Mine

by Kenya Wright

  Everyone stood on the outside waiting for me. Takako had to apply more lipstick and fix some of the bodysuit on the side.

  They smirked a few times while they made the adjustments. “I see he’s a wild beast.”

  Blushing, I gave them no response as I headed to Trigger.

  Trigger stood on the center of the stage, staring at me with longing the entire time. I had no idea if he was trying to get in character or what, but there was no reason for him to look at me that way. Our history hadn’t been long, and even crazier, he never kept it real while we dated. We were more strangers than friends.

  The director signaled for the sound guys to play the music. The choreographer made some claps to start us in our counts. I hurried to Trigger and did the counts in my head.

  “You look amazing, Zola.” He grinned.

  “Thank you.” I focused on my breaths. “You too. The video will rock.”

  “It will, now that you’re in it.” Trigger signaled behind me. “Do you like my new addition?”

  “What?” I checked in the direction he’d gestured.

  A small bed lay behind us, covered in bright pink rose petals. Just like the ones that had been scattered all over my apartment’s bed.

  I froze. “Why?”

  “I thought it would be sexy.”

  “Why bright pink petals?”

  “You like them over red roses.”

  I hadn’t remembered telling him that.

  Did he do this intentionally to make it known he’s my stalker, or did he really come up with this corny idea all of a sudden?

  My heartbeat pulsed hard in my throat.

  He continued, “During the hook, we’re going to get on the bed and just play around as a couple.”

  The music came on. Trigger began rocking his head and slipping into his rap persona. There was no time to talk about it more.

  I forced myself to follow along with the song even though as each lyric came closer to the hook, I glanced with worry at the bed.

  20

  Teaching Her A Lesson

  Hunter

  Jaw set with steely resolve, I watched Zola dance around Trigger. I made myself remain where I stood, although I wanted to stomp up there, pick Zola up, and carry her off the stage.

  She was beautiful. That couldn’t be denied. Her body was a masterpiece. But it was all on display for everyone to see. And I understood that she was a model. I got that she would be naked at times for the purpose of art and fashion.

  But does it have to be today, while I’m here?

  My cock grew stiffer in my pants. There was nothing on my mind but getting Zola alone and more naked. Gone was my focus on the stalker. As soon as I spotted Zola in that outfit, I couldn’t look away.

  What the hell had I been thinking letting her go?

  My phone buzzed.

  I checked it.

  York: You never called me back. Is everything going okay?

  I put the phone up, not ready to respond to that answer.

  I was trying to be politically correct. Zola was a woman—a damn sexy and independent one. If she had a job to do, I was supposed to let her, regardless if everyone could see every inch of her curvy flesh. No matter that this creep danced around her and looked like he was close to sneaking a few touches in the name of making a good video.

  Watch it, Trigger. I’ll fucking break your other fingers.

  Zola didn’t understand what she’d started. She’d now made my desire into a contest. She'd issued a challenge with her words in the dressing room and the way she twisted out of there.

  “Do you know how long I’ve thought of tasting your pussy?”

  “No, but if you want it so bad, come and take it.”

  No real man could back away from that kind of a dare. And I planned on teaching her a lesson. The urge to dominate her flowed through me, making my head even crazier. I fisted my hands at my sides, desperate to calm myself down.

  Kissing Zola had been everything I'd imagined, and even more things that I hadn't. I had expected her sweet taste but was unprepared for the scorching heat. I knew if I tasted her mouth for too long, more hunger would arise and damn near burn out my insides. But what happened was an explosion of need in my cock. I'd expected a little fight to get the pussy, but she'd responded with an adamant invitation.

  I’m going to show you.

  She had to understand that I wasn't anyone she could tease.

  Those feelings her touch summoned still strummed deep in me even as I stood there watching. They should have left me the moment I moved from her lips, but still, the emotional sensations came. And my desire for her felt stronger.

  It had somehow grown even more.

  It ate at me.

  And her words went straight to my cock, which was why it was still hard and in pain.

  I groaned as she rocked back and forth on the stage. That tiny diamond pattern between her thighs didn’t leave much else to the imagination.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and focused on my breaths. In and out. I had to get control of my desire and anger. In one second, I wanted to run up there and fuck her in front of everybody to show she belonged to me. In the next, I considered grabbing a blanket, covering her up, and taking her away.

  Trigger pulled Zola into a hug and began rubbing himself on her as he rapped. I could tell it wasn’t part of the choreography due to the expression on Zola’s face. At first, it was a look of shock and then annoyance. Still rocking with the song, she slipped out of his grip and smiled as she continued to rock with the beat further away.

  Trigger returned to her.

  She slipped out of his grip and swung her hips.

  Frowning, Trigger slashed the air and yelled at the director, “Cut!”

  The music ended.

  The dancers paused.

  “Yo, someone explain to her who’s running this situation today.” Trigger gestured at Zola.

  She frowned. “I’m doing the steps. Those weren’t part of the steps.”

  “It won’t all be the choreography routine. I’m feeling the groove right now, and you need to flow with it.”

  She glared at him. “This isn’t my first music video.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Let’s just stick with the steps.”

  Trigger gave out a dark chuckle. “First of all—”

  “We’re done.” I walked over to the stage and climbed on top with ease. “You’ve got enough footage of Zola.”

  Trigger formed his hands into fists. “And look at this guy. He thinks he’s fucking Chuck Norris or something.”

  I growled.

  “Okay! Okay!” The director got on the stage. “No one cares about Chuck Norris or anything like that. We’re fucking up the timing. I need more shots and—”

  “You know what? Zola has been out of line from the beginning. Tell this bitch that she doesn’t run this video.” Trigger’s voice rose high and spittle flew from his lips. “What we’re going to do is, when the music comes on, I’m going to—”

  I punched him in the face. His bones cracked under my fists. Someone screamed on the side.

  Trigger fell back and crashed to the floor. I hit him again, so he would stay down. Blood splattered with that one. I threw in another hit because the second one felt so good. By the time the fourth came, Zola’s scream yanked me out of my enjoyment, grabbing at my arms and begging me to stop.

  I rose and left the bastard coughing up blood on his fake cloud stage.

  “What the fuck?!” The director ran to him. “Jesus Christ! Jesus Fucking Christ! Did he kill him?! Who the hell is this guy?”

  Trigger’s security marched onto the stage.

  But my men arrived too. After the eyeball roses, Baptiste had called everyone in.

  Ten guys stepped out of the shadows and pointed their guns in Trigger’s security’s direction. I hadn’t intended for my men to be revealed until there was an actual emergency.

  Meanwhile, Trigger’s security understood the r
eality of the situation. They stepped back, probably not wanting to tangle with me while trying to dodge bullets.

  Zola was staring at Trigger. The dancers hurried over to get a closer look at the beat-up rapper too.

  My eyes remained on her. She snapped her attention my way.

  “Okay. Okay.” The director paced. “Let’s just get some shots of Zola while—”

  “She’s done,” I barked, stepping right into the camera’s view. The guy operating it raised his head, opened his mouth in shock, and stepped away from the camera.

  “Who the hell are you?!” the director yelled. “And where the hell is security!?”

  I turned and shot him a look that had him stepping back too.

  “Hunter, I’m fine.” Zola grabbed my hand. The feel of her soft fingers eased my anger.

  “Fuck this video and this deal.” I guided her off the stage. “He doesn’t get to paw over and disrespect you.”

  She didn’t say anything. Her mouth was just open in shock as she took it all in.

  “Jesus fucking Christ! Who is that guy?” The director pulled out his phone. “Trigger isn’t getting up, and even if he did, he won’t have the sense anymore to rap. Did anyone call the cops?”

  Someone mentioned, “The cops are already here.”

  “Where are they then?!” the director shouted.

  “They’re in the break area eating bagels.”

  “Get their asses in here!”

  I quickened our steps as the rest of the studio’s security hurried in. They must’ve been told that some conflict had come, but probably not what happened or who did it.

  Zola still didn’t say a word as she hurried at my pace, wobbling in those ridiculous heels.

  “I have you.” I grabbed her.

  “Hunter!” Zola shrieked as I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder.

  People rushed by us. Chatter ensued. Gossip would be all over the place by the evening. I kept moving toward her dressing room, not even stopping when I heard her heels fall off her feet.

  When I made it to her dressing area, I shut the door.

  “Sorry.” I placed her on her feet.

  She gazed up in shock. “You punched him…a lot.”

  “He rubbed his dick on you.”

  She looked away. “He did. I’d planned on hitting him myself, after the video.”

  “No, that’s what your bodyguard is for.”

  She bit her lip, knowing what my gaze was saying to her. “York is going to be pissed.”

  “I’ll deal with York.”

  She whispered, “We should probably go. They called the cops.”

  “We’re not going anywhere. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have something I want to do first.” I gripped that see-through bodysuit of hers with scattered diamonds, and I ripped it right down the center. The gems fell away from her body, crashing onto the polished mahogany floor. The thin material shredded and ripped in seconds. Just threads in my fingers, it all dropped.

  And the whole time, Zola’s breathing increased as she licked her lips. I gazed at her, needing to watch her expressions as I damaged her.

  With the bodysuit gone, only a tiny thong remained. Chocolate brown nipples greeted my eyes. My cock jerked.

  She blinked as a silly grin appeared on her face. “The bodysuit was thirty thousand dollars, and specially hand sewn for this video.”

  “Tell them to send me the bill. That’s what happens, when you taunt me.”

  “You punch people and rip off clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  “We should go.” She placed her hands on my chest.

  I took a step forward.

  Still touching me, she retreated until her back hit the wall. “Hunter…what are you doing?”

  “Let me show you.” I used one hand to raise her chin. She had to look me right in the eyes. With the other hand, I traced along her pussy. Her breathing picked up as I began to slide my fingers along her folds, slowly caressing those soft folds, causing her to stir. I hissed at her wetness, the utter soft moistness of that pussy.

  Biting her lips, she spread her legs a little as if giving me an unofficial invitation.

  I groaned. “I bet your pussy tastes so good.”

  She parted her lips, but I wasn’t patient enough for her response. I pressed my mouth against hers, stroking her with my tongue, coaxing her to spread those thighs more.

  “Can I taste you?” I whispered.

  “Yes.” She rubbed her pussy against my hand.

  I growled and parted those soft folds, giving light flutters to her throbbing clit.

  “Oh my god.” She came close to straddling my hand as she wrapped her arms around my neck and landed hungry kisses on my face.

  “What did you think, when you wore that outfit?” I rasped against her mouth. “You thought I was going to let you walk out of this building without touching this pussy?”

  She moved those hips the same way she did on stage, but this time she closed her eyes, lost in real lust, rocking that hungry body.

  “What did you think?” I pushed my finger into that wet pussy, groaning at how fucking tight she was.

  “Damn, Hunter.” She breathed against me.

  “Oh, it’s damn now?” I gripped the back of her head, pushing my fingers through her thick, curly locks as I finger fucked her with my other hand. I stroked her clit with my thumb.

  She shrieked, shivering in pleasure against me.

  “I told you to wait, and you taunted me.”

  Her words rode erratic breaths. “I didn’t.”

  “You’ll see what happens, when you aren’t patient.” I dropped to my knees in front of her and snatched that tiny thong away, fast. I was so hungry. I didn’t even give her time to react before I spread her thighs and lapped at that soft, wet pussy.

  “Hunter,” she gasped and gripped my shoulders.

  I growled when her lushness slipped along my tongue. She was sweeter than I dreamed she would be. My hands caressed her inner thighs as I licked and sipped. I had to drink her. Every drop.

  My cock ached to be inside her, but I ignored it. It lay in my pants, heavy and growing. Greed throbbed at the tip. Pre-cum spilled out, messing up my boxer briefs.

  Be patient.

  I had to make her scream first. Before I sank my cock into that wet pussy, I had to hear her moan my name several times.

  Noise continued outside as people realized the video shoot would end today. I’d knocked Trigger out hard and hadn’t planned on him waking up for a while. He’d be too dizzy to rap or do anything else. Hopefully, he would need to see a dentist to deal with a shattered tooth and possible broken jaw.

  Either way, the video shoot was over, and people were scrambling to figure out what would happen next.

  And inside Zola’s dressing area, I ate her pussy, wanting her to moan. Loud.

  Let them hear what I do to you. Especially Trigger and any other man that stared at your body today.

  I wouldn’t sink my cock into her until the moment she screamed my name over and over. And everyone had to hear it, especially the piece of shit stalker that I knew would be hanging around the mansion today. Even he had to listen to how she moaned for me.

  No, motherfucker. She’s mine, not yours.

  “Oh, Hunter,” she groaned, and I picked up my pace, licking her pussy more and making tiny swirls around her clit.

  Groaning, I increased the pressure on her hips. I had to possess her as well as dominate her. I buried my face between her legs again, rubbing my nose and lips all over her pussy.

  “Oh!” She humped my face, slicking my skin with her arousal.

  “This is my pussy,” I grunted, my whole face wet with her. I didn’t give a fuck.

  She trembled.

  “My pussy.” I shifted to sliding my tongue in and out of her tightness, trying to lick all of her up before going back to her clit.

  “Mine.” I sucked her clit into my mouth.
/>   “Hunter!” Her sweetness filled my mouth as her body jerked against my face. “Oh!”

  After a few seconds, her body went slack.

  I held her close, giving that sweet pussy a kiss and making her body jerk again.

  I lifted her into my arms and carried her over to the sofa. She curled in my lap, burying her face in my neck. “Oh my god.”

  I stared at the shredded bodysuit on the floor.

  Ambulance sirens sounded off in the distance. Trigger’s soft ass probably needed to go to the hospital. He was baby powder soft and shouldn’t have called himself Trigger. But, even more, he should’ve never thought he could talk to Zola that way.

  “Amazing,” she whispered.

  “You taste so good.”

  “I want to taste you.”

  “You will.” I was close to stuffing my cock in her mouth right now, but I had to focus.

  She still had a stalker. Chaos continued to erupt in the building. I had no idea where my men were. I needed to get Zola dressed and back in our suite.

  Then…perhaps…she could taste me.

  In my head, the nastiest of images appeared. I dreamed of busting cum all over that pretty face. In long white streams. Decorating her lips and forehead in dots and lines. I would pump the tip and squirt it all over her.

  Growling, I bit my lip.

  She widened her eyes as if she could see everything I was thinking.

  What else could I be thinking about right now?

  There would be no turning back after this. I didn’t give one fuck what York or anyone else thought of it. It was true that she was young. It was true that we’d grown up as brother and sister. But it was also true that I had tasted a little and wanted a whole lot more. And now I would never get enough. There was no turning back.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  I called out, “Yes?”

  “Baptiste wants to see you outside.”

  “Okay. I’m coming.” I kissed her, gathered myself together, and rose. “I’ll be right back.”

  21

  Shot to the Heart

  BROKENHEARTED

  I sat in the tree, watching them through the window.