by Keta Kendric
“Okay,” I relented. “I’m calm. Now put me down.” You fucking gargantuan asshole.
“I heard that,” he said. “You’re cursing me out in your head.”
“Let me the fuck down. Right fucking now,” I seethed, my words sliding out as a harsh whisper. “How was that, you jackass?”
The motherfucker started whistling, perfectly fine, standing there with me across his shoulder. The idea that my weight wasn’t of any consequence to his strength lingered in my head and had me thinking about his muscles and his strong body.
Priorities, I reminded myself. I was supposed to be searching the room for something to bash his damn head in with.
“I’m letting you down, Mecca. Don’t fight me because you won’t win.”
His warning had gone in one ear, and died, attempting to penetrate my brain. I had blown that shit out like a cloud of weed smoke. I didn’t care about him being part-giant, I wanted to expel my rage on him anyway.
He eased me down, turning me off his shoulder so that his big hand was at the center of my back, and his other arm was slung under the backs of my thighs. My butt brushed the mattress before my feet touched the floor.
He placed his hands to the outside of my thighs, caging me with his arms, and remained leaning over me while I sat, glaring up at him. I had every intention of following the direction of my rage, except his fucking eyes held me prisoner. Were his eyes blue or gray? It was hard to tell with the canvas of lies he had painted over them and was preparing to feed me.
“Please accept my apology, Mecca. I didn’t mean to upset you like that. It was wrong of me to assume you would be accepting of me with another woman.”
He shrugged and a hint of pity flashed in his eyes.
“If it’s of any consequence, you don’t seem to want me.”
All my fucking rage evaporated at those words and was replaced by the deep frown of confusion that marred my forehead. I didn’t want him, did I? I continued to frown up at him while silently attempting to figure out my intentions with him.
He appeared genuinely hurt by the lack of interest I had shown him since our wedding day. The silence stretched on for a few agonizingly long seconds. This shit was as stressful as dealing with the street drama. I shoved his bulky arm to move him back and away from me.
“You were wrong to assume. The day I met you, I told you that I wasn’t going to be second in your life again. You remember that?”
He nodded, his face strained, his eyes searching mine. He appeared as confused about us as I was. He reached out, and I flinched away from his hand.
“You don’t even want me touching you. You hardly come home, and when you do, the bed is cold because you turn your back and slide as far away from me as you can.”
He was right, but I needed time to adjust. I wasn’t like the sluts he was used to dealing with.
“I’m a man, Mecca. I have needs. You’re my wife, my beautiful, lovely wife who I happen to be very attracted to. What else am I supposed to do if you don’t want me?”
His words were fucking with me. He was telling me that I was beautiful, and that he was attracted to me. I knew as much, but hearing him speak it out loud set a dynamic that I wasn’t sure I was prepared for.
“You’re supposed to wait,” I replied before lifting my gaze to meet his.
“You’re supposed to give me time to process this situation,” I added, realizing that I was telling him that we would be more than a business arrangement.
A smile crept onto his lips before it filled his handsome face. He nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Wait, that was it? He wasn’t going to argue, turn things around, and make the situation my fault? Instead, he took my hand.
“In the meantime, wife, what am I supposed to do about this?”
He had distracted me with his gaze before placing my hand on his hard dick. Jesus. Was that all him in those pants?
Now that I was paying attention, I could clearly see his dick print. I took my time, getting me a good feel, before I acted offended and snatched my hand back.
“What am I supposed to do while I wait for you?” he asked again. I was getting turned on seeing how hard and big he was. I stopped my teeth from biting into my lip before I glared up and found his teasing eyes. He knew what he was doing by placing my hand on his dick.
“You use your fucking hands,” I told him, giving him the answer his arrogant ass wasn’t expecting.
“Okay,” he said before he proceeded to undo his belt and unzip his pants. My quick shove moved his solid body a hair.
“Get your ass out of here, Arjen. I know you’re not about to do it in front of me.”
“Where else am I supposed to do it?” He had the nerve to appear hurt.
I gripped my forehead before squeezing my eyes tightly. This man was giving me a fucking aneurysm, acting brand new. He knew damn well I wasn’t going to stand there and watch him jack off. I pointed a demanding finger at our bathroom, my arm straight and stiff.
There wasn’t shit I could do for him even if I wanted to because Mother Nature had my pussy temporarily out of commission, and he had pissed me off too bad for me to put my mouth on him.
He glanced back on his way to the bathroom. Once he was inside, I could hear his pants drop, but he didn’t shut the door. I shook my head, not knowing how much more of his antics I could take.
He was going to make me shut that damn door, or I would be forced to stand there until he finished himself. Thankfully, I was at his back which allowed my gaze to focus on the pants pooled around his ankles. The tail of his shirt covered most of his firm ass. I ambled to the door and found he was already working himself over, his hand moving in front of him.
It wasn’t until I glanced up at his reflection in the mirror that I noticed his eyes zeroed in on me. When I dropped my gaze, I caught the first view of his dick that made my damn throat go dry. He stroked it from root to tip as his tongue brushed across his lips, and his devious eyes shot raw lust in my direction.
I’m not sure where I found the strength, but I shut the damn door before I gave in to the temptation he was keenly aware he projected. If Mother Nature didn’t have a hurricane and an earthquake wreaking havoc on my damn uterus, who knows how this night would have turned out.
I had insisted Arjen wait, but I was sure it wasn’t going to be a long one, especially not after I had seen what he was packing.
Was there such a thing as a White Chocolate Mandingo?
12
Mecca
Somehow, the sound of my phone managed to break through the muffled moans and groans of my husband’s bathroom sideshow. I picked up after seeing it was Desiree.
“You okay?” I answered.
“Hello to you too, and yes, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” Desiree asked, giggling.
“I’m checking because these damn big ass men we married may decide to eat us alive.”
She was full-on laughing now.
“I was actually calling to check on you and to let you know that Ray Junior is better. They want to keep him for a few more days,” she said. She was taking turns with his girlfriend, staying at the hospital.
“I’m glad he’s better because I promised him an ass whipping after he’s recovered.”
“And I’ll be standing there coaching your technique because he needs one. Now, back to you, how are you, really?
“I’m…” I couldn’t lie because she could usually tell when I did. Her calling me on the cusp of the incident that had just gone down in my household wasn’t a coincidence. Sometimes it was like we could tell when shit was going down with each other.
“I assumed I was ready for marriage, but I’m starting to understand why married women drink so much wine.”
“What happened, Mecca? Arjen didn’t do anything crazy, did he? And, what’s that sound I keep hearing? Are you watching porn or something?”
“I came home to my husband and found him with a little playmate up in this
damn house, giving him a massage. I dragged the bitch off of him and halfway down the stairs before he could stop me. He thought I didn’t want him, so he figured I wouldn’t have minded.”
“Oh my God, Mecca! You didn’t hurt her, did you? What about him? Where’s he? Is that him groaning in the background? Is he hurt? I’m putting on my shoes and coming over?”
“Des, please stay put. The situation is over. The woman got her ass out of here, and that crazy ass husband of mine is in the bathroom, jacking himself off.”
“What!” Desiree yelled into the phone.
“You heard me. Talking about how he has needs. He was acting like he would die if he didn’t get some sex in his system. His spoiled ass needs to walk a mile in my shoes. The underwhelming sex, left wound-up tighter than a wristwatch with no relief in sight, picking and choosing from the worst of the worst. And some of the time, can’t get turned on because I’m not even attracted to the fool I was desperate enough to choose.”
“I’m sorry, Mecca,” Desiree offered.
Had it been a month ago, she would have been in full agreement with me because we had both been unlucky in the man department. I continued my venting, knowing my cousin would listen and not judge.
“He had the nerve to ask me what he was supposed to do for sex if he couldn’t have other women, and I wasn’t giving it to him. I told him to use his fucking hands until I was ready.”
“No, you didn’t,” she choked out between a laugh. “And he listened?”
“Damn right, he listened. After I dragged his bitch down those stairs, I think he knows damn well not to bring another woman around my crazy ass. I promised him that he was next if he tested me.”
Desiree’s laughter was so loud, I had to move the phone away from my ear for a few seconds.
“Are you guys going to be okay? Seriously, do we need to come over?”
The loud orgasmic growl coming from the bathroom had me shaking my head. I was married to a fucking teenager.
“No. Let me worry about my husband. He’s not used to being handled. Apparently, women don’t tell him no enough. He will be all right.”
Her girlish giggle sounded again. Desiree had never sounded that gleeful and happy.
“I can tell by the spark of glee in your voice that ‘the Kannibal’ is over there eating you up any way you want it.”
Her low moan was all the answer I needed. The shower was running in our bathroom now, so Arjen was washing up after his little sex deprivation tantrum.
“I’m happy for you guys. You deserve to be happy, Des.”
“Thank you, but I know that you and Arjen will be happy together. The way he kissed you at the wedding. The way he kept staring at you at the reception. It might take a while, but I believe you’ll figure each other out.”
“I’m glad you think so. I, on the other hand, pray we last long enough for me to take over the world, so I can drop his ass.”
We went on about the new men in our lives until Desiree brought up work.
“I want to help you, Mecca. I know my father left things a mess, and you shouldn’t have to clean it up alone.”
The last thing I wanted was her getting tangled up in the den of sin that was our family business. She, as far as I was concerned, was all I had, and there was no way in hell I was dragging her in any further than she already was into this life of crime.
The Vallins weren’t saints, but she was better off living on that mountain with her big wolverine, than near the mess swirling around in the underbelly of the Vallin-Evans tornado. Knowing she was safe with Khane, was all the help I needed. Besides, Desiree and Raymond were close, so I couldn’t break her heart by telling her of my plan to kill his ass on sight.
She told me that Khane had figured out that she was the Bookkeeper, the codename she had used for the job she had meticulously maintained as advisor to a drug kingpin. She and I had already had two strategy sessions, where she had proven how she had earned the role. She thought out certain strategies as she would her art, painting openings where others wouldn’t. There was stuff in Desiree’s head that I didn’t even want to know.
The knowledge she possessed, and the dangerous information she held inside her head, could get her and any member of the Black Saints killed. It could even be leveraged by someone with enough power to take control of our organization. Raymond had allowed her secret to come out. It was one of the main reasons I had stripped him of the uncle title and was whipping his ass on sight, before I shot him if he showed his face again.
With a few calls, Desiree had people who had been blackmailed handing me updates that would have taken weeks of investigative work to figure out. Her efforts had also freed up another two million dollars.
“I’ll let you know when I need you. For now, relax and keep it low key. We don’t know what other bombs Raymond may have set in motion.”
“I’m serious, Mecca. If you need me, please let me know. I remember all the self-defense stuff you taught me. Khane has been teaching me some stuff too, so I can do more than just plan and strategize.”
I believed her. She would try for me, but Desiree wasn’t a shooter or a fighter. Her greatest weapon was her mind, and it was an asset I wanted to stay safe and protected.
The bathroom door popped open, and out he came with a towel wrapped around his waist, water sliding down his ripped muscles. The man was worth millions, so I knew he had bigger towels than the one he had chosen to wrap around his waist.
“I know, Des. Love you, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you too,” she replied before I hung up.
While talking to Desiree, I had taken up a comfortable position on my side of the bed with my back against the headboard. I sat in place, scanning the man that was doing everything in his power to seduce me. He pranced across the room for apparently no other reason than to allow me a better view of his body. He took a seat at the foot of our bed, his head aimed at the ceiling.
His muscled back made my mouth water and I could plainly see that the tattoo I had caught a glimpse of was only a hint of what was on his back. Ninety percent of his back was covered. He was one of those men that dressed up and played nice for the public while he hid his bad boy.
What is he up to now?
“It’s been a while since I’ve prayed, but I have an urgent need for it during this lockout period.” He glanced down.
Was he about to pray to the devil?
“You’ve always been a good dick.”
His first words caused me to gasp. No, he was not sitting there praying for his dick. The man was nothing like his dangerous reputation suggested. I thought I had married a savage beast. Instead, I had a fucking comedian.
“I ensured I trained you well. Taught you to respect women as much as they wanted to be. Taught you to be good to the pussy, to make it purr, and run wet and hot, and lay down, and beg and plead. To drip with appreciation and applaud your unrelenting efforts.”
Arjen was seriously off his meds, and funny as shit. My laughter burst free as I was no longer able to hold it back.
“I’m going to need you to be patient and kind to our Mecca, for she knows not what she’s missing. We are going to have to respect her demands and let her have her time, so she can accept us, and allow us access into those pearly gates of hers. Dammit, I know they are golden too. With a name like Mecca, you know we will be entering the holiest of lands.”
The intensity of my roaring laughter stopped Arjen’s dick prayer. His quick glance back produced a teasing smile and a quick eye wink. He had a playful side I hadn’t expected but was starting to love. I don’t believe he showed this part of himself often, if ever.
His ability to make me laugh had scored him another point, and I could feel another piece of the wall I had built tumbling down.
He stood in the middle of the floor, his finger tapping his lip, his eyes cast to the ceiling. I could picture the swarm of wicked ideas circling his head while I sat and observed, not saying a word.
>
Once he decided he was done with his silliness, he marched back to his side of the bed, his eyes locked on me the entire time. He threw back the covers, dropped the towel, and climbed in, butt ass naked, dick swinging all over the place.
What the hell was I going to do with Arjen Vallin?
13
Mecca
Here we go, I thought. I was preparing again to face these hardheaded man-children that I had inherited from my uncle, I mean, Raymond. They were getting the job done, I had to give them that much, but I’d had to stay on their asses enough that it was a miracle I hadn’t cleaned out their damn colons.
There was a rat or two among us that I was determined to find. Black Saints’ confidential information was seeping out the door and making it back to me via my spies. How else could we end up with two back-to-back shipments of our supply getting seized?
Authorities weren’t allowing us anywhere near the individuals that were arrested during the seizures, but I was convinced that the rat lived free and among us.
Recently, I’d had to send out a few orders that I wasn’t proud of, but that needed to be carried out: a show of force by brutally beating a few, or a display of authority by putting a permanent end to a few more. I didn’t like that part of the job, and worse, I didn’t like ordering others to do the dirty work. I would much rather get my own hands dirty, but there was too much, and too many to manage to continue to do all of my old jobs. Therefore, I was left with no choice but to disseminate duties.
The spies I had in place were finding secrets, and side deals with other groups that I had not been aware of, so progress was being made behind the scenes.
Sitting around the darkly varnished table in one of the three warehouses we owned and conducted our meetings in was ten of my street specialists. This was the fifth meeting I had called since Raymond had disappeared and left us holding a fifteen-million dollar tab and running low on our drug supply.