by Shandi Boyes
I remain quiet, her rejection like a bullet to the head. I’ve never been turned down before.
I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Although anger should be sluicing my veins, I can’t help but smile when I set Justine back onto her feet so I can enter the still running shower. She keeps saying, “No, no, no,” but her body is screaming, “Yes, yes, yes.” Her nipples are budded and pressed against her shirt, no amount of wideness can detract from the need in her heavy-hooded gaze, and don’t get me started on her scent. I’ve never smelled something so erotic in my life.
The scorching hot water pumping out of the dated faucet has made the air muggy, but not even its dampness can suffocate the energy that crackles between Justine and me when I wrap my hand around my thick cock to give it a determined stroke.
I’m as toey as fuck, but that isn’t the reason I’m stroking my dick like a loser who can’t get a date. I’m doing it for the exact reaction Justine gives me two seconds later. Her gasp is even better than I was anticipating, and when its quickly chased by the pungent scent of her deprived cunt, it’s damn near catastrophic.
With Justine’s eyes locked on my cock, I milk it with quick, jutted strokes. My wish to come is as direr as my yearning to eradicate the hunger in Justine’s eyes. I picture her fleshy lips sliding down my shaft when her mouth falls open. When she sucks me off, her mouth will be as wide opened as it is now, but she’ll be on her knees, servicing me like she’s dying to do, but is too ashamed to admit.
While holding her gaze, I stroke my cock, not the least bit deterred that cum is biting at the crest, begging to be released. This isn’t about endurance, it’s a show, a performance, an endeavor to show Justine her scars don’t deter her sexiness in the slightest.
She puts on a brave front, but I know the real reason for her constant backstepping. She’s not scared of me. She’s petrified of herself.
From what I read in the report Roman compiled, she hasn’t placed herself first for years. Even while enduring a prolonged hospital stay for an incident her hospital record states was ‘confidential,’ Maddox’s arrest was still on the forefront of her mind.
For years, Justine’s wish to free her brother from incarceration has taken center stage—until now. Her thoughts are far from her family as she watches me stroke my cock in a way I plan for her to perfect over the coming days.
After working my fist over the crest of my cock to gather a bead of pre-cum pooled at the end, I lock my eyes with Justine’s. Her cheeks are heated with need, and her knees are pulled inward.
Certain I have her on the cusp of giving in, I say, “Why watch when you can join, Ahren?”
She considers my offer for barely a second before her eyes drop to the floor. A normal person would construe her actions as those of an innocent woman. It’s lucky for all involved, I’m far from normal. Her eyes may be pointed toward the floor, but they only went there after she stared at my cock long enough to imbed the image of me stroking it into her brain indefinitely.
“You’re responsible for this, Ahren. Your eyes, your lips, your body.”
I quicken my strokes, loving the responsiveness of my cock. Excluding last night when I had Justine pinned to the front door of her apartment, I can’t recall the last time I was this hard. It feels good even though it should feel so fucking wrong.
“I couldn’t sleep thinking about how good you’d feel wrapped around my cock. That’s why I was in the shower… seeking release.” Because most of my reply is honest, it comes out sounding that way. I had no intentions to stroke one out in the shower until the needy scent of her cunt veered me astray, but she doesn’t need to know that. “If I didn’t do something, I would have slipped under your knitted blanket and taken you while you were sleeping.”
I tighten my hand around my shaft when Justine’s eyes widen with recognition. “You were in my room?”
As the urge to come overwhelms me, I wink at her. Her shocked facial expression matches the one she pulled last night while screaming my name into the humid night air. She is mad, but more than anything, she’s turned on.
I groan in pleasure, my clutch on my dick almost cruel. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re sleeping.”
Although she rolls her eyes, her feminine moan has my balls tucking in close to my body. I’m going to come soon, and I’m going to picture the hot, salty squirts of my cum sliding down Justine’s throat when I do.
After adjusting my position to ensure she won’t miss the white stream that’s about to jet out of the slit in my cock, I work it faster. I slide my engorged knob in and out of my fist as I plan to do her no doubt tight cunt.
As a tingling sensation races down my spine, the devil inside me roars. I stroke faster, my hips jackknifing on repeat. I increase my pressure on the vein feeding my erection until the sensation gripping every inch of my sack becomes too intense to hold back.
With my grip tight and my hips steady, cum streams out of my cock at the same time Justine races for the door. I can’t help but laugh when she mumbles, “If you haven’t finished in twenty minutes, I’m switching off the water heater.”
I’m already done, baby, but don’t worry, we’re only just getting started.
Chapter Nine
“We’ve held him off for as long as we can, Nikolai. We can’t delay the inevitable for a second longer.”
I glare at Roman, the playfulness I exuded in the shower two hours ago long forgotten. Wrangling Ms. Aaronson back into her apartment thirty minutes ago already had my mood slipping, now Roman has gone and fucked it up entirely.
“I have a monitoring bracelet on my ankle. How far does he expect me to get?”
Roman scoots to the edge of his chair in the dining nook of Justine’s kitchen. “You know how Vladimir has been since Rico’s death. He doesn’t trust anyone.” I’m about to say his lack of trust occurred long before Rico’s untimely demise, but Roman continues talking, foiling my endeavor. “He’s also aware a tracker won’t stop you.”
He’s right, but it doesn’t make his confession any easier to swallow.
What he says next, though, it sure does. “And while he’s occupied ensuring your whereabouts are known at all times, we’ll have the opportunity to slip an operation under his nose without his consent.”
Smirking, he slides a manila folder to my side of the table. It’s similar to the one he left on my bed last night, but the target’s name is different. It belongs to the officer who bullied Justine mere minutes before he attempted to goad me into spending the long weekend in a holding cell.
While perusing Officer Prentice’s file, I say, “I thought you wanted to let his ‘mishap’ slide?”
Roman argued that exact point last night when I requested for him to compile a file on Officer Prentice. He thought I was starting a war that didn’t need to be fought, and assured me he’d find a way for Officer Prentice to learn the meaning of the word ‘manners’ without me needing to get involved.
I wasn’t fucking happy, but with Vladimir already having me burning the candle at both ends, and the media circulating a story about the death of a long-serving Las Vegas judge, I gave Officer Prentice a few days of amnesty. He will still be punished, just not until Justine has my charges expunged, which will now be in a legal manner since the media was referencing the judge I have on my payroll—or should I say had?
Judge Santos was found deceased in his home late last night. Reports aren’t saying how he died, but if the photographs I have of him in my safe at Clarks are anything to go by, I’m going to assume he was asphyxiated during sex. He liked things kinky, and considering his flavor of the month was usually an unsuspecting male teen willing to do anything to stay out of jail, he’s lucky to have lasted as long as he did.
If he even suggested that type of plea bargain with me when we met shortly before my eighteenth birthday, I would have killed him where he stood. Alas, not all teens are as ruthless as me. They’re also not as smart. They have no clue the judi
cial system here is so overcrowded, the chances of them spending a night in jail for a misdemeanor are extremely low—almost as low as my mood drops when a handful of photos slip out of Officer Prentice’s file. He doesn’t just bully women. His quirks extend to kids too.
“How old is she?”
Roman’s worldly eyes lift from the photo of a badly battered girl I’d guess to be early teens to me. “Fifteen. These images were obtained during her arrest for soliciting.” He opens a second folder that has just as many pictures as the first one, although more grainy. “These are the ones Hunter forwarded from a surveillance camera in the alleyway an hour before she was arrested.”
My jaw ticks when he hands me the photographs. The girl barely had a scratch on her before Officer Prentice approached her. Her cheeks only get busted up after he moves her into a shadow in the corner of the frame.
The timeline of images is already enough to get my blood boiling, but what Roman says next utterly annihilates any sense of normality. “I had Hunter run his plates through our surveillance system. Excluding the occasional piss in the alleyway, Prentice hasn’t left his vehicle which is parked on the corner of Malor and West Lucy.”
“West Lucy?” When Roman dips his chin, my blood pressure skyrockets. “He’s here? Staking out Justine’s apartment?”
“That’s the thing,” Roman says, his tone low. “He’s not on the roster for any drive-bys or surveillance in this region. No one is. Judge Ryder didn’t request surveillance as part of your home arrest, which means he’s only here for one reason.”
“He’s toying with me.” I drag my hand along my jaw, tracking the tick there when an even more perverse thought enters my mind. “Or he wants to toy with Justine.”
I’ve never heard my voice as hot and violent as it is right now. It truly seems as if it was delivered straight from hell. Its change in temperament is understandable. Officer Prentice didn’t just beat the teen he arrested, he did it while forcing her to perform a sex act on him.
If he thinks he’ll achieve the same outcome here, he’s shit out of luck.
I’ll slit his throat before he gets within an inch of Justine.
When Roman spots the grave expression on my face, he slides the file back to his side of the table before standing from his chair. “I’ll call in the crew; get this taken care of it.”
By ‘this’ he means Officer Prentice.
I slap my hand down on the file, stopping his hasty retreat. “No. I’ll handle it. This is personal, which means it’s my responsibility.”
Roman glares at me funny, but before he can voice a single smidge of the confusion I see in his eyes, a commotion at the side gains our attention. Justine has been thrust into the kitchen by Viktor. Her eyes are wide and frightened—until they lock on me. Even scared, she’s already aware I’ll never let anyone hurt her.
“I found her snooping outside.”
Justine shakes her head, denying Viktor’s claims. “I wasn’t snooping.”
My back molars become friendly when Roman says, “Nikolai is busy, Justine. Go wait in his room until he is ready for you.”
The confusion in his eyes doubles when I cut him off by slicing my hand through the air. Usually, women are forbidden from any Popov meetings, even ones as simple as today. But Justine isn’t like the women at the Popov compound. For one, she’s not a whore, and I’ll kill anyone who dares to say differently, and two, this is her realm as much as it is mine.
Roman’s throat works through a hard swallow when I say, “She’s fine, Roman. Let her be.”
When I stand from my chair to head Justine’s way, a tiny vein in her neck works overtime. She dressed differently than she was this morning. She’s switched out her business attire for a fun, flirty look. The teasing length of her shorts has me dying to see more of her long legs, and her shirt is modest but fitted, meaning I have no issues taking in the way her nipples bud more the closer I get to her.
When I finish bridging the gap between us, I notice a slight alteration to her scent. It’s still seductive as fuck, but it has matured, like our grapple in the bathroom fortified a steel rod in her back. She’s aware she doesn’t belong in the dark and dangerous world I’m endeavoring to pull her into, but she also knows she doesn’t belong outside of it either.
No wonder why I’m so conflicted. Justine’s emotions are as contradicting as my sudden urge to be her knight in shining armor. I want to say my protectiveness stems from knowing she’s damaged like me, but it’s more than that. She has more depth than her outer shell portrays. I just need to get her alone to work out what it is.
Justine is tall for a girl, bringing her only a few inches under my six foot two height, but I feel like a giant when I stand in front of her. It isn’t because I’m wearing boots and her feet are bare. It’s from the way she peers up at me with innocent yet seductive eyes. They’re as soft as the clouds angels dance on, but capable of provoking the deadly fury of a devil.
I’m tempted as fuck to see if her skin will sizzle under my touch as much as the gleam in her eyes fires whenever I’m in her presence, but I can feel the eyes of my men on me, so instead of touching her like I really want to, I keep my hands balled at my side.
Let me tell you, it’s a fucking hard feat.
My struggles are heard in my words when I ask, “What do you need, Ahren?”
“Umm...” She scans the room, as overwhelmed by the tension crackling between us as me. With how roasting it is, she says the last thing I’m anticipating. “I was just wondering if you needed anything at the store?” She jerks her chin to a door I’m assuming is a pantry on our left. “There is barely enough in there to scrape together a meal, let alone three days’ worth, so I thought I should go gather some supplies.”
“You’re running to the store?” Hesitation thickens my tone, but Justine seems oblivious to it. As she nods, her eyes flare with excitement, pleased I’m falling for her ruse. I’m not, but I’m happy to play along. “To gather supplies?”
When she nods again, a rueful smirk tugs my lips high. Although I’m dying to taste her, a trip to the store is best for all involved. While she’s out, I can handle Officer Prentice’s crimes without needing to expose her to my heinous world just yet. She has the strength to rule an empire, but I don’t want to frighten her until the fire in her eyes is fully relit.
“Are you going to feed me, Ahren?”
My nostrils flare when the need in my voice causes Justine’s knees to pull together. Her scent wipes the chaos from my mind, foolishly leading me to believe being her savior will far exceed the losses I will endure—even more so when she whispers, “Yes.” She does a quick swallow to force down her lie before adding, “Food. Only food.”
I let her fib slide with a smile. “We’ll see.”
When I crank my neck to Roman, he tosses me a wad of cash out of the bundle Cliché’s earned last night. Its rolled-up appearance hides the fact a majority of it was tucked in the sequined panties of over three dozen strippers. The women in my club keep their tips after they’ve been thoroughly cleaned by my crew, and no, I’m not referencing the dirty mitts of my clients. I only have legitimate businesses for one reason. To hide the transactions I don’t want the law to see.
While yanking three one hundred dollar bills out of the bundle, I nudge my head to Viktor. “Take Viktor with you. He’ll keep you safe.”
The playfulness heating my veins gets a second dose when Justine snorts. “I’ll be safer without him in my presence.”
Her sass takes a backseat when I mutter, “Now that he’s aware of who you are, he’d slit his throat before he touches you again.”
Viktor looks surprised by the protectiveness in my tone, but he nods his head nonetheless, aware of the repercussions if he dared to double-guess me. “Y-y-yes, Boss. I-I’ll take her to the store. I’ll keep her safe.”
I tuck the bills into the pocket in Justine’s shorts before returning my eyes to her face. “Go to the store; get what you need, then come back
here… immediately.”
The possessiveness in my tone has her jumping to my command. “Okay.”
After a quick grin, she spins on her heels, preparing to leave. She barely gets two steps away when my growl of her nickname has her freezing halfway through the swinging door.
“Are you forgetting something?”
When she cranks her neck back to me, I tap my cheek. Her breathing grows excited as she swings her eyes to my crew. If she’s hoping they’ll jump in and save her, she’s seeking help from the wrong people. My men wouldn’t challenge me on my best day, much less provoke me when I’m the most vulnerable.
As Justine drifts her massively dilated eyes back to mine, her chest rises and falls three times. My cock thickens painfully quick when she stammers out, “Attorneys don’t kiss their clients goodbye.”
She’s once again telling me no, but her body is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Her nipples are hard enough I’m afraid they’re about to break through her shirt, and the syrupy goodness my cock is dying to have coating it doubles in strength.
Fight as she may, not even she is safe from the chaotic storm brewing between us.
I step closer to her, budding her nipples even more. “Then I guess I better get a new attorney… as I’m planning on doing a whole lot more than kissing you.”
It’s the fight of my life not to gorge on her now when the quickest brush of my lips on her cheek buckles her knees. She’s hot all over, her needs as desperate as mine. I’m so eager, if the images I scanned earlier weren’t replacing the teens face with Justine’s, nothing would stop me. Alas, this stranger became my everything as quickly as my family became my enemy.
Both were brutal, unexpected events.
I’m just hoping this one doesn’t end as gorily.
Chapter Ten
“He won’t get close enough to touch you, I swear.” Maya peers up at me, blinking and mute. She’s panicked about my request for help, but mindful her assistance will be greatly rewarded. “I need someone who matched the description of his previous victims at short notice. You were the perfect candidate. He likes them…” I stop before I say small and malnourished like you. I want her help, not remind her about how poorly Vladimir treats his children.
