by Olivia Harp
“Fuck me!” She yelled, “Fuck me, please!”
His cockhead grazed her entrance and she was suddenly bathed with lust again. Instead of trying to push him away because of how sensitive her whole body felt, she needed him inside. She needed to feel him in this state.
A bright flash of pain steeled her muscles for a moment. He was inside. He was big. Too big. She’d never get used to that. She loved it. Everything that he was, it was hers.
His cock slid deeper inside, and suddenly the pain faded —or fused— with pleasure and she found herself moaning again.
“It’s too big,” she yelled, “too big—”
“Do you want me to pull it out?” He dared her.
“No.”
“Say you love it.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I love it,” she said, barely able to concentrate, “I fucking love it.”
He was fully inside of her now, her hands went around his back, embracing him. She could feel every muscle, every ridge on his body, she knew all of his moles, all of the ridges in his arms and back and torso… he belonged to her.
She buried her nails on his skin. He pushed forward, his waist touching her bottom, his cock so deep inside she felt his sack graze her slit.
He grabbed a leg and pulled it up, she was completely open for him, feeling him deeper than ever. She couldn’t utter a sound, her words got caught up in her throat, she was lost, her focus gone, she and Remy were one. She was addicted to this feeling.
He put his forehead against hers and growled, his face half an inch away. They didn’t kiss, just looked at each other.
His eyes. His beautiful, deep green eyes. He trembled and his whole body steeled.
She held him tighter, straddling him, wanting him to fill her completely.
There it was. It was like going in slow motion.
The warm feeling of his seed inside of her, the way he breathed out and moaned, pressing harder against her waist. Sliding in and out, in and out, bringing her closer and closer to the edge again, feeling her own juices dripping down on her center and over her blankets.
“I love you,” he whispered, and her whole world came crashing down.
Her heart thudded hard inside her chest, racing. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. She was done. She was scared and confused and feeling his cock inside of her as he uttered those words turned her into a wild beast.
“I love you,” she answered back.”
A wave of pleasure broke out from her center throughout her body, like a cold shower instantly turned warm and delicious, their yelling loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
And it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but them. Remy.
“I love you,” she said, as delight faded into the background, and reality sank in.
He said he loved her, and she said it back.
Did he really mean it? Or was it just the heat of the moment? She bit her lip, a bit scared of what just happened.
Saying it out loud came out naturally.
Remy lay next to her, looking up, to the ceiling, still breathing hard.
Silence followed. She had to go.
Chapter 29
Remy
There it was, out in the open. He said the words, and she said them too.
Maybe it wasn’t the best moment—.
Fuck it. He wanted to. He wasn’t going to hold back. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t a child.
She put her clothes on in silence, smiling, commenting on the time, pretending to be cool. But she wasn’t fooling him.
He put his clothes on, too. It was time to go, but he waited for her to finish.
She took out a hair-dryer, there was no way she was going out with damp hair, not in this weather, she wouldn’t risk her health again, especially after she confirmed she was going to the gala tonight.
“I meant what I said,” he told her.
“What?”
“I love you.”
She stopped. The hair dryer still on, loud and annoying. She stared at him through the mirror.
Then she smiled and kept on drying her hair.
“You’re not gonna say anything?”
She swallowed and turned the hairdryer off, took a deep breath and turned to him.
“Sorry,” she said, “I just don’t know how to react.”
Her eyes began to well. She was vulnerable, exposed. He wanted to take care of her for the rest of his life. He wanted to be by her side, to hold her when she felt like this.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, pulling her to him, trying to comfort her.
“Remy, I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“My family killed your uncle, isn’t that enough? Your father will never accept this.”
“He’ll have to. If he wants to keep the family together.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll walk away from everything if it means keeping you with me.”
She pressed her lips and hugged him.
“No,” she whispered, “we’ll make it work.”
“Don’t be scared. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You love YouTube?”
“What? No!” She said, breaking out in laughter, her tears gone.
“I’m kidding. I just want you to say it again.”
She was smiling now, seeing her like that made him feel like their future was bright. He would deal with the problem, one way or the other. He would no longer hide.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Julie said and he stood up, ready to leave.
“See you at five?”
Her eyes were bright and full of hope. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“See you at five, love.”
He followed her out, said goodbye and hopped in his car.
He wanted to jump and scream and just break out laughing. Hearing those words come out of her lips was almost too much for him. It was like Christmas morning when he was eight years old, only a million times better.
Yeah, he felt kind of like an idiot. A cheesy guy, happy because he had found the love of his life.
A complete fucking idiot.
And he loved it.
Chapter 30
Remy
First things first. Shower. Breakfast. Set up appointments for haircut and try to find a place to buy a tuxedo with so little time left.
It’s gonna be fine.
Of course it was. He knew the owner at Rudd’s, one of Chicago’s premiere suit rental places.
He called him and it was settled, he’d go there at nine and by two they would have it tailored for him. It would cost him and arm and a leg but he didn’t have to worry about that, so he bought peace of mind, too.
He was on a roll. Everything was going positively perfect.
One thing in his mind, though. Tonight I tell Mr. Crawford who I am. No more hiding.
After choosing his tux, he went straight to his house. It was ten thirty now. What was he going to do all day?
His phone buzzed. He took it out and saw there was a text message in it. His father.
“Don’t forget to bring wine.”
Shit.
He forgot. He checked his cell phone, yeah, it was today. God damn it.
They had this tradition. Every first Saturday of the month the family got together for lunch. It used to be dinner but someone always had something going on so they changed it.
It was at two. He’d pick up his tux and eat, then leave just in time for the gala. Easy shit.
Thunder rolled in the sky and the drizzle turned into a soft pour. In the distance, dark clouds gathered, a storm was coming.
He shrugged.
“No more hiding, whatever it takes.”
***
Rain poured hard. He turned into their parent’s front garden and found his spot occupied by Conner.
It was really his own fault for being late.
He grabbed his umbrella, the plastic bag with
the groceries —and wine— they asked him to bring, and the tuxedo inside the bag.
He looked up on the windshield to see if the weather was getting better but come on, this was Chicago. It wouldn’t get better.
He opened the door and ran to the house.
“Hey!” His mother said once he was in, then kissed him on the cheek, “I thought you weren’t coming.”
The delicious smell of homemade pizza and pasta filled the house. His stomach grumbled audibly, his mouth watering in an instant.
“Sorry, mom. Traffic.”
“What’s that?”
She pointed at the bag protecting the tux.
“Bought a tuxedo, I’m going to a gala later on today.”
He didn’t want to dabble too much into it, so he passed beside her into the living room. The big window on the back of the house let plenty of light in.
Afternoons like this made him remember the old days, when he was still a kid. Easier times. His father was almost never around, unlike today.
He retired from the day-to-day operations of the business, but he was still the head of the organization.
“Where’s dad?” He asked.
“Talking to your brother, upstairs.”
“Have they been there for a while?”
“Like half an hour or so.”
Another thunder rolled, deeper this time.
“Oh my,” his mother yelled, “this is getting bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“The storm, honey. It’s going to be a bad one.”
He walked upstairs, to the hall. He hears the muffled voices of his father and brother, talking to his left, inside the office. Before he went inside, he hung the tux on a perch in his old room.
The office door suddenly opened, and his brother walked out with his hands in the air, frustration overcoming him.
“So that’s it, we hold back.”
“That’s what I said,” Ed said behind him.
“They’re getting stronger and stronger and we sit down and wait for them to come take us out?”
“Conner, don’t be naive. We wait for the opportunity to strike, we don’t fight it out, guns blazing. That’ll make the feds turn their eyes on us.”
Remy stared at them in silence. Conner sighed and then saw him.
“What the fu—?”
He turned to his father, shutting up before he finished the sentence, then back at Remy.
“You’re a ninja now?”
Remy smiled.
“You’re getting old, that’s all.”
“What’s up little brother. You missed the meeting.”
“He missed nothing,” his father said, “you’ve taken too long to act, son. It’s been months.”
“Our shipments are getting fu—” he stopped again, “delayed. The Crawford’s are using their influence to get them checked on the interstate. No weapons or substance coming in for another week.”
“What’s the news boy?” His father asked, “Conner here wants us to go on an all-out war.”
“Just show them what we got,” Conner said, “let them know who they’re messing with.”
“You need to be smarter, son,” his father replied, “you can shoot gangbangers on every corner in Chicago and it wouldn’t make a dent in their business.”
“So what are you saying? We go for—”
“We let them get comfortable. We let them lower their guards, then take off their heads.”
Conner smiled, taking it in, then began to nod.
“Shit, dad. You’re ruthless.”
“Watch your mouth, this is still your mother’s house.”
“They’re powerful,” Remy interrupted, before his brother could apologize.
His father and brother stared at him.
“They’ve been moving big shipments. Truckloads of them. They have contacts in the police. Probably someone even higher up in the government. And their people are trained.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’ve been doing some research.”
“So we have to move fast,” his brother said.
“Our main source of income is dope. But it’s becoming problematic.”
“So what are you saying?” His father asked, “You want to take them out now?”
“I’m saying it’s a miracle they haven’t come take us out. We should be thankful.”
Edward Morgan, head of the organization, squared up, fire spitting from his eyes, his fists balled so hard the knuckles were white.
“We should be—”
“We got comfortable. We lowered our guards. Now they’re here to stay.”
“You’re insane,” his brother spat.
“The amount of money they launder is ten times ours. That’s per month. They have us by the balls. They know we can’t do shit.”
Silence. The empty fury of his father stared at him.
“How do you know this.”
“I just told you.”
“How the fuck do you know how much money they move?”
Remy didn’t reply. Julie had a loose tongue, and talking about how much money the art pieces were worth during all the time they were together let him complete the puzzle. They were powerful. Very powerful.
The Crawford’s bought and sold art through intermediaries, creating a false demand that let them move the pieces at high prices.
“I’ve heard things. They move all kinds of stuff now. Including weapons. In and out of the country. Chicago is just a hub for them.”
“We still have the territory,” his father spat, “we need to move fast then.”
“And do what? Try to kill them? You just said you didn’t want to start a war.”
“We kill Charles, once and for all.”
“Is it worth it to you to risk the entire organization for a personal vendetta?”
His father gritted his teeth.
“That’s what you think this is?”
“We’re doing well. We have the territory. Chicago is still ours. We can make a deal. It benefits us all.”
“A deal? Are you out of your mind?”
“Are you willing to kill us all because—”
“Because they killed my brother!”
“He was doing what you’re trying to do now!”
His father went silent, his face tense, his eyes bulging. It was dangerous to talk now, but Remy didn’t care. He needed to say it.
“Uncle Richie tried to bite more than he could chew. He broke the truce back then. You think we don’t know that? Do you think we’re stupid? If he wasn’t your brother you would’ve gotten over it the second it happened.”
“Gotten over it?”
His father stepped forward. Was he going to hit him? Remy squared up, but kept his guard down. He could take a few punches from the old man. But he needed to hear the truth first.
“It was a mistake that cost him his life. They did what we would have done. It was business.”
Ed raised his fist, blind with rage.
“Guys,” Claire said from the first floor, and everyone looked to the stairs, tension still high in the air, “come down, food’s ready.”
His brother talked first, trying to ease the mood.
“Who told you that? Is he reliable?”
They couldn’t understand how the world worked today. They were stuck in the old ways, that’s why they had to deal with this problem in the first place.
That made them weak.
But at the same time, he wouldn’t have met Julie if it wasn’t for their mistakes.
I’m the one who should be thankful.
“You hear all kinds of things down on the docks, you would know if you hung out with the people there. But you’re too good for that.”
A thunder cracked in the distance, rain began to pour harder, rattling the windows.
“Come down boys,” his mother yelled from the first floor, “the food is getting cold.”
No one spoke. The tree of them looked at each other like ri
vals.
His father clicked his tongue, “let’s go downstairs, sons, don’t make your mother wait.”
Remy could finally breathe. His father was stubborn, but not stupid. That’s part of what made him who he was right now.
Other people would have said he was implacable. But it takes your own kind to see the bad side of it. He bit his lip. He should have given him a break. But shit needed to be said.
God knows if someone killed Conner, he’d be angry, too. But would he be able to forgive?
Was his father willing to?
He knew right then the answer was no.
He wanted blood. Things would have to end in tragedy for him to be at peace.
Maybe, with time, he would understand.
Remy walked the stairs down to the dining room. They sat in silence. Nothing else needed to be said.
***
The rest of the afternoon was pretending nothing had been said. Claire, his mother, knew something was up, and Remy was sure she heard the worst parts of the discussion, but she was a conciliator at heart.
She talked about food and the family, told stories about them, when they were kids, about how they’ve had it rough but always came out on top.
In short, she defused the situation, making them focus on the things that mattered. They would come back to talk about the issue, but the tempers had been tamed.
“Are you showering here, son?” She asked.
“Yes. No time to go back home with all this traffic.”
“Where are you going?” Conner asked.
“A gala on the Hillside Winery, had to buy a tux.”
His father stared at him, but didn’t say a word.
“Damn,” his brother continued, “I haven’t wore a tuxedo in a long time. You going with Mark?”
He hesitated.
“He’s going with a girl,” his mom said.
Remy tensed up.
“How do you—”
“Son, I know everything,” she interrupted, “and you should see yourself.”
“I should see myself?”
“You’ve been distracted, happier, less moody,” she replied, “not that I’m complaining, of course.”
“So,” Conner said, “my brother is finally getting married?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Is it serious?”
He shrugged.
Everyone was looking at him, completely interested.