by Jaci J
Jagger comes walking into the kitchen.
Cruz has me crushed to his chest, shouting over my shoulder, “Get the fuck outta here, man.”
Jagger laughs, stopping in the doorway and leaning against it, watching us. He crosses his arms, smirking. “Don’t stop on my account.”
“Swear to fuck, Jagger, I will kill you.”
He laughs again, holding his hands up and retreating back in to the living room. “I’ll be waiting for you in the barn. Got shit to discuss.”
Cruz groans, his forehead on my shoulder. “Motherfucker,” he whispers, his cock jerking when he pulls out of me slowly. “Sorry, Angel.”
“I know,” I mumble, kissing his lips.
“I gotta go talk to that asshole.”
I watch Cruz tuck himself back into his jeans and then he’s on me, fixing my dress and pulling me off the counter, putting me on my feet. “You gonna be okay?” He looks down at me, his hand rubbing small circles over my belly.
“There’s cold pizza in the fridge, I’ll be fine,” I assure him, walking around him and pulling the box from the fridge. “But you owe me.”
“Oh yeah? What do I owe you?”
“Thirty minutes of uninterrupted pussy eating.”
Cruz laughs loudly. “I enjoy that shit as much as you do.”
Cruz
“Fucking asshole,” I grunt, walking into the barn. It sits on the other side of the house, the yard and patio between both.
My hand flexes, ready to knock heads when I see a couple of assholes in my shop.
Jagger laughs. “I knocked, motherfucker, and you didn’t answer.” He’s standing at the work bench, smirking.
“Doesn’t mean you just walk the fuck in,” I growl, letting the door slam behind me.
“Lock your goddamn door and I won’t.”
About to knock his ass out, Ryker clears his throat. “We gonna do this or am I gonna have to act as ref while you two go a couple rounds?”
“No. I got shit to finish, so tell me what the fuck you found.”
They’re both standing at my workshop, looking at a computer.
Ryker turns the computer toward me.
It’s a shot of the street outside the jewelry store. Black and white, poor quality, but good enough. And its time stamped about five minutes after we left, four-thirty.
Maria’s still there, though, standing mid-frame. Her back is to the camera, but I know goddamn well it’s her. But this time, she’s on the other side of the street, standing on that sidewalk.
Fuck.
She looks at a car.
In the next frame, she’s closer to that car.
She’s in the window of that car next, talking to the motherfuckers inside, the motherfuckers that hurt Mia and shot me.
Either she knows them, or they approached her when they saw us talking, but neither is good.
My blood pressure shoots through the roof, my temper flaring up.
I had Ryker hack into the store’s security system. I was looking for a plate number, but found something else entirely.
“How you wanna do this?” Jagger asks, looking away from the computer and at me.
He doesn’t look happy. I feel the same goddamn way.
Only one way to go about this.
Pulling out my phone, I do something I don’t want to fucking do.
This shit doesn’t make me happy, but it has to be done, and it has to be done by me.
The phone rings twice before she answers. “Hey, Cruz?”
“Whatcha doin’, babe.” That shit feels like acid in my mouth, the words burning my tongue.
I’ve lied, a lot, but this time, it feels different.
Looking at Mia standing in my kitchen, watching her through the window, I feel like shit. Feel like a fucking fraud. I feel like I might be ruining the only goddamn thing in my life worth a damn.
“Why are you calling?” Maria sounds suspicious, and I figured she would be after seeing me with Mia, but the bitch is desperate.
“Hang up, then, if you’re even asking me that shit,” I growl, giving her mean, exactly how she likes me. “Saw you today and now I wanna see you again.”
Lies. More fucking lies.
She laughs, breathy and soft. “You missed me, huh?” She’s playing her games, games she knows I won’t play, but she plays them anyway.
“Missed that mouth.”
“What about your wife?” She spits out the word like it’s a bad taste in her mouth, which it probably fucking is, but it’s hard not to tell her to shut the fuck up when talking about my girl. In fact, I don’t want her talking about her at all.
“Listen, she’s for me to fucking worry about, not you, you feel me?”
“What do you want then?”
“That pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around my dick.”
That was fucking hard to say, harder than I thought it would be.
Maria giggles, trying to sound shocked. “Whoa, Cruz.”
“You gonna act like you didn’t like sucking me off?” I ask her, knowing the answer to that question. I remember the bitch, not fondly. She was one of many. The desperate, sad many.
Maria sighs. “You know I do.” She’s giving in.
“I wanna see you tonight.” My biggest damn lie thus far. The hardest lie thus far. The only woman I want to see is Mia. The only woman I want to touch is Mia.
Maria hums into the phone, her voice soft. “Yeah, I could do that. Where?”
“You work tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Ten tonight.”
She agrees easily, and I hope like hell it’s not too easily.
“Bye, Cruz.”
I hang up, hating myself.
Jagger looks at me, his arms crossed. “Feelin’ shitty about that?”
I nod, grabbing a beer from the shop fridge. “I did what I had to do.”
“It’s for your girl.”
Only reason I’m doing it.
Mia
Head back, I massage shampoo that smells like coconut into my hair, enjoying the hot water on my skin.
The shower curtain tears open, the rings scraping along the metal bar, making me jerk. Whipping my head around, I look at Cruz, the person letting the cold air into my heated sanctuary, and frown.
Standing in front of the shower, one hand braced on the wall, he stares at me.
For a moment, I see something on his face I don’t like, something dark and dangerous, before he wipes it away, scrubbing at his scruffy cheek.
“Angel,” he growls, taking his time looking over my naked body— a body that’s slowly changing.
“Cruz,” I laugh, watching him adjust himself through the fabric of his jeans, clearly hard. “What are you doing?”
“Nothin’. Just appreciating my girl.”
“Really?”
“Really, baby.”
I study him. He seems a little off. “Are you okay?” I ask, rinsing my hair out, watching him out the corner of my eye.
“I’m good.”
He shifts his big body, leaning back against the sink, arms and ankles crossed.
He doesn’t close the curtain and he doesn’t leave. He watches intently, eyes hard and dark. He’s not in any hurry to leave.
“Seriously, what’s up?” I ask as I turn off the water and get out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the shelf.
He seems different.
“I have to leave in a few,” he says carefully, watching for my reaction.
Oh. “Okay?”
“Why do you say it like a question?”
I wrap the towel around my body. “Sounded like you were asking me for permission.”
“Do you not want me to go?” he asks, putting his finger in the towel between my tits, tugging on the material.
It’s like he wants me to fight him, beg him to stay. The why worries me.
“I want you to stay, but you’re not going to, are you?” I sigh when his finger brushes against the skin between my tit
s, my nipples pebbling.
“I gotta go, Angel,” he reiterates, tugging the material away from my body. I let it go easily, let it fall to the floor at my feet. “But I’ll be back,” he says slowly, his voice gritty.
My eyes flutter closed when he drags his rough palm over my nipple, palming me. He squeezes, jiggling my swollen and sensitive flesh. “Okay,” I pant, lost in his touch.
“I’ll always come back to you, baby.” His hand glides down my stomach to between my thighs. “Spread your legs, Mia,” he tells me, pushing his hands between my legs.
I let my legs drift apart.
Cruz teases my wet flesh, his fingers playing with my wet pussy.
“You trust me?” he questions, his voice hoarse.
I nod, biting my lip.
Up against the bathroom wall, one of my legs hiked up and wrapped over Cruz’s hip, I let him finger me into compliance, agreeing to anything he asks.
“You love me?” he growls, jerking at his fly and pulling out his cock.
The sex is good with Cruz, better than good. It’s fucking explosive. But it’s not just the sex, it’s the way he touches me, the way he looks at me. The way he loves me. “You know I do,” I reply, sucking in a breath when he pushes inside of me in one swift move.
Deep and slow.
I know he loves me, as quick as it came, our love coming out of nowhere. I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of hearing it, though. It’s new, so new, but when he says it, I know he means it.
Cruz doesn’t fuck me this time. He takes his time, showing me how much he loves me. But when he leaves, the worry in my stomach grows because I know he loves me, but he’s dangerous.
Cruz
Walking into the Pussy Palace, the guys with me, I can’t shake the feeling that this is a bad fucking idea.
There’s a couple of females on the stage, naked, shaking their tits and asses, grinding against a pole to an overplayed rap song.
Used it be my kind of thing. Not anymore.
No one in the place stops us when we walk through the back door toward the employee area. The bouncer watches us, and the bartenders looks like they want to say something, but they all fucking know better.
I stand around for about fifteen minutes, waiting for the bitch, but she’s a no shows, playing hard to get.
“Wait out here,” I tell them, walking through the door to the dressing room area.
A couple of bitches wearing next to nothing look up at me from their makeup and shit. “Where’s Maria?” I ask the one with her tits out, standing by the door.
“In the bathroom,” she squeaks, stepping out of my way.
I’m sure my face gives away how I’m feeling. I school that shit real goddamn quick. Maria might not be the smartest broad alive, but she’s smart enough. She’ll know I’m mad.
Pushing the bathroom door open, I find Maria standing in front of a mirror, damn near naked. Wearing nothing but a string bikini and the tallest fucking heels known to man, she whips her head around and looks at me.
“What the hell?”
“You’re fuckin’ late,” I bark out, checking the time on my phone. Ten-fifteen. “You don’t make me wait.”
She smiles. “Sorry, I was trying to get ready for you. I wanted to look good.”
Maria isn’t ugly, but she’s fake. Fake tits. Fake face. Fake ass personality.
“I want a dance,” I tell her, watching her adjust the elastic of her G-string.
She licks her lips. “In a private room?”
She wants me to fuck her. Not a chance in hell of that happening again. But I say, “Yeah,” needing her alone. I need her pliant and wanting.
Sitting back on the lounge chair, arm on the backrest, I watch Maria while thinking about my girl. Thinking about how goddamn lucky I am and how much I fucking love her. Think about my baby growing in her belly and my ring on her finger.
I feel guilty.
I feel like fucking shit.
“This good, baby?” Maria coos, approaching slowly, her hands on my thighs as she sways, dropping to the floor.
It’s only been a few months, but I don’t remember my life before Mia. I don’t remember this shit being part of my life, but here I am, doing shit I used to.
“Yeah,” I grunt, having a hard time playing this shit off.
Maria dances around me.
Her back against my front, she grinds her ass into my dick. “Bet your wife doesn’t make you feel this good,” she purrs.
I don’t say shit. I need this bitch on my side.
But she just keeps running her mouth.
“Does she make your cock hard like me?”
Grabbing my hand, she puts it on her tit and instantly, I pull it away. Jesus. Maria doesn’t seem to notice or care because she spins around, her hands on my legs, her tits in my face.
She dances, and I bide my time.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” she tells me, smiling.
“Seeing me with my girl on the sidewalk yesterday doesn’t seem to have bothered you too much,” I sneer when she grinds her nasty snatch on my leg.
“You’re here with me in the end,” she says softly, pulling at the tie of her tiny ass top. “Always coming back for more.”
We’re in a private room, no one around, and I wait until she’s back up and off me, shaking her tits to get up and walk her back toward the velvet covered wall.
“Cruz,” she moans when I wrap my hand around her neck.
She thinks this is a sex thing.
It’s not.
She shivers what I put my fist against the wall next to her head, pinning her in place.
She licks her lips when I get close to her, nose to nose, rubbing at her nipples with her hand as I squeeze down on her throat.
“Got a question for you, darlin’,” I whisper near her ear.
This shit isn’t easy. Makes me fucking sick if I’m being honest, but it has to be done.
Maria whimpers, “Yeah?”
“Who the fuck were those guys in the car yesterday?” I ask, my voice tight.
Her eyes get big. She knows what I’m talking about. “W–What?” she stutters, stupid.
“You fucking know.”
“Cruz!” she yelps when I squeeze down.
I won’t kill the bitch.
Not yet anyway.
“Who. The. Fuck. Were. They.” I punctuate every word with a little squeeze.
I fucking know, but I want to hear her say it. Confirm it.
She wiggles, trying to get away from me. I know she’s scared, scared that I’m going to hurt her, and I just might if something happens to my girl.
I know those motherfuckers are out for revenge, looking to retaliate. Mia’s a fucking prize, and I stopped those pieces of shit from taking something they truly wanted—her. I can’t let that shit happen. Not to Mia, and not to any fucking woman those assholes might run across if they don’t get dealt with.
“I don’t really know, okay!”
“Not good enough.”
“They saw us talking I guess. They came in here to see me last night, said they were old friends of yours,” she gasps, crumpling when I let her go.
“What’d you fucking tell them?” I roar, blocking the door to the private room.
On the floor on her knees, Maria looks up at me, a mix of fear and anger on her red face. “I told them we used to date and that was all. They asked for your fucking address to visit you.”
The room starts to spin hearing her words.
She gave them my fucking address.
To my goddamn house.
To where my girl is right fucking now.
Alone.
Mia
Something wakes me up.
The dogs barking in the distance.
The whine of the door opening.
The creak of the floorboards.
The bed dipping next to my body.
The sheets pulling away from me.
The touch of hands on my skin—unfamiliar ha
nds.
My heart notices it first, taking flight in my chest, beating wildly before I even open my eyes.
It only takes me a moment to realize something’s not right.
It’s not Cruz.
Someone grabs my ankle and pulls, hard, my body sliding down the bed toward the edge.
I shriek and try to sit up to see what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m pinned to the bed by two pairs of hands.
“Miss me?” a distant, yet familiar voice growls inches from my face.
It hits me like a ton of bricks.
No!
Struggling, I fight with the hands on my shoulders while kicking at the hands around my ankles.
They’re here. Both of them.
The room is dark, damn near pitch-black, but as my eyes adjust, I make out their distorted faces.
The one above me is smiling, enjoying this. Just like the first time.
“Look, the bitch is scared,” he taunts, licking my tears. “She’s crying.”
I hadn’t even realized I was crying until he said something, and I feel stupid for the tears falling. They won’t help. They won’t make this better. They won’t save me.
Tears of frustration, maybe.
“Please,” I whimper, steeling myself for the harsh reality of their refusal of my plea. I know they don’t care. They didn’t the first time.
“Shut the fuck up,” the one in my face growls, moving a hand to my throat and backhanding me with the other, his knuckles splitting my lip.
It hurts, a shock of pain ripping through my mouth.
I taste blood.
I want to tell him I’m pregnant, beg them not to hurt my baby. I don’t, though, out of fear it’ll make them want to hurt me more, hurt Cruz more.
“Where’s your fucking man?” he taunts, looking around our bedroom.
“I–I don’t know,” I stutter.
Never in my life have I needed someone more than I do right now.
Cruz. I need Cruz.
“You fucking know!” He puts both of his hands around my neck, choking me. “Tell me where he’s at!”
He’s shaking me, violently, his fingers squeezing my throat.
I don’t know, but I lie. “At the store,” I wheeze, getting out the words.