The Kingpin’s Weakness

by Kane, Jessa

  I have no time to prepare before I’m swept up in Easton’s arms and we’re traveling up the stairs. “Don’t you want to give me a tour?”

  He coughs. “No.”

  “Oh.” A tiny arrow of hurt arrows into my chest. “Because I won’t be here for long?”

  For a moment, he pauses on the stairs. “No. Because if I don’t get you naked, Scout, I’m going to fucking snap.”

  I nod, swallow, let him carry me the rest of the way.

  Oh my goodness, I’m about to lose my virginity. I’m not scared, I’m more excited than anything. Whenever I’ve thought about having sex for the first time, there was never a face attached to the person, but deep down I know I’ll never think of anyone but Easton for the rest of my life. He’ll be the face above me, the voice in my ear.

  There is a definite bittersweet thread weaving back and forth through my heart, knowing we only have this one night, but I won’t think about that until it’s absolutely necessary. This man comes with complications and I’ll take them, along with the good. As long as I can.

  We push through the second door on the left and I gasp.

  His bed is in the center of the room, huge, covered in white bedding. It is positioned in front of the ocean. Literally. One side of the room has no wall, no windows. It is simply open to the dark ocean, the full moon and the whitecaps crashing on the rocks below. Wind rushes in the room, making it feel like it’s outdoors, or the deck of a ship.

  Easton sets me on the edge of the bed, kissing my mouth softly but thoroughly.

  “Wait here,” he says, turning and leaving the room.

  I’ve barely had a moment to flop back onto the amazing bed and revel in the softness when he returns, holding a fist full of flowers with the roots still attached. “You wanted flowers.” He lays them down on the nightstand. “These are from the front yard.”

  The scent of lilac joins the salty ocean breeze in lifting my hair, tossing it around.

  “They’re perfect.”

  And then Easton is standing in front of me once again, his intensity penetrating now that we’re here. Now that his guard can completely come down. This time, I’m the one who pulls down the straps of my dress and bares my breasts to him.

  He looks at them hungrily and unbuttons his shirt, yanking the buttons through their holes. “You are so goddamn beautiful. Like a dream I don’t deserve.”

  “Yes, you do,” I whisper, letting my heels fall to the floor.

  “No. I don’t.” He whips off his shirt, followed by his leather belt whooshing through the loops, the metal buckle cracking off the floor as he drops it. “Do you like my home?”

  I nod distractedly, because oh lord, his chest is robust. Dusted with black hair.

  Heaving.

  His hips are two carved arcs that dive into his pants, bracketing a ripped stomach.

  “It’s painted in blood, this house. Built with bones.” He looks down at his open palms. “I’ve done things with these hands that should stop me from touching you, but I’ve never been that noble. Although…” He yanks my thighs open, making me whimper. “You’re a fresh, little sacrifice even a saint couldn’t turn down, aren’t you?”

  My knees start to shake in his hands.

  And they tremble harder when the panties are wrenched down my legs.

  Tossed over his shoulder.

  “Oh, sweet fucking hell,” he growls, prying my legs open to look at my sex, wetting the seam of his lips. “Would you look at that pretty little gash? Goddamn.” A shudder vibrates through him. “I thought I could make love to you, cutie, but I don’t know anymore. As soon as you’re not whining and trying to shove me off anymore, what if I just fuck you blind?”

  “You won’t.” I suck in a breath as my dress is drawn down my body and left forgotten on the floor. “Y-you’ll be gentle with me.”

  “HOW?” Easton growls through his teeth, pulling me to the edge of the bed, using a firm hand to press me down on my back. I’m completely naked now, my core exposed, and the rasping sound of his breaths tells me he likes how I look. That I please him. A lot. “Jesus, little girl. You’re either on the pill or I’m getting you pregnant.” His face lowers to the place between my thighs and he inhales deeply, his hips rocking against the edge of the bed. “No rubber is getting in my way of this.”

  I don’t have time to explain that I’m on the pill before his tongue is traveling hungrily through my folds, shooting sensation down to my toes. He presses his face to my flesh and moans, his fingers flexing around my knees. His nose nuzzles me in the most incredible spot. He rubs the damp seam of his lips side to side over that tingling nub, kissing it gently, worshipping it with words my brain comprehends, even though I am mentally spinning out. “P-please keep d-doing that.”

  He does so much more than that.

  His middle and index finger tuck into my opening and twist, exploiting a sensitive ring of nerve endings I didn’t know existed. And my back arches on a wretched sob, my entire body twisting, rising and falling like a billowing sheet tied to the laundry line. The side of his tongue saws wetly against the perimeter of that swelling bud, teasing me with partial contact, then rakes over it blatantly, making me scream. “Easton!”

  By now, his fingers are pushing in and out of me, the pace decadent, smooth and unhurried while urging me somewhere. A little faster, a little faster. His tongue moves quicker on my clit and I start to whine, my toes straining, heels burying in the mattress.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  His middle finger tickles me on the inside.

  His mouth closes over the bud and draws gently.

  Pleasure stabs me in the center and my belly jerks toward the ceiling, sea air rushing in and clashing with my feverish skin, somehow heightening the lust, this proof of how hot I’ve become. How wonderfully agitated I am. A delicious tug increases in intensity until I’m shaking, my muscles seized and tense, followed by a deluge of relief so sweeping, I feel it in my hair follicles.

  I have no idea how much time passes before Easton is dragging me up the bed, like a caveman bringing a clubbed female back to his cave. I’m dazed and sucking in oxygen, trying to reconcile what just happened with my body, when his mouth crashes down on mine and the build starts all over again. Because oh. Oh lord. His naked weight on top of me feels forbidden and essential and I don’t know how long I lived without it.

  “You come so fucking hot,” he says against my mouth, delving his tongue deep, invading me with aggressive, anchoring strokes. “You taste it? You taste your hot little cunt?”

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  “You expect me to be gentle when you taste that sweet?” He reaches down and winces, bringing his shaft up against me. Where his fingers were before. He inches inside, stretching my entrance, hard into smooth. “Hold on to me. I’m going to try.” His hips push forward and I’m being filled, fully, achingly filled. “I’m going to try and go slow. But…fuck. You are so tight.”

  I stroke my hands over his shoulders, lean up and kiss his chin. “I know. It’s okay.”

  Moss-green eyes snag on mine, holding me in thrall with their power. The passion in those depths. “Are you trying to make this easier on me?” He bends his neck, his breath panting in and out between kisses. “Jesus, Scout. You’re the virgin.”

  Yes, I am almost desperate to ease him.

  Please him.

  I’m shaken by the undeniable urge.

  So much so that I reach down and capture his thick, muscular buttocks, yanking him the remaining distance, a hoarse sound leaving my throat.

  “Scout!” He pants once, twice. “Ohhhh. FUCK.”

  “Take me,” I manage, when the sharpest of the pain dulls into a throb. “I d-didn’t understand. Everyone makes love differently.” I pull my knees up and he sinks even deeper with a groan. “Maybe ours is rougher than others,” I whisper, writhing beneath him.

  He pulls out and smacks into me, baring his teeth. “No. I can do this.”

  “No.”

>   “Yes, goddammit. You’ll have what you deserve.”

  He drops his full weight on top of me, pinning my wrists high above my head. And then he starts to stroke his shaft into me slowly. Achingly slow. A vein stands out in the center of his forehead and his shoulders are bunched with tension, but he trails his tongue up and down the slope of my neck, raking me with the very edges of his teeth, his hips canting up, back, stoking a fire inside me with every groaning entrance into my body.

  “Beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s just that my romance comes nine inches long, baby. You understand, don’t you?”

  Caught in a web of lust, I can only nod. Can only lie there and accept the ridged, thick thrust of his manhood, how it occupies me in thorough ebbs and flows, his hands biting into the soft skin of my wrists, his hips chafing the insides of my thighs. “Easton…” I breathe.

  “I saw you walk in tonight and I knew you’d break me.” He kisses my neck, breathes hot air into my ear. “And you’re breaking me so good, Scout. This pussy doesn’t even feel fucking legal, you’re wrecking me so good with it. With your eyes, your heart, the way you say my name.” His tempo picks up, like he can’t help it, the muscles in his neck straining. “I’m going to come so hard. You’re going to make me. That’s what you were born to do.”

  The raw way he speaks to me, his honesty, the lack of barriers between us builds the flame inside me once again and I whimper, my womanhood starting to quicken around his pumping shaft. More moisture ebbs from my body to slick his way and he feels it, his eyes glazing over, his thrusts turning more insistent. More urgent.

  “Ah, Christ. I’m almost there.” He leans down and teases my nipples with the tip of his tongue. “Come on, cutie. Don’t make Daddy bust alone.”

  Maybe it’s a little twisted—and definitely unexpected—that Easton calling himself my Daddy opens the dam of pleasure inside me. But it does. And I launch into another shaking fit, my thighs squeezing his hips, my lower body rising to meet his final, frantic drives.

  Easton is rough at the end.

  Holding me down, burying my face in his shoulder and slamming into me, calling my name hoarsely. His spend is hot and sticky, rope after rope of it fills me up, sliding down my thighs and even splashing up onto my stomach. And still his hips rut me like every drop has to come out, has to be purged or he’ll die. Until finally he rolls onto his side, next to me on the bed, and pulls me into his arms, raining kisses down all over my face, my forehead.

  “Are you okay, cutie? Tell me you’re okay. I lost it at the end…”

  “I’m okay,” I breathe, stroking his hair. “I loved it. Loved it.”

  His exhale bathes my damp neck. “What is the point of owning the night if I can’t stop morning from coming?”

  I don’t have an answer for him, so I hold on tight and let him rock me to sleep, silently begging the universe to let me keep Easton Brawn. To let him keep me.

  5

  Easton

  I stare at Scout’s curled fist on my pillow. Let my eyes travel up her arm, her shoulder kissed by morning light. Her bare tits nestled in the sheets, her rosy lips softened by sleep. Angelic. A breeze carries in off the ocean and stirs her hair, but she isn’t roused by the sound of the tide coming in below, waves pounding on the rocks. Almost like she was made for this place. My home. Made for me.

  She was.

  One day isn’t going to be enough.

  Two. I can get away with two.

  With a heavy swallow, I climb out of bed, throw on a pair of sweatpants and brush my teeth, making my way down to the kitchen. Am I crazy to take such a chance with this girl? My enemies are always looking for a weakness. A way to exploit me. And I haven’t given them one since the elimination of my brother and best friend. Since they were gunned down in the street right in front of me, their expressions eternally frozen in fear.

  There would be no recovering if the same happened to Scout.

  Fuck that. If a bullet grazed her, I’d spend the rest of my life deranged.

  She’s dangerous to my sanity. A liability.

  Then she walks into the kitchen in a borrowed T-shirt with messy hair, blinking at me innocently from behind her glasses and I almost laugh. An adorably nerdy, five-foot-three college student could put a wrench in my billion-dollar operation by shedding one tear.

  Jesus.

  Scout is staring at me and blushing under the kitchen’s archway. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She presses her knuckles to her lips, subduing a smile. “I just…after last night…”

  My eyebrows go up, heart beating faster. “Are you actually feeling shy?”

  She holds up her index finger and thumb, nearly pinching them together. “A little.”

  “Come here.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Scout,” I say warningly. “Here. Now.”

  I receive an eye roll in response, but she pads her way over to me where I stand at the coffee maker. “It’s just that now I’m thinking about all the things I said in the dark. And all the things that you said,” she rambles. “They sounded perfectly appropriate at the time, but now it’s light out and you…you don’t have a shirt on and…”

  My hand cups her cheek. “And?”

  “And I can see a lot of what’s happening in your sweatpants,” she whispers, looking up at the ceiling. “Pretty much all of it.”

  I look down to find my cock at full mast. Of course it is. Scout is in the room.

  Being fucking delicious. Fresh from having her cherry popped.

  “And?” I prompt her again, my voice like gravel.

  “Well. It’s um…N-Newton’s Law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction and…”

  Christ, she is so sweet, she’s going to break me in half. “Is that your way of telling me your pussy is wet, cutie?”

  She hums, the color of her cheeks deepening. “But I seriously doubt I can do what we did last night when it’s light out.”

  “Oh, you doubt it, do you?”

  Her expression is solemn. “Yes.”

  I tuck a finger under the hem of her borrowed shirt, tease her belly button with my knuckle. “Would you like to have your hypothesis disproven?”

  Scout gasps. “Don’t use science terminology. That’ll only make it worse.”

  “Mmmm. Centrifugal force.” Her mouth drops open and I swoop down to the kiss the corner of her parted lips. The move causes her neck to lose power and I dip my head to rake my tongue up the side of that smooth slope, snagging her earlobe in my teeth. “Beta particles.”

  So help me God, she can barely catch her breath.

  I’m jealous of science.

  Or maybe it’s all me turning her on, because her legs almost collapse when I palm her pussy, massaging it firmly through her moist panties. “Easton,” she moans, clinging to my shoulders. “How can that feel so good even when I’m sore?”

  The word “sore” wrenches something in my chest.

  I barely stop myself from shoving my face into her neck and howling in denial.

  “Goddammit,” I manage around the tightness in my throat. “I knew I was too rough, especially at the end.” I kiss her forehead apologetically. “You were just so wet and tight.”

  “You were perfect.” She kisses my pec, smooths her hands down my chest. “It was just my first time. That’s why I’m sore.”

  I adjust my erection. “This can wait. What will make you feel better?”

  When she bites her lip and gives me a mischievous look, it becomes blatantly obvious that I’m out of my head in love with Scout. Permanently. No way out. I never stood a chance. “We could do a science experiment.”

  A laugh barks out of me. “The kitchen is yours.”

  For the next half an hour, I drink my coffee and watch her flit around the kitchen like a hot, nerdy fairy. She retrieves an empty, plastic, two-liter bottle from the recycling and fills it with oil and water. Next she finds green food coloring
and adds several drops, her brow pinched in concentration. She adds a healthy dose of salt, then shifts the bottle side to side.

  “Do you have the flashlight app on your phone?” she asks over her shoulder.

  Nodding, I open it up, setting it down on the counter.

  Biting her lip, she carefully places the bottle on top and I realize what she’s done.

  “It’s a do-it-yourself lava lamp.”

  “Uh-huh,” she says, grinning. “See, the salt binds the oil, making it heavier than water.”

  “An equal and opposite reaction.”

  “Yes.” She beams at me. “Next time, I’ll make a battery out of a potato.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she tries to jog them back. “I-I didn’t mean next time. I know there can’t be a next time.”

  My heart rips up into my mouth at the thought of her leaving. Of coming down to this kitchen tomorrow morning and not having her here, doing science experiments in one of my T-shirts. I’m already miserable at the prospect. “I’ve decided that I’ll be keeping you here until tomorrow, Scout.”

  Is that relief that loosens her shoulders? Parts her lips? “I’d like that.” She ducks her head, but I catch her smile. “But I do have class tomorrow morning.”

  “I can have someone collect clothes, books, whatever you need from your apartment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll drop you off at school.”

  She nods. “And that will be it.”

  My coffee boils in my stomach. “Yes. It has to be.”

  * * *

  Eventually my chef arrives to make breakfast.

  From her perch on my knee, Scout makes a list of items she needs from her apartment and I relay it to my security team. One of them is sent to purchase her a variety of bathing suits and they return with several options within the hour. Now I stand in my bedroom with a cock made of steel, watching her try them on in the full-length mirror.

  Every time she looks at one of the price tags, she frowns over her shoulder in my direction and it makes me fantasize about all the ways I would spoil her rotten, if I was able to keep her forever. Just to get that cute little frown of reproach. I’d build her a science lab to start, because it’s obvious that conducting experiments makes her happy.