Smart Baztard (Baztards MC Book 1)

by N. S. Johnson

  Gabby had seen Prince looking at her in her colorful swimsuit. She'd chosen it because the colors reminded her of a Rubik's Cube, Prince's favorite game. His gaze had been locked on her ass as though he was trying to figure out how to solve the puzzle of her. And when he'd held her hand, she'd felt the same electricity she'd always felt between the two of them.

  "I'm gonna head out with Cheryl and Walt," Diniece was saying. "You coming?"

  Gabby had seen Prince go off into the pool house and she hadn't seen him leave. The last thing she wanted to do was go out and feign interest in frat boys. "I'm gonna stay here and clean up a bit. But you go on ahead."

  Diniece cocked her head to the side and regarded her friend. "I can stay behind and do the ice cream after a break up thing with you."

  "No need," Gabby sighed. "Charlie wasn't worthy of a tub of ice cream."

  "Okay, girl." Diniece brought Gabby in for a hug. "Shopping therapy tomorrow?"

  "Definitely."

  Gabby watched her friend walk out the gate and then she turned to the pool house. Technically, it was the Hernandez's pool. But with Eagle and Hawk being best friends and Gabby constantly clinging to Prince as a child, and not to mention their mom and her dad working closely together, the families both claimed it.

  Gabby opened the door to see a large man sprawled out on the couch. Prince had a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He looked up to see her close the door. His unfocused eyes went wary, and then shifted to concern.

  "Hey, monkey?" He sat his beer and the remote down and stood. "What's the matter?"

  The nickname had come about when she was three and would wrap all of her limbs around him in an effort to escape bedtime, or nap time, or going to daycare, or for any reason that she could think up to stay with Prince.

  Gabby was the first to admit that she could be manipulative. She had to be when she was surrounded by three large males who could best her with their pinky fingers. She learned to bat her eyelashes, pout her lips, and play on the protective instincts of her brother, Eagle, and Prince.

  "Was it that prick?" He came to stand before her. "Where is he? What did he do?"

  Gabby shook her head, batting her eyelashes. "He's gone. It's over between us."

  "Yeah, I thought so." Prince scanned her body as though looking for any evidence of wounds. Finding none, he looked into her eyes. "What happened?"

  "Last night, Charles wanted me to do something that I didn't want to do."

  Prince's nostrils flared like a lion ready to strike. It made Gabby feel tingles in her belly.

  "Don't go ballistic," she said. "I thought I wanted to do it. But when he did it, I decided I didn't like it. He got mad that I wouldn't let him try again. So, I broke up with him."

  Prince bared his teeth when he spoke. "What did he try to do?"

  Gabby tugged her lower lip in her mouth before she responded. She felt her cheeks flush as she said the words. But she was unsure if she was embarrassed by what Charlie had done or if she felt excited talking sex with Prince.

  "He finger popped me," she said.

  "Finger popped?" Prince whispered the words. His brown skin looked like it was turning green.

  "He stuck his thumb into my vagina." She knew she didn't need to clarify, but her words worked.

  Prince's protective instincts kicked in. He looked ready to murder poor Charlie. Gabby knew she just needed to turn that mindless aggression to a better cause.

  "I don't understand how that was supposed to feel good?" She crossed her arms over her chest and gave herself a squeeze. "I didn't like it. His hands were rough and it hurt. I mean, it's not like I was ready for sex. But I was willing to take a step. Now, I don't know if I'm interested."

  "He didn't know what he was doing."

  "I figured," she said taking a step into Prince. "I mean you have rough hands." She trailed a finger down his forearm to the fleshy part of his thumb. "Whenever you touch me it never hurts."

  He took a step back, but her hands snaked around his hips and locked at his low back. She unloaded the rest of her arsenal, looking up at him from under long lashes, and then there was the pout. She knew Prince could never resist the pout.

  "Gabby…" Prince warned, his tone no-nonsense.

  But she had one more card to play. And this one never failed. She tilted her head and changed tactics.

  "It's just that… You've always been my best tutor. And it's been so hard not having your help to navigate college. And now there are all these intimate situations."

  She tightened her hold on him. He didn't retreat. Her body was pressed flush against his. She could feel his heavy breaths that began in his belly, rose to his chest, and landed on her forehead. He wasn't holding her, but she had him.

  "I just want to know what it's supposed to feel like," she said. "You know, for when the next boyfriend goes down there."

  Prince's body tensed, and he cursed under his breath.

  "Please," she said again. "Show me what's supposed to happen. I trust you more than anyone."

  She felt his breaths rise and fall a little faster. She felt the rumble in his belly as it pressed into hers. Something firm pressed into her belly as well.

  Prince's hand slipped a little lower on her waist. She watched the calculations play out in his hazel eyes. She'd never been this close to her goal, and she wasn't going to let this opportunity pass her by.

  Gabby knew that she and Prince were meant to be. It was one of her first memories. She'd never understood why they had to wait until an arbitrary number of years to pass for them to be together. But she was of age now. There was nothing stopping them, except his hesitation.

  "He pinched me down there. Was that supposed to feel good?"

  "No," Prince growled with disgust. "When a man touches a woman… there." He swallowed, but he didn't back away from her. "It's a sensitive area. You have to treat it with care."

  "So you would rub me softly, with the pad of your finger?"

  "Yeah," he breathed. "Softly."

  "Which finger?" she asked. "Your thumb? Your index finger? Your middle finger? Is there a difference?"

  His eyes were foggy as they gazed at her. The fingers of his right hand trembled as they rested on her hip, like they were fighting to hold still. "With my index finger. You have most control over its dexterity."

  "Because you use it to write with? That makes sense."

  "Yeah." He swallowed and then gulped down another breath of air.

  "Would you make circles?" she asked. "Or a windshield wiping motion? Or something else?"

  "I…" He had to swallow again. His thumb was on the waistband of her bikini bottom. It made little circles just below her belly button.

  "Prince?"

  "Yeah, Gabs?"

  "I feel achy down there. Like I'm hot and swollen. That didn't happen before. Is that normal?"

  "Yeah, monkey." His thumb slipped inside the waist band and rubbed circles in her tight curls. "That's perfectly normal."

  Gabby felt it was safe to unlock her arms from his waist. With one hand she slipped one side of her bikini bottoms down and then the other until the garment hit the floor. "So there's nothing wrong with me?"

  "No, sweetheart," he sighed as he looked down at her bare torso. "You're perfect."

  Prince's thumb burrowed through her damp curls and found the hood of her bud. Gabby's knees buckled at the impact of his rough finger pad. Prince caught her with his free arm.

  "I feel like I need to lay down," she said.

  Prince scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the couch. The moment her butt made impact with the cushion, Gabby spread her legs. Prince let out a chocked sound as he hovered over her, staring down at her bare sex.

  "What happens next?" she asked, running her bare toes along the cushion. She could feel his hot breaths cool her sex as he panted above her.

  Prince lifted his gaze to focus on her. His eyes cleared. Gabby froze for a moment. Had she made a miscalculation?

&n
bsp; "You need to learn how to do this for yourself," he said finally.

  Gabby breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Show me."

  Prince swallowed. He took a deep breath and let it out, and then he reached for her. With one hand on each thigh, he opened her legs wider. His gaze was cool and assessing.

  "This is your clitoris. Your bud is average size so you don't need a firm touch. Just light circles in a clockwise motion-"

  "Like this?" Gabby reached down and swirled her index finger around her swollen bud. It didn't feel as good as when Prince had briefly touched it with the pad of his large thumb. But having his eyes on her was bringing her to her climax quicker than when she touched herself in the dark of her dorm room with him in her mind.

  "Good girl," whispered Prince. "Just like that." He pressed her thighs open wider, stretching her labia apart, pulling at the hood surrounding her bud.

  His hot exhale against her swollen bud made her belly tighten. His slow inhale while his gaze fixed on the juices running down her legs made her core clench.

  "Prince…" she moaned.

  "Keep circling, monkey. Let it happen."

  And so she did. She let the waves of sensation build inside her. She let that spring that resided in the center of her belly coil around until her toes began to curl and her breathing shallowed.

  "A little faster. That's a good girl."

  Her hips were now lifting off the cushion as she made passes over her bud. She wanted to press her legs together to help relieve some of the tension, but Prince's grip on her was absolute.

  "Slow down, monkey."

  "I don't want to."

  "Trust me."

  Gabby was used to having her own way. Prince was one of the people who typically gave it to her. But the soft plea in his voice had her fingers slowing down their motion. And the effect of the halted progress shattered her.

  Slowing down her touch made the orgasm come at her even faster. But as it came for her, it built up steam, like a snowball rolling down a mountain. It picked up other snow, packing it on until it was a boulder that came rushing down the north face.

  The orgasm knocked her back. Her hips arched off the couch. Her back bowed. Her heels dug into the couch cushions. A desperate gasp escaped her lungs. She had to shut her eyes to try to contain some sense of herself. Behind her eyelids, she saw stars and colors collide, reform, and then burst.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Prince. He was staring at her with a look in his eyes she'd never seen before. Was this it? Was he finally coming to understand that they were meant to be? Was he finally realizing that he loved her?

  Not in the way that he'd loved her as a child. Not the adoration he showed her as a little girl. Was he finally seeing her as the woman that she was, the woman who was meant for him?

  Gabby raised her hand to his cheek. His upper body shook on its impact. He inhaled and his eyes grew larger. He turned his face to her fingers. He swallowed once, twice. Then he opened his mouth and attacked her index finger.

  He pulled it into his mouth and sucked. His eyes closed and he sucked her finger. A groan sounded deep inside and still he continued to suck. He let go of her finger with a long lick.

  Then his head slowly turned back to her, back to the core of her. He took one breath, and then he was on her.

  His mouth latched on to her entire core. His tongue worked in circles, figure eights, and a back and forth motion that had Gabby trembling.

  He let go, coming up for air, and her hips followed him. He dipped his head and lapped up the juices that had spilled down her thighs. He suckled first the right and then the left labia. He stuck his tongue deep inside her virgin hole, swirling and burrowing until another orgasm made its way up the hill. It picked up speed and then crashed into her so hard that she wrapped her thighs around Prince's head.

  Prince patiently unfolded her thighs' grip from his head. All the while not breaking the hold his mouth had on her. He moved his attentions up to her clitoris. He made that same pattern of circles, eights, and swipes at her bud. He sucked on her until Gabby was a writhing mess and a third orgasm rolled through her body.

  The third one shook her so hard her eyes teared. She closed her legs, placing a protective hand at the apex of her thighs. She curled into a fetal position as the pleasure continued to assault her in aftershocks.

  "Fuck," she heard Prince whisper. "Fuck."

  Yes, she thought. That's exactly what she wanted. For her Prince to fuck her. She rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the man of her dreams, the man she knew she was born to spend the rest of her life with. She smiled up at him, intoxicated by his touch, under the influence of his tongue, and punch drunk with pleasure.

  But Prince was not grinning. He wasn't even smiling. His hands were in his tightly curled hair. His eyes were filled with horror. His mouth was set in a grim line.

  "What did I just do?" His voice was hoarse, and the words were forced.

  Gabby blinked, trying to make her mind understand what could possibly be the matter. But her limbs still weren't working properly. She couldn't hold herself up, much less sit up.

  "I don't know what came over me," he said as he backed away from her. His movements staggering and uncoordinated, like he was drunk as well.

  Gabby opened her mouth, but her throat was raw from all the moaning. She couldn't form words to stop his hasty retreat. She couldn't reach out to grab him as he backed away from her.

  "I'm so sorry, Gabby. That will never happen again."

  He turned out the door and was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Three years later…

  Race tracks were a series of right turns. Prince liked curves, but he preferred to go down the straight and narrow. That way, when he rode his bike, he could truly open up the throttle and let out some speed. Though he liked a straight shot, he also liked to turn left every once in a while.

  "As you can see, Agent Obademi, there's actually nothing to see."

  Prince turned to the police officer. The man was in his dark blue uniform while Prince was in his standard issue Men-In-Black suit. He even wore tinted sunglasses. He looked every bit Will Smith's Agent J from the cult classic. Only Prince really did make the shit look good.

  Despite what the cop said, Prince walked over to the guardrail of the racetrack and took a closer look. The scorch marks from the accident were still visible in the wall where one race car had slammed. That car had caught fire, and they'd had only moments to pull the driver from the burning vehicle.

  Prince clenched his fingers into a tight fist, saying a quick prayer of thanks that the driver had been pulled out. He had his life, but it had come at a cost. He would be recovering in the hospital for a few days longer.

  "We investigated," said the officer. "There was no sign of criminal intent. I don't understand why the FBI has been sent in?"

  "The reports indicate that one racer intentionally bumped Mr. Trent's car," said Prince.

  "Bump and runs happen all the time in racing, even in NASCAR. Doesn't make it a crime."

  Bumping was when a car that was behind tapped the car in front of it causing the lead car's rear tires to lose traction and spin out. The bump cleared the way for the trailing car, allowing it to run on ahead.

  As a policeman, the officer would be familiar with the technique as law enforcement often used the maneuver in high-speed chases. With a gentle tap, the driver of the bumped car is forced to either slow down, stop, or try to correct his steering.

  Prince had viewed the event footage. The tap hadn't been gentle, and it caused Christopher Trent's car to spin out of control. Unable to correct, he slammed into the wall.

  The maneuver was unsportsmanlike, but not illegal. The other racer had paid a fine and would be sitting out the next race. But Prince was more interested in what happened before the race.

  "There are reports that the other driver…" Prince looked down at his paperwork. "Roman Voigt, and his crew, the Henchmen, were yelling racial epithets
at Mr. Trent and his crew, the Watchers."

  The policeman shrugged. "They were shouting at each other. Calling someone names isn't a crime last time I checked."

  The officer was wrong. Yelling racial slurs prior to, during, or immediately after committing a crime did break a law. As an agent in the Civil Rights Division of the FBI that focused on Hate Crimes, these were the bad guys that Prince went after on a daily basis.

  "The Henchmen race with a confederate flag on their hood." It wasn't a question. Prince had seen the photographic evidence.

  "Again," said the police, "free speech. Not that I agree with it." He pressed his pale hands to his chest in affront. "But they have the right to fly the flag. I have the right to think those boys are little shits. But that doesn't mean I can arrest them just because I believe they are shits."

  "The Henchmen also use a sign that's historically associated with hate." Embedded in the flag on the race car was a Nazi Swastika. "They use a name associated with a racist group, and they were shouting racial epithets at the victim and his friends before an assault with a deadly weapon. That's grounds for investigation. That's why I'm here."

  "From what I understand, they were yelling racist stuff at the Latino, Asian, and black guy," said the officer. "Christopher Trent, the one they call Crow, you know he's white, right?"

  "Yeah, I know he's white." Prince had known Crow since he was a kid. Crow was one of his brother, Eagle's, best friends. As a young man, Crow and the other boys of the Watchers Crew had spent many days and nights at the Obademi residence, making this case somewhat personal.

  "Can you be racist against white people?" asked the officer.

  "I'm going to need the reports from the race officials, the video and photo evidence," said Prince.

  "You can get those from the track's office." He pointed to an office building overlooking the track.

  "I also need to put out a call for the spectators to send their cell phone video footage, especially of the scuffle beforehand."