Miranda's hands clenched and unclenched on the hood of the Corvette. She really hoped she wasn't going to damage the sleek black paintwork. The engine was still warm beneath her, and Ken was balls deep behind her. She felt him slam her behind with yet another punishing thrust and she opened her mouth to scream but literally nothing came out. The things this man did to her. She could barely catch her breath.

It was just past eleven Saturday morning. He had called her Friday at approaching eight o'clock, frustrated that he had gotten caught up at work again and she had convinced him to wait until morning to drive down to her. She didn't want to risk him falling asleep at the wheel. Apparently, the extra night apart had taken its toll as they hadn't even gotten out of the driveway and into the boathouse before he had kissed her deeply, and spun her around, pushing her down onto the hood of the stingray. In short order her skirt was up over her behind, and her panties were around her ankles. Which also meant he was again inside her without a condom. They really needed to stop doing this, especially since they weren't alone this weekend.

Ken was mid thrust when a sleek silver car pulled around the corner of the drive. He pushed as far into her moist heat as he could, slid her skirt back down to cover both of them as much as possible, and held his position. Well, this was awkward. He also wasn't too enthused that finally fulfilling the fantasy of one of the major reasons he had dropped so much coin on his car, was being interrupted.

Miranda felt him stop behind her; she blinked her eyes open and nearly shot up off the hood. Shit. Her father's Aston Martin was coming towards them. Shit. Shit. Shhhitt. She struggled, but Ken had locked his big hands onto her hips, holding her securely where she was. Her father turned the car, bringing it to a stop perpendicular to them about twenty-five feet away, and rolled down the passenger side window.

"Ben?" he called out in his baritone. "Miranda, what's his name again?"

"Ken, dad."

"Kenneth, finish up, meet me in the house in my office in ten minutes," he directed. He waved the back of his hand towards his daughter. "Miranda, get cleaned up, your mother is having tea with Eva Cummings and wants you to make an appearance. Oh, and dear, exercise better discretion. Young lady, we do still have to at least keep up some semblance of proprietary around here," and with that the window went back up and the car headed back up the drive.

What the ever living? Ken felt her clench around his still mostly hard dick. He groaned, pulled back an inch or so and rolled his pelvis back against her.

"Ken!" she bit out.

"What? He didn't tell me to stop."

She groaned as he thrust against her again, "I think it was implied."

"Really? I didn't get that," he panted from behind her, obviously getting close.

"Fuck, Ken!" she used all her strength to push herself up, twisting, dislodging him in the process and squatting down to take his shaft into her mouth. She grabbed his balls and scrotum in one hand, wrapped the other around his base and milked his orgasm down her throat. Feeling him soften, she released him, licked her lips, replaced her panties, and stood back up.

"Not my original plan, but thanks," he greeted her with a smirk.

"And just what was your plan?" she asked. "I'm not having you ruin another dress."

"Yeah, not sure I'd want to get that," he gestured between his groin and her mouth, "on the detailing anyway."

She ignored him, reaching for his fly. "Whoa, sweetheart, I can appreciate that you're hard up, 'cause God knows I am, but I need a little recovery time."

"Ken, stop being an idiot," she scolded as she replaced him in his boxers, tucked in his shirt, and pulled his pants back up over his ass. "My father wants you in his office, you need to straighten up."

It was one of the first times Ken had heard a hint of fear in her voice. Fortunately, for him, his dopamine high was still causing a full-on buzz, even if he was heading to his death. He also knew that if McCallister Senior wanted him dead, he was dead.

Somehow managing to get his brain off of his more carnal desires, he took over for her, zipping up his fly and re-buttoning his jeans. He shifted everything back around, including his balls, ran a hand through his hair, shook his shoulders out, and stood up straight, putting his game face on. He went to kiss her lips, thought better of it on the way in, and reached to peck her forehead instead.

"Good luck," she offered with a sideways shake of her head, like she knew he was already screwed. He really hoped she wasn't sending him off to his execution. He started to walk down the drive.

He entered the main house, passing two to three staff members in the process, that were either cleaning, straightening, or carrying something. He hadn't been in her father's office, but he knew the general location. He made one wrong turn, but then found the right door, which was ajar. He rapped his knuckles against the hardwood and peered inside. Mr. McCallister was sitting at a large desk, surrounded by papers. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Come in, Kenneth, and close the door behind you," he directed without looking up.

Seeing no alternative, Ken moved to do as asked. He stepped into the room, stopping about five feet back from the desk and folded his hands behind his back, legs spread slightly, and knees locked. Miranda's father looked up at him for a mere moment and then dropped his eyes back to his papers.

"What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

Ken opened his mouth but didn't get a word out before the man in charge continued.

"You see, I've never had anyone tame her like you have. I don't even care that you're an asshole. We didn't exactly amass this fortune by always playing nice. I just want to ensure that you're the kind of asshole that will still take care of her." Miranda's father took another glance up at the man standing in front of him. Was he happy that he had just caught said man shamelessly fucking his daughter in his own property's driveway? Hell no. But he could also admire that kind of brashness if it was put to good use.

Ken swallowed, this was not the talking to he was expecting, but he had already learned that Miranda and her family didn't often play by the rules. Recovering he answered, "Yes, Sir, I plan to do just that."

"And do you have plan?"

"Not fully," he answered honestly, "but formulating."

"Well, formulate faster." He pulled open a desk drawer. "Here," he said. Ken stepped forward, taking into his hand a small velvet box. "That was her grandmother's, promised to her. The jeweler recently cleaned it and checked the settings." Ken stepped back a half foot. Miranda's father continued, "If anything happens to that ring," he looked up again and made sure he had Ken's eye contact, "or my daughter, they won't find the body."

"Yes, Sir." His apparent soon to be father-in-law dropped his eyes once more to his papers. Feeling dismissed, Ken turned for the door, tucking the ring deep in his pocket, ensuring it was secure.