Alex Drakos: Branding Her Again

by Mallory Monroe

  She laid her head on his silk white pillow and sniffed his familiar scent as he made long, passionate love to her. His fully aroused penis was inching in and almost out like a man too big for the passage, but that only made him more determined to inch his way further and further inside of her. Because it was so tight and sweet to both of them. Because both of them could feel the sensations every time his dick head rubbed against her walls.

  For a long time his dick stroked her and he made love to her. He was on his knees doing her, and then he laid down on top of her ass doing her, and then he was back on his knees again. He fucked her with a patience that they both knew would not last long, but they both enjoyed just how long it took.

  Until Kari’s vagina began to tighten in ways that she could no longer control, and she began to cum.

  And Alex, unable to control himself, either, when she began to tighten, could hold out no longer either.

  “You’re making . . . me . . . cum, babe,” he kept saying. “You’re making me cum!”

  And Alex came too. He poured into her. He wrapped his arms around her small body and pushed even deeper inside of her. Until he couldn’t push another inch.

  And he laid over onto his back and carried her over with him. She ended up on top of him, with her back against his chest, and he held onto her, with his hand cupping her wet vagina, as if she was his shield. As if her love was his protector.

  A couple hours later and Kari was still on top of Alex, only she had turned over to where her face was on his chest and his hands were cupping her ass. And they both had fallen asleep.

  They remained where they were for another half hour longer, with both of them in perfect contentment and peace.

  Until Seamus was lightly knocking at the door.

  Alex opened his eyes at the sound of the knock. Of the two of them, he was by far the lighter sleeper. Kari was still far gone. “Yes?” he managed to say in a still sleepy voice.

  “The plane has landed, sir,” said Seamus.

  “Thank you,” Alex said to his crew chief, and Seamus left them alone again.

  Alex looked at Kari. She was still sleeping like a baby. If they weren’t already late for their dinner date with the Gabrinis, he would have let her continue to sleep in his big arms. But they were already late.

  “Babe,” he said, still staring at her pretty face. “Babe?”

  Kari slowly began to stir awake, and then she began to open her eyes too. When she saw Alex’s beautiful face, she smiled.

  “Looks like we made it,” he said.

  But Kari cuddled against him. “I could stay in your arms forever,” she said.

  “That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” said Alex. And then he got out of bed with her still in his arms, and carried her to the shower.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Selinda Clarke flung open the double doors of the office and hurried up to the desk. She threw a folder onto it. The man behind the desk was turned toward the window, on the telephone, looking out at their beautiful island nation through the wall-sized windows.

  “Who’s he talking to?” Selinda asked Maurice, her nephew, who was also in the office.

  “Distributors,” Maurice said.

  Selinda knew what distributors meant. They were in the sugar cane export business on the island, although the only thing they were exporting were drugs. But to the outside world, they were legit.

  When the phone call ended, and the man behind the desk swirled around in his swivel chair, he looked at his mother dismissively. “Not again.”

  “This is important, boy!” his mother said. “Open that folder. There’s money in it.”

  “Why are you always disturbing me with all of your bullshit get-rich-quick schemes? I have work to do, woman!”

  “This is important!” Selinda insisted. “Look at it.”

  Dajalla Clarke, her thirty-two year old son and the operator of all of her business interests, grabbed the folder, leaned back in his chair, and opened it.

  As he perused the contents, Selinda looked at him with a combination of admiration, contempt, and fear in her eyes. Before the accident fifteen years ago, he was her seventeen year old best boy, the son who was her hope and glory. He would be the one to show them how to take their ill-gotten cash and turn it into a legitimate enterprise.

  But after the accident, and because he had profound memory loss, she had a chance to remake him into the image of the man she needed at that time: a tough, no-nonsense killer who would not only legitimize them, but protect her as she grew older. He had those instincts in him. She knew that all along. With his memory loss, she had the opportunity to make him know it too.

  Now he knew it better than anybody on earth. Because she created a monster. But also a very clever, feared man.

  Dajalla frowned. “Where did you get this?”

  “That’s the girl, right? Kari Grant?”

  Dajalla was staring at the photo. “That’s her, yes. And that’s apparently Jordan. But how did you get this paperwork?”

  “After I discovered that it was true, and that she had, in fact, married a billionaire, I got some people to do some digging. Just to see what they could find. They found that.”

  Dajalla looked up at her. “I just see lots of figures.”

  “And a contract.”

  “With no signatures nor stipulations,” Dajalla said.

  “Exactly right,” said Selinda.

  “But what does any of this have to do with us?”

  His mother smiled. “He didn’t make her sign a prenup,” she said.

  “So?” asked Dajalla, as Maurice stood up and walked over to the desk.

  “So,” said Selinda, “you win her heart again, get her to divorce her husband, and you will own fifty percent of a billionaire’s stake, Dajalla. A billionaire’s stake!”

  Dajalla, shocked and excited, stopped leaning his chair back and sat it upright. “Are you certain of all of this, Mother?”

  “Look for yourself,” Selinda said, happy to see that he finally understood the implications. “I’m certain.”

  “I’ll be damn,” said Dajalla, still staring at the folder contents.

  “He adopted your son,” Selinda continued. “Your biological son is his heir too. You can reclaim him because you were incapacitated at the time of the adoption. You suffered profound memory loss.”

  “But he regained his memory ten years ago,” said Maurice. “What are you talking about, Aunt? And by that time he was no longer the sweet DayVon that girl fell in love with. He was the ruthless Dajalla with babies all over this island, and women too. A man who held no interest whatsoever in Kari Grant or in his son. You remade him in your image.”

  A sadness appeared in Selinda’s eyes as she still pined for the boy Dajalla used to be, but it was fleeting sadness. He simply became who he already was, but had been shielded from becoming. “I remade him into a man strong enough to keep our family afloat. Without Dajalla, we would have been consumed by our rivals. That’s why he was shot and nearly killed in the first place, because even they knew what he was worth to this family even as a young man. We had very dangerous rivals. But he made sure we took care of them all. And besides, nobody knows he recovered his memory ten years ago but the family.”

  “But how would he approach her?” Maurice asked.

  “Yes, Mother,” said Dajalla. “How will I explain it?”

  “You saw that magazine that had Kari and her son and her new husband on the cover. And suddenly that picture of Kari became a trigger for you, just like that doctor said something could. And your memory returned. But not ten years ago. You will tell her that your memory returned ten days ago and you had to find your beloved Kari and your biological son if it was the last thing you did.”

  Dajalla smiled, and then grinned. “Genius,” he said. “I like it!”

  “But there’s one problem with your analysis, Aunt,” said a doubtful Maurice.

  “What problem?” asked Selinda, frowning.

&
nbsp; “I thought you declared that boy was no kin to Dajalla,” Maurice reminded her.

  But Selinda was not backing down. “When they were the poor ones, yes, you’d better believe I declared it so. But poverty is a thing of the past for that bitch and her bastard. They wrangled themselves a rich white man. All Dajalla has to do is wrangle them back to him, and their money will come with them.”

  “But how, Aunt, how? That is easier said than done!”

  “But it can be done,” Dajalla said as he looked up. “Easy? No. But it can most definitely be done.”

  “How?” Maurice asked again. “How will you make this girl, who was but sixteen when she assumed you were dead, fall in love with you all over again?”

  “Because that first love is always the strongest love you ever experience,” said Selinda.

  “Because,” said Dajalla, “I will get Kari to fall for me the same way I get all of my ladies to fall for me: I will kill her with kindness. I’m just a sweet, compassionate man who won’t put any pressure on her. I’ll remind her of the nickname I used to call her. I’ll compliment her. I’ll pay her the kind of attention she probably craves because a billionaire lives a life too busy to be attentive to a woman like Kari. But I’ll be attentive to her. She and that boy will fall for me hard.” He nodded his head. “It can be done.”

  “It’s already in the works,” his mother said.

  Dajalla looked at her. “It is?”

  “It is.”

  “For how long, Mother?”

  “Weeks.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Dajalla asked.

  “Not until it was ready. It’s ready. I truly believe it can be done, Dajalla.”

  “And after it’s done?” Maurice asked Dajalla. “After you marry her and reclaim your son, what will you do with them then, cousin?”

  Dajalla frowned as if the answer was obvious. “Dispose of them,” he said, “and inherit all that money for myself. What else?”

  And he said it so easily that it chilled Maurice to the bone. He looked at Selinda, the one who created that monster.

  But she was chilled too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Oz, Jordan noticed, walked into that bar as if he owned the place. The music was jumping and the people were dancing and drinking, and the eyes of many of those women immediately flew to Oz. With his big hat and long hair and that cigar between his fingers, not to mention his big, booming personality, he struck a mighty pose. He and Jordan stood at the bar, and had not even ordered a drink yet, and Oz was already the center of attention.

  One woman, Jordan noticed, was bold enough to approach him. “Hey,” she said. She was a pretty redhead, but too skinny for Jordan’s taste, but she seemed pleasing in Oz’s eyes.

  “Hey,” he said, checking out her body.

  “You come here often?”

  “No. You?”

  “Not often, no.” She pulled out a cigarette. He lit it for her. She looked at Jordan. “Hey.”

  Jordan pushed his glasses on his face. “Hello, ma’am.”

  Oz couldn’t believe it. Jordan was ruining his style! But the woman smiled. “Ma’am?” she asked. “Who’s the kid? Your son?”

  “Yup,” said Oz. He wasn’t about to tell that woman his business.

  “So, you like black chicks, do you?” the woman asked him.

  “I do actually,” said Oz. “And white chicks and Asian chicks and Hispanic chicks and chick chicks.”

  The woman laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it.” She extended her hand. “Patricia is my name,” she said.

  Oz leaned down and kissed her hand. “Oz is mine,” he said.

  They weren’t in Apple Valley. Oz wouldn’t dare take Jordan to a bar in Apple Valley so that it could easily get back to Alex or Kari. They were, instead, in Pensacola, outside of Apple Valley, in a bar so far in the woods that even Jordan was scared getting there. But it was apparently, Jordan realized, a very popular spot.

  “After I use the little girls room,” Patricia said, “care to dance, Oz?”

  Oz smiled. “It’s doable,” he said.

  Patricia smiled and headed for the ladies room. Jordan watched Oz as he stared at Patricia’s ass.

  Then the bartender came to the two of them. “You know we don’t allow kids in here, Oz my man,” he said. Oz was more of a regular customer than he let on to Patricia.

  “He won’t get drunk, I assure you,” said Oz.

  “But if the cops find out, we can lose our license,” the bartender said.

  “Cops? Back in these woods? Give me a break!”

  The bartender smiled. “What are you having this time?”

  “You mean other than Patricia,” Oz said with a grin.

  “Yeah, other than that chick.”

  “A beer will do me,” said Oz.

  “And what about you, kid? The same?”

  But Jordan knew his mother would not approve. Nor Alex for that matter. “A coke,” Jordan said.

  Oz smiled. “You are well raised, my boy,” he said as the bartender went to get their drinks.

  When he returned, Oz took a couple sips of his tall glass of beer, and Jordan sipped a couple sips of his Coke. Then Patricia came out and all three got on the dance floor. Jordan was just kidding around, following his uncle. But the ladies in that place, all of whom were much older than he was, surrounded him like sharks, and began dancing with him. He loved it. He was having the time of his life. Oz was too, as he usually was. But he kept his eyes on the cougars.

  But while they were dancing and enjoying the night, a man walked over to where their drinks sat dormant, and sat on the barstool beside their drinks. Although they didn’t realize it, that man had followed them to the airstrip, and then to the house of this woman Oz went to see while Jordan remained in the car, and then to the bar.

  And as they danced the night away, the man looked to see that the bartender was distracted, and so were those few men around the bar. He then pulled a substance out of his pocket, poured it into Oz’s glass of beer, and then looked around again, to make sure his action hadn’t registered on anybody’s radar. When satisfied that his action was undetected, he left the bar area, but did not leave the establishment.

  He stood back, people-watching, until Oz and Jordan and Patricia made their way back to the bar, and Oz took a big, fat gulp of beer. It would be hours before it kicked in. The timing was everything. But Oz had been at that same bar the night before. And the night before that. He usually stayed for several hours before leaving. The plan depended on Oz sticking to his usual routine.

  But either way, the man’s work was done. He couldn’t change fate. He could only try to tamper with it. He left the premises altogether.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Reno Gabrini looked at his watch again. They were already at the restaurant, and had been seated for over ten minutes. But the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen. “Is this man ever on time for anything?” he asked his wife.

  Trina Gabrini smiled. “He’s a busy person.”

  Reno was offended. “And I’m not?”

  “Yes, you are. I am too. But we aren’t Alex Drakos kind of busy.”

  “Oh, I see,” Reno said, shaking his head, although Trina knew he saw nothing at all. “He’s a billionaire so that makes him better in your eyes.”

  “Boy please!” Trina said dismissively. “You know me better than that.”

  “Then what are you saying over here? He’s busy. What do I care? You’re busy. I’m busy. I’m getting my hotel and casino back up and running on the Vegas Strip. You don’t think that’s busy?”

  “He runs a hotel and casino too, Reno.”

  “But I did that shit first. He’s following in my footsteps. He should be the one waiting for me. I’m here in New York on my own business. He’s the one asked to meet with me, not the other way around. He should have been here before I got here. That’s how I feel about it.”

  Trina rolled her big, hazel eyes. Those Gabrini men and their testosterone
was going to be the death of her yet.

  Then Reno glanced at her. “I remember when that joker was all in love with you,” he said.

  But Trina was not going along with that. “That man was not in love with me,” she said. “He was in lust with me. There’s a difference. And then he met Kari and he wasn’t thinking about me.”

  Reno smiled. “His ass knew better,” he said. “He knew what I was capable of. He wanted to live, that’s why he left your ass alone.”

  “Sure, Reno,” Trina said as if nothing could be further from the truth. “I’m sure that’s the reason.”

  Then Reno perked up. “There they are,” he said. “Finally!”

  Trina looked, too, as Alex and Kari entered the posh New York restaurant. “Nice dress,” Trina said as they watched Kari walk in her skintight white mini.

  “Yeah,” Reno agreed, staring too. “She’s got the body for it, that’s for damn sure.”

  That was Reno’s way. Always checking out the ladies. After all their years of marriage, Trina was used to it now. She was also used to the fact that he came home to her every night, and put no woman above her. He looked, but he didn’t touch.

  He’d better not, Trina thought.

  “Hello, Reno!” Alex said vigorously as Reno and Trina stood on their feet. The two men shook hands vigorously.

  “How are you, old man?” Reno asked.

  “Younger than your ass, old man,” Alex responded.

  “Yeah, right,” Reno said as if Alex was a big-time liar, and the two friends laughed.

  Kari and Trina hugged and laughed too. Reno and Kari also hugged, while Trina and Alex hugged as well. But it wasn’t lost on Kari that Reno took a peep at his wife as she and Alex hugged. Then the two couples sat down facing each other in the booth.

  “You know your ass late,” Reno said to Alex as they sat. “You know that, right?”

  “I know it,” said Alex. “I offer my deepest apologies.”

  Kari knew it was her fault, but she also knew Alex wasn’t about to let her take the blame.

  “It’s so good to see you guys again,” Trina said. “It’s been a minute.”