Until Joe

by Smith, CP

  “I’m a realist,” Daddy returned, shrugging, tossing the check on the bed. “Spend the weekend with her if you want, but go back to Tennessee and that hole in the wall a rich man when you’re through with her. It’s a simple transaction, Mr. Rouger. One I’m sure even a man with your . . . business sense can appreciate.”

  My father might as well have struck me down like he had Calla. He’d just insinuated that Joe could use my body for the weekend before returning home with a boon for his troubles. I felt dirty, like a two-bit whore pimped out to the highest bidder. My blood pressure started to drop from the shock, and my head spun with the shame. He’d never made me feel special growing up, but somewhere deep down I’d held out hope he loved me in his own way. Now I knew I was wrong. Dead wrong. And the pain was indescribable.

  Joe remained quiet for a long moment, then he let me go and took the steps needed until he was standing directly in front of my father. He cocked his head to the side and began to size my father up. I held my breath and waited, all the while my bottom lip trembled as I tried to keep control of my composure. My father’s lack of everything a father should feel for his daughter was cutting invisible slices into my heart.

  Joe took so long to answer that my father shifted nervously under his perusal. That was a mistake on his part. Never show weakness. Stand firm. Don’t give an inch. Those were words he lived by, but for some reason, Joe had unnerved him.

  Joe saw it and grinned maliciously before reaching over and picking up the check. He looked down at it for a second, then reached up and stuffed it in the breast pocket of my father’s suit. “That hole in the wall, as you called it, taught me one thing that is clear you’ve never learned,” Joe mumbled with disdain.

  My father’s eyes darted to me then back to Joe. “And what’s that? That a B-cup doesn’t draw as many customers as a set of double Ds?”

  Joe flashed him a deadly look. “No. That happiness comes from within. You can be surrounded by wealth and all its trappings and never be happy, while those with barely two nickels to rub together have the riches of kings when they have someone in their life they truly love. That children are a blessing from God, and no matter how old they grow, they should be treated as such. That filth you just treated us to regarding your daughter? You need to know this is the only pass I’m gonna give you. Do it again, and my response will be different.” My father seemed bored by Joe’s insult and crossed his arms with an amused look on his face. I knew then Joe’s sons were blessed for having a father like Joe.

  Joe shook his head at my father’s indifference. “If you understood the barest hint of what I’m talking about,” he continued, nodding at the breast pocket where he’d stuffed the check, “you would know there isn’t enough money in the world that could buy me off.” He jerked his head at Devin while I reached out to steady my hand on a chair for support, and added in a low growling rumble, “Or buy him off, if that’s crossed your mind. Go back to Savannah, Mr. Armstrong. And do it knowing your daughter, who should mean the fucking world to you, is being well taken care of by a man who would move heaven and earth to make her happy.”

  Would move heaven and earth to make me happy?

  That was the final straw. I couldn’t hold back any longer. Between Joe’s declaration and my father’s humiliation, I was at my cotton-picking limit. I hiccupped a sob, then threw my hand over my mouth. Just like my father had, I’d let them see my weakness. Armstrongs weren’t supposed to show emotions. We were supposed to keep them hidden until we got home. No shouting in public. No displays of affection. Ladies were supposed to be ladies at all times. It had been drummed into our heads for so long that even now I abided by the rules of engagement when I wasn’t thinking. Be seen and not heard. Oh, how I hated those rules. But the knot that had formed in my chest needed to come out. It had to come out, or it would strangle me where I stood. Rules or not.

  Joe swung around at my smothered cry and started advancing on me. I thrust up my hands to stop him as I backed up, so I could get myself under control, but he ignored it and pushed through my raised arms until he was cupping my face and leaning his forehead against mine. When he whispered, “Breathe, baby,” I sucked in a deep breath and choked on another sob.

  While I tried to rein in what little I had left of my dignity, Devin barked out suddenly, “You both need to leave. Now!” shocking me out of my crying fit. I pushed away from Joe and tried to dry my eyes. I didn’t want my father to see me fall apart under any circumstance, especially when he was the cause, but nothing seemed to work. I tried taking deep breaths to stop looking like a ninny, then I realized I was doing it again: following the rules set down by my parents. Trying to make my father happy in hopes he’d care. Trying to make him love me. But I never would, that was glaringly clear after tonight, so I straightened my shoulders, looked him directly in the eyes, and let him see my hurt. See the irrevocable damage he’d caused me over the course of my lifetime.

  He held my gaze while tears I’d never allowed him to see, out of self-preservation, ran like a river down my face. He actually watched with a sense of fascination as they dripped and fell to the floor, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a flash of remorse cross his features as if it hurt him to see my pain. But it didn’t last long. Soon his eyes began to work, and I could see the moment a plan began to form. I had to swallow hard to keep from screaming at him.

  When Joe wrapped both his arms around my shoulders and drew me up against his hard chest, I leaned against him and held on to his arms for support. Still, my father watched me, his eyes working something out as he looked between Joe and me. Then, without so much as a by-your-leave he nodded as if he’d come to a decision, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room. I collapsed fully against Joe the moment he was gone, but I wasn’t relieved it was over. Far from it. I knew Preston Armstrong. He never gave up. Which meant this wasn’t over by a long shot. As much as it killed me, I knew what I had to do to protect Joe. It was a fantasy to think I could ever find love. Not while my father was still alive.

  Devin yanked Jessie off the floor, where he’d been trying to clear his head. Once he was on his feet, he glared at Joe and me, then shoved Devin in the shoulder with his own before exiting the room behind my father.

  When Devin turned back to me with concern masking his features, I smiled so he wouldn’t worry. He had enough on his plate trying to keep my niece wrangled; he didn’t need to worry about me too. Eunice and I had been on our own since we were eighteen. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” they say. I’m still standing, so it must be true.

  He moved in front of me and drew me into his arms, kissing my head, then leaning in closer before he whispered, for my ears only, “Love you, Bernice. Calla wouldn’t be the woman she is if not for you. Remember that when he kicks you in the gut like that. You’re worth more than a million Preston Armstrongs any day of the week.”

  I thanked God every day my father hadn’t run Devin off, but I supposed saving your granddaughter and the heir to your entire fortune from certain death, twice, earned you a free pass.

  The floodgates opened then, at his heartfelt compliment. Devin turned me into Joe’s waiting arms before he exited the room and shut the door behind us.

  I clutched onto Joe for support and let all the pain go. I had to get it out so I could walk away from him. I had no choice. As much as I wanted to explore a relationship with him, I had to protect him from my father and whatever he had planned.

  _______________

  Joe held on tightly while Bernice cried. It took every ounce of will he had not to knock Preston Armstrong to the ground, old man or not, but it wasn’t what Bernice needed, nor would it have helped the situation, except to lower his damn blood pressure.

  He tried to wrap her up tighter in his hold, whispering calming words as she let go, but she stiffened in his arms and tried to pull back, tried to pull away from him physically and emotionally. He wasn’t about to let her go though. Not now. Not ever.

 
“I need to leave,” she hiccupped in his chest, the sound muffled against his skin. “This was a mistake.”

  Joe tightened his hold at her words. “Life’s full of mistakes, but this isn’t one of them. Not if it’s something you want.”

  She seemed to collapse against him, rubbing her forehead against his chest. “What I want has never been in the cards for me. As long as Eunice and I didn’t cause a family scandal, he left us alone. He sees me hooking up with a strip club owner as the greatest of offenses to the family name, Joe. He’ll never back down. Never stop. If he can’t get rid of you by attacking you personally, then he’ll find your weakness and go after that until he wins.” She looked up at him finally, and it gutted him to see the defeat in her eyes. “I can’t let you do it. I won’t let you lose everything because of me. I’m not worth it.”

  Anger coursed through his veins, swift and hot. He clenched his jaw to rein in his control, but he wasn’t quick enough and ended up backing Bernice into the wall so he could keep her pinned until he sorted her head out. Preston Armstrong was not going to win this fight. Not while Joe had breath still left in his lungs. “We’ll get back to the shit you just handed me, but right now, I’m telling you he’s just a fucking man. He doesn’t control me or you unless we let him.”

  Bernice stared at Joe as if he’d grown two heads. It was infinitely better than the defeat he’d seen. “He never loses, Joe. Never.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what he has or hasn’t done in the past. This doesn’t concern him. This is about you and me and what we want. He’s only one man.”

  She blinked at him, then raised her hands and tried to push him back. He didn’t budge, wouldn’t move until she saw reason. “Don’t you get it? There isn’t a you and me because of him,” she answered on a shout.

  He leaned down and got right in her face, pressing her body fully against the wall, one hand near her waist, the other next to her head so he had full control. “Bullshit,” he hissed. “We may have found each other less than twenty-four hours ago, but you’re lying to yourself if you think there isn’t an us. There’s been an us for twelve fucking months.”

  Her eyes softened minutely as she stared at him. Then she finally nodded. “Yes, there’s an us. But, Joe, I’m not worth all this trouble.”

  Fucking hell!

  Pissed she’d utter those words again, Joe yanked her from the wall until she was up on her tiptoes and right in his face. “That’s the second time you handed me that shit, and it’s the last time I wanna hear it coming out of your mouth. I’ve got a good idea where it stems from, and you need to let it die. He’s a shit father. The only one in this situation who isn’t good enough is him. He’s had beauty within his reach your whole life, and he pissed it away for the sake of power. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

  She jerked her head back, her eyes closing in slow motion. The pain she must have carried deep inside washed across her face, painting a heartbreaking picture of what he figured had been a lifetime of neglect. Joe was amazed Bernice and Eunice had turned out as strong as they had after what they’d endured at the hands of that asshole. He’d had dancers in his employ with less baggage.

  “Joe—”

  He cut her off before she could finish. Just as Ray had predicted, Preston Armstrong had blown in like a hurricane. It was time to be the lighthouse in her storm. “I’m not walking away, and I’m not letting you walk away. He can do whatever the fuck he wants, but it won’t stop me.”

  She searched his face, indecision written in every line of her porcelain skin. “Why? Why put yourself through that?”

  Joe tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her mouth up to his. “Because of this,” he mumbled low and husky, then slammed his mouth over hers, claiming it. “Men die for this,” he breathed against her lips, tilting her head so he could have deeper access to her mouth. “Kill for it,” he growled, backing her into the wall, plunging his tongue into her sweetness. Deeply. Possessively.

  She managed to break free from the assault and gasped, “Joe—” all while drawing him in closer. He knew then that he had her. That he’d broken through her wall to keep him at arm’s length.

  He reached up and cupped her chin to silence her. She was breathing heavy, and her eyes were hooded. She felt it as much as he did, the connection that arced between the two of them like a live wire. “I’m not letting you walk away.” He whispered this, raking his thumb across her bottom lip. She responded on contact, nipping the end of his finger without knowing she’d done it. Bernice was by far the most responsive woman he’d ever been with; further confirmation they were meant for each other. “I told you before I’d drag you back until your head was on straight. If that doesn’t work, I’ll use my hand on your ass as well.”

  Bernice blinked, stared at him for a quick second, and then melted into him, responding to his threat with a very breathy, “Oh, my.”

  Fuck him. Prim and proper Bernice Armstrong liked it rough.

  “You better fucking believe it.”

  He was done talking. Dealing with her father had him on edge. He needed to work it out on her body, so he ran his hands down her arms until he felt the bottom of the T-shirt she wore and grabbed the hem, whisking it over her head in a single tug.

  She gasped, “Joe—” again with that breathy quality that drove him wild, but he ignored her protest. She may want to argue about ending things for his protection, but he was done. No man had ever controlled his life, and he wasn’t going to start now. There is nothing on earth more powerful than a man in pursuit of a woman he wants. Preston Armstrong may have an abundance of money, but Joe was far richer where it counted: integrity, strength of will, and an unyielding passion to possess the beauty in his arms. Nothing Armstrong threw at Joe would matter. Not when his entire future was hanging in the balance.

  He drew her bathing suit bottoms down with a swipe of his hand, then kicked out one of her legs. Bernice didn’t protest his aggressive actions nor struggle when he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back with a gentle tug. He watched her face for signs she was distressed but only found hooded eyes and full lips open with want, her breath coming in short pants as if his Neanderthal behavior turned her on.

  He focused on her plump lips. They were red from his beard and his previous assault on her mouth. He wanted to see them wrapped around his cock, sliding across the surface of his shaft as he fucked her mouth, but that would have to come later. He took a deep breath through his nose to control the urge to push her to her knees so she could suck him off. He wanted her writhing first. Coming apart at the seams.

  Crashing his mouth over hers, Joe slid his hand down her stomach and through the small thatch of curls between her legs until the heat of her body engulfed his fingers. He grunted in approval when he found her wet. He speared into her silken flesh, catching her whimper with his mouth as his thumb found her clit and rolled. She jerked on a gasp before threading her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. He applied more pressure then, and she lit up like she’d been dead all her life, bucking and grinding herself on his hand.

  “This is why I won’t let you walk away,” Joe grunted when she grabbed his cock through his jeans and rubbed her palm down his shaft, “You were fuckin’ made for me.”

  He dropped to his knees, grabbing her leg and throwing it over his shoulder; then he buried his face between the ivory skin at her apex and fought a growl from crawling up his throat at the scent of her.

  Her hand held him in place while he devoured her very essence, memorizing the taste and the sounds spilling from her throat as he took her over the edge. He kept at her relentlessly, using his beard to torture her, drive her crazy with want, refusing to give an inch because he wanted her to come undone again. Wanted her crazy with need.

  “It’s too much,” she cried out when he coupled his fingers with his tongue. He growled in warning that he wouldn’t stop, deep satisfaction egging him on.

  When she began to sl
ide down the wall, he relented, but only to pick her up and carry her to the bed. He watched her glazed-over eyes as he popped the buttons on his jeans. She was exhausted, but they were still hungry, so he slid between her thighs and positioned his cock in her wet heat. Her hips lifted on contact, needing the connection as much as he did; he slid in slowly, filling her inch by inch until she was full of him. Then he began a fucking tortuous pace until her neck arched and her nails dug into his back, urging him to drive deeper. Faster.

  “Joe.”

  Breathy.

  Sexy.

  Fucking fantastic.

  “We ride this out until we’re done or we’re stuck like fucking glue,” Joe ordered, picking up the pace. “No turning back. We decide our future, not your father.”

  When her mouth opened but no sound came, he drove in deep and held. She clawed at him harder, then tipped her chin down and moaned, “Don’t stop.”

  “Say it,” he ordered.

  She was frantic for the building release, so she ignored him and reached down, grabbing his ass, rocking against him to find her climax, so Joe pulled out and held himself out of her grasp.

  “Joe!”

  “You want my cock, you fucking say it.”

  Her eyes shot to his in surprise. Instead of arguing with him like he expected, she reached up and pulled him down to her mouth and breathed across his lips, “We ride this out, no matter what my father throws at us.”

  Thank Christ!

  With that vow, he slammed back in, took her mouth, and rode her hard until they both came apart at the seams.

  Seven