by Kenya Wright
“Maybe.”
“Where did you get it? Do you carry that along with your packets of popcorn?”
I blushed. “T-this is yours.”
“No, sweetheart.” He grinned. “I’ve got more dick in my pants than I need for any lifetime.”
Uh. O-kay.
I whispered, “It was in your guest bedroom’s drawer. I figured you used it on women.”
“It’s not mine.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
Surprising me, he brushed his lips against my ear. “Open my pants. Let me show you why that dildo isn’t mine.”
I gulped.
“Open my pants,” he whispered.
“W-what?”
Fuji stumbled our way. “Boss, I—”
“Go downstairs and close the door behind you, Fuji!” Noah yelled. “We’ll talk later.”
The big man tossed me an evil eye and did as Noah ordered.
“So, go ahead.” Noah turned back to me. “Open my pants.”
My heart banged into my chest. “No.”
He nibbled the tip of my ear. Shivers ran through me. Good ones. The action should’ve scared the shit out of me, but I feared more what was in his pants and what he wanted to do next. Still, I couldn’t deny the tenderness in the way he used his teeth and the tiny dark moan that escaped his lips.
Thank, God I couldn’t see his face. I had no idea if he was playing me or not. Was this a dominance thing? Or was he really turned on? And did it even matter? Would it save me or would I just get a nice good fuck before I died?
That would be the most depressing orgasm in history.
“Why are you so quiet?” He nibbled my ear again.
My nipples hardened. Embarrassment built in my chest. I wasn’t supposed to be turned on. Especially by a man like him, one that radiated so much power and probably killed for fun. One that had me imprisoned and scared shitless.
This is some sort of Horny Stockholm Syndrome thing happening to me.
“Maybe, you should tell me a joke.” He touched my earlobe with his tongue and traced a wet, hot line all the way to the tip.
I shuddered under his grip. “What are you doing?”
“I’m learning something about you.” He pulled back and licked his lips. “You want to fuck me.”
“What?”
“You want to fuck me.” The words came out vile, yet my body warmed. He got closer and pressed his thick, hard cock against my thigh.
Jesus. He’s big. There’s no way I’m taking that out.
With no distance remaining between us, not one inch, he was a hard body of muscle pressed against me. And every part of me throbbed with hunger.
“I’m right. Aren’t I?” he whispered. “I have to be right, because if you didn’t want to fuck me, then why wouldn’t you just sit in the room and be a good girl?”
“How does that even relate to—”
“You want to fuck me, either physically, mentally, or metaphorically. But you definitely want to fuck me.”
“I don’t.”
“Your escaping and going to the police would fuck me. Making my main bodyguard look like a bubbling idiot in front of my men would fuck me.” He rubbed his hard cock against my thigh and it took everything in me to stifle the moan rising in my chest. “So why don’t you just open my pants and fuck me the right way. Take my dick out and play with it. Get on those pretty little knees, put my cock between those beautiful tits of yours and suck on the tip like a good girl.”
My breath left me. My nerves fizzled to nothing and around my flesh, lust skittered and dived in, out, and between my thighs.
“You want to fuck me,” he growled. “And I’m thinking I like that idea. How do you want it?”
“Y-you’re confused.”
“Hurry. I have things to do,” he growled some more. “How do you want it? You pick and then I’m going to fuck you until you’re swollen. After that, you take your ass back into that bedroom and be a good little girl that I won’t have to kill.”
“You’re going to kill me anyway.”
For some reason that made him pull away. Part of me was happy. The other hoped to feel his cock against my leg for one more second. How many women had begged him to come to their bed? I bet a lot. In some twisted way, it felt good that he was aroused just as much as me.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“You’re going to kill me anyway. You’re just waiting.”
“I’m waiting?” He didn’t smile or frown. “For what?”
“You’re waiting for the right time and a good plan.”
“I’m a fucking beast, sweetheart. Anytime is a great time to kill. If I wanted you dead, you’d be gone. I don’t need an elaborate plan.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He let go of my arms, slipped his hands over my shoulders, and wrapped his fingers around my neck, but didn’t squeeze. “Chocking you to death would take me one minute.”
I gulped down fear.
“One minute.” He tightened his hold on my neck, but I could still breathe. “I know this, because I’ve done it to tiny necks like yours. Now, calling someone to get rid of your body would only take five seconds. Sure, getting rid of your corpse could take time. But I have a walk-in freezer in my club’s kitchen that’s reserved strictly for dead people. Maybe, I don’t want to store your corpse. Maybe, I’ll have Fuji or Crusher drop you in a truck and bury your body in another place that’s reserved for my dead people. All and all, that would take a good hour—from my snapping your neck to you being in the ground.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Good.” With his hands still around my neck, he moved one of his thumbs to my bottom lip and followed its outline. For some reason, that was the deed that made me wet. Not his hard dick no longer against my thigh. Not his nasty words that drove me crazy. Not even the wild look in his eyes every time he turned his gaze to my breasts. It was that damned thumb on my lip and the fact that he really didn’t intend on killing me that had my body going crazy.
Okay. So he’s not that bad. I guess. I mean. Well. . .he kills, but he’s not going to kill me. So that gives him major points in my book.
“You want to fuck me?” He sneered like a horny bastard. “Don’t you?”
My nipples continued to stiffen to unbearably hard. I couldn’t even look at him. “Stop saying that.”
Buzzing came from the back of his pocket.
“That’s your phone,” he said. “I bet this is another dick pic from Don’t Answer: Harrold. He’s been sending one every two minutes. It’s given me something to laugh at as I deal with the mess around me.”
“He’s my ex.”
The way he said the next word scared me. “Good.”
“So, you’re not going to kill me?”
“No. Not unless you make me.”
“Then what are you going to do to me?”
Leaning away a little, he drank my whole body in. “I haven’t decided yet. For now, you stay with me until I handle a problem.”
“I can’t just stay here. I go to college. I have places to be tomorrow.”
“What’s your major?” he asked.
“English.”
“Interesting. When’s your first class?”
“At two pm.”
“I’ll figure something out. Until then, don’t make me have to reconsider choking you.” He released me and stepped back.
Okay. I’m not going to die. This is good. Not awesome since I’m still here. Other things could happen, but so far, I’m safe-ish.
A boom sounded at the door. A hoarse voice spoke next. “Boss?”
Noah frowned. “Come in, Crusher.”
And Crusher came in. The man definitely fit the name. He could probably crush someone with one of his elephant-sized fists. He towered over both of us. His shoulders rose like mountains. Someone had tattooed an image resembling a knife on the side of his face, and at the tip, it dripped blood. Truthfully, it looked more like
one of those 18th century quills leaking ink, but I bet no one had the balls to tell him that. A huge top hat sat on his head, although he wore a black t-shirt and jeans.
Turning my way, Crusher eyed me with death in his gaze.
Damn. I thought Noah’s eyes were cold. I don’t even think anybody lives inside of this guy. Hello? Anyone there? Nope. Just death. Yep. Get me the fuck out of here!
Crusher scared the shit out of me.
But clearly, Noah wasn’t terrified at all. “Get on with it. You have news, Crusher, or are you just cock blocking?”
Uh. . .you probably shouldn’t talk to Crusher that way.
Surprisingly, the bulky man lowered his view to the floor like I’d seen Fuji do. “We found Domingo.”
Noah’s tone held no patience. “And?”
“You won’t like this,” the scary man said.
“Say it, before I take my anger out on you.”
Oh, my God. Are you fucking kidding me, Noah? This man could wrestle a bear and then teach bears how to wrestle bears! Maybe you should speak a little nicer.
Crusher’s words were rushed. “Domingo is at his son’s birthday party.”
“Shit,” Noah said. “Which son?”
“Domingo Jr.”
“Damn, I had no idea his birthday was today.”
“The party is at his first wife’s house.”
Noah closed his eyes for a second, as if he was suddenly in a lot of pain. “I know the house.”
“Manny’s in a house across the street,” Crusher continued. “He’d been banging some chick over there, so I told him to do lookout and let me know if he spotted Domingo. He just called and said that Domingo arrived with ten men. His arms were full of presents.”
Noah muttered a curse under his breath.
“Manny thinks he can get a good target on him,” Crusher said. “And just shoot him from the window.”
“No!” Noah roared. “Domingo is at his kid’s birthday. No one is allowed to shoot him.”
“I know, but,” Crusher shrugged. “That’s the consequences of the streets.”
“You know better than anybody why we shouldn’t kill in front of kids.”
Sadness replaced the look of death in Crusher’s eyes and then it returned to scary. “You’re right, boss.”
“Plus, Domingo Jr. is my god son.” Noah rubbed his face and then looked at me. “What dress size are you?”
I tapped my chest. “Excuse me? Are you talking to me?”
“Dress and shoe size.”
“Umm,” I cleared my throat. “Small and—”
“Naw.” He drank in my breasts again. “You’d be busting out of a small anything. Crusher?”
“Yeah, boss.”
“Is Po around the corner still trying to get rid of those racks of clothes he stole?”
“Yeah.”
“Get everything and bring it upstairs.”
I raised my hand. “I. . .I can just get some clothes from my dorm room.”
“No, we don’t have the time. We’ve got a party to go to, and knowing Domingo, it’s all dressy and spiritual. You’ll need to be out of those jeans and sandals. He’s got a thing about women wearing pants. It sets him off.”
Sounds like an equal opportunity sort of guy.
“And why do I care?” I asked.
“Because I do.”
“Wait. I’m going with you?” I asked.
“I can’t leave you here,” Noah said. “You’ve shown me that.”
Crusher raised his head and turned his death stare my way. “I could watch her for you, boss.”
Oh God, no! Please, no! I’ll listen. I’ll open your pants and take your dick out. Shit. I’ll open anybody else’s pants and take their dicks out!
Noah smiled. “What do you think, Mary Jane? Would you like Crusher to watch you? He would love your jokes.”
I shook in fear. “I would very much like to go to a birthday party, instead. No disrespect to Crusher, of course.”
“Of course.” Noah’s smile widened. “But still. . .I do think Crusher would love your jokes. Maybe we should have him come with us. He could keep you company while I’m busy at the party.”
“Or I could just stay by your side, like a good, little girl.”
“Mmmm. A good, little girl?”
I made a point of looking at his crotch and then gazing back at him. Whatever worked, I would try. “Yes, boss. A good, little girl.”
“Interesting. I like when you call me boss.”
My stomach growled. I raised a shivering hand. “Can I get some candy, too?”
Noah quirked his eyebrows. “Candy? Don’t you have it all over my table.”
“I was wondering, if I could get some chocolate.” My heart skipped. “When I get super nervous and hyped up, I like some chocolate to calm down.”
“Snickers?”
“That’s fine.”
He turned to Crusher. “You heard that.”
The monster of a man nodded.
“Go get those dresses from Po, too.” Noah signaled for Crusher to leave.
The big, burly man left. As soon as the door closed, Noah closed the distance between us and his eyes were less cold. In fact, they blazed with desire. “You gesture like that to my cock again, and I’ll take it out and introduce you to him.”
Breathless, I nodded.
More buzzing came from his pocket. Sighing, he pulled my phone out, slid his finger across the screen, and then glared at me.
“Another dick pic?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “You have shitty taste in men.”
“He’s my ex.”
“If he sends another dick pic to this phone, I’m going to find him and cut that little thing off.”
Finally, the evening brightened.
“Oh, goodie,” I said. “Could I be there to watch?”
Chapter 5
Noah
An intellectual had been at a wedding-reception.
As he was leaving, he said: "I pray that you two keep getting married so well."
–Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)
Agitated, I stood in the living room, waiting for Mary Jane.
It took Crusher ten minutes to get the dresses and shoes up to my apartment, another ten for Mary Jane to pick something. She’d wanted the chocolate first, but I refused to give it to her until we got in the limo.
Maybe I can use candy to make her listen. She’s insane. It’s like she doesn’t even see the guns. And hitting Fuji with the dildo? What the fuck?
I sent Mary Jane to my master suite’s bathroom to get ready. After her snooping around in my sex room, I didn’t want her back in there.
What was she thinking when she saw all of that stuff?
I hadn’t used that room in years. When I first moved in, Butterfly had helped me decorate. Or more like she tried to take over as much as possible. That room was one of Butterfly’s concepts, until I gave up and told her I didn’t need any help. After decorating the rest of my loft, I made changes to the Butterfly-inspired room and simply dedicated it to the girls I brought home.
The women never cared. Most were the dirty and heartless kind. When they slithered into my bed, they were fucking power, not Noah the man. It didn’t matter who thrust into them. It could’ve been Crusher or Fuji, Toad or Domingo. They just wanted to sleep with the guy who was at the top of the game, get in his head, and get shit out of him. Not me. They all tried and failed, realizing that the ice in my eyes reached deep down to my core.
Females like that were never brought to my bedroom. One didn’t close their eyes to women like that. If the person did, they probably wouldn’t wake up the next morning. These chicks seized opportunities and stabbed guys in the chest when their dicks were wet and limp on their thighs.
That’s why I hadn’t been in the room in years. I’d gotten tired of sticking my cock in vile holes. Instead, I kept a few main ones around, making sure that they knew it wasn’t more than sex, but understanding that I�
��d have their backs as long as they had mine. I picked a hotel and kept them out of my home.
I’d have to call one of them tonight. In that moment, as I waited for Mary Jane to finish dressing, I could hear the sounds of fabric sliding across her skin. Things snapped too. I wondered what each item was. And the whole time, my cock grew hard, just as stiff as it was when we stood outside in the hallway, and I really yearned to pound into her.
She’s lucky that Crusher came in and interrupted us. I damned sure was about to take my cock out and let the cards fall where they may.
However, I wouldn’t lose control like that again. There would be no reason to mess with a woman like her. She was too square, led a normal life, and had no stomach for my world.
An English major? No way. English majors didn’t hold the hands of thugs, they clutched their pearls and ran away in fear.
When the door opened to my bedroom, all thoughts evaporated.
“Okay.” Mary Jane stepped out wearing a beautiful red dress. The material didn’t hug her body, but flowed over every curve and didn’t do a good job of hiding them. She’d gathered her lovely mop of curls into some sort of up-do, giving me a better view of her face.
She blushed. “This is the only dress where the girls would fit.”
Her breasts barely stayed snug. They appeared close to busting out. I wondered what her breasts looked like in the other dresses.
I should’ve had her model them for me. What the fuck am I saying? We don’t have time for that.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do you want me to take this off?”
Fuck.
I had nothing to say. If I’d been hard before, now I was past the point of no return. Within seconds, my cock stuck straight out and pushed against my pants.
“Noah? Is this okay?” She tossed me a weak smile and then her gaze lowered to my cock. “Oh. I’m going to take that as a yes.”
Look at it like that again and it’s going to be inside of you.
I might’ve said that, if I hadn’t been gritting my teeth and digging my nails into the palms of my hands to keep my fingers off her. Instead, I walked off.
She followed, mumbling something behind me.
What did she say? No. Forget what she said. I have to focus on Domingo. What the hell am I going to do when I get to this party?