by E. M. Moore
Johnny finally takes the ice pack away from his swollen eye. “It’s not safe for you here. I’ll tell him I thought it was best, so we don’t fuck anymore. I don’t know. I’ll make up some excuse.”
Brawler’s hand drops to the bed, leaving a trail down my spine. “Maybe she can get her apartment back? I’d say she can live with me, but...” He shakes his head. “...my mom.”
I rub his shoulder. “I know. It’s okay.”
“She can live with me,” Oscar says, capturing my gaze. “My mom hasn’t been home in a couple of months. I haven’t heard from her. I don’t know where she is.”
“But is that really the best idea?” Magnum asks, speaking up. “She has more security here in the tower than anywhere else.”
“Right now, her biggest threat is inside these walls,” Johnny says, voice growing darker. “I’ll take Gregory’s guys over my dad any day. We’ll sneak her out of here in case anyone is watching. For all anyone else will know, she’s still here.”
No one agrees with Johnny. We sit in silence and mull it over.
“We can just try it,” Johnny says. He’s a bit forceful because he’s used to people just agreeing with him. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out, but I don’t trust my father around her. Magnum, maybe you know some guards we can trust.” He shakes his head. “Scratch that. No one outside of us knows where she is, okay? No one.”
I frown at Johnny. I’m used to being here with him, so I don’t know how I feel about this. Plus, it’s taking me away from K. That was never the end game.
Though, even I can understand that’s probably a good thing right now.
“Now that that’s settled,” I say, knowing this will piss off more than a few people in the room. “We need to talk about how Brawler has to kick my ass in this fight.”
31
Oscar’s bike revs underneath me. I tighten my grip around his hard stomach as he pulls away from a stop sign on our way to his house. The last half of the meeting with the guys was tense. No one likes my idea about losing to Brawler, even though they eventually conceded that it was our best avenue. Even Johnny.
Yep. Even Johnny.
My hair sneaks out from under the helmet and whips around my shoulders. The city blurs by as he drives. The thrum of the bike underneath me lulls me into a sense of relaxation. He doesn’t immediately take me back to his apartment as planned. Magnum and Johnny will be pissed, but Oscar does what he wants. He drives me out of town, taking the backroads where he can open up the throttle. We fly down the pavement, nerves skittering through me at the dangerous excitement of it all. Driving like this is like the predicaments I keep finding myself in since coming to the Heights. It’s scary here. No doubt about that, but it’s also thrilling, and that’s not even counting the fact that I’ve found the guys who complement me here. A whole new round of fear and energy tingle my limbs at that thought. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to feel love and be loved. So. Damn. Long.
Oscar takes a turn a little too sharply, and even though my stomach bottoms out, I laugh. He chuckles underneath my hands, his abs tightening as he increases the speed a tad. The guy is crazy. He gave me the only helmet he had, so he isn’t even wearing one. I’m holding his ballcap in my hand because the helmet I’m wearing kept hitting his brim when we first started out. His raven hair flutters free at the sides. His tan forearms ripple with movement as he steers the motorcycle around another bend in the road.
I press my helmet against his back and watch the side of the road flip by like perfect pictures in time moving in quick succession. There’s something so peaceful about this. Almost like we’re flying. A sense of freedom wraps me up in a warm blanket.
We stay out on the roads a little longer until he eventually turns the bike back toward the Heights as the sun starts to set. By the time we head down his block, I’m shivering from the cold. He pulls up next to his door around the corner from the store and helps me off the bike. He turns the key and throws his leg over, dismounting with more grace than I’ve yet to accomplish. I help hold the bike steady as he opens the small storage area. After walking the bike in, he kicks the kickstand down before reaching back for my helmet. I undo the clip and yank it off. He gives me a smirk as I run my hands through my hair to tame it.
Once he has everything inside, he locks the garage up, takes his hat back from me, and then leads me up the narrow staircase to his upstairs apartment.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I’m sure it’s a text from one of them, wondering what’s taking us so long. I pull it out and send a group message letting them know we arrived at Oscar’s apartment safely.
Oscar quickly runs through the place, picking up stray garbage as I chuckle at him. “It’s fine,” I tell him. Though, Johnny did threaten to send a housekeeper here. He must think Oscar lives in filth, which he doesn’t.
“Gotta have the best for Princess,” he mocks.
There’s one thing I love about Oscar and Brawler’s places that are missing from mine, Magnum, and Johnny’s. That lived-in feel. It’s homey. Things that have been used recently are out. A pen. A pad of paper. A book. A can opener sits on the kitchen counter. There’s never anything like that in mine or Johnny’s suite because the housekeepers come by and pick it up. Don’t get me wrong, that’s nice too, but it also makes our places a tad sterile. Almost like it’s not a home.
“I like it, Oscar. Don’t bother.”
He grunts. “Yeah. I’m sure you like it better than the tower.”
He comes back out to the main living area, and I stop him, blocking his beeline to whatever else he thinks needs to get picked up. “Don’t be silly. This place is your home, and I would like it no matter what.”
He arches a brow. “What if I lived in a cardboard box on the street?”
I narrow my gaze. “Can we both fit in the cardboard box?”
His dark eyes flare, and he nods.
“Then I would like it,” I tell him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Now, can we do something normal? Like binge TV and eat candy?”
Oscar chuckles. “That’s your idea of normal?”
I shrug. “That’s what I would be doing if I was home.”
He shakes his head but leads me to the sofa anyway. He hands me the remote and tells me he’ll search the kitchen for junk food. I turn the TV on, but I watch him instead. He pulls down some Oreos from the cabinet, sitting them next to a bag of chips on the counter along with a loaf of bread.
“Can I ask you something?” I call out.
He comes out from around the kitchen. “Anything.”
“How do you make money?”
His gaze burns into me. He tosses the chips and the Oreos down on the coffee table in front of us.
“I was just curious because your mom—”
“Doesn’t work?” he supplies. “Doesn’t give me money? Doesn’t do anything?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah. All that.”
“I get money from the Crew. I fast-tracked my way in, so I could start earning a wage. When we got back to the Heights and Mom started back into her drug nonsense, I knew things were going to go back to the way they were, only worse. I burned bridges when I left. I used to work at the grocery beneath us, but Heights people didn’t trust me like they used to. I joined the Crew for protection and for the money. I couldn’t wait to go through the regular initiation tasks like most, I needed to start making money right away, so they agreed to push me through as long as I did what they said. They pay me to watch over the high school recruits. They pay me to keep my ears to the ground. You’d be surprised what you can learn in the school. I write them weekly reports that sometimes have information they need and sometimes don’t. I also help them with various other things occasionally.”
“And it’s enough?” I ask.
“Am I Uncle Scrooging it in money? No,” he says, looking away. “But it’s enough to get by.”
I cup his cheek, making him look at me again. “You are somet
hing else, Oscar Drego.”
He shakes his head. “I did what I had to to survive.”
“But you did do it,” I tell him. Not everyone does. His mom, for example. She checked out. She’s not helping. She’s not doing anything. Brawler’s mom, too. Hell, Johnny’s mom left him as well. Not everyone does what they should do. Even if you just do that, you’re doing okay. Sometimes it’s enough just to do enough.
Oscar leans forward to gesture toward his offerings. “Which first?”
“Chips,” I tell him, already salivating. He hands me the bag of Doritos, and I open them, holding them between us so we can share.
We decide on a movie and start to watch. Minutes turn into an hour and an hour into three as we put in another movie and snuggle on the couch together. It’s so comfortable being here. In fact, it’s so comfortable I fall asleep and Oscar wakes me with a kiss to the crown of my head. “Let’s go to bed, Princess.”
I play groan at him, and he smirks. “Do you want the bed to yourself?”
I stand, wrapping my arms around his middle. “Absolutely not. I want to wake up in your arms.”
Oscar and I undress once we’re in his room. He shucks his clothes off until he’s in his boxers while I’m in his football shirt. He teases the fabric between his fingers. “I love that you wore this.”
I shrug it off like it doesn’t matter, but I love wearing their clothes. Is that strange? There’s just something about wearing their too-big t-shirts. Letting them—their smell—wrap all around me is like having them close to me all the time.
Oscar has just wrapped his arms around me after we get in bed when his phone rings. He breathes out. “If that’s one of them, no promises I won’t murder their asses.”
I smirk, but when he turns over, he answers it without any venom. The sheets gather at his waist as I play my hands up and down his back.
“Really?” Oscar asks.
The tone in his voice makes me stop.
“Yeah, thanks for telling me.” He breathes out, displeased. “No, no. I’ll take care of it.”
He hangs up the phone, resting it against his forehead.
“What’s up?”
“Another body found.” He pulls the phone away to scroll through his Contacts. He stops on Johnny’s name and presses Send. Whatever he answers with, Oscar says, “No, she’s fine.”
I smile at that, though Oscar doesn’t seem to think it’s sweet or cute or funny. “Body found in the alley just south of the boulevard. Candy in the pockets.” He pauses. “Yeah, one of our guys. My guy tells me it looks like it’s been there a couple of days. He called us first.”
Without another word, Oscar hangs up with a shrug. “What?” I ask.
“He said he’d take care of it.”
“Who is it?” I ask, mind already filled with nasty images of a ghostly white, decaying body. And bugs. I shiver.
Oscar pulls me close to him. “One of our low guys. A grunt.”
“If he died a couple of days ago...?”
“I know,” Oscar says, rubbing my arm nonchalantly. “Then that’s only a couple of days after Farmingham, and a level up, too.”
I finish his thought. “So, we could have another dead body on our hands shortly…”
“In theory,” he says.
We lie there, my mind working over what’s happened. Eventually, Oscar brushes a kiss over my temple. “Shh, Princess. Get some sleep. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
Oscar’s a sound sleeper. The next morning, I wake before him. Each movement I make on the bed doesn’t rouse him, so I start playing a little game. I trail my fingernails over his body. Still, his breathing is steady and even, eyes twitching under his lids.
I take it a step further, fingers brushing over his cock. In the middle of the night, he must have shed his boxers because he’s naked under the sheets. His dick twitches and grows. I swear, his heart pumps louder even though he hasn’t fully woken yet. I grip his dick in my hand, giving him small pumps. He rouses even more, moaning like he’s having a very good dream.
I bet he is, and I’m going to give him the best dream.
I push the covers away and scoot down the bed. I’ve already had a taste of Oscar, so I know what it feels like to have him in my mouth. My core clenches at the thought. Before he wakes up, I pull my shirt off and shimmy my panties down my legs, leaving us both bare. If this turns out the way I want it to, I won’t be needing these clothes, anyway.
I lick Oscar like a lollipop, swirling my tongue over his head. His hips jerk, and I grip him tighter, working him toward my lips. I take him all inside, humming.
“Ahh, fuck,” Oscar says sleepily. He tangles his hand in my hair, giving my head pressure. I glance up to meet his eyes, and his mouth is open in a silent “O” of surprise as I work him. “Fuck, Princess.”
I let his dick pop out of my mouth and grin at him. “Sorry. I wasn’t tired anymore.”
I push his hips to the bed and take him in my mouth again, running my lips down his length and back up.
“You undressed for me?” he asks huskily, reaching out to tweak my nipple.
I nod, the movement working my mouth over his cock.
“You’re moving in and never leaving,” he breathes out.
He’s so serious that I can’t help but smile, ruining the rhythm I had going on, but Oscar doesn’t mind. He takes my chin and moves me up to claim my lips. He groans as if he enjoys tasting himself on me. Liquid lust burns through me hot and needy. I crawl over his body, so turned on that I can barely think. His cock presses against my center, and I ease myself over him.
He lets me go, eyes shooting wide. “Kyla.” His surprise turns into a groan as I move over him. He lowers his gaze to where we meet, watching his cock disappear inside me. “You’re so tight,” he grinds out. “Fuck me.”
“I thought that’s what I was doing,” I tease.
He reaches up to play with my tits. “Take whatever you need from me, Princess.”
I grind down over him, my walls clenching around his hard ridges. “Fuck, Oscar.”
He grips my hips. “You like my cock inside you.”
“Yes, your bare cock.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Being this close to him without any barrier is a drug. I could shoot up with it and be high on life.
His dark, wild eyes watch my every movement. We grind against one another, and I lose myself in the chase of pleasure. I’m not quiet. I give Oscar every little piece I have inside me.
“Yes, right there.” I grind down over him, and he meets me, anchoring me with his hands on my hips.
The bed rocks and the frame hits the wall as I ride him. The rhythmic pattern of the thumps match my cries. “That’s right, Princess,” Oscar encourages. “Tell everyone.”
A low, throaty moan escapes me. I can’t wait until I can share my feelings for all of them with the world and not have to worry about the consequences. I don’t want to hide.
He cups my breasts as I increase my movements, slamming down on top of him as he spears me. “God, Oscar, I’m going to come,” I breathe.
His fingers curl into my skin. “Come on my hard cock?” He snakes his arms around to my ass, digging his fingers in while I thrash over top of him.
“Yes, right on your hard cock.” My orgasm hits, and it takes a heart-stopping moment before it slams into me full force. I cry out, and Oscar takes control of my hips to ride my orgasm out.
He flips me to all fours, entering me from behind before I’ve had a chance to fully recover. “Hands on the wall,” he commands
I crawl up the bed, reaching up to place my hands on the wall. Oscar moves with me until we’re at an all-new angle. “This tight hole is mine.” His strokes are relentless. A barrage that never stops until I scream his name as my core squeezes him. He takes a few deep breaths while I come, waiting until my own breaths even out before he starts again, his movements much slower this time, as if he wants to take his time.
“You like that dirty talk, Pr
incess,” he practically coos.
I moan in answer. He has no idea.
His thighs start to shake, but he keeps the same pace, pulling almost completely out and sliding in to the hilt in a dramatically slow fashion. Even when his breathing hitches and I can tell he’s moments away from spilling, he keeps the same pace, grinding into me before pulling almost all the way out, fingers tightening against my skin. “Fuck, Princess. Can I come inside you? I want to fill you.”
I move back against him in answer, and Oscar loses it. He yanks my hips against his, holding me there while his cock jerks inside me again and again, a seemingly never-ending climax that he breathes harshly through, finally biting my shoulder playfully.
You couldn’t pay me to move from this position. Oscar coming inside me, the tight hold he has on my body like he doesn’t want me to move away. The warmth that fills me and surrounds me.
The ultimate acceptance.
Oscar doesn’t pull out. He covers me with his body while we get our bearings until he eventually falls out. As soon as he does, he reaches around, drifting his hands down my stomach and pushes two fingers inside my sensitive cunt. He plays in his own cum, whispering dirty thoughts in my ear about leaving pieces of himself inside me. Branding me. Claiming me. I eat it up, thrusting against his fingers and rubbing my clit over his palm until I come so harshly, I fall to the bed, exhausted and worn out. He moves to my side, pulling me against him, his hand cupping my sticky mound and the mixture of both of us just dripping there onto his needy fingers.
He kisses my back. “You’re never leaving.”
32
Oscar and I lie in bed together until I have to get ready for training. Soon enough, Johnny will be calling, wanting to pick me up to take me to the gym. Oscar told everyone he could take me, but they agreed that the car was safer than Oscar’s bike. Plus, I’m all for the car since more of us can be around each other that way.
Johnny sends a text five minutes before he knocks on the door. Oscar lets him in as I finish up in the bathroom, pulling my hair into a high ponytail for training. There’s nothing worse than having your hair get into your face when you’re trying to knock someone out.