by Belle Aurora
“I happen to like cats,” I muttered, putting the sensible blouse back.
“Now this...” He held up a tight, off-white, low-cut mini dress before looking at me. “This is hot.” He thrust it toward me. “Get that.”
I scoffed. “No, I’m not getting that.” I glared at him. “It’s inappropriate. I’m a mother.”
Twitch nodded. “Yeah, you’re a mom. You’re not dead, angel.” He looked me up and down with heat in his eyes. “You’re hot. Own it.”
A.J. ran into the men’s area and I followed, avoiding that conversation at an expert level. When Twitch picked up a pair of dress pants, I kept my eye on A.J., and said, “You don’t wear suits anymore.”
Not a question, just an observation.
He grinned down at me. “Always did like me in a suit, didn’t ya, baby?”
God, he was infuriating. I could be a jerk too, you know? “I liked you alive.”
As I walked away, his hand snaked out, gripping my hand tightly, pulling me back, and when I was close, he pulled me to stand in front of him as he held up a black suit, and muttered, “I mean, I could get it, but where the fuck would I wear it?”
“You could have worn it to your funeral,” I murmured, bored-like.
And he blinked down at me. “I thought you were a volunteer.”
So, that was off topic. My brows arched. “I am.”
“Nah.” He shook his head slowly. “You’re a fuckin’ comedian.” When a surprised laugh left me, he went on. “That your side gig?” I laughed harder and his lip twitched. “When’s your next show? Get me a front row seat.” I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard and he lightly smacked my butt. “Fuckin’ smartass. You better watch that mouth or I might have to fill it with something.”
My mouth opened and I couldn’t believe myself. “With what?”
He looked down at my smirking mouth and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. His voice was low, husky. “Something hard.”
I looked down, right at his crotch, feeling bold. “I am hungry.”
Oh my God. Stop.
Twitch’s eyes flashed, and when he moved to seize me, I expertly avoided his grabby hands, making my way over to our son. “Okay, honey. I think we’re good to go.”
A.J. looked mildly devastated. “But you always let me go on the playground.”
I made a hesitant sound in my throat. “We’ve already been here a while. Daddy’s probably getting bored.”
“Daddy,” came from behind me, “is never bored when he’s with his family.” When I rolled my eyes, he uttered, “You wanna go on the playground, bud? Let’s do it.”
We walked out of the mall and into the afternoon sun. The second I gave A.J. the go-ahead, he ran into the outdoor playground, running into the throw of other children and rushing up the stairs to the top of the slide, waving at us while beaming. When a father I regularly saw waved to me, I smiled and waved back. And that was when a hard body came to press into my back.
I turned to face him and asked a low, “What are you doing?” His face was close and all I wanted to do was lightly run my nails down that sharp jawline. One strong arm came around my back while the other landed with a smack on my ass, and I yelped in surprise. “Twitch!”
He looked down at me, challenging me to fight him. “Looks like you know some of the other daddies around these parts.”
Oh, Lord. Was he jealous?
He was being ridiculous, and when the large hand gripping my ass cheek squeezed, I swallowed hard. “A.J. plays with his daughter sometimes.” Oh, God, it felt good, but... “Let go of me.”
Those soft brown eyes hooded. “Either I hold onto you, or,” he spoke dangerously low, “I hold onto his neck.” My lips parted and he focused on them. “Up to you, baby.”
I thought about that. Part of me knew he would never make a scene. Not here anyway, and never in front of A.J. The other part of me didn’t want to risk never being allowed back to the mall again.
A long moment passed before I allowed myself to fall into him, and when I did, I was rewarded with another hard squeeze before he slid that hand into my jeans pocket, holding me close.
And Twitch was right. We had a great day.
As a family.
By the time we left the mall, Twitch carried his son on one side and held me close on the opposite. We were his accessories and he wore us with pleasure, his chest puffing out with a smugness I’d never seen him wear. And it was nice.
Everything was going well. That was, until we walked back to the car and he hesitated, focused on a man walking toward us. I frowned as the man stilled in his step, looking at Twitch as though he’d just seen an apparition.
I know the feeling.
Twitch’s hesitation only lasted a second before we started to walk again, and when we passed the tall, olive-skinned man with dark eyes and thick brows, Twitch jerked his chin to him but did not stop walking. “What’s up, Sadik?”
We left the man wide-eyed and open-mouthed in shock, and when we were safely seated in the car, I turned to Twitch, and uttered quietly, “Who was that?”
Twitch responded just as quietly, “That was the person who’s going to let it be known to every fucker in Sydney that the king is back.”
Oh, shit.
“C’mon, angel.” He scratched at his jaw, looking out the window. “Let’s go home.”
***
Aslan The Fucking Turk
The moment she answered the phone, I stated urgently, “We need to talk.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.
“Baby,” I started, still shocked. “I’m pretty sure I just saw a ghost.”
Chapter Twenty
Ling
“It’s not possible.” I paced, unable to take a full breath into my lungs. I paused to look at Aslan. “It wasn’t him.”
Az sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees while covering his mouth with his fingers. At my hesitance, he straightened. “It was, Ling.” When I wasn’t convinced, he stood. “I saw him with my own eyes, baby.” But I still wasn’t swayed. He put a hand to his good hip and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know what I fucking saw. It was him. He even stopped a sec and said, ‘What’s up, Sadik?’”
I don’t know who Aslan saw, but it wasn’t Twitch. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I went to the fucking funeral. I spent months mourning until Julius took pity on me and gave me a job, a home, and a new life.
No.
It wasn’t Twitch.
Az was confused.
Yes, that was it.
He was confused, or at least I thought he was, until he went on. “I swear to God, Ling. It was Twitch.” His eyes implored and he let out a humorless laugh. “I’m not crazy. He was with a woman about this tall.” He put his hand up at a certain height. “A pretty one in that girl next door kind of way. She had long, wavy brown hair, big blue eyes, a little curvy body with a nice rack on her.”
My heart jolted.
That sounded like Alexa Ballentine.
But what he said next confirmed my beautiful Turk wasn’t as crazy as I hoped he was. “And he was holding a little boy,” he stated sincerely. “A little boy who looked just like him.”
No.
I shook my head and Aslan sighed, rolling his eyes. “Baby. I know what I saw.” He implored patiently, “Ling, please. Would I lie to you?”
I didn’t think he would, but people closer to me had betrayed me before, so I wouldn’t discount the idea.
There was only one way to find out.
My stomach clenched.
I would hunt down Lexi.
***
Lexi
I was nervous.
Oh, God, was I nervous.
Alone in the house, I sat on the edge of my bed and looked over at the light switch. A moment passed and I huffed out a breath, standing then moving toward it, but I faltered in the dark, turning away and covering my mouth with shaking hands.
Was this really a good ide
a?
I thought about it a second.
No, said my heart.
My brain agreed, shaking its head.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but I really, really wanted to. It had been too long. I needed it so badly that I disregarded every good sense I had and strode across the room.
And when I did what I did, I sat on the vanity stool in my silken kimono and waited.
***
Twitch
As I passed the window, I blinked over at the house and frowned.
That frown deepened when I lifted my wrist to check my watch.
11:51 p.m.
I looked back at the house, holding onto my frown, but then a small smile cut into the darkness.
My voice was low. “I’ll be damned.”
She left a light on.
***
Lexi
The window rattled then opened, and when he climbed in, shutting it behind him, he stood tall, watching me carefully through his perpetually hooded gaze. He looked good in black jeans, a gunmetal gray long-sleeved tee, and his sneakers.
I was ashamed for wanting this, wanting him so badly that I left myself open to be hurt again. But this was Twitch, and I always seemed to do irresponsible, insane things when it came to this man.
What had Manda once said?
That’s what love will do to a sane woman.
Right now, I felt that in my fucking bones.
So when I stood on shaky legs and made the few steps over, barefoot, I held the item in my hands out to him and he looked down in puzzlement, taking it without a word. When he unfurled it, I saw the recognition dawn and he blinked at me, his brow lowered in confusion. “You kept it?”
Yes.
I kept the belt. The same belt he’d used on me so long ago. The now bloodstained reminder of his death.
I kept it.
He looked momentarily overwhelmed, but he hid it well. He took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, shakily, and then he settled his eyes on me. “You ready for this?”
Taking the hair-tie off my wrist, I gathered my hair into a low ponytail and secured it. Then I nodded, and whispered, “Yes.”
Twitch took a menacing step toward me. “You need to be sure.”
“I am.” As sure as I could be.
Another looming step. “I won’t stop, baby.”
“I know.” I was counting on it.
Until, finally, he stood in front of me, reaching up to cup my cheek lovingly, his tone low, rough. “Turn the light off. Soon as you do that, it’s on.”
My nipples tightened.
Turning, I made it to the light switch and raised my hand but hesitated, asking the question I dreaded to hear the answer to. “Are you clean?”
His brow furrowed. “Of course.”
I nodded, clearing my throat. “I’m not on birth control.” Of course I wasn’t. There was no need. I wasn’t sleeping around. Most nights, I wasn’t sleeping at all.
And when Twitch heard my quiet statement, his eyes heated with pleasure. “Noted.” He let out a short breath. “You remember how this goes?”
“Yes.” My voice was breathy.
How could I forget?
Only speak when spoken to. Beg and be rewarded. Disobey and pay.
His eyes held mine, and without a word spoken, I hit the switch, showering the room in darkness, leaving us both awash in the delicate moonlight streaming in through the window. And even though I couldn’t see his face anymore, I heard the tenseness in his voice, and all of my fantasies over the past six years came to life.
“Make me hard.”
Silently, on soft feet, I took a step toward him.
Oh my God.
Then another.
Holy shit.
The closer I got to him, the heavier my heart thumped. My stomach clenched as I made it to him. I moved to kneel and I did it slowly. Once on my knees, I reached up, popped the button on his jeans, and lowered the zipper leisurely. Separating the flaps, I looked up into his eyes as I ran light fingers over the protruding hardness straining behind his boxers. My eyes, since adjusted to the darkness, watched him watch me with parted lips, and the moment I wrapped my hand around his material-covered cock, he closed his eyes and threw his head heavenward, letting out a sharp breath.
His reaction had me feeling bold. Brave.
Sliding my hands down the elastic waist, I wrapped my fingers around the smooth, hard heat of him and pulled him free.
As soon as my eyes landed on his thick, long cock, my mouth salivated.
My breath came in choppy as I held onto him with a trembling hand and eyed the piercing I once would have killed to have inside me. Apparently, time hadn’t changed me. I lifted his cock and let out a soft sigh as I inspected the silver ball resting on the sensitive underside. Unable to help myself, I ran my thumb over it and watched his dick jerk in my hands.
He was still impressive. Goddamn him. He was still also the biggest cock I’d had the pleasure of fucking, and, Jesus, how I needed to feel the thick heat inside me once again.
My eyes fluttered at the thought, and a quiet, “Oh, shit,” escaped me.
Immediately, he reproached me. “I tell you to speak?”
His voice was harsh. My pussy quivered. But I didn’t respond, simply shaking my head. And when he placed a gentle hand to my crown, softly stroking my hair, I leaned into his touch in a somewhat feline gesture, craving more of his approval.
And he gave it to me. “Good girl.”
Oh, I would have done anything to hear him say that to me.
I thought about that and flushed.
It seemed I would still do anything to hear him say those soft, affection-coated words.
Tightening my grasp on him, I stroked him singlehandedly, watching through my drowsy-eyed gaze as he became impossibly stiff in my hand. Leaning in, I stared up at him and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of him, feeling salty moisture on my lips. Flattening my tongue, I licked him clean, and the sudden gasp it elicited from Twitch was delicious. So delicious I had to do it again.
I laved him slowly, with meaning, over and over again, and when he panted, “Enough,” I should have stopped.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
The warm, clean taste of him was addictive. Always had been. I didn’t want to let go. I’d missed him too much.
So when he reached down and gripped my cheeks tightly, forcing my mouth open, a soft whimper escaped me. And he clicked his tongue. “I say enough, you stop.” He released his hold on me, and I glared up at him, dropping his cock and rubbing my sore cheeks. And the asshole reached into my kimono, sliding his hand into my black strappy harness bra and finding one taut peak, lightly pinching the sensitive nub.
My head fell back and a quiet moan escaped me. And when he pinched me a second time, I was no longer thinking straight. Reaching down, under my silken robe, I grasped my wet mound through the satin and lace and looked up at him, beseeching. My voice was whisper-soft. “Please. Please. Oh, please.”
I needed to come more than I needed my next breath.
But Twitch took my upper arm and jerked it away, forcing me to release myself. And just when I thought I’d explode in a vicious tirade, he gripped his cock and stroked it slowly, mesmerizing me. That was when he ordered, “Open.”
I was only confused a single moment before I opened my mouth slightly. But Twitch made a sound in his throat. “More.” A little wider. But Twitch just held his cock, held it away from me, stroking slowly, and I got his silent message. I opened my mouth as far as it would go.
He fed his length to me gradually, deliberately so, and I almost gagged when he gently thrust into my mouth, but after doing it a couple times, I grew used to his size again. It felt natural to have this man’s cock in my mouth, when nothing about this should have felt as such.
I held my mouth open for him until my cheeks burned, and when wet strands of spit leaked out the sides of my mouth, down my chin, then farther still, dripping
into my cleavage, his nostrils flared.
With a harsh tug, he yanked at my robe. “Take it off. Show me what I’m missing.”
My stomach dipped violently.
Shit.
I loved when he spoke so unforgivingly. It had me so hot and bothered I thought I’d come right there and then.
With gentle fingers, I pushed the kimono off and it fell into a pile behind me, leaving me dressed in a pair of satin and lace panties and their matching strappy bra. When I moved to push the strap of my bra down, his hand caught mine and he spoke quietly. “Leave it on.”
Somehow, I knew he’d like it. The second I saw it, I thought of him. It was beautifully delicate with its sheer lace cups and thick black straps, crossing all over, making me look tied up like the gift I was. It came across as a dominant male’s dream, and I was inwardly delighted that he was affected by it.
I mean, I specifically remember him once telling me he liked his women in silk and frilly shit because they were gifts to be unwrapped.
Well, Merry Christmas, Twitch.
As if he heard my inner thoughts, his eyes roamed my body, and he muttered, “Pretty.” Then his scowl returned. “Stand up.”
It was hard to stand when the jerk didn’t offer a hand, but I managed to rise as gracefully as I could, and when I turned to face him, I caught him looking down at my tits through that sleepy gaze of his. He swallowed hard then reached up behind him to grip the back of his shirt and pulled his tee off.
And that body.
What a reveal.
My insides were a mess. I wanted to cry at the sheer beauty of that inked form of his. He was delectable, and I hoped he gave me permission to run my tongue all over the muscular plane of his stomach. Maybe lower still to the hollow that sat just under that stomach. Farther still to lick my way across that indented V, the same V that pointed like an arrow to the place I wanted to suck so hard that he gifted me the salty sweetness of his seed.
Fuck. I wanted him to come in my mouth.
He made light work of his shoes and socks, shucking his pants down his legs and stepping out of them. Sure, he kept his boxers on, but the way his hard dick bobbed out from over the lowered waistband was hot as hell. After all this time, I wasn’t disappointed. And when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, he spread his legs wide and patted his lap. “Sit.”