Shannon

by Shara Azod

  “Shannon! Oh God, Shannon!”

  Yeah, he liked the sound of his name on her lips. He was going to have to keep it there for a while yet. Shoving his pants down past his hips, he moved up only enough so that the head of his cock brushed against her tasty pussy.

  “Sunshine doesn’t suit you,” he announced with a sudden burst of inspiration. “I think I will call you Shay.”

  “Shay?” she choked out, her beautiful face puckered in confusion.

  “Yeah. Shay for Shannon.” Unwilling to discuss that or anything else further, he thrust hard and deep.

  He wasn’t prepared for his first thrust. Shay was tight—too tight. Her pussy walls gripped him unmercifully, locking down on him. He had to seesaw his way all the way inside. Not a virgin, but she certainly hadn’t been fucked in a good long while.

  “Put your legs around my waist, sugar,” Shannon growled. “And hold on tight.”

  Slow wasn’t an option. Especially not with the heels of her feet pressing into his buttocks, urging him deeper. The walls of her quim vibrated all around his dick, massaging him so goddamn perfectly he felt that shit down to his balls. Her sharp little teeth biting at his ear, the side of his neck, his fucking pec. The harder he slammed inside her, the more she bit, clawed, kicked. When he captured her wrists, pinning them to the bed, the hellcat bit his bottom lip. “Harder,” she demanded, digging her heels deeper into his buttocks.

  “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.” It was too fucking good. Hot, wet and tight; his baby was a triple threat.

  “Please, Shannon, I need you so bad.” Fuck, her back arched magnificently, curving her body upward into his. “I need to come. Shannon, make me come.”

  Well, shit. That had his hips thrusting harder, faster. He wasn’t going to last.

  “Come for me, baby. Let it go.” Maybe if she came he could get control. Maybe she wouldn’t hug his shaft quite so snugly.

  He was kidding himself. As soon as he gave her permission, she erupted, her walls contracting unmercifully around him. “Shit!” Shannon bucked, slamming inside her over and over again in a desperate drive to get as deep as he possibly could, and it still was nowhere near deep enough. “Fuck, Shay, baby, yeah. Suck down on my cock with your pussy. Take it, baby.” There was no way he could hold on. He powered inside her, erupting with a roar.

  Chapter Four

  Shay was in trouble. Shannon O’Shea was deadly. This was the last man on earth she should be fucking because his ass was addicting. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. And just like they were girlfriend and boyfriend or some corny shit, he rolled off her, went into the bathroom only to return with a wet warm cloth, and proceeded to clean her off. If that wasn’t weird enough, the man climbed back on the bed and pulled her into a cocoon consisting solely of him.

  “Sleep,” he commanded. “I’ll want you again in an hour. You won’t get much sleep tonight.”

  Shay had done her research. None of the O’Shea brothers were down for relationships. They were cold bastards, all business. Word was they hated Old Man O’Shea and were slowly taking over the family empire. She figured she could hide as a worker bee, not making waves, not bringing notice to herself. And what happened? Immediately, she caught the notice of Shannon O’Shea. Not as lethal as his brother Fionn, but every bit as merciless as all four of them.

  And what the fuck with calling her by her actual nickname? There was no doubt in her mind he had no idea who she was; otherwise she’d be answering questions right now, not being cuddled by a man who was rumored to have no heart. First thing in the morning she needed to get herself downstairs and start working like any of the other girls. Stay as far away from this man as possible. Screwing a bunch of anonymous guys was far, far safer than spending another night like this—not that he would want seconds…

  But as the sun rose Shay had to revise that assessment. Oh yes, he had wanted seconds, thirds and fourths. There wasn’t a muscle in her body that wasn’t sore. Bite marks peppered her body…and his. Shannon created a wild woman in her, or maybe he just released a part of her she never knew was there. In any case, this might not have been such a good idea. The man had her in every position, wouldn’t allow her to hold anything back. For a woman who didn’t date much, or at all really, it was like a flood after a drought. How was anyone supposed to keep a hold of themselves after a night like that? Shit, she could feel some kind of weird attachment between them already. Not something she needed. Selling her body was one thing—she could rationalize that to keep her life. But selling her soul?

  Slipping out the cage of his arms, Shay dared a quick shower, then looked around the room for her clothes. Her dress was nowhere, and she wasn’t about to put the same underwear back on, so she rummaged through the closet, pulling out a Patriots jersey. It fell to mid-thigh, covering most of her. Taking another look around, she decided to act like the call girl she was pretending to be. There was a small kitchen, so she fetched him a bottle of water, setting it next to the bed. Standing with her hands on her hips at the foot of the bed, she had to shake her head. The big-ass Irishman hadn’t even bothered to take his shit kickers off. He lay sprawled across the bed, stone-cold knocked out.

  Well, he had earned his sleep. He’d probably be at least half as sore as she was when he woke. Noting a cigar and a dime bag on the nightstand, she quickly rolled him a blunt before sneaking off downstairs. This place probably had a room full of outfits for the freaks who came to buy pussy. It was weird that Shay was perfectly fine with having sex with a man who’d paid for it. Then again, they didn’t want to know who she was, could care less what she was running from or even if she had any kind of dreams outside these walls. They just wanted the fantasy, to get off then move on. She was nothing more than a piece of meat. That was fine coming from a stranger. But from Shannon….

  Damn it, she really needed to stop thinking about him.

  Making her way back to the office they were in the night before, she ran straight into the silent mountain that had ushered her into the room the night before. Thank God.

  “Hey, can you show me where the clothes are? Costumes or something?”

  As if she were speaking Chinese, he just stood there and stared, the bound and gagged woman still in the chair, though she wasn’t tied to it—her hands were behind her. The woman’s eyes were wild, her bright burgundy hair all over the place, as her glare shot daggers at Shay. Like Shay had something to do with the chick being all bound.

  Turning away from the woman who had obviously pissed off the wrong person, she tried again.

  “Mickey, right? Can you tell me where I can get some clothes so I can go downstairs?” Nothing. Not a blink, not a twitch. Nothing. “Look, I just want to go downstairs to the lineup. I am guessing there is a lineup?”

  Of course there was a lineup—at least there had been at her brother’s houses. She might be a teacher but she spent more than her fair share of time helping her brother run things, just never in open sight. She was the advisor no one ever saw, never knew about. In the community she was a paragon. It led for a boring public life, but she had been content. The important thing was, she learned enough to blend, and right now she really needed to do that. That meant getting her ass somewhere so she was just one of the herd.

  “Look, I just want to start work.” Okay, now she was frustrated. The mountain just would not move, wouldn’t speak, just stared at her, and the chick in the corner had somehow worked her hands free. Not that Mickey here was aware of it. Nope, he was too busy looking at Shay like she had four breasts. Fascinated, not repelled, but not really sure if he should be.

  One thing Shay knew good and damn well was this man wasn’t stupid. Nor was he mute. He chose not to talk, and there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him. She knew that because her brother had a mountain just like him—D’Andre. Had D’Andre been with her brother that night…

  Nope. Make money, make a plan, then get the fuck out—that was all she needed to be concentrating on right now. But thi
s Mickey guy wasn’t talking, and the crazy-eyed chick was just about to rush out the door after getting herself completely free. Out of the corner of her eye Shay could see the woman’s bloody wrists, caught the slight movement of her balancing herself on the balls of her feet while sitting, ready to spring. There was a clear path to the door if no one moved. Crazy lady’s eyes were glued to Mickey Mountain, having completely dismissed Shay.

  Now this was the kind of shit Shay just didn’t need right about now. She could ignore it, let whoever she was escape, because really it was none of her business. However, a pissed-off O’Shea could spell trouble, and she needed to make Mickey Mountain her friend, so giving him a little assist couldn’t hurt.

  She hoped.

  ***

  The blaring phone made Shannon jump up, grabbing and answering before he could check the caller ID. Not good. The very last person he ever wanted to speak to was on the other line.

  “What’s this I hear about you replacing girls? And sales at the pharmacy have gone down. I got guys complainin’ about not being able to buy guns without going through some kind of bullshit question-and-answer session. We ain’t the feds, boyo! Is this is how you run shit? Maybe you ain’t ready. Never thought your pansy ass was—”

  Shannon dropped the phone onto the mattress. Once upon a time his so-called father’s tirade would’ve pissed him off, but not today. Grabbing the water on the nightstand he took a deep swig, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck, he felt like he had gone through fifteen rounds…

  There was water beside his bed. Cold water. Staring at the nightstand he noted the few items that had been strewn across the surface were all neatly placed in a row. There was a rolled blunt in the ashtray. While the bed was a mess, everything else was all nice and neat. Someone had recently taken a shower too; the air had that misty freshness.

  Shay.

  Shannon was out of bed in a flash, leaving the phone right where it was as he stomped out of the room. Damn good thing he didn’t have to do more than pull up his jeans as he stormed down the stairs. She fucking better not have left. Shouldn’t have left the bed. He was almost to the office, where he’d left her dress last night, when he heard her voice.

  “Look, I just want to start work.”

  That pissed him off. There was no way in hell he was allowing her to lie under any man besides himself. He was about to charge in and drag her back to bed, but then he heard Mickey.

  “Mr. O’Shea wouldn’t want you downstairs without him.”

  Goddamn right! But how the hell did Mickey know that? Shannon eased to the edge of the door, daring a peek inside the room. Shay was there in his Patriots jersey, looking like she needed to be fucked some more until she learned not to leave his fucking bed. Mickey was looking down at her like he was scared, and Magda…

  Magda chose that moment to bolt from the chair to the door. Tried for the door, anyway. Before either he or Mickey could move, Shay did a roundhouse, her foot connecting with the side of Magda’s head, knocking the woman clean out.

  Who. The. Fuck. Was. This. Woman?

  “Thank you.” Shannon witnessed something he’d never thought he’d see in a million years. Mickey actually reached out and patted Shay on the shoulder like they were old friends. Mickey never touched anyone voluntarily unless he was doing his job. But the next words out of the mouth of the man Shannon thought he knew floored him. “I’d hug you, but Mr. O’Shea wouldn’t like that. Please go back upstairs while I deal with her?”

  Shannon eased back away from the door. He already knew Mickey was referring to Magda. But how the hell did he know Shannon wouldn’t like him hugging Shay? He wouldn’t, but that was beside the point.

  “I don’t think Mr. O’Shea would mind you or anyone else hugging me,” he heard Shay reply. There was deep exasperation in her voice, which he really couldn’t blame her for. It wasn’t as if they discussed what her position would be last night. Mostly because Shannon had no idea. “I just really want to get to work.”

  “You’re in a hurry to be a whore?” Mickey asked her.

  This was the most Shannon had heard Mickey say in over a month. And here he was just volunteering words to a woman whom they both just laid eyes on last night. This entire conversation the two of them were having bothered the ever-living shit out of him, but he couldn’t put his fingers on why. All he knew was he didn’t want Mickey talking to Shay; he didn’t want Shay…fuuuuuck, he didn’t want anyone talking to, looking at or even knowing about Shay. By all rights he should barge in there and stop this, but he really wanted to know her answer to that last question.

  “I’m in a hurry to make enough money to never have to be anyone’s whore ever again.”

  That was a damn good answer.

  But it only deepened her mystery. The sooner he found out who she was the better. But in the meantime, the only bed she’d be sharing was his.

  Chapter Five

  Nothing. Not a single inquiry had managed to come up with any information on the mysterious Shay, or whatever her real name was. Leaning against the wall in the back of the warehouse office, he watched Shay interrogate the guys who’d been working at the largest arsenal under his control. She’d already helped him close two smaller ones, leaving this one, and one other in which weapons of every type were stored. Proficiently. Like she knew what the fuck she was doing. Not once had he had to tell her what each firearm was—she knew at first glance. She also knew who was probably working with Paddy, separating the ones who Shannon suspected were selling to street punks who didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground or worse, fuckers who had no business running around the neighborhood armed.

  And Mickey—the fucker was hovering behind her like her fucking shadow. Which on one hand, he liked because no one would dare try to fuck with her, but on the other… Fuck, he just couldn’t put that shit into words. Any man too close to her just pissed him off. Not being inside her pissed him off. Not knowing who or what she was hiding from pissed him off. And she was hiding. It was the only thing that made sense.

  “So you’re saying the shipment of AKs was short a case?” Shay blinked up at the poor slob who was going to be on the list for Fionn to dispose of.

  Davie Byrne, not much older than Shannon or any of his brothers. Davie thought his shit didn’t stink because his father was in good with Paddy. Poor bastard had another think coming.

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” Davie sneered back, licking his lips obscenely as he pointedly stared at her breasts before sending a knowing look back at Shannon. “Your trained monkey seems to have a problem understanding plain English, O’Shea. Maybe you care to share her with some guys who can teach her a thing or two?”

  There was no thought, no debate. Shannon was off the wall, over the desk with Davie’s throat in his grip before anyone else could move. Mickey, God bless him, shot to the door, barring anyone waiting outside from coming in. But everyone out there could see what he was doing; the office had a glass door and walls in the front.

  “You don’t want to do this, O’Shea,” Davie was stupid enough to gasp around Shannon’s ever-increasing grip. “The old man wouldn’t be happy with ya.”

  Shannon smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. Suddenly he let go, stepping back as Davie crumbled to the ground. A quick death was too merciful. He wasn’t in the mood to be merciful.

  “Glad to see you come to your senses.” Davie coughed, slowly climbing to his knees. “Though I don’t think your da will be pleased with you defending a—UFF!”

  Shannon’s steel-toed boot connected with deadly accuracy with the man’s ribs, causing him to slam face first into the concrete floor.

  “Get up.” He wasn’t done with Davie. Not by a long shot.

  “Come on, man!” Davie whined, putting one hand up as if to ward him off. “You can’t be serious over—”

  The sound of Davie’s nose crunching under Shannon’s fist reverberated through the warehouse. There was no other sound, no other movement.

  “
Get the fuck up,” Shannon ordered once more, his voice deadly calm. Inside he was raging. Anger turned the blood in his veins to molten lava. He needed to kill, he was going to kill, but he wanted everyone there to see and remember what he was about to do.

  Being an O’Shea had made him used to the whispers, the side looks, the distrust. It didn’t matter what was said about him to his face or otherwise. But this son of a bitch had insulted what was his. That would not stand.

  Acknowledgement flickered in Davie’s eyes, that look a man got knowing he was done.

  “Please, Shannon, you have to think about this. Nothing good can come of this.”

  The stench of piss suddenly rose from where the blubbering man half sat, half lay on the ground, making no move to get up. Fucking pussy. A man who depended on the reputation of Shannon’s father was no man at all, as Davie was fast learning. Even if Shannon decided to let him live, Davie would never live this down. No one would trust him—no one would deal with him. He was no longer a man in the eyes of those who stood watching.

  Lifting his foot once more, Shannon slammed it head-on into Davie’s face, then twisted the sole into the man’s chest while placing his full weight on the bone. He could feel the bones crunch beneath his foot, saw Davie’s eyes go wide with pain, but it wasn’t enough. Making a show of wiping the blood off the expensive leather of his footwear, he bent to seize Davie by the front of his shirt, then slammed his fist into his face repeatedly until it was just as red mash of what used to be skin. Dropping him to the floor again, he stomped the prone figure a few times to emphasize his point, before standing calmly and walking over to place himself directly behind Shay.

  Mickey immediately slung the shell that once was Davie over his shoulder and made his way out of the office.

  Efficiency. Shannon like that shit.