by Dani Stowe
“I do.”
“Tell me you want me to slip my cock into your cunt and claim it.”
“I want you to—”
“Tell me this cunt is mine.”
“It’s yo—”
“Tell me...” Tiny licks his lips before he leans over to lay on top of me, kissing me. He fists the hair at the top of my head before planting his forehead to mine with his eyes ablaze, beaming directly through me. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want—ah!” I’m entered.
Feeling the full force of him now, Tiny slams into me repeatedly. Using my head as leverage with his fingers entangled in my hair plus working the abs, thighs, and buttocks he obviously works out regularly, Tiny plunges his long, thick shaft to penetrate me. “Finish,” he says with a bite on my ear. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me to fuck you until I’m coming in you.”
I’m filled with so much ecstasy and lust and need. He can have whatever he wants. “Yes,” I reply, raking my own fingers through his hair at the back of his head. “Come in me, Tiny, and make me come. I want to come on you.”
He growls, pulling my leg tight over his waist and shifting his hips. Tiny’s muscles tense and release under my thigh when I feel the rub of his lower torso against my mound. Tiny repositions himself again as he continues to move in and out of me until the rub of his torso lands over my clit and I can’t believe it! This man is a master. He’s no fucking sex therapist. He’s a sex god! The man is plunging in and out of me while maneuvering his groin to rub up against my clit until I’m bursting.
“I’m coming!” I scream, my climax made possible by the friction of his lower torso, and he grunts, coming with me, filling me with his hot cum.
He covers me in kisses, peppering them across my neck.
I want to laugh and my body squirms. I feel like a kid again and I wonder how I ever turned this man away in the first place.
He leans up, looking down on me. “I want to do it again.”
“Again? You want to do it again?” My eyes narrow. “Right now?”
His brow raises. “Whenever you’re ready.” He strokes my hair and I can still feel him hard within me.
Chapter 11
Nancy
I try to escape him. The man is insatiable. We just did it, and he wants to do it again?
In truth, it’s adorable, though what’s more adorable is Tiny clawing after me, knowing he wants to attack me but not out of anger or need. He just loves me. I maneuver out of his hungry clutches and am nearly off the bed when he grabs me to throw me headfirst back into the mattress. I land on my belly as we bounce and he tickles me until he lands flat and painfully heavy on back.
It’s strange.
He’s so heavy.
Like dead weight.
“Tiny?” I whisper and wiggle, feeling the small throb of where I believe his chin has bruised my spine. I can’t move. Fuck, he’s like an animal. A big dead animal...
The flutter of my heart comes to a crash. Something’s not right. “Tiny?”
“Just toss him on the floor,” says a familiar voice that sends a prickle of fear to crawl under my skin.
The weight of the man who was about to make love to me again is lifted. I immediately clamp my legs and turn around then attempt a scream at what I see but my mouth is immediately covered and my head slammed back, pressed into the mattress. I kick my legs and flail my arms, trying to grip anything I can get a hold of without touching the perpetrators. There are three of them. Three of whom I sadly recognize. Two goons and my boss have entered my apartment with guns and knocked Tiny out.
I bite the hand of the man I know as one of the bouncers from the club and turn my head away as he yelps, his enormous fist readies to punch me.
“Hey, hey, hey!” shouts Sam. “Don’t damage the goods. She’s worth five grand.”
I’m tugged by the leg and I kick. “Don’t fight, Nancy. We’re taking you back to the club,” says Sam and I hear a click. It settles me down. The sound is a warning and unavoidably eerie. It’s the sound of Sam’s gun, which he points at Tiny’s head. “If you don’t come with us right now, I’m going to kill your boyfriend. I’ll pop him in the head right here.”
I sit up to look down at Tiny. Naked. Unconscious. Vulnerable. My heart is heavy. No wings now. We never seem to get a break, he and I.
Fabric flies into my face and lands in my naked lap. “Put that on,” orders Sam. “And let’s go.”
I open the skirt. Bending down to slip my legs in, Tiny’s face appears to be twitching.
Sam kicks Tiny in the head and my eyes well up. “Hurry it up!” he tells me and I toss the shirt over my head.
“What the hell is going on here?” gripes a bothered soul.
Oh no! Alex!
“Go back to your mom,” I quickly cut in.
“Are these fuckers hurting you?” Alex points at Sam and catches a glimpse of Tiny on the floor. Alex, turning red, steps through the threshold. The kid looks enraged. “What the fuck?” he yells.
“Alex, go home!” I shout as I’m grabbed by the arm to stand up.
“Listen to your friend, kid,” warns Sam waving his gun around. “I’m her employer and I’m taking her back to the club. So, don’t worry. This ain’t any of your business.”
“To hell, this isn’t any of my business.” Alex charges. “You’d better leave her the fuck alone!”
A pop echoes in my ears followed by my own screaming. My mouth is covered once again and I’m warned to shut up, but I can’t stop blaring at the top of my lungs as I watch Alex fall to the ground.
Sam points his gun down at Tiny. “You’re coming with us, Nancy, or your older boyfriend is going to meet the same fate as your younger one. And you’d better keep it down.”
My hair is yanked at the back of the head as a hand remains over my mouth, and I’m led to the doorway. I start crying when I’m forced to step over Alex, flat and face down on the floor. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I can muster to avoid screaming aloud so Tiny won’t get shot as well because inside I’m still screaming...
Alex! Alex! Alex!
Chapter 12
Dontyne
Blood. It’s on the tip of my tongue.
It’s been a while since I’ve tasted defeat but I recognize it. Someone has overpowered me. My throbbing head is accompanied by the familiar ache of bruised flesh, weighty bones, and my cheek squished and flat against the floor.
I open my eyes. At least, I can do that. The last time I was beaten to ground was after Dickie Mueller kicked my ass. I couldn’t open my eyes. The nurses had to do that for me as they squeezed glops of antibiotics between my swollen lids once I got to the hospital.
Plain white walls with peeling paint come into view and I hear a moan and then a cry and then a whimper. I know those sounds. I’ve made them once before. I attempt to recall where the fuck I am. Another moan funnels its way into my ears and into my awakening consciousness and down through my quivering spine.
Fuck, someone is hurt. I can hear it in their voice. I need to get up. I put my hands under my chest and do a push up. I become fully aware that I’m naked as I push up off the floor.
“Aaaaah,” cries a voice in front of me and I peep up to see a kid, except he’s not just any kid. He’s Nancy’s kid. Not her real kid. But her kid.
Fuck! I quickly turn my head around to search for her. The front door is wide open, the kid is on the floor—obviously hurt, and Nancy is nowhere to be seen.
“Ugh,” the kid groans, so I crawl to him.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before but the kid is bleeding. Shit!
“Alex.” I rub the kids head. “Alex, what happened?”
“They took her. They took Nancy. They mentioned a club.”
The poor kid is more worried about my Nancy than himself and he’s fucking bleeding to death. I love him. “Where are you hurt?”
“My stomach. They shot me. Fuck, it hurts.”
Alex tries to rol
l over. “Kid, don’t move. I’m going to get you some help.”
My head is spinning but I force my legs under me and stand up to look for my jacket. I pull my phone from my breast pocket and hit 9-1-
The kid moans again. He’s looking very pale.
I skip the emergency call and scroll through my contacts. I hit Nick’s number.
“What?” Nick blurts.
“I need help. I believe Sam took Nancy and he shot her neighbor. The neighbor is still alive but he’s not looking good.”
“So, what the fuck are you calling me for? Dial 911.”
“Nick, he’s a kid. He’s eighteen. He’s still in high school. Please, man. I need you right now.”
“Mmm,” Nick growls. “Hold on.”
I head over to the kid as I wait for Nick to come back on the phone and I bend down to pat Alex’s head.
The kids laughs with a choke. “Dude, I know I’m dying and all, but can you cover your dong? I don’t want that thing to be the last thing I see if I bleed to de—” he coughs with another choke.
The paling of his skin mixed with his blood beginning to pool into a small spot on the floor makes me weak, but I force a smile and a chuckle.
“I pinged your phone,” reports Nick. “A helicopter is on the way. What’s the apartment number you’re in?”
I give Nick the apartment number and it doesn’t take but a few minutes for a helicopter to arrive. I’m still naked when a team of flight nurses come to load Alex onto a stretcher where they tape down wads of gauze to the hole under his right rib cage, hook him up to a bag of fluids, and then take him away.
Surprisingly, the paramedics ask no questions, though their glances indicate suspicion of foul play. Still, they do not pry or query as to the cause of the bullet hole and why there are no police involved.
I finally get to slipping on my clothes when Nick, who’s been waiting on the phone, speaks. “Are they gone?”
“Yes.” I pull up my pants.
“Did the kid make it?”
“He’s still alive, but I have no idea whether he will make it or won’t.”
“What do you want to do now, Don?”
“Hold on a second.” I drop the phone on Nancy’s table to pull my shirt on and button it up. I use the time it’s taking me to consider putting in a request with Nick for an upgraded plan. It is a plan which NIM has used in the past but it’s been a while—years even—since we’ve engaged with bullies to such a dangerous degree.
I tuck my shirt into my slacks and spin around. My belt is still on the floor.
Walking over to my belt, I also notice Nancy’s pants on the floor. I grit my teeth with the thought Sam may have taken her naked, someone is handling her naked. Handling my asset naked.
I slip the end of my belt through the loops of my pants. I know what I’m about to ask of NIM is a considerable request. Sam just shot Alex for fuck’s sake and we don’t even use guns when we get organized.
I pick up the phone. “Nick—”
“It’s about fucking time. What were you doing?”
“I was—”
“Shut up. I know exactly what you were doing. Why do you always hesitate? I know what you’re about ask Donnie boy. So, just ask it.”
“I’m not... not sure I should ask NIM to put their lives on the line fo-for me,” I stutter.
“Nobody’s putting their life on the line for you, Don. This about our assets.”
I exhale with relief. I don’t know why I ever doubt Nick’s support.
“Let me guess, you want to use a few guerilla tactics?” he asks. “You want to bring flashbang into the plan. Instead of luring Sam to us, you want to go to him, don’t you Don?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “If the rest of NIM agrees, I’d like to get Nancy back utilizing the alternate plan. Preferably soon. Now. If anything happens to her I...”
I choke up with the idea I might not see her again. I just fucking got her back. Even if the rest of NIM doesn’t help me, I’ll go in and get her myself.
“Keep your pants on. All of NIM will agree. I also have a bartender at the club whom I trust. He’s been loyal and I’m sure I can get him to let us in the back and give us a few details of what we can expect. Come to my office. We’ll hash out the details of the new plan.”
Nick hangs up and I place the phone down. Alex’s blood catches my eye. I wonder if I should just shoot Sam. I’ve never killed anyone before. If I’m doing it in the name of love, to save my loved one, then surely, I’ll be able to live with myself. I mean, really, it would be so much easier to just shoot the asshole the way he just shot Alex, a poor kid but with so much potential and already laden with so much responsibility.
I’d like to kill Sam. I’d like to choke him with my bare hands and strangle him until his tongue falls out and his lungs go limp and I probably could, but thankfully, I have NIM to keep me from committing such a heinous crime, from becoming a murderer. And then again, shooting Sam would be too merciful. NIM doesn’t do merciful. Not when it comes to bullies because never did a bully ever have mercy on us.
Not to mention, Sam sold my asset. My Nancy. She’s a human being for Christ’s sake and he fucking sold her. Sam deserves torture, not a quick death for that. Of course, if I did shoot Sam, the thought would forever haunt me and that’s no way to live, especially not with Nancy. I want to live with a clear conscious. I want to have what all the normal people have and I want to have it all with her. We’ll have a cute little cottage with a chain link fence that secures a couple of tiny Chihuahuas and happy chubby kids that will get into all kinds of fun trouble like the gang from Goonies.
I pull on my buckle, bringing my belt taut across my waist when Alex’s blood now smeared on the floor from the soles of paramedics catches my eye once more.
And maybe we’ll have Alex if he pulls through. The kid is wearing my pendant. Not that it means anything. Does it? There is some statistical evidence that randomness and meaning have some significance with regards to...
Ah fuck. Stop self-psychoanalyzing! If I continue on this path to understanding the meaning in my actions, in what NIM is about to do, I might lose my nerve...
And I need nerves.
Nerves of steel.
Reaching to my crotch, I adjust myself to get comfortable. My ego has already expanded beyond the confines of my right brain, crushing my left brain where logic lies. My ego inflates even larger when I see my coat has fallen to the ground. It looks like it’s been stepped on, which pisses me off.
Shame. I hate to see fine things on the floor. I should still consider killing those motherfuckers.
I bend down to pick up my coat, dusting it off before I put it on.
Jaxon, already wearing his ear plugs, coolly flips up the back tail of his coat as Nick opens the back door to the club. The wind blows steadily, helping Jaxon’s navy suit coat rise higher. I observe Jaxon’s hands reach to the sides of his pants where he’s clipped a couple of flashbangs—stun grenades, which resemble typical hand grenades, except these are in the shape of cylinders rather than an avocado.
Jaxon grips two flashbangs pulling them free and scurries into The Island’s empty back hall as Elliot stuffs his earplugs into his ears and follows behind with two full-face black dual cartridge respirator masks in hand.
Nick looks like he’s in utter agony—his face crinkled—trying to contain his laugh as I make every attempt to squeeze the gorilla head over my mask that I’ve already donned.
Somebody had to dress up like a gorilla to trigger Sam’s fear. Of course, that someone had to be me.
Nick and I flinch with the first loud bang echoing through the hall that is followed by shouting. Jaxon has already pulled the pin to the first stun grenade, which is intended to disorient Sam’s thugs inside with a blinding flash of light and intense deafening bang. Nick props his back against the door, keeping it open, and he slips his mask over his head.
Damn, I can never get used to the look of full face masks.
; Even though Nick is wearing a soft pink button-up shirt with a black tie painted with tiny white dots plus off-black slacks as if he’s about to perform in a modernized stage musical of Grease (which is way out of the ordinary and makes me suspect he let Loulah dress him today), the mask still makes Nick look like something out of a nuclear holocaust.
A second loud bang deafens the moaning and crying. The thugs are probably in pain and rolling on the ground now, unable to see or hear anything above the ringing in their heads. A few guns shots go off, but those are quickly silenced.
Nick kicks the door and widens it for me. “It’s now or never, asswipe. Get your fucking gorilla head on.”
Shit. I feel ridiculous and it’s not because I’m about to storm into a club dressed like a Goddamn ape, but because this is the third time Nick Rohr is calling me out—encouraging me to go forward—and he thinks I have no dick or balls for that matter.
I pound my fist over the top of the gorilla head, which doesn’t budge with so much gear on. “We’re wasting time. Let’s just go in,” I mumble through my mask.
Heading towards the cries of stunned men, I stomp through the hall nearly tripping. These fucking gorilla feet sprouting four-inch fake front gorilla toes in front of my already huge thirteen size shoe makes it hard to walk at a quick pace.
I feel so fucking stupid but I remind myself, I’m getting Nancy back.
Nick zips past me and I follow right behind him. He will lead us to Sam’s office where the bartender told us Sam would be.
As Nick and I round a corner, we see Jaxon and Elliot having a go with their cans of mace spray. I chuckle to myself knowing this isn’t ordinary mace spray. These goons are being doused with Jaxon’s specially formulated mace. Not only does it make their eyes and lungs burn of what feels like Devil’s piss on fire, but Jaxon also added an industrial adhesive of his own making to the formula. As the thugs rub their eyes after being sprayed, their hands become stuck there. It feels like hell. I know—I let Jaxon test it on me.
NIM can’t always test everything because the government won’t always let us, so we have to test it ourselves, especially the “cool” stuff and adhesive mace—though it made me sick—is fucking cool.
