Pieces Of Heaven: Pieces Of Heaven (Heaven & Hell Book 2)

by Natasha Madison

  Mick nods his head, grabs my hand, and heads to the door.

  “But we haven’t asked anyone else,” I tell him as we walk out the door into the cool, night air.

  He doesn’t say anything as he shakes his head and heads to the car. He opens my door for me and rounds the hood to get inside himself. “Marissa, five minutes. I need five minutes to calm down before I lose my shit.”

  If I thought his eyes were hard before, I was wrong. His eyes are harder and angrier than I’ve ever seen them, fury and rage churning in them.

  I just nod my head and give him his five minutes in the hope that when they are up, my man, whose eyes are always soft and kind on me, is back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mick

  I knew going into that warehouse would be hard for me. But for different reasons. She doesn’t know that I’ve been in there more times than I can count, not just for work, but to get my own mother out of there.

  The thought of her in there by herself the last couple of times is enough to make me want to blow the damn place up. The minute I saw that pimp come out of the shadows, I wanted to take him down. After all these years, he hasn’t changed a bit. I was expecting his hair to at least turn white, that his face would show the signs of his hard life and his age. I really hoped that death would have claimed him in a painful way. He didn’t recognize me, the man I’ve become. I wonder if he even remembers the boy who would beg for his mother. The boy who would sit next to her and wait for her to be sober enough to walk us home. I can’t stop the awful memories of my childhood from running through my mind on a constant loop.

  I make it to Marissa’s apartment, the silence still looming between us after I demanded a few minutes to calm my thoughts. I turn the car off and look over at her, the defeat obvious in her eyes and her slumped shoulders. “We are going to find her. I fucking promise you. I won’t stop till we do.”

  A big tear rolls down her cheek, and her bottom lip quivers as she softly whispers, “I pray every single night, Mick, but I don’t think he hears me. Maybe my mom was right, maybe I am destined for Hell, because it sure feels like that’s where I am now.” She curls into herself and succumbs to her sobs.

  I round the car, open her door, and reach in to lift her into my arms to carry her inside. I take the keys from her and open the door, flipping the lights on. I set her down, and she immediately heads into Lori’s room to do her nightly check. Just like all the nights before, she comes up empty-handed.

  “Nothing,” she says as her stomach simultaneously gurgles loudly.

  “Did you eat?” I ask her even though I know her answer is no. “You don’t have any food. Can we go shopping tomorrow? Just to pick up some essentials?” I ask, and she just shakes her head no. I don’t push it. “Fine. Let’s order pizza.”

  “I’m exhausted, Mick. I just want to shower and go to bed,” she says.

  “So go. You working tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Only the dinner shift. I’m off on Sunday,” she tells me as she is startled by loud banging on her door.

  I swing into action, placing her behind me as the banging starts up again.

  “Open up, bitch, I know you’re in there,” a male voice on the other side of the door yells.

  She walks around me, swinging the door open. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” she tells this man, who is leaning against the doorjamb, a toothpick dangling between his lips.

  He’s about five foot ten. He looks like a pimp in his fake leather jacket, black dress pants, dress shirt unbuttoned to his sternum, and his shiny dress shoes. Jesus, the guy’s even wearing a freaking fedora, talk about stereotypes. His pock-marked face looks like the surface of the moon, if it were wrinkled and saggy, and the dark circles under his sunken, beady eyes only accentuate the fact that he is not a good-looking guy.

  “First of the month came and went. Where is the money?” he asks her.

  She goes into her room, bringing out a white envelope that is filled with cash.

  “That is this month’s and next, Ralph.” She hands it to him, and he opens the envelope to count it.

  “Word is that you got fired from Manny’s Jug House. You going to turn tricks now?” he says, still counting what is in the envelope.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I growl out.

  “Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you, man?” He finally notices me and stands up tall.

  “It’s all there, Ralph,” Marissa tells him while closing the door on him, turning around and leaning on it. “Jesus, when will this night end?” She rubs her face.

  “Two seconds, Marissa. Start talking before I go after him.”

  “That’s Ralph, the bookie/landlord/boss/asshole,” she says as she walks into the kitchen and grabs a glass to get herself some water from the sink.

  “Bookie?”

  “Yes, my ex’s bookie, who holds the debt that asshole left me with. He comes in person to collect from me. He promised to never touch Lori if I continued paying him.” She brings the glass to her lips, her hands shaking.

  “How long?” I ask her, hoping she answers me, but knowing I’ll be paying Ralph a visit myself tomorrow to find out.

  “I lost count.” She finishes her glass of water and puts it in the sink.

  I nod my head, knowing now isn’t the time to get into this with her. She’s had enough today. “Go shower, M.”

  “You’re not leaving?” she asks me softly.

  “Nope, and I gotta warn you, we’ll be sleeping in your bed together tonight. Okay?”

  “Ummm.”

  I see the questions in her eyes.

  “Just sleeping, M,” I tell her. “Go shower, and I’ll run down and get my bag out of the car.”

  “Cocky much?”

  “Not cocky. I just knew it was going to be a hard night—for both of us.” I grab the keys from the counter and head out, locking the door behind me.

  I make it outside, and I see Ralph leaning against the side of the building. His two goons are behind him.

  “She’s not worth it, you know?” he says while throwing the toothpick on the ground. “Sweet pussy, or so I’ve been told, but not sweet enough for any man to want to get in deep with her.”

  I watch him without saying anything, my thumbs in my pockets.

  “Bitch has more problems than she has years left on this earth. I made it so she’ll never be free of me. Never. Unless she wants to spread those fucking legs.” He laughs. “Then I’ll take off a good chunk of what she owes me. Fuck, I look forward to that day.”

  “Funny you should be here, Ralph,” I say, leaning in, whispering in his ear, “or should I just call you Frankie?” I pull back to see his face that was grinning before is doing nothing but staring at me in shock. I look at his goons, who are trying to figure out what just happened.

  “Go wait in the car,” he yells at them. When they are out of earshot he turns. “You know shit.” His tough guy act is only that, an act.

  “Okay, let’s say I know nothing. Let’s say that I don’t know that you really are Frankie from Hoboken. Let’s say you didn’t run down here twenty years ago and changed your name. Let’s say that you didn’t snitch on the Grilli family and they put a hit on your head. A hit that is still live in case you were wondering. Let’s also say that you don’t own half of the Manny Jug House, a club that makes some of their girls run tricks. A club that also deals in drugs. A front to the big poker club that you guys hold in the basement. Let’s also say”—I put my hand on my chin—“that all this information falls in the wrong hands, say someone that knows Chris Jr. You know Chris, right? You guys went to school together. He took you under his wing, brought you home. Made you part of the family. The same family that you snitched on. Now what do you think that is worth?” I wait for him to answer the questions.

  When I see his hand shake, I answer for him. “I’ll answer for you. About fifty grand. Debt clear. And just to make sure you understand. I have numbers programmed in my phone ready to be
dialed. Choice is yours. What do you say?”

  “You have my word,” he says and turns around, walking away.

  I rub my face with my hands. I start to walk back inside, my bag be fucking damned. “Oh and, Ralph, you touch one hair on her head or Lori, one, I’ll fucking gut you. You’ll wish for death to take you before I’m finished with you.” I lean in. “Trust me on this. One fucking hair.” I see him finally try to swallow, his mouth probably dry.

  I head back up the stairs and into the apartment. I hear the shower still running as I walk over to the couch and drop down on it. I sink further into it, resting my head against the back as I scrub my hands down my face. I feel a headache coming on. I close my eyes as I think back over this clusterfuck of a day.

  I don’t even hear the shower turn off or Marissa walking into the room and calling my name.

  “Mick,” she says softly, touching my hand.

  My eyes peel open, taking her in. Her hair, still wet from the shower, is tied to the side in a braid. She’s wearing little pink shorts and a black tank top with no bra. Her tits droop ever so slightly, telling me they’re real. “Do you want to shower before bed?”

  I pull her into my lap, guiding her hips to straddle me. The scent of strawberries swirls around us, filling my nose and making my mouth water. Looking into her eyes, I see that she is unsure how she should act, and I can practically see the questions running through her mind.

  “My mother used to turn tricks in that warehouse,” I tell her, not looking in her eyes, instead focusing on the end of her braid and how the hair curls. Her gasp is soft, almost a whisper, and I’m sure if I looked up, I’d see her wide eyes searching my face intently.

  “He was her ‘friend,’ that man we spoke to at the end,” I say with a humorless laugh. “I can’t tell you how many times I went in there to find her.”

  She runs her hands up and down my arms soothingly to encourage me to continue.

  “Mick, baby,” she says as she gently strokes my cheek, “go shower so we can go to bed, okay?” Her unsure eyes have now been replaced with a soft look of understanding, kindness, and sadness.

  I cup her face in my hands and bring her lips to mine, groaning when I feel her breath hitch as my lips claim hers. My tongue slides into her mouth, and she tilts her head to the side so I can deepen the kiss. Her hands wrap around my neck as her chest rests flush with mine. I can practically feel the heat of her pussy through her shorts and my jeans, right over my now hard cock. She grinds her hips down on me as this kiss starts to spiral out of control.

  I snake a hand around her waist and flip her onto her back before coming down on top of her. Her legs circle my hips, locking at the ankles behind my back as she draws me closer to her.

  I break the kiss, her chest heaving like she just ran a marathon. Her nipples peak into hard points under her top. I brace myself over her on my forearms as I say, “Fucking perfect, that’s what you are, fucking perfect and fucking mine.” I look into her eyes, hoping she sees all that I want to give. Hoping that she sees all of my own brokenness, wanting her to see my hope for us, willing her to see the love I want give her.

  I kiss down her neck, my tongue trailing out as I work my way to her ear. I whisper into it, “Tell me yes, Marissa. Tell me.” My heart thumps in my chest while I wait for her answer, wait for her consent to take us both to heaven.

  “Yes,” she whispers. One word, one word that is music to my ears.

  I pull down one side of her tank top to take her nipple in my mouth. I stop right before I can bring her flesh to my lips when I see the barbell running through her nipple. “Jesus, baby, that’s hot.” I suck her nipple deep into my mouth, my teeth biting down gently but still enough to give her a little bite of pain before I flick the barbell with my tongue. Her back arches off the couch.

  I rip the other side down and move to her other nipple, taking it in my mouth just as I did the other one. My forefinger and thumb roll the wet nipple I just left, the peak getting impossibly harder. Her hips buck, and her pussy grinds up against my now painfully hard cock. Her legs tighten around my back, pulling me closer to her. “Fucking hot,” I tell her as I back up onto my knees and palm both of her tits in my hands. A fucking perfect handful. I squeeze them both at the same time, bringing the tips of my forefingers and thumbs to her nipples where I gently pinch then twist. She throws her head back and moans so loudly, I’m sure the neighbors can hear.

  Her hips search for some form of friction, but with me on my knees, there’s nowhere for her to rub against. I look down at her, at us. She’s laid out in front of me, legs spread over my lap, me between them. Her hands are over her head, clutching on the arm of the couch. Her gorgeous tits are tight and high, nipples pink and peaked, her chest heaving. One leg has slipped off the couch and onto the floor while the other is pinned between me and the back of the couch. I gaze down at her still covered pussy and groan when I see the wetness seeping through her shorts.

  I trail my hand from her nipple down her stomach to the center of her pussy. I run my knuckle right down her covered slit. She whimpers and tries to move her hips as my fingers continue to torture her. I start to circle her clit that I know must be aching, and she’s almost desperate as she tries to work herself against my light touch.

  I continue stroking and teasing her, applying a bit more pressure, when I feel something hard. “Baby, you keeping something from me?” I ask her while I peel her shorts down and take a look. I see her pink clit and puffy lips glistening with her arousal, but it’s the little steel ring with a pink diamond pierced through her hood that catches my eye. “Fuck me.” I groan out as my mouth comes down on her pussy. My tongue flicks the piercing before I give it a little tug with my teeth. Her back arches off the couch as her hands come to her nipples to tug them. She circles her hips against my tongue, frantically trying to find her release.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marissa

  Oh, God. I have either died and gone to heaven, or I’m having a really fucking fantastic dream that I don’t think I ever want to wake up from.

  His tongue continues to tease me with slow, soft licks all around my clit, his teeth playing with my piercing. Occasionally he’ll drag his tongue down my slit and back up, licking and nipping at my lips. I peel my eyes open and prop myself up on my elbows to watch him. Fuck, what a sight.

  My shorts are only pulled down enough so he can get to my clit. I raise my legs in the air and pull my shorts free with one hand. Bringing them back down, I spread wide for him, wordlessly telling him what I want. I move one hand into his hair as I continue to play with my nipples with the other hand. I’m panting and whimpering.

  “Fuck, you taste like fresh fucking strawberries. Straight from the plant.” He continues to lick and suck and tug until I think I’m going crazy.

  I push down on his head, and he chuckles. I moan my frustration.

  “Ask me real nice, baby, and I’ll give you what you need,” he says, his hot breath tickling over my engorged clit.

  “Please, Mick. Oh, God, please make me come,” I beg.

  I can’t say any more because he instantly gets serious. I’ve never come just from my clit play, but I feel my pussy start to pulse. He sucks it into his mouth as his tongue flicks the ring, and I feel his finger slip inside of me, the tip searching for that sensitive spot. He hones in on it and rubs it as he sucks my clit hard. I feel my back bow off the couch, and my eyes close. I see flashes of bright light behind my lids, and my entire body spasms with the intensity of my orgasm. He goes back to gentle licks and kisses as he brings me down.

  I take a few moments to recover. Then with a surge of sexual courage I haven’t ever felt before, I push him off of me, whipping his shirt off before he falls to his back. I’m on my knees between his legs, braced over him on one arm as I palm his rock hard cock through his jeans. “Your turn, Mick.”

  His breath hitches when my free hand unsnaps the button and drags his zipper down.

  “If I came
that hard from just your tongue, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard I’m going to come with your cock in me,” I whisper into his ear and then give the lobe a little tug with my teeth. I slide the tips of my sensitive nipples across his chest as his breathing picks up to a pant. I start by placing a soft kiss under his chin while my hand snakes its way over the tight ripples of his abs and over the bulge in his jeans. I run kisses down his chest as my hand works his cock through the denim. I think I feel the telltale bumps of Mick’s own surprise in his pants. Fuck, I’ve never been with someone so fit. I’ve had two lovers in my life, the three-pump chump who took my virginity and then Lori’s dad, who wasn’t much to write home about either. I’ve had self-induced orgasms better than any of the ones he gave me.

  I pull back to admire him, removing my hand to trace along his abs. I take a moment to take in all that is Mick. His shoulders are big and broad. His chest is muscular and defined, leading down to his eight pack abs that taper into a V-cut into his jeans. I trail my finger across his pecs and then down to his abs as I feel the ridges and bunches under his smooth skin. My exploration is clearly working him up since his breathing is coming out in puffs.

  I open his jeans to reveal his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, but before I can get any further, his hands grasp me under my armpits and he lifts me off him.

  My eyes snap up to his as doubt creeps in. I’m not very experienced, and it’s been a very, very long time for me. Maybe I read him wrong. Maybe this isn’t what he wants. “Um,” I start to say. “Sorry, I just thought...” I don’t have the chance to finish as he drags me up his body and shuts me up with his mouth.

  His tongue invades my mouth, my taste on it. His hands reach my hips where he squeezes me. “I need a shower before we continue.”

  I’m afraid to answer him, so I just nod.

  “Turn off the lights and wait for me in bed.” He walks toward the bathroom.

  I do so and lock the door. Making my way into my bedroom, I think about putting on some sexy lingerie, but all I have is what I bought for work, and the thought of wearing anything that is associated with stripping makes my stomach turn.