Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

“You didn’t promise.” Did she think he wouldn’t notice?

  She took a long pull of her drink. “Fine. I promise.” She plopped back down on the sofa. “It’s not as though I would be able to kill someone anyway. Even if he does deserve it.”

  “It’s not as simple as killing him.” He’d fantasized about it plenty, though. “If something happens to Sucre, someone will kill my grandmother. I’m not Sucre’s only muscle, you know. I’m the best, but the boss has made it very clear he has people in place to execute his final wishes. He sends me pictures of her almost every day to remind me. Once, he sent me a piece of her fucking nightgown. If I run, she dies. If I kill him, she dies. Otherwise, I’d have taken the sick fucker out years ago.”

  The cold, hard pressure of the ice against his face sent sharp spikes of pain into his head, but he pushed down the discomfort. “I’ve done so much to keep her safe, I can’t give up now. It has to mean something. She’s comfortable now, but she’s still exposed. I can’t get her free until I save enough money to get her in a good facility, somewhere Sucre can’t get to her. My goal was fifty thousand. I always thought I’d go with her, start my life over somewhere. Now, with you—”

  He sighed. “If I stay here, there needs to be enough money to take care of her the rest of her life. And I have to figure out which assholes at Magnolia Green are on Sucre’s payroll. If the wrong person tips him off I’m pulling her out, we’ll both be dead before we’re out of the city.”

  The corners of her mouth drooped as she set her drink on the coffee table. “Do you have any happy memories? Has this man stolen your entire life from you?”

  He set the ice in his lap, then used his palms to pick up the drink and take a sip. It tasted like almost pure corn syrup. Gross. He cringed as he put the ice back on his face. “I can’t blame him for every bad thing in my life. My dad was an addict. He would’ve been an addict whether Sucre was his dealer or it was some other guy on the street. Kids with a drugged-out parent always have it rough. There’s never enough money, never enough food.” He shrugged. “But there were some good times. Before my mom died, sometimes she’d sing to me or take me to the park. She worked a lot, but I loved her.”

  He furrowed his brow, trying to grasp a memory. “One time, she bought me a little red toy racecar. I must have been about six or seven. I was so proud of that thing. I carried it everywhere.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  He shrugged. “My father stepped on it barefoot in the middle of the night once. Threw it against the wall. I should’ve put it somewhere safe.”

  Olivia’s eyes were wet, but her tears didn’t fall. He was grateful for the small mercy. Her tears might break his heart in a way he’d successfully avoided for years.

  She nestled back into his side, her hand resting over his heart. In minutes, her breathing shifted to the heavy rhythm of sleep. It was after two o’clock. The poor thing was exhausted.

  Climbing to his feet, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her room. The bed was a double; it would be a tight fit, but they could both squeeze in. He noticed the indention on the right side of the mattress, so he placed her there and climbed in beside her. He barely had to wait a second before she rolled up next to him, curled against his side.

  He had never slept with anyone before. He’d had sex, sure, but he’d never spent the night in a woman’s bed.

  As Olivia tangled her smooth legs with his and threw her arm across his waist, he was glad she’d be the first. Somehow, he suspected it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.

  Chapter 23

  Liv

  Liv woke up Saturday morning in the pale light of dawn with a blazing heat against her back and an iron band around her waist. For a moment, she froze. Then Jonathan’s breath fanned in her ear. She recognized the crisp hair of his leg rubbing against hers, and his stone-hard arousal nestled against her ass.

  She wiggled her backside, and he groaned.

  “You’re teasing me on purpose.”

  Laughing, she rolled over to see him. His face looked worse than it had been the night before. Bruises had time to fully bloom on his skin, and none of the swelling had gone down. She should have made him hold the ice on it longer. Biting her lip, she held her fingers over his cheek, but didn’t touch. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be a badass every single second.”

  Pulling himself to a sitting position, he revealed the pillowcase he’d slept on was now dotted with dried blood. “I’m sore, but I’m feeling better than I did last night.”

  She ran her fingertips over his swollen face, but he didn’t flinch. “You ready to give the shower a try?” She slid out of the bed and walked around to his side. “Put your arm around my shoulder. We’ll do it together.”

  Gritting his teeth, he did as she asked. Carefully, they moved into the small bathroom. Even a fraction of his weight on her shoulders felt like carrying a boulder.

  He leaned against the door frame as she turned on the spray.

  “Can I, um, help you with your shorts?” She gestured vaguely at the only clothes he had on his body.

  He guarded his expression as he nodded, and averting her eyes, she gently eased them down. “You’re killing me, Livie,” he moaned.

  Blushing hotly, she stood and forced her gaze to stay on his face. “Let me help you in.”

  He didn’t move. “You’re keeping your clothes on?” He scowled. “Every time I’ve ever thought about showering with you, both of us were naked.”

  She chuckled at the trace of whine in his voice. “Hush.” She wrapped her arm behind his back and pulled him toward the bathtub where the shower ran. He allowed her to help him inside and groaned when he stepped under the spray.

  Even though she was in the shower with him, Liv stayed mostly dry. Jonathan’s big body blocked the water. She grabbed the soap and got to work, gently massaging the Dove bar into suds on his back, shoulders, and arms. His muscles slowly relaxed under her fingers.

  “Turn around,” she whispered. Hard as she tried to prepare herself for the full-frontal view, she couldn’t help but suck in a breath when he faced her. She fought to keep her attention firmly above his waist. Remnants of the soap rinsing from his neck and back slid over his defined pecs and tangled in his chest hair.

  She stepped closer, and his eyes flared as she began to lather his chest. Her hands slid over his nipples and up to his collarbone. The last time she’d seen him without a shirt stayed burned into her memory, and seeing him this way, without even the sweatpants he’d worn before, threatened to stop her heart. The man’s body was perfectly made. His shoulders were broad. His chest and torso sculpted like a statue.

  Despite her resolve, her gaze slid down, and her soapy hand followed.

  He had a trim waist, and a narrow line of hair dipped down, leading the way to what was now a thick, proud erection.

  He shuddered as she took him in her hand. The skin of his cock was hot and smooth. The soap on her hands made the glide effortless, and she began to pump him.

  He swayed on his feet and closed his eyes. “Livie,” he groaned, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and let her have her way with his body.

  God, she wanted to fuck him. With every encounter, the need to feel him inside her grew. It reached a fever pitch now, feeling the weight of him in her hand, knowing how he’d fill the aching void between her legs.

  He’d recovered some since the night before, but he was still hurt. He couldn’t touch her; he could barely even move his hands.

  His pleasure would be her pleasure.

  She tightened her hand and pumped harder. Faster.

  Her own arousal was getting harder to ignore. She squeezed her thighs together involuntarily. Much more of this and she’d have to use her other hand on herself.

  “Let me take care of you,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she ran her tongue along the pulse
of his neck.

  His body tensed against her, and he came with a shout.

  Her hand relaxed, but she didn’t let him go until he pulled away. She felt breathless, needful. But there would be no help for it. She’d brought this on herself.

  Laughing softly, she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out. “I guess you can rinse the front now.”

  ***

  Brick

  As sluggish as he’d felt when he woke up, Brick was wide awake after his shower. His face still ached, and he still couldn’t close his fat fingers into a fist, but who the fuck cared when he could still feel Olivia’s fingers wrapped around his cock?

  She changed her clothes while he shuffled to the sofa in a towel. He’d gotten jizz all over her pajamas, which he should probably feel guilty about, but he couldn’t regret what they’d just shared.

  Olivia was already in a pair of soft shorts and a t-shirt heading toward him before he could sit down. “Wait. I’ve got some clothes for you.” He stopped his descent into the cushions and waited while she pulled a set of clothes from her small laundry room. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

  She held a pair of his jeans, boxer briefs, and a t-shirt. They were all folded neatly.

  How did she…oh, yeah. He’d left them in her dryer after the storm that night.

  “I can do it.” He held out his hand, but when she offered the clothes out to him, he couldn’t get a grip. They tumbled to the floor.

  Immediately, she knelt and scooped them up. “Let me help you, Jonathan.”

  His name on her lips melted his insides every time. He braced his hand on her shoulder and stepped into the underwear she held open at his feet. Once she got them to his knees, he pulled them the rest of the way into place with his thumbs. “I don’t care about the clothes.”

  Her eyes flared as her gaze skittered across his bare chest. Thank God. She wanted him too.

  He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I want to finish what we started, but I want to do it right.” Trailing his hand down to her collarbone, he rubbed across it, and her nipples pebbled in response.

  Grasping his hand as gently as she could, she pulled it toward her and kissed the pad of each finger. “We have all the time in the world. I can be patient.”

  “Or.” He licked his lips. “You could let me take the edge off.” Without waiting for a response, he leaned in for a kiss.

  She shivered beneath him as he licked over her bottom lip, then bit it gently.

  “Let’s go back to your bed.”

  Liv led him to her private space, the need he saw in her eyes during the shower glowing brighter than ever.

  “I want to see you. Show me your body. Let me worship you.” She deserved so much more than a wreck like him, but this was something he could do. He could serve her like the goddess she was.

  Her eyes closed as she tugged her T-shirt over her head. Her full breasts called out to be touched. If only his fucking hands would work.

  “Shorts too,” he growled. “Then get on the bed.” His cock was already waking again despite the pleasure it had just spent.

  Pushing them down slowly, Olivia revealed the heaven he’d only dreamt of. Fully nude, she was perfection. Freckles dotted her pale shoulders, but the rest of her skin was a sea of peaches and cream. She stepped backward toward the bed, then lay down, waiting for him to give her what she so clearly craved.

  His hungry gaze locked between her legs. The thin strip of blond hair covering her mound ended at the top of her slit. Beneath, she was totally bare. Her pussy was already wet and gleaming, the moisture seeping down to the sheets below.

  He couldn’t wait another second. He needed to taste her, to drive her crazy with the same pleasure she’d given him.

  Climbing onto the bed, he positioned himself between her legs, his face, a fraction of an inch from the place he craved most. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his breath hot on her private flesh.

  Her pussy clenched.

  “So pink.” He ran his thumb up her slit. “So smooth.”

  She squirmed beneath his touch.

  He chuckled. “And so impatient.” Using both thumbs, he spread her lips apart and slipped his tongue between her folds. He wanted to make his movements slow and teasing, but her taste drove him wild. He speared his tongue inside her, the way he wanted to thrust inside her with his cock.

  But this wasn’t about him. It was about her. Forcing himself to slow, he lapped at her wetness, reveling at the tiny noises escaping the back of her throat.

  He raised his head, his thumb rubbing slowly over her clit. “Tell me what you want.”

  She groaned. “I want you. I want everything.”

  Everything. He wanted it too. Her words made his heart race, but he wasn’t sure if it was from excitement, fear, or some combination of the two.

  Ignoring the ache in his hands, he lifted her ass off the bed. His tongue swept over her asshole. Circled it. Then dove back into her wet heat. He fucked her with his mouth. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  “Touch yourself, Livie. My hands don’t work, but yours do. Make yourself come while I taste you.”

  Her hand shot straight to her center, separating her folds, finding the treasure within.

  He didn’t move for a few seconds. His eyes locked on the movement of her fingers. How they disappeared inside her to emerge covered in her own silky essence, then rose to the hidden pearl above.

  His head dropped between her thighs again, and his lips brushed her skin as he spoke. “Ride my tongue, baby. You’re not going to hurt me.”

  Her knees fell open as his tongue speared deep. She quickly found her rhythm, her middle and index fingers circling her clit, while her hips rose and fell with each stroke. She did as he instructed, meeting each thrust of his tongue with abandon.

  No one had ever made him burn this way before. There was nothing else in the world but this woman and the orgasm building between her legs.

  When the rising tide broke, she cried out his name, her muscles locking in place.

  He stayed motionless until the last shudder went through her body, then he climbed back to the top of the bed and opened his arms for her to collapse inside.

  Everything about the moment felt right. She was spent and satisfied…and he was responsible. Now he had her in his arms.

  They were together in her bed.

  If only they could stay this way forever.

  Chapter 24

  Brick

  The last thing Brick wanted to do was leave Olivia’s side, but he could only escape his real life for so long before it would seek him out. Better if he faced it head on—and he would in a few more minutes. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he let himself revel in this perfect moment.

  Would it?

  He’d thought falling asleep with her was extraordinary, but waking up with her was every bit as precious. Now she lay here next to him naked with perfect trust.

  When had anyone ever trusted him?

  The responsibility was staggering. It was foreign, a gift.

  Eventually, he pulled on his jeans, fumbling awkwardly with the zipper, then tugged on his t-shirt. It occurred to him quickly he had no shoes, no truck, and no wallet to get himself home.

  Fuck.

  It would take at least an hour to walk to his place, and doing it barefoot would destroy his feet. Shame tainted the amazing morning he’d had as he returned to Olivia’s bedroom to wake her up. “Livie?”

  “Mmmm,” she hummed and turned toward his voice. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled at his ugly face. “Morning, baby.” Her lower lip stuck out as she took in his fully dressed state. “You’re leaving?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “I have to. Or they’ll start looking for me.”

  Her teasing pout turned into a real frown.

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t have a way to get home, though. I hate to ask, believe me, but do you think your brother would give me a ride?”

>   “Are you kidding? You want to explain to Will you spent the night, or should I?” Olivia rolled her eyes. “Grab my purse off the kitchen counter.”

  “No way. I’m not taking your money.”

  She climbed out of bed without a hint of modesty and swiped her purse from the kitchen. She fished out a twenty-dollar bill and folded it into his hand. “I don’t care about the money, Jonathan. There’s plenty of other stuff to worry about.” She sighed. “I hate the idea of you going back there.”

  His heart warmed at her concern. “I’ll be okay. But I’m going to pay you back.” He kissed her forehead, then ordered his ride. “Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

  With gentle fingers, she lifted his fucked-up hand to her lips and feathered it with kisses. “You never have to thank me. I’m glad Kane had the sense to call me when he found you. He is the one we should both be thanking.”

  “Trust me. I will. But Liv, this is important, we’re lucky he was the person who tracked you down. If you ever get a call from a number you don’t know, don’t answer it.”

  “But he called me from your phone.”

  He shook his head. “From now on, when I call, wait for me to talk first, okay? If it had been anyone else on the other end of the line, I don’t want to even think about what could have happened.” The horn honked outside, and he drew to his feet.

  Liv kissed his cheek as he headed for the car. He really did owe Kane for looking out for him. It seemed he didn’t only have one person who cared about him, but two.

  At least he didn’t have to worry his screwed-up life would be a threat to Kane Hale. That motherfucker could take care of himself.

  ***

  The driver dropped Brick at the gym, where Freddy had set aside his forgotten shoes and keys.

  “Where you been, man? Rumor mill’s been churning ‘bout you wiping out in the middle of the street. You all right?” Freddy wasn’t a bad guy, but you couldn’t find a bigger gossip around. If you wanted a story to spread, he was the guy to tell.