by V Vee
“Just tell me… What are you doing here?”
He pressed me back against the wall, placing one hand against the cool wood beside my head and leaned close.
“I heard you were getting married. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it wasn't to me.”
My breath caught in my lungs the minute Eddie leaned forward, getting even closer. His eyes had grown extremely dark, and his lips had thinned into an uncompromising line. I hadn’t seen him angry often, especially not directed towards me, but I had seen Eddie’s fury enough to know it wasn’t something I’d ever wanted directed my way. He’d never done so before. That was not so this time. From the way Eddie was glaring at me, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle me or…
No. Don’t go there. It’s too dangerous. You’re with Zander now. And there’s no telling what he would do if he found out that you and Eddie…
But Eddie either didn’t care about the danger we were facing if we allowed ourselves to give into the desire that still thrummed like electricity between us, or he wasn’t aware of it, because, between one breath and the next, he cursed beneath his breath, quickly took those last few steps and lifted me under my arms, in order to press me against the wall. Without thought, I wrapped my legs around his waist and shivered when his hands moved from my armpits down to grip my ass through the fabric of my pinstriped grey pants. She panted as her gaze collided with his own and what she saw in his eyes caused her to gasp.
Eddie nodded and squeezed her ass before he lowered his head, his lips hovering just an inch or two above her own.
“You seem to be under a very big misconception. And that’s the only reason I figure you would think it was okay to get engaged to someone who is not me. I would never, could never leave you, Heaven. You are the other half of me. You are the missing piece of my life. Of my heart. You are my breath. I don’t work without you. I left because I wanted to take care of you. I needed to prove myself to you. To my father. To myself. More than I ever had before. I’d decided to marry you, and I had to make sure I could take care of you after I did so.” He shook his head and I could feel my heart pounding against my sternum.
I swallowed and lifted my hands to tentatively set them on Eddie’s shoulders. The shudder that rippled through his big body caused me to bite my bottom lip. The very hard, very big, erection that pressed against my center made me moan softly.
“Y-you did?” I stammered.
Eddie nodded his head and smirked at me. He lowered his head more and rubbed his mouth against mine softly, so soft that it was almost as if a butterfly’s wings were brushing against my lips.
“Of course I did. Because you are mine, Heaven. You always have been. You always will be. And the only man you’re going to marry is me. So, I came back to let you know that I’m not playing around. We belong together, we always have, and I won’t rest until we are again.”
I gasped again and stared at Eddie in surprise. “W-what?”
One corner of his lips lifted into a half-smile and he nodded. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’ve come back to stop your wedding and take you for myself.”
And with that Eddie gave me the very thing I’d been dreaming about since he left for the Marines all those years ago. He kissed me. Hard. Furiously. Passionately. With tongue, teeth. It was nasty. It was full of saliva and tongues and moaning. It was wrong. It was stupid.
It was perfect.
Just as it always had been.
Nia: The Irishman’s Sister
Niamh
The Untouchable
I was lying in bed the first time it happened. Six years old with a head full of dreams and a blossoming crush on one of my brother, Andrew’s, friends, when my “uncle” stepped into my room. Seeing him there at that hour wasn’t necessarily a surprise. There were always men in my father’s house. Many of them worked for the man who had adopted me. They showed my mother respect and they called me “The Untouchable” just as they had names for each of my brothers: The Irishman, The God, The Brain... we were the McCarthy children. Our father was the Boss. The head of the mob and we—we were his progeny. His greatest treasures. The future of Clan McCarthy.
Which was why I’d smiled at my “uncle” when he first stepped into the room. That smile faded when he locked the door behind him. It became a frown when he came and sat on the bed next to me. And it became gasping cries of pain and terror as he stole my innocence from me.
He’d violated me.
Molested and raped me.
He’d taken something that didn’t belong to him and he’d told me to be grateful that he’d done so. Because I was a black girl. Because my skin was so dark. Because I would grow up to become an “ugly darkie”.
He’d watched me the entire time. One hand over my mouth to silence my screams and one on my pink headboard. There’d been a small smile on his face throughout the whole thing. As if he enjoyed my pain. Delighted in my suffering.
At one point he’d licked the tears streaming down my cheeks and smacked his lips as if he relished the taste of my despair. The inky darkness of my room choked me. The silence in the air sounded loud to me. A silent scream in my ears. My teddy bears and stuffed animals all looked like monsters, their big eyes that never closed, that had once been a comfort to me, were now judging me. Their dark irises reflecting the evil that was being done to me.
When he was finished, my “uncle” rose from the bed and fixed his clothes. He didn’t seem to care about the blood that stained my sheets or decorated his now softened shaft. He seemed almost... proud. As if gloating that he’d been there first.
My body was wracked with pain. My heart was shattered. My brain was fuzzy and filled with the screams I hadn’t been able to release into the atmosphere. I waited for... something. I wasn’t sure what. Perhaps for my father to storm in and shoot the man who had brought such devastation to his daughter’s world. Or one of my brothers. Maybe all of them. Entering as an army, their faces twisted in rage and fury as they ripped my uncle apart.
But no one came.
Instead, my uncle pointed at me, his lips curled into a snarl, and issued a warning and a promise...
“If you tell anyone about this, I will slaughter your entire family and make you an orphan again. With no family. No brothers. No one to care about you. I won’t kill you. Only them. Besides—“ He reached out to trail a finger along my damp cheek. “I know you enjoyed it. And this won’t be the last time. Oh no. You’re mine now, Niamh. And I will have you wherever and whenever I want. And I have some friends who will just love satisfying their hunger for Negro women with you. So get your rest. You’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”
With that, he left the room, and I curled into a ball and prayed for death.
But death never came.
At least not then.
Instead, a rage unlike anything I had ever felt had been born inside of me. And with it, my need for fire. I burned the heels of my feet the next night when he brought me home from our “field trip”; my family blissfully unaware of the men who had used me like a sex doll. Not realizing that a family friend was behind the loss of my smile.
Two weeks later, however, they knew that I was different. That something had changed. Because my brother, Andrew, had to be called to come and clean up the fire I had started. The fire I’d set at the homes of one of the men who’d stolen more of soul. The one who had repeatedly called me a nigger.
It was a fire that cleansed that filthy word from my head. One that I had enjoyed watching burn, knowing that no one could escape the home since I had placed padlocks and chains at every entrance and exit. Just as no one had rescued me, there would be no reprieve for him.
And none for his family. The best way to get rid of a cancerous cell was to burn down the entire root.
Watching that fire? It was the first time I’d smiled in weeks.
I was changed, even more, after that.
I had no remorse for what I’d done, and I knew 3 things to be true at that moment:
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One, my family would always be there to clean up my messes.
Two, fire was deadly, but it was also cleansing.
And three, everyone was afraid of my father, my brothers, the men of Clan McCarthy but it was me, Niamh McCarthy, they should be scared of. I was the deadliest of us all.
About The Author
You Can’t Spell Love Without V
V. Vee is just another one of the pennames of International Bestselling and Award-Winning author V. A. Bailey who also writes under the names: Vicktor Alexander, Veronica Victorian, V. Alex, Leyah, ShaKira, Alexandra Bailey, and Vee Bailey. One of 9 different pennames used by the author, V. Vee is the one dedicated to bringing to life the love between men and women in interracial, multicultural, and non-traditional relationships. From princes falling in love with women of different classes and races, to women in power falling in love with the men committed to serving them, V. Vee is sure to live up to the creed: Mixing sexiness, romance, and equality to create true love.
A single parent, disabled veteran, and a child of veterans, V. Vee has lived all over the US nation, and even Cuba, but dreams of one day returning to either New York or California…if Boston doesn’t work out. Any place is fine as long as it’s not Florida. V. Vee loves to hear from readers and is completely open to hearing about the single brother you have who may be bisexual, or gay, or the family member who is trans, or a veteran, or how you want to be an author someday. Just be sure to label the email appropriately, it’s embarrassing to offer writing advice to potential husbands.
Really. It is.
Website: http://vveetheauthor.wordpress.com
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Email: [email protected]
More From V. Vee
The Bad Boy Princes Of Malvidence
A Royal Secret
The Royal Nanny
The Royal Beauty
The Royal Diva (Coming Soon)
Woodland Pack
Growl’s Queen: The Full Novel
Howl’s Beauty
Roar’s Goddess (Coming Soon)
Wedding Crashing
Her Wedding
Their Wedding (Coming Soon)
Athlete’s Wives
Perfectly Crazy (Prequel)
Balls & Booties (Coming Soon)
For The Love Of The Irish
The Mad Kitty (Prequel)
The Irishman
Kyra: The Irishman’s Wife
Nia: The Irishman’s Sister (Coming Soon)
Galvin: The Irishman’s Brother (Coming Soon)
Malvidencian Royals
A French Romance
The Royal Baker (Found in The Royal Court Anthology)
Loving An Officer
Cuffed and Unashamed (Coming Soon)
Lingerie
Say Yes (Coming Soon)
Eddie & Heaven
Twisted Affair
Twisted Secrets
Twisted Promises (Coming 2021)
A Twisted Finale (Coming 2021)
NY Vampires
Bound (Coming Soon)
Feline Assassins
I Am Command
Panther (Coming Soon)
Standalones
Bellissima Donna Crudele (Once Upon A Villain, 10)
The Final Battle (Coming Soon)
Nikki & Tommy’s Enchantment (Coming Soon)
One For My Baby (Coming Soon)
From Leyah (Dark Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Paranormal Romance Pen Name):
Burn The World Down Book 1
Burn The World Down Book 2 (Coming Soon)
Burn The World Down Book 3 (Coming Soon)
Blood On Their Hands (Coming Soon)
Coming Soon From V. Vee
Heaven & Eddie’s Series
Coming Soon From VA Presents, LLC.
One Last Call
“Will you marry me… again?”
Lorraine Wentos turned away from the bathroom mirror where she had been standing in front of, putting on her makeup for a night out with her husband, and smiled at the sight of him on one knee. Her heart pounded beneath her ribcage and her hands grew damp at the sight of the diamond ring her man was holding up in front of her. Even now, after all these years of marriage, of knowing each other, of being in love, and she still got butterflies in her stomach just looking at him.
Christopher Wentos still looked like a football player, even though he’d retired from the NFL five years beforehand in order to pursue a career in medicine. His blond hair was brushed away from his forehead and his blue eyes shone with love and good humor as they always did. Since the first time they met in the third grade, when Christopher shoved a boy—Pedro Guitierrez—who’d pulled her hair.
Lorraine had loved him ever since.
And she loved him even more now.
“What are you doing, Chris?” She gasped, raising a hand to cover her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
“Isn’t it obvious, woman?” Christopher laughed. “I’m proposing to you.”
Lorraine wiped away the tears that filled her eyes. “You’re proposing to me now after ten years of marriage and three kids?”
Christopher nodded, not moving from his position on the floor. “Yes, I am, because it’s been ten years and we have three kids, and I think you and I need to get back to being #Chraine, instead of only being Mom and Dad,” he said, using the nickname their friends had given them in high school.
Lorraine laughed. “Oh man, I haven’t heard that name in forever!” She looked down into the beautiful, square-jawed face of her husband, with his dark blond stubble, thin nose, thick blond hair, tanned skin, broad shoulders, and hard-muscled body with its barrel chest, trim waist, tree-trunk thighs, big hands, and big feet. Her husband was gorgeous and knew it too. And so did every woman–and some men–who saw him.
“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you when we were in college and you proposed the first time, Chris,” Lorraine started. “Of course I will marry you. I will follow you everywhere and do whatever I have to, in order to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Christopher slipped the ring on the third finger of her right hand and rose to kiss her deeply. Lorraine moaned as the taste of her husband washed over her tongue and wrapped her arms around him tightly. It was a long moment before they separated, and even then, it was only because the sound of their children laughing made both of them chuckle.
Christopher placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and stepped back. “You go finish getting dressed. I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?” Lorraine asked with a chuckle.
“I forgot your roses,” he replied shaking his head. “I was kind of in a rush to get home and give you this ring.” He gestured at the two-carat diamond that was almost identical to the one he’d given her all those years ago.
“I don’t need flowers,” Lorraine protested.
“Roses, woman. I’m getting you roses. And those you always need.” Without another word, he placed a quick kiss on her lips and walked out of their bedroom, tossing the words: “I love you” over his shoulder.
When the police arrived three hours later, to inform her that Christopher had been killed in a horrific, tragic car accident just a mile away from their home, Lorraine was devastated.
Broken.
She’d told him she didn’t need those flowers.
But He’s A Man
Roman
He was looking at me again.
I glanced up from the kettlebell stand where I stood and found his gaze on me. I shivered slightly and cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact that whenever I was here at the gym, he was here, and he stared at me. If it had been anyone else, anywhere else, at any other time, I would be waiting for him outside the gym so I could beat his ass into a bloody pulp.
But it was HIM.
The man, older than me, with his closely cropped salt and pepper hair, a thickly muscled, barrel chest that was covered with hair, a thick dark goatee that surrounded surprisingly full lips, big hands, hazel-green eyes, and thick thighs, was the man who had starred in my most private of fantasies. I stared at him almost as much as he stared at me. But I wasn’t so obvious about it. I was twenty-six. A single father. An English teacher at the local high school.
And I was straight.
Ish.
I think.
Maybe.
Or at least I’d thought I was. Up until the moment I saw HIM and now... now I was questioning myself. Because his gaze on me didn’t make me angry. It thrilled me. It made me nervous.
It turned me on.
And I didn’t know WHAT to do about it.
It made me wonder if my parents had been right about my summer with Chad being just a phase.
He was the first, and so far, the ONLY, man I’d ever been attracted to since that summer back when I was twelve. And I’d seen him with a number of the gym bunnies and heard their stories about him. About how he was only into one-night stands because of the two women he’d been married to before. One he lost to cancer after only being married for three years, and the other he’d divorced after being married for sixteen years, and three kids, when she cheated on him.
I’d heard all about how he’d “plowed” his way through the female trainers, but how no one resented him.
I’d also heard how he’d stopped sleeping around with anyone at the gym about six months ago.
Around the time I started coming to the gym.
I didn’t want to read too much into it. But as he did bicep curls with fifty-pound weights in both hands, his eyes never left mine. My mouth went dry. My hands grew clammy with sweat.