“Have you ever watched the movie Dodgeball starring Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughn?” The two men looked to each other, then to me.
Nothing.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
I continued.
“In the movie, ordinary guys enter a dodgeball competition in order to win the cash prize and save their beloved gym from some greedy asshole who wants to take it over. It’s a comedy, but it’s all about the little guy fighting back against the big, bad bullies of the world.”
“So…what?” Ferdi chimed in. “You want us to throw a few big red balls in the ring and have the guys fight over them? Not for nothing, babe, but that sounds dumb as fuck.”
“You want to get shot, don’t you?” Mac growled at the big man.
I definitely didn’t need to witness another skirmish between these two, so I hurried along.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” I replied calmly. “As an outsider looking in, there were major differences between the fights at Mac’s place and the ones at O’Brien’s. There are advantages to that, lucrative advantages, IF you’re willing to take the chance.”
Mac looked to Ferdi with raised eyebrows and a sinister grin. “Tell us more.”
We ended up talking for hours, working in tandem, planning, strategizing. Palpable excitement could be felt throughout the room and flourished like wildfire with rapt anticipation. I shared my ideas, my vision for the average Joe matches with the construction workers around town that would surely take advantage of the opportunity. I insisted on a few addendums regarding the usual setup of the fights. I wasn’t out to get anyone killed. Three rounds tops, stoppage immediately if either man showed signs of injury, and a hefty purse for the winner and a consolation payout for the looser.
My thoughts were simple. O’Brien catered to the elite, overstuffed, hoity-toity establishment with small-dick energy. What made Mac’s place so special was that anyone with a dollar and a dream could come away a winner. That was the audience we needed. Small dollars eventually became big dollars depending on how successful we were. Ferdi left the penthouse to get the ball rolling. Apparently, one didn’t just go out and place an ad in the local newspaper looking for underground fighters.
Who knew?
I felt this weird vibe coming off Mac as he removed his suit jacket and peered out of the penthouse window. Maybe he didn’t like my ideas at all and was only humoring me. He was tense and unusually quiet all of a sudden—the flex of his fingers, the tick of his jaw, his rapid intake of breath. It was obvious something was bothering him, and I was starting to get pissed. When he ran a frustrated hand down his face, I snapped.
“Look, I was just trying to help. Handle O’Brien however you’d like. I don’t give a shit. Fuck him and fuck you too!” I yelled.
“What did you say to me?”
“You obviously took issue with my suggestions, Mac, so save your mob hostility for someone else. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know why this is happening, and I won’t be kept in the dark due to some backwards-ass macho bullshit rules. This shit affects my life too, and I have a right to know why O’Brien has it out for me!” I ended my hysterical tirade.
Mac blinked.
Backed up.
Two long strides, and he was on me.
“I…”
He grabbed the back of my neck in a tight hold. “Shut the fuck up, woman.”
His upper lip lifted in a sneer. My breaths expelled in short pants. He was so close, I could see the whites of his eyes. His arm wrapped around my waist to keep me still. I shivered at the feel of his chest pressed against mine.
“You better be damn sure about what you’re asking. There are no take-backs, timeouts, or fucking oopsies, you get me? There’s no half-steppin’, Otelia. I bring you in, and it’s death do us part, you get what I’m saying?”
Did I?
Did I really want to know this stuff?
Through gritted teeth, I went for broke. “Yes, Mac. I get you.”
He mumbled something that sounded like brave little kitty cat before he kissed the tip of my nose and joined me on the couch. He spoke with deadly calm and without holding back.
“O’Brien will be dealt with, Otelia, of that I am certain. The two men he hired to kill you were spotted earlier this morning. That’s why I had to leave. We were able to secure just one, who begged for his mother before I made him choke on his severed cock. He chose to eat a bullet instead of admitting that it was O’Brien who’d sent him. The other, unfortunately, got away before I could get to him, but he’s living on borrowed time. Consider yourself well informed now.”
I was floored by his confession, but not for the obvious reason. Mac had blood on his hands, but I questioned his justifications. Did he really do all this to protect me? Was it somehow a way to secure his business reputation as a badass mobster? Or did he do it for Bella O’Brien, to shield her from her husband’s treachery in order to spare her feelings?
If only I knew the answers.
I stared into his eyes, a desperate challenge for him to purge me from my self-doubt, misgivings I was too chicken to say out loud.
“What now, Mac?”
“Now”—he pulled me closer—“you have some explaining to do.”
CHAPTER 35
MacCabe
MY MORNING HAD started before the ass crack of dawn while Otelia slept soundly by my side. Her tranquil, untroubled beauty rendered me speechless. The last thing I’d wanted to do was leave her. Regretfully, it couldn’t be helped. I had lookouts posted at every possible exit point out of Remington; it wasn’t long before I’d gotten the call. The two hired assassins had spit up in their attempt to flee—one took to the air while the other seemingly disappeared without a trace. The captured man was ushered to one of my undisclosed locations and strapped in for the long haul. Ferdi bitched a fit when I told him I was going in alone. I didn’t need his help with this job; it was private and very personal. One look at Otelia, and I was determined as fuck.
As expected, the professional mercenary refused to give up his partner, nor would he confirm who took out the original contract. He paid the ultimate cost for that decision. I took his fingers for accepting the job, his eyes for following through with it, and his cock for an innocent woman who’d nearly died by his hands. Spilling that cunt’s blood hadn’t quelled my thirst for revenge. Until they were both neutralized, my hunger would never be satisfied.
I stopped by my office at the warehouse to shower and change out of my soiled clothes. Between the snot and all the blood, it was not a good look. The ride back to the penthouse was arduous; I felt as if I’d somehow failed. If I were a boss, I’d have O’Brien’s ass in front of the council demanding he back off my territory. I’d make him confess to setting up that hit on Otelia knowing that if he lied, the heads of families would sentence him to death on grounds of dishonesty. If I were a boss, I would walk right up to him and blow his fucking brains out on my own authority. But I wasn’t a boss and never would be, so thinking about all the what ifs of the world pissed me off further.
Old thoughts of inadequacy filled my head as I stepped through the lobby and up the elevator. I walked inside to find Otelia sitting behind my desk, sipping coffee, damn near naked without a care in the world. What the hell was she thinking casually hanging out with Ferdi so close he could smell the scent of her tempting pussy? Then she started spouting bullshit about dealing with O’Brien, using profanity when she knows how much I hated that shit, especially coming from her lovely lips. I’d barely kept it together long enough to hear her out.
Otelia’s little tantrum about overstepping couldn’t have been further from the truth. Had Ferdi not been there, I would’ve shown her just how much. I’d been fighting a raging hard-on for hours, made worse by her killer instincts and desire to help me succeed. Her ideas were brilliant, balls to the motherfucking wall, savage-as-fuck brilliant. But that wasn’t what had my nose wide open or my heart beating out of my chest. It was her uny
ielding allegiance. Otelia revived what Bella had suffocated inside my heart by abandoning me years ago. I felt stronger than ever because of her belief in me. Reigning king of the motherfucking world who could no longer hold back his desire for this sassy woman.
“Explain what?” she gasped.
“Explain to me why you were traipsing around the penthouse in nothing but a silk robe before I walked in? Why this cunt”—I reached down and grabbed a handful—“was on full display to anyone with an imagination and a functioning cock. Lastly, explain why you felt the need to tease me for hours, with said pussy, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it?”
The questions were rhetorical.
“Oh, so now it’s my fault you’re a horndog? You really are an asshole.”
“Last night, I was a fucking god when my dick was buried deep inside your puss. Now I’m an asshole? Make up your mind, baby, ‘cause I’m starting to get whiplash.”
“A god?” she spat. “I believe my exact words were, Oh God, when is this going to be over? I’ve been humped harder by my neighbor’s dog than what you gave me last night. Wasn’t worth staying up late for, I can tell you that.”
See, that right there?
That’s that bullshit.
I attacked her mouth in a bruising kiss to shut her the hell up, something I’d been wanting to do since I’d caught a glimpse of her long-sculptured legs. Her shoulders bunched in shock before she finally gave in. She sagged in my arms as our tongues dueled, savored, fought for ownership like a pair bewitched. I wanted the feel of her soft lips wrapped around my cock, slowly taking me deeper and deeper until I exploded down her throat. I didn’t hesitate. The tie holding her robe closed released easily, exposing her heavy breasts and pebbled nipples. I stepped back, holding her at arm’s length to get a better look.
“Fucking beautiful,” I groaned.
Then I remembered her impudence.
The ill manners.
Her disregard for my rules.
My jaw clenched, aggression mixed with hunger, so potent and raw I could bottle it and place it on a shelf. She had me. If I wasn’t so pissed off, I might’ve smiled at that realization. We fit. Strangely and unexpectedly, I wanted this invited guest to remain at my side, to be here when I returned from spilling blood, to soften the blows of self-loathing when business called for death. To belong to only one man, that man being me. Like my mother had been for my father, I wanted Otelia to be that soothing buffer, a partner in keeping despite being actively involved. Everything, from her sassy attitude to her run-down tennis shoes, I wanted it all. I wanted her.
My pulse quickened. “Time for new particulars, Otelia. Non-negotiable since you seemed to have forgotten our previous ones.”
“I didn’t forget, Mac. Maybe I chose to ignore them. Who’s to say I didn’t want Ferdi to get a good look at my girls? They are impressive, one of my best qualities.”
She raised a teasing eyebrow. My hand wiped out, quick as a cobra, the silken strands of her golden hair locked tightly between my fingers. I yanked her forward off her bare feet against my chest. Our breaths were inches away, mixed with shock and sexual attraction, my skin heated with uncontrolled dominance.
“Don’t test me, kitty cat,” I growled. “I’m not your dead schoolboy, and If I wanted to share, I would’ve done so already. Now, since you were so loose with your mouth a second ago, I think it’s time you learned when to gag, when to choke, and when to shut the fuck up.”
Otelia’s eyes lit with fire, and her expression morphed into something more feral, seductive. She slowly slid the silken fabric from her shoulders, down her back, over her ass, then onto the floor at her feet. She stood proudly naked in front of me, posing as if she were a Playboy centerfold. My cock jumped as I reached for my belt buckle, anxious to fuck her mouth until she was well-informed. I led her over to the leather couch by the hair and forcefully dropped her on her ass. Big blue eyes registered a twinkle of panic before her cheeks flushed as she stared at my hard cock jutting near her face. She licked her lips as if she knew what was coming. I quashed the desire to say good girl. This wasn’t her reward. It was her punishment.
“Lie back, Otelia. Lean your head over the arm of the couch,” I ordered.
Without hesitation, she followed my instruction.
Fucking perfect.
She watched as I stroked my cock from shaft to head, not that it needed any more encouragement. I was set to blow my load if my control waned any more than it already had. The position was awkward at first, if not for the high-end furniture design. It was the perfect height without my having to squat lower to reach her. I shoved my pants down to my knees and stepped behind her shoulders, legs spread, dick inches from her mouth.
“Open wide, Otelia. Taste all of me.”
She dipped lower, craned her neck as far back as it would go. From beneath, she sucked my cock all the way to her tonsils. I nearly buckled when she grabbed the back of my ass and pulled
me flush against her lips. Her luscious tits jingled as she worshipped me just the way I knew she would.
“Mmmm, I love the way you taste, Mac.”
She worked me hard. At this rate, I wouldn’t last long.
“Lift your knees and spread your legs,” I demanded. “Let me see that gorgeous cunt.
I leaned an elbow on the back of the chair to steady myself before I toppled over. My fingers traced the seam of her glistening wet pussy, then dove in deep inside her welcoming heat. She bucked and mewled while keeping pace with her task. Her clit was swollen and pink, peeking out from between her folds, begging for me to suck it while I played in her tight little asshole. I bought her to the brink of ecstasy then denied her release, over and over. She whimpered with frustration. Her enjoyment at sucking me off was not what I’d planned, but it did present me with a pleasing opportunity.
“Should I call your friend, Ferdi? Have him come back and watch while I fuck your pretty little mouth? What do you think he would say if he saw you like this, full of my cock, choking on it?”
I pictured his big ass hovering in the corner with his dick in his hand, watching with rapt interest as Otelia swallowed my dick. My jaw tightened at the thought of her being with anyone other than me. I pushed it aside. She’d never fuck another man as long as I was alive. Even now, I was considering ways to inflict bodily harm on my right-hand man. A grunt rumbled through my chest. The light scrape of her teeth against my shaft nearly sent me over the edge. I took a cleansing breath through my nose. I needed this to last a little longer.
“He wanted me to share you that night at the fights, did you know that? Would you have wanted to be shared, Otelia? Two big cocks, one taking your ass, the other in your warm, tight pussy? Answer me.”
She released me with a pop, licked the underside of my balls with a low hum, breathless. She turned her head slightly to look in my direction. She abandoned the death grip on my ass and curled her fingers around the base of my cock as she stroked long and hard.
“Why not? It’s all just business to you anyway, Mac,” she whispered. “I will never be to you what Bella once was, or perhaps still is. I’m a victim of circumstance, enjoying the ride along the way. I never had to question my schoolboy or his feelings for me, never, not once. I was his everything, a fact he told anyone who would listen.”
I saw it then; not only that, I felt it. Otelia knew how to press my buttons like no other woman before, yet her snide comments weren’t what they seemed at face value. I considered her statements carefully, the pleading in her voice, the troubled eyes, the presumption of betrayal. She needed me to spell it out for her, to make it clear that she belonged to me.
I took a step back from the edge of the couch, forcing her to release the hold she had on my dick. Otelia’s blue eyes glistened with mist before she steeled her shoulders and sat upright, her arms folded over her chest, hiding in plain sight. I held out my hand in her direction, silently requesting that she take it. I led her to my bedroom, positioned her
in the middle of the mattress, spread her legs wide while I removed the rest of my clothing. What needed to be said could only be done while I was inside her, filling her, claiming what was mine.
I sheathed my cock and entered her in one fluid thrust.
We groaned in unison.
“Does this feel like business to you, Otelia?” I stilled inside her snug heat, savoring the feel of her tight muscles as she welcomed me eagerly.
“Feels like heaven, Mac,” she mewled.
“I want you in my bed.” My hips surged forward lazily. “No other man will ever have you again. Your mind and body belong to me now. Say you understand.”
She turned her head, refusing to answer my question. I reached up and pinched one of her pebbled nipples. The action caused her legs to tighten around my ass, sucking me further inside her soaked pussy. I was close to coming, but not before she admitted she was mine. I pulled back, leaving just the tip inside.
“Tell me who owns this pussy, Otelia,” I demanded with a grunt, hovering over her beautiful face, denying her the pleasure she so desperately needed. “Tell me who owns your thoughts and haunts your dreams.”
“Damn it, Mac. It wasn’t supposed to be you…” She gave me back her eyes, full of fire and resolve. “But you own me, Mac. I’m yours.”
Her back arched off the bed, seeking the feel of my cock.
I gave it all to her, along with a piece of my soul.
CHAPTER 36
Otelia
WARP SPEED.
That’s how fast things worked in Mac’s world. Blink, and opportunity would pass you by, throwing up its middle finger as it went on its way. Five days. That’s all the time we had to lay the groundwork towards fucking O’Brien up the ass with a chipped glass bottle. The average Joe fights were scheduled to begin in a few hours, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. You see, not only had Mac agreed to my ideas, he’d put me in charge of the whole kit and caboodle. Me! A know-nothing waitress with a degree in Spanish omelets and hairnets. Didn’t matter a lick that I had no experience with illegal gambling, sports betting, or boxing rules; it was all left in my uncapable hands to figure it out. The more I voiced my objections, the less he gave a fuck. “Tough titty” was his signature response.
48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel) Page 21
