Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  By the time Noah drives us home, I’m tired, sore, and not in the mood to be alone.

  “Noah.”

  “Uh, no one forced you to wear those sexy as fuck heels, just as no one forced you to put a fucking colony of Fire Ants in my damn bed.”

  “Uh, you deserved that.”

  “For slashing your damn tires?”

  “For leaving dead cats on the fucking hood of my car.” The way he pauses makes me sit up straight and take look at him. “What?”

  “I didn’t leave any dead cats on the hood of your car.”

  It’s like I’ve just been hit over the head with a dumbbell or something. My ears start to ring as pressure builds in my chest.

  “Take me to my sisters.”

  “What?”

  “My sisters... Marie, please, Noah, take me to them,” I rush, my mind racing, If Noah didn’t leave those dead cats, then they know.

  They found me. They found us. Those dead cats represent me and my sisters! The bigger cat and the two kittens.

  “What?”

  “Noah, please. I need to know if they’re safe.”

  “Hey, hey, what just happened?”

  “Let’s go…”

  “Hey, come back to me,” Noah demands harshly and it works, putting the backdrop of chaos on pause for a bit. “Your sisters are safe.”

  I don’t have a chance of stopping the tears when they pour out this time.

  “The cats… he found us.”

  “Who?” he demands, jaw clenched.

  “Larry,” I whisper. “He promised that if anything ever happened to him, the same tragedy would befall me and my sisters.”

  “What?” he demands.

  “Noah, please, I need to see them.”

  He looks speechless for just a second and then next he jumps into action. He calls someone. “Update?” he demands. I strain to listen, but I can’t hear anything.

  “They are safe,” Noah says when he hangs up.

  “How do you know?” I demand, very close to breaking.

  “We have people watching.”

  “We?”

  “The guys and me, we… well, we’re keeping an eye on all of you.”

  The phone call with Astraea and Ivy suddenly makes sense. Ivy mentioned that she felt like she was being watched and now this.

  “I need to see them.”

  “Not tonight, baby,” Noah says softly. “You’re a bit drunk and I don’t think Marie would appreciate you walking into her house smelling like gasoline.” He has a point, I know but I just… “Hey, they’re fine. We’ll go get them in the morning. For now, you’re staying with me, in my fucking bed. Okay?”

  It’s the way he holds me in his arms and the sure beat of his heart that calms me down some. “Okay.”

  “I got you.”

  He carries me into the house, and straight to his wing where his furniture was delivered today—I made sure. He did suffer a bit, sleeping in a room where occasional ants are still crawling.

  I’m a mess and I know it but the day—while it has been charming and pretty damn fun—it was too much.

  The rise and fall of emotions was just a bit too much.

  So when Noah starts to undress me, watching me with a hard gaze that chills me to the bone, I can’t help but do the one thing he told me not to do… ever.

  I beg.

  “Kimmy…”

  “Please,” I whisper hotly, kissing along his neck. “It’s too much, inside me… please.”

  I feel like I am on the brink of explosion and not in a good way. The darkness is rising, the voices in my head… the sound of the whip slicing the air… it’s all coming back to me with vivid clarity.

  I am trying to downplay it, but I can’t hold it in anymore, my eyes burning with more tears.

  “Please… fuck me.”

  He stares down at me, his jaw clenched tight, with his fists clenched to his sides.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says slowly, carefully, as if trying not to show me what I can already see in him. “I’m already wound up so fucking tight.”

  “Me too…”

  “It’s been a fucking long and trying few weeks… I can’t let loose with you like that.”

  But that’s exactly what I want. I want that darkness. I want the rawness, the untamed rage.

  “Noah, please.” I can’t stop myself from reaching for his shirt, breathless and on the verge of breaking.

  “Be careful with what you fucking wish for, Kimmy,” he says seriously. “I’ve changed.”

  “I know.” And I want him still.

  “Why, Kimmy?” he demands. “Why ask this of me when you know there’s a good chance someone will end up hurt?”

  I know that, but still here I am…

  “I want to feel.”

  Just like that, Noah moves and suddenly, I’m leaning over the bed, standing in my heels, wet and panting for him.

  There’s no warning or anything else. He levers me from behind, my hair fisted in his hand, and he shoves his hard, throbbing cock into me.

  The bite of pain mixed with the sweet agony of his intense and powerful possession make me gasp out loud, a low scream lodged in my throat.

  I love that his cock is pierced, and I love the new level of pleasure-pain it brings.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, then his hand is at my clit, flicking and rubbing in circles, making my hips churn along as more lubrication coats my pussy, easing his burn.

  “Yes,” I moan when he starts fucking me with a fast, brutal tempo that leaves me raking the sheets, the rich wood paneling at the back of the bed and anything else I can grab. He wasn’t joking when he warned me about how strung up he is.

  I can feel the tornado in him, the barely restrained fury, it’s like he’s on fire. But maybe I underestimated how much I needed this because as he fucks me, I can’t help but let it all go as I meet him thrust for thrust, the ice melting as the lava takes over.

  I feel his fingers at my hard nipples as he twists and tugs, then right there where we’re joined and then next thing I know, his fingers are in my mouth.

  “Suck.”

  Jesus.

  I can feel myself grow even more sleek at that one command. I suck his fingers the same way I want to suck his hard cock and he growls his encouragement.

  “Yeah, that’s it, Butterfly,” he purrs. “You’re fucking mine.”

  Fuck!

  I can feel it build in me. Noah keeps fucking me, his magnificent, pierced dick stretching me from behind.

  “Move it there,” he demands, slapping my ass with just enough force to make me moan and do as I’m told, grinding back onto him until he lets out a low, pained hiss.

  “Fuck!”

  The rhythmic slap of his heavy balls on my ass, the way he grips my hair, the way he pulls my head back until my lips are so close, he bites down on them, I can’t hold it in anymore.

  “Not yet.”

  Oh God.

  “Noah…”

  “Not yet,” he hisses. “Know your place when you’re in my bed, desperate for me to fuck you this hard, this deep and this fucking fast, just the way you want it when you can’t outrun your vicious mind, know your place.”

  He pounds into me harder, deeper, unerringly hitting my sweet spot over and over again.

  I can’t help my moans or the thrill that runs through me as he fucks me like a whore but holds me like he’s so fucking in love with me.

  It’s dirty, it’s maybe wrong and I think there’s something wrong with me but I want this. I want him.

  “Noah…” I moan.

  “Wait for it.”

  He’s rough, unrelenting, and intense, driving me insane with lust and love that bubbles up in my chest. Suddenly, I forget everything.

  The threat on my life.

  The fact that even after all this time, my father is still hunting me.

  The heartbreak that will soon come after this.

  The way I’m head over heels in
love with Noah even though I know we’re too toxic for each other.

  I forget it all, surrendering instead to this right here, everything he’s giving me, brewing inside me…

  He pulls out, flips me over until I’m sprawled on my back, looking up at him, seeing the real Noah Montreal that’s always in hiding.

  “Hold on.”

  He drives into me, but before I can think this is going to be easy, he wraps my legs around his hips, then I’m in his arms and in a few long strides, my burning and slightly itchy back is against the wall.

  We strain, we screw, I grind and clench feeling desperate for him, hungry for him… hungry for release.

  “Don’t you fucking look away.”

  I wouldn’t dare. Not when he’s all I want to see.

  I can feel my sex tightening with an impending crash and this time, he holds my gaze, leans in and groans in my ear… just the way I like it. “Come.”

  I go off like the fucking firecracker we lit up earlier.

  I don’t stop coming as he keeps on screwing me, fucking me into another orgasm… and then with a guttural groan of his own, he’s coming too. Long and hard. I can feel his cum slipping out of me, and the carnal thought sets me off… again.

  I cry out, my pussy clenching down on around his still hard cock, making him hiss. I hold on to him, catching my breath, thinking that this is it but no. Not with Noah.

  “I’m not done with you,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he looks at me like I’m a meal he still wants to devour. Without another word, he walks over to the couch I hadn’t noticed at all and sits at the edge, with me straddling him. “Ride me, Butterfly.”

  I can feel my body igniting even more than before. He is my focus, the one that I’m aiming to please, the one I want to give my all to.

  And he watches me, murmuring about how beautiful I am, how worthy I am, and the fact that he loves the way I clench down on him, the way I rise up and down on him with my tits on full display for him and only him.

  Greedily I rack up his words, soaking them into my damaged soul like a junkie who might never get another fix.

  At some point as I pump my hips, he pulls me down to him until our foreheads press together, my favorite position.

  “You want to come, don’t you? Your pussy gets so fucking hot when you’re right there,” he purrs. “Now quit playing with me and fuck me, Butterfly.”

  At some point during the night, I lose count on how many times we go at it or how many times he makes me come.

  By the time he stops licking my cleft with his tongue, the sun is already rising. And as a new day breaks, I can’t help but want to know something new about him.

  “What makes you feel alive?” I whisper, laying in his arms, tired and exhausted, but his fingers are still circling my clit like he wants to make me come again. Noah is like a machine, his possession and need for me the one thing I’m sure of.

  “Being with you,” he groans the words in my ear. “You make me come alive.”

  Yeah, he makes me come again.

  Chapter 28

  KIM

  Bad omens usually start the way anything else starts, I guess. With good intentions and an unsuspecting mind.

  It’s been a few days since the meeting, since the explosive night between Noah and me.

  I can’t say for certain that we are going to be all right, but every night since that night, we’ve been… well, we’ve been unable to stop.

  The weekend after Noah tattooed my back, I really thought we’d stay away from each other. That is until he came for me while I slept in one of the guest bedrooms in his huge mansion, still unable to stay at home by myself since the girls were with Marie for the weekend.

  “Shh, let me in.”

  “We… we can’t.”

  “Hush, baby. Just this once.”

  I really thought it was going to be just that one time, but fuck, we’re still going.

  For me, he’s the only one who’s able to steady my heart and make me stay in the present, but still, the danger of being with Noah glares at me every single day.

  Last night, instead of fucking me rough, hard and fast… he was different.

  He took his time seducing me, the foreplay intense and slightly cruel as Noah is at times, but so incredibly addicting.

  Then there was the way he looked at me as he fucked me…

  My throat burns all over again as I think back to a few hours ago, but I don’t have time for that.

  I still have a job to do and a company dinner to organize, and as we get closer to D-Day, everything seems to catch on fire.

  “Just so we’re clear, that bet… it still stands,” I reminded Noah last night. We might’ve been screwing again but I wanted more.

  “By all means, prove me wrong, baby,” he fired back as he pulled me back into his arms.

  I love it when he’s playful but hate it when I feel like he’s keeping something from me.

  Since telling him about the dead cats, Noah’s been acting a bit… strange. Which sucks because tonight is the charity ball he and I have to attend in Christina’s stead.

  I was expecting Noah to come back home hours ago, but he still isn’t here so instead of dressing up in the gown I received—but haven’t actually seen yet—I get back to work in his mother’s office because fuck me, I’m drowning in work.

  When Christina first told me of this job and what she does, I thought it was all manageable, that she couldn’t possibly do a lot all by herself.

  I mean, she has a legion of people to help her with everything that she wants done, but looking at the detailed list she left me, I feel like I might collapse.

  It was just one task, organize the annual dinner for Montreal Inc and the trusted partners, but it’s a huge fucking deal.

  I only have less than a week to get everything done! A freaking week that will be over in just the blink of an eye.

  Not only that, I still have the charity dinner that I have to attend tonight and I’m a nervous wreck.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Christina set me up for failure. But I do know better.

  I know that I want to impress her. I want her to be proud that she even gave me this huge opportunity—even though she cornered me to take it.

  So, I throw myself fully into my work.

  I research everything there is to know about event organizing for rich and powerful people and the results are astounding.

  Who knew there were different types of forks to use for different types of meals at a fancy dinner?

  “Make sure you know the diet restrictions as well as any allergic reactions your guests might have. Some are lactose intolerant. Some are vegans. Food will make or break an event.”

  “Seriously, Linda!” I yell at the YouTube video I’m watching, a ton of papers scatter on the desk.

  I’ve been writing down a list of everything that I need to get done.

  The venue.

  The tables, chairs, the sitting arrangement.

  The décor.

  The menu.

  The guest list.

  The staff, the catering, the fucking tablecloths and the entertainment.

  It’s as if I’m organizing a damn wedding with over two hundred guests who all eat different shit!

  I’m knee deep in trying to figure it all out when the new phone Christina left buzzes with a new text.

  Christina: How is it going?

  ME: It’s going all right. I thought you said you’d be here to help me.

  Christina: Consider this macro-management as me helping you. Don’t forget, you need to know the names of each guest and their plus one before you go tonight.

  ME: You’re joking right?

  Christina: Devil Wears Prada, dear. Also, I do need you to do something for me.

  ME: Anything.

  Christina: Could you go up to Noah’s wing and check if he received a letter. It’s supposed to be in a black envelope.

  I pause, re-reading the text she just sent. Why
would she want me to go snooping around Noah’s belongings to look for a letter that I assume is private and confidential?

  ME: I don’t think I have access to his wing. Besides, he’s not home.

  Christina: That letter is important, Kimberly. That’s why I need you to get it at all costs.

  At all costs? What on earth does that even mean?

  From what I’ve seen so far, Christina and Noah have a pretty good relationship so wouldn’t it be easier for her to just ask Noah for the letter?

  I push back from the desk as I stand up. Noah is running late, he might be home any second now, but still, I shake off the weirdness of Christina’s request then quickly make my way down the hall, up a flight of stairs and across a beautiful foyer that is so warm and inviting, I could just curl up with a book and never emerge.

  I head straight for the west wing: Noah’s domain, knowing better than to go anywhere near the east wing where Craig took his life.

  Like I was expecting, there is a huge black steel door is locked.

  I snap a picture and send it to Christina with question marks.

  Christina: Don’t you know his password?

  We might’ve been screwing like bunnies these past few nights, but I doubt I’ll be getting his password anytime soon. Besides, by the time Noah takes me back to his lair, I’d be already out of my mind with lust.

  ME: Uh, no. Your son doesn’t trust me to that extent.

  Christina: Then what good are you?

  My eyes go as wide as saucers as I read that part.

  Christina: Sorry, that message was meant for someone else.

  Was it? I feel like it was directed at me but why? Christina is not mean or rude. In fact, everyone loves her.

  I stuff the phone in my back pocket, still confused with this entire thing. What game is Christina playing at? And for God’s sake, what is the letter about anyway?

  I’m not sure why Christina would ask for this, but I figure maybe she wants me to work for my keep.

  To actually do something that matters besides waitressing in strip clubs and cleaning hotel rooms.

  Unlike the gorgeous hallway where the huge windows bring so much light and offer a breathtaking view of the estates, Noah’s wing of the house is so different.