“Tell me what you want me to do, Lyric. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
No was the right answer, the sane answer, the logical answer. But my body would only scream yes.
I needed him as strongly as he needed me—even more. He doesn’t hesitate at all. Like a laser, his mouth honed in on the perfect spot.
His kiss was an assault on my mouth—his tongue forcing my lips open with their power, giving me no choice but to kiss him back even harder. His lips were warm against mine, his kiss going from slow and comforting to hard and penetrating. He claims my mouth, letting me know that it’s his to do with what he wants, just like the rest of me. He bites my lip and pulls it, driving me crazy.
My hands gripped his shoulders, unconsciously digging my nails into his skin. I feel his hands pull up on my ass and I wrap my legs tight around him. Our lips still engaged in war, I don’t know where he’s taking me until he stops walking and we’re in what I can only assume is his bedroom. Putting my feet down on the floor I waste no time in removing my clothing. After a few moments, and his help, I’m standing against him in nothing but my thong.
Gripping him hard, I fall to my back, pulling him down on top of me and inviting him between my legs—an invitation he gladly accepts, prying them open even further with a push on the inside on my knees. On top of me, his body is hot, and his lips are fire. I feel everything inside of me come alive with energy, heating my own skin and making little beads of sweat form all over me.
His body is a blanket on top of me, heating me further as his mouth violates mine in all the ways I want it to. My nipples are firm, pressing into the hardness of his chest. He stands back up to take off his clothes. He slowly pulls his sleek black boxer briefs down off his waist and down past his hips, until what had been an impressive black bulge transformed into an even more impressive nine inches of beauty.
It was as gorgeous as he was—long and thick, and displayed in its picturesque beauty, pointed at my body. He moved towards me, closer to where I sat longingly at the edge of the bed. He falls back on top of me.
What was happening between us had nothing to do with love—this was about our bodies, and the lust that draws them together like they’re magnetized to one another. All the passion, all the resentment, all the hate I’d built up for him over ten years was spilling over into every passionate touch—into my nails in his back, my tongue inside his mouth, my legs wrapped around his body.
Our bodies were fire. Beads of sweat forming from the friction we were creating. I wanted every inch of him. Every part of his body. Everything.
I wanted him to make me his again—to take me in ways I’ve never been taken, and to make me forget all the reasons that this was wrong.
He grips onto my hair with a powerful grab and my head jerks towards my ass until I’m at the exact angle he wanted me, frozen in place as his powerful thrusts slapped hard against my ass. The sound excites me—the sound of him using my body like he’s always wanted to.
His fist opens, releasing my hair and my head falls down on the mattress. His hands find their way to my hips, and his powerful cock slams in and out of me so hard that it shakes the bed.
For ten years I’d thought about what having Preacher inside of me would feel like but this is beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Every inch of his cock fits my pussy perfectly and all thoughts of the past fly from my mind. All I can think about is the fire burning inside me, threatening to engulf my entire existence as he pumps in and out of me.
I’ve never been one to be loud in bed, but all of my previous partners have paled in comparison to what Preacher is doing to my body.
“Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh my God,” are the only words my brain can form.
“Fuck Lyric, your body is fucking amazing,” he says, his fingers digging into my hips as he continues to fuck me.
My back arches as he hits a sweet spot I didn’t even known I had.
I cry out and hear him growl behind me. He slows his pace and the banging of the headboard ceases momentarily. Just as I start to catch my breath, Preacher pulls slowly out before slamming the full length of his cock back inside me, causing me to cry out his name.
“I love my name on your lips,” he says as he continues to take possession of my body. “Scream for me, Lyric. Tell me what you want.”
I don’t know what to say. The feeling of his cock fucking me is blocking all normal brain functions.
I can feel the coil of my orgasm tightening almost to the breaking point. Without warning, Preacher fists my hair again and pulls me to his body. The sudden sensation is enough to break the coil. As his lips slam against mine, an intense heat spreads from my center until my whole body tingles. I moan into his mouth and he growls in response.
As I ride out the waves of my orgasm, he releases my hair and takes a firm hold of my hips. Slamming my ass against his hips as he fucks me, I feel his cock start to spasm as his own orgasm overtakes him.
“Lyric,” is all me manages to growl out as he holds me tight against him as he rides his own orgasm wave.
All of my nerve endings are still firing and we’re both covered in a sheen of sweat from the culmination of ten years of pent up sexual wanting.
Preacher collapses next to me on his bed and looks deeply into my eyes.
“You are mine,” is all he says to me as he pulls me to him.
I knew back then that he would claim me as his, mind, body, and soul. Something inside me broke tonight and I may be ready to accept the truth to his declaration.
As I lean into him, I just hope that this time won’t be a repeat of our past. I don’t think I could survive losing him again.
Thirty-Three—Lyric
The Present
I thought I was an early riser, but he’s already up and out of bed.
I open my eyes and feel the softness of his sheets underneath my naked body. Looking around, I expect to see Lucien next to me, but instead I hear the shower running, see a nice pressed suit laid out next to me in place of his naked body, and smell coffee brewing.
I sit up, still groggy and still processing what happened last night.
That was easily the best and most satisfying sex I’ve ever had. Lucien was an uncaged beast, ravaging my body and taking my mind with it. It felt incredible. It felt like a decade in the making.
It also felt wrong.
It shouldn’t have. We’re both single. I came here willingly and wanted everything that happened to happen.
But still I feel guilty. I can’t shake it. I try to tell myself to just shut up and go with the flow. I have the man I’ve always wanted naked and showering a few feet from me. I’ve had a great time with him, and the whole thing might lead to a great job and financial freedom. I should be doing nothing but smiling ear to ear. So why can’t I?
Instead of letting myself continue to over analyze the situation, I decide to get my very sore ass up and out of bed to get some coffee. It feels good going down—warm and comforting. I’m going to need the energy today for sure. I have work to do.
I hear his footsteps coming out of the bedroom. When I turn, he’s standing there naked as the day he was born, beads of water still drying on his chiseled chest. Good morning to me.
“Stealing my coffee?” he jokes.
“After what I let you do to me last night it’s the least you can give me.”
“You mean besides all the orgasms? You’re a tough negotiator. I’m going to love having you. . . on my team, that is.”
He smiles and pours himself a cup of naked coffee. I stare at his ass like I’ve never seen a guy’s ass before. His whole back would give Adonis an inferiority complex—his back is muscled, his ass tight and beautiful, even his calves are obviously those of a guy who takes his physique very seriously.
“I’m not on your team yet,” I remind him, as he turns around and I get a look at the full monty. “You know, it’s really hard to have a business conversation with you with. . . that thing swinging around.”
“Y
ou think it’s easy for me? There are guys who try to have big dick energy, and then there are guys like me with actual big dicks and a lot of energy. It’s my cross to bear.”
“Stop messing around, can you seriously put on a pair of boxers so we can talk about this job thing without your dick on my mind.”
“Sweetheart, my dick will be on your mind no matter what I’m wearing.” I walked right into that one. “But,” he continues, “in the nature of business, I’ll cover the monster so he doesn’t scare you.”
“You’re such a gentleman, thank you.”
When he comes back out of his room, he’s put on underwear and nothing else—and tight ones that cover him but leave me with a giant—and I mean giant—bulge to try and not stare at. I guess it’s better than nothing. Sort of.
“Now, about that job. Enough secrecy, what exactly do you want from me?” He grins and his eyebrow goes up like Jack Nicholson in. . . well, every face Jack Nicholson has ever made. I really need to watch how I say things when I’m trying to be serious. “Forget that—what job do you want me to do for your company?”
I’m still sipping my coffee, but he takes his down in a single gulp like he’s just met caffeine for the first time. “I need your psychological expertise.”
“Well I figured that part since those are the only real skills I have.”
“Don’t sell yourself short—you give gold medal winning head. And that thing you did when you squeezed me. . .”
“Lucien!” I yell. “Focus. I meant my professional skills.”
“I know what you meant. I just wanted to praise you in all areas you are clearly talented in.”
“Thank you,” I say dismissively, even though inside I’m smiling. “Now, what about my psychological expertise? What’s the job?”
“Working with people. Hopefully in the building I’m trying to get up.”
Could he be any more vague? “Working with people, got it. And. . .”
There’s the Jack Nicholson grin. “I don’t want to get too into it until I know the project is going forward full force, and that’s why I’m headed to court.”
Court. “Oh,” I say. “You made it seem like it was a sure thing.”
“Because I don’t ever expect or plan to fail, Lyric. Only losers think like that. And don’t worry, I’ll get the building up and the job I offered you will be there. Sometimes you just have to fight viciously for what you want. And as you know, I’ve never been afraid of a good fight.”
Afraid? It’s the opposite. He loves a good fight. But now I’m worried that I’m being lied to.
“I know you don’t plan to lose, but what happens if. . .”
“Our deal stands,” he says. “I’m a man of my word and I’ll pay for the things I said I would, even if by some accident of the universe things didn’t work out. Don’t worry about that.”
“Okay.” I’m hesitant. Those feelings I had come flooding back and I wonder what the hell I’m doing. My unresolved issues with him have their own unresolved issues, and I’m in his bed accepting his money. He can tell by the tone in my voice that I’m uneasy.
“Hey,” he says, pulling my chin up and looking me right in the eyes. “Do you trust me?” I nod. “Then don’t worry. We’ll talk more after I see what happens today. What do you have going on?”
“I have a session at noon.” That’s mostly the truth. I’m just not telling him what kind of session it is.
“Good,” he says, going back into his bedroom to get completely dressed. “Keep making people better. I’ll keep fucking them up.”
I finish my coffee as he disappears into the room and gets suited up.
I think about his question, and then I think about my real answer.
Of course I trust you, Lucien. The problem is I don’t trust myself when I’m around you.
Thirty-Four—Preacher
The Present
I sit in the back of the courtroom. It’s better that way. The back gives me a view of everything and everyone. I like to be early to things—on time is late to me, so it’s pretty much me in the back and Pope at his little lawyer table, and court stenographer. Now all we have to do is wait for the suits to show up and then it’s battle time.
I have a few minutes on my hands and I don’t do boredom, so I take out my phone. It’s 11:30. Lyric’s almost in one of her sessions. Almost.
Me: Next time I’m going to make you cum at least three times. I have to better myself.
Lyric: Well hello to you too. In court?
Me: Three times with three different parts of me—I’m thinking finger, tongue, and cock, but I’m open to more creative suggestions. I’m sure you have toys.
Lyric: Shouldn’t you be focused on your case?
Me: I’m focused on that tight little pussy of yours, and all the criminal things I’m going to do to it later tonight.
Lyric: I didn’t know I was seeing you later.
Me: You are. You might want to take a nap to build up your strength for what I’m going to put you through. Just a suggestion. We’re fucking either way.
Lyric: That right?
Me: If you have to ask that then you don’t know who you’re talking to.
Lyric: I guess I’ll have to schedule a nap then. Text me after court. Focus.
Me: Yeah, yeah. Later.
The courtroom doors open next to me and in walk the suits, taking their little penguin march to the table that’s adjacent to Pope. My brother smiles what would probably look like a cocky smile to anyone else, but I know why he’s doing it. Whenever we’d get into a scrap—which was no short amount of times—we’d loved being outnumbered. Sounds crazy, right? Who wants to be outnumbered in a fight? The Carter brothers, that’s who, because we knew what it really meant. It meant that whoever we were fighting felt like they needed an army just to deal with the two of us. That’s when we knew we were going to win.
Like now.
Team angry financial assholes = 4 at table, and a small battalion sitting on the other side opposite me.
Team Carter = 2.
I like those numbers.
But speaking of scraps Pope and I got into as kids, look who just walked into court.
He’s ten years older but I’d remember that face anywhere.
Draven Griffin, in the flesh.
When I see him, my blood boils. I didn’t expect to have such a reaction to him. It’s when he grins at me that I feel murderous for the first time in a long time—he and I have unfinished business, and he knows it. He’s the reason for. . .
“All rise!” someone calls out as the door at the back of the courtroom opens.
The judge enters the room as I nod my head and turn away. Time and place, Lucien, time and place.
The plot just thickened.
Ten minutes later, we’ve won a short-term victory. All the motions they filed to stop us from going ahead with construction were dismissed out of hand. They put up a good fight, but no one can touch my brother in here. For every argument they put up, he had a better counter argument. I could see the judge almost admiring my brother. That’s when I knew the decision was going to go our way before he even said the words.
I give baby bro a lot of shit, but he’s the man.
When it’s over, they all funnel out of there in a huff—doing their little penguin march out the door the same as they did walking in, only now they don’t have those smug looks on their faces.
Winning feels so fucking good I can’t stand it.
One person stays behind—Draven. I was waiting for it. He approaches me and Pope comes over.
“Long time no see,” Pope says. “Sorry things didn’t go your way. Oh, wait, I’m not fucking sorry at all. Later.”
But there are still things to be said between the two of us—we have about a decade’s worth of unfinished business.
“Your brother’s still a cocky little asshole I see. He doesn’t know, does he?”
“He does. You think I’d keep that a secret from him?”
“Same here. Sucks it has to be somewhere I can’t kick your fucking ass—again.”
He smiles. “That’s the thing with people like you and your trashy family,” he says with an arrogant grin. “You think you can beat your way through life. That’s exactly why you ended up in the position you did.”
Every syllable he says closes another finger on my right hand. Once I get to a full fist, I’m going back to jail for attempted murder. Cops won’t have to look hard to find me, being that I’m in a courtroom.
“You’ve got a lot of balls when you’re protected by everything around you, Draven. See that’s the problem with people like you and your family—you think you can build a fortress with your money and influence that protects you from the real world. I’ve got two hands that’ll disprove that theory real quick.”
We don’t say anything for a second, just stare at each other. Being face to face with him I feel a flood of anger for everything that happened. I wish I could do something about it. I’ll just take the victory that the judge gave us as a consolation prize until I can get some real satisfaction.
“I think we’re done here. We whooped your ass legally. Next time, I won’t need a judge.”
“Enjoy your little win. It’s temporary. In the end, we’ll get what we want. We always do.”
“What the hell are you even doing here?” I ask.
“I’m visiting from California,” he says. “Coincidence is a funny thing, isn’t it? I was just doing the good son thing and visiting Mom and Dad, when, all of a sudden, I hear that we’re involved in some litigation. Who with, I asked? When I heard the Carter Organization, I almost started drooling.”
“That’s cause you’re an idiot. Don’t blame me for that.”
“Funny. But once I heard that, I canceled all of my plans. I’ll be sticking around a little longer. No matter how this stupid judge ruled, I’m still going to make sure your little pet project burns, asshole.” He stops mid sentence and covers his mouth sarcastically. “Oh, too soon? I guess mentioning fire is a sensitive subject, isn’t it? Sorry.”
Preacher: The East End Boys Page 18
