Dirty Little Quickies

by Shanora Williams

  I wanted to cry when he said that. Who knew Kobe could be just as sweet as he was intense?

  Dad switched glances between the both of us, head shaking, eyes wide. “Nelly, this is wrong. How can you be sure about this?”

  I hooked my arm through Kobe’s. “I don’t know, but it feels right.”

  “If he hurts you in any kind of way—”

  “I would never hurt her, Mr. Gooding,” Kobe interrupted. “She’s mine to protect. To keep safe. That includes her heart too.”

  Fucking swoon.

  I bit my bottom lip, blushing hard, my eyes cast downward. Dad blew a hard breath, head shaking. “I seriously cannot believe this.” He glared at Kobe. “I will need to talk to you more, Mr. Ward. I want you to meet me at my office tomorrow morning. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Kobe nodded and Dad’s gaze swung to mine. I walked his way, throwing my arms around his neck. I hugged him tight, reassuring him.

  “It’s fine, Dad. Please, just let it go. I really like him.”

  He let out a sharp breath. “I only want to keep my little girl safe. You know this,” he whispered over my shoulder.

  “I know,” I murmured. “Trust me, I know, Dad. But you have nothing to worry about with Kobe. He keeps me safe and I trust him, way more than any of the other guards you’ve ever hired.”

  Dad pulled back, giving Kobe one final look up and down before huffing. Before he walked out the door, he said, “I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Ward.”

  And with those words he left.

  With a heavy sigh of relief, I turned and looked at Kobe. Lacing my arms around the back of his neck and standing on the tips of my toes, I said on his lips, “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

  “Of course, you didn’t. I’m not big on expressing myself.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did.” I kissed him once. Twice. “It lets me know this thing isn’t just one-sided.”

  “It never has been,” he crooned.

  “He’s going to curse you out tomorrow, so be prepared for that,” I laughed, and then yelped when he picked me up in his strong arms, cupping my ass. He twisted around, placing my back on the bed, kissing me deeply. Passionately.

  “He can curse me out every day if he wants to. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to kiss these lips every day.” I giggled as he stole several kisses from me, and then he dropped down, his head between my legs. “And taste this sweet pussy of yours every single morning.” After saying that, he devoured me, proving just how much he cared about me.

  Gah, this man was perfection.

  EPILOGUE

  Kobe

  Ten Months Later

  I never thought I’d see the day where I fell in love again.

  But here I was with her, her ass on the countertop, staring at the reflection in the mirror of the private bathroom. I was thrusting hard and deep in Chanel’s pussy, stealing taste after taste from her lips like she was the finest, sweetest wine.

  Even after so many months, she still felt the same, but tasted so much sweeter every time. Her moans were like music to my ears, in perfect harmony with my heavy groans.

  She held me tight, her manicured nails digging into my back, the backs of her heels digging into my hips, guiding me deeper.

  “You are fucking beautiful, baby,” I breathed in her ear, and she sighed, clutching, breathing my name. She loved when I talked to her while fucking her. It always got her riled up.

  We were in the bathroom backstage with the door locked, away from the crowd that was awaiting her arrival. She was the star of the runway tonight, her named headlined on the posters.

  After the images of us circulated and everyone buzzed about it, things seemed to get better. The people thought Chanel dating and making out with her bodyguard made her more humble, like she’d found true happiness after a terrible break up.

  We were the new “it” couple, but mainly because the world couldn’t figure us out. They couldn’t understand how a girl like her, fell for an average guy like me. They wanted interviews, but I would never go. She would, but didn’t give them many details, other than telling them how she felt when she first met me. She told them she loved me. Trusted me. Needed me. It was awe-worthy, and to the world she was an icon.

  After talking to her father that next morning, he made me promise him one thing: to never hurt her. To not walk away unless she told me to. I had no reason to walk away, but if there ever came a point where she didn’t want me, sure enough I’d leave if she told me to.

  I didn’t see that happening in our future though. She kissed me like she couldn’t get enough, held me like she never wanted to let go. I loved this girl. I really did. She’d gone from a stranger I hardly knew anything about, to this—a woman I loved. A woman I wanted to cherish. My second chance to do the right thing.

  Though my past still weighed heavy, she understood, and she didn’t pressure me too much for details. I told her things here and there, but it was still hard to talk about. Even so, she accepted that.

  She accepted me.

  We both finished at the same time, climaxing, exploding in the private bathroom.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she panted as I collapsed. “You’re the best,” she breathed.

  I picked my head up, planting my lips on top of hers and kissing her. “Still nervous?” I asked.

  She nodded, looking me deep in the eyes.

  Cupping the side of her face, I told her, “You’re going to go out there and dominate that runway—own the place. You’re Chanel Gooding. They’re waiting to see you murder the scene.” She broke out in laughter and I grinned. “Too cheesy?”

  “Kinda sorta,” she continued giggling. “But it always helps.”

  I pulled out and stepped back, helping her off the counter. “Come on. Let’s get you back in there.”

  I unlocked the door and we walked out the bathroom, toward the busy hallway. I escorted her, glancing down at her once, spotting the grin on her lips. Yep, she was ready. Somehow a quick fuck before her big photo shoots and shows always did the trick.

  I helped her into her chair and as soon as she sat, the hairstylist and makeup artist gathered around her.

  “What took you so long?” Nicole asked her, meeting up to her chair too.

  “Got caught up. Sorry,” she said with a smirk.

  “I’m going out to sit. Have fun,” I told her.

  “Yes, go sit,” Nicole insisted. “You’re distracting her. Go. Go.”

  I chuckled as Chanel blew me a kiss, and then left her to it.

  I headed for the chairs alongside the runway, spotting the reserved section Mr. Gooding was already sitting in. I shook his hand before sitting.

  “She nervous?” he asked without looking at me.

  I pressed my lips with a light shrug. “She was, but we talked. I think she’s good now.”

  “Hmm.” Mr. Gooding nodded. “Good.”

  Thirty minutes passed and the lights dimmed, but bright spotlights illuminated the runway. A voice broke through the speakers, and then music started, and out she came.

  As soon as she walked out in those tall heels, wearing white lingerie and angel wings strapped to her back, I realized just why I adored this woman.

  She was a naughty little angel in my eyes, innocent when she wanted to be, but still so dirty. She walked with a unique fierceness only she could possess, and don’t even get me started on her body. I knew other men in the crowd were looking at her too, but she wasn’t theirs. She was mine, and most of them probably envied me for it.

  I heard someone cheer and whistle louder than everyone else and when I looked over the stage, I spotted her ex, Riley Rivers. When she reached the end of the runway, she looked at him and lifted a friendly middle finger with puckered lips, right before turning and posing for the camera at the end of the walkway.

  And I couldn’t believe it, but the crowd roared, cheering loudly for my sweet girl, all while he sat there like a fucking idiot, sulking over what he lost, wishing
she was still his.

  Too fucking bad.

  She turned quickly and glanced over her shoulder at me, blowing a kiss as the cameras flashed and clicked. I sent a wink with her, and she cat walked her way off that stage like she owned not just the runway, but the whole goddamn city.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Gooding said, pulling me out of my mesmerized trance. “I’ve never seen her more confident than she just was on that runway. You’re good with her. I’ll give you that.”

  I shifted in my seat with a smirk.

  I was glad he knew it.

  Glad he was accepting it.

  He still couldn’t stand it—the idea of me being with her and also being her bodyguard, but he could get the hell over it because I wasn’t going anywhere. And that wasn’t according to me, though I would have loved to rub it in his face. It was according to Chanel.

  She was all mine, my sexy-as-hell superstar, and not a damn thing was going to get between us. I was so damn in love with her, had fallen so quickly and didn’t see it coming.

  But love was never really clear.

  It came at unexpected times, usually when a person needed it most. And I realized how badly I needed Chanel.

  I was lifeless until I met her.

  She changed that.

  Accepted me.

  Loved me.

  And I loved her.

  More than she could possibly imagine.

  THE END

  WANTING MR. CANE PREVIEW

  If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading the Nora Heat boxed set! Those are some steamy books, right? Hope you enjoyed them!

  Before I let you go, I’d like to introduce you to a new set of characters, Cane & Kandy who are in a project coming on May 3rd called Wanting Mr. Cane. This is another younger woman/older man love story where Cane (our Hero) falls for his best friend’s daughter. It’s a juicy little tale that I can’t wait to share soon!

  In the meantime, you can read the first eight chapters on the next few pages. Enjoy!

  ONE

  KANDY

  I remember the very first day I met Mr. Cane.

  I was only nine years old, but I remember exactly what I saw and how I felt when I first laid eyes on him.

  A shiny black car pulled into the driveway of our two-story home, parking less than a yard away from where I was. I sat on the tire swing of the big tree on the front lawn, wearing dingy-white chucks with rainbow laces, jean overalls, and knee-high pink socks. I was covered in grass stains after playing hide-and-seek with Frankie earlier that day.

  I squinted my eyes and watched as the car door swung open and the sole of a shiny, black dress-shoe planted itself on the pavement. My eyes shifted over to the navy blue slacks he wore, then up to the white button-down shirt that was rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong, inked forearms. And then I found his face. He stood tall, shoulders broad, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. His skin was a rich bronze, like it’d been kissed by the sun his entire life. He rolled his neck, and I swear I could hear the crack of it from where I sat.

  I don't think he saw me right away, but I saw him. He was too busy looking at the house, probably impressed by it. I really liked that house too.

  The man shut the door behind him and when he took a step to the side, I noticed a tattoo on the curve of his neck. RISE. I could see the word from the short distance away, in bold script.

  His jawline was sharp, the stubble scarce on his face. There was dark ink on his hands and all over his arms, some of it dark, some colorful. His dark-brown hair was tapered on the sides and in the back, the lengthier part at the crown gelled back. If I were to guess, I would have assumed he was no older than thirty. Maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven?

  He inhaled and then exhaled, taking off his sunglasses, and when he finally turned his head to the left, his eyes landed right on mine.

  His face didn't change.

  He almost seemed unbothered by my presence . . . or like he already knew who I was.

  Too bad I didn't know him at all.

  He walked toward the hood of his Chrysler, still eyeing me, head in a slight tilt, a small smile on the corners of his lips. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a carton of cigarettes, plucked one out, and then stuck it between his lips. A lighter was in his other hand and he lit the cigarette in a flash, taking a hard pull from it.

  I frowned at him. "You know you probably shouldn't smoke," I said, pushing back, lifting my feet, and easing into a light swing. "It's bad for you."

  He continued puffing, sitting on the hood of his car. "You should mind your own business."

  I stopped swinging, planting my feet on the ground. "Are you supposed to be here? I don’t know who you are…"

  "I’m a friend."

  "I’ve never met you. How can you already be my friend?" I challenged.

  He shrugged. “Don’t know, but what I do know is that you ask a lot of questions.”

  Okay. This guy was being a real jerk. I stood up, narrowing my eyes at him. "My dad is a cop. I’ll tell him you’re out here.”

  At that, he smirked and stood tall, looking at me beneath thick eyebrows. He waved his free hand at me. "Go on, then. Tell him."

  My heart was pounding now. I'd never had an adult talk to me this way. I panicked, running for the house before he could do something crazy, like stop me, or trap me, kidnap me, or something. I didn't know who he was. For all I knew he could have been here to kill my entire family.

  "Dad!" I screamed, bursting through the front door. The soles of my shoes pounded into the wooden floorboards as I ran down the hallway. "Dad!"

  Dad popped his head around the corner of the kitchen, brows heavily stitched. "What, Kandy? What is it?" he asked, concern etching his face.

  I clung to him, throwing my arms around his waist.

  "Kandy, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Mom asked from the fridge, rushing my way a soon as she shut it.

  "There's a—a man standing out there. He's smoking a—and he told me to mind my own business!"

  "What?" Dad immediately pulled away, handing me over to Mom, who cupped my face and then reeled me against her.

  The doorbell rang and Dad looked at her, worry creasing at his forehead. "Stay in here," he told me, and I was really scared then.

  My instincts were right. He was a bad guy. Good thing I ran.

  Mom pulled me even closer as Dad stepped around the corner to get to the living room. I heard things rustling around and then he came back out with his police gun, tucking it in the waistband on the back of his pants.

  "Oh, no," I whispered. Daddy was going to hurt that man. He didn't like anyone messing with me. He'd always threatened that if someone ever hurt me, physically or mentally, that he would make the person pay for it.

  Dad had his hand wrapped around the gun the entire time, even as he looked through the peephole. But when he peered out, a soft chuckle escaped him and he immediately lowered his guard.

  Wait. What?

  "Jesus, Kandy." Dad looked back at me, letting out a heavy sigh.

  "Who is it?" Mom asked, still worried.

  Dad reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. And there he stood, the strange smoking man with the tattoos and tan skin.

  "Cane!" Dad let out a hard, coarse laugh. "What the hell, man? I almost pulled my gun on you, thinking you were some stranger messing with my daughter!"

  Cane?

  Cane, the stranger, laughed. "Did I scare her, really?" He stepped into the house and I held Mom tighter. "I was only kidding, Kandy. I know who you are. I know all about you. We’ve actually met before, but you probably can’t remember."

  “Yep, she was six, right?” Dad said, smiling. “It was brief though. Dropped something off for him after picking you up from school. You waved at him and everything when he said hey.”

  “I don’t remember,” I mumbled. My eyebrows were pinched. I was still mad at him.

  Cane held up a bottle of wine he had in hand, looking at Dad. "I brought you gu
ys something to go along with dinner."

  "Oh—Cane, that was sweet, but you didn't have to," Mom said, pulling away and walking over to grab it. She smiled at him and he returned one.

  No, Mom! What are you doing! Stay away from him!

  "Please. It's not like me to show up for an occasion empty handed. It was the least I could do. That's our number one selling brand, too. You'll love it. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Derek has told me all about your love for wine."

  Mom blushed. Seriously, she blushed. Why was everyone falling for his charm but me?

  Cane dropped his gaze to me again. "I even brought something for you, little one."

  "I don't want it," I muttered back, crossing my arms.

  "Kandy—" Mom started to scold me, but Cane shook his head, softly smiling.

  "It's okay. I scared her. She just has to warm up to my twisted sense of humor."

  He walked my way with slow, measured steps, and when he was about an inch away, he knelt down on one knee, digging into his pocket and pulling out a red bag. A sticker with the word Tempt was on it.

  "Can you guess what it is?" he asked softly.

  I blinked down at the bag. I was more curious than angry at that moment. "No. What?"

  "Chocolate." He handed me the bag. I gladly took it, but still stared down at it like it was puke in my palm. "Your father told me you love chocolate. There's lots more where that came from, Bits."

  "Bits?" I questioned, nose scrunching as I met his eyes. I noticed they were a mixed shade. Gray and green. Pretty. They reminded me of the marbles I collected with the colors inside, clear all around with the color in the middle.

  "Your name is Kandy, but all I'm getting is bitterness. Bits for bitterness," he said.

  Dad laughed behind him and I felt my face turn hot.

  "What do you say, Kandy?" Mom asked, tucking loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears.

  "I don't know his name, Mom," I groaned.

  "Mr. Cane," she replied.

  I sighed, trying hard not to roll my eyes. Yes, I was glad about the chocolate, but I was still upset with him. "Thank you, Mr. Cane," I mumbled.