by T. R. Cupak
“Thank you.” I stand there, pathetic and frightened, looking down at my pedicured toes.
“I will leave you to get ready for Boss. Oh, and Jordan, do not disappoint him. He will not hurt you, and he is not coming here to end your services. That is all I will disclose,” he reiterates what he’s already said before.
“I won’t disappoint him, I promise,” I say as reassuringly as I can. “Oh, and Monte, thank you,” I add before closing the door after Monte steps out.
Well damn, I only have about twenty-five minutes to get off the imaginary ledge I’m standing on and calm my neurotic thoughts. Thank god The Shadow only wants me wearing my blindfold, because I sure as hell don’t think I could do anything more to ready myself. Shit!
The Shadow
While I sit in the backseat of the blacked-out Range Rover staring up at Jordan’s apartment door I find it damn near impossible to reach over, pull the handle, and exit the vehicle. She’s going to fucking hate me. I need to be ready for her reaction; the freak out, the yelling, the harsh hatred that will spew from her luscious lips that I selfishly want wrapped around my cock. Yeah, wishful thinking.
“Boss, are you still planning to see her or shall I go back up to let her know that you had a business situation arise?” Monte asks, his eyes staring me down through the rearview mirror.
“This is a delicate situation. No, this is an incredibly fucked up situation. Tonight, will go one of two ways; either it will go as I want it to, or that precious woman up there is going to hate my fucking guts for lying to her all these years.” Fear is not a feeling I have ever experienced, but right now, here in the backseat of my Range Rover, I’m scared shitless.
The uncomfortable silence between myself and Monte is only adding fuel to the blazing fire and the agitated look I’m getting from Monte tells me he has had enough of my procrastinating and he is seconds away from dragging my pussy ass out of the vehicle, up the stairs, and throwing me into Jordan’s apartment to hash out the shit-storm that is about to take place.
“Fuck me!” I shout, shoving my hands into my hair and then dragging them down my face in frustration. I glance to my right, eyeing the bottle of scotch I bought, knowing damn well I was going to need it. I uncork it, taking two big chugs for liquid courage. Just before corking the bottle, I take one last swig, replace the cork, and put the bottle back into the door pocket.
After a few seconds of mental preparation, finally finding my balls again, and just as I am about to exit the Rover, Monte locks the doors.
“What the fuck, Monte?” I lash out, hitting the headrest of the seat in front of me like a two-year old throwing a fit.
“Hunter, I know what you are about to do. I also know what you are about to propose. I’ve been around this family, more accurately you, long enough to know what’s spinning in that head of yours. I see the darkness in your eyes and the desperate need for revenge seeping through your custom-tailored suit, but that girl up there is unstable. She will completely unravel once you reveal who you are. She may lose it to the point of no return. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want to risk her life?”
Well holy fuck. Monte’s confession blindsided me, but what unnerved me was the question he asked.
“First of all, since my father’s death, when have you ever referred to me as Hunter? Secondly, who in the fuck do you think you are, telling me what I should or should not do? Lastly, you work for me, remember?” My temper has gone from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye and going into the lioness’ den pissed off isn’t going to help me. I need patience to win her trust in effort to carry out the vengeance she deserves while selfishly feed into my own darkness.
“Hunter,” Monte says my name mockingly just to antagonize me, “you are a good man with good intentions, albeit dark and fucked up. Yes, I do work for you and I will assist in whatever capacity you need me to, but Miss Smith is in no frame of mind to accept your proposition, even if you weren’t connected to one of her attackers, let alone being the son of one. You throw in the years of lying you will have to overcome and you may never get the chance to be with her again,” he adds the last bit in effort to stop me. I don’t care. My mind is made up. I am just buzzed enough for the fight of my life.
“I hear you, but this is happening. If you truly mean what you said about assisting in any capacity, then I will hold you to that when the time comes, because we will need you and your connections. Oh, and Monte, it’s Boss, not Hunter,” I caution him once more as I unlock the back door, swinging it open, and slamming it shut before he has the chance to say another word.
I didn’t realize how much Monte knew. He knows way more than I wanted him to at this point of time, but I couldn’t continue to sit there and hash out our differences in this dead-end conversation. All he has done is thrown me off my game, and there was no way I was going to let him know it or see it, that’s why I’m walking away with a sense of urgency. I reach the stairs leading up to Jordan’s apartment, trying not to let Monte’s words get to me, but they were loud and clear. I need to get this plan rolling; this lie off of my chest, and the first step is going to take time, because let’s face it, Jordan is going to go ballistic. Thankfully my trustworthy private physician up north provided me with a couple of syringes before I came down to southern California, each filled with a few doses of a sedative, that I have stashed away in my inner pocket of the suit jacket I am wearing.
I have witnessed Jordan’s freak-outs before so I know first-hand what I am up against and I wanted to come prepared. Now I just need to pray to the medicine gods that her addiction won’t make her immune to the drug, or god forbid cause her to overdose. I don’t have time for her to hyperventilate and pass out. I needed her conscious but calm.
Here I stand staring at the dingy blue door with the paint peeling at the edges and the rusty number seven is slightly askew. This door is all that separates me from my Precious. Taking a few deep breaths, I knock lightly on the hollow sounding door, waiting to hear that sweet sexy voice say “come in”, but instead I get silence. I knock a little louder the second time, hoping she didn’t hear the first knock. Relief washes over me when I hear her faint voice, clear with reservations, say “come in”. Without further hesitation, I enter her apartment.
Fuck me. She literally takes my breath away. Her beautifully naked body sits perfectly on her love seat, on display specifically for me, with her blindfold properly in place, rendering me speechless. I quickly close and latch the door in case nosey onlookers pass by. I don’t want anyone, not even my two buddies who fuck Jordan regularly, to ever see her naked body again. In my twisted mind, she is already mine, and mine alone.
“Please say something,” her shaky voice giving away her unease.
“You are absolutely stunning, Jordan.” I try to keep my own nerves from coming out, but I’m afraid I failed.
I watch her breasts rise and fall a couple of times while she takes in deep breaths before finding her voice again, “Are you here to tell me my services are no longer needed, because if you are, please do this quickly. I have already mentally pre—”
“Stop,” I bark out more as a command than I intended it to be. She immediately quiets, her body goes rigid, and I can see the tension in her facial features along her tightened jawline. Just fucking wonderful; now I have scared her.
“Jordan, I can assure you that I am not here to end things.” That was the truth and I was able to deliver the statement more smoothly than the one I used to stop her rambling.
Her slender frame begins to relax, and her perfect, soft pink, pouty lips open just enough to catch her breath at the confirmation she was longing for. The tip of her tongue glides along her lips jolting my dick to life as if seeing her naked didn’t have the blood already flowing to the one-eyed monster that seems to have a mind of his own. Knowing what those succulent lips and that expert tongue feels like when my cock is balls deep in her mouth, causes me to forget the reason I’m here, in her small apartment.
“Stand, Precious.” She gracefully stands, turning towards my voice, giving me one of the most amazing views a man could ever hope to see.
I remove my suit jacket, throwing it onto the breakfast bar, and then take three decent steps to reach her. I gently cup her face with both hands and lean down, lightly pressing my lips to hers. Like always, her hands grip my biceps to steady herself. My ego has filled the space we are in knowing that my simple kiss makes her weak in the knees.
“My Precious,” I whisper next to her ear, placing feather light kisses down her neck before I greedily stake claim on her mouth once again. Our tongues glide effortlessly together like an ice skating duo gliding across the ice in a rhythmic dance of love. My hands tangle into her hair at the nape of her neck, keeping her right where I want her, with me, in this moment. Her hands fist my dress shirt, pulling me closer, like she can’t get enough of me.
She breaks away long enough to say, “I want you, now,” before her hands bring my lips back to hers. Who am I to deny us both? I pick her up, cradling her to my chest, never breaking our connection as I make my way down the short, narrow hallway to her bedroom. I set her down on the edge of her bed and throw the duffle bag to the floor.
“Wait,” she says, stopping me dead in my tracks. Fuck. Is she having reservations about this? About us? Before my mind could start running rampant as to why she asked me to wait, her soft voice tells me she wants to undress me, slowly. This woman is going to torture me with the slow shit, but I will give this to her. She deserves to get whatever her heart desires, especially after what I did last night and the meltdown that took place after.
Jordan stands slowly, reaching out until her hands find my chest; they slowly slide up my shirt to find my tie. She loosens and discards it quickly. She begins the slow, agonizing decent back down the shirt, her nimble fingers working each of my buttons until she reaches the last one. Jordan’s hands return up to my shoulders, massaging some of the tension out of them. I can’t help the subtle moan that gets away. Her hands work to remove my shirt, sliding the fabric off of my shoulders and down my arms, quickly realizing she forgot to unhook the cufflinks.
“Shit, I forgot about those,” she giggles out.
“I’ll take care of the cufflinks for you, love. They’re a little tricky, even for someone who can see,” I explain.
“Ok, but then I get to finish undressing you, do you understand?” She says it in a way that is meant to be authoritative but it’s sounded too cute to be commanding.
“Whatever you say,” I offer as a surrender. I kick off my shoes knowing those will need to come off before she can remove my slacks. I have to fight back the chuckle that is building inside me when I look down to see the little smirk she has thinking she got her way because she demanded it, not because I wanted to give it to her.
I don’t waste any time unfastening the cufflinks and placing them on the refurbished dresser that has definitely seen better days. I take a moment to look around her room, and although there a few things strewn about, it’s tidy. Everything looks second hand which guts me. It’s a reminder that she was a girl who came from money until the rug got pulled out from under her. In that instant realization, my stomach drops into a pit of guilt. I’m not the one who should feel guilty, but I do. I feel guilty for lying to her, but I try to rationalize that I’m going to fix the wrong doing of my father and the other three assholes.
She will forgive me. She has to forgive me.
Jordan brings my attention back to her and what we were in the middle of doing before my mind began to wander when her hands find my belt, undoing it with a much faster pace. I guess she’s done taking it slow. She wastes no time unbuttoning my slacks and dropping to her knees, taking my pants and boxers down to the floor with her.
“Step out.” Her command stimulates every one of my senses with the tone of the vixen I hoped to hear earlier instead of the frightened voice I was greeted with. “Now sit on the bed,” she continues her bossy ways.
I promptly do as I am told. The bed makes a godawful creaking sound from the weight of my body and my attention is immediately drawn to spring that is poking my left ass cheek. Jordan doesn’t even pause from the noise of her bed. She hooks her fingers into my dress socks, removing them, and tossing them aside. Jordan knows her way around my body like no one else ever has. She takes her time using her fingertips then switching to the palms of her hands while she glides them over my thighs. I can tell she is listening for every sound that comes from my mouth, making a mental note of what I like for the next time. With no sight, she has become the maestro of my body, owning me with her soft touch, insatiable mouth, and a pussy that feels like a tight silk glove encasing my cock. The woman always leaves me wanting more every fucking time.
That’s just it, I always want more. One night a month is never enough, but it’s all I can do for now. Well, that is until later tonight, when I finally remove her blindfold, and allowing Jordan, my Precious, to see me for the first time. Monte’s words still resonate in my brain, but I have to reveal who I am, what my intentions are, all while reassuring her that I want her to be my mine, and only mine, forever; and pray to whatever god that will listen that she won’t fucking hate me after tonight is over.
Chapter Four
Jordan
I have The Shadow right where I want him, albeit he’s sitting on my squeaky bed which isn’t anything like the luxurious beds he’s accustom to, but it will do. I know I am in the perfect position to take his cock into my mouth, so without yielding, I position myself over him; gripping his member with both hands, and swallowing him all the way down to the base. I usually take the time to tease him a little, but I wasn’t going to chance him changing his mind about me. I’m on a mission to remind him of why he keeps coming back for more.
“Oh, fuck, Jordan,” The Shadow’s voice is a ragged sound of pleasure. His hands tangle into my hair, clutching so tightly that it feels like he could scalp me. Hell, I wouldn’t care if he did as long as it meant I got to keep our once a month rendezvouses.
“That’s it Precious, hoover my dick,” his words encouraging me to continue the assaulting pace I started with. His heavy breathing muffles the sounds of slurping from my mouth suctioning his thick shaft and the angry springs of my bed. I’m in tune to him and only him.
“Precious, stop.” I halt mid-shaft, and then slowly come up for the air I didn’t realize I needed.
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I can’t hide my uneasy feeling.
“God, no. I didn’t want to come,” The Shadow’s voice is kind and reassuring. “Although, you do have a coil poking me in the ass,” he says with a chuckle.
Mortified, I begin to scoot back from between his legs, and before my bed could give me any warning I am picked up from the floor and flung onto the unforgiving beast that is my bed. The Shadow immediately blankets me with his warm body and kisses me hard. Once he realizes that I’m not going to try and get up he lightens the pressure without ever releasing my lips. This kiss isn’t like any other kiss I’ve had before. It’s passionate and sensual. The way he rolls his tongue against mine is borderline kinky. I have felt him do this maneuver on my clit plenty of times, but never in a kiss. I swear if I wasn’t lying down I would be pooled on the ground at his feet.
“Precious?” He says my nickname as a question, so of course I’m curious of what he possibly needs to ask right now. Hell, he could ask me to give him the moon on a silver platter and I would do my damnedest to deliver upon his request.
“Hmm?” I answer with my own question.
“Don’t freak out,” and before he can say anything else my body goes rigid and I can’t stop the crocodile tears from soaking my blindfold.
“Hey,” he says soothingly, “don’t go cold on me now.” The words were meant to comfort me but they did nothing of the
sort.
Before I can push him away his body lifts slightly away from mine, and his hands rest against the sides of my face. Again, without any warning as to what his next move would be, he removes my blindfold, catching me completely off guard. Of all the nights for him to do this, he chooses the one night I don’t bother with eye make-up because I was too caught up in my crazy.
“Wow, those are some stunning blue eyes you have, Miss Smith.” His sweet compliment is followed by his thumbs swiping away the tears from under my eyes.
Fuck! And of all the nights I don’t put my contacts in. Can this get any worse?
“I, um…I-I—” fucking forgot how to speak. Words J, words. You know them. Fucking use them. I silently berate myself with my “inside” voice not completely comprehending that I am finally eye to eye with the man I call The Shadow.
“Am I not what you hoped for?” he asks, brows furrowed and concern blazing in his own baby blues.
Is he not what I hoped for? He’s a fucking God. After all of these years of conjuring up my own picture of him in my mind based off touch and voice alone, I didn’t do this man justice. I am mesmerized by his beauty and I still haven’t said a goddamn word.
“You’re beautiful,” I finally manage to squeak out.
“And you’re not Sloth,” he teases back. I can’t help the blush that washes over my whole body. “It’s been a long time coming, Jordan. I didn’t want to remain a faceless man you occasionally have sex with.”
“Ok,” I stammer out. If we didn’t already have numerous nights of talking, I’m pretty sure he would think I was some kind of dummy who can’t string multiple words together to form a cohesive sentence.
“I’m Hunter,” he casually introduces himself; like if we were lying here clothed instead of stark naked.