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Chapter Fifty-Six
Point of View: Leon

Kayla Sinclaire was a sexy little bitch. Every part of her body was perfectly toned from years of dancing. She was sweating form working hard in the unair-conditioned theater, and the beads trickling across her forehead and neck and breasts, which peeked out of her skin-tight gym top, made me want to engulf her in my mouth and taste every particle of her.

I'd been working on cracking the resistance she possessed for months now. I'd scored her the part in the play, trying to get more time together, desperate to lay my hands on her, to get her hot, to bring her home, and to fuck her until she couldn't breathe. But she'd had an excuse every time I'd tried to take her home. It was getting old. Very old.

"I can't, Leon," she whined today as I caught her by her waist and pulled her into me, her ass against my hard on. She wiggled, trying to get away, which only made me want her more, as I pressed into her, catching her between my strong body and one of the theater seats.

A couple other girls from the set were watching and giggling.

I licked her ear softly, "Where on earth do you have to go today?" I whispered in the lowest, huskiest voice in my register, "Come on, Kayla. You can't keep being a cock-tease and expect me to put up with it," I laughed lowly.

"Don't call me that," she hissed, eyes flashing in anger. She shoved me back against the seat behind me and slinked out from between me and the chair ahead of her. She grabbed her bag. "And I happen to have borrowed a car, which I need to return."

"Where the fuck is your car?" I demanded.

"Its in the shop," she said. I could tell she was lying, though, the way she'd said it, and it pissed me off. She trotted up the aisle between the rows of seats. "I really gotta go, Leon," she stammered as I followed her.

"Come on, I'm sure whatever dealership gave you the car won't notice if we have a quickie in the back," I pleaded, "Kayla, you can't do this to me."

"Oh trust me," she scoffed, "The owner would notice that."

I followed her onto the sidewalk. A group of homeboys were staring at a bright red Camaro hungrily, like they were ravenous wolves. "Shit, Kayla, what garage gave you that as a loaner against your lunch box of a car?" I demanded, seeing the hot rod.

"None of your business," she snapped.

The other girls from the play had followed us out of the theater, probably having smelled the drama from where they were standing before. When the leader of the pack - whose name I was pretty sure was Lauren - saw the car, she gasped, "Nick-fucking-Carter's Camaro," she purred.

Kayla blinked in surprise from where she'd been unlocking the driver's side door as she looked up at Lauren. "What?"

"You do know him," Lauren was saying in a dream-like voice, "Shit, how the hell did you get the Camaro from him?"

Kayla looked uncomfortable. I moved up behind her and pushed her back into the Camaro, staring into her eyes. "This is his fucking car?" I demanded.

"Leon, we need to talk," Kayla muttered, her voice low and bitter.

"Damn fucking right we do," I shouted into her face. I slammed my hand against the fucking Camaro's door. She flinched. Not a mark was made, but it had sounded impressive as the band of ring on my middle finger hit the metal.

"Leon, please this isn't mine," she muttered, turning red.

"Yeah? Well I know something that isn't his that he's fucking with," I snarled, and in a motion faster than she could stop me, I'd raked my fist across the paint job on the side of the car, my heavy high school ring screeching as it cut into the metal.

Kayla's eyes were wide and her jaw dropped. Her hand flew to cover her mouth at the sound. "Oh my God." Beyond the car, I could hear all three girls gasp, and the teenage homeboys all start muttering about ruining a perfectly good car. "LEON," Kayla yelled, her voice pitched with anger, "You stupid prick." She shoved me, her hands banging against my chest, but I didn't move a muscle. I kept her pinned just as she'd been before trying to push me, with absolutely no effort.

My hand flew to her neck and pushed her head against the car. "Don't you fucking touch me unless you're going to do it right," I snarled into her ear, "You hear me?"

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"Do you hear me?" I yelled, pushing swiftly against her, feeling her wind cut off a moment under my thumb.

"YES!" she yelled, choking when I released her and starting to cry.

The other three girls were glancing at each other nervously, and the homeboys were breaking up and disappearing, muttering things like "damn straight, tame that bitch right down" and dispersing.

"Now, baby, you're coming home with me," I said, my voice dipping into a smooth, soft purr in her ear, "So we can make up after this little fight. Aren't you?" Usually, this worked. Usually, this made her agree with me, no matter how fierce I'd been to her in the moments prior. This gentle, measured voice had always melted her like butter.

Kayla shook her head, "Leon, I told you, I can't. I-" she opened the door to the car, "I need to go. And-" she started sinking inside of it, her hand on the door handle, "And- I - I want to break up... with you." I stuck my hand in the door, holding it open so she couldn't close it.

"Break up?" I laughed, "You want to break up?" I leaned closer to her, "You fucking can't break up with me. I got you this part," I hissed in her ear, "Remember that? And you have yet to deliver your half of the bargin here. Last I checked, we have yet to even begin on working on your tab."

Kayla shook her head, "You only got me an audition. The director chose me for the play on talent alone. You had nothing to do with that selection."

"Kayla, you fucking promised - sex for an audition. I want my sex."

"And I want to break up with you," she hissed, "There are tons of other girls in this city you can have sex with, so leave me alone, Leon." She yanked the door to the fucking Camaro shut, practically breaking my fingers in the jamb, which I only just got my hand out of in time. The locks clicked before I could open the door again. I started punching the window, fully intending to break inside of it and pull her out again, and the engine turned on and she floored the gas. The car shot forward out of the spot and down the road, knocking me onto my ass in the street as she went.

I stared after the car, livid.