Total D*ck (Bad Bitch #3)

by Christina Saunders

  “Shit.” He drew the word out as I set to work pumping up and down on his cock.

  I rubbed his head against the roof of my mouth, starting right behind my teeth and moving it all the way to my throat. The same motion over and over again as my palm slid against his slick shaft. He curled his fingers in my hair, pulling until little pinpricks of pain lit up along my scalp that sent a pleasurable sensation swooping and diving through me. I spread my legs a little more, my pussy desperate for the same treat my mouth was getting.

  He pulled my hair, forcing my chin to tilt up toward his face. When I met his eyes, I worked him faster, spurred on by the tension in his body, the need radiating from him.

  He panted and his brows drew together, but he looked only at me. Wet noises bounced off the wall and back to my ears, but I didn’t stop, just kept licking and sucking until I felt him stiffen even more in my mouth.

  “I’m going to come,” he bit out, and released my hair.

  I didn’t stop, just kept bobbing on him.

  “Oh my God, Scarlett.” He groaned and pulled me closer, fucking my mouth.

  His hips pistoned, and I kept crisscrossing his shaft with my tongue.

  “I’m coming. Fuck.”

  The first spurt shot against the roof of my mouth, and then another and another. I swallowed, savoring his salty taste and licking up and down on him even as some come escaped and rolled down his shaft, pooling on top of my fingers.

  His cock jerked one more time and he relaxed, every bit of tightness gone and a serene look on his handsome face.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever even . . . I don’t . . .” His words were almost slurred, and he gripped me under my arms and hauled me up onto the bed with him. “You are amazing.”

  I smiled and bit his shoulder. “Yes. And you’re a screamer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kennedy

  Night fell, and Faye puttered around my kitchen, cooking up a small batch of jambalaya for our dinner. Scarlett sat in the living room, talking and laughing with Shorty. It had taken an hour or so, but he’d finally opened up enough for her to chat him up and get him watching a reality TV show with her about house hunting. Whenever the commercials interrupted the show, he rose and peeked out the front windows¸ the back door, and did a check in the bedrooms.

  “Where’s your garlic?”

  “Garlic?” I rummaged through my spice rack.

  “Not the powder kind.” Faye walked past, her muumuu flowing out behind her as she went. “I need two real cloves.”

  “I don’t think I have that.”

  She stirred the pot of delicious-smelling shrimp and Creole spices. “You have it now. Clarence got it for me when he was out.” She pointed to a grocery bag with tomatoes, lemons, and garlic spilling out. “Mince me up two cloves.”

  “I have no idea how to mince. You know that, right?” I grabbed the garlic and stared at the flaky white outside for a few seconds. “The cloves are in here, right? I just have to get them out?”

  Faye turned and adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses. “Are you kidding with me?”

  “No, I don’t cook. You know I don’t cook.”

  She shook her head and turned back to the stove. “You’re a smart boy. Lawyer and all that. Figure it out.”

  I scratched my chin and reached up to grab a cutting board from the top of the fridge. Glancing to the living room, I saw Scarlett smirking at me.

  She turned back to Shorty and they continued their running commentary on what house they thought the couple on the show should pick as their starter home.

  I stuck my tongue out at her, because that was the adult thing to do and put the cutting board and the garlic on the island.

  “I’ve got this.” I said it more for Scarlett than Faye, but I doubted either of them believed me.

  “I think she should pick the midtown bungalow,” Scarlett said, focused on the show again.

  “Seems kind of pricey for the square footage.” Shorty shook his head.

  I started peeling the white crispy outer part from the garlic.

  A car horn honked as I made a mess of papery garlic layers. The conversation in the living room stopped abruptly and the TV clicked off.

  Shorty darted past and pulled the curtain away from the back window before letting it go and backing away. “All of you, in the hallway.” He pulled his gun from his hip holster and flicked off the safety.

  I shuffled Faye away from the stove as Scarlett came around the couch.

  “What is it?” Faye asked.

  Shorty put his finger to his lips and walked around flipping off all the lights.

  Scarlett took Faye’s elbow and stood next to her in the hall as I snagged my wallet, keys, and .45 off the dresser in my room. Shorty and I closed all the bedroom doors.

  The house was dark and no more noise came from outside other than the scratchy sound of the palm tree leaves sliding against each other in the breeze.

  Shorty took position at the end of the hallway toward the living room. I glanced down to Scarlett and Faye. Scarlett kept her gaze toward the front of the house. Faye trembled between us, and even in the gloom, I could tell her eyes were wide.

  Scarlett ran her hand along Faye’s upper arm and whispered, “We’re fine. Don’t worry.”

  A shot fired outside, like a small pop. Someone was using a silencer on their pistol, but I didn’t know if it was Clarence or an attacker. I flicked off the safety on my .45 and pulled back on the action, loading a round into the chamber. I wasn’t much of a shot, but up close I didn’t need to be.

  Another series of three shots, these closer and louder. Faye jumped, and Scarlett wrapped her arm around her.

  We waited a full minute, but didn’t hear anything else.

  “I’m going to check it out. Stay here. Watch the doors.” Shorty pointed to the bedrooms.

  “All right.”

  He crouched down and crept into the living room. I kept him in my peripheral vision and raised the gun. If anyone came through one of those doors, it would be the last move they made.

  A few more tense moments passed, sweat beading on my forehead even though it was cool in the house. Shorty moved again, this time to the back door, where he peeked out.

  He motioned for us to come with him. Scarlett led and Faye followed, her muumuu making swishing sounds as the fabric rustled against itself.

  “Go on, I’m coming.” Scarlett darted to the living room and snatched her bag off the table at the front door. I followed her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the kitchen.

  Glass shattered somewhere in one of the bedrooms and then gunshots rang out closer to the house. “Come on!” Shorty yelled, and flung the back door open.

  Faye dashed to him as a door in the hallway slammed. I pulled Scarlett toward the back door, but someone was firing wildly from the bedrooms. I squeezed off a round down the hallway, the .45 giving more than just the small pop of the silenced gun.

  Dust flew from the living room wall, the assailant’s gunshots separating us from Shorty and Faye. I pushed Scarlett behind me, pinning her between the wall and my back.

  “Go!” Shorty pointed to the front door and pushed Faye out the back while firing shots toward the bedrooms. “Now!”

  I ripped open the front door, holding my gun up. No one was there, so I grabbed Scarlett, and we ran to my car. “Get in!”

  She dashed around to the passenger side as I pulled my keys from my pocket. I fumbled them and they hit the ground. When I knelt to pick them up, the driver’s-side window exploded above me, showering me with glass.

  Scarlett screamed and my blood went cold. I dropped to my back and whipped my right hand out, shooting several rounds at the front door. Whoever was there darted back inside.

  “Scarlett, you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I found they key fob and unlocked the car. “Get in.”

  Rolling to my side, I kept my eyes on the front door as I got to my knees and then my feet. I squeezed o
ff another round for good measure and jumped into the driver’s seat. The engine started right up, and I squealed tires out of the driveway.

  “Get your head down!” I yelled right as a barrage of thumps hit the rear of the car and the back window shattered. Scarlett put her head to her knees and I hunched against the steering wheel as we came to a screeching halt in the road.

  I put the car in drive and floored it, popping the curb for a moment before getting back on pavement and whipping through the neighborhood.

  Scarlett sat up and stared behind us as we sped away.

  I glanced at my rearview mirror, but the road was clear.

  “Anyone there?”

  “I don’t see another car following us. No.”

  I turned down a side street, cut through an alley, then moved onto a wider road with plenty of traffic. We stopped at a light, in the middle of a pack of cars.

  “We’re safe. Are you hurt?” I grabbed her hand. It was cold and shaking. I brought it to my lips and kissed the back before looking her over from head to toe. Her jeans and short-sleeve sweater were stainless, no blood. I let out a sigh of relief and kissed her hand again. “We’re okay.”

  She met my eyes. “Faye and Shorty?”

  “I don’t know. But Shorty isn’t a fool, and I have faith.” The thought of anything happening to Faye made my stomach churn, the adrenaline turning to bile.

  The light turned green and traffic began moving. We stayed with the pack, making our way to St. Charles Street as a cool wind blew in through the busted-out windows.

  “What are we going to do?” The tremor in her voice was like an ice pick in my heart. I never wanted to hear her afraid.

  “Call Carey.” I squeezed her hand and let it go to make a turn.

  “But that’s not safe.”

  “I know, but we don’t have any choice. Not anymore. I’m not going to bring this sort of danger to anyone’s doorstep who isn’t already involved.” Going to my brothers Lincoln or Wash had been my first thought, but I wouldn’t risk them. Same thing for any of Scarlett’s friends or family.

  “All right.” She dug through her bag and pulled out her cell phone as I pulled onto St. Charles. We melded into the steady flow of traffic that fed the heart of the city. The streets were clogged, Mardis Gras having taken over.

  She dialed. After a few moments, she frowned and dialed again.

  “What?”

  “Went to voice mail.” She tossed her phone into her lap. “Voice mail both times.”

  “Fuck.” I slammed my palm on the steering wheel, but when Scarlett jumped, I reached over and took her hand again. “Sorry. Sorry about that.”

  She shrugged. “I think you’re allowed a little venting after surviving a gunfight like we did.”

  “We really did, didn’t we? When we get out of this, and we will”—I glanced to her —“I’m going to tell my brothers, and they are going to be so jealous.”

  She shook her head, a small smile breaking across her lips. It was exactly what I wanted to see.

  “We have to get out of it first.” Her phone beeped. She swiped the screen and wrinkled her brow.

  I pulled into a gas station and parked along the darkened side of the lot. “What?”

  She showed me the screen. It listed an address in Metairie, a town a few miles up the river.

  “He wouldn’t just send his address, right?” She wrinkled her nose. “That would be stupid, and Carey is definitely not a dummy.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.” I put the car in gear and eased out of the gas station.

  “What if it’s not from him? What if it’s a trap?” Scarlett’s voice rose as I turned left and headed toward Metairie.

  “We’ll deal with it.”

  “Maybe we should go back to Guy’s house.” Scarlett chewed her thumbnail.

  “I don’t think that’s any safer than my place turned out to be. If Clinton and his crew—”

  “Oh God.” She grabbed my arm and the color drained from her face. “Do you they they’re . . . Do you think they were killed?”

  “Clinton? He’s the sort of guy who dies of old age despite doing dangerous shit all his life. I’m sure he got away. Don’t worry.” I wasn’t half so sure as I sounded, but I didn’t want her worrying needlessly. I didn’t know if she was in shock or even if I was. Somehow, I stayed calm, calmer than my usual.

  The wind whistled through the busted windows, so I turned the heat on high to counteract the chill. We reached the address Carey had provided in fifteen minutes. A dark, burned-out warehouse graced the corner, and the other three corners were taken up by overgrown and decrepit buildings.

  “He’s not here.” Scarlett craned her head back to check behind us. She’d done it a lot during our drive—fear in every head turn.

  I had to get her somewhere safe, and I desperately wanted her in my arms. But not until I was certain she was out of harm’s way.

  Her phone pinged again. She swiped the screen and showed me the words.

  Infinite lives

  Chapter Fifteen

  Scarlett

  Kennedy nodded. “Clever fucker.”

  “What did I miss?” I stared at the screen.

  “Infinite lives from the game BloodSand, remember?”

  “The game you were playing at the office?” My memory fired, cutting through the haze of fear and anxiety that had covered me since his house.

  “Exactly. He’s giving us directions to him. This is the starting point.” Kennedy scanned the area.

  Wait. How does a game play into directions to his place?” I rubbed my temples, trying to get my brain back in action.

  “The code for the game is based on a four-way directional pad—left, right, up, down. We can adapt it for the streets and go from there. But I don’t know which direction we should start out facing is the only problem.”

  “North is probably the most logical. Though, if we get it wrong, I supposed we could just start over again until we got it right.”

  “North. Good thinking.” Kennedy pulled into the parking area next to the burned-out warehouse and repositioned the car. “I’m going to assume each button press equates to a block.”

  “I think that’s a good assumption.” A car passed through the intersection and my heart sped up. Was it thugs from the house? Were they going to try to kill us again?

  “Hey, hey, Scarlett.” Kennedy put his palm on my cheek. “Everything’s okay. We’re okay.”

  I leaned into his touch and tried to shake myself free of the fear. “Yes.”

  “We’ll be at Carey’s in a minute. Then we can decompress.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. But you will be.” He leaned back into the driver’s seat. “Okay, let’s get infinite.” Closing his eyes, he held his hands up as if he had a game controller in them. “Up, right, right, down, right, up, left, up, left, up.”

  “So, up is north, down is south, and the others are self-explanatory.” I took a deep breath and couldn’t stop myself from looking over my shoulder one more time. Nothing there.

  “Here we go.” He accelerated through the intersection, went one block, and then turned right. He continued following the instructions, repeating each direction as he came to a cross street. After what felt like five minutes of driving in circles, we stopped in front of another set of warehouses.

  “Which one?” I studied each of the buildings. Two were lit; the other two dark.

  “I don’t know. I’m guessing we followed the instructions correctly.”

  “Does this mean we have infinite lives now?” Was that my voice? So weak and afraid?

  “You’re safe, Scarlett. I promise.” Kennedy rested his hand on my thigh, the gentle pressure grounding me a bit.

  We sat at the corner for a few moments, trying to guess which building was correct, when a metal garage door opened across the street. It was automatic, rolling up at a steady pace to a mechanical hum. As it ticked upward, the square of light pooling into the st
reet grew larger.

  My fingers went numb. “What if it’s a trap?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. No one knew about the video game.”

  “What if those men are waiting in there? What if they already got Carey?” My fingers wrestled with each other, unsure of what to do.

  “Scarlett, we have to take this chance, okay? I think it’s the right move. I think once we get inside, you’ll see that. Do you trust me?” His voice was calm, even, more authoritative than I’d ever heard it before.

  I met his eyes. Something in them gave me more courage. “Yes.”

  “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Okay.”

  He squeezed my leg and left his hand there. Then he eased forward toward the open door.

  I tensed, but he didn’t stop until we were inside and the door began its mechanical hum, rolling back down into place. We were in a garage, a car parked ahead of us and two motorcycles lined up next to it. The room took up only a small part of the warehouse, which seemed to be situated on at least half the block. A freight elevator with a naked bulb inside it was to the right, and a set of double doors were to the left.

  “That’s Carey’s car.” Kennedy pulled his gun from beside his seat and clicked the safety off. “Let me check it out first.”

  “Don’t leave me here.” I reached for the door handle.

  “Wait. It’ll be safer. Here.” He handed me the keys. “If you hear or see anything suspicious, just back right the fuck out through the door.”

  “No.” My fear turned into the indignation I’d used like armor my entire life. “You’re not leaving me here. I’m going with you. We do this together.”

  One side of his lip quirked up. “Will you at least stay behind me, scrapper? I’m the one with the gun after all.”

  “I will.” I opened the door and stepped out, the air faintly tinged with oil, but warmer than outside.

  I closed my door softly and Kennedy did the same. As I was walking around the front of the car to him, the freight elevator clicked on and the car descended. Kennedy held out his free hand. I took it, and he pulled the gate back and we got on. Gun at the ready, he stood ahead of me.