by Ky Crossfire
— I’m gonna take you to my home.
As she walked towards the elevator, I follow, with my eyes, her round ass’ movements.
Hiring her like this will be even better than I expected. I would “show” her every room in the house, without missing one.
Chapter 3
Isa Oliveira Brandão
I followed Nicolas still uneasy about the turn things were taking, that was a damn change in my life, since, if everything went well, if I could handle working for Mr. Bad Wolf for about six months — I’ve calculated mentally — it would be enough for me to pay my debts and start my bakery and then it would all be a feather on my hat, as grandma Isaura used to say.
— Nick — A soft voice called.
He didn’t seem to listen and kept walking through the agency’s luxurious hall. I didn’t notice before, as I was too worked up, but now that I was walking alongside him, I realized the walls of the place were covered by picture of top models, blondes, brunettes, redheads, all gifted by monumental beauty, defined abs, long ass legs, small breasts, and they could all enjoy the luxury of not wearing a bra and not having their tits bouncing around.
— Nick! — This time, the woman’s voice had a slightly more emphatic tone, something like: I’m fucking calling you, why the fuck aren’t you listening to me? But classy, of course.
I glanced at the woman that held my new boss by the arm.
And my whore-o-meter bipped right on!
Nicolas stopped walking and glanced at the hand of the blonder that dared to hold him.
I wonder if they are familiar with each other?
The way he looked at her made her let his arm go right away, like she wasn’t supposed to that in public.
— Morning! — I greeted, but the hoe looked at me in disdain, like I was an insect that didn’t deserve her attention.
Bitch! I mentally cursed. You know that type of person you just know you’re not going to get along with? That’s right, Ms. Classy Whore who has just ignored me was one of them, and I’m even a quite chill person…
— I have already instructed you by phone, Diana.
Damn right he did, tramp! I make an effort to keep my thoughts to myself.
As much as I was craving seeing Nicholas piss all over that slut, I just follow my way out of the building. Rico is talking to a traffic cop when I get closer.
I don’t even need to mention the woman was already all over him.
— Of course I’ll call you. — He smiled and kissed the piece of paper that the cop gave him. That chick only forgot to actually melt there.
— I’ll be waiting. — The lady undoes herself in smiles and goes back her path.
Ricos has that cocky smiles, fanning himself with the paper, he mumbles quietly looking at the traffic cop’s ass as she goes away.
— Oh, what a rump.
Argh!
I pinch his arm hard!
— You’re shameless! — I scold. — Beatriz is more than right for breaking up with your ass.
— What?! — He gets offended. — I get you a job, a place to live at and that how you thank me. I should even get a trophy for man of the year
— Oh don’t. Really, don’t — I talk back and get the paper from his hands, crumple it and throw it on Little Carol’s trunk.
— I was going to call her. — He bludges me.
— The fuck you were. Stop being stubborn and go after Beatriz.
— Bia is a big girl already and she knows where to find me. — He leans against the pickup and crosses his arm. — Let her go, when she gets there and realizes them gringos ain’t got these babies here… — He shows off his muscles — then she’ll run back to me.
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
It was worthless to argues. Being tough-headed ran in the family.
— We can go. — I feel Nicolas hand touch the curve of my waist and I jump away from him.
Rico laughs out of meeting his friend and talks about his most recent victory like I wasn’t there.
— Dude, you should’ve seen the ass on the chick that was going to give Isa a ticket. — He moves his hand to demonstrate the size. — Her uniform was almost bursting.
Nicolas seems to be very interested.
I punch Rico’s arm hard.
— Idiot! — I curse and turn around, get inside the truck and honk as to interrupt their spirited little chat about butts.
Through the rearview mirror, I see Rico pat Nicolas’ shoulder and wish him good luck.
— I’m gonna need it — he answers, laughing.
I honk again.
Nicolas leans over the door, a dirty smile on his face.
— Move over, I’m driving.
— Ha! — I lean my head back and pretend to laugh. — You’re going to put your hands on Little Carol only over my dead body, and not even.
He unbuttons his suit and takes off his blazer right there, on the seat right next to me. Soon as he does so, a feel a nice scent come out from his clothes.
Nicolas unbuttons the cuff of his white shirt and wraps them up to his elbows. My eyes follow his movements more interested than they should.
— Move, honeybun, or you’ll have to hear me singing all the way over.
— A grown man like you has no shame in being such a fucking asshole? — I curse
He moves around the truck and opens the door.
— Move over — he requests.
I look to the large man at my side, his arm muscles tense while he held the door, and that marvelous scent coming from him. He’s Nicolas, Isa! The same jerk who used to pull your hair and bully you up to your eighteen years of age, just that now he’s immensely hotter, manlike and horny. And there’s one issue, the motherfucker’s married!
Married!
I hear Rico’s motorcycle rumbling and two honks, and he soon gone, high-speeding amidst the traffic.
Then, Nicolas just slowly slips closer to me, forcing me to either move over or we would stay there, bodies pressed against each other.
— Good girl — he mock. — I was already missing you even.
— Go to hell, Nicolas. — I was craving to hit that stupid, gorgeous face of his.
— Who said I was talking to you. — He faces me and turn his eyes back to the steering wheel. — I missed Little Carol. — He runs his big hands and thick fingers over the wheel and caresses the jaded panel.
— Buffoon — I grumble, feeling my blood flow hot through my veins.
Nicolas Reis
Mato Grosso do Sul
Fifteen years before...
— But why are you taking Isa along? — Rico stares me, suspicious. — You ain’t trying to hit on my sister, are you, you fucker?!
— What?! Like I would hit on her. I have hoe for each day of the week in my school, you really think I’ll want to woo Isa, that hag?
He still looks suspicious.
— For real?
— For real. — I cross my heart twice. — I’m telling you, if we take Little Carol without Isa, she’ll end up telling your father. And I still haven’t forgotten that she cut part of my hair while I was sleeping.
Rico laughed.
— Dude, it’s been five years already, and your hair has grown back even. — He still laughs. — It was your own fault for having nicknamed her honeybun.
We were in Rico’s room, I was in the top bunk, half of my body out of the bed, head down, looking at the shadows Rico created in the wall with the help of a flashlight.
— Fine. — He finally gives in. — Go wake her up while I go to dad’s room to get the keys.
I smile and leave the bed.
— Deal. — I put on my sneakers and rub my hand together. — Don’t screw it up.
He nods skittishly and leaves first. I count to five and, cautiously, walk on the hardwood floor creaking under me.
I open the door to her bedroom. Isa’s bedroom is basically the same size as Rico’s, and the flower lamp my father gave me is on next to her bed.
Isa is sleeping on her side, hugging a big, soft pillow. Her dark hair falls over her face.
She is so beautiful, her lightly tan skin contrast against the pink sheets and her nightdress. I dare to get closer and brush away that dark strand falling against her cheek.
— Nicolas — she whispers my name, still asleep, and kisses the pillow with little pecks.
I close my hand and bite my knuckles to hold back the surprise.
I lean over the bed and lightly touch her shoulder.
— Dreaming of me?
When she hears my voice, her sleepy eyes open and, when she sees that I am actually there, she shoves me.
— What the heck?! — She jumps off the bed and slaps me.
Isa has the most striking slap I’ve ever felt from a girl.
— You’re hitting me, but just now you were kissing me — I tease.
— Oh, shut up! — she talks back. — If you were in it, then it wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare.
I smile, seeing how pissed she is.
— Yeah, right. I know that deep down, you love me, honeybun.
And there comes another violent stomp, like only she could perform.
— Damn fuck. This way I ain’t taking you with us.
Panting, she stops hitting me.
— Where?
— To fun.
I walk to her window and open it.
She puts her sandals on and walks through me with an angry face. But I still laugh, after all, she was dreaming of me, dreaming of kissing me… That, maybe, was a sign she didn’t actually hate me that much.
Isa jumped through the window, and I followed her.
We ran together to Little Carol. Rico still hadn’t come back.
— How old are you again?
I knew she was fourteen, our age gap was of almost four years, but she was grumpy, and I wanted to do some small talk.
She’s still ignoring me, then, she turns around and opens the door to the truck, and I can’t resist pinching her backside.
Isa glares at me, black eyes radiating fury.
— There was a spider. — I put on my best lost puppy face, but it’s too late. She jumps me, and we fall on the grass together.
I am able to restrain her wrists.
— Come closer cause now I’m gonna pop that grape — I said popping her grape, as I thought that was, probably, her first kiss.
— Go fuck yourself Nicolas. — She releases herself, props one thick leg on the tire, jumps in the trunk and stays there, angrily glaring at me.
Rico comes right after that.
— Are you guys fighting again already? — he teases.
— Yeah… just because I told honeybun to sit on the back, because with that much cake the three of us wouldn’t fit in the front.
Isa huffs again.
Die, Nicolas! For the love of God, just die, you stupid asshole!
Isa Oliveira Brandão
Rio de Janeiro
Present day
My cell phone vibrates inside my purse.
— Sup, whore?
Beatriz has been my best friend since I was still selling sweets and healthy sandwiches in college hallways. She was studying med and, every break she had, we would spill all the tea we had to each other, nine years of friendship got us nicknames like best bitch, my hoe, and other endearment terms only BFFs — best friends forever — could understand, cutesy names, like sweetheart, gorgeous, weren’t really our style, so get used to it.
— Bitch, so you break up and don’t even give me a phone call to tell me about it?! — Her voice is like a sledgehammer. — And then I get the news from your brother!
— Of course gossip girl would tell right away. — I laugh. — Rico didn’t talk you out of leaving?
— I will be finishing be studies abroad. Maybe two years from he’ll be more mature. I want more than just a party boyfriend, I want to have a family, and your brother’s not ready for that.
— Yeah — I agree. — Some guys are only about that thing. — I say it looking at Nick
She sighs on the other end of the line
— And where will you be staying at? That bastard left the apartment to you, didn’t he?
— Nah, the apartment belongs to his family. I don’t want to see Jorge again that soon.
— You should’ve let Rico beat the fuck out of that asshole prick.
— Ok, bitch. I don’t wanna talk about that. — I cut her off. — I will be working for Nicolas for a while. Tell you about it later.
— What?! — she shouts. — that long haired guy who used to pester you during your teenage years.
— Yup, that’s him — I say, flicking my hands absently, focusing on not looking at him.
— Oh my god, shut up! — Bia screams sharply and makes me laugh. — Is he hot now?
I look at him quickly: his arms, both thick like a muscled log covered by his shirt; his hair, so beautiful and well taken care of that they probably better than mine. Definitely, they were.
He faces me, and turn my face away.
— Yup — I say quickly. — Bye, you bitch.
— Love you, hoe.
I turn off my phone and put it in my bag.
I feel Nicolas’ hand touch my thigh, and he removes it as soon as he notices I’m watching him. He puts on that fake, lost puppy face, the same one he did when we stole Little Carol and he pinched my behind.
He switches gears and clears his throat, blaming the gearbox shamelessly.
— Sorry, it slipped. This gearbox is quite through. I’ll tell someone to take it to the mechanic.
I move closer to door and away from him.
— Do that again and the only thing you’ll feel is my fist slipping in your eye — I threat showing my closed fist. — Then, I’ll love to see the CEO walking around with a swollen nose and a black eye.
Chapter 4
He keeps that teasing smile on his face, which makes me want to maul him, slap him and then kiss him all day long. I turn my face to the other side, and he keeps muttering that song. The song he sang to me during the biggest part of our teenage years: “Tweedlee tweedlee tweedlee dum I'm alucky so and so... Huppa huppa honey do I'm a gonna get my eyes on you...”¹
God! How I hated that song.
All of sudden, we hear a pop, followed by a jolt.
— Oh, shit — I curse, realizing that the tire had went flat.
He parks at the hard shoulder.
— If you hadn’t been trying to be funny while driving, the tire wouldn’t have broken.
He ignores me and gets down from the pickup and, through the rearview mirror, I see him get the spare tire from the back of the truck. After rolling my eyes and huffing, I get down and walk towards him with my crossed and my eyes not believing what I see.
— So now you’re gonna tell me you know how to change a tire?
— Sit your little ass down — the jerk stresses the word ass — in the sidewalk and watch me.
— Nope. I want to stay in my feet, so I can watch that bullshit you’re about to do closely. — I smile, challenging him.
Nicolas starts unbuttoning his shirt, and as he does so, his chest muscles are exposed. That whole chest and that defined stomach full of prominent, rigid muscle, all out there, while my hand were itching to touch all of that.
I swallow dry and return to staring at his eyes.
— Are you drunk? You’ll end up in jail for indecency.
He sways his head.
— We’re in Rio, Isa. — He throws his shirt at me and I, by reflex, catch the garment, still warm from his body heat, in my hands. — Long as I keep my pants on, we won’t get in trouble.
— Just change the fucking tire before I char up in here. — I fan myself and turn around, looking at beachside where men and women did their daily workout. It takes a good amount of time until I hear him call me.
— Isa, grab me the wheel wrench! — he requests.
I look at Nicolas, he’s dripping with sweat
, his golden, stiff muscles shining under the sun.
Lord, help me… I fan myself again, sure that that job would terminate all the sanity I had left. How big he had become… And by big, I mean his wingspan, the broad shoulder, his muscular, defined body, but not in that weird way we see in bodybuilding contest, but more like… fuck, I can’t even find the right words to it, just think about the hottest guy you have seen time a thousand. That mix between a brute and a cocky smile makes my legs weak.
— Dammit Isa, shit’s heavy here, can’t you get me what I asked?
— Oh?! What?.
Married. He’s married.
I grab him the tool and watch him finish the job.
Nicolas gets up and rolls his shoulders like he was stretching. He dusts his grease-covered hands and I catch myself once more looking at his chest. My good Lady of the wet panties, how is it possible, like, guys? Ok, ok, ok… I know he’s married, but no harm comes from just looking, and was just making sure he’s not getting too red. That high noon sun is punishing.
— You can put your shirt back on now. — I shove the piece of clothing against his body. My hand touches the firmness that is his chest, and I remove my hand abruptly, like touching him would burn me.
He laughs, wickedly, and it makes me even more pissed.
— Well, won’t you tell me what’s so funny? — I face him, my hands on my waist.
— Because I know this is not going to work. Specially when you get all snappy like that, pouting with that pretty little mouth. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my good behavior near you.
And there’s the big bad wolf, finally starting to show his claws…
Nicolas holds me and presses me against the truck, leaning his huge, sweaty body against mine. I was there, unable to move, and he had his head tilted to the side, his mouth so close to mine was afraid to even breath.
I gulped and looked in the eyes when my knee striked his balls hard.
Married! The bastard was married, with kids, and still acted like a rutting dog.
I’m sure he only does so to tick me off, since it looks like the pleasure he took in annoying me was still going strong.