by V Vee
I was painfully aroused. My breasts begged for attention, but at the moment, Andrew’s attention was solely focused on my soaked pussy. He released a growl, covering my pussy with his mouth. My body arched off the wall as his tongue spread my labia and connected with my clitoris. My eyes rolled into the back of my head when his tongue teased my clit. He sucked it deep within his mouth, and I thrust my pelvis toward his face. He expertly flicked my small nub with his tongue, and my moans filled the air. I spread my legs wider to allow him to feast on me even more. My breaths were coming faster, and I rocked my hips toward his face. I gripped his hair, riding his tongue, crying out, my body trembling. Andrew ran his tongue along the entire length of my pussy, gathering my juices along the way toward my clit.
He definitely knew how to bring me to the point where I just wanted to scream for him to make me climax. His hands pushed my legs wide, and his tongue trailed along my ass then back to my core. The man was taking his sweet precious time while I wanted to cum right then. His finger glided through the evidence of my desire and slid deep within my core.
“Andrew!” I cried out as he sucked on my swollen flesh. He thrust a second finger deep inside me to join the first one, stretching me. My entire body shook, my orgasm approaching. I needed something to hold on to. I reached over my head and gripped the outdoor wall lamp, bracing myself for the impending orgasm. A deep growl echoed around the yard and I wasn’t sure if it came from me or Andrew. He continued to thrust his fingers deep within me and latched on to my clit. The walls of my pussy tightened around his fingers as he pushed them deeper inside me. A scream tore from my lips, and the waves of my orgasm crashed into me, sending me into blissful darkness.
I absolutely have to stop passing out just because this man gives me an orgasm.
I stepped out of the massive glass-walled shower, with its four showerheads, one of which was a Delta Hydro Rain Showerhead™. I had never felt so clean in my life. And after all the filthy, dirty, naughty things I’d been up to in the last forty-eight hours with Andrew, and the even nastier things I’d been thinking about? A shower that could make all of me feel clean was desperately needed.
I grabbed the towel Andrew had left for me on the towel warmer and started to dry myself, leaving the shower cap he’d produced for me with a wink and a smile, on my head. Bending over to dry my ankles and feet, I sensed the presence of another person behind me, and knew without turning around that it was not Andrew. I didn’t get a warm sensation. I didn’t feel lust racing through my veins. No. The person who was staring at me in that moment made my skin crawl. So, moving quickly, I grabbed the 9MM that was taped to the bottom of the vanity sink, turned, fell onto my ass, and fired. The howl that left the unknown man’s mouth made me smile.
Shot him in the thigh? Damn. My aim must be off.
I heard footsteps running towards the bathroom and I pulled on the huge, fluffy, white, terrycloth robe that was hanging on the wall. I crossed my arms, blocking out the sounds of the man whimpering and bleeding on Andrew’s floor, his profanity nothing but white noise. At last, Andrew ran into the room followed by three men: Ronan, Ludwig—a tall, hulking, multiracial, handsome man I’d met upon entering the house—and Dermot, who was just as big and handsome as Ronan, Ludwig, and Andrew, but covered with more tattoos, with a long beard, and blond hair.
All four men had their guns out and I wanted to laugh at the fierce expressions on their faces, but I was a little too pissed off at the idiot who thought he had the right to watch me when I got out of the shower.
Andrew stepped over the stranger and walked right up to me, gathering me into his arms. He placed a kiss on my temple and heat swept through me. No one, outside of my grandmother, Michele, and my parents—long dead—had ever been so concerned about my safety. It made me feel… something. I wasn’t entirely sure if I liked it or not. I just knew that I sank into Andrew’s embrace and chuckled when his hands ran over my body, checking for injuries.
“Baby, are you okay?” he asked me, his eyes wandering over me.
I nodded my head then gestured at the redheaded man on the floor whom I was pretty sure was dying as we all stood around talking. I couldn’t say I exactly felt bad about that. Bastard.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “He’s not though. I think he may be dying, Andrew.”
Andrew looked over his shoulder and grunted. Setting me away from him gently he walked over and crouched down in front of the man who’d stopped whimpering and was now looking up at him with true fear in his eyes. I’m sure that if he weren’t already pressed against the wood of the doorframe, he would have been scooting backwards. Too bad he’d gone as far as he could. There was also the blood loss. I’d really never actually seen the blood drain from someone’s face before. When I killed someone or maimed them, I usually did what I had to do and walked away. To stand there and watch the effects of my handiwork was… thrilling.
Hmm… I might be a bit of a psychopath.
I mentally shrugged. In my business one had to be just a little bit crazy in order to do what needed to be done and I’d already seen a bit of that crazy in Andrew, though I knew it was only a small measure of what he fully possessed. I was almost certain that the “psycho” ran deep inside him.
But probably not as deep as it ran inside of me.
“Hello, little cousin,” Andrew said, his voice a low growl. “I see you’ve met my woman. My future wife, Kyra.”
His future what now? Oh, Mr. Irishman and I needed to talk when this was all over.
“Y-yeah,” Andrew’s cousin stammered.
Andrew hummed. “So, here’s where I’m confused, Seamus.” He tapped his lips with one finger. “How is that possible, exactly? Because you didn’t come in through the front door. I would have been alerted. You didn’t ask me if you could come over, because again, I would have been alerted. You didn’t call, text, email… as a matter of fact, you just showed the fuck up at my house without a word.” He held up a hand when Seamus started to talk. “Eh, eh, eh. No, no. This is not sharing time. This is not a conversation or a dialogue. This is me working shit out, aloud, about you showing the fuck up in my home. In my bedroom. With my fucking woman as she’s getting out of the goddamn shower!” He roared that last bit and even though I’d known Andrew was angry, I jumped slightly at the volume and sound of that rage.
Andrew wrapped his hands around Seamus’s neck and lifted him up. I watched as blood dripped down onto the floor from the bullet wound I’d given him in his thigh. Andrew threw his cousin to Ronan and Dermot. I was expecting them to drag the man out of the room, but instead they held him up. I watched with interest, my head tilting to the side as Andrew turned and began to disrobe. He pulled off his suit jacket, his diamond cufflinks, then his button-down and gave them to Ludwig—who took the items and stepped back, his deeply tanned face devoid of emotion—before raking his fingers through his hair. He stepped over to me and placed a deep kiss on my lips.
“I’m sorry for my cousin’s behavior, Baby,” he murmured softly.
I reached up and caressed his cheek. “It’s okay. We can’t be held responsible for our family all the time.”
Andrew nodded, placed a gentle kiss on my forehead—and dear god why did that make my pussy wet? —and with a swiftness I wasn’t expecting, turned and threw a punch to his cousin’s stomach. I winced at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Andrew stepped back as his cousin started to gag. Dermot and Ronan refused to let him crumple forward, instead holding him upright and I watched as Seamus’s throat moved rapidly as he tried not to vomit. Andrew strode back up to him and gripped Seamus’s hair in his hand, yanking it back.
“I fucking dare you to throw up,” he hissed. “You’ve already got blood on my woman’s floor. You fucking bled in front of her after looking at her body? If you weren’t my cousin, I would slice your throat open and watch you bleed out. But Uncle Lennon wouldn’t be pleased with me. So the next time you talk to your father, you thank him for your life. Got me, bitch?”
And without waiting for Seamus to answer, Andrew rained down punches and blows to Seamus’s body. The man’s broad, but pale body began to turn color as Andrew unleashed his fury, and the blood from his new injuries joined the pool that had been there before. When Andrew was done… and his cousin was nothing but a massive lump of bruises, injuries, and blood… he stepped over to the sink, washed his hands, and got redressed.
He stepped back over to me and pulled me into his arms, before placing a kiss on my temple.
“Dear cousin, I would suggest you forget everything you saw here today.” He inclined his head at the bullet wound in his thigh. “And for god’s sakes, go get that bullet wound checked out. You’re injured.”
He jerked his head at Ronan and Dermot, who both turned and without another word dragged Seamus out of the room. Ludwig stepped over to Andrew and spoke to him softly, before walking out. I pointed at the dark-haired man as he strode from the room.
“What’s with him?”
Andrew frowned. “Who?”
I rolled my eyes at the note of jealousy in his voice. “Ludwig. He barely talks.”
Andrew nodded and gave me a small smile. “He’s been through a lot. His father served under mine, and his family’s been through some shit. He doesn’t talk unless he has to, but he’s one of my best.”
I nodded, then sighed when I heard my phone ringing. I knew who it was without even checking.
“Who the hell is calling you at six at night?” Andrew asked as he followed me into the bedroom.
“My boss.” Or the man who thought he was my boss, Manuel Santiago.
Manuel was a short man with a small pouch of a stomach. Something that let me know he was either going to be fat or had once been overweight. And really, that didn’t concern me. I’d been with my share of “big” guys and they could all put it down in the bedroom, but there was just something about Manuel…
Bitch made me nervous as fuck, and that was saying something.
Before Andrew I’d never been truly anxious about anything. But while Andrew filled me with a sort of excited anxiety, Manuel made me want to wear a burlap sack, a burkha, and roll around in pig shit before I came into work, just so he’d keep his eyes off me. It wasn’t just the way he looked at me, it was the way he hovered over me. Always touching my shoulder, always just a little too close. I’d been certain he was gay until he started to do all of that. He’d never really shown any interest in any of the women at the office and from what I was told he didn’t have a wife, fiancé, or girlfriend. But he seemed to have quite the hard-on for me.
“Tell your boss you’re with your man and he can talk to you at work, tomorrow,” Andrew demanded.
I rolled my eyes. “We’re in the middle of a big project, Andrew. They stayed at the office to work on it, but I sort of didn’t return after my lunch break… remember?” I turned to look at him, lifting my eyebrows. Andrew smirked, his already broad chest expanding with male pride. I sighed with a fond exasperation and shook my head. “He’s probably just looking for some files or something.”
“Hello?” I answered the phone, turning my back to Andrew who was licking his lips and running his hand down his chest towards his erection, tenting the front of his slacks.
This boy.
“Kyra? Are you busy?” Manuel’s voice came over the line and I swallowed the laughter that wanted to fall from my lips when Andrew started to play “Pony” © by Ginuwine.
“Um… no. Not really. How may I help you, Mr. Santiago?”
“Well, I was trying to find the specs for the nU Even™ line? For the new commercial? But I can’t seem to find them in my office.”
I let out a soft groan and palmed my forehead. I was thankful that Andrew turned off the music and settled on the bed in front of me, as if he sensed the seriousness of my phone call. I had the files for the curvy, BBW, and “mismatched” clothing line at my home. I’d been taken with the very concept of nU Even™ when I heard about it. A clothing line that catered to women who didn’t perfectly match industry standard sizes. For women who had tits and ass, women who had tits, stomach, and ass, women who had tits but no ass, women who had ass but no tits, women who had no tits, no ass, but a stomach, and everything in between, the clothing line made lingerie, swimwear, formal, sexy, evening, casual, business, and sport. I was committed to helping them succeed.
Which was why I’d taken the fucking files home with me days ago.
“I… um… have them at my house, Mr. Santiago. I can bring them into the office tomorrow?” I suggested.
Manuel sighed. “No. That won’t work. We’re having a late-night cram meeting, which you would know, or even be at, had you returned from lunch,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Mr. Santiago, as I explained—”
“Yes, yes, I know. You had an unexpected family emergency. I just find that so strange, since you told me at your interview that the only family you had, your grandmother, had died almost a year ago today.”
I balled up my fist as anger surged through me. Who the fuck did this little prick think he was? Did he think he was talking to one of those simpering little girls at the office? I was not the one. And bringing up my grandma? He was asking for me to put two to his head.
“Mr. Santiago—” I began with a warning tone. Andrew’s face pulled down into a frown and he rose from the bed. I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be snatching my phone from my hand and threatening Manuel for upsetting me.
“No matter. I will meet you at your home in say… twenty minutes? There’s no need for you to come to the office, with your family emergency and all. I will just grab the files from you and see you back at work, bright and early, in the morning.”
I swallowed back my retort. I may run and own shit, but I had been taught well by my grandmother. As a black woman in America I had to be extremely circumspect and meticulous, almost strategic, about when and where I showed my power. Showing it too early or in the wrong place could result in a war the likes of which my city, my state, and hell, the entire country had never seen before.
Showing it too late could result in me being put into a dangerous position.
I wasn’t entirely sure where I was in regard to Manuel, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that no matter how much I loved the idea of working on the nU Even™ campaign, I was going to be leaving the company soon. Either I was leaving, or Manuel was going to die. And really, hadn’t I done enough killing in one week?
“I will meet you there, Mr. Santiago.” I hung up before he could say anything else and gave Andrew an apologetic smile. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes, no longer than forty-five.”
He narrowed his eyes and me then gave me a small nod. “Any longer than forty-five minutes and I’m coming to get you.”
I leaned down to place a kiss on his lips.
“I know you will.”
Chapter Eight
Andrew- The Irishman
Fifty.
It had been fifty minutes since Kyra left my house—our home—and with nothing but a nod at Ronan, Dermot, and Ludwig, I strode out the front door and climbed into the black SUV that was waiting for us. I didn’t speak, merely checked my weapons, making sure they were ready for me, and settled back in my seat, prepared to kill whomever I had to once I got to the house.
We pulled up outside and I glared at the sight of the town car which had been driven from my home to Kyra’s old one, by a member of the “family” I thought I could trust. I also saw a black Lexus™ sitting in the driveway. As I climbed from inside the vehicle, I nodded to Ronan and gestured to Niall who had driven Kyra over. Ronan didn’t need me to say another word. I walked up to the front door, the soft sound of a pop reaching my ears. No matter what anyone said, silencers didn’t mean you heard nothing, it just meant the sound was soft.
I grunted at the loss of one of my own. I knew I should feel bad about Niall being killed, but really, why the fuck was he sitting in the car when my woman was inside with
a man we didn’t know?
Dumb fuck.
I didn’t need people like that in my organization. Not around me. Not around Kyra. And not around my family, present and future. Good riddance to bad rubbish and all of that.
As I got closer to the front door, I heard something that made me grit my teeth and rage soar through me.
“Manuel, no. I’ve told you, I’m in a committed relationship and even if I weren’t, I’m not interested. Stop. Please don’t make me have to hurt you,” Kyra’s voice was filled with frustration, but not a trace of fear. Which was good.
For him.
I inhaled deeply and tried to calm the beast roaring within me. I was still going to kill the little fuck, but at least I wouldn’t have to torture him. That was the only positive I could take away from this. He was pressing his advances on my woman and apparently didn’t understand the word “no.”
Maybe just a little bit of torture.
I raised my hand and knocked on the front door. Hard. I knew Kyra would know it was me, and I expected her to open the wood barrier with a look of exasperation on her face that I’d waited exactly fifty minutes before heading over. But she wasn’t the one I was staring at when the door swung open.
Did this motherfucker really just open my woman’s door like he lives here?
Before I even blinked or registered what I was doing, my hands had flown up and wrapped around the little prick’s neck. I heard Kyra calling my name, but I ignored her. This would be the second man I’d killed at her former home that day. Shit. Maybe I should get her some flowers or something? Or maybe a new gun? When the fucker I was choking tapped my hand, I narrowed my eyes at him.
Definitely a new gun.
