Beware

by Shanora Williams

  I pant as I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. He picks me up in his arms, both of us naked, chest-to-chest. Sliding the glass door open, we step into the warmth of the shower. The water runs between the contours and hills of our bodies; his lips surround my nipple again.

  I force his head up and kiss him. His groan is deep and guttural as he thrusts his thick cock against my stomach. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he says, after breaking the kiss.

  “You told me we were nothing,” I breathe then kiss the hollow of his neck.

  He grabs my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. “We’re something… just don’t know what.”

  “More than what you’re thinking, I’m sure.” I press my forehead against his shoulder. “I’m scared to say what I feel…”

  “Me too…” He lifts my chin, staring me in the eyes. “I’m gonna be gentle tonight… show you how I feel.”

  I nod as droplets of water collects on his eyelashes. “Okay,” I whisper.

  His words aren’t performed right away. He grabs a bar of soap and lathers it on me. I do the same to him, making sure I toy with his cock more than anything else. His eyes squeeze shut as I run the palms of my hands up and down his thick member. When I gently caress his balls, he brings his forehead down on mine, lips parted.

  “Too fucking good, Red.”

  I smile.

  And before he can come from my repeated strokes, I release him, and we rinse off. I reach for the nob of the shower and start to turn it off, but he blocks the way. Grabbing my hand, he brings my body into his. He lifts my leg effortlessly, turns around, and my back presses against the glass. He steps further between my legs, locking my face in his hands. Then he kisses me, so softly… so sweetly. I melt in his arms, my body begging for him to continue.

  He does just as I want him to, sliding his tongue between my lips to toy with mine. My moans grow thicker as he lowers one hand to fist his cock. He runs the tip between my folds, and I quake, biting my fingernails into his shoulder blades.

  I’m given no warning. In no time, he slides the tip of his cock into my pussy. My fingernails dig harder into his skin, our lips never parting. He’s going in little by little, making sure I feel every single inch of him. And I do. When he’s completely in, I know.

  I can feel him.

  He’s balls deep.

  Fuck.

  I break the kiss. “Fuck me,” I breathe. “Now.”

  He looks me in the eyes, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to fuck the shit out of you… but not right now.”

  His strokes are slow, but deep. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, grinding my hips with his. Lowering his head, he sucks on my neck while clutching my ass. I run my fingers through his wet hair, my neck exposed, face pointed towards the ceiling.

  “Oh, God,” I breathe. “Ace, I’m gonna… you’re about to make me come.”

  “Not yet, baby,” he breathes. “Look at me.”

  I lower my chin, meeting his eyes. I can’t look into those eyes for long. They’ll make me come on the spot, so I close them. But he demands that I open them back.

  With locked eyes, he picks up his speed. His slow strokes transition to full, quick thrusts. He grips my hips, and the glass rattles behind me as he brings me down harder and harder on his cock with each pump.

  I can’t take much more. I can feel it coming.

  I screech wildly as heat and moisture travel between my legs. I drench his cock with my juices as I bury my face into the hollow of his neck, and only seconds later, he does the same thing. His groan is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It’s heavy, and as he squeezes my ass, emptying himself inside me, the next groan is even heavier.

  I pant rigidly as my body dies down. My face is still buried in his neck, my heart racing like a wild butterfly. He sighs and lowers me to my feet. We wash once more, and he shuts the shower off.

  We dry off quickly, but as soon as we’re in the bed, he tells me to climb on top of him. I stare at him for a moment, watching as he fists himself with one hand, the other rested behind his head. He looks into my eyes, waiting for me to make a move.

  I sit up and straddle him, planting my palms on his chest. He stares up at me as I grind my ass on his groin. Leaning down, I kiss his forehead and then his cheek. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, but I continue. With my ass still planted on his groin, I carry my lips down to his jawline, then the crook of his neck. I kiss his each shoulder, his collarbone, and then the center of his chest. I drag my lips down his entire upper half, but before I can reach his cock, kiss him there, he sits up and flips me on my back.

  I gasp as he grips my wrists and locks them above my head. His eyes level with mine as he kisses my forehead, and then my cheek. He mimics my actions, dragging his lips down to my jawline, sucking on my neck and causing a tingle between my legs.

  He finally takes his eyes off of mine as he gets to my chest. He releases my wrists, gently lapping his tongue around each nipple. I pant as he sticks his tongue out and drags it down to my pelvis. He stops right there, breathing me in. I breathe uncontrollably, my hands still above my head.

  He lifts my legs and spreads them to kiss the inside of my thighs. I shiver, squeezing my eyes tight as the sensation makes my lower belly heat. With each kiss he’s getting closer and closer to my pussy. With each one, he’s going slower and slower, making my anticipation increase.

  With ease, he cups my ass with both hands, lifts my hips, and then buries his face into my pussy. I squeal as he devours me. This isn’t like how he’s done it before. Only the back of my head and the upper half of my back is on the bed. Everything else is in the air. He eats me like I’m a dessert he’s long awaited for. He grunts and groans, causing a vibration between my legs.

  “Shit,” I whisper, bucking against him. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  The more he sucks my nub, the more I feel it swelling in his mouth. I helplessly grind against his mouth, arching my back so only the back of my head is on the bed. He squeezes my ass then spanks it. I moan and gasp from the abruptness. I bring my hands up to toy with my nipples, and in response, he groans, “Mmm,” as if he’s been waiting on me to do that the whole time.

  I can’t keep this up anymore. I force my delicacies further into his face, and he sucks harder, using one hand to finger me. “Oh, Ace!” I breathe. My hips lock, my eyes roll to the back of my head, and a loud scream rips from my body.

  I shudder and quake, but he doesn’t stop, not until I’ve completely released myself.

  He lowers my lower half back on the bed, and I bring my head back down, panting hard as I shut my eyes. He places kisses on my thighs again, then brings himself up to hover above me. Licking his lips, he stares down at me and runs his thumb across my jawline. In his eyes, I can see what he wants to say. I can almost hear it scratching at his throat… but I know he won’t say it first.

  And I fear saying it myself.

  We shouldn’t feel this way about each other. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t care about him.

  Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away before he can see them. Unfortunately, he already has. “Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Please. Not tonight.”

  Hearing him beg me not to cry really sets the waterworks off. He moves to my side, and I bury my face into his chest. I heave and hiccup, hating this situation. Why him? Why now? He kisses my temple, and my tears grow thicker. Why can’t he be a normal guy with a normal lifestyle? Why can’t he be someone I met a long time ago? Why does loving him have to be lethal? A risk?

  “I wanna change for you…” Ace murmurs.

  Yeah. And I want him to, too. But I know he won’t. I can tell by the way he left his sentence unfinished.

  He releases a heavy sigh, draping an arm around me. Soon, my tears stop, but my heart doesn’t stop hurting.

  Tomorrow is the end. He and I both know it.

  And neither of us is ready for it.

  ***

  Later that night, as we lay curled
on the sofa, legs locked, and my head on his chest, I can’t help but think of what the future brings for us. Will we be able to work this out? Will whatever he has to tell me be easily forgiven?

  Ace shifts on the sofa, bringing his glass of bourbon to his lips. After taking a sip, he sighs, and I look up. He looks down at me, and I bring my hand up, running it across the scar on his forehead. It’s not too noticeable, but up close, I can see it was a deep wound.

  “What happened here?” I ask.

  “Some bitch hit me upside the head with a glass bottle.” He smirks down at me.

  I shake my head, fighting a smile. “Who?”

  “Well… at one point I called him my dad.”

  My lips part.

  He continues with, “But when I got old enough to understand certain things, he was just Bruce to me. A fucked up, bitter old man.”

  “How can you say that about your dad?” I ask.

  He stretches his arm, placing his empty glass on the coffee table. After swallowing hard, he says, “He left my mom when she told him she had pancreatic cancer.”

  “Why?” I whisper.

  “He told her he couldn’t lay in bed with a sick woman. I was there, and I saw him pack his shit and leave. And that very day, I lost all respect for him.”

  I swallow thickly, unsure of what to say.

  He runs his thumb across my shoulder, staring down as he creates circles with his finger. “There was a point in time when I looked up to my dad though, not even gonna lie. It was when I was fifteen. He took me on one of his business trips… a Crow trip. It was on a boat. I’d always wanted to be on one and finally was. I watched as he ran everything, told his men what to do, and they all took his orders without question. I admired the way he stayed calm under pressure, and even how he talked to the people that owed him. He started taking me on more and more trips so I’d realize what needed to be done when I took over one day. I learned a lot from him and my uncle.” His throat works up and down. “But my uncle is a completely different story.”

  “What happened with your uncle? You mean Bianca’s dad, right?”

  He nods. “He wasn’t always a bad guy. Bianca and I grew up together, but she never wanted anything to do with the business. He tried forcing her into it so his name could carry on in the business too… so he could have some kind of mark on the business and not just my dad. They made it a competition. When Bianca turned eighteen, Uncle Drake went crazy. He started hitting her and her mom, and soon, the abuse turned into murder.”

  I gasp.

  “He killed her mom when she was eighteen. She didn’t know how to handle it, so she went to him with one of his guns, called my dad, and told her what she was about to do.”

  “She… killed him?” I ask, barely in a whisper.

  “No. My dad did. Hated himself for it ever since, but it was business. Uncle Drake was getting greedy and dirty. He was getting selfish and lost respect for his family. I knew he’d gone off the deep end because once you stop caring about the one you love—your own daughter—you don’t give a shit about anything else. The business got to his head. My dad let him handle a few things here and there so he could feel like he was still part of the business, and he handled things well, but he wanted more. Bruce hated that he had to put him down. But if he didn’t do it that day, things would’ve only gotten worse. That night, when he killed Uncle Drake, it was a matter of business over personal life. He cared about the business more. He couldn’t have Uncle Drake ruin it.

  “Bianca was already like a sister to me, but after that, we grew even closer. I defended her like I did no one else. I’m really overprotective when it comes to her. I know she sticks around to keep me sane, but the older we get, I know she’ll only put up with so much. She hates Crow. She hates how much hate, destruction, and death it brings. She’s always hated it, but me… I loved it. I love bossing motherfuckers around. I loved having a team. I loved making money. I loved finally being in charge of my life. Not only was Bianca’s dad abusive, but so was mine. He hurt me, sometimes for no reason. He slapped me around, threw shit at me, but I always kept my head up.

  “When he died, I didn’t go to his funeral. I’d lost all respect for him by that age. I was twenty-two. As soon as the business was in my name, I got a new team, found a new location here, and since then, business has been going well. Nothing could stop me. I loved what I did, but the deeper we got into it, the more I realized Crow only brought us evil. I realized…” he swipes his nose. “I realized that… I was turning into them. My uncle and my dad. I realized it last night when I told Bianca I’d… kill her.” He shakes his head. “I fucked up, man. So bad. That’s why I need to get out. This business— this lifestyle—it’ll taint you. It’ll make you do shit you never thought you’d do, just for a little chump change. The money is good, yeah, but I always ask myself is it worth my life? Is this business worth my life? Or losing the people I love? Is the money and the business more important than living my life without fear?”

  I whip my head up, meeting his eyes. He gazes down at me, his honey eyes locking with mine. “There’s so much shit I regret,” he says, cupping my face, “and I’m sure those regrets will continue to haunt me. But when it comes to you, I want no regrets. I don’t want anything on my conscience. If you do leave, I don’t want you to go unless you know everything. I won’t be able to live knowing there’s something I could’ve done, but I didn’t do it because I was too much of a coward to speak up. I’m not my father. I’m not a bitch. The only time I’ll leave the woman I love alone is if she wants me to. Because I’ll have no choice but to respect that. I’ll sacrifice it all for you, London. I’ll give it all up… for you. I’ll be broke for you… I’d… die for you.”

  My lips part, and he takes advantage of my trance because he leans down and presses his warm lips against mine. Drawing me in, he clutches me against him, bringing his hands up to cup my jawline. His tongue slides through my lips and, tongue-tied, he brings me even closer, causing a mass of delicious warmth to course through my body. My heart flutters in my chest as he pants, kissing me hard.

  And this kiss… it’s almost like it’s hurting him but pleasing him all at the same time. It’s like it hurts to be this close to me. Like it hurts to tell me how he felt. I admit, it hurts to know that it hurts. That he’s never felt anything like this. It scares me because it scares him.

  This… it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  Him… he’s like a drug. I’m addicted.

  He’s addicted.

  We’ve both just overdosed.

  And right now, I’d do anything to hold onto that feeling. I want nothing to ruin this. I don’t want tomorrow to destroy what we have. I want to ignore the past and focus on the future. I don’t want the truth if the truth means not having him.

  I’d sacrifice that. The truth and the past for this.

  For this love. This rare kind of love.

  I usually enjoy the sunrise, especially when it comes to living in New York. But today… I loathe it. I want the moon back. The previous night.

  I know what this day holds. It’s bitter, one I’m not looking forward to because by the end of the day, she probably won’t be here anymore. And I won’t stop her. I can’t. I have no right to.

  I’ll be honest; what I have to tell her is bad, but it’s not completely devastating. She’ll question things about herself, her life, and her brother, but she’ll get through it just like she does everything else. What I think she won’t get over, though, is the fact that I’ve lied to her. That I wasn’t honest with her from the start. That I hid something for so long just because I was being greedy.

  Getting to know her day by day took some of my selfishness away. I started caring… I felt bad for her. I felt bad for myself.

  Sighing, I stand from the bed, slip into my dress pants, and walk towards the bedroom door. I glance over my shoulder, watching as her bare back lifts up and down as she breathes. She’s lying on her stomach, the blanket coverin
g the curve of her ass. It’s early, and I don’t think she’ll be up for another two or three hours, so I’ll take this time to get my shit together… to think about how I can get her to stay here. With me.

  I didn’t want to admit it before, and it’s still hard to, but I need her here. I like that she’s here. I like being around her. With her, it’s not all business. There’s no stress. No worries. It’s just us.

  I got so used to her being here that I didn’t even think about how it would be when she left.

  Fuck.

  I enter the kitchen and start the coffee maker. As I pull down a mug, the bedroom door creaks open, and I pause, looking back. London steps out of the bedroom way earlier than I thought she would.

  My heart quickens as she walks my way, eyes sullen.

  I hate the gloomy look in her eyes. She knows what she’s in for.

  “Morning,” she whispers.

  “Morning,” I return, turning towards the coffee maker. I keep my back to her, afraid of what’s to come. After pouring myself a cup, I take a seat at the table, and London sits in the chair opposite of me, forcing a smile.

  “I’ve decided,” she starts, clearing her throat, “that I don’t want to hear the truth.”

  I thin my eyes at her, lowering my mug. “You deserve the truth.”

  “But I don’t want to hear it… I don’t want anything to change… between us.”

  I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair. “Can’t go on with lies and questions stuck between us, London. You know that.”

  “I can overlook them, or find out later. Just… not now.”

  “But I can’t. Now is the best time.”

  She blinks rapidly. “You’ve held it in for this long—”