NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 20
I’m free. This is a process.
Amirah’s hand falls onto my upper thigh, and I grind my teeth. It lands on the still healing wound where Solange sliced open my skin with a knife when I wouldn’t tell her she was the best I’ve had out of all three sisters.
A male voice suddenly comes into earshot, chatting away about something before Amirah’s mouth falls off me.
Her head snaps to the direction of the door as she quietly listens, and I pull her face upward to meet mine.
“What’s up now?” I ground out.
“That’s my dad,” she quickly replies, her eyes wide like she’s about to get caught in the men’s room.
Actually…she is going to get caught in the men’s bathroom.
A slow grin forms off my face, and Amirah must not like the look of it because she begins to shake her head again.
“C’mon, Rus,” I urge. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done something like this in a public place nor when your parents were nearby.”
“I—“ The swinging of the bathroom door stops her, and she flinches back. Attempting to stand, I release her face and shove her back down by her shoulder.
“Open up,” I whisper. “The quicker you’re done, then you can go back.”
“I’m not going to sign that,” her father snaps then. “It still needs revisions.”
I guide my cock back to her mouth, the tip grazing her lips, and she must give up trying to argue with me because they open, taking me in a second time.
“Then we’ll meet with him,” Congressman John Van Doren states, his shoes clicking against the hard tiles. “I’m not in agreement and haven’t been since they’ve tried to push the damn thing.”
The stall door next to us opens and closes purposefully with irritation. Amirah stills at his proximity, and I pump once to remind her of what I said.
“I have to go, Bill. I’m having dinner with my kids.”
I purposely hit the back of her throat, and she gags around me. My immediate groan escapes freely from my lips, and I continue pumping inside her because she’s not going to do this her way.
She’s going to do it mine.
And now that daddy is right next to us, it makes it feel so much better.
“Email it to me then,” he says before the rustling of his pants begins to commence. “I’ll take a look at it in the morning.”
Amirah’s tongue glides underneath the stretch of my hardness, and I lace my fingers possessively through her hair.
“Fuck.”
She sucks harder and needier. Not in the sense I’d like her to suck me off, but it does the damn job.
Giving her a little tug, her greens snap up to mine, and the whole view of her only makes my balls clench.
Absolutely fucking stunning.
In any other scenario, I would enjoy this twenty times more than I am now.
Another grunt resonates off my chest, and I’m fucking panting at this point when I hear her father seize out, “Again, tomorrow.”
“Just like that baby,” I urge underneath my breath, and her old man may be able to hear me now over the soft music playing above us through the speakers, but I obviously don’t give a shit.
She takes a mouthful, and my fingers clench the top of the stall wall between the congressman and I, making it shake at how quickly I grab it.
Fuck him being here. I’m relishing in the fact that I’m not losing my entire shit right now. The kicker is I’m doing it with his precious daughter.
“Are you alright over there, son?” That coming from the man himself as he literally stops pissing to ask me that question. I didn’t hear him hang up the phone, too busy with his Amirah’s plush flesh shrouded over my length.
“Doing just fine,” I smugly quip back as Amirah’s hand finds my thigh again and squeezes in a warning.
I have to suppress a chuckle.
Baby girl doesn’t want her daddy to know that she can get down and dirty when she needs things to go her way.
They won’t.
However, I can’t say that I won’t give her an A for effort.
The congressman goes back to finishing his piss, and my left hand slides down the side of Amirah’s face and underneath her jaw again. Her focus lands back up to me, and I smile.
“You’re really good at taking this cock on demand, aren’t you, Rus?” And the moment her nickname leaves my throat—she should be happy I didn’t call her by her real name—I kick the side of her foot to slide underneath the stall so that her father will see the white heel that belongs to her.
He might not pick up the clue, could be disgusted at the obvious happenings going on right next to him, but I’d be a complete dumbass if I didn’t try it.
Amirah retracts it back to the safety of our stall, and she throws a punch into the side of my, thankfully, good leg, clearly pissed at my sly move.
It’s genius really, no other way to call it.
The toilet next to us flushes, and the congressman quickly unlocks his door. I expect him to bang on mine, but I hear the water from the sink turn on before he’s out seconds later, not even bothering to dry his hands.
Amirah attempts to release me from her lips, but I hold steady to her face and shake my head when I meet her raging stare.
“I haven’t finished yet,” I deadpan. “And he’s probably going to go looking for you.”
Her nostrils flare as I do the work for her, thrusting in and out at a slow and torturing pace. This isn’t even an ounce of how upset she’s going to be by the end of the week.
“Wrap those lips harder,” I order softly. “I’m almost done.”
She follows my command and meets me with each plunge and caress over her tongue.
Her ass is next.
This woman is mine until I throw her either in jail for the rest of her life or just to watch her bleed out beautifully in front of me.
I like the latter instead. I wouldn’t want anyone else to have her after me.
My balls tighten, and my stomach flutters as my orgasm builds swiftly within me.
God, I’d love to hear her moan around me, but I’m not as stupid as to know she would want to, obviously.
So I go for the next best thing, her gagging around it.
I take her sweet mouth deeper to the hilt of how much she can take. Her eyes water, and tears hit the top of her cheeks as I fuck every single ounce of control she ever had on me out.
It won’t extinguish everything, but it will for tonight.
Tonight, I win.
Right now, she’s underneath me with my thick cock in her mouth as I demand my release from her. The thought makes me explode between her lips, and I force her to swallow everything that I’ve saved just for her.
Because I won’t be doing this with Odette and Solange. The thought of them touching me again makes me physically sick.
Amirah jerks her head away from me, and I allow her space to collect herself.
Tucking myself in and away, she rises from the toilet and tries to move past me. Shame instantly covers her face and underneath the small amount of makeup she has on, but I don’t let her pass.
Instead, I lean forward and prop my hands on the top of each wall between us.
“I’ll give you a B plus,” I decide. “We’ll have to try for an A next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” she leers through her teeth.
I perk a brow. “Won’t there? I remember foreshadowing that I wanted your mouth and your ass, Rus. I won’t stop until I get both.”
“Fuck you.”
She makes this too easy because a mindlessly smirk lines my face before her hand comes up to slap it right clean off.
I catch it, squeezing her wrist and twisting it so that it sends a small twinge of pain for what she just tried to do to me.
“You don’t touch me unless I tell you to,” I stress before slamming her hand into the hard wall.
She winces but doesn’t cry out. I want to say more but decide against it. Talking usually isn’t hard for me, but I don’t want to get roped into my feelings either.
Instead, I release her and move to the side, giving her the exit, so she desperately wants. She moves forward, but my arm shoots out to stop her.
I guess I’m not done yet.
“Odette is first,” I warn her. “Then Solange. But actually…I think I’ll teach your mother some American manners to pass along to the rest of you. I believe that’d be more fitting.”
Her body shakes either in fury or fear, but either way, I let her go. Dropping my arm before she wastes zero time whipping the door open and scurrying out on her heels.
Me, I sit on the toilet and breath through what the hell I just did and how I was able to accomplish it.
Baby steps.
Tiny baby steps.
My face won’t stop burning red with humiliation, in utter embarrassment of what I had just done.
It’s so bad that I can’t go back to my table without the paranoia of Dad looking down at my shoes to see if they’re white. At what he freaking did on purpose to make that whole ordeal of sucking him off more humiliating.
I’ve been gone from our table way too long. And I can pull an excuse out of my ass without a problem, but I can’t stride to that table with white heels on.
So…being me, I trade off my Gucci shoes.
My beloved Gucci.
The first pair I’ve ever bought by myself with money that I earned. It was a present for all the hard work I had been doing in school and busting my butt as a waitress. Those shoes and I bonded over sore muscles and sleepless nights.
They were special.
The meaning is one-of-a-kind for me.
Gone.
The woman’s eyes that I approached, beautiful saucers of blues, sparkled in awe when I asked her if she wouldn’t mind swapping. She looked over to her husband-boyfriend to detect if I was drunk.
Unfortunately, I’m not.
So when we switched, I quickly put on her black wedges, a little bigger than my size, but the strap around it worked. Black goes with everything, right? So I’m not completely a hot mess here on the outside.
Inside, I’m a disaster.
And my brain won’t shut off.
Finally getting to my table, I smile and immediately grab my martini, take a large, quick sip before setting it down. I can feel my father’s eyes on me, and I purposely cross my legs so that my new wedges stick out from underneath the table.
He looks.
Of course, he does because I’ve been gone for over twenty minutes.
“You good?” Laurent asks me. “I ordered you another drink.”
“Yeah.” I release a forced and heavy sigh before rolling my eyes. “I got a call from Bailey, so I took it outside. She got into another fight with her boyfriend.”
“I didn’t know she was dating someone.”
She’s not.
I wave my hand dismissively in the air. “On and off type thing. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“Not a problem,” Dad replies, sounding a little relieved. “Do you guys want dessert? There’s a special tonight.” I fight to wrinkle my nose because I've already had some depending on who you ask.
“Up to Amirah,” Laurent fills in, setting down his brandy. “But there are a few things we needed to go over with you too, Dad. Some really important shit.”
No clue why but Dad’s focus lands on me first.
Geezus I really am paranoid as shit.
“What’s wrong?” The wrinkles along his eyes and forehead protrude in apprehension. “Everything alright at school? Do you need money or—”
“Yeah, everything is great, Dad.” I offer him the best smile I can. “It’s not about me…it’s Mom.”
Dad shrugs. “What about her?”
“She did something pretty bad,” Laurent says, taking the reins for me.
God, I love my brother.
Seriously, I do because I can’t do this after what I’ve done and what I just did five minutes ago next to my dad.
Laurent glances around the table, careful in his following words. I’m not sure if this is the most appropriate place to have this conversation, but we aren’t able to get around each other much with our busy schedules.
“She kidnapped a dude.”
Dad’s brows clash together. “She did what now?”
Laurent steals a glance at me before continuing. “This man...he has the same rare blood type as you do. She was using him as a human blood bag so that you could get your transfusions.”
Besides the muttered conversation surrounding us from the other guests dining near us, our table falls deathly silent.
“They kept him in the basement,” I emit. “He was—“
“Who’s they,” he speaks abruptly, steering his dark steely blue eyes to me. They are almost as intimidating as Mills’s, but Dad doesn’t look like he wants to strangle me right now.
“Mom, Odette and Solange…and me.”
“Hold on,” Laurent quickly adds in, extending a hand in my direction. “She didn’t know Dad. Not until afterward.”
“Afterward…?” He lets his comment linger in the air, and I take the con.
“I found Odette and Solange in one of the guest bedrooms. He was handcuffed to the headboard, and I thought…” I quickly clear my throat and swallow. There’s no certain wording that’s going to make this sound any better. “Use your imagination, Dad. It wasn’t until the next morning when Mom told me why he was in our house that I found out why he was restrained.”
Okay, so I didn’t tell him everything.
But he doesn’t know about Vince, and I don’t want to put any more pressure or issues on his shoulders than he’s going to have right now. I’ll confess more of my sins at a later time when we find out if Rhett Mills is going to come after us.
Or me.
Fuck.
“This can’t be right,” Dad says with a shake of his head. “I haven’t seen or heard anyone—“
“Basement,” Laurent reminds him. “He was gagged, I think for a good portion of it, but…he’s gone now.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
Laurent heaves his shoulders. “Don’t know.”
“So you’re telling me—“ Dad leans forward over the table. His suit almost touches the red sauce from his pasta, but I don’t stop him. No, he’s about to blow up right now by the crimson flush on his face. The vein in his temple begins to bulge from his skin. “—that my wife, your mother, kidnapped a man to cipher his blood out for me?”
My brother nods.
Dad snorts skeptically and leans back, his spine hitting the back of his chair. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever—“
“Dad, it’s the truth,” I claim quietly, playing with my fingers underneath the table. “I know it’s hard to digest, but I was there. Laurent saw him too.”
“How the hell did he get out then if—“
“I think someone helped him break out; again, we’re not sure,” Laurent replies. “But there are chains screwed to the wall downstairs. They obviously didn’t come with the house.”
“Is he hurt? Have you heard from him?”
I shake my head automatically, even though I shouldn’t lie about it. I’m just terrified with the news of all this and now the stress of not having a donor; something will happen.
“I need to talk to your mother.” Dad begins to stand, but my arm shoots out to stop him.
“Wait, hold on, let’s talk—“
“I think I’ve already heard enough, Amirah. Why didn’t you tell me?” His expression appears pained and betrayed at my admission to keep this all quiet. And it’s all true. I held most of the truths and more from him just now.
“I didn’t want you to…I was scared.”
“It’s my fault too,” Laurent surmises. “We were trying to think of a way to let you know, but there really wasn’t, was there?”
Dad stands then swiftly buttons his suit jacket. “I need to head home and talk to your mother about this. Pay for dinner, Laurent, will you? I’ll pick up the next one.” He pivots and strides through the crowded restaurant, not bothering to kiss the top of my head as he always does when he leaves.
It bothers me that he’s disappointed in me. And even then, I still didn’t explain every detail or let him in on why I totally didn’t open my mouth. That my past was something that they kept over my head.
“Our phones will be blowing up by tomorrow,” my brother grumbles through my thoughts. “As if all this is our fault.”
He means our sisters and the chaos they’re going to blow our way.
“They’re going to try and frame you,” I blurt out, staring at my unfinished pasta and feeling my stomach twist into knots from all the problems stirring around our lives.
All I did was come home from school for spring break and got my whole world spun upside down.
“What do you mean?”
“They threatened me to listen to them, or they were going to sic Francesca on you. I don’t know how but she got beat up, and our lovely sisters were going to have her call the cops and claim it was you.”
“Fuck her,” he seizes out. “I have text messages from her about wanting to hurt herself and shit. It won’t hold up in court.”
Oh, I wish he hadn’t said that because we all know what the hell I did.
“I guess we better gear up.”
Laurent nods. “Yeah.” He picks up his drink and brings it to his lips. “This is going to end badly for one side.”
I snort through my nose. “I’m on both. I’m fucked either way.”
“Please take a seat, Miss Van Doren.“ Mr. Maro, the Dean of Thomas Jefferson University, gestures with his hand for me to take one of the black leather chairs in front of his desk. ”I appreciate you coming by during classes.”
“Not a problem.” I slowly take a seat, confused and anxious about suddenly being called down here of all places.
I’ve never been in this office, never had a reason to. However, Mr. Maro doesn’t make himself a stranger in the hallways, greeting students when he’s out and about.
I feel his dark brown eyes fall on me as he folds his dry hands along the desk. Apparently, he means business with his unyielding attention that he’s not helping my growing nervousness. He continues to hold it steady, appearing a little odd sitting behind such a big desk because Mr. Maro isn’t that tall, and the edge meets mid-chest on him. He reminds me of Danny Devito.
