s with some guy that would take her to an anti-Valentine's Day party, on Valentine's.

  Young and dumb.

  I draw closer, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to get to the door without breaking up the lovers’ spat, and now I’m able to hear what she is yelling over this reject club music.

  “I can't believe I let you talk me into coming to this shitty party!”

  “Fuck you. Stop being such a dramatic bitch, Candi,” says douchebag Ken doll.

  I roll my eyes. Of freaking course this chick would have a name like Candi.

  “I'm ready to leave.”

  “No one's stoppin' you.”

  Well, Barbie certainly knows how to pick'em.

  “Ugh, are you high again? You promised me you wouldn't get high anymore!” she says, smacking the asshat with her flimsy little purse.

  “What's your deal? Are you still pissed I tried to fuck that stupid bitch you work with?”

  Barbie grabs her chest and stumbles back in shock like it’s a scene from a freaking Spanish soap opera. It’s Tele-freakin-mundo with southern accents. “That was you? Cody, how could you?!” She slaps ole Cody's face so hard he jerks, and he's starting to turn red. He looks pissed.

  I’m pretty sure shit’s about to go from bad to worse. I was about to go find another way out of this place, but now I feel obligated to stick around and make sure this jerkoff doesn’t do anything stupid.

  “You make me sick, Cody. I never want to see you again.”

  “Bitch,” Cody says as he shoves her to the ground, fist drawn. I take two steps forward, ready to block any hit this dipshit throws when suddenly the douchebag, Cody, is surrounded by friends, giving him the “hey man, calm down,” “be cool,” talk to defuse what was about to become a volatile scene.

  Where the hell were these assholes before?

  Sighing, I step over to help Barbie up off the floor and dust her off. “You okay?” I ask to be polite. I know she isn’t. She has tears streaming down her face, and her eye makeup is all messed up.

  She sniffs back her tears and grabs my hand. “Come on,” she says, tugging me along. Like an idiot, I let myself be led to the end of a hall where she opens a door to what appears to be a home office.

  I bite back a curse as she pulls me in behind her. This is what the hell I get for trying to be nice.

  “Look, um, I think there's been a misunderstanding—”

  “Do you have a car?” she asks, cutting me off.

  “What? Yeah, why?”

  “I need a ride to mine, but I need to sober up a little and stop crying,” she says this through a blubber of tears.

  I
drag in an aggravated breath, running a hand through my hair. I really don’t need this shit. And didn't this chick know better than to go off with fucking strangers? “Is there a friend I can call for you?” I ask, trying to be the voice of reason.

  She shakes her head and wraps her arms around my waist as she starts sobbing. Big, body wracking sobs shake her.

  She’s nice and tall, and all her curves hit me just right. Great, now I’m trying not to notice how luscious her body feels pressed up against mine. And it feels fucking amazing. I definitely don’t want to think on how good she smells. A touch of cigarette smoke and rum cling to her, but underneath that is a light, flowery perfume scent that has my pulse pounding.

  My dick twitches twice, and I try not to breathe too deeply.

  Shit, shit, shit. I really don’t need this. Rubbing her back I give her a “there, there,” wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. I’m not one to play the knight in shining freaking armor. This is a prime example of why I date hardass chicks that avoid emotional displays. Who needs a regular diet of this shit? That fact alone makes it even more shocking when I hear myself say, “I think there's a twenty-four-hour diner around here. Why don't we go get coffee and I'll take you to your car?”

  “Oh my god, thank you. That would be nice,” she says, patting my chest. “You're so nice. And sweet.” She moves in to kiss me and I jerk back a little. I’m hella attracted to her, but I’m not the kind of guy who takes advantage of the needy desperate women. Undeterred, this girl drops to her knees, working my belt buckle.

  For a moment I can’t move. I can barely breath, standing transfixed by the beautiful blonde on her knees undoing my fucking belt. Under different circumstances I'd find out how far she could take me. See how her luscious lips would look wrapped around my cock, but now—I give myself a mental slap. My mother was like her. A gorgeous whore. Who knows how many times this girl has 'thanked' men on her knees. I refuse to be like the men who had used my mother.

  Disgusted with myself by how much I want to let her do it, by how much I want to slide my dick to the back of her throat ‘til she chokes a little, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank back. “Whoa, did I say you could suck my dick?”

  I know it’s the wrong thing to say. I know it’s not even in the realm of being nice. But I’m beyond caring. I’m pissed she’s putting me in this situation in the first place. Still, it feels like I kicked a puppy when she pushes away from me and starts crying again.

  Fucking hell. Running a hand through my hair, I stomp to the door, only to turn back around and walk over to where she sits crouched against the wall, big silent tears tracking down her face.

  “Look. You're a pretty girl. You don't have to suck dick just because a guy's nice to you.”

  “Fuck you,” she spits, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

  “You're being childish.”

  “You're being childish,” she mocks, making a face as she lights her cigarette.

  I clench my jaw so hard my teeth hurt. I don’t even know why I’m still in this room. I need to walk right out that door and let her fend for herself. Instead I find myself crouched down in front of her, grabbing her chin to make her look up at me. “You want to repeat that?”

  She has the audacity to blow smoke in my face and kick me in the fucking shin.

  I grab the cigarette from her hand and smash it under my foot, not caring that it’s probably burning the carpet as I haul her up off the floor.

  “Hey!” is all she gets out as I pull the armless office chair over. In one move, I sit down and have her upended over my lap. One leg thrown over her kicking legs.

  “What are you doing?!”

  “Teaching you a lesson, princess.” I tear down her panties as I lift her skirt. Not even hesitating before I start to bring down the flat of my hand on her ass.

  “What?! NO!”

  The music outside the office door thumps in beat with my racing heart as she clutches my ankle, hollering up a storm. The sound drowns out the crack of my hand on her ass. I work her luscious globes over until they glow red and she stops fighting. Only then do I slow. Rubbing and slapping in a different cadence than before.

  Now that the angry haze of the moment has cleared, I can’t take my eyes off her little pink pussy on full display below her painted cheeks. Ho-ly Christ. Princess has porn pussy. Fucking high end, classy porn pussy. Completely devoid of hair, it looks perfect in every way. I can’t help but squeeze down on a rosy globe before giving it a sharp slap, again and again. When she starts squirming and moaning over my hard-as-nails aching cock I can’t stop myself from running my fingers over her perfect bare slit.

  Wet.

  So fucking wet I have to sink a finger inside her heat. Warm and tight.I can easily imagine what it would look like with her pussy lips stretched wide around my cock. Hell, what it would feel like.

  My cock pushes up against the fly of my jeans, loving where my thoughts are going. Pulling out, I circle her eager clit that’s peeking out at me, before pushing two fingers inside her.

  She rewards me with a gasp as she pushes her hips back on my hand. She clutches my leg even harder, digging her nails in. I hardly even notice as I watch her honey spill out of her a little more with every pump of my fingers into the tight clasp of the fucking hottest pussy I’ve ever experienced.

  “Is that what you like, princess?” Her eager mewls of pleasure let me know that it is. “That's right,” I say, feeling the tightening of her walls. “You're close aren't you?” Curling my fingers into the front of her cunt, I work it hard, feeling her beginning to tremble. “Don't fight it, baby girl. Come on daddy's fingers.”

  Her startled gasp rings out in the room even as she comes hard with a low moan. Her body arches as enough of her honey spills out to make a wet spot on my jeans. Jesus H. Her body bows again, a hoarse cry coming from her throat this time as her cunt contracts down on my finger so hard I nearly come in my pants.

  Still breathing hard she slides from my lap, standing up on shaky legs. When I move to steady her, she holds out a staying hand. “Whoa. No. I'm good,” she says. Her glazed over baby blues meet my eyes with a wary look as she pulls her pink lacy panties up. Snatching her purse off the floor, she stumbles to the door, not looking back at me.

  Shit.

  As quick as I can I plant my hand on the door right as she is about to open it. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, look. This was...interesting, but I think I'll find my own ride home.” She says this staring at the door. She sniffs loudly and I know she’s crying again.

  “Who the hell are you going to find to drive you home?”

  “I'm sure it won't be too hard,” she says swiping away the smudges of makeup under her eyes.

  For a moment I’d forgotten she was the same girl who was going to blow me just because I’d offered her a ride. The idea of her giving that same offer to some other asshole pisses me the hell off. “So you're going to take your chances with some other stranger?”

  “That was the idea,” she says, irritation evident in her tone.

  “Everyone out there is half in the bag,” I say, completely annoyed with myself as well as her.

  She shrugs.

  The rational part of my brain is telling me to let her effing go and be someone else's problem. I’m not feeling very rational though. My dick wants to pound its way through my jeans and I feel like punching a wall. “You gonna go give someone out there the same offer you gave me?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Tsk, tsk princess. That kind of talk will earn you another spanking,” I practically growl this in her ear, and delight in her shiver. I know I’m being an asshole but hell if I can stop it.

  She bites out, “I hate you.”

  “Good thing you don't have to like me to ride in my car.”

  “Get bent.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  She growls behind gritted teeth in indignation, stamping a foot. Hell if the move doe
sn’t make me want to push her against the door and fuck the sass out of her. She wants to kick me. I can see it in her eyes. “Why the hell won’t you just let me go?”

  “Because at some point this evening you decided to appoint me your white fucking knight. So, we're going to go out there, you're going to hop your pretty little ass into my car, and I'm going to drive you wherever the hell you need to go. Is that understood?”

  She turns to look at me with her arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth in a straight line. Her bright, blue eyes spitting fire. She nods once.

  Good enough. I take her hand in a firm grip, just in case she has any ideas of running off, and I lead her out through the party, still in full swing. Outside the air is crisp and cool. I’m tempted to ask if she's brought a coat, but if she answered with something stupid like “it hadn't gone with this outfit,” I’d be more than a little tempted to spank her again.

  Without a word she gets in my old 4Runner, uncomfortably shifting in her seat as she sits.

  Good. I hope she remembers tonight's spanking the next time she wants to wander off with a stranger. The thought of her doing just that makes my jaw clench. My dick still aches and I take the opportunity to adjust myself as I walk around the back of the vehicle.

  We haven’t gotten halfway down the road before she whines, “Do we have to listen to this?”

  I’d been listening to a hard rock station on my way to the party. I wave my hand. “By all means, princess. Listen to whatever the hell you want.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  She changes it to a freaking pop station and I roll my eyes. Katy Perry's song I Kissed A Girl comes on and I mentally sing, “I spanked a girl and I liked it.” And I had. It had been a long while since I really got to spank a chick.

  Most of the women I date are the independent, feminist types. They may like to play at submission in the sack on occasion but would slug first and ask questions later if I even thought about spanking them when my dick wasn't buried up to their eyeballs.

  It was damned frustrating for a man like myself. I glance over at Candi. She’s sitting primly with her hands in her lap, looking out the window. Her lips are pursed like she's just eaten something sour. I wonder if she's ever been spanked before. I’m guessing she hasn't by how surprised she seemed by the whole thing. Including how hard she'd gotten off with my dirty talk. It makes me wonder if she'd be the kind of girl that likes getting spanked in and out of the bedroom.