It’s my fucking daughter.
“God, you suck dick like a fucking angel,” Rodriguez says on the video as she gets up on her knees fully displaying her naked chest.
I slap the phone from his hand and grab ahold of his throat, pushing him up against the wall.
“You’re fucking with my daughter?” I bite out.
His face is turning red. He opens his mouth to talk, but I’m restricting his airflow so nothing but a squeak comes out. I loosen my grip just a bit.
“She’s legal, man,” he croaks.
My fingers tighten to the point where I can feel his windpipe caving in from the force.
“I should kill you right fucking now.”
“If I’m not…” gasp, “back to stop it…” gasp, “it’ll go live.”
Goddamn this mother fucker! It takes the grace of God, but I force my fingers to let go of his throat. He falls to the floor wheezing for air.
I walk around my desk and write him a check, ripping it from the book with a little too much force. Anger surges through me as I walk back around and throw the paper in his face.
I bend down to his level. “Go delete that fucking video. If I ever hear another word about this, I’ll shoot you in the fucking head myself.” I stand erect and grab his hat off my desk, tossing it at him. He catches it quickly, grabs his check, and runs from my office.
4
I walk into the house after a long day at the office and head straight to the kitchen. The refrigerator door is open, and my wife’s curvy ass is sticking out past the door like she’s bent over, looking deep inside for something.
Quietly, I walk up behind her and land a firm smack to her bikini-clad backside, making her toned ass jiggle just a bit. She darts up straight and spins around to face me.
To my surprise, it isn’t Amelia.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought you were my wife.”
Her face blushes, but I recognize the look in her dark eyes. She fucking loved it.
She lets out a giggle. “I’m Beth. Harper’s friend.”
Fuck me… This is my daughter’s friend? But fuck, she’s pretty sexy. I look her up and down — all the way from her pink painted toes up her tanned, toned legs to her flat but firm stomach then to a pair of big tits that are at least a C cup ending at her angular face with wide eyes and pouty lips.
“I apologize, Beth. It’s nice to meet you. I always love meeting the people my Harper brings into her life. Have you two been friends long?” I can’t help but notice the way her eyes are drinking me in.
Without thinking, I loosen my tie and remove my jacket, stepping around her to toss them onto the counter.
She doesn’t answer, she’s mesmerized by watching me. My eyes widen when she doesn’t answer.
“Oh, ummm… for a few months, I guess.” She wets her plump lips.
I step closer, and her eyes widen until she realizes that I’m reaching for the handle on the fridge. She quickly steps to the side and allows me to grab a bottle of water.
I uncap the lid and take a long swallow. When I turn around, she’s still standing there… watching.
“Is there something you need?” A good fuck, maybe?
“Hey, Dad,” Harper says, walking into the kitchen, also dressed in a bikini.
“Hi, honey. How was your tiring day of shopping?”
She lets out a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Painful. I almost got a callus from holding all those shopping bags myself.” She squeezes between me and Beth and opens the fridge. “You know, I think next time you should have one of your lackeys follow me around, holding my things for me.” She turns and gives me a smile.
I laugh. “Harper, I think if you’re too spoiled to hold your own purchases, you need to get out into the real world.”
She rolls her eyes, yet again. “Come on, Beth. Let’s go back to the pool before Dad decides to send me out into the workforce.”
Harper leaves the room with Beth following along behind her, but the whole time she glances at me from over her shoulder.
That peek-a-boo look has always fucking done me in. My cock starts to grow hard. I mean, I didn’t even have a lunch date today. How can I be expected to control myself when my dick is aching to sink into someplace warm? A fresh eighteen-year-old with no experience but eager to please is looking better and better the longer she gives me that, daddy, please fuck me look.
I stick my head out the patio door. “Harper, where’s your mother?”
She’s floating in the middle of the pool on a raft. She picks up her head and lowers her sunglass just a bit. “Out with the housewives.”
I nod and roll my eyes but retreat to my home office. I’ve just poured a strong drink and lit a cigar when Enzo steps inside. “Just wanted to swing by and give you an update on everything, sir.”
“Great, let’s hear it.” I take a seat in my leather desk chair.
He crosses the room and holds out a file folder. I take it and drop it on the desk. “How’s our newest employee?”
“Getting his brains beat out as we speak,” he says, flatly.
“Good. If he can put up a fight with my men, he’s actually got a fighting chance at making it out there on the streets.” I open the folder and read over the inventory list.
Enzo walks around my office aimlessly looking at my family photographs. When I look up, he’s staring at a picture of me and Amelia on the beach from our honeymoon.
“It looks like everything’s in order here.”
He snaps his attention back to me. “Absolutely. Want me to tell the guys it’s time to move it?” he asks, walking over to my drink cart and pouring himself a drink.
My eyes dip back to the list, wanting to make damn sure everything is as it should be. “Wait a minute…”
His hand freezes on its journey to bring the glass to his mouth.
“This number seems off to me.” I stand and walk across the room to my filing cabinet, pulling out a folder. I take it back to my desk and sit down, flipping through the papers until I find what I’m looking for.
Enzo walks over to my desk and leans over it, trying to figure out what I’m seeing.
I point to a number on the page. “It says here that I should have exactly 150 kilos.” My eyes flash to him quickly before snapping back to the paper he brought me. “You stated here that you weighed out one-hundred and twenty kilos.” I straighten my back and stare him down.
“That’s impossible. Nobody but us has had their hands on it since delivery.” Now, he’s urgently looking over the papers.
“Do you know how much a kilo of cocaine costs?”
He doesn’t answer. He just keeps looking at the papers in front of us.
“Twenty-five grand for one kilo!” I pound my fist on the desk, and it causes him to jump. “And you’re missing thirty!” I chuck my glass against the wall. It shatters on impact. “That’s a total of 750 grand!”
He quickly runs his fingers through his hair and finishes off his glass in one quick swallow. “I’ll go back. I’ll do it again.” After he sets the glass down on the desk, he rushes toward the door.
“How many times did you weigh it?” I ask, stopping him.
He turns to face me. “Three, just like always, sir.”
“Nobody’s dumb enough to fuck up three times — not even you. It’s missing. Someone took it.” I start pacing, thinking over who it could’ve been.
“Or maybe it wasn’t given it to us, to begin with,” he suggests, a hopeful note in his tone.
I stop and look over at him. “We’ve been doing business with Rocky for years.” I shake my head. “He wouldn’t do that.” Spinning on my heel, I being to wear a pattern in the carpet — back and forth, back and forth. “It’s one of our men.”
“I’ll go see what I can figure out.”
“I’m right behind you. Call the guys. Tell them to get to the warehouse along with all their men. I want every player we have. I don’t care if I have to kill every one of ya. I want my money. You under
stand?” I stop and look at him. I know he feels the anger coming off me in waves. It’s hitting him hard, nearly drowning him.
He quickly nods before rushing toward the door.
I take one last puff and put out my cigar. It looks like I may have to get my own hands a little dirty this time.
Seven-hundred-and-fifty grand… it’s nothing compared to what I have, but it’s nothing to sneeze at either. And to be honest, it’s not even about the money. It’s about one of my men thinking they could get away with something like this. Like I’d never fucking notice.
Mentally, I laugh. I notice everything.
I leave the half-smoked cigar in the ashtray and follow after Enzo. But it looks like he hasn’t gotten far. He’s standing in the middle of the foyer, talking to my half-naked daughter.
“Come on, Enzo. Daddy will never know you touched his princess. I know you want me,” Harper coos, not realizing I’m standing within earshot.
“Harper!” My deep voice causes her to jump. Her fearful eyes pop up to mine.
Enzo quickly looks over his shoulder at me, but I’m stuck on my daughter. What the fuck does she think she’s doing?
He finally turns around and walks out the door, but Harper is still standing completely frozen. She crosses her arms over her chest, and her face puckers. She knows she’s in trouble.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask her, walking closer.
“Nothing.” She rolls her eyes, refusing to look at me.
I take her face in my hand and force her eyes to mine. “If I ever fucking see you throwing yourself at one of my men again, I will bend you over and bust your ass like I did when you were four. Do. You. Understand. Me?”
Her eyes are wide from seeing the seriousness on my face. “Yes, Daddy.”
I release her face and take a step back. “I need to run back to work. Where’s your friend?” I look around the room, expecting to find her.
“She left,” she whispers, embarrassment from being caught shining through her usual perky exterior.
“Alright. Tell your mother I’ll be later than I thought. I want you to go to your room and put on some fucking clothes. With all the men that march through here, you need clothes on at all times. The only place I want to see a bikini is in the pool. You wear a robe between here and there. Got me?”
She nods before stepping past me and heading up the stairs.
I stand back and watch her go, annoyance and disappointment falling off of me. When did my little girl get so big? And how did I not know that I raised this kind of woman? A young woman, but still a woman.
I let out a sigh and rub my head as I walk into the kitchen to get my jacket before heading out. I grab it and as I’m quickly pulling it on, Beth walks into the room. Only now, she’s not wearing her bikini. She’s completely fucking naked, and I was absolutely right. She’s fucking magnificent.
I freeze as my eyes lock on hers. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the laundry room. I look between her and the door she motioned to.
Can I do this? Fuck my daughter’s friend while she’s upstairs and my wife is gone?
Fuck. You know I can.
5
I rush around the island and grab her by the wrist, pulling her into the laundry room. I push her back a few feet before turning and locking the door behind me.
With my eyes glued to her, I rip off my jacket and start loosening my tie.
“Is this what you were hoping for?” I ask, unbuttoning my shirt.
She doesn’t answer, but her eyes are following my hands, and I notice when she swallows.
“Don’t get fucking shy on me now. I don’t play this cat and mouse shit, sweetheart.” I step closer, and she does the same. “If you want something from me, you have to ask for it.” My belt buckle clacks as I unfasten it.
“I want you to fuck me as hard and as long as you want.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” My hand flies up to fist her hair as I spin her around and bend her over the washing machine. Quickly, I push my pants down below my hips. Taking myself in hand, I slide my aching dick between her lips, spreading her wetness.
She’s already fucking panting with excitement. Quickly, I push myself inside her warm pussy, and she calls out while convulsing around me. This right here is why I like them young — legal, but young.
The inexperience is a fucking turn on. They’re always so fucking grateful. The sounds I cause them to make, the way I can control their bodies better than they can — just thinking about it has me ready to fucking come.
As I pound into her, her moans become louder and louder. I have to cover her mouth to ensure Harper doesn’t hear all the way upstairs.
The second her orgasm washes over her, I feel it. Her entire body is hard and twitching, and she soaks me. I can’t take it any longer. I explode into her hot core and thrust as deeply as I can bury myself.
With one last jerk, I pull out, leaving her to lean against the washer for support. I reach down and yank my pants back up with heaving breaths. About the time I get my belt bucked, worry consumes me.
The one thing I always worry about when I’m with someone young: is she on birth control? Most women around here are. They aren’t stupid. However, there are always the ones looking for a lifelong money train.
Fuck.
“Are you on birth control?” I ask her as I pick up my shirt and tie then pull them on.
She finally stands upright and turns to face me. “No,” she answers shyly.
I hang my head and mentally cuss myself out. How the fuck could I be so stupid?
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my wallet. Taking a handful of cash, I pass it to her. “Go get the morning after pill.”
Her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen in shock.
“Don’t act like this is the first time this has happened to you. I fuck a lot of women, and I can tell you’ve been ridden more than a rented Segway.”
Her sudden gasp of breath reveals her horror at my assessment. But it doesn’t change my mind or make me feel bad. With a hand on the doorknob, I look over my shoulder at her. “Now, get dressed and get out of my house before my daughter or wife catches you.” I open the door and step out. “And get that damn pill,” I say as I’m stepping through and closing the door behind me.
I know, I know.... if you weren’t judging me before, you sure as fuck are now.
How could you do that to an eighteen-year-old girl?
First off, she may only be eighteen, but I can guaran-fucking-tee you there have been more dicks in her mouth than toothbrushes. An innocent eighteen-year-old girl doesn’t bait a married man that way. Especially the father of one of her friends. She knew what she was doing, and she fucking wanted it.
A man with any shred of willpower would’ve turned her down, but I’m not a man. I’m a fucking monster who does what he wants and fucks who he wants. If I want it, I take it. Plain and simple. Consequences? Ha, what consequences? I’m un-fucking-touchable, remember?
When I get to the warehouse I find everyone crammed inside. They’re separated into groups. Each of the guys have arranged their men behind them.
As I step into the center of the room, I examining each and every face.
“Enzo,” I motion with my finger for him to stand by me.
He takes his place at my side, and I point to the number on my paper. “What does this say?”
He glances at the paper, and then loudly says, “One-hundred-and-fifty kilos.”
I flip open the other paper and point. “And how much did you unload?”
Again, he glances at the paper even though I’m sure he knows this number by heart.” One-hundred and twenty kilos.”
I smack the paper and look up at everyone nervously watching me. “Thirty kilos!” Everyone flinches when I yell.
“Thirty fucking kilos! Gone!” My anger gets the best of me, and I pace the floor, seething. “Who here thought I was so dumb that I wouldn’t miss thirty fucking kil
os?”
I take in each of their responses. They either shake their heads or don’t move at all.
As I pace, I point at one of the men. “You?”
“No, sir,” he answers.
I keep walking. “Was it you?” I stab my finger at another.
He shakes his head while looking down with his hands behind his back and his feet a shoulder-width apart.
His stance only adds to my anger. This mother fucker doesn’t even respect me enough to look at me when I’m addressing him?
He doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late. I land a firm punch to his stomach. He groans and falls over, holding his abdomen.
“When I speak around here, I expect all you mother fuckers to have eyes on me. Understand?” I ask, looking down at the man I just put on the floor.
“Yes,” they all say in unison while snapping their heads up to look at me.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself so I don’t kill every single fucking person in this room.
When my breathing and pulse have returned to almost normal, I walk back to Enzo. “I want to know where my fucking drugs went. Each of you,” I order and point at Kong, Live Wire, and The Dominator, “figure it out.” I turn and look at Enzo. “You keep your eye on them. If they can’t figure it out, it’s your ass on the line.” I jab my finger in his face before retreating to my office.
When I open the door to the office, the waiting area is dark. Stacy, the secretary, has gone home. There’s a light shining from underneath my office door. Frowning, I quietly pull my gun from its holster and inch closer and closer.
I press my ear to the door but hear nothing. Quickly, I twist the knob and throw it open, aiming my gun all around the room as I do a quick sweep. My leather chair moves slightly.
I begin inching closer and closer to the chair, grabbing hold of the back, ready to spin it around.
I swear to fucking God, if it’s Big fucking around with me and sitting in my chair ready to make demands, there’s going to be a big fucking mess for my men to clean up — either my blood or his.
Dirty Chicago_Season One Page 3