by T Steele
My father and John both chuckle at my words and I roll my eyes.
My father signs something in his book and then shows it to us. It’s a contract showing my father’s signature and two blank spaces with X’s where I’m assuming mine and John’s will go as well.
“If you two just sign here,” he uses the tip of the pen to point to the other X’s on the paper. “The casino will be yours.” He doesn’t look us in the eye as he slides the paper to us. Then, he clears his throat. “And John won’t need to kill as much. The Balla Ragazza will be your joint responsibility from here on out. Ruby can sing there if she wants and there will always be an extra jump suit in the barn if she wants to work there as well.”
Holy shit! This is really happening. Elation courses through me and I want to jump on top of the desk and dance. I glance at John with a huge smile on my face.
He’s staring at my father like he’s never seen him and then he takes a concealed dagger out of his pants, and slices his palm. He brings it to my father’s hand and shakes hard. “I won’t let you down again.”
My father nods then grabs his dagger and repeats the move John had just done. They both drop a few drops into their shot glasses and my father fills them with whiskey. They clink their glasses together. “Because of silence,” they both say aloud, their voices low and sincere.
“You’ll always have me at your back,” John says in his low, deep voice.
I suddenly feel awkward again watching my father and John’s weird relationship. It shows they’ve known each other for a long time and regardless of what went down, I don’t think my father ever lost his trust in John.
“Do I need to slice my palm, too?” My voice breaks through the silence, small and unsure.
“No,” says John immediately, and then eyes my father, unsure. “Right?”
“I would make anyone else do it, but you do share my blood. That has to count for something.”
I lift my chin. “I’ll do it.” I pick up John’s dagger and swipe it across my shirt, before slicing my palm. Out of the corner of my eye, I see John recoil, but I continue. I drop a few drips into my father’s shot glass before holding it out for him to shake. He gives me a proud smile that reminds me of how far I’ve come. I don’t think many women my age would be able to relate to drinking blood filled shots of whiskey with their father to seal a binding contract of trust.
My father touches my fingers softly, and shakes them before bringing my hand to his lips for a fatherly kiss. “I am your father, Ruby. Your blood relative. That means something to me. I don’t want you to be a prisoner in your own home, but I’m trusting you to take safety precautions and never leave the house alone. I want you to feel comfortable here, and I hope that this can be the first step towards us truly trusting each other.”
I nod, and manage to muster up a smile. “Thank you.”
He nods, and puts the tiniest drop of blood into another shot glass and fills our cups with whiskey and we drink it back together. I grimace, rubbing at my chest, trying to hold back the cough that wants to come out.
My father and John smile at me and it’s the weirdest thing to see equal amounts of softness and love toward me from these two hardened criminals, and I can’t help the little flip in my chest. John’s never been able to look at me so openly. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever even showed me that much emotion before.
“Now, get out of here,” my father says when John and I stare at each other like two love sick teenagers. “But don’t let me fucking catch you touching in any way.” My dad grimaces and fills his shot glass again and throws it back only to repeat the move a second time. He slams the glass on the table enough to cause it to vibrate a little. “We’re definitely not there yet.”
John gives a curt nod and stands gracefully. “Thanks again, Boss,” he says and then looks to me.
I stand, too and on a whim walk behind my father’s desk and throw my arms around him. He stiffens before his hands wrap around me, too. “I’ll fucking kill anyone who hurts you, daughter,” he whispers and I smile against his shoulder.
That’s his way of saying “I love you.”
“I know.”
And then, I stand and walk with John out of the room.
I go in the direction of my bedroom, but John stops me with a hand and a subtle shake of head. My cheeks flush, and I follow him. We walk together and I grin to myself at how hard we’re trying to pretend that we don’t want to rip each other’s clothes off.
When John’s door comes into view he picks up his pace and reaches his door before I do. He opens it for me and as soon as I’m inside and the door shuts, he slams me against it, kissing me.
“Are you okay?” he asks against my lips.
“I am now,” I say, but tears still fall from my eyes.
John breaks the kiss and he looks pained. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispers. And I cry harder.
I bury my face into his neck and take a deep inhale. “I can’t ever go through all that again.”
“Me either,” says John. “I missed you so much.”
My legs and arms tighten around him and we stay that way for a while and then he walks with me in the bathroom.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” John says, and he’s so cute to me in that moment, trying to take care of me, when his facial expression tells me that he’s clearly out of his element. He really is so much like a lost boy at times and I can’t help but love him even more for it. All of him. Every part of him, I love and wouldn’t change a thing.
“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine,” I say wrapping my arms around him once more. The words were supposed to be sexy, but they come out quiet and hoarse. I sniff once more and then force my tears to stop.
I turn on his shower and wait for the water to reach the right temperature. Then, I grab the waistband of his pants and start unbuttoning them.
When I’m finished he’s already removed the top half of his clothing. I go to take my own shirt off and he stops me. “Let me,” he says roughly.
I close my eyes and raise my arms. I can feel the fabric rising up against my skin until it’s off and on the floor followed by the jeans I was wearing, which are a little tight so John pulls them off of me, turning them inside out.
He stands to his full height and stares at me, his eyes glide over every inch of my body and his cock instantly hardens. My whole body heats under his gaze and I imagine there’s a blush blanketing my face all the way down to my toes.
“How are you so fucking perfect?” he asks softly, deeply.
I smile shyly up at him. I doubt his words will never not have an affect on me.
I stand on my toes, throwing my arms around his neck and smashing my lips to his. He groans and lifts me fully off my feet. Making things easier for us instead of bending down to my height.
I break away from the kiss. “Not as perfect as you.”
He throws his head back and lets out a deep laugh, making my toes curl. “I’ve been called a lot of things. Perfect has never been one of them.”
“You’re perfect for me,” I say and bring his hand down to my already soaked core, surprising him and myself and then he smiles wickedly, licking his lips. I continue, “No one else could do this to me. You’re perfect for me and me alone.”
John’s voice is guttural when he responds. “Did I mention how much I love when my little Ruby gets possessive.” He flattens my palm on top of my clit and then lays his hand over mine, completely engulfing it. He presses down firmly and starts moving our hands in circles together. My head falls back, then his lips kiss along my throat. “I know what you’re trying to do, Ruby, and the fact that you’re trying to make a piece of shit like myself feel worthy of an angel like you just proves how much better you are than me,” John rasps, his chest heaving. “But I’ll never think I’m worthy of this.”
I bite at his lips and he growls deeply from the back of his throat. I pull away from his lips to nibble at his ear and trail kisses down his neck. My fingers d
ig into his hair, tugging at it.
“You put me up on a pedestal.”
“It’s what you deserve.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach at his words, and he speeds up the movement of our hands still over my clit and I start bucking my hips, but I force myself to stay aware and stare him directly in the eye.
“If you think so highly of me then you should know I wouldn’t just fall in love with anyone. I wouldn’t just let some ‘piece of shit’ touch me like this.”
His eyes scan my face almost as if he’s looking for any sign of deceit. Like he’s wondering when I’m going to laugh and say, “Just kidding. I’m way too good for you!”
My body is starting to tremble as a light sheen of sweat coats my skin. He doesn’t stop our hand movements, but he still scans my face adoringly, admiring it, studying it.
“God, you’re so good,” he says, kissing me softly, running his tongue over the seam of my bottom lip. “So perfect.”
He stops our hand movements and brings my hand to his mouth licking my juices off of it. My breasts feel heavy and tingly, the walls of my sex clench hard and I arch, needing friction. Needing more. Needing him.
“Mmm . . .” he says. “So. Fucking. Sweet.”
The cold rim of the sink shocks my skin when he picks me up and sets me down on it, but I don’t care. My hands find purchase on the sink behind me, and I arch my back, begging for him to touch my breast. My legs are spread as wide as they can. I’m drunk with desire. My breath comes out in short bursts, and John could ask anything of me right now, tomorrow, next year, and I would fucking obey.
He braces his arms on both sides of me on the sink. He kisses me, the taste of myself still lingering on his lips and I moan at the intimacy of it. Then his nose skims the shell of my ear and down to my neck where he leaves a soft kiss at my pulse point.
“Tell me what you want, Ruby,” John whispers in my ear causing me to shiver. Steam from the shower has filled the bathroom at this point and we still haven’t even gotten in, but I don’t think even a literal house fire could make me move from this spot with John.
“Touch me. Please touch me,” I beg, my voice soft and throaty.
“Where?” he whispers. “Tell me in specific detail what you want.” Now, his big hands are sliding along my inner thighs. When he gets close to the wet, throbbing ache between my legs, his hands retreat back down to my knees only to return back to my inner thighs.
I moan loudly. “My breasts,” I pant out. “Suck them.”
Then, my breasts are in John’s hands and he flicks his tongue over one nipple while his thumb roams over the other.
I cry out as my hips buck, responding instantly to John’s touch.
“Harder,” I say.
“Fuck yes. Tell me how much you like it,” John says before splaying his palms on my back and pulling me to him, pulling more of my breast into his mouth. His teeth clamp around my nipple and then his tongue flicks over the hard bud rapidly.
“Oh, God, John!” I scream. “That feels so good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”
John groans out a deep noise of approval as he furiously moves to the other breasts, doing the same thing, giving them equal attention.
My arms start to tremble, tiring from there stiff position of holding my body weight when I feel like I’m melting into a puddle of goo. My inner walls clench hard and unintelligible noises leave my lips in a high pitched purr.
“Inside. Me. Now.”
My voice is uneven and breathy and my brain is only focused on the feel of his mouth against me, but John obeys immediately, and shoves inside me to the hilt.
The ecstasy hits me forcefully like a blow. My nails dig into his back as I hang on for dear life. My sex grips his cock tightly, my legs clamp together around his ass and my toes curl into his upper thighs. It’s euphoria as he pounds into me. His thrust are precise, hitting my G spot with each drive of his hips.
My hips move uncontrollably and forcefully. “More,” I breathe.
“Yes,” John grunts. “Fuck, Ruby, you feel so good. I love the way your pussy grips me so tightly. It rules me and tames my beast and makes me feel like I’m loosing my fucking mind all at the same time. You could ask me to run my skin over a burning candle and watch it melt and I’d fucking do it. I’d fucking do anything for you.” His voice is deep and velvety and I start pulsing around his cock once more. His words alone could make me orgasm. They were like a warm balm over my skin and extra foreplay that I always looked forward too.
“I’d never want you to hurt yourself,” I pant.
John lifts me from the sink, his lips crashing onto mine. His tongue delves into my mouth, dominating yet soft. He loves the control, but he also loves when I have it, too.
He slides the door to the shower open and, grabbing onto the shower handle, he propels us both under the water which isn’t as hot as when I first turned it on, but still warm.
“Hold on,” he grits out, the water making his hair mat to his face and he still looks sexy as fuck and I moan loudly again, tightening my arms around his neck.
My breasts start bouncing wildly and he pounds into me mercilessly. Our skin starts slapping, echoing even louder in the bathroom and I’ve never been more thankful for soundproof walls.
His hands squeeze my ass, spreading it wider and his fingers roam to the hole behind the one he’s currently occupying and I throw my head back against the shower wall, not even feeling the pain because the pleasure I’m feeling is so intense it overrides everything else.
I feel his cock pulse inside me and he throws his head back, roaring out his release.
We shake and pant together blissfully in our shared releases. “I love you. God, I love you so fucking much, John.”
“I love you, too. I need you, Ruby. I’ve never fucking needed anyone or anything, but you . . . fuck, you leave a room for a few minutes and I’m like an addict fiending. Can you handle that?”
“There’s nothing to handle when it comes to you, John. Everything is always just ‘yes’. My brain revolves around all the things I can do to make you happy. To make you smile. To be what you need.”
“You’ll always be exactly what I need without even trying,” he says, kissing my forehead and slowly pulling out of me.
I smile up at him and he bends to give me one last kiss before saying, “Turn around.”
I do and hear the squirt of shampoo as he pours it onto his hand. He starts massaging it into my hair and then sudsing up a washcloth. He runs that over my body as well and then moves me under the water. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting all the soap rinse off my body.
I open my eyes and his intense ice-blue eyes are watching my every move. I smile again and grab the shampoo, pouring some into my hand.
“Come down here,” I laugh.
He smirks, but listens anyway. His curly hair turns into a frothy, bubbly mess and I can’t help but laugh. The tough hitman with a hair full of suds is something that will always be hilarious to me. I put a hand to my stomach and bend over as my laughter overcomes me.
John laughs, too. “Did you not think I ever washed my hair?”
This throws me into even more hysterics. “You—you—” I stutter and then take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of my emotions. “You look like Santa Claus. Wait!” I say when he grimaces.
I giggle maniacally as I pour more shampoo into my palm and rub my hands together quickly making them foam with soap and rub it over the light dusting of facial hair on John’s face.
I lean back against the wall crying with laughter. It’s to the point where I’m not even making noise any more and my abs hurt.
When I finally catch my breath and straighten from my hunched over position, John’s smiling at me.
“My suffering was worth seeing you laugh like that.”
I smile from ear to ear as I throw my arms around him and we stand under the water together, letting it rinse off the soap along with the sweat we’d worked up with ea
rlier activities.
We stay like that for a while until the water finally cools and then we get out and dry off.
John grabs one of his t-shirts and throws it over my head and then grabs a pair of underwear from his drawers.
I’m about to ask why the fuck he has women’s panties in his drawers, but then I furrow my brow as he helps me into them. I recognize the underwear. They’re mine I’d worn here weeks ago when he’d freaked because of Ryder.
“Keeping souvenirs?” I ask softly.
John shoots me a devilish grin. “Always.”
He shrugs into a pair of boxers and then straightens as his eyes probe mine, his head cocks to the side, and I know he’s thinking about the same incident.
“I can’t promise not to do something like that again. But I can promise not to hurt you and to keep you safe.”
I grin, knowing how hard he tries for me. “It’s okay. I don’t need any promises.”
It’s subtle, but John stiffens and now I cock my head to the side, frowning. “What is it?” I ask.
“You may not need any promises, but I do. Of course you don’t need promises from someone like me, but someone like me needs promises from you. I’d be stupid not to make you mine at the first chance I got.”
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, John. I am yours. And you’re mine, right?” At his nod, I smile. “I trust in that.”
John continues to stare at me and though I know him, probably better than anyone ever has—and that thought thrills me—he’s extra hard to read in this moment.
“Just say it.” I cross my arms. “I know something’s on your mind.”
John chokes out a laugh. “Alright, that confirms it.”
I throw my hands in the air exasperated. “What?”
He walks away from me. Actually walks away after one of the weirdest conversations we’ve ever had and that’s saying something.
I count to three, taking a deep inhale before following after him.
He’s inside his walk-in closet, crouched down fiddling in something. He finds whatever it is he was looking for and then stands. When he turns around, he's holding something small that he’s hiding from me in his large hands.