Landon wiped the fog from the mirror and leaned closer, focusing on the well-healed areas from his most recent surgery and then stepped back, studying his face from different angles.
Dr. Atman had done an exceptional job. The scar tissue had been reduced to almost nothing and the lines where the grafts met his skin were faint, almost unnoticeable. The work had been minimal by most standards, but effective.
Without the red-tinged contours mapping his face, Landon could now imagine his father in the reflection. At least the man he imagined him to be, with the same hazel eyes and curly black hair. Landon's vision of him had mutated over the years, morphing to suit his current level of depression. At times those features were handsome, pleasant and kind. At other times they were demonic and unnerving. Even as a grown man, Landon's comfort rested in the small hope that his father was blissfully ignorant of his existence, smiling through life, unaware. It was the one thought that both tethered him to the past, and gave him hope that his birth wasn't merely a blip in God's grand plan.
Would anyone who had a father, even an absent one, understand the enormous piece of your identity that's missing when that one line on the official record of your birth is blank? Would they know how that simple, tiny space would grow to an endless abyss, to be filled with imagination and wasted love?
Had he left because of the woman his mother was? Or did his departure create the monster that destroyed not just his soul, but his flesh? Landon pushed the thought away. Knowing nothing of his father, except the anecdotes his mind create, he knew a little of his mother. Fragments of conversations overheard through his youth when the social workers and foster parents thought he was too young to understand or too preoccupied to pay attention.
Even if it had been his father's departure that had set her on her wayward path, motherly love hadn't been persuasive enough to bring her back. Such as it was, she destroyed everything that stood in her way, including her child.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, Landon ignored the water dripping down the contours of his muscles, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the hardwood floor as he walked to his bed and sat down. He laid back, his wet body mingling with the cool silk sheets and his flesh pimpled with goose bumps. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, letting the tension seep from him. All the years in therapy had given him a multitude of coping mechanisms, but his favorite lately was visions of Kennadie.
Everything about her was soft, warm and inviting; her body, her voice. The way she'd given herself over to Landon had made him feel like the master of her universe and the feeling was powerful, consuming. It had been an aphrodisiac in itself.
He wondered what her life was like, why she had started working for Jane. She didn't seem the usual call girl sort, but who was to say what people would do? She probably had the same thoughts about him, a man paying for sex. If it disgusted her, it hadn't kept her from enjoying herself. Even before he touched her, before she had knelt down in front of him, her excitement had been obvious.
The memory tugged at Landon and his cock twitched in pleasure. Within seconds it was standing at full attention, having escaped the folds of the towel, seeking its absent target. He groaned and glanced at the clock. It was 2:45 in the morning and he should be tired and ready for bed.
Instead, he was contemplating calling Jane and asking for Kennadie. Christ. What the fuck was wrong with him? Besides, it was Saturday night...well, Sunday morning and Kennadie was probably taken for the night.
His rationale didn't settle well and the need to call pressed down on him until he could no longer resist. He grabbed his cell from the bedside table and scrolled to Jane's number. She answered, sounding fresh and professional, as she always did. Landon rolled off his request, trying to keep the edge of desperation from his voice.
"Give me a moment to check her schedule, Landon."
There wasn't a hint of judgment in her tone and Landon's nerves clicked down a notch. He waited for Jane to come back to the phone. When she did, announcing Kennadie was free, a rush of heat spread through his swollen cock.
"She finished a charity function with a date two hours ago."
"Is that...will she..." Landon's voice wavered as he tried to ask if two dates in one night would be too much.
"It wasn't that kind of function, Landon. She'll be fine."
"It's not too late?" he asked.
"She's a call girl, Landon. If you can't call the girl, she doesn't work."
Landon smiled at the explanation. He could see the logic, but he still felt selfish. He hung up and glanced down at his stiff cock. He considered jacking off. If he didn't, he'd probably come as soon as Kennadie touched him, but the thought of walking around in need of her, anticipating her, was appealing.
Deciding against it, he pulled on a pair black silk pajama bottoms and a white t shirt and busied himself with tidying up while he waited. For thirty two minutes. It was so quick the knock on the door startled him. He swung it open and stood, lost for words at the woman who stood there.
Kennadie was still dressed in evening wear, her black dress sweeping the floor. Her black hair was piled on her head and fell in soft curls from the fastener. Her creamy skin was glowing pink from the cold. She smiled nervously, waiting. Any tempering of his desire that he'd managed to accomplish in that thirty-two minutes was swept away.
"Jane said you asked for me."
She was pleased, he could hear it in her voice.
Landon felt his body flush and stomped down the devil that whispered, 'she's doing it for the money.' He stood sheepishly aside so she could come in.
"I was afraid you'd be too tired, that it'd be too much."
He was shocked by his admission, but Kennadie smiled. "I've actually gotten accustomed to being up at night. I'm glad you called."
Landon stood a moment, unsure. "Would you like something to drink?"
Another nervous smile. "Actually, I've wanted to dance all night," she said, quietly. "My date wasn't exactly up for it. Would you mind?"
Dancing? Yes, he could do that. He pulled the remote from its wooden holder and turned on the stereo. He scanned through the channels, watching her face until her expression lit up. She sat her clutch on a nearby table and stepped to him. He gave a brief thought to his clothes, or lack of, but the thought left him as she pulled his body against hers. He led her through one song. When the next one came on, her arms went from around his neck to his waist, holding him in a hug, her head on his chest, as their bodies moved to the slow beat.
Landon was sure there was no missing his erection pressing into her. Automatic arousal seemed to be the natural way his body responded to Kennadie. As if reading his thoughts, she tilted her chin, risking a peek at him. He answered her questioning eyes with a kiss, slow and tender, that drew the energy from her body until she stood perfectly still in his arms. Both of them stood, languishing in the effects for a moment until, finally, Landon took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom.
He stopped at the door to the bathroom and adjusted his pull-up bar. He moved, standing behind Kennadie. Silently, his hands traveled down her bare arms, wrapping around her wrists and raising her hands to the bar. "Grab it," he whispered.
Kennadie was able to wrap her hands around the steel bar and still keep her feet flat on the floor. With her body stretched before him, Landon gently ran his hands along every exposed inch of skin available to him. A full length mirror hung in the bathroom, directly in front of it. The mirror was the reason he'd put the bar here in the first place, but now, watching Kennadie's body respond to him in the reflection, her body cast in the shadows created by the small night light, Landon was pleased, aching for her. He reached for her zipper and freed her from the silky folds of the material, running his fingers back up her body as he stood again. He ran his hands over her black matching bra and panty, sighing as his hands took in the warmth her body had transferred to the material.
Landon moved to her front, pulling the cups of her bra down and tucking them under the weight of her breasts. "These, are a man's dream come true," he mused softly, catching them in his palm and tweaking her nipples between his thumb and index fingers. Kennadie moaned and relaxed her head on her right arm.
"That feels so good."
"Were you excited about coming to see me?" he asked. It was a childish question, but it was rolling over and over in his mind, begging to be asked.
"Yes," she said quietly.
Landon considered that she said it because it was the right thing to say, being that he was paying for her presence, still, it brought a hint of a smile to him.
"You liked me touching you, Kennadie?"
"Yes."
"Me, Kennadie, or do you like just anyone touching you? Do you just like to get fucked, or fucked by me?"
She gasped, apparently offended either by the vulgarity of the question, or the reason she presumed to be behind it, but, she answered, nonetheless. "You."
Her voice was breathless now, his hands having moved from her breast, down her stomach and were now massaging her, one hand over her panty clad pussy, the other over her ass. As if her answer was the magic word, Landon knelt in front of her and pulled her panties free, discarding them somewhere on the bathroom floor. He adjusted her ankles apart, separating her so that she was slightly turned in the doorway with one foot in the bathroom and one in the bedroom.
He stood and resumed his hand position, one in front, the other in the back, this time allowing his fingers to sink into the crevices of her body. From behind, he slid two fingers into her opening, pausing until the small cry died on her lips.
He found her clit and rubbed firm circles around the hard nub while he worked his fingers in and out of her. He kept this pace until her legs trembled and he felt her pussy begin a slow clench and release around his fingers. He pulled away, grasping her wrists in his hands, silently asking her to let go of the bar. "Not yet, Kennadie."
Landon led her to the bed, sitting her on the edge. He peeled off his pajama pants and before he could toss them to the side, Kennadie had her hand wrapped around his cock. She stroked him slowly, her eyes watching the purposeful movements of her hand. When precum started seeping beading on the head of his cock, she swirled her tongue around him, spreading it.
"Fuck." The words erupted from his mouth as
Kennadie buried her lips around the base of his cock, sucking hard and teasing him with her tongue as she slowly pulled her lips away. This damn girl made him want to lose his mind. There was nothing she didn't make him want to do and the night was too fucking short to do it all.
For a full minute, he enjoyed her blow job. He pulled away, instructing her to slide up on the bed. She did and he followed her, turning around as he straddled her. He stuck his wet cock between her breasts, rocking his hips as Kennadie pushed them together. He reached between her legs, working her clit as he fucked her tits, listening the raspy breaths and soft moans that drifted to his ears.
"I want to suck you."
Landon groaned at the heat that flashed through him. He backed himself up, cursing as Kennadie's lips caught his cock and it disappeared in the mouth. He braced Kennadie's legs behind his arms and bent his head down to inhale her scent before burying his face in her wet pussy. He felt her mouth hum against his cock before she turned her head, releasing him and maneuvering him back between her breasts.
