Recovery (10 page)

“I’m from Memphis,” Chase continued, and Layla swore she could hear the workings of a southern drawl surfacing in his voice. “As in Tennessee.”

“I know where Memphis is!” Layla scoffed.

Chase laughed lightly, “Just kidding,” he said. He reached in the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a pack of Camel cigarettes and lighting one.

“Anyway, Richie and I grew up there. When I was twenty and Richie was eighteen we got on our bikes, real shitty Choppers but hey we were young, and we headed towards San Francisco. It was supposed to be a vacation, I guess, but we never did make it back.”

Layla nodded, taking a hit of Chase’s cigarette when he offered and exhaling a fine ring of smoke from between her full lips.

“That tends to happen a lot here,” she joked, “people coming on vacation and staying forever. It’s kind of sad, actually.”

Chase nodded in silent agreement, finishing off his cigarette and tossing the bud into an ashtray that sat in the middle of the coffee table, which separated himself from Layla. For a while, neither one of them spoke. Then, finally, Layla broke the silence.

“What happened to your brother?” she asked, not wanting to be too intrusive.

Chase squared his broad shoulders. It was clear to Layla that all three of the Disciples she had come to know were sensitive in their own right, regardless of their rugged appearances. Leo – the man Layla couldn’t accept as her father – was kind and caring, but on the outside, he appeared every bit as brutish and scary as a hardened con. Richie was strong and fearless, having killed two men to protect the life of one woman he didn’t know, but the act of pulling the trigger had scarred him into seclusion – to the point where his own brother didn’t even seem to know where he was.

And Chase. He was probably the most easy to dissect of them all. When Layla looked at him, she saw a man grappling with good and evil – carefully teetering the line of both. He was capable of cruelty in a way Layla had witnessed firsthand, but it was becoming abundantly clear to her that kindness was what he preferred. Unfortunately, it was a side of himself that he couldn’t express in the lifestyle he had chosen without appearing soft.

“He’s on the road somewhere,” Chase shrugged, “That’s what I’m assuming, anyway. Can’t really say I blame him either. I doubt I would have stuck around, you know. Having done what he did.” He paused, drumming his fingers lightly on his legs.

“Tell me about you,” he pushed Layla, “I don’t mind talking, but listening is more my thing.”

His words were simple enough but Layla couldn’t help but find them profound. It was the first time in her life that someone had asked her, in layman’s terms, to describe herself. Most people just assumed they knew everything about her, a common occurrence in a world that gave so much merit to Stardom and Celebrities.

“Alright,” Layla began, searching for the perfect way to describe twenty-three years of addiction and self-doubt in a few condensed sentences. She could feel the effects of the cocaine turning her brain into sludge, but she powered through it, not wanting the moment to go to waste. In the living room of Leo’s dilapidated cabin, which doubled as the Disciples’ clubhouse, Layla sat with a damp towel wrapped around herself, allowing the words to fall freely from her mouth.

She told Chase that she hated being famous.

That it felt like her entire life had been condensed down into a series of short, poorly directed movies. That she sometimes wished her mother loved her more, or at least acted like she did. And before Layla could stop herself, she told Chase about Leo and the illicit moment they had shared together in the clearing. Before either one of them had known what a huge mistake they were making.

“It was wrong,” Layla whispered, unable to look Chase in the eye, “but it was also the only thing in my life that ever felt right.”

Layla felt dirty as the confession stumbled from her lips. She had barely even admitted that to herself, and now, Chase knew it too. Layla silently cursed herself, feeling her cheeks burning red. When she finally found it in herself to look up at Chase, she expected a look of disgust, but what she got instead was one of empathy.

He stood up, climbing across the barrier that separated himself from Layla and taking a seat beside her on the sofa. He grabbed her clammy hand, giving it a squeeze. He didn’t speak, but it was what he didn’t say that mattered. He didn’t denounce her. He didn’t call her outside of her name, and he didn’t press her for further details on how far she and Leo had taken it.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. He grabbed Layla by the chin, forcing her to look at him.

“You didn’t know.”

A lump of shame surfaced in Layla’s throat. That was the part she wasn’t sure of. The part that disturbed her and clawed away at her conscious the most. The truth was, from the moment Layla had met Leo, she had sensed that he was important to her. Maybe she didn’t entirely understand the link, or even openly recognize it, but there was still a part of her, no matter how miniscule, that knew the truth.

“Yeah,” she whispered, not wanting Chase to hear the uncertainty in her voice.

She pulled away from him, standing up.

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

Layla entered the cabin bedroom, shutting the door lightly behind herself and exhaling deeply. She opened Leo's dresser with shaking hands, pulling out an oversized T-shirt. Just as she went to pull it over her head, she heard the door open.

Layla jumped in surprise, dropping the shirt to the ground. She bent down to pick it up, then she looked up, coming face to face with Chase.

“What are you –” she began, startled. But Chase silenced her, bringing his lips crashing down against hers. He pulled her over to the bed, pushing her onto it.

 “Shh,” he whispered.

At twenty-three, Layla's skin still had a certain luminescent quality. Her eyes, two pools of ocean green, drew Chase in without even trying. Layla shuddered, but Chase himself was far from calm inside. He had a war brewing inside himself. Layla could feel the sharp clamor of his heartbeat. The blood pumping through his veins as he gripped her arms tightly. The adrenaline inside of him as he stared deep into her eyes, his nervous system kicking into overdrive.

Chase wanted Layla. Needed her even. And now, here she was. Pressed on Leo’s bed beneath him. She was short and petite, standing no taller than 5'3 – a stark contrast to Trisha's tall, gangly frame. Her honey red hair was wavy and shoulder length, while Trisha’s locks were waist length, pin straight and blonde. All of these things stood out to Chase, but it was the soft curves and nuances of Layla's body that resonated with him the most. Trisha's breasts, while large, were firm and bulbous. Layla's were supple and symmetrical, accented by light pink nipples that practically begged to be fondled.

Layla pulled away from him, breathless and panting.

“I – I’m very appreciative that you helped me out,” she whispered quietly, her eyes never leaving Chase’s. “But…I wasn’t…I mean I didn’t offer this in return…”

Her words were soft and clumsy. Chase smiled to himself, grabbing her sweaty hand in his. He watched as she blushed, her freckled cheeks flushing red.

“I know,” Chase finally said, his voice deep and husky.

He started to pull away from Layla, dejected and horny, but she reached out to stop him. “Wait,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

Chase looked down at her, furrowing his brows. He groaned as Layla brought her hand to his crotch, pulling at his zipper. She broke eye contact with him momentarily, focusing on her handiwork as a soft blush spread from her cheeks across her face. Chase groaned as his cock hardened, springing to life as Layla pulled down his jeans and briefs, hooking her hand around it. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, a remainder of what Chase had started but never finished with Trisha.

Without a word, Layla began to move her tiny hand up and down his length, taking her time to explore every inch. She basked in the act, looking up at Chase as a look of pleasure surfaced in his dark eyes. She took her time, making sure every pump of her hand was felt by him.

Chase let out a guttural groan.

“God you’re good at this,” he murmured underneath his breath, a waft of Layla’s shampoo reaching his nostrils as she eased herself on top of him, still pumping her hands. She smelled amazing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, flashing Chase a smile. “I’ve had practice,” she added sarcastically, her mind wandering to the handful of pornographic films she had taken part in. Layla’s words hung in limbo for a moment as she nestled her head against Chase’s head. She felt a wave of shame wash through her. She might have been young, but she was no stranger to sex.

Preoccupied by lust to dissect Layla’s remark, Chase brought an arm around her, feeling her body against his. She picked up speed, focusing on his shaft and cupping his balls in her other hand.

Chase groaned. He wanted more.

He tugged at Layla’s towel, pulling it off from around her body and tossing it to the ground. She continued to stroke him, keeping pace, her eyes never leaving his. Chase took her in like a piece of fine art. Her round breasts bounced in front of him as she worked his cock, her dime sized pink nipples rock hard and begging to be sucked. He reached forward, cupping one of her breasts in his hands and feeling its warmth. He ran the pad of his thumb over her nipples, flicking them as she moaned in satisfaction, speeding up the suction of her hands around his cock.

Neither one of them were thinking about the consequences of their actions.  Chase slid his hands down Layla’s body, resting his palms against her firm, naked buttocks. He pressed his fingertips against her sides, and Layla knew full well what he wanted to do next. Chase felt her body tense up as he swatted at her bare ass cheeks playfully. She moaned, giving him all the approval he needed to continue.

The lust inside of Chase was building, dulling his senses. He could barely think straight as Layla began to relax beneath him, allowing him to fondle and squeeze her ass as she continued to please him with her hands – fully focused and on task. Tired of thinking, Chase parted Layla’s cheeks, smiling as a moan of surprise escaped her lips.

Chase had always been an ass man, and Layla’s was anything if not immaculate. He slid his hand up her back, grabbing Layla’s body and turning her over onto her stomach in one swift motion. Now on top of her, Chase grabbed her arms, pinning her precum slicked hands firmly above her buttocks as passion filled the air.

Chase stood then, pulling off his shirt and revealing his muscular chest as Layla stared up at him through her soft red curls, which had fallen into her face.

She had come down some from her high, but desire had taken over.

“That progressed quickly.”

Layla smiled, a newfound confidence in her voice. She looked down at Chase’s throbbing erection, biting down on her bottom lip. She felt in control, but a deep seeded instinct told her that Chase didn’t want her to be. He brought Layla’s hands back down to the small of her back, gripping her wrists tightly as he eased himself back on top of her, slapping her buttocks and leaving behind a red palm print.

Layla let out a soft cry as Chase pulled her upwards by the arms.

“Up,” he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

Layla did as she was told, lifting her ass up into the air and bringing her knees up against her stomach. Chase groaned, palming the curve of her buttocks. He kneeled on the ground beside the bed, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“Spread them,” he whispered, cementing the fact that he was in charge.

Layla shuddered but did as she was told. She brought her hands downward, slowly pulling her cheeks open and completely exposing her sex, which was moist, plump, and completely hairless. Chase groaned at the sight, leaning forward for a better look. He took his erect cock in his hands, his gaze moving upwards – to Layla’s puckered, untouched asshole. It was clear that she had never partook in anal before. Layla might have been with a lot of men, but that was one thing she held sacred.

Chase leaned forward, pressing the head of his cock flush against the entrance of Layla’s asshole as she tensed beneath him.

“Wait!” she cried out, turning around to face Chase. “I’ve never –”

“Shh,” Chase interrupted, pressing harder. “I know.”

He groaned as Layla struggled beneath him, watching as the head of his cock began to push forward into her ass. He told himself that what he was doing wasn’t wrong. It was strictly animalistic. He had done a favor for Layla. He had got her what she needed. Now, she was doing something for him.

“Please stop,” she panted through gritted teeth. Chase pushed her head down, grabbing a handful of her curly hair. “It hurts!”

“It’s okay,” he groaned, slowing his pace. “It always hurts a little at first.”

It was then that Chase saw exactly what he was hoping for. Layla was giving in. She loosened up beneath him, relaxing her shoulders and moaning into submission. Chase heard her say something, but over the squeaking of the mattress, he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“What was that?” he asked her, the palms of his hands tight against her ass.

“Say it again baby, louder.”

“Please,” Layla moaned. “Harder…don’t stop…”

She kept her head down, too ashamed to look at him. Her hair fell into her face as Chase loosened his grip on her head, focusing all his energy on his thrusting. Layla told herself that she was only trying to get back at Leo. That she wouldn’t enjoy it, but that was becoming easier said than done.