48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel)

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48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel) Page 12

by SH Richardson


  My blood.

  “The journey wasn’t long, Darragh.” She smiled. “Did you really think I could stay away after not seeing you for so long? The other night at the party, I could hardly believe my eyes. You’ve changed so much from the young man I used to know.”

  “Yeah, that tends to happen when the woman you love stabs you in the fucking back. Now, if you don’t mind, kindly get the fuck outta my sight.”

  Bella stood from her seat and used her small hands to smooth down the front of her sweater. Her tits looked amazing as she threw her shoulders back and approached cautiously. My demand to leave ignored, I fought to control my dick from getting hard.

  “I’ve missed you, Darragh,” she cooed. “Have you missed me?”

  “No.” The lie tumbled smoothly from my lips. Not a minute went by that I didn’t think of her. A flash of hurt clouded her beautiful face but didn’t stop her from advancing.

  “You were never far from my heart, Darragh. I kept you here.” She reached for my hand and gently placed it on her chest. “A vow I never broke, no matter our time apart.”

  “The fuck is this bullshit, Bella? I wasn’t the one who up and decided that third in line wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t the one who jumped at the chance to marry a boss. I wasn’t the one who broke your fucking heart. That was all you, baby. Get out,” I growled.

  “I can’t…please don’t send me away, Darragh,” she begged.

  Something snapped inside of me then, a primal instinct to reclaim what was rightfully mine. What should have always been mine. I grabbed her outstretched wrist, securing it around her back, and hauled her towards me, closer, so that our bodies molded together. It felt good to have her in my arms, too fucking good, but I didn’t stop there. I took her mouth at the same time leaning over her, crowding her, sealing her between my desk and my rock-hard dick seeking entrance behind a terrycloth towel. The only thing missing were words.

  I had none for this situation.

  Perhaps because none were needed.

  I spun her around and bent her over the desk. She neither resisted nor voiced an objection. The towel I wore was tossed haphazardly on the floor beside us. My dick bobbed up and down with anticipation. She might not have come here for this, but it was happening nonetheless. I grabbed her breast and pinched her nipple through the fabric, something I remembered she liked. It wasn’t long before she was unbuckling her pants of her own accord, shimmying them down her thighs along with her black lace thong. I took a small step back, allowing her the space she needed to offer up her luscious ass for the taking.

  Make no mistake, I would take it.

  Old shit I fought hard to forget about—betrayal, feelings of inadequacy, helplessness, burning—it all came roaring back with a vengeance. I reached inside the desk drawer, grabbed a foil package, sheathed my cock, and lined up. I put everything I had into that first thrust. Her warm pussy welcomed me in like an old worn shoe thrown to the back of the closet. We moaned in unison as her inner walls stretched to accommodate my size. I wasn’t an eighteen-year-old boy anymore. I was all man. A man who’d fucked a lot of women since the last time I was inside of her pussy. I anchored my forearm over her back and pressed down as far as she would go. My hard thrusts lifted her off the ground with their intensity. Fucking Bella had always been intense, otherworldly even, but the act was invariably out of love. Not tonight, this was all about hate.

  We were both panting and sweating like a couple of animals, grunting and snarling, fingers scratching along the wood of the desk. Instinctively, I grabbed a fistful of her silky hair, pulling it at the root, until my balls drew up tight and I shot my load with a guttural roar.

  Who loves you, baby?

  The empty release filled my soul with regret. My headspace clouded over with disgust. I grabbed the towel from the floor and covered myself while Bella pulled up her pants and tried to hide her own shame. I’d just fucked a Made Man’s wife, but instead of feeling triumphant, I felt hollow inside. There were no winners here, just unfinished business. At least that’s what I told myself as I held open the door, effectively dismissing her from my sight. There were rules against this sort of behavior, long-standing traditions involving another man’s property, including his wife. There would be consequences if anyone found out. I might have just signed my own death warrant, but what was done was done, couldn’t take it back now.

  Shoulders back with purse in hand, she barely spared me a glance as she left the office.

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Who loves you, baby?

  CHAPTER 20

  Otelia

  JESUS, ODIE.

  What the fuck are you doing back here?

  I had to do some serious fast talking to get Dave to drop me off in front of the closed furniture store so late at night. He clearly thought I’d lost my mind when we pulled up to the darkened building and I jumped out the front seat of the car. I assured him I knew what I was doing and wished him well on the rest of his manure conference. Shitty of me, I know, but I’d already made up my mind to do this, and his sour-puss face wasn’t going to stop me. Maybe I’d make a donation to the Save the Earth foundation in his name or something? That should ease my conscience enough to get me through the rest of the night.

  My sky-high platform heels made it difficult for me to navigate the winding tunnel of the parking garage. By the time I’d reached the landing, I was out of breath, panting like an overworked dog, sweaty and one hundred percent a hot mess. Luckily, the little black cocktail dress I wore was sleeveless. Lord knows my pits were probably little lakes by now. A group of three or four well-dressed men passed my slumped-over form on their way to the entrance. They were so engrossed in their manly conversation about pussy, they didn’t notice when I slid in behind them and pretended to be one of the boys. When the big security guard had them raise their arms for the metal detector, I raised mine too. Fuck it. That got me through the door.

  Now what?

  Everything was just as I remembered, except tonight, there were bodies wall to wall. The overhead lighting was purposefully dim, similarly to a dance club where people were expected to drink and mingle. The ventilation system was amazing. Instead of smelling like old sweat socks and skid mark underwear, the atmosphere was fragrantly spiced with jasmine. Scantily-clad servers walking around with trays of long-stemmed champagne flutes. Real crystal at a fight club? What sort of trickery was this? I narrowly avoided being knocked over by a group of raucous businessmen waving their betting slips in the air, hooting and hollering for the fights to begin. One of them looked as if he belonged in a nursing home, he was so old. I was definitely out of my element in this place. I was starting to think this was a huge mistake on my part.

  Too late now.

  I stepped towards the betting cages and took out a wad of cash. The pleasant-looking gentleman behind the gate greeted me with a warm smile and an expectant look. I hadn’t the slightest idea what the hell I was doing, but when in Rome and all that.

  “I’d like to place a bet,” I told him.

  “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he said behind the glass partition. “Eight bouts scheduled for tonight. Who’d you have in mind?”

  “What are my choices?”

  “There’s Outdoor Jack versus Tugboat Jones in the first fight, Sledgehammer Dick versus Stock Boy Roy in the second…”

  He ended up going over the full lineup, quoting stats and odds-on favor. My mind checked out somewhere between even money and the matchup bet. I honestly didn’t think my measly ten dollars was worth all the hoopla. It was the experience that counted. I thanked him for his help and stowed away my little white slip. The allure of this place was intoxicating. I could see why so many would risk possible incarceration if the police raided the building.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the queen of the short stack.” Fuck my life.

  I knew the voice before turning around to face its owner. I cringed internally before plastering on my patented fake-as-
fuck Nipsy’s smile. I should’ve known I’d run into this walking excuse of a self-made whore the second I stepped in here. It was still so hard to believe that this twatwaffle was the sister of my best friend. Kind and considerate Maribel versus the queen of fellatio. Obviously, she was birthed from their mother’s asshole like a stinking pile of shit instead of pushed from her dilated vagina. That was the sensible explanation.

  “Marci,” I gritted.

  “I never figured you for a gore and guts type,” she accused with self-assured confidence.

  “What can I say? I’m a pound-of-flesh type of girl. I’m sure you can relate to all that...” I waved a hand around to emphasize her skimpy little cocktail dress.

  “Wanna know what I think?” She snaked out her vicious tongue and stepped into my personal space. “I think you want another shot at Darragh MacCabe. That’s it, isn’t it? Look at you, all dressed in your Sunday best. You might’ve even taken the time to wash the grease smell from behind your ears. I applaud your effort, girlfriend, but give it up. MacCabe wouldn’t be caught dead with a woman like you.”

  Did she just?

  Oh no, she didn’t.

  I stared at Marci with a curious expression on my face. Then, with all the flair I could muster, I made a blatant show of leaning towards the left, then the right. Having seen enough, I stood straight up and chuckled in her face.

  “Um…what the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for the straps to the suspenders, you know, the ones holding up your worn-out pussy so it doesn’t drag on the ground when you walk. Since your father is a doctor and all, you should consider vaginal rejuvenation. I’m told it’s the next best thing since Botox.”

  “Temper, temper, slick. I’m trying to do you a favor.” Yeah, right. My ass, you are.

  She stepped closer, if that were at all possible, and lowered her voice conspiratorially near my ear. Her warm breath fanned across my face and made me gag with the knowledge that she more than likely had recently finished sucking a dick. Ulk.

  “Darragh MacCabe doesn’t do love, poor thing. If he wanted you, he would’ve kept you around after the match, but he didn’t, did he? Save yourself the heartache, girlfriend. Woman to woman, you don’t have what it takes to satisfy a man like him. That cock of his is pure gold. Never tasted anything like it in my life.” She leaned in further. “And I plan to take more.”

  The retort I was mulling over died a slow death when our little soirée was interrupted by a deep rumbly throat clearing. A man stood between the two of us in a well-cut tuxedo sipping amber liquid from a tumbler. He raked his eyes over the Barbie bitch before settling them on my shocked and curious ones. The guy, whoever he was, was a fucking beast. Big and broad as an English oak, his body was made for climbing. Not as cockily sexy as Mac, but he still had it going on. Dark brown hair that was tied at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, a strong nose and chiseled cheekbones, he was every bit as imposing as he tried to portray.

  “How are you enjoying yourself this fine evening…?” He extended a meaty paw in my direction, completely ignoring the strumpet to my right.

  “Odie.” I timidly placed my hand in his.

  “Odie. That’s an unusual name for someone so beautiful. My name is Ferdinand O’Leary. You may call me Ferdi if you wish.”

  “Ferdi, huh?” I raised a brow. “Such an unusual name for such a handsome man.”

  The good-looking behemoth boomed out a laugh that totally took me by surprise. He left me no choice but to smile back at him like a deranged lunatic. I liked him immediately. Marci, on the other hand, looked as if someone had reached down her throat and poured lemon juice on her spleen. Chick was incensed. Hand on the hip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, lips pursed, anything to take his attention off me and direct it towards her. What could I say? I was a softy. I let her off the hook before she blew a blood vessel.

  “Ferdi, do you know Marci?” I made the introductions.

  “Sure,” he replied, smirking. “She’s a regular patron to our establishment. You, on the other hand, are most definitely new around here, Odie.”

  “You weren’t saying that the night you stuck your dick down my throat, Ferdi.” She tried to shove me out of the way. “There’s more tricks where that came from, big man.”

  Ugh. What a tramp.

  If I’d said it once, I’d said it a hundred times. No way did this chick come from the same gene pool as my bestie. I took a few steps away from the two of them hoping to dodge that splash of yuck coming from Marci’s mouth and gave them a wide birth to continue their salacious conversation. Ferdi missed the sour look Barbie bitch gave him as he continued to ignore her. Guess her blowjob game wasn’t all that, or else Ferdi would’ve jumped at the chance of a repeat.

  Oh well, I did my part.

  “How would you like a grand tour of the place, Odie?”

  He offered me his elbow, and I gladly accepted it. Anything to get away from Good Time Sally. I couldn’t resist sticking my tongue out in Marci’s direction like a twelve-year-old. Call me childish. Take that, woman to woman.

  Strutting around on the arm of such a physically impressive man made me feel ten feet tall. I stood a little straighter, smiled a whole lot bigger, and added an extra twist to my hips as if I were center stage at a ballroom dance. We didn’t exchange words, but once he reached the open bar, I visibly flinched with a flashback. My cheeks flooded with heat, so much so, I had to divert my eyes from the shiny wooden structure. The vision of me stretched out, back arched, legs splayed on top of the bar, Mac’s face between my knees, the firm warmth of the tip of his tongue as it slid back and forth along my clit. A moan escaped my lips before I had the chance to tamp it down. Thank the good Lord Ferdi hadn’t noticed.

  “Would you like a drink, Odie?” He signaled for the waitress, who hurried over with two flutes of champagne and offered it to each of us.

  “Thanks.” I downed half the glass in one gulp. “How did you know I needed a rescue?”

  “Didn’t.” He smirked. “But I know Marci, and she looked like she was seconds away from going full-on cunt mode, something she’s known for around here. From the looks of things, you were holding your own though. I simply assumed you would enjoy my company instead of hers.” He paused for a moment, giving me a peculiar glance. “Unless, of course, that’s your preference. I totally get that too.”

  Took me a minute to catch on, but when I did, he barely missed an eyeful of champagne splatter. The smug bastard rubbed along my back in an effort to quell my coughing fit. I settled for giving him the stink eye until I could talk again. He was damn lucky I liked him, or I would’ve told him to fuck right the hell off.

  “Tell me, Odie. What brings you here tonight?” Ferdi asked.

  “She came for me.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we have an amazing line-up for your viewing pleasure. So, strap on your life jackets and get ready to…KNUCKLE UP!”

  CHAPTER 21

  MacCabe

  IT TOOK AN extra twenty minutes in the shower to have my dick feeling clean again. I wasn’t worried about any pussy diseases, just the unwelcomed feeling of guiltiness. I should’ve been thinking with the big head instead of the little one. Shit had me all the way fucked up. Seeing Bella again so soon after the party, touching her, kissing her, feeling her warm cunt as it clenched around my shaft as I fucked her from behind. That wasn’t how our reunion was supposed to play out. In a perfect world, I would’ve reminded her of her marital obligations, shut down her advances, then sent word to her husband that his wife was in need of redirection and let him deal with the bullshit. Instead, I’d used her body to rid my mind of its frailty, adding more shit to an already overflowing pile.

  For years, I’d managed to avoid any direct contact with her once she told me of her pending nuptials. Seeing as wives were excluded from business dealings as a steadfast rule, it wasn’t that hard to do. Her new husband was a boss, which meant he dealt exclusively with my father or my ol
dest brother if they engaged in mutual business. As the youngest, I was exempt from those decisions, which suited me just fine. It would’ve been damn near impossible to sit across a table from the man who’d robbed me of my dignity and not wish to neutralize him.

  Instead of fucking her, I should’ve given her my gratitude for turning me into the steadfast, cold-hearted bastard I was today. Her rejection was the motivation for everything that followed since the day she took her vows. Coming here unannounced, she’d dropped a sentimental bomb that transformed me back into that unsure adolescent who was head over heels in love. I was no longer that guy, and fucking her didn’t do jack shit to rekindle any romantic feelings whatsoever. I chalked it up to nothing more than a one-time fuck, and not even a good one. Served me right for not leaving the past in the past where it belonged.

  I set out to track down Ferdi. By now, he should’ve had that intel on who was behind this hostile acquisition. The master of ceremony was making the announcement for the start of the first fight. He was an annoying piece of shit, but he knew how to get the crowd pumped. The house was packed as usual for a Saturday night. I could almost smell the cash as it passed hands from the truly gullible. We should make a killing at the gate.

  I avoided the throngs of women vying for my attention, shoving their tits in my face, touching me, smiling. Any other time, I might’ve welcomed the distraction, but not tonight. I took the steps to the mezzanine and peered out over the crowd from the metal railing. No one could see me up here, but I had the perfect view of all the happenings directly below me. I spotted the big fucker laughing his head off with some blond-haired bimbo with a nice ass over by the bar. Ferdi wouldn’t be getting his dick wet tonight, not while we still had work to do.

  Something he said made her spit out the drink she was sipping in response. Knowing him, he probably offered to show her his old football injury, a hyper-extended groin, which was funny because Ferdi never played sports. Smooth bastard. I almost laughed when I watched him rub a so-called helping hand along her spine. It was meant to be a comfort through her coughing fit, but really, it was his chance to unknowingly feel her up. He was on a mission to wrap this pretty little package up tight complete with a red bow. When she turned her head, giving me a better look, I froze solid. My fingers gripped the railing so tightly my knuckles cracked and split open for the second time tonight.

 

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