Cyrus (The Henchmen MC Book 9)

by Jessica Gadziala

  For our ma, she got to tan on the beach drinking mojitos.

  But for us, it was a vacation as well.

  Then Mom came home, whip in hand, and it was back to real life.

  Dad was killed.

  And Mom went into full-on dictator-mode.

  While, as an adult, I understood it, as a teen and young adult, yeah, man, I fucking loathed it.

  So as soon as I turned eighteen, I asked Reeve to crash with him.

  But I didn't exactly do much crashing. I was bed-hopping most nights, or off in the city, or both.

  So, yeah, I had seen about all there was to see in the city that never sleeps.

  But I had never gotten to see it through Reese's eyes.

  Apparently, well, she simply had better eyes too.

  Because everything from the hot dog venders to the taxidermied corpses of extinct birds absolutely fascinated her. Her eyes went huge; her lips parted; her breath whooshed out of her; her cheeks got flushed in excitement.

  Suddenly, it was like seeing it all again for the first time, but through a sharper, more beautiful lens.

  Whereas my visits had maybe had me noticing the less fine details - the screaming car horns, the angry yelling on cell phones, the homeless begging for food or money, the gang graffiti, the tourists stopping in the middle of a sidewalk to take group photos and holding up foot traffic, and the general unpleasant smell that was a mix of cooking food spices and the overabundance of rotting dumpster garbage - Reese was in the rose-colored glasses phase.

  I didn't have to ask to know that she hadn't visited before, that her life hadn't allowed her such luxury, even though Navesink Bank was only an hour away.

  The fact of the matter is, I knew Reese grew up poor. The kind of poor that meant some weeks even with a multitude of coupons in hand, her mother didn't have enough money to get anything more than rice and beans and dollar pizzas.

  So it made sense that, even though it was close, and there was a lot to do that didn't cost much, even the thirty dollars per person it would have cost to take the train was an ostentatious extravagance that her mother simply couldn't afford.

  And, well, as an adult, Reese just wasn't the kind of woman to go exploring a new city all by herself. Unless exploring them in her books counted. To her, they very much did.

  So, let me tell ya, it was a fucking sight to see to watch her bouncing with excitement at the museum, to watch her let out a foodgasm noise over a simple hot pretzel, to see her light the fuck up when I got her a stuffed goldfish.

  That being said, that sight paled in comparison to seeing her eyes heat up as I touched her, to watching her back arch, body writhe, mouth open on whimpers and moans as I worked her wet pussy through the drenched material of her panties.

  I had woken up before her, taking myself into the bathroom to shower and, well, deal with my own sexual frustration. I had never, not even in high school, not even when I was just starting out with women, had I ever slept in bed beside one without fucking her first. It was a new experience for me. And, surprisingly, not unwelcome. Maybe that was only because I did want to take it slow; I didn't want to rush through it; I truly wanted to experience it.

  It was new for me.

  But I was enjoying the ride.

  Even if the blue balls were getting genuinely painful.

  She'd be worth the wait.

  I heard a grumble and a thump that, I imagined, was her cell hitting the floor after she checked it, and tried to put it back while still half-asleep.

  I dried off, moving out into the main room in the towel since I forgot to grab clothes, never having given too much thought to walking around naked in front of a woman before because, like I mentioned, it was usually post-fucking naked.

  "Why didn't, oh," she stopped mid-sentence, eyes dropping toward my chest, stomach, lower.

  I forced the smile to straighten out, not wanting her to think I caught her eye-fucking me - though I totally had. "Why didn't I what?" I asked, going for casual even though the way she sat up, pushing her wild hair back, and squinting at me with sleepy eyes was making it so that the towel would soon not be hiding anything.

  "Wake me," she supplied after a minute as I moved to sit down on the edge of her bed with her.

  I couldn't exactly tell her it was because I needed to jerk-off while she was still asleep, so I side-stepped it completely. "You're up now. There is breakfast downstairs. If we hustle, we can fit it in before Bookjam so a growling stomach doesn't get in the way of your nerd-out."

  "Oh okay," she said, jumping up in just her short tee and panties, somehow wrestling out of her robe in sleep.

  But, weirdly, as soon as she was on her feet, she actually jumped in a half-circle, her eyes huge.

  "Alright. I can't just let that one go. What was that, bunny rabbit?" I asked, grinning.

  "Nothing," she rushed to say, her word actually tumbling over mine she was in such a rush to say it.

  "Ah, now we both know that's not true. Come on, give it to me."

  "I don't have pants on."

  My eyes went down, taking in her bare legs, trying not to look at the little swatch of pink fabric hiding her pussy. "I can see that." When my eyes moved up again, hers simply wouldn't meet my gaze, looking down at her feet, eyes half-closed. "Ree, what is it? You don't want me to see..." Her ass. That was the only explanation. She had no problem with me looking at her bare legs, or being eye-level with her pussy, but she jumped to make sure her backside was facing away from me. "Baby," I said, trying not to smile because I knew it was serious to her, even if it was ludicrous to me, "there's nothing wrong with your ass."

  I kid you not.

  She rolled her fucking eyes at me.

  At that, I did have to smile a little.

  "You haven't seen it," she insisted, raising her chin a little.

  "I can check it out right now if you want," I offered, smirk toying with my lips. "I'm down to worship that ass," I added.

  "Be serious."

  "About you, Ree, I'm pretty fucking serious," I offered, reaching out to put my hands on her hips, pulling her until her legs hit my knees, unable to pull her any closer lest the towel open and completely expose me, which I was pretty sure was not needed in the moment. "I get that you might have your issues with it, but I can guaran-fucking-tee you that this ass," I said as my hands slid back and down to sink into it, making her body jump, but not pull away, "is fucking perfect. I know that's not where your mind is at, or will be anytime soon, but somehow, someday, someway, I am going to make you believe that too. Now go get your geek gear on so we can hustle."

  She gave me a long, heavy look, then nodded, moving off to do so, still trying to mostly-hide her ass, but not being ridiculous about it.

  As she hid herself away to dress, and I moved to find clothes for myself as well, I had to fight the urge to bring it up to her again. Insecurity was normal for all intents and purposes, but almost always completely irrational. Especially when it came to a woman's softness. You know, the thing men liked most about women. If we weren't turned on as all fuck by those, we'd probably be fucking dudes. That was kinda how it worked. Tits, ass, thighs, hips, those were the things we wanted to sink our fingers and teeth into. And yet they were the things women made themselves sick over. It made no fucking sense. And I didn't like the idea of Reese thinking any part of her was undesirable enough to actually fucking hide from me.

  But you didn't help ease an insecurity by trying to rationalize it out of someone. My only course of action was to use my long game, slowly show her how much I liked her ass until she maybe started liking it as well.

  Until then, if she had to bunny hop, she had to bunny hop.

  I smiled as she walked out of the bathroom in her typical black leggings, black flats, and a burnt orange cardigan that matched the flame accents on her Harry Potter t-shirt.

  That was some geek gear alright.

  "I'm ready," she declared, giving me an excited smile.

  --

 
; "I'm sorry," she said for about the fiftieth time since we walked into the Javis Center after waiting in a modest five-minute line to get in where we were handed free coffee, and given fliers for a new Netflix-for-books service that had Reese shoving it immediately inside her purse into look in later.

  "Stop saying you're sorry," I said, shaking my head as I took three more books from her hands.

  She was sorry that she squealed when she first walked in. Then she was sorry that her hands got full, and she needed them free to get more books and swag, so I took them from her. She was sorry that I had to overhear her talking to some big-time book blogger about - get this - Daya being the next big name in indie. She was also sorry that when my hands got full, she needed to rent a cart that had a picture of a mostly-naked man on front to pull around.

  This time, though, she was sorry because she wanted to go sit-in at a panel of romance novelists who were doing a Q&A.

  "I know it's been so much booky and girlie stuff..."

  "That's why we're here, angel. You go do your panel thing. I am going to browse around and call my brother."

  "You're sure you don't mind?" she asked, both practically jumping out of her skin in excitement, and worrying her lower lip with her teeth about me.

  I reached out, snagging the back of her neck, dragging her against my body, then sealing my lips over hers.

  That was one way to get her to stop worrying about me.

  I pulled away quickly to avoid having a hard-on in the middle of a crowd, but way too fucking soon at the same time.

  And damn if she didn't sway on her feet after for a second, looking up at me with dreamy eyes.

  "You're gonna be late."

  "Late?"

  "For your romance panel," I supplied with a smile, loving how easy it was to muddle her brain.

  "Oh! Right. Yeah, I promise it will be the last thing!"

  It wouldn't.

  I knew that.

  There would still be an hour left after she got back, and she was going to find at least five extra things she wanted to see before then. That was the point. I wanted her to have a day all her own. She deserved it. And I was having fun watching her enjoy it. And maybe overhearing some of the, ah, explicit discussions about these romance heroes. Hell, I even heard the one discussed from the book I read aloud to Reese that night in the library.

  I watched her scurry off, reaching for my cell as I went down a floor where no real events were going on, where there was a charging station and a lot of open room to make my call.

  "How's it going working with Edison?"

  "You should see this fucking fortress, man," Reeve said, sounding tired. "No way in. Reign said it was because V's guys had infiltrated once, and Lyon got some professionals in to make the place impenetrable."

  "Did you guys ever see the new boss?"

  "Pulls a car with darkened windows right into the garage. No one who has followed him around town has seen him either."

  "Did they do any more drive-bys?"

  "Figure the Mallicks are no worry to them, since they don't do turf wars; they don't get involved with anything really. And no one is going to start shit with the mob. It's not New York level Cosa Nostra down here, but they have connections to New York. No one wants to fuck with the wise guys."

  "How's Summer doing?"

  There was a pause. "Reign hasn't been around too much. Cash said she won't get out of bed still. She'll get there."

  If anyone knew about getting over grief, it was Reeve.

  "So, nothing new to report?"

  "Nah. Don't see there being anything until you get back, if then even. How are things?"

  "There are cock-shaped lollipops here," I told him, hearing a chuckle from not only him, but someone who must have been standing close enough to overhear. "It's good. Things are good."

  "Glad to hear it." He was too, even if he didn't necessarily sound like it. He might have given up any hope of finding any happiness in his own life, but he still wanted it for Wasp and me.

  "Call me if anything changes. It's only an hour or so away."

  "Things will be fine. Enjoy your woman. We'll see you when you get back."

  With that, he ended the call.

  Reeve wasn't much for small talk or saying goodbye.

  I tucked my phone away, feeling better about being away knowing that nothing was going on without me, and browsed around a couple of the merch stands, pulling my naked man cart behind me. It was full. Actually, it was over-full. Books were piled halfway up the handle part, wobbling ominously. I got a few heavyweight totes to load them up, knowing it was too much to carry when we left, bought Reese a small surprise, and returned the cart before going to wait for her outside the panel room doors.

  I was right, too.

  There were seven more things she needed to see before the announcement came that Bookjam was over.

  I walked out of that building with the happiest woman on earth on my arm.

  In turn, I was the happiest man.

  I had never realized it worked like that before.

  Apparently, Reese had things to show me about the world as well.

  THIRTEEN

  Reese

  Have you ever had a day that was so amazing, so full of all the best things, that it trumped literally every book you have ever read put together?

  Don't feel bad if you haven't.

  I hadn't either until I got to have a full day of Cyrus treating me to all the things that I loved most. Books, authors, swag, food, toe-tingling kisses, and, well, him.

  Yes.

  I was going to go ahead and say it.

  Maybe it was still in the beginning stages.

  Maybe it was just a flicker of something, still younger than noon.

  But it was there.

  There was no denying it, even if I wanted to. And, why would I ever want to?

  I was falling for him.

  Slowly, but quickly, somehow at the same time.

  I guess it worked that way when you were in friend-love with someone first.

  I had weeks of being near him to like his humor, his easy smile, his sparks of wisdom, his passion for music, his loyalty to his brotherhood and family, his sweetness. I got to know all his preferences, all his pet peeves.

  So, really, now that we were more than friends, there wasn't that much to learn, wasn't much more to fall in love with. Except maybe how good he was to me.

  And he was good.

  Exceptional.

  Incredible.

  I bet the rate of divorce in the world would plummet if couples surprised their significant other with a day full of everything that would make them smile, even if it wasn't their cup of tea. It showed just how much you meant to someone to be that selfless, to be that giving, that thoughtful.

  Books weren't Cy's thing.

  I was sure that, some day, when I found the right book for him - and that was my mission in life - he would get all kinds of wrapped up in fiction as well, but that wasn't his current reality. And yet he stood in signing lines with me. He listened to me as I met bloggers I had been virtual friends with for years, but never met, but was blown away with how awesome they were in real life as well. He pulled that naked, sexy man cart around like it didn't bother him in the least. He didn't so much as sigh when I said for the umpteenth time "just one more thing" when, in fact, we both knew it wasn't going to be just one more thing. Even after being there the whole day, he listened to me speed-babble for the walk back to the hotel. All forty-minutes of it. And he wasn't just daydreaming and pretending to listen either; he was engaging, and asking me questions, and offering opinions as well.

  In short, he was being the absolute, ideal, perfect leading man.

  Oh yeah.

  I said it.

  Move over all my book boyfriends; there is a real life man who blows you all out of the water.

  If you had asked me a few weeks ago if that was possible, I would have laughed.

  But it was possible.

 
It was happening.

  To me.

  Of all people.

  I was afraid if I thought about it too much, it was going to make it all somehow go away.

  So I didn't think. I felt. I smelled. I saw. I heard. I tasted.

  We got back to the hotel sometime around early evening, Cyrus putting my bags on his bed so I could sort through everything while he ran out to grab food. By the time he got back, I had things stacked into categories, and organized by whether they were signed copies or not. All my bookmarks were stabbed inside the front covers for safekeeping. My mugs, keychains, pens, and a few tees were all in another pile. All of them, though, were still on his bed. Because, while I wasn't sure I could force the words out to his face, I wanted him to know that he was sleeping with me again.

  Maybe more than sleeping.

  Almost definitely more than sleeping.

  At least, if I had anything to say about it.

  "Since you were too distracted to tell me what you wanted to eat," he announced as he came in, "I got a little bit of everything." He had, too. His hands were full of various take-away bags, and I could hear the awful scratching noise of multiple styrofoam containers rubbing against one another. "We have Chinese, tacos, burgers, and fries."

  I was pretty sure more beautiful words had never been spoken.

  "This time, you pick the movie," he announced, walking over to the bed to take things out of the bags, opening the tops, and filling the room with far too much goodness to even go about describing. If there was a heaven, I was pretty sure it would smell like all your favorite foods, together, at once. At least, that was what I hoped.

  "I picked everything all day," I immediately objected.

  "And now you're picking the movie. Be good, or you don't get to get the surprise I got for you while you were away in your panel thing," he teased, immediately making me turn.

  "Surprise?"

  "After we eat," he said with one of his big smiles as he moved to sit up on the bed, tossing a set of disposable utensils at me. "Pick your movie."

  With a surprise on the line, I surely did.