“You need some reinforcements?” I asked.
“For?” TNT replied.
“Cocky bastard,” I replied.
“They just get in the way, make a lot of noise and make it harder to clean up the mess.”
He was certainly right in that respect. “Suit yourself, but he’ll probably be ready for you.”
“Nobody is ever ready for me,” TNT chuckled.
“Alright,” I replied.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“That’s not enough?”
“Just checking,” he answered. “I’ve got a couple of other collections to make in Salt Lake, so I’ll pay him a visit while I’m there.”
“I’m thinking about a quick trip to Vegas in a week or two. You know, just to get the hell out of here and do something different for a change. You up for it?” I hadn’t been on a ride out of town in a while and I was thinking that it might be nice to get a little change of scenery, maybe take Peach with me. God knew she could use a break too.
“I hardly ever turn down a party,” he replied.
“Give me a call when you’ve wrapped things up in Salt Lake.”
“Roger.” He disconnected the call and I stuck the phone back inside the pocket of my leather jacket.
I had just started to pull out of the bank parking lot after making my deposit when he’d called. It had actually been perfect timing. It was a great place to sit on my bike and talk to him without looking suspicious or worrying over someone eavesdropping. There was no reason to believe that anyone was too worried over what we were into, but it just paid off to be discreet.
After disconnecting the call, my thoughts turned back to Peach, her shower, the lotion on her smooth skin and the oversized t-shirt covering her naked body. She’d had enough time to get settled in, so it was about time to drop in for a visit, maybe even suggest that Vegas trip to her. “Who the hell are you foolin’?” I asked myself, grinning. “You just wanna get laid.”
Chapter Six: Peach
I loved it when Bulldog lifted up my hips, spread my ass cheeks and buried his face between them. He seemed to have a tongue that has been specially designed for getting me off and he was using it in full force.
“Oh god, baby, that feels so awesome,” I moaned.
I received no verbal reply, but he stepped up the intensity of what he was doing.
My fingernails dug into the sheet and my eyes rolled back in my head as I felt the waves of pressure becoming more and more compact behind my swollen clit. His tongue was drawing every ounce of energy from my entire body into the one, small area. He had a way of pulling my clit into his mouth and sucking on it, but still stroking it with it tongue. The effect was out of this world and the pressure built into an explosion.
“Oh god!” The moan started as a low growl inside my chest and rose to a scream as the sensation that had built up around my clit suddenly released, and wave upon wave of warm, tingling pleasure radiated throughout my body. That moan and scream wasn’t enough to make him stop, however, and it nearly blew my head off. I had to use my legs to pry his face away from me.
“You liked that, huh?” he grinned.
“God, yes,” I purred. “Now give me that hard on.”
“You gonna make me do all the work?” he teased.
“Fuck you!” I shoved him on his back. “I’m gonna ride that thing until it falls off.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
I had built up my out-of-control state earlier, while thinking about that hot gambler in Reno Gold. It had reached a point by the time that Bulldog arrived that there was little time wasted in preliminaries. In fact, he was barely through the door before I was towing him along behind me toward the bedroom.
Needless to say, with that build up and the amazing tongue job he’d just done on me, I was soaking wet. I lowered myself onto his thick shaft, tilted my head back and groaned deeply as I felt his head part my lips and fill me up. I took him to the hilt, squeezed him and then began to roll my hips back and forth, allowing his fullness to move inside me while my clit got plenty of attention rubbing against him.
Bulldog reached up and started to play with my nipples while I was lost in a world that was centered around the fullness inside of me. His touch sent zingers racing through my body, and I dug my fingernails into his thighs. In response, he squeezed my nipples harder, to the point where they started to hurt. I loved it when they hurt. It did things to me that went well beyond crazy.
“You wanna play rough, then?” I asked, pulling my feet up under me and reaching for his throat. I gripped his thick neck in my hands and squeezed while my ass moved up and down on him like a jockey riding in the Kentucky Derby. My hands were so small compared to his massive neck that they had little effect on blocking his airway, but it damned sure increased our intensity.
In response to my increased pace, he started thrusting up into me as well, nearly throwing me over his head each time. The hammering of his thick head deep inside of me sent me over the edge again. “Oh shit, yes!”
I was still trembling from the orgasm that I’d just had when he flipped me over like I was nothing, jerked my hips up from the bed and plunged that thick rod inside of me from behind. Damn, he could reach deep in that position. At times, it felt like he was going to drive that piece of steel right up through me and out my mouth. He hammered on me for a while and then slowed his pace until he came to a complete stop. I knew that it was my turn again.
Bulldog liked to watch me work my hips on his cock. So I started off slowly, rolling them in circles as I moved back and forth on him. I gripped him with my pussy and pulled on his erection as I moved my hips away and then released that grip and slammed back into him.
“Jesus, Peach, that’s the most beautiful sight on the face of this Earth.”
“You like that?” I purred.
“I love it,” he replied, bringing a stinging slap down onto my left cheek.
We’d come up with a little game in that position. I would start off slow, just like I had, and when he wanted me to speed up, he would slap my ass. That sting would be my signal to speed up. I picked up the rhythm and kept milking his cock.
Smack! That time on the right cheek.
I started working him a little faster.
Smack! Smack! I was increasing my pace to the point where it was difficult for me to concentrate on squeezing him, and my thrusts were beginning to make their own slapping sound against his hips. The frequency of his slaps began to match every thrust I made and he was helping me along with the movement of his hips as well. Something like that might have been awkward for first timers, but Bulldog and I had worked out our rhythm. We both knew exactly how far to thrust or pull away.
After the intensity reached a level that pushed me over the edge again, he grasped my hips, thrust deep inside of me and held my ass against his hips as he emptied his cream deep inside of me.
“Oh god, Peach, Jesus that’s good,” he moaned, trembling a little bit as he lost all of his senses and focused only on the sensation of shooting his load.
“You didn’t get enough while I was gone?” I teased when we were catching out breath.
“There’s never enough when you’re not around,” he replied.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t really care. Bulldog was a great lay. I liked his power, the size of his Johnson, oh, and I can’t forget, the way he used his tongue. I can’t say that I had become totally exclusive to him myself, but whenever I really needed to have my ashes hauled, Bulldog was the go-to guy. To take care of my physical needs, even to the point of providing me income, he was a great match, but there was a deeper need growing in me that he couldn’t take care of. In a lot of ways, I hadn’t defined it well enough to know how to take care of it myself.
In short, I was restless. It wasn’t a completely new feeling. It had been there for a while, but I hadn’t noticed it until I got out of the shower. Something had started eating at me. My thoughts were interrup
ted by a snort and the deep rumbling of a slumbering bear coming from the open mouth of the big man beside me. Though I’d just screwed the guy, I realized that I really didn’t like him or respect him. It wasn’t something that I had really considered before.
The same thoughts that had been in my brain earlier that afternoon returned. How was it that someone so ignorant had so much to show for himself and someone like me had so little? Why was I allowing myself to be used, though paid for what I did, for his purposes and not enjoy a slice of the pie for myself? Why not enjoy the whole pie? That first little twinkle in my mind had taken root. I wasn’t sure how I would go about snatching that pie away from him, nor if it was even a good idea to try. I only knew that I wanted it. And I knew that what I wanted, I would get.
Chapter Seven: TNT
I suppose that having nerves of steel came naturally to me. I had never been afraid of anything. Well, that’s not true actually, I’d been afraid of a sixth grader when I was in the fourth grade. Billy Bartholomew, who was probably angry for no other reason than his name, had found it to be his lot in life to take my lunch money on a regular basis. At first, I’d tried to avoid him, I did some crazy things to keep from getting caught by him, but he always seemed to track me down anyway. The pressure and the fear kept eating at me until it finally came to a breaking point. Something inside me snapped and I stood up to him.
I was pretty sure that he was going to kill me, but I’d had about enough of his shit and I didn’t really give a damn anymore. It hadn’t taken much to take him down. In fact, I had realized that whenever I went postal, I felt sort of a surge of super-power, like my turbocharger had kicked in and given me an extra boost. Billy had never known what hit him. Nobody fucked with me after that.
I smiled at the memory as I watched Denny’s place from concealment and assessed what I was about to walk into. I’d made a visit to Denny, who was our meth distributor, before, and I’d left a rather poignant message. Several broken bones and some kidney problems, which had had him pissing blood for a week, hadn’t been enough to bring him around to the Hell Dogs’ way of thinking about what rightfully belonged to him and what belonged to us. The problem with showing up again was that I was pretty sure that he knew I was coming and that he would be waiting for me, likely with reinforcements.
When defusing a bomb, you took it slow. There was a step-by-step method of securing the area around you, assessing the situation and the device, putting together a plan and then carefully and deliberately executing that plan. Basically, it was a game of chess with an opponent who had set up the board with your king in check, and you had to try to figure out how to get out of it. The drawback was that instead of losing your king, a mistake would get your face blown off.
Since Billy Bartholomew, I had learned to watch my own back. I had learned to be cool and, for the most part, to defuse things with good humor and a friendly manner. Denny had taken things past friendly a very long time ago. It was time to put him out of business, and it could be done the easy way or the hard way. I was pretty sure that he was going to choose the hard way.
I’d seen guys coming and going for several hours and had started to pick up a pattern. Denny had put together a security force that rotated on a regular basis so that everyone was fresh. It looked to me like he had nine guys total and three fresh guys on duty at all times. Though three guys had just left and were probably off for six hours or so, I had no doubts that they weren’t far away and could be brought in pretty quickly. Things were going to be tricky unless I did them just right.
The best time to hit a security detail was toward the end of their shift. It was human nature to start looking at one’s watch and becoming a little bit sloppy just before your replacement showed up. I’d use that complacency to my advantage, but I’d have to get in and get out before the new crew arrived. I’d also have to be quiet. Very quiet.
I reached in my jacket pocket, pulled out the silencer and screwed it onto the barrel of my M45A1 Colt. It had been the choice of Marine Special Ops pukes for several years and I’d gotten my hands on one via a buddy who was pretty slick at shuffling inventory. I’d heard that the new thing among Navy SEALs was the 9mm Glock 19, but I’d been happy with the .45’s extra bit of knockdown power and I was a jarhead, not a frogman.
I’d scoped out my entry point and waited for darkness to help cover my approach. The shift would change just after dark, so I knew that I couldn’t wait much longer. I crept out of my hiding spot on cat feet and made my way around to the back door. There was guard there, and I would have to time things just right if I was going to take him out without a sound. The sharp, softened puff of a silenced .45 was still louder than I wanted that first takedown to be, so I tucked the Colt in my waistband and reached for my knife.
I moved quietly into position, waited for that moment when he turned, and made my move. I didn’t particularly care for being a killer, but I had pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Any hesitation in the way that I grabbed and took out my target would result in failure and my own death. I took the guy out, hearing only the soft grunt of surprise as he felt me grab him and in the same instant felt the blade pierce through his skin.
Laying him out quietly, I tucked the knife back in its scabbard and crouched in front of the door. I listened a moment and then moved forward. I could hear the noise of the television and knew that it wasn’t the guards, but my target. I considered double-tapping his head and having the whole thing over with, but I had to know that the guy’s security forces weren’t going to return the favor. Besides, I wanted him to have one more chance to see me, maybe confess his sins and be forgiven.
I found the second guard working the hallway inside the house. He would, if he was any good, have a point in his rounds when he could put his eyes on each of his compadres in turn. As soon as he noticed that the guy at the backdoor didn’t pass by, he would no doubt sound an alert. I had to get to him before he did that. No sooner had I finished the thought than he stopped and stared toward a window in the kitchen. He was about to speak when the first .45 caliber round hit him.
They were wearing whisper mics and I knew what that meant: Guard three would have heard that round over his headset. I had to move quickly, because he would not only be alert, but would have also called in reinforcements. I had to get to the target and I might not be able to spend any quality time with him. I followed the sound of the television and located Denny in his skivvies watching the stupidest show on television: Two Broke Girls. It suited the size of his brain.
“Hi, Denny,” I said, leveling the pistol at him and slipping a chair under the doorknob to slow down the guard who would be coming any second.
His eyes widened and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Sorry we don’t have time to talk.” As I spoke, I noticed his hand creeping down toward his side. “I wouldn’t…” I put two rounds between his eyes before he had lifted the weapon above his thigh. In that same moment, I heard boots coming down the hall and hitting the door. It held, but a second hit would break it open. I went for the only exit in the room and didn’t bother with raising the bottom half of the window before plunging through it.
A bullet struck the remainder of the upper frame, just as I dropped below the jamb. I hit the ground, rolled and sprinted for the back corner of the house. Another round made splinters in the wood trim on the corner. I didn’t slow down and I didn’t look back.
Chapter Eight: Peach
It was the surprise of my life to see who walked into the hotel suite where Bulldog and I were staying for our little bit of R&R. Initially, since the thought of figuring out a way to take everything away from him had first entered my mind, I considered declining his invitation to a long weekend in Vegas. After some thought, however, I decided that the best thing to do was to stay close to him and watch for an opportunity. I’d nearly wet myself when the gambler I’d seen in Reno walked through the door.
I was pleased with the flash of recognition that I saw in his eyes
when he first saw me, but I was also impressed with how quickly he was able to cover it up.
“TNT,” Bulldog said, introducing me as he closed the door behind our guest. “This is Peach. She has another name, but that’s the one they gave her in the Corps. She does a lot of courier work for me. I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into her in Reno.”
“Leila,” I said, extending my hand. I figured it was better to use a real name for that introduction, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Trevor,” he replied, taking my hand and bowing slightly. “I’ve seen her once. I know it was only once, because I would never forget a face like hers.”
I looked up in time to see a sinister cloud drift across Bulldog’s eyes. Interesting, I thought. I knew that Bulldog was possessive, but what I’d seen in that moment was something different. It was a mixture of jealousy, envy and superiority. I wondered how it would play out.
“What ya drinkin’?” Bulldog asked, covering up whatever it was that he really felt for the man. He’d told me that he was an old buddy from the Corps, but hadn’t gone into much detail.
“I’m assuming that you have some damned good scotch, unless I miss my guess,” Trevor grinned. Though he certainly was a well-bundled package of explosives, I couldn’t bring myself to call him TNT.
“You’re a good guesser,” Bulldog countered and then took a dig at him. “Is that how you choose between the blue and the red wire?”
I wrinkled my brow as I observed the conversation and wasn’t sure what was behind Bulldog’s comment. Trevor filled me in.
“I was an explosives expert in the Corps, that’s why they call me TNT.” He made a funny expression with his lips and then continued. “And the fact that my name is Trevor Thomas doesn’t hurt either.”
AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) Page 16
