Lawless

by Sam Crescent

  The rain had downgraded to steady, and we were fairly wet by the time we reached my building. He waited near the lobby door, looking out the window as I collected my mail, and then wordlessly fell in behind me when I started up the stairs. This sudden silence, added to the fact that this was Jonathan, and not some interchangeable, indifferent stranger, had me feeling nervous by the time we made it inside my apartment. My stomach fluttered and my heart pounded, even more than when I’d punched the V-card.

  I turned around and found myself caged. Jonathan’s strong, tattoo-covered arms were on either side of my head, his body inches from mine. I gasped and fell back, meeting the wood quickly.

  “Claire,” he rasped, resting his forehead against mine. “You have no idea how many nights I fantasized about this.”

  I tipped my face up to his. “Show me.”

  Jonathan’s kiss was demanding. Normally I wouldn’t let any of my random hook-ups kiss me. I may have been a bit reckless with my personal safety, but I safeguarded my emotions zealously. Kissing was too intimate, and I didn’t confuse sex with intimacy. I used sex for the chemical releases, the endorphins, the physical connection. His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue seeking entrance. My body molded to his as I gave myself over to him until we were both breathless.

  “So much better than the first time,” he said when he finally pulled back.

  “Definitely,” I agreed, laughing. Jonathan had been my first real kiss. It had been sloppy and awkward, and I couldn’t understand at the time what the big fuss was about tongue kissing. “You’ve been practicing, I see,” I teased.

  “That’s not the only thing I’ve gotten better at.”

  “Oh, really? That’s some strong talk there, Johnny-boy.”

  Jonathan grabbed my ass and lifted me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and let him carry me, trusting him to not drop me. I pulled my t-shirt off as we reached the bedroom. He immediately leaned forward and caught my nipple in his teeth through my bra. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as he increased the pressure before breaking off with a growl and depositing me on my bed.

  Now that we’d moved past that first initial hurdle, my nerves disappeared and I was once again comfortable with him. Jonathan had already pulled his shirt off and was removing his pants. I toed my shoes off and rose to my knees, grabbing his cock through the fabric of his boxers.

  This time he was the one to gasp. When I tightened my grip and pulled firmly, his eyes fluttered as he groaned. Oh, yes, maybe … the possibility that he’d like it the same way I did sent a shiver of excitement through me. When Jonathan looked at me next, his expression was intense, eyes fierce and burning with lust. My chest heaved as I gave him a slight nod. He shoved my shoulders, pushing me roughly onto the bed. He followed me, yanking a bra strap down my arm to pull one breast free. With no warning, he twisted my nipple hard between his fingers. I inhaled sharply.

  “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, arching into him.

  The growl that came from him in response sent a rush of heat to my core.

  “Yes what?” The pain spiked as he pulled on my nipple again.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He flipped me over and tugged my pants off, pulling my panties with them. His body covered mine, pushing me into the mattress.

  “Where are they?” he asked, breath hot against my cheek.

  “Top drawer.” I pointed to the nightstand at the left side of the bed.

  He fisted my hair and jerked my head to the side.

  “What’s the word?”

  “Apple.”

  “Stay put.” I felt his teeth dig into my shoulder before his weight lifted.

  I trembled with anticipation listening to him rummage through the drawer of toys and condoms. I hadn’t been to a club in forever, and to have the random luck for Jonathan to share my particular appetites … I was suddenly very happy to have run into him yesterday.

  “Sonofabitch!” The sting of leather striking my ass unexpectedly made me cry out.

  Jonathan chuckled softly behind me. “I like this paddle,” he said before kissing the spot he’d hit. “Up on your knees, woman.”

  I eagerly complied.

  A bottle opened, and then my super-slim vibrator was gently pushed inside my pussy. He turned it on to the lowest setting, and began rubbing both hands over my ass, warming me in preparation.

  “Someone has been a naughty girl since leaving home, hasn’t she?” When I failed to respond, he gave me an open-handed smack. “Answer me.”

  “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. Yes, I’ve been very bad since leaving home, Sir.”

  “I think I’ll have to punish you for that.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  The paddle began to fall in a rhythm, alternating left and right as he worked down towards the vibrator. Once there, he feathered strikes across my pussy, teasing at my clit and tapping the vibrator. Every hit wound me tighter, drove me higher, until I was on the verge of orgasm.

  “Are you close, Claire?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The vibrator disappeared.

  “Take your bra off and get on your back.”

  I let go of the pillows I’d buried my face into—some of his hits on my ass had been quite forceful—and unhooked my bra with shaky hands. Jonathan donned a condom. On his knees between my legs, he lifted me and directed my legs around him. Poised to enter me, he paused.

  “Remember what I said about sweaty and shaky?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now is when you beg.”

  He drove into me with one thrust before I could respond.

  Jonathan’s cock filled my pussy as if he’d been made just for me. He slammed into me again and again, pushing me to the edge before suddenly slowing. Gently rocking his hips for a minute, he teased me, grinning at my groan of frustration. He continued to vary the pace, but it didn’t matter how fast or slow he went, he still was hitting all the right spots with every thrust.

  “Please!” I gasped. “Please, Sir. I can’t.”

  He shifted a hand from my hip to cup my cheek. “Go.”

  I grabbed his forearm with one hand and braced the other against the wall above my head. It didn’t take long for me to begin spiraling. Moans and gasps escaped me.

  “Yes, baby girl. Come for me.” He said it softly, but I still heard it. It wasn’t a command, it was the wish of the teenage boy I used to know, the boy who was finally fucking The One That Got Away. I knew this because I felt the same way.

  I whimpered.

  “Now, Claire.” The Dom voice was back. And so was the vibrator, suddenly pushed hard against my clit. The combination was my undoing. I screamed as I exploded. Distantly I heard Jonathan’s grunt as he came with me.

  I have no idea how long I floated.

  Eventually, I realized that I was in Jonathan’s arms, curled in his lap on my bed with the blanket pulled up around me. He was stroking my hair and placing occasional kisses on my forehead. I lifted my head to look up at him.

  “Hey, there you are.” His smile was warm.

  “What happened? Did I pass out?” I lifted a hand to my head. I didn’t remember hitting the wall, but it was possible.

  “Not exactly.” Amusement lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. It took a moment for me to process what he was implying.

  “Wait, did I just go into subspace?”

  Jonathan cocked his head. “Has that never happened before?” I gave a slight shake of my head. He hugged me close and kissed me softly. “Thank you.”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?” I’d never had an orgasm so intense, and I’d had some pretty extreme sessions at the club. “Hey, wait. There aren’t exactly many clubs in the area. How come I’ve never seen you at one before? Oh, God, do you have a sub already? Did I just—” He pressed a finger over my lips.

  “Hush. None of that. No, I don’t have a regular partner. And I go to a club over the state line when I f
eel the need. Now you need to sleep. Lay down.”

  I blushed. “Sorry. Will you stay?”

  “Of course I’m staying, baby girl.”

  I drifted off to sleep with a stupid smile on my face.

  Chapter Three

  The smell of coffee woke me. Although the sunlight pouring in my windows likely had a hand in that as well, seeing as I hadn’t exactly remembered to close them upon my return home. I stretched carefully and rolled over to see what time it was. Just past noon. Normally I worked ten or twelve hour shifts just about every other night, but I was covering for a friend in a different department and had to be in at eleven that night. Either way, there was no rush to get ready. I pulled on a tank and a pair of shorts and headed for the kitchen.

  Jonathan leaned over the center island, coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He was studying something there intently. Once I entered the room he immediately put the phone down and looked up at me with a huge smile.

  “Afternoon, sleepyhead.”

  “You are way too freaking perky. Coffee. Please,” I added as an afterthought. I rarely woke up full of energy and raring to go. The people who did baffled me. “How long have you been up?”

  “Long enough. I don’t sleep much. But I didn’t want to leave before you woke. I figured that would be soon, so I went ahead and made coffee.”

  “Thanks.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “I don’t do mornings and I’m not going to play sub twenty-four-seven. So just because last night happened, don’t think that’s going to change anything between us.”

  Jonathan laughed hard.

  “I was only going to comment on how grumpy you are when you wake up.”

  I waved a hand in dismissal. “My statement still stands.”

  “Duly noted. Still light and sweet?” he asked as he poured my coffee. A small grin curved my lips despite my attempts to conceal it. “Ahh, so you can smile before caffeine!” The mug slid across the counter to me. “Mind if I take a shower? My stuff was still wet so I threw it in the dryer and it’s not done yet.” It was then that I noticed he wore only his boxers and the watch he’d never removed last night.

  “You’ll smell like vanilla and pomegranate, but knock yourself out.”

  He paused at my side and wrapped an arm around my waist.

  “I’ve certainly smelled of worse things than that.”

  Goosebumps pricked my skin when he nuzzled my neck. I dropped my head back against his chest. His warmth surrounded me as he brought his other arm up across my shoulders, holding me to him. I could feel his cock, erect and firm, pressed against the small of my back. The arm around my waist moved lower, his hand sliding under the leg of my shorts. He hummed his approval when he encountered only skin.

  I exhaled heavily, rolling my hips in time with his ministrations. His fingers splayed across my jaw and I sucked his thumb into my mouth. With a grunt, he spun me on the stool so that my back was against the island and dropped to his knees in front of me. He grabbed my shorts, ripping the thin cotton apart with a firm tug before burying his face between my legs.

  Jonathan went straight for my clit, circling and flicking it with his tongue. I threw my arms out to the side, clutching the edge of the counter for support. His fingers delved deep inside me and he quickly found that magic spot. I fell back as he lifted me until I was lying across the island. He laved at me, working me inside and out.

  “Jon—” I was unable to complete the thought as I came.

  He continued the onslaught, drawing out the orgasm and sending me right back over.

  “Oh, my God, stop,” I gasped as I writhed.

  There was a huge grin on his face when he lifted his head to look at me. Standing, he cupped the back of my neck and pulled me up to a sitting position. I could taste myself in his kiss.

  “That’ll wake you up better than any cup of coffee,” he said before heading off down the hall looking quite proud of himself.

  Once he’d disappeared, my brain started in. What was I doing? What was happening here? What was he going to be expecting from here on out? Did I even want a boyfriend? Or a Dom? Knowing it was useless to stress over this without actually knowing his intentions made no difference. This was why I avoided the morning after bullshit. What the fuck had I been thinking by bringing him home?

  I rummaged through my half-empty fridge and cabinets to see if I could make something more than dry cereal in an attempt to keep myself occupied. As I poured a second cup of coffee I heard him returning.

  In all the craziness of last night I hadn’t fully taken in or appreciated Jonathan’s body. The tattoos on his arms continued across his chest. I saw a skull, women, playing cards, a rose, many beautiful images woven together. I didn’t know if he had any on his legs, because he’d already put his jeans on. My eyes traveled back up, the nurse in me looking for scars, signs of a rough life and the rumored abuse he’d received from his father. If they were there, they were hidden by the tattoos, which would explain why some seemed randomly placed.

  That’s when I saw it.

  “What the fuck, Jonathan?” I dropped my coffee. The mug shattered, showering my legs with ceramic shards and scalding liquid as I grabbed a knife from the block and held it at the ready. I knew I couldn’t outrun him to the bedroom to get to the gun I kept in a case under the bed.

  “‘What the fuck’ what? What the hell, Claire? Put the knife down.” He reached for my arm and I raised it, prepared to strike.

  “That!” I cried, pointing with my free hand. On his wrist, covered until now by his watch, was the same graffiti-style gang tattoo of the men who’d robbed the store the other night.

  “Claire, calm down.”

  “You’re in the South Side Kings!”

  “I told you I was bad news. What did you think that meant? Did you think I lived in that neighborhood for the fuck of it? Some of us didn’t have the option of going to college and getting a nice job. Some of us had debts to repay, things to do to keep people safe.”

  “How many people have you killed?”

  “Seriously?” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed.

  “How many?” I practically screamed it at him. The Kings were notorious for their ruthlessness. They fiercely protected their territory and interests. I’d patched up many a member in the emergency room, while their rivals rarely made it out of ICU—if they didn’t go straight to the morgue.

  “I’ve made decisions that may have cost some people their lives.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Jonathan’s arms flew into the air in exasperation.

  “Because it’s not relevant to the situation. Enforcement is below my pay grade, so to speak. But since you want to know, I’ve only killed one person myself.”

  The way he delivered the information, flat and emotionless, chilled me to my core.

  “You don’t sound the least bit sorry about any of that.”

  “Because I’m not.”

  “Get out,” I whispered.

  “Claire, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Get out. Now.”

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” he grumbled as he stomped to the door. As soon as it closed behind him, I ran over and threw the deadbolt and the chain. My hands shook as I sagged against it and tried to convince myself that I hadn’t seen the hurt in his eyes.

  Chapter Four

  Jonathan emerged from Claire’s building. He spotted the car parked halfway down the block and nodded. Almost instantly, it moved away from the curb and pulled up in front of him. One of his lieutenants jumped out to open the door for him.

  “Have a pleasant night, boss?”

  “Shut up,” he snarled. The man bowed his head and quietly returned to the front seat.

  After a few minutes of riding in stony silence, Jonathan’s second in command, Will, cleared his throat. Jonathan sighed and turned away from the window to look at him.

  “What’s the re
port?”

  “The rent collection went smoothly yesterday, nobody gave us any trouble this month.”

  “Good.”

  “Lowering the rates has significantly improved compliance. And we were able to recoup some of the outstanding balances as well. I have to say, you were right.”

  “I usually am.”

  “Yes, sir. My apologies.” Will inclined his head slightly.

  Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. “Next?”

  “The Irish are up to their usual, testing the boundaries over on 117th Street this time. We’ve had to run off a few dealers this week.”

  “Set up a meeting for me with O’Brien, sooner than later. Either he keeps his people in line or we’ll stop being polite when we ask them to leave.” It might be time to renegotiate the deal with O’Brien. He had no interest in going to war with the Irish. But if they wouldn’t stop trying to push drugs in his territory, he was done being nice.

  “I’ll see to it.”

  “Anything else?” Jonathan asked, rubbing his temple.

  “Mike W has requested a meeting with you in regards to the incident the other night at Pop’s Convenience store.”

  “He’s lucky he’s still breathing. What the fuck does he want?”

  “I don’t know. He claims it’s important, he keeps saying something about a witness.”

  “The clerk said nobody was in the store.”

  “I told him that, but he insists.”

  Jonathan didn’t believe in shitting where you slept, and roughing up the people of the neighborhood for no reason other than to force them to pay for protection from outside gangs seemed pretty shitty. The business owners and residents of their territory no longer paid rents out of fear, but respect. He’d also stopped all sales of hard drugs inside their borders, and would only allow his members to sell marijuana. There was a zero-tolerance policy for breaking any of his rules. The punishment was expulsion. The offending member would be escorted off King territory with only the clothes on their backs and whatever was in their pockets. Needless to say, that didn’t happen much anymore.