Thursday, September 22, 2016

#Free Chapter Reading

A good man falls seven times,
But I’m far from a good man.

I’ve got my own set of rules,
And I never stray from them. 
I live by a simple set of guidelines and they’re easy to follow.

But when Chelsea Robinson walked into my garage,
The rules went out the door.  
Suddenly, I was falling.
No, that’s not right.
It was more like a crash-landing,
Because I sure as hell couldn’t stop myself.
And now, I’m still falling,
For a woman I shouldn’t even want.

But when love steps in, you have no option but to break your own rules.


August 5, 2011

I’m a simple man. I prefer chicken over seafood, horror movies to action ones, and although I’ll never admit this out loud, I’ll drop everything if a family member needs me. Well, maybe not right away if I’m in the middle of getting some pussy. But after I nut, I’m dropping everything!
Like I said: simple. On top of that, I have a job that doesn’t make me want to jump off the Whitestone Bridge, a condo that’s all mine, a sweet ride I rebuilt myself, and pussy on speed dial. Yup, my life is the shit. Especially now, I’m finally finished with this Jaguar.
I slam the hood of the car, sick to death of it. I’ve been working on this vehicle for the last three weeks and only a few hours ago, figured the faulty micro switch was causing the gearbox to select the wrong gears. Finding out what was wrong took longer than solving the damn problem. I’m so glad to be getting rid of this car. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with the machine; that’s my specialty. It’s the owner’s wife who’s a royal pain in my ass.
I fell between her legs a few times and now she’s riding my cock, and not even in a way I like. She’s possessive, staking her claim like I’m some undiscovered land. I was upfront with what I wanted, and she expressed the same, but now she’s calling the shop with imaginary car troubles. Exhaling, I remind myself to ask our receptionist to get someone to pick up the vehicle. We made good money servicing Mr. Browne’s car, but his wife wasn’t worth the headache.
The rag I keep in my back pocket helps with the grease staining my palms. Glancing at hands, my lips tilt at one side with pride at the grime deep underneath my nails.
‘Hands of a hard day’s work,’ Chuck would tell me.
“Right this way, ladies. He should be around here somewhere.”
I curse under my breath at my brother’s voice and the hurried footsteps headed my way. JC’s low, gruff tone is different from his twin’s, EC, whose tone is more of a heavy bass. I tease them both that with voices like theirs, they should bag more women than me, their youngest brother by a year, which they don’t. But, that’s another story for a different time.
“Just a few more steps,” he says.  I spin around at the sound of JC’s voice.
“Here he is,” he says, clearing the corner.
My brother, a blond Rastafarian with thick dreads down to the middle of his back, dwarfs a curly red-head with a bronzed complexion who’s wearing the hell out of a pair of khaki shorts and a yellow silky-looking top. She’s wholesome-looking. The girl-next-door type; with freckles sprinkling over most of her face. I can tell right away, she’s the kind who’ll want to be introduced to the family and expects a ring soon after a fuck. She’s cute but doesn’t hold my interest. Not like the other woman partially hidden behind JC.
The first thing I do is check out those shapely legs of hers. God bless those denim shorts! They give me prime access to the tan from the summer sun she’s obviously been relaxing under. My cock stirs, and it’s almost as if I can taste her skin on my tongue. I move on, and swallow a moan at the sight of her luscious hips. Thank fuck for the flowy, see-through white shirt with the cheetah-print swimsuit top covering her tits. Looking further up, I can’t see her face real good because it’s turned away from me, but I stop when I see it.
The most unattractive feature—her hair color.
Granted, its curls give it an unusual bounce and the braid on one side tells me she’s not some suburban beauty queen. But, I don’t do brunettes. What a waste of a good few seconds of my life. Still, I have to force myself to look away from her and over to JC. I steal another glance at her before giving up when JC walks toward me with one of his hand out at me.
“Brother,” he says all smiles. Whenever he starts out like this, EC and I know the deal: the asshole wants something.
“Jackson Charles.” I snicker at JC’s instant glower. He hates being called by his full name and I hate when I know I’m about to be used, so we’re even-steven in my book. “What do you want?” My question is aimed at him but for the life of me, I can’t stop checking out the woman behind him.
“Ahem.” Regretfully, I look away from her and back to JC and his stupid grin that I read instantly. The fucker’s on to me and knows I’m attracted to the woman near him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to embarrass me, brother,” he says.
“Did it work?” I know damned well he doesn’t shame easily. I keep telling myself to keep my eyes on JC and off the beauty with sun-kissed skin because she’s not my fucking type. But, I can’t help but steal another peek, a long one.
“Is that how you greet your favorite brother?”
He still hasn’t fessed up to the reason he’s here. I’m just about to tell him that I’m tired and that whatever he’s here to beg me to do can wait ‘til tomorrow. But again, she’s distracting me. She’s inspecting the garage and, in doing so, moves from behind JC.
Looking at her profile, with its dips and curves, makes my fingers itch for my sketching pad. That’s when it hits me: I’m not so bothered by her hair color as much. Fuck as much... I’m not bothered at all. She’s curvaceous, and if I had to guess, I’d say she is about a size eight. I can imagine her toned legs wrapped around me as I stroke her smooth calves and palm her tits. Now, those are 36Cs. I don’t need to guess at that shit. When I grab ahold of her succulent ass and press my face in
“Earth to Dyllan. Hello?”
“I was saying, I picked up the girls from the side of—”
Hookers! Probably wanted to get an early start over at Hunt’s Point. I’m not fooled by either the red head or brunette’s innocent features. JC’s hands go up in the air like he can read my thoughts but there’s no erasing what he’s just said.
“It’s not like that. They were having car trouble. Broke down on their way to Orchard Beach.” He looks back at the one in the yellow top who giggles, so I assume he’s done some JC macho shit like wink her way. “I had their car towed here. Told them we’d fix it for them,” he finishes up telling me the sob story.
We wouldn’t be fixing shit, because he knows zilch about the mechanics of cars. I have to give it to my brother; he’s smart and instantly recognizes my ‘I’m not buying your bullshit’ expression. He changes his tune really quickly after that.
“I mean, you. I told them you’d fix it for them.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, that I’ll be wringing later, as if he’s embarrassed to admit that in front of them. The fucker.
I step toward him. I know my brother. He’ll win no humanitarian award, and his knight’s shiny armor has long since rusted from that one incident we never speak about. The way the brunette still hedges close to him tightens my gut with something I haven’t felt in ages: envy. I need to know which one he’s after. ‘Cause if it’s the brunette ...
“Jazzy’s told us so much about your work,” the one in the khaki shorts gushes, grabbing my brother’s hand.
Jazzy? I smirk at my grinning brother who seem like he couldn’t care less that I’m silently questioning this newfound nickname of his. Instead of telling me to fuck off, which I more than expect, he does the strangest thing; ‘Jazzy’ raises her hand up to his lips before giving it a tender peck. Oh brother. I roll my eyes, wanting to hurry this shindig along, even though I’m fucking ecstatic he’s made it clear who he’s gunning for.
JC pulls her closer to him, eyes on her the entire time while throwing out his request. “Dyllan, Emma really needs her car. Can you take a look at it?”
I grunt out my response. Rather than answer his question, I’d like to ask one of my own: the brunette’s name. I shouldn’t even care, and I tell that to myself while my brother and this Emma chick stare at each other as if there aren’t two other people standing inside the garage. My eyes finally connect with the brunette’s. To some, she wouldn’t stop traffic. But to me... there’s no denying that she’s unique. Her oval face, with its high, rounded cheeks, and dark brown eyes. She’s beautiful. And those lips, generous and plump. I like them. A lot.
“Hi,” she says, knocking me back a step with her hesitant smile and one-handed wave.
Her wave reduces me to a mute and all I can do is wave back. Frustrated that I’m tongue-tied like a damn preteen meeting my first crush, I jut out my chin her way, grunting out, “Show me this fucking car.”
Her smile vanishes. “Asshole,” she mutters under her breath, but I hear her, because she didn’t say that shit low enough.
She’s lippy. I can’t decide if I like it or not. Just as I tell myself I don’t care for her tone or what came from her mouth, she glides by me. Her hips swing from one side to the other, tempting me to reach for them. That’s it. She can be as lippy as she fucking wants. Just as long as she’s always walking in front of me.
Still watching her, mesmerized, I untuck my shirt tail, letting it hang over my pants. I can hear the lovebirds follow behind me, whispering and laughing. She’s hypnotizing me... until we get to where the tow guy left the car I’m supposed to fix. What the hell is JC thinking? Parked in the front of Sterling’s Auto Center is a Ford Focus, and it’s seen better days.
I walk around the eyesore. Why he’d bring this piece of shit here? We only work on high-end models, mainly European and Asian brands. What I’m looking at is something Chuck, our father, would’ve taken on when he first started out and was struggling to make a go at it. This damn brother of mine.
I whistle at JC who hurries over to me. “We don’t do cars like this,” I tell him just in case he’s forgotten. He knows this already as the head of our marketing and IT departments but it bears reminding. All I’m left to believe is that the chase of a new woman has obviously blinded him and made him forget a few vital facts.
He puts his hand on my shoulder, commenting, “But, you can work wonders.”
I shrug off his hand being in no mood to be his wingman just so he can look like a hero and get some ass. I circle the monstrosity again. “Pop the hood.”
“Emma, let me get your keys,” he shouts out then uses the key—the fucking shit doesn’t even have a keyfob to open it—and the door creaks like the old rust bucket that it is before he starts the car. As soon as the key hits the ignition, the engine struggles to turn over, and when it finally does, it sounds asthmatic.
Raking my hand through my hair, I slam the hood down. “Turn it off.” This is going to be a long damn fix. When I look back, Emma is wringing her hands while her friend rubs her back, maybe to calm her down. I walk over to the duo, stopping short. “I hate to tell you this, but you need a new engine, and it sounds like there are some other issues. I won’t know until I take a closer look.”
“How much do you think it’ll cost to fix?”
Finally, she speaks. And her voice is soft, like a calming wind with a hint of huskiness that draws me a step closer. I know I should answer, but all I can do is stare at her. Then a door slams, breaking whatever spell she’s cast over me. The swift crunch of gravel crushed by heavy soles pulls my head toward JC, who hands the key to its owner. My tongue loosens up when the brass metal knocks against each other. “Cost? That could be anywhere from seven hundred bucks to—”
“Seven hundred what? American dollars?” the one who’s robbing me of any kind of straight-forward thought screeches out.
“Well...” Rubbing the back of my neck gives me just enough time that I can get my shit together. She’s really pulling some hoodoo/voodoo-kind of mess over me. “Well, more in the ballpark of fifteen hundred dollars.” I shave off a few hundred bucks from the quote. I don’t even know why, but if she asks for more discount, I’ll do that too. The realization I’d give it to her plunks down into the pit of my stomach, leaving me squirmy and wanting to get this over.
“Oh, jeez,” she—the one I still don’t know the name of—stammers. My eyes drink in everything about her: the way the breeze plays with her dark hair and brings some of it into her face, the way her lips curl at the corner, and the slight sheen on her forehead. “Um, I’m not sure. That’s, ah... well, that’s expensive.” She flickers her bewildered gaze at me.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout nothin’. We’ll take care of ya’ll,” JC drawls as if he’s from the south, when the motherfucker was born right here in the Bronx.
“Whoa— ” I can’t even get the rest out before JC cuts me off.
“Hell, we’ll even give you a loaner ‘til my brother fixes your car.”
Now it’s clear he’s long-gone, off his rocker, and I need to get him a bed for a long stay at Gracie Square, one of New York’s private psychiatric hospitals. What the hell is he even talking about?
“Oh, Jazzy, you’re the best.” Emma throws her hands around my brother’s shoulders, pulling him toward her for a kiss.
Not thirty seconds later, I feel her tiny hands and warm body as she hugs the life out of me. “You’ll really give me another car to drive while you fix mine?”
I grunt at the contact but don’t respond. Over her head, determination is in JC’s blue eyes, daring me to go against what he’s just stated. My sight veers to his left, to the woman who looks concerned about my answer. “Sure.” I even going so far to nod at him to tell him he’s won this round. But the real reason I gave in is to see Emma’s friend who’s now wearing a satisfied look.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She runs back over, squealing and throwing her arms around the brunette. “Isn’t Dyllan amazing, Sissy?”
I grin, finally learning her name and it gets broader when I watch her slowly approaching me. She doesn’t press her body against me as some other women would’ve; she stands at a distance but is still close enough that I can smell the fragrance she used this morning on her skin. I want nothing more than to pull her closer, have my fingertips finally feel her skin.
“This’ll make tonight even better.”
“Tonight?” I ask, mind still in a cloud by her nearness.
“You know? The double date we’re all going on.”
The grin’s wiped from my lips.  I don’t fucking date! 

Nook and Kobo links coming as soon as possible.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

$3,000 Big Romance Author Spring Giveaway

Attention all awesome people! This month is a cool time to be a reader. 101 of your favorite authors contributed to one massive giveaway! Giveaway rules are listed on the rafflecopter. International peeps can play! Got any questions? Feel free to ask. There are 100 ways to enter for a maximum possible 500+ entries per person. The giveaway lasts the entire month of April, so come back every day and hammer away at a few more entries until you're all done! ONE PERSON WILL WIN $3,000 USD! That's the biggest giveaway I've seen recently! Tell your buds! Don't miss out. You'll kick yourself if you miss this one.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Must be 18 years of age or older to win. No cash value. Void where prohibited. Open to international & US residents. *The winner will receive an e-gift card via PayPal in the amount of $3000USD for this prize.* Winner must have: 1. an email account, 2. may be requested to fill out additional paperwork for tax purposes, and 3. must have a PayPal account to accept the prize. We are not responsible for fees taken by PayPal for this transaction, nor are we in any way responsible for VAT and/ or taxes. We are not responsible for items damaged or lost in the e-mail. This promotion is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with, Facebook. We hereby release Facebook of any liability. By entering you agree that we are in no way to be held liable for anything pertaining to this giveaway. Winner(s) will be contacted by email 72 hours after the giveaway ends. You must claim your prize within 48 hours or it is forfeited and another winner will be selected. If you have any additional questions - feel free to send us an email!

Big Romance Author $3,000 Spring Giveaway April 1-30th, 2016
H.M. Ward
Kim Golden
Drew Jordan
Christi Caldwell
Scarlett Metal
Chris Almeida & Cecilia Aubrey
Heidi McLaughlin
Jenny Gardiner
Stacey Joy Netzel
Merry Farmer
Mallory Crowe
Julia Kent
Jean Oram
Vella Day
Meli Raine
Sherri Hayes
Jayne Rylon
Sarah M. Cradit
Erica Ridley
Christine Zolendz
Beverly Preston
Marquita Valentine
Melissa Storm
Dana Marton
Amy Bartol
Michelle Fox
Magan Vernon
Ainsley Booth
Venessa Kimball
Sidney Bristol
K.M. Scott
J.M. Miller
Zara Keane
Eliza Knight
L.P. Dover
Sadie Haller
Patricia McLinn
Suzanne Rock
Katherine Lowry Logan
Erin Richards
Tori Scott
Danielle Stewart
P.T. Michelle
Suzan Tisdale
T.M. Franklin
Evelyn Adams
S.E. Hall
Lauren Hawkeye
Josie Bordeaux
Melanie Marchande
Raci Ames
Catherine Gayle
Sam Cheever
J.M Cole
Brooke Blaine
Ella Frank
Allison Bell
Cristin Harber
Jacki Delecki
Tawdra Kandle
Sydney Logan
Laura Kaye
Laura Kamoie
Evie Harper
P.J. Fiala
Taylor Law
Pamela DuMond
D.L. Roan
Jenni Moen
LG Castillo
Rachel Schurig
Nina Levine
Rachel Hanna
Cheryl Bradshaw
Jessica Scott
Beth Yarnall
J.T. Geissinger
Stacey Mosteller
Kylie Gilmore
Maryann Jordan
Cari Quinn
Lauren Royal
Renea Mason
Christine Bell
Felicia Tatum
Fabio Bueno
RaShelle Workman
Nana Malone
Annika Martin
Sophia Knightly
Nikki Lynn Barrett
Marian Tee
Sarah Castille
Allyn Lesley
Ambrielle Kirk
Jami Davenport
Bonnie R. Paulson
Laura Stapleton
Kennedy Layne

Must be 18 years of age or older to win. No cash value. Void where prohibited. Open to international & US residents. *The winner will receive an e-gift card via PayPal in the amount of $3000USD for this prize.* Winner must have: 1. an email account, 2. may be requested to fill out additional paperwork for tax purposes, and 3. must have a PayPal account to accept the prize. We are not responsible for fees taken by PayPal for this transaction, nor are we in any way responsible for VAT and/ or taxes. We are not responsible for items damaged or lost in the e-mail. This promotion is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with, Facebook. We hereby release Facebook of any liability. By entering you agree that we are in no way to be held liable for anything pertaining to this giveaway. Winner(s) will be contacted by email 72 hours after the giveaway ends. You must claim your prize within 48 hours or it is forfeited and another winner will be selected. If you have any additional questions - feel free to send us an email!

Monday, March 28, 2016

FREE - First THREE chapters of Deeper: Descent (Book Two of The Deeper Chronicles)

Mark your calendars because Noah Adams is back.

He’s been a pawn in a game all along...

The King of New York is back. And now, he’s got a Queen on his arm. Just when Noah Adams and Avi Linton are finally settling in to their “happily after ever,” another evil is preparing to make a move. This time, the game just got a little more dangerous and nobody will come out unharmed. Determined to protect her at all costs, Noah puts his life on the line for the only woman who ever mattered to him. But that might not be enough.

When the past begins to threaten their future, Avi and Noah must fight for their present. But can they battle against their enemy without getting deeper into the dangerous abyss?

Pre-order Amazon ❈ iTunes ❈ B&N ❈ Kobo ❈ Google Play



April 1979

Farfallina, I’m leaving. Dammi il mio bacio.”
Felipe Guera waited by the door for a response. When none was heard, he expelled a deep breath. This was getting tiresome. Turning around, he was every bit of the fearsome warrior the enemies of his famiglia labelled him. He walked down the dark hallway toward the woman who tempted him like no other, made him forget his own name, and sometimes even made the oath he’d taken as a teen inconsequential.
The bedroom door he’d just walked through was ajar. He spied her with her head bent and the sheet wrapped around her tempting body. He almost cracked a smile at her angelic image. He could almost hear her mumbled words—is she praying, again?—but he definitely heard the low sobs. He shoved the door open so the knob would hit the wall with an ear-splitting noise to frighten her. When she picked up her head, he almost stumbled back from the innocence in her round face and dark brown eyes.
He sneered. He wanted to wipe out every vestige of that ethereal look that was always present and crush that halo others saw around her head. She was his, damn it. Hadn’t he proved that he could easily take command of her body to do sinful and wicked things? And that she would love them? Her orgasms proved she loved them.
No one would keep him from her: not her God, not her father, no one.
He marched over to her, but she shuffled backward on the bed. He was glad she was fearful of him; it made it more interesting when he broke down her will and put her in her place. She wiped away the evidence of tears from her cheek, but it was too late.
“What did I tell you?” he bellowed, his Italian accent coming out thicker as his anger rolled off him and his tongue. “Eh? Stop with the tears, Nellie.”
Ornella Fareri clutched her throat as her lover stood over her. He was a brute of a man, standing over six feet tall with a thick mustache. His nickname, Il Corvo—or The Crow—fit him well. He was a brawny man with a dominating nose. He was also pitch black all over—from his thick mustache, to his soulless eyes, right down to the color suits he wore. There was just no light in him.
Nell, as she preferred being called, had to think quickly. The man in front of her never gave her a moment’s peace. The things she once enjoyed—praying, going to church, meditating, reading her Bible—were snatched by him the night he changed her entire life. Nell was just a pawn to him, and she knew it, because he never let her forget it. He saw a seductress—whom he’d nicknamed Nellie—when she was really a simple woman who wanted to serve God.
He didn’t believe what he saw, reminding her since the first night that she was a temptress and sorceress. So she played her part, rising to her knees she prayed would stop wobbling. The sheet pooled around her slender body.
His hungry eyes swept over her high, firm breasts with their dusty-rose nipples, down to the flat stomach and slim hips. Instead of heat, coldness curled in Nell’s lower belly. But, she still crooked a finger at him, plastering the ‘come hither’ look he told her she’d worn when she walked by him as he sat outside his social club.
He came to her.
“You wanted your kiss, right?” she asked.
The woman confused him. One minute, she was reciting scriptures like the nun she was on her way to becoming when she first laid her seductive trap for him, and the next, he swore she was like the Delilah she’d once told him about.
“What made this donna so wicked?” he’d asked as they had laid naked in bed one night.
Nellie’s supine position had displayed her body well, and he’d found himself distracted by the natural plateaus and valleys her naked form proudly boasted. She’d dragged a hand through his hair then twirled a few locks around her finger.
“Samson trusted too easily. He told her his strength was because of his uncut hair. That was all Delilah needed. While he slept, she cut his hair for just eleven hundred pieces of silver.” Nellie had pulled on his hair before leveling him with a stare so crazed he believed she could cut him down as well. That was the first instance he’d marred her creamy complexion just to remind his Nellie she was nothing without him. He’d never give her the chance to hurt him.
Nellie leaned her upper body toward him. “Come and get your kiss, il mio Corvo,” she whispered his nickname, which pulled him back to the present.
He wrapped his hands around her, dragging her closer. He grunted at the soft contact of her body on his. “Why were you crying?” He couldn’t help adding, “And don’t lie.”
She played with the sharp lines in his suit jacket, her sight tracking the intricate pattern in the tweed. “I’m just going to miss you. You’ll be gone for a week.” Her small hands wound themselves around his thick neck, pushing up into his dark hair. “I wish you didn’t have to leave Paulo as a guard, and start trusting me.”
He backed away. His dimples sunk deeper into his cheeks the wider he smiled. “You think I don’t see you?”  He came closer to Nellie’s ear. “My almost nun.” His fingers brushed down over her smooth skin before grabbing her jaw, holding her immobile. Nellie’s hands slapped at his forearms while her eyes seemed to pop from their sockets. The more she fought, the harder his grip became. “Leave you alone? So you can escape? I see you, Nellie.”
“It’s Nell,” she mumbled out, tears springing to her eyes as his short nails dug into her flesh.
“Nell died the day I killed her father. Your name is Nellie. My hot piece of ass. Miniera!” He licked the side of her face, snickering when she stiffened.
“Please, don’t.”
At her parted lips, he seized his opportunity, forcing her warm mouth wider and moaning at the silkiness of her tongue. Her wet cheek rubbed against him and made his cock stiff as her fear dripped off her body.
“Nellie,” Felipe growled out then backhanded her.
She flew back on the pillows, but he was on top of her in the next instant. His hand slipped up her neck, squeezing it. He batted away her weak hands as they tried to clutch onto him. He laughed out loud when she pounded her fists on his thick hands. He never stopped, not even when Nellie gasped and her neck reddened with his fingerprints.  
Lowering his head, he whispered, “You’re not getting away from me that easily.” He lessened the pressure of his fingers. One of his hands was at his zipper, pulling out his hardened cock that he jammed into her.
Silent tears coated her cheeks.
Minera,” he grunted, telling her she was his.
“Goodnight, everyone,” she called out, heading toward the main entrance.
“Are you going to come out with us?” someone asked.
Tugging on her gloves, Nell faced her co-worker. “I know you’re all excited that tomorrow will be a new year, but I’m going to spend a quiet night at home.”
“With a face like yours, doll, I know that husband of yours will appreciate that,” a customer yelled out before winking at her.
If he only knew, she thought then opened the diner’s door. She was looking forward to what 1981 would bring because Nell had plans. Plans like taking that permanent trip to Toronto, Canada to eventually buy a place to call her own. But daydreaming of those plans came to a halt when a plume of whitened breath left her lips. She’d arrived in Buffalo, New York close to a year ago, and still wasn’t used to the city’s constant frigid weather.
But it’s good training for Canada, she thought as she walked. A sense of foreboding crept its way over her body that had her glancing over her shoulder. She saw the normal faces who she’d seen on her many late nights, but she still quickened her steps on the pavement toward her rental home. She’d taken every precaution, from cutting her hair to just under her chin, coloring it to blonde, and adopting the last name of Adams—all to outsmart the one man she still had nightmares about, even after all this time. She rushed up the long, winding stairs then pushed her key into the door.
“You’re late.”
Nell coughed as her baby-sitter’s cigarette smoke filled her lungs. No matter how often she’d begged Anitra not to smoke around her child, Nell’s words were brushed aside.
Unwrapping the scarf from her and pulling off her hat, she walked into the small living area. “How was he today?”
The older woman leaned over the arm of her ratty love seat, which made her black hair swing against her brown shoulders. She crushed the butt of her cigarette into a makeshift astray. “I keep telling you that boy of yours is bad as he wanna be.”
Nell flapped her hand in her direction, hoping to quiet the woman. “Anitra, no, he—”
The other woman interrupted her with a firm headshake. “I don’t care what you say. That black-eyed devil of yours is no good. I don’t know how a sweet woman like you ended up—”
Nell’s nostrils flared. “You need to leave.” Every month or so, Nell bought the woman a carton of Marlboros and her son had a babysitter. She had no right to speak about her only child like that. I’ll just bring him with me to the diner tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll understand.
Anitra eased up, huffing out, “Well, don’t you come begging me to take him back, ‘cause I’m not watching him no more.” She breezed by Nell but turned near the door. “Oh, and some man was here lookin’ for you.”
Fear seized Nell, and she stammered out, “Di-did he leave a name?” The woman was sometimes too friendly to strangers, talking up a storm when silence was probably better. If someone was in my apartment...
“I didn’t let that man inside here,” Anitra said, and Nell blew out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I looked through the peephole, and he scared the shit outta me. He said to tell you he’d be back.”
Nell ran to the woman, squeezing on her arms. “What was his name? Did he say his name?”
The other woman flung Nell’s hands from her, scrunching up her features. “He mentioned some bird’s name; hell if I remember. He only told me to deliver his message.” She paused before looking like she drank something spoiled. “Look, I like you and all. But between your kid and now this scary guy, I’m gonna need you to move out. I can’t have no shady shit going on here.” Anitra was quick to leave after that.
Nell locked the door then her body sagged against it. She wished she had some deadbolts to use. On top of having no babysitter, now, she didn’t have place to live. Lord, help me. She leaned her head back on the door as dread seeped through her. She could pack, grab all their things, and run. But to where? She’d been lucky Paulo had taken pity on her and had helped run from Elizabeth, New Jersey, but now there was no one. Just her and her son.
As she bolted toward her tiny bedroom, Nell knew she’d have to move up her timeframe to get to Toronto. She had a few dollars saved to buy the necessary fake documents she’d need to get them across the border...but not enough. It was never enough, because the little she made from tips dwindled into nothingness because she had to buy diapers, pay rent, and whatever else they needed.
“What am I to do?” Nell whimpered out, stuffing a fist into her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out in desperation.
She was barely making ends meet with her waitress job at the diner. She had no transportation, and no legal identification documents out of fear of him. What could she do? Anitra’s words came back to her, and Nell hurried over to pull out her tattered suitcase and began flinging her family’s few belongings into it. A small hand touched her leg, causing Nell to nearly jump out of her skin.
“Oh, my God, you scared me.” Looking down, she was face-to-face with the small reminder of the reason she’d ran the night Il Corvo almost strangled her to death. The toddler at her feet was the only deciding factor when Nell contemplated suicide nightly. Her son forced her to continue fighting to live out the hand she’d been dealt. “Noah, baby, what are you doing?”
He leaned his head to the side, his features so much like his father’s: sharp, black eyes and strong nose. They even shared personalities—strong-willed, persistent, and selfish, though Nell convinced herself the latter, in Noah’s case, was because he loved so deeply. Even though he was only a year old, Nell knew her son was different.
She bent down to his level, getting lost in his dark eyes. “Sei una brava persona. Lo so.” Her Noah was good, no matter that he shared DNA with a devil of a man.
She had such high hopes for her son, and named him Noah because of them. Nell wanted her son to be a savior, just like her Biblical hero who saved his family. She touched his chin. Yes, her son would be a rescuer; he’d do only good thingsshe’d make sure of it.
“We’re leaving here, baby,” she told him and continued packing.
Sometime later, she was sure she had everything. The money she’d pulled out from a loose floorboard would have to take them as far as it could, and then she would start over. Nell pulled up the zipper on Noah’s coat and was just about to put his hat on, when she heard heavy footfalls in the hallway. Then her door was banged on. The hinges rattled, sounding like they were about to fall off.
She smashed a finger to Noah’s lips, grabbing him up, and running back into her small bedroom. She peeked out the window and down at the dark alley below, but they were so high up. She couldn’t take the chance that she and Noah wouldn’t fall to their deaths. What should I do? She didn’t have many options. The doorknob jiggled a few times before silence was all she heard. She made a cross, hoping her God wouldn’t fail her yet again, then threw Noah inside the closet and shielded his small body with hers.
“I’ll keep you safe. No one will ever hurt you, Noah.” Her mother’s promise echoed inside the small hiding place.


Late November 2013

The brisk Monday wind encouraged Katherine Brashier’s feet to hurry along Spring Street. The well put together, perfectly coiffed woman would surprise the people who knew her best. Nowhere was the adolescent who’d been abandoned, or the teenaged heroin addict who’d come from a broken neighborhood. Brash, as she was nicknamed, came from dismal beginnings. Her parents were more concerned with their next score than being providers, and she’d been a byproduct of poverty so entrenched that it stretched generations. With those surroundings, it was as if Fate was against her from birth, and Destiny dictated she’d follow in her parents’ footsteps.
“Watch it,” she yelled at the back of a bear of a man who bumped into her. “Pick your eyes up from the damn cell, you jackass.”
He turned at her words. There was a brief stare-off between the two. Brash wasn’t a pushover. Though he towered over her and could seriously hurt her, she also knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Fuck him, she thought as she carried on about her business. This was the girl those from her neighborhood knew: defensive, quick-tempered, and well, Brash. She blew out a breath to help center her emotions. None of the new people she surrounded herself with these days had ever met the real her. Not even her lover. He’d caught glimpses, like right after she’d fired the killing shot at Detective Manning or when she’d attempted to take out Noah Adams at his club.
She stopped walking, pinching her cheeks and using the moment to school her features from frazzled to serene. She silently reflected on everything she needed to accomplish over her breakfast meeting with Ido.
Put a definite timetable on Noah Adams’ death.
Find out her partner’s angle in their alliance.
She was tired of pussy-footing around both issues, and was becoming fearful that her accomplice would be side-tracked by whatever his reasoning had been that led to their alliance. Her sister’s death demanded swift retribution. Bloody and public was Brash’s plan. She opened the restaurant’s door and was immediately greeted by a host with a smile on his lips.
“Table for two. My reservation is under Aswad.” She and Ido had a standing arrangement, using the time to eat, flirt, strategize, and always ended with them bucking New York’s indecency laws. She grinned as she thought about the perfect place for today’s escapade.
“May I start you off with something to drink while you wait on your server?” the host asked after she sat.
“My usual and this morning’s paper,” she demanded.
Not soon after, she had a copy of the Daily News and a cup of coffee was in front of her. She was just about to share her meal preference when her gaze landed on the headline.
“What in the actual fuck?” she screeched, unable to help herself. Her youth showed itself in her speech most times though she did her best to camouflage it.
“Ar-are you—”
Brash was too dazed to answer the man who stood by her table, flicking her fingers that silently told of her desire to be alone. The caption on the front page shocked her: The Curious Burning of East Meets West. She scanned the article below, and then just as fast, flipped to the next page until she got to last word in the story. There was no mention of Ido. She frowned.
The hookah lounge burned to the ground sometime last night. Unbelievable. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself.
Another woman would’ve had tears in their eyes or began frantically trying to find out what happened, but Brash was a realist. It was one of the reasons she was able to hold her own against the likes of Ido. She knew he was using her. Their relationship, if it could be called that, was mutually beneficial: she wanted to get the man behind Take Over, and he wanted whatever the hell he wanted. She could never figure out Ido’s motives for agreeing to partner with her over two years ago, only that he had the means to get her as close as possible to Noah Adams.
Now that’s shot to hell! With the paper held high, she read the article again, looking for any clues she’d missed on her first read through.
“I’d like a cup of cappuccino,” a gruff voice requested.
She lowered the paper, catching sight of a man in his early sixties sitting opposite her in the place meant for Ido. She glared at him, but all the man did was fold together his strong hands that looked like they’d have no trouble squeezing the life out of her. She didn’t have the patience to deal with some fool hitting on her, and her facial expression stated as much.
When he didn’t take her non-verbal hint to heart, she said, “Fuck off.”
His thick eyebrows lifted to his forehead and he sat taller in the chair. A man stepped forward as if he would pummel her with one of his fists, but the older man stopped him with a raised hand. With a loud sniff, the brute took a step back behind her unwelcomed guest.
“You’re bold for such a young woman. But I expected more, Katherine. Or should I call you Brash?” He nodded his thanks when his hot beverage was delivered.
She was rooted to her seat and tried her best to hide her fear. Her gaze circled the room, looking for help if she needed it, but instead noticed the restaurant was deserted with the exception of the waiter and two people in front of her. Only someone of importance pull off something like that.
“Wh-who are you?”
He cracked his neck then chuckled deep within his throat. “Did you enjoy your morning reading?” He picked up a spoon, spinning it around the cup before licking off the froth from his hot beverage. “It’s sad about Ido’s business.”
Brash grunted, choosing to keep quiet and learn as much as she could about the mysterious man.
“I see no mention of a body. Do you?” he inquired before raising the cup to his lips. His charcoal-black eyes lit up as he regarded her defensive posture. “You’re right not to trust me, but you’ll be happy to know I’ve decided to help you.”
“You’ve decided...” she sputtered, stopping when he leaned forward.  
“You need a new sponsor.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She had to get Ido on the phone. Maybe he can—
“Ido Aswad is dead.” He sat back nonchalantly, boring into her as if calculating her worth and usefulness.
The paper fluttered from her lifeless fingers onto the table. She dug in her bag for her cigarette—damn the city’s law about smoking indoors— pulling one out then lighting it. She inhaled deeply.
“Here’s how this will work. I tell you what to do, what to say, who to meet, and you get to live.”
She exhaled smoke into the air.
“Just nod your head.” Behind him, the other man eased his jacket back, revealing a shiny gun near his hip.
So typical for a man. But she wasn’t a coward, and the proof was her going after the man nicknamed the King of New York. “Listen, I don’t know you. And no one tells me what to do.” Brash flipped her hair over her slim shoulder. “You can count me out, mister.” The perfect smoky O’s finally reached his face, reminding her of the time she’d blown smoke into the face of a now dead detective.
She’d been so close to exacting her vengeance, missing the perfect shot outside Club Envy by inches. If she could believe this man, Ido was dead, which meant she was fucked! Her dead sister would get no justice now.
“It’s a cold world out here. You need an ally.” He pointed to his wide chest. “I can be that person.”
He probably wanted to screw her brains out, and then he’d screw her over. No way. She was done with men with accents who couldn’t deliver. She’d find another way to get—
He grabbed her wrist, using it to pull her almost over the table. He didn’t seem to care that her body rattled the utensils or the stemware on the table. “I know you’ve been scheming to get to Noah Adams. Ido wasn’t the man who could deliver him to you, but I can.” He squeezed harder, sending a pulsing sensation between Brash’s thighs.
She licked her lips then grinned just a little, pulling the man’s sight onto the curve of her lips. When his gaze drifted down, she internally celebrated her victory before asking, “Why didn’t you just say so?” She mewled low in her throat then rubbed against the callouses she felt in his palm while he tapped the side of her face.  


Noah tugged on the coarse rope a little harder than necessary, wanting this ordeal over and fucking done. The animal brayed in protest, disturbing the quiet that radiated in the night. Looking back, Noah noted the donkey was like him—they both didn’t want to be here. The proof was that neither animal nor man had any intention of slowing their pace. They trekked up the hilly terrain in silence. The crunching of gravel was the only sound heard in the late night as the six men climbed higher.
“This is bullshit,” Noah muttered to himself. And all because he didn’t want to piss in his pants—something men in the military were known to do to hasten the end of their patrols and to avoid capture by enemies. His high handedness, or maybe it was stupidity, placed him and his men right in the center of imminent danger. Some fucking way to spend his twenty-third birthday.
Behind him, Noah picked up on bits and pieces of his captors’ conversation. Being in Afghanistan for close to fifteen months, he was fortunate that picking up the different regional tongues came easily to him. That and his lip reading skill had helped him and his men out of many sticky situations during foot patrols. The one in charge, who’d first pushed his homemade gun in Noah’s face earlier, was the loudest, and kept quieting his two partners who wanted to give up on their quest.
Despite the cold wind blowing, Noah’s anger blazed, warming him from the inside out. He heard a stumble behind him, like someone falling to their knees right before a low grunt of pain.
“Damn it,” Cass yelled.
Turning around, Noah saw that the Afghani men were on top of his friend in seconds. Noah had to rely on the stingy light the moon shone to see the damage to his friend’s face.
“To your feet!”
Cass was clocked in the mouth by the butt of one of the men’s gun. When he staggered up from his knees to stand, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
“Yo!” Ro pushed against the man nearest him, attempting to help his comrade.
“I tripped, you asshole,” Cass said.
The other men spoke in quick, guttural Farsi to each other. Suspicion straightened the men’s postures near Cass and Ro, each swarming in closer around Noah’s friends.
At the raised guns to his friends’ chest, Noah rushed out, “Wait. Wait.” They all spoke at once, neither understanding the other, adding more confusion.
“We don’t need them. Just the black-eyed one.”
Noah wasn’t sure what the latter part of the statement meant, but he had to act fast. His gut told him Cass and Ro were soon to meet their Maker. Noah jumped in front of his friends, raising his hand in submission. “Kill them, and you have to kill me.” The other men looked at each other. “Your donkey won’t cross the border.” The blank glaze over their beady eyes reminded Noah of the language barrier and the men’s cold-blooded nature. He searched his memory for the right word. “Kill him, and no heroin. Nothing,” he said in their language. Fuck them. They wouldn’t get shit from him if Cass or Ro didn’t continue on with them.
The men huffed, eventually lowering their drawn weapons. Noah breathed out in relief. He didn’t want to show fear, but he was nervous. Much like the time, five years back, when Harry had caught him with a bag full of shit that could’ve cost him ten years of his freedom. Cass had an eleven-year old niece and wife waiting for him stateside, and Ro had a fiancĂ©e. Noah couldn’t let his men...his friends die just because he hadn’t wanted to smell like a piss pot.
“Move,” the man who sounded to be in command said.
They shoved the rope at him again before chucking Ro and Cass on the opposite side of the animal. As Noah led the illegal caravan, it struck him as ironic that he’d traveled thousands of miles to leave behind the life of a small-time drug dealer, and yet here he was doing the exact thing again. A foreign feeling clutched his heart, making him stumble and miss a step. Noah thought of the man who was probably snoozing in his La-Z-Boy chair in Brooklyn with the belief that everything was going well.
“You’re different. I know it,” Harry had told him on more than one occasion.
To come all this way, and to be right back at fucking square one was a cold dose of reality for Noah. It was like the universe was reminding Noah who and what he was. Harry couldn’t save him, and the U.S. armed forces couldn’t do anything to erase Noah’s start in life. He’d been stupid to believe Harry, and realized the nightmare that haunted him from his early days in Buffalo was true: there was no good in him.
Noah jumped up from his sleep with a start, sweat beading on his forehead and his heart galloping away.
“Shit,” he muttered. His hand immediately reached out to his left, and when his fingers grazed her soft arm, he allowed himself to relax. Breathe. The dream felt so real, almost like he was right back on that dark night in December 2002 and climbing that fucking hill.
He turned from Avi and picked up his cell phone, noting it was nearing two in the morning. Even after a week later, he still felt the twinge from his final run-in with Ido. I should kill the fucker for shooting me. He chuckled low at the thought. The bed shifted, forcing him to end enjoyment about the pleasure of the man’s demise. No need to wake Avi when she had to go to work in another seven hours. In the two days since she’d been back in his life, he refused to let her out of his bed despite his banged up ribcage. His dick never got enough of her, and surprisingly, she was nice to have around his condo.
He took a deep breath. He was all right. Ro and Cass were alive and well. They’d all made it out of that hellish situation, and everything would be just fine. Lowering his head back on the pillow, he gathered Avi in his arms, disregarding her low grumblings. Now I can sleep. Noah’s eyelids closed, hoping for a dreamless night.
At first, she thought she was hearing things. But then she heard it again: a low squeal that sounded close to a trapped, wounded animal. Avi’s eyes fluttered open. I should’ve never watched that darn horror movie without Noah. She vowed that was the last time and she’d wait on him just as he’d instructed her. When quiet was all Avi heard, she sought sleep again.
Avi’s eyes popped open. What the heck? Noah’s muscles tensed under her splayed hand. She was just about to shake him awake when she was pitched off him. She flailed backward, biting down on her tongue as she clipped her head on the top of the wooden portion of the bed. Noah’s upper body lurched upright.
“Fuck,” he roared.
She swallowed the blood pooling on the back of her tongue then took her time opening then closing her mouth. This was her third night in Noah’s bed, and there were a few things she’d learned about him: he slept in the nude, kept ‘vampire hours’ as she’d come to tease him, and preferred sleeping in a thick cloud of darkness. Since their reunion on Friday morning in his office, they’d both tuned out the world, but she’d come to learn that wasn’t an easy feat for Noah. He got up early and came to bed late. Somewhere in between those hours, he’d steal lengthy time to eat with her, take a shower, or help her cook...well, she cooked, and he just got in her way. Without fail, every time Noah branded her as his, he made her body rise to each passionate height he took her. Even girlish giggles around him became her new normal. It’d been magical for Avi, and though there were no lifelong commitment statements expressed, Avi was confident about her future with him.
“Noah.” Swathed in the dark, she could only make out the curvature in his pale back and that his head was cradled in one of his large hands. She used her hand to reach him, but it was like the man was thousand miles from her on his California king bed. When she heard rustling, Avi turned to her side of the bed and flipped the switch on the lamp. She repeated his name because Avi wasn’t sure he heard her. He was so still that it frightened her. Then, she heard his laboring breaths.
“Hey.” Avi’s voice was as soft as the sheets caressing her skin.
He grunted but still didn’t turn. Concerned, she drew closer. Noah leaned toward the lamp on his side, and now the room was bathed in a soft glow. The light sheen of perspiration glistening his skin shimmered under the bulb’s illumination.
What in the—
“Go back to bed.”
Noah’s strained tone sounded tired and hollow. Her body twitched in response. Her first night here, when he’d gotten up pretty much like now, he’d joked it off and told her he’d been dealing with some business issues. But then it had happened again the following night. Now, she was concerned. Though new and still unnamed, she was very protective of whatever she and Noah had going on. She’d made a choice to run a week ago, but Avi had retired her running shoes and refused to cower from the hard things any longer.
“It’s the third night of these...” She paused. Another thing she’d learned about Noah was that he wasn’t a man who showed weakness. Even though bolstered by her place in his bed and now his life, she had to remind herself this was still Noah Adams, so she chose her words with care. “It’s now three episodes,” she said gently. “Do you want to talk?” I’m getting worried. Avi knew better than to share those concerns.
“It’s nothing.”
Although he wasn’t looking at her, Avi still shook her head. “It’s not nothing.” Noah was either lying to himself—and most likely lying to her which didn’t sit well with her—or maybe these were really nothing to worry about. He almost had her second-guessing her suspicions until he trembled. “Noah, this isn’t nothing.”
He blew out a breath.
“I’m getting worried,” she said, taking a chance with sharing her feelings. She scooted closer to him, but he stood abruptly. Avi sucked in a low gasp and pretended his move didn’t sting her pride. “If we’re going to do this, then we’ll have to—”
“Fuck,” he offered.
She heard the slight chuckle in his voice. It was the same tactic he’d used for two nights, and it had worked then, because Noah knew Avi’s weakness for his brand of lovemaking. But she wasn’t about to give in...not this time. “Noah, we have to do more than that. How about talking to me about whatever is going on?” Her head lifted, and she waited.
Then, he turned toward her. She didn’t think she’d ever stop admiring the rippling muscles that bunched then flexed at his every move. Warmth spread from her lower stomach down to the place between her thighs as her sight settled on his navel and the smattering of fine hair that surrounded it. If I look lower, I’m in trouble. So her gaze travelled upward, flickering over the low stubble covering his defined jaw. Avi couldn’t help rubbing her legs together recalling how the bristles had scraped against her skin in a delicious way, and was another reminder that she was here and his. Noah flashed her a smile as if he could read her thoughts and knew her body’s reaction to his. But, her sensual haze fizzled when she saw the forced smile that accompanied his trademark dimples. It was then she really took in his appearance: the redness in his eyes and the slight puffiness under the lids.
“What the heck’s going on with you? And don’t try that nothing line.” She leaned back on her pillow, folding her arms over her chest.
Avi’s question was simple enough. But Noah’s answer was probably nothing she wished to hear, and definitely not one he wanted to talk about. How could he tell Avi about the shit swirling around him that was robbing him of his sleep long after he’d gotten a dip in her addictive pussy?
Noah dragged his hand through his dark locks and inhaled deeply. The closer he got to his thirty-fourth birthday, the more the shit storm brewed. Without fail, every birthday, since he’d left Afghanistan in the middle of 2003, was pretty much the same. In the last two years, he’d coped the best he could— mostly him, a couple glasses of whiskey sour, and sleeplessness. Before that time, he’d call Harry. Unlike his daughter, Harry had never tugged on him for answers. He’d simply listen to Noah’s heavy breathing for hours on end, saying a few encouraging words here and there, until Noah had indicated he was all right enough to end the call.
But there was no more Harry.
“Noah...” Her voice pulled him outside his head and onto her determined face.
This was the reason he didn’t do the whole sleeping over and girlfriend shit. He didn’t like answering to anyone, especially about shit he hadn’t processed no matter how long it’d been. When she shifted under the weight of his scrutiny, he remembered this was her...this was Avi. He wanted her here. He needed her here. Now, he needed to give her just enough so she’d back off.
He opened his lips, but she cut him off with, “Try the truth, Noah, or I’m leaving.”
Noah smirked, approaching her side of the bed. That was a bullshit bluff. She wasn’t going anywhere, but the closer he got to the bed, he saw the concern in her darting gaze that couldn’t seem to decide where to focus and her tapping fingers that moved with haste over her forearm.
“I just had a dream, Avi,” he told her. Walking around the bed, he silently asked her to move over, which she did. “I told you it’s nothing.” His body sank into the mattress, just like he hoped the month of December, when it came, would sink into oblivion.
Her pursed lips told him that Avi wouldn’t let this go.
“Three nights.” Tendrils of hair fell over her face when she shook her head. “Three nights in a row is not ‘nothing,’” she said, air quoting then dropping her arms to the sides.
Without even knowing it, she got his mind off the dream when her breasts jiggled. He zoomed in on the large, circular darkness around her puckered nipples that he saw through her light pink nightgown.
“Noah, eyes on my face. We’re talking.”
He licked his lips. You’re talking, but I’m done. This new thing between them was only three days old, but he definitely liked having her around; she didn’t ask questions about his business affairs and made his condo feel like a home with her presence. Plus, fucking her was becoming a favorite habit he had no intention of giving up. She lightly slapped his arm, coming closer to him and her scent almost had his tongue wagging out of his mouth. That was the kind of pull Avi had on him, over him...and he didn’t have it in him to question it any longer.
“It’s your fault you’re so sexy.” Noah twisted his body toward hers, trapping Avi’s hands at her sides. His nose found its place near her neck, first inhaling then licking the spot. “You want to help me?” he asked between the small kisses he showered on her silky skin. He felt Avi’s nod. “Then help me.” One of his hands left hers, making its way down her slender form and over the healthy curve of her hip. He flipped the frilly edge of her nightgown up. “Give me a taste of this.” Noah’s hand cupped her pussy. That’d put me to sleep with none of these nightmares chasing me.
Avi’s warm body leaned into his chest. Through the thin material, the soft underside of one of her plump breasts grazed his naked arm and his cock hardened.
“Noah...” she pleaded, but he heard the low moan she tried to hide when his fingers brushed her clit.
“Do you want me to beg?” Her nails dug into his flesh when he snuck two fingers inside her. Avi’s body arched upward just as he withdrew his fingers from her. Going in again, he felt her slickness, but when he heard that wet, gushy sound, he growled. “I don’t want to talk. I want this.” He was dying for a taste of her.
Her eyes never left his lips, following the way his tongue slurped her essence from his fingers. Avi’s violet eyes darkened with passion. He heard her quickening breath and felt her shiver.
“You going to give up the goods or what?” he asked, pushing her back on the bed and covering her softness with his body. Avi’s hands grasped his waist, grinding into his cock. Noah felt her body’s slippery desire on his cock with every move.  
Peeking up at him, she inquired, “When do you ask for what’s yours?” Her hands drifted up to his jaw, trailing over his low facial hair then threading her fingers through his hair.
“Thought I’d have to steal it like I’ve been doing,” he said, kissing his spot...the sensitive area near her left ear with the mole. Even though it’d been the weekend, he still had businesses to run. Last night, he’d only meant to be in his office for an hour, but there were deals that required his attention. By the time he’d been finished, Avi had already watched a movie without him and was snoring lightly. That was pretty much how it’d been since Friday morning when they’d both arrived at the condo, though he did try to carve out some time just for them.
The sheet rustled with their movements. She parted her legs even more. “Noe—”
That was all it took for Noah to slide into his home. Her tight walls enveloped him with a welcoming grip as the tip of his cock kissed her g-spot. “Fuck.” A man could get use to this. She pulled him in farther, and intelligent thinking took a back seat.
Avi groaned out.
He got real close to her face, putting the bulk of his weight on his forearms then Noah gazed at her features, noting how even her small imperfections were perfect to him. Their lips met at the same time, both of their tongues swirling around each other’s. Her mouth was as captivating as the rest of her. Wanting to savor the feel of her gripping him, Noah took his time exploring Avi. But, her hands cupped his ass, dragging him into her body, and she bent her knees, pulling him deeper.
“Avi...” Noah tried to warn her.
“You said to help.” She caressed the sides of his face and met each of his urgent thrusts.
He was drowning inside her. Sweat poured off him as his lower body went in and out of the woman he’d never let go of. He could feel his balls tightening up, and knew he couldn’t hold off anymore. “Come with me,” he gritted out just as her eyes closed and her succulent pussy walls clenched again. “That’s it.” Noah held onto her leg, swiveling his pelvis to the side, hitting a newly discovered sweet spot for the both of them.
“Noe!” she screamed.
He heard her toes crinkling the sheets and felt her legs stiffen. “That’s it. Give me what’s mine.” She felt so damn good. Avi’s body gushed again just as Noah reached for her clit and rubbed against the aroused bud furiously. “You came twice without me. The last time, Avi, we do it together.” He wasn’t sure she heard him until she nodded. Her hair was matted to parts of her head. “Ready?” He aimed for her g-spot, jutting the tip of his cock at it.
She screeched out something he didn’t pay attention to and then pulled his mouth toward hers. Her trembling body told Noah she was near again.
“You help so good,” he breathed out on her lips. With one last pelvis thrust, he spilled inside her. He waited for a split second before he got off Avi and tucked her into his side. They were both panting, having a hard time catching their breaths. The feel of her sweaty skin brought a smile to Noah’s face and his eyes closed to the sounds of her snores.
Sometime later, he was awakened by another dream. This time, the message was clear: they were coming.

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