The Perfect Stroke

by Jordan Marie

  Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Either choice is going to be hell.

  The house phone rings and I jump. I shut my phone back down. I don’t take the battery out of it again, however. There’s no point. Paul knows where I’m at, and it’s clear he’s not about to try and contact me now. I reach over and grab the telephone and, reading Roman’s cell number on the caller I.D., I go ahead and answer it.

  “Hey,” I whisper, hoping he can’t hear the worry and panic in my voice.

  “Pet, there’s a business dinner tonight. I’ve tried to get out of it, but there’s no way. It begins at seven.”

  “Oh, okay,” I tell him, a little disappointed. “What time will you be home?”

  “Be home? Ana, you will be going to the dinner with me. There’s a blue dress in your closet that I picked out personally. Put it on, and wear your hair down—I don’t like it when you wear it up. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He hangs up just like that, and I stare at the phone wondering what the hell just happened. My worry over everything going on with Paul and Roman takes a back seat as I replay the conversation in which Roman doesn’t ask if I want to go to a dinner; he just demands it, then instructs me on what to wear and how to fix my hair. Anger takes the place of worry. The asshole just expects me to fall in line like everyone else in his life. I decide to concentrate on him being an asshole and not on the impending doom that’s breathing down my neck. I’ll make up my mind on whether I should come clean with Roman or the detective in charge of the investigation tomorrow.

  Tonight, I have a lesson to teach Roman Anthes.

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  I watch as Ana’s brother looks at the fucker that Bruno just threw down at the man’s feet. The bastard in question is hogtied. He couldn’t move if he wanted to. Marcum really is a master when it comes to ropes. He’s got a gag in his mouth and the bruises on his naked body and face tell me that this was a job that Marcum enjoyed.

  “He doesn’t look familiar?” I ask Ana’s brother.

  You can see the exact moment recognition hits him. Allen’s body literally shakes with it. Then he goes pale, so motherfucking pale I’m starting to think the son of a bitch is going to pass out in front of me. Slowly, I see the heat of anger replace every other emotion.

  “Ana fucking told you?” he screams. “That fucking cunt had no right! Get him out of here, you all fucking need to just get out of here. Kill me already! Stop torturing me! Who the fuck do you think you are? I can’t…”

  I stop his tirade by grabbing him by the neck and slamming him hard against the wall. I squeeze his neck so tight, his face begins to turn blue. His hands don’t even come up to defend himself. Then I look into eyes, eyes so much like Ana’s that it’s unreal. Except these eyes are full of an emotion I never want to see in Ana’s: misery. The son of a bitch truly wants to die. It’s time for some hard truths and it seems I’ve been elected to deliver them.

  “Not one more fucking word about Ana. The reason you’re alive right now, motherfucker, is because of Ana. The reason I’m giving you even a ghost of a chance is because of Ana. For some fucking reason, she loves you. She believes in you. I’m a selfish asshole, so I have to tell you. If you were anyone besides her brother, her even caring for you would be the end of you. Instead, I’m giving you someone to take your aggression out on. I get you’re fucked up in the head. I had to hear my woman cry. She’s innocent to the slime in this world. She hasn’t been exposed to the shit we have. You and I know how fucking twisted shit is. Ana doesn’t. A frightened girl ran and hid from a bastard not knowing her brother would even be considered a victim. You get that? She didn’t know.” I see the need to argue with me in his eyes. I let off the pressure on his neck slightly—not enough for him to talk and argue, but enough so he can breathe. “What you don’t know is that once she knew, she tried to get the monster’s attention away from you. She tried to sacrifice herself to keep him from going after you again. What you don’t know is that she blames herself every fucking day. So you need to get your head out of your ass. Focus your anger on this bastard until you can start to breathe clear again.”

  “What do you know about anything?”

  “A fuck of a lot more than I’ll ever tell you.”

  I see indecision in Allen. I let Allen stew in everything while I instruct the boys to untie our plaything and chain him up on the wall.

  “What’s it matter? I go to jail. I don’t have anything to live for anyways. Just fucking end me and stop torturing me. Word on the street was, you don’t let people breathe air that cross you. Jesus, why are you putting me through this shit?? End me already!” Allen says, screaming his last command, his whole body shaking from the force of it.

  That’s when it hits me. Full-on. In the fucking face.

  “You picked my club because you had a death wish. That’s why you ignored my warnings. That’s why you kept coming back, even knowing you were getting on the Russian’s radar?”

  The kid shrugs, but avoids my eyes. “I figured between you and Kuzma…” he says, but doesn’t finish the thought.

  “If you wanted to die so fucking bad, why not just eat a bullet?”

  “Because no matter how bad I wanted to end it, I could never pull the fucking trigger! There! Satisfied?”

  “What if I told you I had enough power to keep you out of jail?” Allen’s face jerks up to me. Disbelief is clear, but there’s something else.

  “Why would you be willing to do that?”

  “Because you matter to Ana.” I tell him the truth. I’ve come to the conclusion I’d do anything for Ana. Absolutely anything. Even save her worthless brother. Though, if I want to think about it, I can admit to seeing a little more in him now. Maybe something even worth saving.

  “You’re that gone over my sister?” he asks while I take off my jacket and lay it over the top of a chair. Ana is something I’m not discussing with Allen. Something I’m not discussing with any motherfucker. I motion to Bruno and he tosses me the baseball bat I brought earlier.

  “You gonna help me end this motherfucker or not?” I ask him, gripping the bat and walking to the son of a bitch who is squirming against the wall, but knows it’s useless.

  “Why are you helping?”

  “Because he touched Ana. For that alone, he’s not allowed to breathe anymore.”

  Allen is silent for a minute, and then I see half a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m going to help. You first, though, because I want to finish him.”

  I can’t argue; given Allen’s history, I’d demand that too.

  “Batter up, then,” I tell him, right before my bat drums into the side of our prey’s head. I have to remind myself to pull my swings so Allen has something left to play with.

  “You’re home late. I thought we had to be at the dinner by now?" I ask Roman when he walks through the door. He stops to look at me and it takes years of training to keep from squirming. I know he’s taking in my outfit and hair. I’m wearing dress pants, black, with a white lace and silk top. It shows nothing, not even cleavage. My hair, I’ve twisted and secured at my nape, and though I know I look good, I look nothing like Roman instructed. I wait to see if he says anything. I’m almost disappointed when he doesn’t. “We’re going to be late,” I add, waiting for the explosion.

  “I’ll shower and be out in twenty,” he says, which is damn anticlimactic. I’ve been keyed up for an hour wondering what he would say or do. I almost talked myself out of my rebellion two or three times. Now it seems I worried over nothing. I follow him to the bedroom and pick up his discarded trail of clothes.

  I notice there’s a stain on his shirt just as he heads to the shower. “Roman? Did you cut yourself? There’s blood on your shirt.”

  “It’s not mine,” he says ominously over the roaring water in the shower. I decide to let it go and not think about it. Lord knows I have enough on my plate.

  True to his word, Roman is out of the shower and in the limousine headed to the dinner
in thirty minutes. Yet the ride over is really quiet. He’s said very little and I’m picking up a weird vibe from him. Even worse, he’s not given me so much as a simple kiss on the cheek since he got back, and that’s very different from the way he usually is with me.

  “Is everything okay, Roman?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer. We’ve been at the party for an hour. I’ve been introduced, inspected, and dissected since we got here. The men have leered and the women have been trying to kill me with looks. I’m a nervous wreck and I just want out of here. The fact that Roman has kept a hand on me the entire time, either by putting his arm around me or keeping one at the small of my back, is the only reason I haven’t run away. All this, however, and he’s still barely said more than four complete sentences to me. He leads me over to the corner of the ballroom we’re in. We’re the only couple in here and I find I can breathe easy for the first time since we got in the damn vehicle to get here.

  “What could be wrong, pet?”

  “You’re quiet,” I tell him as he pulls us to the corner and leans against it as if he owns the place. Hell, maybe he does. “Roman, maybe we should go home. You don’t seem to be in the mood to be here, and I…”

  “Stand in front of me, Ana, with your back to the others,” he orders, interrupting me.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Do it, Ana.”

  “What are you doing?” I ask, when he roughly pulls me so I’m standing between his legs.

  “That’s easy, pet. I’m going to play with my favorite toy,” he tells me, his hand going to undo the button on my slacks.

  “Roman, we’re in the middle of a business party. They’ll see!”

  “Not if you’re careful. Now, if you draw attention to us… probably.”

  “We can’t do this,” I tell him, even as my breathing speeds up and I look forward to his touch.

  “It is happening. I think you forgot who has control,” he whispers into my ear, and chills run down my body as my heart speeds up. I should hate him when he talks like that. I should hate that he treats me as if I am his property. It shouldn’t excite me the way it does. My body shouldn’t betray me and become aroused until the point of pain, needing what only Roman can give me.

  “I didn’t forget. You would never let me forget,” I tell him, and even to my ears, I sound like a petulant child.

  “Interesting, because I could have sworn I told you to wear a particular dress tonight, and yet here you are in pants.”

  “The dress was too revealing. It showed everything I had.”

  “That’s the problem. It’s mine to reveal. Mine to control and mine to reward. I wanted every man in here to envy what is mine. To look, knowing they could never touch. I like it, Ana. I like knowing the sad fucks are home jacking off by their on hand and hating it because I have what they really want. I’m the one sunk balls-deep inside of her, making her scream. You took that away from me, pet. Now you have to pay the consequences.”

  “Roman…” I gasp his name as his hand slides into my loosened pants and cups my pussy, squeezing it.

  “So warm and hot. This is my pussy now, Ana. Mine. It craves what I can give it,” he growls in my ear as his fingers dive inside of me without warning. Jesus. How many did he thrust inside of me? More than one. Three, maybe? I can’t be sure. The one thing I do know is that he’s right. My pussy is so wet that it made his fingers thrust inside my channel easily. With each glide, and the teasing of his thumb against my clit, my desire increases, making me crave his cock. He’s right. My body is his to control and it does need him. I hate myself because he has that control over me. I hate him because it’s only my body he wants, not me… not my heart.

  “One thing I should tell you, pet.”

  “What?” I ask and it sounds more like a moan.

  “I’m going to finger-fuck you, just like this, for ten more minutes. The only catch is, you can’t come until I tell you.”

  “Roman, I…”

  “If you come, that would be bad. You didn’t want to wear the dress I chose? If you come without permission, I won’t care that everyone in here will see you. I’ll strip you naked, bend you over this chair and fuck you until you tell everyone who you belong to.” His words make my body shake and my orgasm build. My eyes close and I can picture him doing exactly that. Exactly.

  Oh, God.

  Ana trembles in my arms. I was pissed at her for defying me, but I have to admit, I love when she shows fire. Fuck, I love teaching her lessons, and this one might be the most enjoyable yet. Three fingers sink into that tight pussy. She’s so fucking tight that even though she’s drenched, it’s hard to stretch her enough to get them inside of her. The scent of her arousal blooms around us as my thumb makes tiny circles against her throbbing clit. I push into it, holding it. It pulsates against my thumb the same way her walls are massaging against my fingers. It’d take so little to set her off. It makes me think my little Ana is an exhibitionist at heart.

  “My pet is so greedy for my fingers. Does it turn you on, knowing I’m fucking you with a hundred people watching us? They’re all wondering exactly what I’m doing to you, Ana.”

  “Jesus, Roman,” she whispers, her hands biting into my shoulders as she tries to brace herself to keep from falling.

  “Maybe we should show them. Would you like that, pet? Do you want me to get on my knees and eat out your juicy little cunt while they’re all standing back there? Every man in here wants to be able to do that right now. They want between your legs. They want to bury their head so deep into your pussy and eat out this little cunt until your juice runs down their face and they drown in it while you ride them.”

  “Oh, fuck. Roman… I need…”

  “I know what you need. You need me to…”

  “Come. Oh, God. Baby, I need to come,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and raw. Her nails are biting into my skin. I can feel the muscles of her legs clench as her pussy presses down on my hand, trying to suck it further in and ride the hell out of it. She’s already thrusting in rhythm with my hand, forgetting she has an audience. I spin her around, pinning her up against the wall, my body shielding her. I slow down my strokes, now. Letting my fingers glide in and out of her soaked little cunt, but going slow and methodical. It’s not easy. That fucking pussy of hers is so hungry it clings to my fingers, grinding down on me every time they push into her.

  “Roman, please stop torturing me,” she whimpers.

  In response, I bite into the side of her neck, giving her a sting of pain. I can feel her pussy quivering against my hand as even more moisture floods onto my fingers. I know that in one more thrust, one more bite, she’s mine. She’ll come so hard, she’ll scream my name, not caring who can hear her. I’m a bastard enough to want that and I’d give it to her.

  One thing holds me back. She disobeyed me. With that in mind, I stop completely. I pull my hand out from her warm depths with regret. I step back so she can watch me as I suck her sweet juice from my fingers. Fuck. Nothing in the world tastes like my Ana.

  “Roman?” Her voice is confused and full of need.

  I button her pants, leaning in at her ear so that only she can hear me. Fuckers are already trying to get closer to us, to get in on the show. “You don’t get to come, pet. Maybe after we get home and you suck my cock and beg, maybe then. But if you want to defy me when I ask you for something, then that means you still need to learn who is in charge of your body.” I pull away at her gasp, my hand going to her back to steer her back toward the crowd. She walks a step or two but resists me after a minute.

  “But, Roman…”

  “And Ana, if you even think of going to the restroom and making that sweet little pussy come, you won’t sit still for a fucking week. Are we clear?”

  Her eyes go round, her hand coming up to rub nervously against her throat. She nods her head once, watching me the entire time.

  We’re clear.

  With every mile that brings us closer to downtown Miami, my h
eart hurts. The ride has been quiet, each of us in our own thoughts. We came home from the party last night and I thought everything was great. Roman pushed me up against the wall and buried his face between my legs, making me come twice before making slow love to me on the floor in front of the fireplace. We’ve made love a lot of ways, but none have been as sweet and slow as last night’s had been.

  I came so close to telling him I loved him. What would his reaction have been? The unknown of how he would react when he found out all my secrets was the only thing that held me back.

  I was on the verge of my confession when we got the call. Someone had killed Big Joe. His body was thrown out in front of Roman’s expensive club. His men called him the moment the body was discovered. I’m still in shock. I loved Big Joe. He was a mountain of a man with a soft side that he showed the women he protected. Roman held me while I cried, but since the call, I’ve seen the change in him. He’s a man bent on revenge now. Completely business and cold in his demeanor. I understand it, even though I wish he could come back to me and be the man who made me feel alive last night.

  “Did Joe have family?” I wonder aloud, not really asking Roman. I suppose I’m not even fully aware that I asked the question out loud. I just keep thinking what a shame it is that this world is robbed of such a good person.

  “No one.”

  “That’s sad. No one behind to mourn your passing,” I whisper. Roman doesn’t respond. I didn’t really expect him to. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going to drop you off at the apartment and then I have to go to the morgue to identify the body.”

  “I could go with you, Roman,” I tell him, not wanting him to be without me—in the city, especially, as I’m more aware that Paul could try to set Roman up at any moment.