Cado

• Prologue
  
• 1
  
• 2
  
• 3
  
• 4
  
• 5
  
• 6
  
• 7
  
• 8
  
• 9
  
• 10
  
• 11
  
• 12
  
• 13
  
• 14
  
• 15
  
• 16
  
• 17
  
• 18
  
• 19
  
• 20
  
• 21
  
• 22
  
• 23
  
• 24
  
• 25
  
• 26
  
• 27
  
• 28
  
• 29
  
• 30
  
• 31
  
• 32
  
• 33
  
• 34
  
• 35
  
• 36
  
• Epilogue
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• About the Author
  

Cado

D.T. Dyllin

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cado Copyright © 2015 by D.T. Dyllin

The Tik Tok Press Logo is a trademark of Tik Tok Press

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and the theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Cover Art by Lindsay Tiry of
LT Arts

Tik Tok Press & D.T. Dyllin Logos by Jordan P. Fremgen of
Eye Of The River Media Design

Interior book design by
The Eyes For Editing

ISBN-13: 978-1-941126-61-5

ISBN-10: 1941126618

For more information visit:
www.dtdyllin.com

Go to Heaven

for the climate,

Hell for the

company.

~Mark Twain

This is not a confessional.

This is not a tale of redemption.

There will be no happy ending, and no epic revelations that result in the expulsion of my inner demons.

I am who I am…a mirage—a carefully fabricated image—a lie. Every piece of me down to the shade of my nail polish is designed to fool you. Perfection is my goal, and on the outside I’ve reached it. But on the inside—on the inside I’m broken—shattered.

I live to punish, to deal out revenge… To serve as karma.

Don’t begin to imagine that I can be fixed for I am beyond repair.

Cado:

Latin

/’ka.do:/

(verb)

To fall, drop, plummet, topple.

“Next up on the main stage is Kaaaaarma!”

The hard fast beats of a rock song I didn’t recognize swept over me. I waited a few seconds until the rhythm sank into my bones and my heart began to pound along with the cadence of the singer’s voice. I hit the stage just as hard and fast. Bright lights shone down on my already sweat-dampened body as I moved with utter perfection. With each undulation of my hips and shake of my pert ass, the room became heavier with lust. The men that crowded around the stage all wanted me, and they could never have me. Not really. But I loved to show them exactly what they were missing. I’d never been the shy type.
Men and women alike should lavish me with love and attention…and gifts. I quite enjoy gifts. I deserve people’s thanks for the things I do.

“Karma, baby, please!” a voice thick with desperate need called out. I dropped to all fours and crawled towards him.
He’s my target
. The voice of my next victim always resounded within me, sounding louder than the rest. Somehow I always just
knew
.

As I approached the man, I realized he wasn’t much more than a boy. A college student maybe. He had plain features, not unattractive, but also not anything special—even his hair appeared a dull gray under the dim lighting; it was probably a muddy brown or dishwater blond. His face lit up as I met his lust-laden eyes. I rolled onto my back and jutted my generous size C cups in the air. I slid my fingers underneath my sheer demi-bra and undid the front clasp. When my breasts sprang free I pinched my pasty covered nipples roughly. He dropped money on me and I laughed.
Make it rain, baby. Make it rain
. It was almost sad how easily they all opened up their wallets for me. I pushed the money towards the center of the stage and moved away from him. His face was burned into my mind though, and I would be paying him a visit later.

After I finished my three song set on the main stage I made my way over to the back VIP stage where I’d be performing one song. The smaller stage had a more intimate vibe to it, which was why it was where I usually roped in customers for a session in a private room. Several men were already seated in anticipation as I approached. My gaze slid over them easily, pausing on the same kid from the main stage, my intended target—

All the air was sucked from my lungs. Sitting in the corner seat with the presence of some kind of deity, was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. His chin length silky locks were a dark golden that glinted in the dim lighting. His chiseled jaw line was dusted with matching scruff. But what really caught my attention was the piercing set of bright blue eyes that were peering at me with curiosity, like they could see into my very soul. When his full succulent lips tipped up at the corners my pulse quickened to a staccato beat. As I stepped up onto the stage, my gaze still riveted, I noticed he was wearing a tailored suit that fit him to perfection. He exuded wealth, taste, and sex appeal by the bucket load.
Who the hell are you?

I dropped to all fours and crawled to him. I’d never actually had sexual thoughts about a customer before, but him…
damn
. A deluge of hot images of us twisted together, naked, sped through my mind in quick secession.
Me on top riding his thick cock, him behind me slamming into my slick heat, missionary with my arms tied above my head
… Sweat trickled down my spine and I was instantly wet.
Oh God, what’s happening to me
? It was as if everyone else in the room had disappeared and I was giving a very private, very intimate show to the most virile man on the planet. I wanted, no—I
needed
him to want me just as badly as I did him.