by Weber, Carl
He slid his hardened dick inside and mounted me, muscles tensing with every movement deeper, closer. I threw my head back and pressed my body against him, clawing at his back with my fingernails and biting on his ear.
Our breathing became labored, desperate, matching then exceeding the volume of the TV. Niles rocked me good, having me almost out of breath as he pumped ferociously.
“That’s it. Don’t stop. Oooh, don’t stop,” I begged repeatedly as I pointed my feet to the sky, almost in tears from the pleasure he was forcing upon me inch by inch.
I’d been righteously fucked before, but the emotions I was experiencing made this different, took this to another level. He had me so excited that I slapped his ass, startling him.
“Ooooo,” I moaned as I came yet again, biting on my finger. Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel him looking at me. Knew I had to be a damn sexy sight.
“Hhrrr,” Niles grunted as his body tensed before the moment overtaking him.
It was the only bit of warning I had before he released his seed, erupting in a massive wave that made both our bodies shudder and slam together.
“Oh wow,” I gasped as my chest heaved.
“Yeah,” Niles succinctly responded as he waited for control to return to his body.
Both our phones rang just as he rolled off.
Both our worlds intruding on the brief bubble we’d shared.
Somehow he summoned the strength to sit up in the bed. As he looked toward the other bed, his phone continued to vibrate.
“You need to take that?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s Nadja. Has to be,” he admitted, kinda dampening my mood and the high I was coming down off. Yet, my iPhone kept going off too. I was sure I dreaded my call more than his.
“My school,” I offered when he looked at me.
“Go on,” he suggested. “Sponsors checking on their product no doubt. You’re very valuable to whoever spent the money on your training. Might not be so easy for you to ‘drop out’ and leave with me.”
“And where would we go anyway? Where would we live?”
“I dunno. We’d be mobile, but maybe go home. Set up shop in New York or Jersey? Like a homecoming for both of us. Maybe rent ourselves out to some of them gangsters down there.”
“Nah,” I said. “Painful memories of New York.”
“Speaking of that, where’d you grow up in Queens? Maybe we know some of the same people.”
“Jamaica,” I said, still basking and being stupid before I corrected myself with a lie. “But I wasn’t there long. Bounced around in homes all over the five boroughs.”
“Oh,” was all he said. “Well . . . we’ll talk about it later. I gotta take this, yo,” he reminded me with a final kiss as he found the strength in his legs to walk.
Yeah. That bitch Nadja was waiting for him to pick up.
But my call wasn’t from the school.
Niles
56
“Okay. I can talk now,” I said as I closed the apartment door behind me, having hastily thrown on some jeans and a T-shirt.
“So when you told me the job was handled did you leave anything else out?” Nadja asked.
“No,” I replied, trying to ignore Paris’s complications in the matter. “You got my money, yo?” I tried to change the subject and use a little humor. Soften her up a bit.
“Hmm. Funny,” she chimed.
“What?” I asked, puzzled.
“You’ve been around the Yank too long. She has you talking like a common street thug.”
“You weren’t complaining about this street thug back in the day.”
“So,” she huffed. “I lowered my standards . . . briefly.”
“Rubbish,” I said, briefly using the English accent she preferred . . . even in bed. “Now . . . I’ll say it again. You got my money, yo?”
“Come downstairs; unless you want me to come up?” Nadja instructed after a pregnant pause. She didn’t seem amused by my banter.
As I exited the elevator, a car horn from outside alerted me. Couldn’t see inside the silver Audi R8 with its high-revving engine steady purring, but I began considering my options in case this was a double cross. Of all the bullets with my name on them, one would eventually find its mark.
But not today, if I could help it.
I reached into my waistband, resting my hand on the pistol grip of the Smith & Wesson while still holding my phone with the other hand. Last thing I wanted was for them to enter my home and hurt Paris. The window lowered and I stepped outside in my bare feet.
“Get in. And put that gun away,” Nadja said from the driver’s seat.
“I’m not exactly dressed to be going out,” I joked as I rested my bare feet on the carpeted floor mat.
“Relax. We’re not going to a wedding reception,” she joked dryly as she drove the car at over 160 kilometers per hour. Nadja wore her trademark black, but with a gray hoodie on this time for extra warmth.
“How long have you been in Paris?” I asked her.
“Not long,” she said, slowing to hook a hard left turn before rocketing back up over one hundred on the next straightaway. “I don’t trust that Yank, Paris. Figured I’d hang back. Just in case. She is here with you, huh?”
“Stop it. You already know the answer,” I replied. “Jealousy doesn’t become you.”
“Bloody hanger-on,” she crowed. “What do you really know about her, Niles? That girl is going to be the death of you yet.”
“You might be right,” I said as flashes of the violence we’d participated in ran through my mind. “But she’s been betta for me than worse.”
“Better? Wasn’t there an extra body on this job? One no one got paid for? Then there’s the matter of that massacre and the extra bodies back in Spain. Y’know . . . this reflects poorly on me, Niles. People aren’t going to want to do business with us if it’s sloppy.”
“Are you trying to give me an ultimatum, Nadja? You find the jobs. I’m the one who takes all the risks.”
“You really think so? You don’t know what I’ve risked for you, you ungrateful bastard,” she hissed.
Before I could respond, she slammed on her brakes in the middle of the street.
Unlike Nadja, I wasn’t seatbelted and flew against the windshield like she intended, banging my forehead. When I tumbled back into my seat, Nadja went to slap me. I barely caught her hand before it struck my face.
“Nadja, what the fuck?” I groaned as I shook off the cobwebs.
As I cleared her hand away, she was already up in my face, pressing her advantage.
But rather than stabbing or shooting, Nadja used another approach.
She kissed me.
Time melted away with the renewed contact of our lips. It was too easy for me to allow it to continue as Nadja was now climbing over into my lap. She yanked my T-shirt up and ran her hands methodically over my chest, obviously smelling Paris’s essence from our lovemaking. Suddenly all my thoughts led straight back to Paris.
I pulled away.
“Niles, Niles, Niles,” she sang in that lovely, intoxicating accent of hers.
No. This was wrong.
“Nadja . . .” I uttered as I pushed her size-two self away. Somebody in a truck going past yelled something about calling the cops. Just that quick, Nadja was back in the driver’s seat and had us underway again. The law or even the threat of it was something she refused to deal with.
“What was that about? You gonna say something?” I asked as I wiped her lipstick from my face.
“I have a room at Hôtel de Crillon or you can keep your crude Yank bitch,” she grumbled, making sure I understood what she was offering.
“No,” I said as I placed a calm hand on her leg. “You said we’d never again—”
“Fuck you, Niles. Fuck you for throwing that in my face,” she spat, obviously wrestling with emotions that shifted gears as fast as this car.
“Nadja. Listen. It’s not that I’m not tempted but I can’t,�
�� I moaned, guilty over the momentary hard-on she’d granted me. “I’m not going back to your hotel with you.”
As she continued to speed along, she sent a short text on her phone and waited until a response was received. “There. Your money’s in your account,” she stated as she screeched to a halt outside a small park on the edge of 12th. This time I was prepared and didn’t smack the windshield. “The people who hired you don’t like the collateral damage, but I assured them you had nothing to do with the stabbing in the bathroom. Lucky for you they believe me.”
“Thank you,” I said, not making eye contact.
“Now get out.”
“Huh? That’s bullshit, Nadja! Take me home!” I argued.
“No. You’ve humiliated me enough by choosing that girl. Don’t think you will humiliate me further by bringing you back . . . to her. Now . . . get out.”
I slapped my hand on the dash out of frustration, but complied with no further protests, getting out minus wallet and shoes.
“What now?” I asked as she lowered the window once more.
“I’m working on a big job in the States. Sit tight and wait for details. After that, we’re through.”
Then she sped away.
Nadja
57
“Hey, how’s it going?” I spoke over the car’s Bluetooth as I sped back toward the de Crillon.
“No complaints. Course some good dick would make everything better. Wanna meet in Cabo in a couple? Help me get some anonymous vacay dick?” Gabby laughed.
“Can’t. Working,” I lied.
“Oh, puleeze, your ass just don’t want to be too far away unless your favorite cock comes a calling.” Her words hit me like a punch in the stomach.
“Has this ever happened to you? Where no matter how many other men want you it doesn’t matter ’cause he’s the only one that matters?”
“Damn, you’re sounding like Simone. But yeah, it did. Course he was married and not tryin’a leave his family; least, not for me.”
“So how the hell did you deal?”
“Me? I fucked my way over him.”
“Yeah, but I can’t bring myself to do that.”
“Girl, you’re trying compete with the seven orgasms he gave you. I suggest you play the numbers game and fuck seven men and hopefully you’ll get seven orgasms and then you’ll be over him. At the very least you’ll meet one you like.”
“But no one is like him.” I couldn’t get her to understand what I was talking about.
“Jamaica. Let’s meet in Jamaica and you will find some big Black Jamaican cock and by the time you get back you won’t even remember why you liked him in the first place. Fucking those Spaniards and white boys ain’t gonna compete with the Black D.”
“Must you be so crass? It’s not just his dick.”
“But you have nothing to compare it to and it’s not like he’s been treating you so damn great. Let’s hit the beach and I swear I will get you some big Mandingo dick to make you forget your name. Plus, you’ll have a beautiful tan.”
“I’m not going to bother asking if you’ve slept with a black man.”
“Black, Dominican, Jamaican, Haitian, Moroccan, Ethiopian, half caste. I’m an equal opportunity fucker.” Gabriel laughed. “Come on, we’ll invite Simone.”
“Let me think about it.”
By the time I got off the phone I was feeling a whole lot better about things. Course it also made me rethink my plan. One thing I felt certain of was making this Paris bitch pay. Niles pushing me away both emotionally and now physically had been the final fucking thing. As badly as it hurt I still wanted him, to have it be only the two of us again. Since childhood patience had always been my strong point, I knew how to wait and bide my time in order to get what I wanted. It’s how I got to go abroad for boarding school and also the reason my father finally caved and hired me. But this new problem had put a gigantic crook in my plans and I intended to eliminate it once and for all.
My mother had once explained to me that she and my father had an arranged marriage and in the beginning he was resentful that she had been chosen for him. See, he had wanted to marry another woman, but her family wasn’t considered a part of the upper class and therefore it had been forbidden. Eventually he admitted to my mother that he was pleased to be married to her. That he hadn’t known what was best for him. That’s exactly what I knew about Niles. One day he would thank me for saving him from this classless whore and helping him to take his rightful place, next to me. I knew my parents would freak out but once I convinced Niles to elope with me they would have no choice but to accept him as my husband. And being a part of our family would insure that Niles had the kind of social currency you could only get through blood or marriage. And I knew he would make a great father when the time came. He was the only man I could see myself being with and obeying in the way my culture insisted women submit to their men. Yes, I would clean his feet and his cock with my tongue for life. Now, first things first.
Paris
58
“What, Orlando?” I yelled into the phone as soon as Niles stepped outside to take his call. “This isn’t a good time. I already said I’m about to go back.”
“Hello, Paris,” the deep voice on the other end said.
“Daddy!” I gasped, almost dropping the phone. I immediately glanced at the front door. Fearing I’d been too loud, I took a few catlike steps toward it and paused. Waited for some kind of reaction, but Niles didn’t storm back in.
“Paris, are you there? I know you can hear me. Don’t play games with me, girl,” LC grumbled.
“I’m here, Daddy. And I’m not playing games,” I replied as I swiftly moved to the bathroom and turned on the shower to cover my voice. “How are you?”
“Since I had to make this call, that means I’m not happy. We told you to stay in Valencia until further notice. However, Orlando reluctantly told me you’re not even in Spain, but London. Explain yourself. Now,” he demanded with a growl that made me appreciate I wasn’t standing before him. LC had a glare that could make the hardest man shit in his pants.
“Daddy, like I already told Orlando, I’m just out here shopping,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. I was happy he didn’t know I was in Paris at the moment.
“And like Orlando, I don’t believe you. Paris, you know I don’t suffer liars or fools. Especially those in my close circle like the rest of your siblings. So you need to decide whether you really want to be a part of this family business. Because I’ve invested too much in you and won’t tolerate disobedience such as this any longer. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” I acknowledged with a shudder. Daddy sometimes used this tone with his employees. And they weren’t given second chances.
“Good. Because the next time you hear from me, it might be very unfortunate for you. Listen to your brother and get your ass back to Spain. Now!”
“Y . . . yes, Daddy,” I agreed, mainly just to make him go away.
“Paris?” Orlando said, taking his phone back from our daddy, who probably was rushing off to handle whatever pressing business was on his plate. Wish I knew how bad things truly were back home, but they were keeping me on the outside.
“What!” I replied, irritated as fuck. But if I hung up on Orlando, Daddy might call me back. And I ain’t stupid.
“Don’t get pissed at me,” Orlando argued. “I tried to keep LC outta this. But somebody had to be a hardhead and wouldn’t listen, so—”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” I chirped, cutting him off. “I’ll be a good little girl. Happy?”
“Totally,” he replied, hanging up.
I put the toilet cover down, took a seat, and reached over to turn off the shower before the steam messed up my hair. Topless with just my thong on, I placed my face in my hands and let out a deep sigh.
If Niles were to walk in right now, what would I say to him? And would he believe it?
Rather than hurling my phone against the wall like
I wanted to, I instead used it to pull up a travel app. I looked for flights out of Paris to Spain where I would lay low like the good little girl I promised to be. I guessed more shopping could help me forget. Or a couple of obedient boy toys with no baggage, who weren’t killers.
Nah.
Niles wasn’t somebody I could just delete from my system with mindless distractions such as those, especially after our confessions tonight. I loved him.
“Damn you, Niles,” I muttered as tears flowed down my face, which I tried to ignore. “And damn me.”
I left the bathroom while wiping my eyes. It was going to be brutal telling Niles of my decision, but he still hadn’t come back inside. I took it as a blessing as I checked my face in the mirror and removed the black streaks around my eyes.
But when I peeked out the curtains, Niles was nowhere to be seen. No need to get nervous, Paris. He’s a grown-ass man, I thought. I sat down on the bed and forked a little bit of the cold rice and sausage mix into my mouth. Unusually good stuff, but I wasn’t about to become one of them chicks who ate when stressed. Dumping it in the trash, I picked up the remote and thumbed through the channels. Niles had left his karambit blades on the bed, so he really must’ve just stepped out for his call.
Unless . . .
That word kept coming into my head as I stopped channel surfing at an episode of The Sopranos. Funny-ass Jersey Italians, I tell ya. If we weren’t so subtle with our shit, Daddy would’ve fucked someone like Tony Soprano’s neurotic ass up and dared him to go to war.
Unless . . .
Unless something happened to Niles.
I snatched up his blades again, which I was becoming too comfortable handling, and decided to go outside for a look-see. If I interrupted his business call, I would just apologize and keep it moving. But I needed to talk to him and it couldn’t wait.
After throwing on some warm-ups, I cautiously opened the door and carefully poked my head into the night air. I let my nose smell and ears hear first if anything was wrong before my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit parking lot. “Survival is about your senses,” that crazy Israeli drilled into our heads at the school I would be returning to shortly. And God bless him, everything he’d drilled into my thick skull was responsible for me still being alive.
