by D. M. Burns
Leaning back, I watch as my dick slides in and out of her with every powerful thrust. I’m etching out my social security number along with traces of DNA for identification purposes should she get lost, mine.
“Oh my God. Your dick feels so good, Slade. It’s an invading beast of the best kind.” Len’s voice is a low hum but sounds mystified as she spies our connection. It turns her on too. “That’s fucking hot.” Her legs tighten around my waist and she circles her pussy down on my dick making my eyeballs want to roll back in my head.
“Shit.” I grind out. “Is this my pussy, Lena?”
“You know it is.” She whimpers out.
“Say it.” I grit out.
“It’s your pussy, Slade. Only yours.” Her voice sounds possessed. It’s fucking sexy. “Is this my dick? ONLY mine.” She asks.
I grip her hands in mine and brace them against the wall above her head holding them in place with one of my oversized claws. Reaching around me, I punch the button on the wall panel that turns on the waterfall above our heads producing a rainforest shower like effect around us. Then I lean back into her grinding a slow torturous rhythm that has her panting.
“You god damn right it is.” I grate out.
My thrusts continue to hollow out her insides customizing her to me. When my mouth latches onto her tit she moans my name. I scrap my teeth over to her other neglected nipple giving it equal amounts of attention all the while steadily picking up the pace with my groin lunges.
“My pussy playground,” I growl.
Standing to my full height my rhythm increases as I stare at Len’s perfect pussy watching my dick stroke in and out of her. Her body is soaking wet and the smacking sounds from our sex slaps are creating a sexual high unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s because of her.
Those familiar tingles at the base of my spine come to life signaling that my balls are about to explode, fuck. I drop my hold on her hands to grip her hip and hook her other leg with my forearm allowing me to pick up speed. She grazes her fingernails over my abs, and I grunt out at the contact.
“I’m going to cum, Slade.” Her voice is a shout of surprise.
When her pussy locks down on my dick it milks the orgasm straight out of my nut sack. I crush our bodies against the wall behind us and slam home one last time. I can’t help it. My cum coats her insides on the roar of her name as it leaves my lungs. She brings out the yeti beast in me.
“Jesus Christ, Lena…” I whisper in her neck right before I brace my forearms on either side of her face and push back.
My groin is slowly trying to dig deeper into her heat. Involuntary movement, sliding in and out between her legs. That business bastards downstairs wants to take up residency in her vagina village. Her eyes are closed, and those swollen lips are a blood red. It’s a fucking beautiful sight.
“Baby,” I repeat while brushing my thumb over her cheek. Those icy blue eyes pop open and her tired smile is welcomed.
“Yeah?” She breaths out.
“Is this really mine.” I dig my rebounding half-erect dick deeper into her and she bites down on her lower lip while nodding.
“If I heard you correctly, it’s your pussy playground, right?” She repeats my words while blushing.
“Damn straight, Miss. Carter.” I chuckle. “I’m making sure you meant it because there’s no going back, baby. Post sex talk confirmation is needed.” I circle my hips causing her to groan.
“Slade, much like everything me, it’s yours.” She whispers. Damn, this woman has no idea.
“Good because I meant what I said. You own that billionaire business bastard downstairs.”
If I were completely honest with her, I’d tell her that she owned the heart of this man long ago too. But I’m not ready to admit that just yet. Her smile spans out across her face then she giggles while wrapping me up in her arms tugging me back into her. I back us up off the wall and when she tries to unlatch herself out from around me, I grunt out in protest gripping her tighter.
Sitting us down on the lounging bench in my massive shower, I hold this woman to me cupping the back of her head like a damn child. Feeling the water droplets bounce off every inch of my skin, I silently chant off a promise to tell her everything else soon. We both have a lot of secrets to share.
chapter 23 - lena
Rolling on my side, I open one eye and peer up at the soundless ceiling fan overhead. It’s going on three weeks now that I’ve been held up at Ramp’s top floor penthouse paradise. Ever since the explosion I’ve been here night and day. Things have been intense. Especially after the experts confirmed that Rage and Reese’s house along with the pool house were both set to blow. The arson investigator still has no idea why the pool house didn’t spark up right alongside the main house. He said there was enough C4 to reconstruct the entire block.
I’d like to think that God’s divine intervention was shining down on us. Paint me fucking ecstatic to because blowing up into tiny bits is not my fantasy departure. Rampage and the rest of the Chaos crew have been tight-lipped and extremely moody, rightfully so. Exploding structures can do that to people.
Ramp refuses to let me out of his sight. He’s been hoovering to the point that even I’m worried what it all means. I’m not stupid though. I know things are shifting. You can feel the conspiracy in the air from their own evil doings at work.
Flipping onto my back, I let out a whoosh of air. I can smell him everywhere. Hell, I can still feel his presence between my legs from earlier tonight. Extending my arm out, I swipe his side of the bed but come up short. Twisting my head to the side, I spy his pillow and find it empty. That’s weird because I sense him.
“Over here, pretty girl.” His voice rumbles out through the shadows and my eyes go in search of him.
He’s sitting in his black leather boss daddy chair that’s in the far corner of the room. It’s his favorite chair. I’ve woke to find him reading a few times as well as watching me sleep. Clutching the satin sheets to my chest, I sit up while rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Focusing in, he looks relaxed, but I know better. If that were the case, he’d be fast asleep beside me.
When my eyes adjust, they slip over every dip and ridge of his eight pack abs then lower to the black boxers covering his massive meat package. Lingering on the glass dangling from his hand and the dark liquid swirling around in it. He brings the glass to his thick lips and tilts it back but never takes his eyes off me.
“You can’t sleep?” I whisper.
“After this, I plan to join you.” He churns the glass around.
“Are you drunk?” I ask. He simply smirks and slowly shakes his head no.
“Tell me something, pretty girl.” He gives me a chin lift and I nod for him to go ahead. “Why interior design?” He asks. Oh, shit… I should just tell him. Now’s the perfect opportunity Lena.
“Uhm, well… You get to take something that everyone else has written off as useless and unattractive, recreate it, and breathe life back into it. Turning it into something spectacular for everyone to appreciate again. That concept to me is beautiful.” I shrug. “Why do you ask?”
“I figured that one day I’d turn on the TV and find out you had become a hard as nails, investigative news reporter. Someone who goes around busting the bubbles surrounding shady secrets or some shit. I saw you as the type that would dive into something that gets the adrenaline pumping, that’s all. I don’t know.” He rests his head back on the chair contemplating. “I just never saw you as an interior designer. Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s respectable and damn good money. It just doesn’t match your personality.” He props his head against his index finger and stares at me. Does he know?
“Your forgetting that I surrounded myself with the casino craze for years. Believe me when I tell you that environment balanced out my stellar job profession selection.” I say. He chuckles at me but continues to spear me with those silver eye bullets.
“You didn’t disappoint me at all.” I smile. “I always knew
you’d be successful. I mean, your love for money was apparent.” His eyes cast down to his drink for a moment then come back to mine. It’s like he’s not proud of who he is. “Looks like you outdone yourself as far as the goals for wealth go, yeah?”
“Something like that.” He smirks. “You damn sure haven’t disappointed me.”
“I’m proud of you, Slade,” I say. He shakes his head from side to side then rubs his hand over his jaw.
“Listen…” He turns his drink up killing the contents then places the glass on the side table. “There’s some stuff I need to talk to you about.” Oh, shit.
“That doesn’t sound promising. Anytime a conversation starts with we need to talk or there’s something you need to know, it’s a shit situation on the rise.” I smile but it’s fake. Is he going to tell me he wants to explore other campsite locations with his yeti dick?
Rampage stands and stalks across the room until he’s climbing onto the bed like a panther on the prowl and my back hits the mattress. He pulls the sheet back out of his way exposing my naked body. Those gunmetal eyes take the time to appreciate my curves. His low rumbled words don’t register as any English I’ve ever heard. So, I don’t bother to respond.
Ramp lowers his head and licks a talented path between my tits that elicits a soft moan of his name from my lips. Arching my back into him, I rake my nails over his scalp feeling the light brush of his well-manicured hair under my fingertips. His eyes look up at me and the smirk on his face is devious. Jesus, there’s an instant drool pool happening between my legs. I can’t help it. The man is pure sexual satisfaction guaranteed.
When he slides his sculpted skin across mine, he doesn’t stop until were eye level. He wedges himself between my legs while encasing both sides of my face in with his forearms. I can smell the expensive brandy on his lips mixed with his spicy aftershave scent. His powerful body is so damn distracting, but it has nothing on the intensity of his eyes right now.
“You want to talk, right?” I lightly trail my nails over the outline of his defined shoulders.
“Not really, baby…” He rotates his hips and I bite down on my lower lip to keep from letting out a whore-moan as his cotton-covered yeti digs into my throbbing pussy playground. “But yeah. There are things you need to know. Things that I need to tell you.” He brushes his lips softly across mine. “That explosion that happened at Rage and Reese’s house is on me.” My brows scrunch together at his omission of guilt and my hands stop their exploration over his cut-up back.
“Uhm, I don’t understand.” I push back into the pillow trying to gain a little viewing space. “How do you mean?”
“Baby, my business dealings are not one hundred percent legitimate.” He says.
“Yeah, okay. That’s common knowledge, Slade. It might not be talked about, a taboo subject matter so to speak, but everyone knows that Aces Down is a glorified casino.” I smirk
He shakes his head and chuckles with zero humor behind it. For the first time since I’ve known Slade, I see a crack in his armor. He’s hesitant and if I’m not mistaken, I see a fair amount of fear in his eyes.
“Shit, I wished that were it, but Aces is probably my most legitimate business to date. Other than my Wallstreet investments. For the most part, those are legit too.” My eyes go wide at that statement.
“You’re scaring me, Slade.” It’s the truth. I’ve never seen him like this.
“Shit, Len… That’s not my intention.” He brushes his nose across mine but that doesn’t quell the chill that’s settling into my bones. “I’ve been a part of the mafia’s underground crew for a long damn time, baby. That shit back at Rage’s was because I pissed someone off.” He rubs his hand across his face and takes a deep breath through his nose.
My mind is putting the puzzle pieces together at a warped speed. From the moment I got the call in Las Vegas, to my reassignment in Georgia, none of that made sense until now. That’s why my senior director at the FBI reached out to me months ago shifting this case my way.
Yes, that’s right. I’m FBI and I’m also the best at going in undetected and leaving the same way. Slade was right; I like the thrill of crazed Chaos thumping vigorously throughout my veins. This man in my arms is evidence of that.
Before you think less of me, I am an interior design genius and badass curator too. What can I say? I’ve had almost twenty-six years’ worth of dickless nights to focus on my education. In other words, I’m a connoisseur of many different hats.
Director Wallace knew I wanted the hell out of Las Vegas. I even put in a notice a month prior to their reassignment for me. I had been kicking around the idea of focusing my time on nothing other than interior design. So, when the need arose for a special agent here in the ATL, my stomping grounds, I was the one Wallace called.
You remember what I said, right? Not everything is as it seems. But I was only supposed to find out information on the notorious but faceless New York Kingpin, Kemp Krugger, nothing more. Best case scenario, I supply my FBI cohorts with a picture of the mob ghost himself. If Director Wallace thinks that I’ll have any part to play in hurting Slade or his family he’s sorely mistaken.
“Say something, baby.”
Holy shit. I stare at this man in front of me in bewilderment. I knew he catered to the criminal crowd. It’s not uncommon for casinos to roll out the red carpet for those guys. Hell, it’s just smart business to do so. But I had no idea that Slade was a part of their organization though.
All the case files I’ve gone through as well as the research I’ve done never once eluded to his involvement, ever. What the hell was he thinking of getting himself in with the likes of those men? I wonder if my director is aware of Slade’s role.
There’s no way he’s a cleaner or muscle guy. Not my Slade. The only one ticking off the key traits on my serial killer checklist with a permanent marker in hand is Slade’s little brother, Rebel. That guy’s brain would make slicing and dicing a work of art, slaughterhouse showcase style. Reb has some sinister scary mannerisms. It reminds me of a recent case study done on the lunatic we refer to as The Demon of Deliverance. Honestly, though, I’m not convinced that the guy’s an evil adversary. I tend to believe the opposite; a violent vigilante-maybe.
“Do you hurt people?” My voice is raspy.
“I won’t lie to you, pretty girl. I have in the past but only you and I know that now. But those that I dealt with were not good men. My dealings have never been personal, and I never entertain an audience.” He brushes the side of my face with his knuckles then continues, “That’s not my strong suit though. I’m a numbers guy. Some even call me nothing more than a glorified accountant.” He smirks.
The urge to beg and plead for him to get out is clawing at my windpipe like thousands of tiny little demons wresting to break free at once. I want to scream at him to wash his hands of that life, but I can’t. I have no right. Only I know firsthand how the dealings with the mob cartel and dirty underbelly can turn out. It’s chilling. A blood bath of death.
“So, you’re like their bookie?” I ask.
“And their four-leaf clover of investments.” He winks at me.
My heart squeezes in my chest when my mind flips over all the graphic photographs of death that have been laid out in front of me before. The numerous cold case files unsolved… That could be him one day. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes and I try to turn my head away to hide it, but Ramp holds me in place.
“Shhh, baby. I promise that I’m shifting things.” He touches his forehead to mine and whispers softly across my lips, “I never had a reason to want out before, Len.”
“What does that mean?”
“Now, I have you, yeah?” He leans back and studies me. I nod my head and tell him the truth.
“I have to go.” Whatever is going on seems to be circling around me. It’s my turn to rescue him.
chapter 24 – lena
age 15 - monroe High School
Hitting the staircase, I mope down the flight
of steps and touchdown on the hardwood floor, destination kitchen. My need for orange juice is real. When my eyes broke the nighttime seal this morning, I wasn’t shocked to find my sunny room void of a Rampage.
It’s not that I expected Ramp to be here making breakfast or some shit, no. I’m not delusional. In my mind, I knew that last night was a fluke but tell that to my heart that clearly has no concept for self-preservation. That organ is a damn idiot, period.
Rounding the corner, I see my mom sitting at the counter with her coffee and book in hand. She looks up as I amble over to the frig and fish the OJ out. I grab a glass out of the cabinet, pour me some then return the container and slide into the seat beside her.
“You okay, honey?” She asks while rubbing my back and I nod.
“Yeah. I’m just tired.” I say.
Taking a peek at her book, I see it's about learning how to cope with loss. That makes my stomach hollow out. I’ve never stopped to think that my mom might be struggling the same as me. It’s probably even worse for her because my dad was her soulmate.
“How are you doing?” I look up to her and she smiles sadly.
“One day at a time, baby. That’s all that can be expected.” She closes her book and turns to me fully.
“How’d you know dad was your person in this world, mom?” This is probably not the time or subject matter to question her about but I’m curious. Her face blushes a little and she looks down at her hands then back up to me.
“Your father was my first everything. That man just got me and what I mean by that is he understood me better than I understood myself. Your dad knew what I needed before I did. He constantly went out of his way to make sure I was taken care of before his needs were even a factor to him. His number one requirement was me and my happiness. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any better, I had you. Your dad’s love only multiplied. That’s rare, Lena. The way he loved us ruined me for any other. No one will ever compare to your father, ever.”
