Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  “Fuck!” She panted the word, her walls squeezing me, enticing me to move before she was ready.

  I didn’t want to take my time, I wanted to pound into her hard and fast, but we had three more days and I wanted her to be ready for me. Every. Fucking. Day.

  “So fucking tight,” I told her as I pulled nearly all the way out and pushed back in. Again and again until the only sounds she made were loud, shrill and incoherent.

  “Such a wet fuckin’ cunt. Soaked just for me.”

  Every dirty word from my mouth made her pussy clench and squeeze so hard I thought she might push me out completely.

  “Oh fuck yeah! Eamon.” She moaned my name like it was the only goddamn word in her vocabulary, pussy pulsing because she was close. “Yeah? You like it when I fuck you hard and deep like this?”

  The pace wasn’t fast but I fucked her deep. Every thrust pushing her and the sofa away from me, and when she reached for me, I grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back.

  “Eamon?” The question was equal parts desire, fear and wariness. Good, she should be wary.

  “Don’t worry princess, you’ll like it when I hold you down and fuck you. If you don’t, let me know.”

  But I knew she wouldn’t. Gripping her forearms with a forceful tug, I slid my dick in and out of her, hard and fast and deep while she squirmed and moaned and screamed her fucking pleasure.

  Then she was coming. Hard. Strangling my dick to the point of pain but I didn’t give a shit, not when her body convulsed so hard it milked me dry in one long pulse.

  “Oh, oh, oh yesssss!” she screamed.

  Another tidal wave slammed against her, pulling her under while I continued fucking her until my cock was too soft to stay inside her, until my nuts were completely spent.

  I smacked her ass and collapsed on top of her. “Fuck me, I can fuck that pussy all night long.”

  Layla laughed, a husky amused sound as she looked at me over her shoulder. “Never received a compliment like that before, but thanks.”

  I smacked her ass and pulled back, separating our sticky bodies as the cool air hit us. “Take a shower if you want but don’t think about leaving or putting on clothes.”

  It took her a minute but Layla finally turned over and stood, shaking out her limbs with a satisfied smile. “A shower sounds nice,” she said and turned to me with a question in her beautiful blue eyes. “Where would the bathroom be?”

  “Right. Through the master bedroom at the end of the hall.” I didn’t feel the need to follow her or show her where anything was because I knew women. She’d snoop, it was inevitable and just like the others, she would walk away disappointed. This was my home but mostly it was just where I laid my head at night, had a meal once in a while. It wasn’t where I kept anything important, not to a woman anyway.

  I just hoped she didn’t piss me off before I had my fill of her, not if I would be on the hook for her father’s debt. Layla was a freak and she was the best fucking kind, an undiscovered freak and I needed to fuck her until she couldn’t walk. I had to. She was more than a tight cunt with a tighter body, she was that rare woman who actually loved to fuck. She didn’t just tolerate it because she got all that came along with it, no Layla loved a good fuck. Threw herself into it and best of all, the kinkier and dirtier it was, the more turned on and wet she became.

  The sound of the shower turned on quickly, surprising me since I’d expected her to spend a few minutes snooping while the water warmed up. The thought of the water slicking over those curves and thinking that maybe she was thinking of me and touching herself, had my feet on the move and heading toward the master bathroom. “Need some help?”

  She sucked in a breath at the intrusion and turned to me with a smile. “There are a few hard to reach spots you could help me with.”

  And just like that, I was ready to go again with Layla’s legs wrapped around my waist as I fucked her hard under the waterfall shower spray. There was no foreplay and no preamble, just a good hard fuck that had us both coming in under a minute. “Fuck!” The word came out as a loud roar as I shot my load into her screaming, quivering body.

  “Not sure I can walk after that,” she said with a low, throaty tone.

  “Don’t worry, the bed is just a few feet away and I’m happy to carry you there and keep you there.” For the night.

  And the next four fucking days.

  ***

  “Not that I’m complaining, but if we keep this up I’m going to need a saline drip to hydrate my body.” Layla smiled the smile of a woman who’d been well fucked. Her blonde hair was mussed from my hands, gripping it while I fucked her mouth, her pussy and even while I kissed her until she clenched around my fingers.

  I went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of water, handing one to her. “Can’t have you dehydrated when I need you dripping wet, can I?”

  Her little pink tongue snaked out and licked her lips, telling me she liked what she was hearing. “That would be tragic,” she said, her tone joking.

  “You’re different than I thought you’d be.” Where the fuck did those words come from?

  “Yeah, tell me.”

  I shrugged because the cat was already out of the fucking bag, so why not? “I thought you were some spoiled college girl who’d make this arrangement miserable because of the circumstances.”

  Her smile dimmed and I wondered if I’d said too much. “First of all I wish I was spoiled. If not for a full academic scholarship I’d probably be waiting tables at one of the casinos in Rocket.”

  “And second?”

  “Would it do me any good to make this situation worse by complaining? You’re a good fuck which helps me forget, well at least until you brought it up.”

  Right. “Well we can talk about something else.”

  “As long as it’s not small talk?” She laughed before I could reply, waving away the reply on my lips good-naturedly. “I do have a question.”

  “Yes, I’ll be ready to go again in a few minutes,” I told her and thrust my hips against the side of her leg, appreciating that she didn’t misinterpret what tonight was. There was a respectable distance between us on the bed, naked.

  “How much money does my dad owe you?” At my silence she pressed on. “I’ve already agreed to this so whether it’s a few hundred or a few grand, it doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

  I could tell she wanted to know, hell she probably needed to know considering what she was giving up to get the damn debt paid. “Knowing won’t make it any easier.”

  “Maybe, but it can’t make it any harder, can it?” The way she said it gave me pause. I knew she was enjoying herself, her screams and her body didn’t lie, but was that just based on circumstance?

  “Is this hard?”

  “It’s not easy, but at least the dick is damn good.” She made an effort at a genuine smile but it wasn’t, dammit. “Is this your way of changing the subject?”

  “Your father has a serious gambling problem, Layla.”

  She sighed and blew out a deep breath before turning those large emerald eyes onto me. “So I’ve gathered. How long have you known him?”

  “Years. He’s been doing business with us for years.” At first he never borrowed more than a few grand at a time but over the past few years it had only gotten worse, a fact I didn’t want to burden her with. Not right now when I wanted to fuck her.

  “Years? And stupid me thinking he was depressed and drowning his sorrows in booze when it was worse. So much worse.”

  She covered her face with her hands and I wondered if I was going to have to console a crying woman instead of fucking her.

  “I’m such an idiot. No wonder you don’t think much of me.”

  “Lay—,”

  “No, I didn’t say that for a compliment. It doesn’t matter but what does matter to me is his debt. How much is it?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I’m paying this stupid debt with my body and I dese
rve to know how much it is.”

  And that was the one point I couldn’t argue. “Forty grand. Forty-three and a half to be precise.”

  She sucked in a breath as my words sank in, her eyes so wide I thought they might pop right out of her head. “Holy fuck. Why would you even loan him that amount of money?”

  Here it came, the berating, like it was the fault of the Connelly family that her dad couldn’t handle his shit. “Because everyone always pays.”

  Her head nodded absently as she processed my words. “Yeah, I get that. But what about my broke-ass dad made you think he could ever pay back so much money?”

  “Like I said, everyone always pays. One way or another. If they can’t come up with the cash then they run errands, make deliveries or do whatever we need done until my father says the debt is clear. Sometimes we put them to work on the streets selling ass, making risky deliveries or gathering intel. There are plenty of ways to repay a debt, Layla.”

  “No kidding.” The words were weighted with a heaviness I didn’t like.

  “Don’t ever follow your old man’s footsteps honey, you have a shitty poker face.”

  Layla shrugged, drawing my attention to the delicate curve of her neck. “I wasn’t trying to mask anything,” she said honestly.

  I knew exactly what she was thinking. Wondering how many other times I’d cashed in a debt with pussy. I never did it because I didn’t have to; women were basic creatures. They either wanted to fuck a rich guy in hopes of it leading to a long-term relationship, or they wanted to fuck a hot guy because they were in search of a night or two of pleasure. And I was both.

  “Those thoughts aren’t helpful, princess.”

  She stiffened beside me and turned her gaze to mine. “You can’t possibly know what I’m thinking or if it’ll help.”

  “You’re wondering how many times I’ve done this.”

  Layla looked at me and burst out laughing. “God, you are even more arrogant than you seem. I was thinking that if I made forty grand for four days of work, I’d be a rich woman right now.”

  Okay, I hadn’t expected that. “So you’re saying I should add a few more days?”

  “No,” she grinned. “I’m just wondering if I would’ve been a successful hooker.”

  For some reason I didn’t want to examine too closely, I didn’t like Layla thinking of herself like that. She wasn’t a hooker, she was a woman doing what needed to be done to save someone she cared about. That was the Connelly way and I respected the hell out of her for it. But clearly, the night was over. “I have an early morning tomorrow so you should probably head home. My driver is waiting downstairs for you and she’ll pick you up tomorrow at the same time.”

  Layla froze for a brief second and then, instead of reacting or responding, she left the bed and then the bedroom. I paused, waiting to hear grumbling or maybe even the sound of something breaking but there was nothing but silence. Not even the hint of a rustle of clothing as she got dressed.

  Strange. I got off the bed and strode butt naked into the living room to catch her snooping, but she wasn’t snooping, damn her. Nope, Layla had gathered her clothes into a pile, picking up each article and sliding it on in total silence. “You okay?”

  “Yep. Fine.” Fine, the universal female word for not fucking fine at all but since she wasn’t my problem, I didn’t ask again. But I watched her step into her panties and pull them up her fine legs until they were settled on her hips. Next was the bra and finally the dress. She didn’t dress with as much care as I was sure she had at the start of the evening but it went quickly. She slipped on her coat, picked up her shoes and purse before turning to me. “Goodnight.”

  That was it. No kiss to keep me interested, no longing looks that said she might be getting the wrong idea. Just a bland farewell that I wanted, hell expected.

  But somehow it left me feeling unsatisfied.

  Layla Michaels wasn’t at all what I expected in the best possible way and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

  Because tomorrow, she’d be mine again, all night long.

  Chapter Nine

  Layla

  Stupid. So fucking stupid. That was how I felt as I climbed into the back of the limo, which now held a distinctively cool air. Stupid. Like a stupid, fucking whore. And Eamon Connelly had made me feel that way.

  That asshole.

  But was he the real asshole or was I the asshole who allowed him to make me feel this way? I knew what this was, a quick hard fuck to pay back a debt. No more and no fucking less. But here I was feeling like I’d been used. Well used and in the best possible way but still, his mood changes made my head spin.

  That was the thing no one ever said about good—no great—sex. That the intensity and the hormones can confuse even the smartest of women into thinking—mistakenly—that some kind of connection was taking place when it wasn’t. The only things connecting were our bodies, wet and panting, until the pleasure became too much to bear and had to escape our bodies in what can only be described as the perfect orgasm. And if I was smart, I’d have gotten up as soon as the last shiver left my body and got the hell out of dodge.

  But the shower sex had been memorable. Not just memorable but unforgettable. It was so hot and hard with the addition of the steam and water, the rawness of it had been hot as fuck. A shiver shot through me in the back of the limo at the thought of that encounter. But like men do, Eamon had to go and ruin it by reminding me he was a world-class asshole.

  It was a good reminder for me though, because there were times back there that I really felt a connection and I tried not to make too many connections. Some shrink would probably say it had to do with losing my mom at such a pivotal age and they might’ve been right, but that only made the connection I felt more disconcerting.

  I’d just keep reminding myself that the guy he was after he’d fucked me, was who Eamon Connelly really was. He wasn’t some good guy, he was just a good lay. This wasn’t some love affair and it wasn’t even a proper booty call. I was in his bed, on his sofa and in his shower because I had to be. To clear Dad’s debt.

  This was a paid fuck, plain and simple. No matter how nice he may have seemed or how much he charmed me, I needed to remember what this arrangement really was. A business transaction.

  Nothing more.

  Which is why I spent the rest of the limo ride back to my place, catching up on the day’s news on my phone. Okay, the week’s news because work kept me busy and when it didn’t, making sure Dad was taken care of did and I didn’t get a lot of time to myself. The time I did get was usually spent watching reality TV and crime documentaries.

  But there was a lot going on in the world, some of it was a hell of a lot more interesting than what was going on in my life. No matter how dark and twisted it was. I got absorbed in world events until the limo came to a halt outside my apartment building. I hopped out before the pixie driver had a chance to remove her seatbelt, hurrying up the stairs and inside my building just in case the little fairy thought of doing something crazy like walking me to my door.

  Thankfully, the halls and the elevator were empty so I could do my walk of shame without an audience. Not that I felt much shame.

  Anger? Yeah.

  Humiliation? Double yeah.

  Homicidal? Fuck yeah.

  But I was home now and day one was over with, which meant I was that much closer to the end of my … sentence? Billing cycle?

  Whatever it was, we were one day closer to the end of this little game. When I was less frustrated, I might examine why that didn’t make me as happy as it should, but I was exhausted and nothing but a hot bath and a glass of something strong and dark would cure it.

  Chapter Ten

  Eamon

  Another reason I didn’t mess around with good girls? They made a guy feel bad when he had no damn reason to feel anything of the sort. I hadn’t done anything wrong to Layla. I didn’t break any promises and I didn’t mistreat her, yet here I was feeling like an asshole watching the
limo carry her away.

  Until tomorrow.

  Tonight though, tonight I had other business and as soon as she was out of my eyesight I went back to my room and got dressed in jeans and a sweater because nighttime in Rocket could be cold as shit. Even though I enjoyed receiving payment tonight from Layla, I couldn’t be sure her old man had gotten the message. It wouldn’t be the first time Peter Michaels had said one thing and done another, which meant I had to put on my game face and show him that I meant business.

  That my family meant fucking business.

  I hopped on my bike and made my way back to the shitty little apartment he now called home after selling the house Layla had grown up in to feed his gambling habit. Retracing my steps from earlier, I stopped at the top landing, pulled out my phone and called my driver. “Did Ms. Michaels make it home safely?”

  “She did, about twenty minutes ago. I stayed like you asked and she hasn’t left again.”

  “Thanks, Gigi. Watch another ten minutes and tell me if anything changes. If it doesn’t, you can head home for the night.”

  “Got it, Boss. Later.”

  I rolled my eyes because I hated that she always called me boss like we were factory workers in the 1940’s. Without another word, I ended the call and stopped on the faded black mat in front of Peter Michaels’ apartment. I raised my fist and knocked hard, feeling wound up and angry that I was back here again because it made me think of the last visit.

  Me pounding the fuck out of him.

  Layla strolling inside and trying to protect her father.

  A hot fucking mess.

  “Yeah, whaddya want … oh, Mr. Connelly?” The son of a bitch had the audacity to roll his eyes as if I was the one inconveniencing him.

  “What do I want? What I want is for you to pay what we were so gracious to loan you in the first place, but since you haven’t, I thought we needed to have a little talk.”