by Hazel Grace
“Well?” He extends the phone to me but keeps moving back and forth, setting more irritation through my body but also a sliver of anxiety. He normally isn’t so fidgety. That’s Bishop. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Not me, brother—” He ends up tossing the cell when I don’t take it. “—it’s going to be you.”
Catching it, I immediately power on the screen to find a text message thread already opened with only one message.
Unknown: Call the attack of Reagan Lockwood off. Montgomery is dead.
Montgomery—I know him.
He’s the shady fucker that Wade got into a pissing match with years ago.
He was sentenced to prison four to five years ago over stealing money from the city of Bridgeport, prostitution, and some other shit.
He was the mayor, Wade was the governor.
They both hated each other.
Wade did an early audit on the city’s assets, and Montgomery went to the big house.
I didn’t know his ties ran that dark in the streets.
My neck jerks up to my Mills. “What is this?”
“It’s the phone of the asshole whose throat you cut the other day,” Mills yammers. “I kept all their shit in case something like this happened, any information.”
“Have you been able to trace the number back?”
Mills slants his head. “Dude, he just got it. I ran over here right away.” I fling it back to him, restlessness and dread pouring into me like a freight train.
“Run it.” I rake my hand through my hair, pulling at strings to keep my cool. “Thanks, man.”
Mills finally stops moving, transferring his anxiety to me with his lack of movement. “What’s next?” I shake my head once because I don’t know.
I didn’t have this part planned out in my head—when this ended. I had a half-ass idea of what would occur, but I’m not quite sure if this text is legit or not, and I’m just not ready for certain parts to be finished.
“Do you want to text Reagan?”
“Nah. Let’s see if this shit is real or not.” If this is the moment where everything ends and goes back to what it was before. Where I could bring my sister back home and stop hunting down killers and wannabe assassins. If this could be too easy where fate or someone else took care of the problem for me.
When it’s finally time to let Stormi go.
I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, it’s inappropriate and childish.
But Mills is never quiet.
His whispering and pacing the living room floor is a sight I thought I’d never see.
Mills is the kind of guy that seems like he skated through life off luck and his good looks. If I had to put a label on him, he’s the jokester of the group. The one that would cajole you into bed with sweet words but possibly never call you back.
Come to think of it, he’s never spoken much about himself. And along with Emmy’s upset look—something is wrong.
Marty’s back is to me, speaking to both of them, and I’m waiting for my moment to go downstairs and break their conversation, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
They’re a close-knit family, appearing vulnerable as they converse back and forth for some reason. My first thought was Reagan, but I feel as though things in this house would be flying around, and Marty would be more visibly upset.
However, I can’t tell if he is. My first reaction is to comfort them, but I’m an outsider to their world. The last thing they need is me stepping into their business and getting coddled by someone who can only listen and do nothing else to help.
“Then that’s it—” Emmy raises her voice and her hands, giving Marty a look of indifference. “—the decision is made.” Whatever the decision is, she doesn’t sound happy about it at all.
Mills bows his head and shoves his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah,” Marty replies. “Make everything happen ASAP. I need to know that everything is legit before I make a move.”
Emmy doesn’t bother waiting to be dismissed but turns on her heel and exits out the front door, giving it a little more force to close than necessary.
“Not sure if this is the right move,” Mills issues out, keeping his gaze averted off Marty. “It’ll mess more things up.”
“It’ll be fine,” Marty clips back. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, I’m worried as fuck about it.” His friend’s head comes up to stare at him. “This is going to affect a lot of shit.”
“We both know how you would handle this—” Marty takes a menacing step forward, almost aligning in height to Mills. “—however, taking the threat out has been the plan since day one. Now you’re getting soft on me.”
“Trust me, I’m never soft when—” It’s then that I move from around the wall upstairs, scared that their “talk” is going to come to blows.
Descending down the staircase, I immediately catch Mills’s attention, and his face softens, back to his normal self.
“Hey, Cinderella,” he greets, yanking his hands from his jeans and rounding Marty to meet me. “I’m making dinner tonight. You like lobster?”
“Never had it,” I reply, forcing a smile through their tension that sticks at my skin. “And is it safe for you to be cooking with—”
“Girl,” he draws out, narrowing his eyes at me as he props his elbow on the banister. “I’m the best chef you’ve ever eaten from. Trust me.”
“I do.”
His lips crack into a giant smile. “That’s my girl.” He points at me with his index finger and wags it. “No snacks. I want y’all hungry as shit.”
“Already there.”
“She’s eating,” Marty conveys, turning around so I can finally get a look at him. Besides the slight glare at the back of Mills’s head, nothing else seems out of sorts. Which only has my curiosity even more peaked. “Dinner isn’t for another million hours.”
“Breakfast—” Mills swings his arms in the air in an “X” motion. “—and that’s it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...I have shit to do.” He bows, winks at me as he straightens his spine, and takes off out the front door behind Emmy.
Marty replaces his spot, standing at the end of the stairs and leaning against the handrail as I finish coming down the rest. His eyes bore into my body, and I don’t miss the hunger that glistens over them as he soaks me up in his vision.
“I was hoping you’d still be in bed.”
I smile as I hit the hardwood floors, gaining his focus back on my face. “It’s almost noon.”
“So? There is no time where I don’t want you, sweetheart.” My body buzzes at the drop of his tone, the deep octave that ripples down my chest right down to what he has in mind.
I clear my throat, grasping for self-composure that I have little of because this isn’t one-sided.
It’s mutual as hell.
Taking half a step in the direction of the kitchen, Marty is in my space, nudging me back into the wall.
My spine gently lays flat against the hard surface, coming face to face with the man who will drop everything going on around him just to be near me.
God, I love that about him.
As stupid as it may seem and be, Marty makes me feel like nothing else in the world. He’s addicting and desolate at times, but all in all, he makes me smile. He makes me feel safe and wanted. He creates self-esteem that I never had before. He initiates my body to react, crave and want to belong to him.
“Can we do this, maybe after breakfast?” I ask stupidly because let’s be real, I’d let Marty do whatever he wants no matter how much I may disagree or argue.
I am moronically in love with this man for all the wrong reasons except for the ones that generate what he’s transformed me into.
Marty tucks his face into the crook of my neck, composing my eyes to close on their own. The tip of his tongue skates up to my ear, enclosing his lips around it and well aware of where my weakness lies—my killshot. The place that drives me crazy in lust
and blind passion for him.
“I just need five minutes, baby.” The mixture of the stubble on his face, the way he still smells like us from earlier this morning, and his hard body against mine, I’m having a really hard time finding words to tell him that I am, in fact, really starving.
His hand on my waist slithers downward, letting his middle finger edge along the waistband of my shorts.
He’s waiting for me to say no.
To break from him and demand that I get fed.
It’s something I should do.
Something that I should take in spurts—him—and not let Marty sink his dick inside me every time he needs to release. No matter when or where.
Except I like him using my body in reckless abandon. I also don’t mind the dirty things he whispers. I always yearn for another night, day, mid-afternoon—anytime with him.
“Are you wet for me yet?” he taunts, his warm heavy breath tickling the inside of my ear. “I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to you, Stormi. I’ll let you starve for a little longer just so that I can have you.”
“Are we back to acting like Emric again?” I mutter before Marty chuckles, his chest rumbling against mine as he pulls me closer.
“I am Emric, baby. He just wants to come out and play with the pretty blue-haired angel who’s been taking Marty from him.” I let the back of my head fall to the drywall behind me, making myself more vulnerable because the answer is always the same. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Gripping my waist, he maneuvers me towards the stairs, letting my butt hit the step. He’s immediately on his knees in front of me, yanking at my bottoms to work me in whatever little plan he has played out in his head.
In this position, overlooking the room, Marty looks like he’s my servant, and I’m the queen above him. He’s on the hardwood floors, more than likely uncomfortable, wanting and needing to please me.
My panties are pushed aside when his mouth brushes along my clit, and his tongue lapses from my core all the way up in a slow, languid hike to the place he knows he’s going to score. My moan is an unrestrained need of pleasure as he does it one more time before sucking me between his lips.
Spreading my legs wider, Marty becomes uncalculated, something he never is. Just the reality of the situation that I can make him lose almost all of his control is invigorating. It feels powerful and compulsive, wanting to see how far I can push and prod him into becoming so overwhelmed with lust that we both combust with each other.
“Fucking perfect,” he utters against me, his thumbs digging into my thighs. He’s on a high, wound up, restless and about to lose his entire shit. It’s how he keeps himself grounded because he won’t come up for air until his name is on my lips as I come. “Now I know what all the fuss is about.”
I roll my eyes, a smirk composing off my lips at his roleplay.
Sure he goes by two different names, but to me, he’s just a combination of them now. And if Emric isn’t fully satisfied, then it means that I haven’t fully done my job yet.
Leaning forward, I shove Marty by his shoulder, prompting him out from between my legs. He raises his chin to peer up at me, confusion lacing his features as I scoot down the stairs, noticing that his cock is already out of his jeans.
God, this man.
I flick my attention to his hazels. “Lay down.”
“For—” I nudge him back again, getting him to sit on his ass at the bottom of the stairwell.
His focus follows my fingers as I pull my panties down my thighs, past my knees, and, when they get to my ankles, he tries to sit up before my voice cuts into his movement.
“Don’t move.”
His eyes tighten in disapproval before they thaw when I rise to my feet. He doesn’t bother to hide the rapture glistening in his irises, and I pray to God that Mills or Emmy doesn’t mortify me by walking through that front door with my being naked from the waist down.
Stepping down, I straddle both sides of Marty’s body with my feet then lower myself to my knees. His palms immediately grip my ass when mine hit his chest and shove him to lie on his back.
Surprisingly, he complies, watching me in awe that keeps fueling the prevailing affect I know that I have on him.
“Marty paid for his sins,” I surmise, keeping my eyes glued to his. “Now it’s your turn.” I loom closer. “Question is, do I want to keep you afterward or not?”
“More than likely not.” There is no teasing in his voice, just him matching my stare.
“I’ll be the judge, jury, and verdict on that,” I rebuff, positioning my ass to brush against his hard length. His eyelids flutter slightly, and I begin gently humping his torso teasingly. “I’m assuming you fuck hard?”
His features harden. “Very hard, sweetheart.” I lift myself, finding the tip of his cock and slowly falling down his length before I stop when he’s barely inside.
“Pity,” I spout, biting down innocently on my lower lip. “I fuck extremely sweet...and slow.”
“Stormi,” he warns. “Not the best time.”
I cock my head to the side, letting my hair fall seductively down my shoulder. “Isn’t every time the best time with me?”
“It is when you’re underneath me, and my craving for you isn’t at an all-time high. You’re taunting and fucking with the beast, baby. You might want to—” I impale myself completely, feeling absolutely content and, again, ruthless in my attempt to show Marty how much I want him.
“Fuck,“ he hisses, hands clamping down on my hips as he leans up to reach me. Except my palms are still barricades between us, not giving him the space he craves.
I moan, rising slightly just to fall back down, grinding my way into my own build-up that he already started.
“Stormi,” he warns. “Fuck, baby, come here.”
“Mhm—” I close my eyes, my clit brushing against his torso as I ride him the way I want. “—leave me alone.” I hear him growl before the tips of his fingers start to dig deeper into my flesh.
He craves more, and I want him at my mercy and pleasure for just another minute. I love taking him like this—not that he doesn’t do an amazing job any other way—but being on top of a powerful man for the first time, I’m letting myself be selfish for once in my life.
He’ll survive—I think.
“You made your point,” he chides. “Now let me—”
“Finding out what all the fuss is about?” I open my eyes and view him from above, studying me like the prey I used to be.
Maybe I still am.
Either way, I don’t care anymore if it’s anything like this. He could take the reins from me at any time, but he’s allowing me this.
Reluctantly.
“The little angel fucking the beast...does it feel good?” It’s as though I suck something from him the moment I say the words because his eyes flutter, and he releases a shaky exhale. I lean forward, confidence sprinting through my veins like a rocket. “I took Marty, and now I’m taking you too.”
His hand wraps around the back of my head and hurls his lips into mine. Not even a second before I feel them, his tongue entangled with mine mercilessly.
He tastes like he cheated and ate without me today. The hint of blueberry prominent off his taste buds.
I bite down on his lower lips. “Did you eat breakfast?” His mouth curves into a smile as he thrusts deep, getting as far as he can reach.
I stifle back a groan, fisting my fingers that lay at the sides of Marty’s head.
“What are you gonna to do about it?” he jeers. One of my hands weave inside his dark hair, and I give it a nice yank.
“I’ll show you,” I deadpan before straightening my back and fucking him at a casual pace. He tries to pick it up, but my butt keeps his knees from heaving too much.
Marty or Emric, whomever he wants to say he is right here in front of me, they’re the same person.
He just keeps them separate.
The man in front of me thinks the same way, acts like a boorish idio
t, but he’s mine right now.
He’ll always be mine.
A small piece, a sliver of time will forever be something that no one will ever be able to touch or replace. And no matter what happens after all of this, he made me see what I could accomplish, who I could be.
My breathing starts to become erratic as my build up begins to rise with each fall on his cock.
“God,” I shudder, my speed increasing with each upward and downward motion.
My hands fist his t-shirt, holding on for dear life as I demand his body to give mine what I need.
“He isn’t here, baby,” Marty claims. “Just me. Always just me.”
I glimpse down at him, a new wave of emotions crashing into my skull as he admires me.
I’m in love with him, and I’m scared.
I’m afraid I won’t love anyone like him again. I’m terrified that I took this too far and got in too deep. I’m nervous that I’m the only one that feels this way and will pay the biggest price.
“Take what you want.” The fingers of one of Marty’s hands brush my hip, and he finds my clit, rubbing faint circles around it. “Use me. Fuck me. You already own me.”
I collide on impact at his confession, my lungs constricting so harshly for air that I feel the room begin to spin.
Marty clutches my cotton tee and drags me to his mouth, getting the weight off his pelvis so that he can pound into me at his own leisure.
“And you’re mine.” His lips roughly smash into mine as he drives into me, hard and unforgiving, chasing his own fervor.
My pussy throbs with each determined impale of his cock, and he eats me alive with his lips, tongue, and everything that is him.
Pulling out of me, he rubs his length against my ass, hot liquid coating my skin, and he growls into my mouth. He doesn’t stop until he needs to breathe on his own, pressing his forehead into mine as we try and find our rhythm.
Once he’s somewhat back to normal, he gives me another punishing kiss, not needing any more words to express how he feels.
This is already retribution, I’m just not going to be sentenced for it by my peers.
I’m going to live with it for the rest of my life for it to devour me whole.