Masterson Made

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  “Hold up! Let me stop you right there before you work yourself up in a tizzy. If there’s one thing that I know about that control freak is that he loves the stinking ground you and baby Knox walk on. He would bribe, maim, and kill for y’all. Shit might be tough right now, but life is hard for a lot of folks.

  “If any couple is going to figure it out, it’s going to be you two. If I can’t believe in your love, then what chance does a girl like me have? So burn up that salmon you’re cooking, serve it to him in that pink lace bra and panty set I gave you for your birthday, because he doesn’t give two shits about any stretch marks you might have.”

  “You haven’t seen it lately. My butt jiggles now.”

  “Your ass has always been rounder and cuter than mine, and since delivering the baby it’s even better.”

  “I just really need him to hear me. I need us to talk to each other and not at each other.”

  “Wear that set and he’ll listen to anything you have to say. I promise you.”

  I treasure my friend and her much-needed pep talk. Once we hang up, I finish up my sauce, take a quick shower, and put on the lace bra and panty set.

  While the color of it pops nicely against the color of my skin, when I take a side view glance at myself in the mirror I’m not exactly in love with how I look in it. My breasts are spilling over the top of the lace cups, the waist of the panties are basically hidden under my new tummy pouch, and I feel like I’m trying way too hard by wearing this.

  “What do you think?” I ask Knox as he sits in his caterpillar chair chewing on a teething biscuit. “Is it too much?”

  Knox looks straight at me as he babbles a few words, then laughs. His mouth full of mushy biscuit.

  “I could interpret that in so many ways, peanut.” I smile. “I’ll just pretend that you told me to go for it.”

  7

  ELIZABETH

  I don’t know where Roman’s been the last couple of hours, but I can tell when he steps through the door he’s thoroughly impressed by what he smells. Frankly, I can’t believe I cooked it either. It smells and looks better than anything I’ve ever made before.

  “Is Juliette here?” he questions as he ditches his boots at the front door.

  I exit the kitchen barefoot, dressed only in the pink lace bra, a pair of matching panties, and a white ruffled apron around my waist. I notice a sudden surge of lust in Roman’s eyes, yet he refrains from acknowledging the fact that I’m standing before him half naked.

  “Juliette’s not here,” I tell him. “I cooked the delicious meal you are smelling.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, sir.” I smile brightly.

  “This is a surprise.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Always,” he says in a playful baritone voice.

  I smile at his flirtatious response and turn to get his plate ready when he notices that I’m wearing matching panties underneath the apron.

  “Do you enjoy cooking in your underwear, Duchess?”

  His use of my nickname makes me clench at my core. I turn around and notice the bulge forming at his crotch.

  “I wanted to be comfortable,” I say. “It’s kind of hot today.”

  “Do you need any help in there?”

  “No, everything’s ready.”

  “Okay, I’m going to say hi to Knox first.”

  “Wait, he’s not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s in Penn-Washington with my parents.”

  “Who’s idea was that?”

  He takes a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

  “Mine. I thought it would be good for us to have dinner alone and talk.”

  “Talk.” He repeats the word as if it’s a foreign concept.

  “Yeah, talk.”

  “Come here, Duchess.”

  I approach Roman tentatively, and he pulls me closer in between his legs.

  “In this bra and panties you want to just talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the food still cooking?”

  “No, it’s been ready for about thirty minutes.”

  “All right then, let’s talk.”

  He slides his hands down to my hips.

  “Maybe I should, um, sit down and then we can talk.”

  “Why can’t you stay right here?”

  “You are, um, poking me,” I say while nervously biting my lip.

  “Because you are only wearing your underwear, baby. Of course you feel me.”

  This outfit was a mistake.

  At first I thought I wanted to do the whole sexy siren thing, but you have to possess an enormous amount of confidence to pull that off, even with the man you love, and right now I’m feeling the polar opposite of confident. It feels desperate.

  “I really do just want to talk.”

  He drops his hands.

  “I’m so fucking confused right now.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  I run out of the kitchen and into the first floor bathroom. I put on the robe that is hanging on the back of the door and take a long look at myself in the mirror.

  You tried to put a Band-Aid on a gaping hole tonight, dummy.

  “What just happened, Elizabeth?” Roman asks with concern through the door.

  He probably thinks I’m insane.

  “I’m just tired.”

  “Open the door, baby.”

  I slowly open the door and am met with deeply concerned eyes.

  “Why did you put the robe on?”

  “It was a stupid idea.”

  “What was stupid? To cook me a delicious dinner or to surprise me dressed in something sexy as hell?”

  I wrap the robe tighter around my waist, hugging myself in the process.

  “You wanted to talk, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I hope it was about our wedding. I’d like to marry your pretty ass before our son is old enough to ask us for the car keys, or does that ring on your finger mean nothing to you at all?”

  I gaze lovingly into his eyes.

  “It means everything.”

  “Then set the date.”

  “I wanted to wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For the right time.”

  “The perfect time for us to become man and wife is right the fuck now.”

  “Maybe once I lose a little more weight.”

  “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Your new curves make my dick applaud every time you enter a room. You better not lose another fucking pound, Elizabeth, and I want your wedding dress to hug your hips, ass, and tits properly. I want everyone to see what a prize I’ve won and how I’m the luckiest fucking man on the planet. You’re not my girlfriend or my baby’s mama, Duchess, you are my life and I want to make this legal for the world to see.”

  I’m having a full ugly cry at this point.

  My ob-gyn said that there would be tons of hormonal fluctuations after the pregnancy, I just thought I was past them all. I’ve never cried this much in my life.

  I can tell that my tears are shredding Roman, so he does the only thing he can think to do. He unties my robe, wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me gently onto the bathroom counter. He grabs a wad of toilet tissue and dabs at the tears rolling down my cheeks.

  “Shh,” he tells me. “You know I hate it when you cry.”

  He slides his hand down the side of my face and traces a line down my clavicle and to my breasts. He bends over, gingerly placing a kiss on the tops of each one. He then slides the robe off of my shoulders and unfastens my bra.

  His eyes lustfully dance as he watches my large mounds jostle free from their captivity. A small droplet of milk flows from one of my breasts and he quickly dabs it dry with some tissue and several soft kisses. I close my eyes in rapture as he suckles gently back and forth around each nipple making sure not to suck to greedily.

  Roman pulls me down off the counter and places me back on my feet, permit
ting the robe to fall completely to the floor. He turns me around to face the mirror above the sink and pulls me back into his embrace.

  “Look at us,” he tells me. “There is no more perfect moment than every moment that we’re together.”

  He sucks on two of his fingers then slides the hand down the front of my panties, slipping those two fingers in between my folds on either side of my clit. I lay my head back on his chest and close my eyes because it feels so frackin’ good.

  “Open your eyes, Duchess. Watch as I make you come. Remember who you belong to.”

  I lazily open my eyes and look back into the mirror. The reflection of this gorgeous man and his tatted arm diving farther into my pussy is so hot I can feel myself gushing onto his fingers.

  “So wet,” he says approvingly in my ear.

  He continues his rhythmic stroking of me as he takes his other hand and wraps at the base of my throat.

  “Play with your tits for me, Duchess,” he orders. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

  I’m panting with need as I pluck my nipples.

  I’m getting so close.

  “You ready to come, baby?” He smirks in the mirror.

  “Yes.”

  “How badly do you want me inside of you right now?”

  “Badly.”

  “Then you know what to do.”

  He wants me to beg and at this point I’ll do whatever he wants so that I can come.

  “Please fuck me, Masterson.”

  His eyes look crazed with desire for me. His grip stays steady around my throat as he uses his fingers to pinch my clit with just the right amount of pressure that creates sparks of white lights behind my eyes as I climax.

  “Eyes open!” He orders in the middle of my ecstasy, and I watch myself as I free float from my orgasm into a series of smaller aftershocks.

  He kisses my back for a moment, then slides me to the side to wash his hands.

  “I hope you enjoyed that because there will be no fucking you raw until you set a date, Duchess.”

  Wait, what?

  I’m still speechless as he saunters out of the bathroom like he just proved some point. He shuts the door behind him, and for a moment I think he’s walked away, but then I hear him lean against the door after a heavy exhalation.

  “I think I’m going to go back to work with the guys, Elizabeth.”

  My stomach drops from his unexpected announcement. This is the first time he’s ever mentioned wanting to go back to the club or to the fixes or whatever the hell he’s talking about. I mean, how long has he been considering this?

  I thought making us dinner and connecting on a physical level could help us get back on track, but Roman feels like he is drifting away from me more than ever and I don’t know how to bring him back to shore.

  I briefly clean myself up and open the bathroom door to face him.

  “That’s great,” I reply, lying through my teeth.

  He watches me with a deafening scrutiny as I head back to the kitchen.

  “That’s all you have to say about it?” he asks.

  I wash my hands and lay his lukewarm salmon dinner on the table.

  “What day do you start?”

  8

  ROMAN

  For most of Knox’s life, including when he was in Elizabeth’s belly, I’ve worked from home. The new and improved Roman fields calls from potential high-end clients and if I think they’re a good fit, I pass the jobs on to my partners, the King brothers. Now that their brother Stone is also working full time with us, there’s no need for me to be present at every fix, but after the last few nights at home, I realize that Joseph may be on to something. I may frustrate Elizabeth, because I’m simply frustrated with myself.

  “Yo, look who’s here in the motherfucking house!” Cutter exclaims in his usual over-the-top fashion as I walk into the office of Club Lotus for the first time in months. “What did we do to earn the distinct honor of your presence?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought you might need me.”

  “Need you?” Cutter laughs. “For what exactly?”

  I realize he’s only breaking my balls, but the rhetorical question stings. I know I haven’t been as hands on this past year, but this is still my business. A business that my friends have deeply benefited from.

  Camden stares silently at me, no doubt trying to read my body language. He’s the master of that. He always reads the room and assesses a situation before diving into it with words or action unlike his little brother. Stone doesn’t make any snide remarks either, but walks over to shake my hand.

  “Good to see you, man.”

  “Same.”

  “Seriously, what’s going on?” Cutter asks. “You good? Everything okay with Elizabeth and Knox?”

  “Would I be here if everything wasn’t okay with my family?” I respond, probably a little too defensively.

  “Oh, true dat.” Cutter smiles. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

  “Heard you’ve been to Milo’s club this week.”

  Camden’s comment sounds judgmental as hell.

  “For a drink.”

  “And what magical liquor do they pour at Milo’s that you couldn’t get here?”

  “Nothing but a twelve-year-old single malt whiskey with my name on it.”

  Diving into each other’s private business is not something that we do, so they simply respect my answer and we move onto another topic of conversation.

  “It’s good you’re here. We got that information you wanted on Elizabeth’s friend,” Stone says. “I followed her like you asked, and she’s definitely got a problem over there.”

  Elizabeth explained that the woman she sent a thousand dollars to is an old college friend who needed the money to move because her landlord was harassing her, but later was planning on returning it because the prick wouldn’t accept her thirty-day notice. In fact, he only grew more aggressive after she tried submitting it. So when she asked me if her friend might have any legal recourse against the landlord, I assured her that involving the police wouldn’t be necessary and that I could handle it with a brief conversation. It’s just one less thing I need Duchess to worry about.

  “What’s his deal?” I ask.

  “He’s clean as a whistle. Credit score good. Owns three of the apartments in that community. No record. Not even a parking ticket,” Camden says.

  “No one is that clean.”

  “I will say this,” Stone adds. “He rents most of his apartments to women that fit a very similar description. Young, pretty, short, blonde, and they’re all students.”

  “So he’s creating his own built-in dating service.”

  “The dickhead’s a predator,” Cutter says. “Plain and simple.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “He’s going to have to be dealt with.”

  “What do you mean dealt with?”

  “Elizabeth mentioned her friend is from Oregon, so she’s a long way from home with no family here to speak for her. So I’m going to pay the little prick a visit.”

  “Who are you, Batman?” Cutter asks flippantly. “Now you’re out here defending helpless damsels in distress?”

  “Keep it up, fathead.”

  “I’m just saying, Rome. We pay assholes a visit when we’re getting paid for it. What you’re thinking about doing is something we did when we were seventeen. Kid shit to impress a girl.”

  “Yeah, man, I spent a week’s worth of time and resources tracking that dude for you. I thought there’d be some payoff.”

  I look at Cutter and Stone like they’ve lost their minds. Are they fucking serious right now?

  “This is different and you know it,” I try saying calmly.

  “Because it’s for Elizabeth?” Camden asks incredulously.

  “Fucking right!”

  I stare down every King brother in the room. Each one of them bigger than the next. No one was more happy than me when Camden and Cutter found their brother Stone, but right now
their collective brotherhood asses are getting on my nerves. I ball one of my fists tightly, ready to swing, if one of them says one more thing about this favor or Elizabeth.

  “Look, he’s ready to swing on one of us!”

  “Dayummm, we were just busting your balls,” Cutter says as all three of them bust out into deep belly laughs.

  “Y’all weren’t lying,” Stone says. “I thought he was going to slit our throats.”

  “Can I get you a drink?” Camden asks facetiously. “Because you look like you need it.”

  “Is this a frat house?” I say snidely. “Did I just get hazed by three jackoffs?”

  They continue laughing like I’ve just said the funniest shit ever.

  “Is this what you three do all night in my club?”

  “You mean laugh?” Cutter asks sarcastically.

  “Whatever,” I mutter under my breath, recognizing that they got me good. Things have been so tense lately, I can’t even tell when my oldest friends are messing with me.

  Finally, I crack a smile.

  I guess it was kind of funny.

  “Hey, so we’ve been working on the job Kat gave us,” Camden says, getting serious for the moment.

  “How’s that going?”

  I grab a scoop of M&M’s out of the dish on Cam’s desk and take a seat. It’s starting to feel a little like old times when we would hash out the details of a fix over drinks and junk food.

  “I don’t know, Rome. It’s way messier than she described, and it’s going to take some muscle to clean up. Maybe more than just the three of us.”

  “Well, now there’s the four of us,” I say. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Whitfield is still stuck in Chicago and they have told him not to return home to Miami because he’s their number one person of interest in the case. They’ve got eyes on him twenty-four seven.”

  “That means they’re building a case.”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely a shit show. Accident or not, he killed that girl and left his prints all over the goddamn apartment. They’re probably just dotting their i’s and crossing their t’s at this point. They’re going to make an arrest soon.”