Unlawful Trust

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Book five of the Renewed Trust Series. Ryder Jurdaine has a secret he has kept from his bandmates. As the loner in the group, he carries a heavy burden and has let love slip from his grasp. When a curvy redhead reenters his life will he be able to let her in or keep her out to protect her from the demons who haunt him?

Erotica / Romance
Cedonia Maison
4.9 19 reviews
Age Rating:


Looking down at the head bobbing at my crotch I wondered why I wasn’t getting those familiar sensations. It had been some time since I got my dick polished and I should be going off like a rocket, but her technique proved worrisome. After the third time she scraped her teeth down my sensitive flesh I couldn’t help but maneuver away from her. Fuck that hurt.

“Uh, Desi?” She stopped sucking but still had me firmly in her mouth as she looked up at me. “Did you ever give head before?” She was young. It got harder to tell their age now I was older myself. They all seemed young to me but my staff wouldn’t have let her into my nightclub unless she was bar age knowing how important I felt it to check IDs.

My cock popped out of her mouth, and she smiled reluctantly, and then I knew. “Ah, of course.” She lied. Shit. Now, what to do?

“It is okay if you haven’t. We could do other things.” I could tell she was thinking and I gave her a little time not wanting to rush her. I never pushed sex on a woman, and only wanted it if they were into it too.

After a little while, she looked back up at me sheepishly from her kneeling position on the floor. “I would rather try to ah... blow you than... you know. You are pretty big.” I stifled a sigh. Where most men would kill to be in my position, I actually wished I had been built smaller. It was comical to me how a man could be admired for the size of his cock even though it had nothing to do with the merit of his personality. I wasn’t conceited about it. Bigger than most, I had even unintentionally hurt women physically in the past. Even though it was not deliberate, I tried never to cause anything to render what we did unpleasurable. Ever.

Hesitant to let me fuck her the traditional way, I got the sense it had little to do with just my size. She hid something from me. Then why did she ask Adam to introduce us telling him she was ‘dying’ to meet the drummer of Social Offender? Explaining how she ‘loved’ the group and was equally impressed with my status in the nightclub industries? She offered to give me head without me asking but now I felt she had an ulterior motive and I couldn’t deny my intuition any longer.

“Desi?” She looked up at me worried, so I talked softer. “Desdemona honey why are you here?” I hated how she felt anxious around me. I knew some men were cruel to women when they didn’t comply but I had been fighting the stigma of men as assholes for most of my adult life. Any man who felt superior to a woman and would prove it in immoral ways should be stopped.

Women were a beauty all on their own. Goddesses in their own right. They should be exalted, worshiped. When you found the right woman, nothing should prevent you from giving them your everything and not holding back. I had it once. My once-in-a-lifetime chance at the golden dream. My ship had sailed. It didn’t mean I couldn’t partake in the occasional sexual offering as long as we both benefited and kept out any false promises. And I always satisfied them. As superficial as it seemed to time myself, I know the average for me eating a girl out would take approximately five to six minutes to bring them to orgasm, and I always sealed the deal. It was the right thing to do. Mutual pleasure. Although with Desi I didn’t think our ending would be anything sexual.

Still hesitant to answer my question, I reiterated, “Why did you come to my office?” My Miami nightclub opened months ago and did well in the market. Set to fly back to California tomorrow, I left Adam in charge until I found a site manager to alleviate some of my constant travel. Once this club became established in the night scene for the area I intended on looking for another city to expand both my nightclub and more importantly, my riskier side venture.

Looking down at her I thought that maybe I should have left tonight. Cocking her head to the side she answered me, “I was told that if I sucked you off I could drink for free the rest of the night.”

My eyes rolled and I shook my head trying to prevent her from noticing. Fucking Adam. When I told him I was open to action it wasn’t supposed to be a favor for a favor. Fuck I hated when he made promises to them. It wasn’t as if I didn’t offer them perks after a woman sucked me off, but I didn’t want them to expect it. Or worse yet, do it for that reason only. This was just supposed to be sex. So much for the woman wanting to be with the famous Ryder Jurdaine.

“So you and your friends wanted to drink for free tonight?”

She shook her head, “No, just Chip and me.” My eyes widened in shock. I didn’t fuck other guy’s women.

“You’ve got a boyfriend? What the fuck are you doing in here giving me a blow job then?”

She looked at me confused. “Chip isn’t my boyfriend. Not yet at least but he is dreamy. He told me I could hang out with him if I would just come in here and fuck you for free drinks but I think your cock is too big for my pussy.” She addressed it matter-of-factly but I couldn’t get over the way this fuckwad Chip had coerced her.

“Desi you are a lovely woman. What makes you think you should listen to a guy who thinks so little of you he would willingly lend you to another man?” Not necessarily my type but Desi was pretty in her own way. She had a model-thin body. Skinny little legs filled out her jeans but lead up to an almost non-existent ass. A taut stomach showed her ribs, her breasts were small but firm, and a deep tan covered her evenly giving her the ultimate model look. The kind of woman found on billboards all over this city advertising the latest pair of jeans or swimwear. What the traditional male would want. Not my usual type but pretty on her own and shouldn’t have to put up with shit from asshole men.

“Oh, Chip? He is just playing hard to get.” It came out questionable like she didn’t even believe it.

I shook my head, “Hard to get doesn’t exist. Either a guy wants you or he uses you. This guy is using you. Don’t let him. You deserve better.”

She tilted her head to the side contemplating what I said but I knew it didn't sink in when I heard her ask her next question, “Does this mean we can’t drink for free tonight?” Just as I thought. She didn’t even care. Somewhere along the line, she was made to feel she had to serve a man, and being taken advantage of was expected. She would put up with his shit for as long as it took for her to get a clue. I’ve seen it before and I didn’t think she would heed my warning.

Getting up from the couch in my office I pulled her to a standing position with me. Taking the time to tuck my now softening cock back in my pants as I sighed and tried with her one last time. “He is using you, can’t you see it? Find someone who will love you like you deserve. Someone who only has eyes for you. Someone who would rather fight for you than let another man have any piece of you.” Her expression turned sad and I hated it when women were sad. I may be into a free fuck now and again but I truly believed all women should be worshiped.

“He said he thought he could like me.” She kept her voice low and I only hoped this led to better things for her.

“Men say what they think you want to hear to get what they want.”

She nodded, “My momma was right.” The phrasing bothered me. She didn’t seem like she was from down south and what twenty-something called her mother ‘momma’?

“How old are you?” A look of alarm spiked on her face and my own warning bells went off in my head. My face fell, “How old?”

She stuttered, “Legal.”

I shook my head, “To vote or to drink?” The way her face flushed said it all. “Fuck!” I grabbed her by the wrist and took her to the dance area. The club didn’t officially open for another hour but the bartenders were all here getting ready for the night.

Dragging her gently to the front bar I yelled out my lead bartender’s name, “Adam!”

Slowly he turned around and nodded at me, “Yeah boss.”

“Desdemona here isn’t legal to drink. What have I told you about checking IDs? If this place gets shut down I stand to lose a shitload of money and your neck will be on the line. Even the generous wage I pay you won’t make up for the greens I could lose after I fire you.”

He held up his hand in front of him. “Hey, how was I to know she wasn’t of age? She showed me a fake ID.” I spun her around and noticed the admission of guilt on her face.

“Hand it over.” She looked down at the floor refusing my request. Giving in as I tended to do with women, I conceded, “Fine. Just get out of here and don’t come back to my nightclub until you are of age.” Looking up at me she smiled while bouncing on her toes and kissed my cheek before rushing to the door. “And don’t forget what I told you.” She left before the last word escaped my mouth and I turned back to Adam mumbling about teenagers.

“Did you at least get to blow your wad?” He didn’t even look phased by her age and it started to piss me off. I would have been the one in worse trouble had she been under the legal age of consent.

Ignoring him, I continued, “You know you should be better at spotting a fake ID. She was barely legal to serve her country much less service me.” He finally gave me a look of unease and I hoped he would think twice about looking for false identification.

Saying all I could on the subject, I injected, “Besides, you know I prefer larger tits on a woman.”

He laughed, “Who cares what her tits look like if she gives good head.”

“Just do a better job of looking for this shit. I don’t want to babysit you here when I’ve got two other clubs to run.” Turning around I headed back into my office to work on the books. The club made money, they all did, but I needed to make sure my records showed we were barely breaking even since I earmarked my gains for another business situation. One that wasn’t necessarily legal which made it so important I handled the financial records myself.

After pouring over the record books for a couple of hours I could hardly see straight anymore. The booming music muffled through the soundproofed walls as I worked into the night making sure nothing could be traced back to the club. I had been doing this for so many years now it proved second nature. I moved the money to my dummy corporations and filtered it through to other investments until I was positive it wouldn’t be linked back to me or any of my investors.

Once finished, I leaned back in the chair and linked my hands behind my head, and stared at the ceiling. My mind went back to the young woman from earlier. What happened to her to make her think she wasn’t worthy of finding a decent man? Could it just be the innocence of youth? The women I encountered recently all seemed the same. Meek, docile in a way they let their life go on around them. What happened to the women who made their own destiny?

A lot changed since my touring days. Although only a handful of years now since out on the road I still missed the camaraderie of being around the guys all the time and banging my drums getting sweaty on stage to the music. My band, Social Offender, was once one of the biggest acts of our genre. Lately, our tunes somehow landed on an oldies station. A feat that didn’t bother me as much as it did Brandt, our lead singer. The band hit its peak years ago but it didn’t stop him from pushing hard to get us back in the limelight. We were working towards it when the band imploded. Our bass player, Quade, found out his wife cheated on him and his son belonged to our guitarist, JJ Harries, a man battling a heroin addiction. So, yeah, it hadn’t been easy the last year.

JJ’s substance abuse, albeit now less of an uphill battle with him clean and sober, pushed Brandt over the edge. When Brandt’s wife Chelsea helped JJ go through detox, JJ had said some degrading comments about Brandt’s involvement with the women of his past all in a ploy to get Chelsea to leave so he could get high again. It didn’t work. The only thing it managed to do was piss Brandt off into beating JJ within an inch of his life. That shit put a rift into the band not easily put back together. Brandt went so far as to replace JJ with another guitarist. A guy who idolized Brandt and didn’t challenge him in the least. Yes, he could play but the rivalry between JJ and Brandt since the inception of the band was what drove us to be the greatest. Without it, we didn’t hold the same magic.

Our failure to stay on the top of the charts hurt Brandt the worst. Each of the other members had moved on. Quade forgave JJ now that he was sober and found an interest in making movie scores with his current wife and received quite a few accolades in the process. JJ found a woman strong enough to call him on his shit and put up with him. A doctor no less who shares a history with drug abuse but had made good herself. She accepted JJ for his shortcomings and never looked down on him for his past even though he was the very definition of a manwhore. Going through detox and finding Nina was the best thing to happen to him.

I watched JJ’s demise over the years and couldn’t do anything to stop it. Some people wouldn’t listen to friendly advice until they hit rock bottom and I knew JJ to be that person. At least he was alive to talk about it now. As a good friend, a brother really, I watched him suffer and hated how the tides had turned. Now I had to watch Brandt go through it too.

While Quade had his film score, and JJ a bigwig music producer making his own praises in the industry, Brandt let his dream of stardom slowly kill him. Even the fact he was a fucking millionaire couldn’t stop him fighting to get back on top despite the record execs leaving us by the wayside. And me? I kept busy with my nightclubs. Three to be exact. Vegas, California, and here now in Miami. Each lucrative and each lending to a bigger goal.

But Brandt lived and breathed music. He got off on the attention and drove us to be the best. Gave our audience an amazing show night after night soaking up the prestige and it led to a depression of sorts now our star had died.

We all had other avenues to fall back on, all except Brandt and it ate away at him. He didn’t want to admit his glory days came to an end and started to drink to forget. Where JJ got sober Brandt took over for him in the ‘using to get by’ status. It was too bad too. His wife Chelsea was one of the most kindhearted and compassionate people I knew. She would give you her last bit of food and then clean up after you. Brandt’s wife and four kids deserved better, but he wouldn’t listen to me in the same way I had to sit back and watch JJ crash and burn only to destroy his life and hope he didn’t take the innocent people with him.

Shutting down the computer on my desk I took the time to verify all the security cameras were functioning properly. I had over a dozen monitoring the bar, the dark parts of the dance club, and more importantly some in the alleyway outside the building itself. We caught so much shit using those cameras. Assholes that put shit in women’s drinks, fights between two alpha males competing for the women in their presence, and even a couple of attempted rapes we luckily stopped in time. I made sure all my bartenders were trained well and hired an expert to come twice a year to teach them what to look for. My reputation was on the line as a conscientious club owner but also of a decent fucking citizen and more should do their part. Less crime against women would occur if people just gave a fuck every now and again.

Making my way out of the office the booming bass hits me as I closed the door. I blinked several times before my eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the dance floor where the writhing bodies strutted the latest dance moves to the beat of the music. Customers scattered around the area with plenty of room to move. Not packed but it wasn’t usually during the weekdays. This club did well but the local colleges had finals around this time and I got a lot less of the college crowd.

Looking around I sought out a potential fuck for tonight since my earlier prospect left me with blue balls. This time I would choose for myself. Someone less for business and more for pleasure. Someone more my type. Not one of those thin, waif-like women that didn’t have a clue what they wanted. I needed a woman with some meat on her bones. Someone I could fuck and not feel like I was breaking them.

It had been easier on tour. I didn’t need to put too much effort into it. We all had our type and they all wanted us. Brandt liked the model-thin women. Quade liked a woman he could talk to as he struggled with the fame that came with the band’s recognition. He wasn’t a womanizer like the rest of us and sought out the strong-minded women he could connect with. And JJ? Well, he had a certain type; young, rich, and a little too arrogant for my taste, although any woman would suffice when he was drinking or hopped up on drugs. How he snagged such an intelligent, vibrant woman like Nina would be one of those questions that didn’t have a logical answer.

My personal interests in women could be summed up in a strong mind and a curvy body. A woman who knew what she wanted and would go out and get it. A woman who could command a presence but was soft in all the right places. Sensuous with an ass I could grab on to and breasts big enough to drain all the saliva from my mouth when I licked them. Big, beautiful breasts that went on for days. I had to admit, I was a breast man at heart.

My eyes scanned the crowd and settled on no one particular until I spotted a woman in a dark-colored dress. The low light made it impossible to see much more beyond a killer backside until I could get closer. She was short but made up for it in high heels to give her calves wonderful definition. Even in the subdued illumination, I could see the sexy design on the back of her stockings and I followed the trail up and under her skirt. It made me want to follow it all the way up to see just how far it went. Her plump ass had some weight to it. Enough to fit into my large hands with a little left over. Cushioned precisely for maximum push potential.

Snaking my eyes up to her waistline I noticed hourglass curves that dipped in at the torso but went just as far out again when I hit her chest. Her red hair glowed in the multicolored beams racing around in the darkness of the club. She had a familiar quality about her. Could it be possible I already indulged in that goddess of a body? I hoped not since I had a strict rule never to dip my cock in the same woman twice but there was something about the way she held herself that commanded a presence.

After waiting by the bar, she ordered a drink when it was her turn. Pivoting to look out at the crowd while she sat patiently I finally realized why she looked familiar. Amilyn Burke was a friend of Brandt’s wife Chelsea and someone I had been with in the past albeit the facts on our tryst together were still a little fuzzy. The last time we bumped into each other causally had been at the christening of Brandt and Chelsea’s youngest child as we were Angelica’s godparents.

Thinking back to that day I remembered Ami bringing her then-husband to the ceremony. Chelsea mentioned their divorce to me a while back and I confirmed it by a quick glance to her finger. No ring but I shouldn’t be looking anyway. We had sex once and I hated breaking my rule about double-dipping.

The sex happened the night of Brandt and Chelsea’s wedding but we hadn’t exchanged more than a couple of friendly sentences since. The night had been a blur to me after we all left for the bar to give the bride and groom some alone time at the end of the night. She left with JJ, myself, and Austin — a friend of ours from another band - as soon as the celebration started to fizzle out. It was the last time I drank so much I passed out. Watching my best friend take the next step in his life, even with someone as wonderful as Chelsea, had been hard on me knowing I could have had it too at one time but it was taken from me.

I thought I would be going down the aisle before my friend did. My life didn’t exactly work out as planned. It led to me drinking enough to quell the voice in my head to remind me of what I lost. I went to a hotel room with Amilyn after as another way of forgetting. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. It was my loss really. I wished I could have remembered what it was like to palm those big, beautiful tits of hers. To squeeze her ass and sink inside of her. To hear her moans and to make her come. It really was one of my biggest regrets.

Walking up to Ami I watched as she retrieved her drink from Adam and rifled through her purse for payment. Closing in behind her I could smell her scent. Not quite floral, more earthy, but wonderfully her own. Was it her hair? It was shorter than I last remembered but that was almost eight years ago now. She cut it since but it was no less tame than the wild main she had earlier. Instead of it going down to her mid-back it was cut in a professional, business-like manner and it lent to the image of a powerful corporate executive, and she still looked incredibly sexy with it.

As Adam inquired about starting a tab, I did the gentleman task of letting her indulge in my hospitality. Looking at Adam, I shouted over the crowd, “Her money is no good here.” When she turned abruptly to look at me, I got lost in her startling green eyes. Eyes that would prove dangerous if I stared too long, but I was helpless to stop.
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