by V Vee
Andrew kissed me deeply and fucked me thoroughly, penetrating places he wasn’t supposed to. I started to writhe under him, the crest of a monster orgasm had started to takeover my body. I scraped my nails over his back and scalp.
“Oh God! Andrew, I’m cumming. Baby I’m…” I breathed out as I arched my back and squeezed my pussy walls against his muscled steel.
“Fuck! Shit! You’re going to kill me. Yes, baby, just like that. Cum all over this dick.”
I sat up and awkwardly wrapped my sweaty arms around his neck, tightening my legs around him. “Oh please, Andrew, cum with me. Andrew, cum.” Andrew looped his arm under the crook of one of my knees then rested both of his hands against the cushioned seat back of the booth he’d previously been sitting in.
“Cum for me, baby,” he demanded just as he began to pound into me.
I didn’t cum for any man on demand…
Except him.
My eyes clenched tight, and I held him. “Andrew!” I screamed just as I climaxed. I was drowning his dick in my blackberry juices. I could feel my satisfaction splashing and flowing off the table. That’s just how wet he was making me.
“Damn, that shit felt good,” he managed to breathe out. “Cum again, baby. I want you screaming my fucking name all night long,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “I want all of fucking Baltimore to know this is my pussy, Kyra. Mine…”
I nodded in agreement because Andrew’s stroke game was on point and I can admit that he had me completely sprung by that point. I would have done and said whatever he wanted me to, just as long as he kept hitting that spot. I just couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t speak. Until I came again, then the only thing I could say was one word. I screamed his name like someone was torturing the life out of me and his name was the only word I knew. I didn’t know what’s happening around me. For some reason, the art of speaking or hell, even thinking anything other than his name had left my brain. I’d been diminished to a heap of Andrew-centric dick-matized mess. I was hypnotized on his Irish cock and I couldn’t say I was ashamed about it.
As I came down from my climatic high, I realized he hadn’t yet cum. He was still grinding into me, his dick sliding against my clit, making my body convulse. Bottom line, he was tearing my pussy up. “Oh no, baby.” he said to me, his wanton-filled eyes frozen on mine. “I’m not done with you yet. Not in the fucking least. Keep your eyes on me.” My eyes went wide as hell, and I didn’t move them away from his. I had no choice. If my sweet spot was going to survive Andrew, I needed to do exactly what he wanted. I’d always thought I knew how to have sex. How to fuck. I’d been to sex parties. Had entered a few sex dungeons even. There’d even been six months when I’d been this Latino man’s submissive, but as Andrew swiveled his hips and thrust, slammed and stroked, plunged and withdrew, I realized that I didn’t know shit.
Andrew turned me out like a five-dollar hooker that night.
That was it. He fucked me so well and so thoroughly that I couldn’t utter a sound when he was finally done with me. I felt his cum surge inside of me, trembled as he roared my name, heard echoing groans from the other men in the bar as they no doubt jazzed in their pants, and passed the fuck out.
Chapter Six
Andrew- The Irishman
I held a sleeping Kyra tighter to me with a contented smile on my face. I’d worn her ass out fucking her in my bar, and while a part of me was a bit angry and annoyed that my men and some of the patrons had heard her moans of pleasure, heard the way she screamed my name in passion, and maybe even smelled the scent of her juicy pussy, the other part of me was proud that they all knew that I could satisfy. That I did satisfy her. Kyra was mine and they all knew it. All of her belonged to me and everyone knew it. Except the lady herself.
But I would help her realize it in short order.
Which meant I needed to find out exactly what kind of shit my woman was into, to the point that she had “people.”
Who the fuck was this woman?
I felt my phone vibrate against my chest and pulling it out of my jacket pocket I glanced at the name on the screen, a wide grin coming to my face.
“How much do you need, Nia?” I asked instead of saying hello.
“Well hello to you as well big brother,” her musical, lilting laugh drifted through the phone line to me, making me smile harder. “What makes you think I am calling to ask you for money? Maybe I’m calling just to chat or to check up on my big, bad, mobster brother, the head of Clan McCarthy?”
I shook my head. I loved my sister, I really did, I would kill for her, die for her, and I felt the same way about my younger brothers, and I had spent the bulk of Nia’s life spoiling her rotten, especially after our parents had died; but Nia never called me to simply “catch-up.” That’s what social media and texting were for, at least according to her. But asking for money? That required a more personal touch, hence the phone call.
“How much, Nia?” I asked again without responding to her attempts to butter me up.
“Just three hundred,” she said softly.
I frowned. “Three hundred dollars?” I questioned incredulously. There was absolutely no way my baby sister did not have at least three hundred dollars in her accounts. As a matter of fact, I was almost certain she had at least thirty thousand in one account alone. I always made sure that Nia had enough for incidentals and shopping—which she loved to do—so the fact that she was asking me for three hundred dollars…
“Three hundred thousand,” Nia replied sheepishly, her voice even softer than it had been before.
I sat forward in my seat, careful not to jostle Kyra too much. I didn’t need her to wake up and hear me yelling at my sister. Even though we’d made love twice now, and I’d told her multiple times that she was mine, I knew that Kyra was still a bit uncertain when it came to our relationship. It would take a bit of time and patience on my part to break through the walls that she had up, but I knew I would. But at that moment I needed to focus on the other woman in my life. Three hundred thousand dollars wasn’t a lot of money to me, it was barely a drop in the bucket, but for Nia to ask me for that much at one time?
Well, let’s just say I was a bit worried and a whole lot suspicious.
“Why do you need three hundred thousand dollars, Nia?” I interrogate her.
I could hear the hesitation in her voice when she answered and knew even before she started to speak that she was going to lie to me. I hated it when any of my siblings felt as if they couldn’t be honest with me. With everything that I’d done for them. Everything I would do for them, why did they feel as if they needed to keep things from me?
“I… um… got into a bit of trouble out here in Morocco and I just need the money to get out of it,” Nia said.
“What kind of trouble, Nia?” I asked.
She sighed in frustration. “Drew, are you going to send me the money or not? I mean I can always call Shannon, Bailey, or someone else.”
I growled low in my throat. Nia knew I hated it when she did that bullshit. Threatened to ask one of my younger brothers for help when I was perfectly capable of providing her with whatever she needed. I was the eldest, it was my duty to take care of the others. It was why I had been placed as the head of Clan McCarthy. Why my father had trained me to take over the “family business.” I was born to do it. Trained to do it. And I wouldn’t let anyone, not even my fucking brothers, take over my role.
“I’ll send you the goddamn money, brat. I just wish you didn’t feel you had to lie to me about why you need it,” I retorted angrily.
“I’m not lying,” Nia argued.
I scoffed into the phone then hung up without another word, ignoring Nia when she called back. I knew she was only doing so to defend herself, not to tell me the truth. I knew my baby sister. It would take her a while to confess and I had too much on my plate as it was so I couldn’t wait for her to feel guilty enough to finally tell me. I would have to find out the truth about what was going on with her on my own.
>
“Well that was kind of rude, don’t you think?” Kyra’s voice drifted up to my ear softly and still tinged slightly with exhaustion.
I looked down to find her dark brown eyes on me and felt my heart shake within me. Who the fuck was this woman and what the fuck kind of sorcery did she practice that she could cause such a visceral reaction in me?
“Hey baby,” I said with a smile, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough. Who is Nia?”
I could hear the not of jealousy in Kyra’s voice and it made me smile. She could pretend all she wanted that she didn’t care about me or about us being together, but I knew differently. My baby wanted me, and she didn’t want anyone else to have me. The feeling was definitely mutual.
I looked down at her and winked, lifting my hand to caress the smooth, soft, brown skin of her cheek. She may not have been aware, but I noticed the way her eyes drifted close at my touch and my cock stirred in my pants. Fuck, I wanted her again.
“Nia is my baby sister. She’s off on vacation right now,” I explained. “She’s always off galivanting around the world. Shopping, meeting new people, partying. Basically, doing the things that eighteen-year olds are supposed to do.” I shrugged and sighed. “I always make sure she has more than enough money in her accounts, but she just called to ask me for more than she ever has before. Said she got into some trouble.” I shook my head.
“So what—” Kyra said as she shifted on the seat, sitting up completely beside me. My arms felt empty and the side of my body where she’d been resting suddenly felt cold and bereft when she moved away. I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of her being separated from me, even by a few inches. So I reached out and tugged her back into my body, grinning as she let out a small yelp of surprise. She smacked my stomach but settled back down. “You don’t believe her?”
I shrugged again. “I believe she needs the money, but not because she’s in trouble. I think she’s trying to help someone. Probably a boy she likes. Someone she knows I wouldn’t approve of. And she’s afraid to tell me about him. Or whatever trouble he’s gotten into because she knows how I’d react.”
Kyra hummed and glanced up at me. “Oh? And how’s that?”
I chuckled darkly. “I’m very protective of the people in my life. Especially the women who are in my family and under my care. I fully admit that I don’t think any man or boy is good enough for my baby sister. Nia knows that if she told me about it, I’d send over the money with one of my men, most likely Ludwig, and I’d make sure she never saw that guy again.”
Kyra looked up at me with wide eyes. “You’d kill him because he was interested in your sister?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t kill him because he wanted to date her or hell, even because he wanted to fuck her. Nia’s a very beautiful young woman. It’s going to happen.”
Kyra sighed in relief, but I wasn’t done. I’d have to disabuse her of any false notions about me. I was no one’s hero. I wasn’t a good guy who did bad things. I was a bad man. Some even called me evil. Their labels didn’t bother me in the least. I knew who and what I was. I enjoyed what I did. The feeling of blood on my hands when I used my knives. The smell of sulfur when I used my guns. Even the excitement I felt when I felt my victim take their last breath when I choked them. My sister called me Robin Hood©, a thief who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. I always laughed when she tried to give me that moniker because we both knew exactly how off base that was. I was no one’s superhero. I was the anti-hero. I killed because I enjoyed it. I stole because I wanted to.
I fucked hard because I was damn good at it.
“I would kill him because he’d gotten my baby sister involved in some fucking nonsense,” I finished and felt Kyra tense up in my arms. She looked up at me, her eyes fixed on my face for long moments before she nodded.
“I can understand that.”
I blinked at her in surprise. That was not the response I’d expected from her. “People” or not, a part of me still saw Kyra as a bright light in the darkness of my world. Yes, she could shoot, and she didn’t scream or blink twice when it came to getting involved in a gunfight, but a part of me still thought she was innocent. Pure. Clean. But I was starting to think that Kyra Bahmer, this woman who had so ensnared me, was just as badass as I was.
That shit was a fucking turn-on.
“You do?” I questioned.
Kyra nodded and played with the buttons on my shirt. “Well, yeah. I’m the same way. I have people in my care. A community. My friend, Michele. I don’t have any siblings, but if I did, I would be just as protective. I would kill for them. I have killed for them. Without complaint. Without hesitation. Without shame. Sometimes you have to be the devil to protect those you care about from ever being trapped in the darkness you live in.”
I sighed in relief as a tension I hadn’t even known I was holding flowed out of my body.
“Exactly.”
Just as I lowered my head to kiss her the car came to a stop outside of my home. Or dark, haunted mansion as Nia always called it. It was a large, four story estate, with a basement where I held meetings and interrogations. It was big enough for what I needed, and for what I wanted. Which was a family. With Kyra.
And soon.
Down boy, I warned my cock as I felt the beast twitch in my pants at the thought of filling Kyra with my seed again.
“Where are we? This isn’t my house.” Kyra looked around in confusion, then back at me with suspicion and a bit of anger filling her eyes.
“It’s your home now,” I told her simply, opening the door and reaching back to help her out.
“Excuse me? You did not fucking ask me if I wanted to move in with you,” Kyra hissed at me.
“No. I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Because I don’t fucking have to.”
Kyra gasped and her eyes widened. “What?”
I stepped close to her until her back was pressed against the side of the car. “I told you more than once that you were mine. I’ve fucked you and filled you with my cum multiple times. I don’t have to ask you because your place is with me. In my home. My bed. And at my side.” I held up a hand when she went to refute my statements. I braced my hands on either side of her head, on the top of the car.
“I asked you at the bar to tell me who you belonged to, Kyra and you said you belonged to me. All of you. Do you remember?”
“Yes, but, you can’t hold me to something I said while we were in the middle of fucking!”
“Can’t I?” I tilted my head at her. “Tell me you don’t want me. That you don’t want to be mine. Don’t want to belong to me. Don’t want me to belong to you. Tell me you don’t want me to kneel down right here, throw your leg over my shoulder and eat that sweet pussy, before I take you upstairs and fuck your brains out and I will have Ronan take you home.”
I watched the swirl of emotions flash through her eyes. Watched as the battle raged within her. I held my breath, knowing she was stubborn enough to tell me to kick rocks and leave me in my driveway while she refused even a ride from my driver and walked back to the other side of Baltimore to her own home. I would be disappointed, fuck that, I would be angrier than shit, but I wouldn’t let her go. A man like me did not let his woman go without a fight.
Besides, her friend Michele was inside my home and I knew there was no way Kyra would leave without her.
She shook her head. “I can’t just leave Michele in that house when there are people coming by and shooting it up,” she said.
I smiled down at her. “No need to worry about Michele. She’s already inside. She has her own suite of rooms and from what I understand, she’s settled in quite nicely.”
Kyra frowned. “Michele’s inside?”
I nodded. “Yep. And she came along without arguing or fighting us about it. So,” I swept my hand out towards the house. “Would you like to come in and see your new home, Ms. Kyra?” McCarthy, my brain supplied the rest of her
name.
Soon. That would be her last name soon.
“Fine.” She sighed. “But the minute you fuck up? I’m out of here. With or without Michele.”
I nodded. “Duly noted. Now, c’mon baby. Let’s go.” I turned and took her hand in mind, making my way towards the front door.
“And don’t think you’re getting out of your promise.”
“What promise?” I asked, glancing back at her over my shoulder.
Kyra gave me a wicked smile, her dark eyes shining with mischief.
“To throw my legs over your shoulder and eat my pussy,” she responded. “I’ve found that I suddenly want that more than I want to see the inside of this massive house.”
“Oh really?”
She nodded. “Oh yes. C’mon Irish boy. I think I’m forgetting what your tongue feels like deep inside of this tight, hot brown pussy. Why don’t you remind me of why I agreed to be yours?”
With a lustful growl, I scooped Kyra up into my arms and walked over to the wall next to the front door. I turned and pointed at my guards.
“Turn the fuck around,” I ordered, turning back to my woman without even checking to see if they followed orders. I had more important things on my mind. Namely, burying my tongue deep inside Kyra’s snatch.
“You better hold on, baby,” I said, before sinking to my knees.
Chapter Seven
Kyra- K-Love
I couldn’t breathe.
Holy. Fuck. This white boy knew how to eat my pussy.
I gasped, dropping a hand to bury it into his thick, ginger locks, my head falling back to hit the wall of the house behind me. I wanted to close my eyes and soak in the sensations of him licking up one side, down the other, shoving his tongue deep within me, but I was facing such a gorgeous view it was heightening the pleasure I felt.