NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 41
Thought it’d be ineffective to my sister and highly inappropriate to do at an event such as this or at all because I’m not sure holy water would help me.
“Solange,” I seethe through my teeth, rounding her body and making a point to land my gaze on the black manicured hand clutched on Mills’s forearm. “Haven’t you all learned nothing about the consequences of what’s happened thus far?”
My sister pries her focus off Mills but nothing else, hitting me with an unamused look as if I’m interrupting something extremely important.
I am—my memorable night that I wanted sister-free. She’s creating a tornado of bloodshed that I want to spill on a perfect night.
“I see you’re still wearing the marks Odette gave you on your neck,” she muses with a tilt of her lips. “I see you haven’t listened either.”
“Get away from him,” I warn. “Or I swear to God I’ll punch you in the face and break your already jacked up—”
“It’s fine, Rus,” Mills cuts in placidly. “No need to start a scene.” He looks over my head like he can’t stand the thought of one of his attackers touching him, and it makes my need to protect him more vital.
“Get off,” I leer, stepping closer to my sister, and within the next sixty seconds, I’m going to make a fool out of myself. “I don’t care about making a scene right now. I will drop-kick your ass for everything you’ve fucking done to him.”
“Rus.”
I ignore Mills and continue to hold my glaring contest with Solange. “Move, bitch. I’ve had enough. You weren’t invited to this.”
“I don’t need to be,” she replies smoothly. “Why don’t you go look for Laurent. He’s someone who likes you, and you don’t even need to fuck him too.”
“Back off, Rus,” Mills says again, a steeliness to his tone that wasn’t there a minute ago.
Drawing my eyes back to his, gone is the mischief expression from hours ago when he went down on me. Instead, it’s replaced with a solemn one. The same look I got when he couldn’t stand me.
Confused and feeling slightly whiplashed by his expression, I take one step back, wanting to stay to protect him but embarrassed because I don’t understand what’s happening.
“Go hand off more business cards,” Solange spits out, her hand falling on his hard chest possessively. “Make the most of your night.”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m not leaving when a redhead dressed in an all skin-right maroon gown presses up at Solange’s back and leans over her shoulder.
Her lips are painted in the same color as her gown, and her skin flawlessly smooth and tan.
She’s absolutely gorgeous until my awe of her beauty halts to a screeching stop when I see the long end of a blade pressed into Solange’s spine.
“You’re going to go fuck off somewhere else,” she mutters loud enough for our small group to hear. “Or I’ll cut your spine out, bitch. If he’s anyone’s, he’s mine. And I have no problem fighting over him. You like using nails—“ Solange gasps, and I’m assuming the sharp part of the blade may have poked her. “—I like sharp things and massive dildos to shove in bitch’s mouths when they scream too loud. Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Him.”
Solange grits her teeth but doesn’t move an inch.
“I’ll help you.” The redhead loops her arm with my sister and tugs her off and away from Mills. Leaving me staring at the both of them striding off into the crowd and getting lost within my eyesight.
“Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Mills says calmly, erasing the space between us and standing directly in front of me. “You good?”
My eyes make a trail up his chest to his stormy grays. “What did she mean when she said your hers?”
Mills smirks the boyish and cocky charm back in his face. “That’s all you got out of that?” I continue to stare at him, pending my answer to the nail-biting question I want to respond to. “Remember when I told you there were two females I’d do anything for?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve just met Blue.”
My brows clash. “Who?”
“I work with her.”
“And that makes you hers?” I narrow my eyes and cross my arms along my chest, granting my jealousy to shine through like a damn diamond. “In what capacity?”
“Like in the, I didn’t fuck her kind if that’s what you’re thinking, Rus.”
Yep. I’m an idiot.
More than an idiot, actually. I feel like Solange and her overbearing need to start claiming shit by putting name tags on it.
“Right.” I raise my chin, fighting back the embarrassment rising to my cheeks. “Are you okay?”
Mills’s lips lift higher. “With you fighting for me? Baby, I’m feeling hella honored.”
“I’m not a fighter, really, but—“
“But you’d stick up for me.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Mills towers over me, his dangerous job and whoever else is around her looming around us like we’re in a protected circle against my family. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
I bite my lower lip, keeping my growing grin from breaking out into a full-blown shit-eating smile. “Well, if someone talks shit, can that Blue girl come back?”
He nods. “Hell yeah, she can.”
Lowering his head, our mouths meet, and he takes this kiss to an unbearable slow and PG-rated pace. I can feel the tip of his tongue slide across the seam of my mouth, but he won’t slide it in like I want other body parts to. No, he tortures me in a completely different way than his previous warnings.
I haven’t felt a strong connection like this ever in my life. A strong pull with such force that it leaves me winded, confused, and wanting more.
Mills reaches for one of my hands, lacing our fingers together, and breaks our kiss. “Dance with me?”
This man must believe I have some superpower against his charm for me to say no, but I don’t. It’s obviously best that he doesn’t because next I’ll be the Bonnie to his Clyde or participate in whatever it is he needs me to do.
He escorts me to the designated dance floor where couples are already slow dancing to Heaven by Kane Brown. Mills wastes no time compressing me into his hard body and placing his palm right above my ass.
When he looks down at me, I swear everything washes out beside us and the music.
How in the hell did I end up with this man right here and now?
He took but gave me so much more.
I feel more confident with him around. I feel beautiful and capable. That this fashion career isn’t a pipe dream, it’s something that could really happen.
“Have I told you in the last five minutes that I want to take you to a dark corner and go down on you again?”
My cheeks lift, and I shake my head. “No, but alas, my sister ruined something else.”
“Not everything,” he surmises, pulling me in closer when our bodies are already pressed up together. “I like you...like, a lot. I think you’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t know what you did to me, but…I want to take you on a date.”
My heart leaps in my chest, and I can’t even dissect his words before I blurt out, “A date?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His expression is serious but soft as he patiently waits for my answer. It’s choked up in my throat because why would he want to date me?
We’re surrounded by my evil sisters and my mother, probably sucking the soul out of someone as we speak.
“Don’t make me add kidnapping to my rap sheet, Rus.”
I snort out a chuckle and bob my head. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
His lips heave. “Yeah? Can I take you home later?” His voice is playful and sweet, sinking into my skin like it wants to wear the self-esteem he doesn’t know he gives me like a cloak.
A girl could get used to this—him.
“You’re just going to drop me off?” I ask innocently, holding his gaze.
“I could get addicted to you, Rus. I can’t seem to leave you alone.”
My whole face brightens. “You? I don’t know; you seem pretty important and busy elsewhere.”
“I am,” he replies. “Right here.” He brings our linked hands to his lips and kisses the top of mine.
I sigh.
Yep, sigh.
“You better watch yourself, Rhett Mills. I might become a snob with the compliments.”
“There are ways to knock you down a few notches.” He leans in and whispers, “I still want your ass, Amirah Van Doren. That might settle you down when I give you a few inches just to see how far it’ll take to make you scream.”
Shit.
The scary part of all this is that him taking a piece of me that no other man has touched thrills me. And it being done by him only sends tingles down my stomach and between my legs.
“Please don’t tell me you’d like that,” he growls as if he’s in excruciating pain. “I’m losing self-control by the second when I’m around you.”
“And we wouldn’t want to make a scene, right?”
“Only because this is an important night for you.” His forehead meets mine. “And I’m proud of you, Rus.”
I push against him a tad harder. “You don’t know what that means to me.”
He nudges my nose with his. “Show me.”
His head is blocking the crowd around us, and I take the opportunity to bite gently down on his lower lip and drag my teeth down. He’s instantaneously on me, nudging my mouth wider as he swallows me whole.
Every inhale, exhale, moan, and worry about anyone staring at us—gone.
I touch his tongue with mine in one teasing stroke before pulling at the lapel of his suit, expressing that I want more.
I want to go somewhere.
I want him.
“Fuck,” he whispers through a shuttered exhale. “I don’t think I should take you home now.”
“Then take me with you,” I counteroffer, keeping myself dangerously close to his lips.
“I want to, but I have to head back to Pittsburgh soon.”
“Is that where you live?”
He nods and straightens his spine to my displeasure. “I spend a lot of time with my best friend and her kids. She’s Bishop’s wife, Emmy.”
“Oh.” I can’t help that my stomach twists a little at him leaving again. “That’s really nice.”
“You got plans this weekend?” I shake my head. “You wanna come with me?”
“Oh, I…” I don’t know. I can’t seem to thoroughly shake the feeling of our past and how his friends must think of me. I don’t want them to believe I’m using him or anything. I genuinely like being with and around him.
“I’d like you there.”
“I’m nervous,” I reply. “I did things—“
“And I forgave you,” he retorts confidently. “You don’t have to, Rus, but I loved you there. Think about it, okay?”
“Absolutely. Of course, I will.”
He kisses my forehead, and the song has already ended.
I’ll think about it.
But I believe I’ll talk myself out of it quicker than anything.
I bring Amirah home like I promised and did a walk-through of the penthouse to make sure nothing or no one was looming around to pounce when I left.
At first, I was hoping there was some asshole hiding in a closet to take some of the tension out of my veins and apply it to something I can full-out rage on.
Because tonight was…something else.
Tonight, I feel like Amirah, and I broke through a thick barrier of tension and whatever it is that floats around us.
I feel more like me.
However, I’m scared it’ll blind me to make sure that, after all this, we’re not both openly susceptible to the things her family may inflict. They’re still a problem. Something that is always going to loom over Amirah’s head unless I cut its head off.
After my encounters with both bitch sisters, I thought I’d want to straight throat-punch the fuck out of them. But after making Amirah come into the private balcony area that I arranged for us, our fingers laced together throughout the whole show, I was as cool as a cucumber.
Like no one could shit on my day.
Cloud nine type shit.
Weird because I've been wanting to annihilate half her damn family for weeks, looked for Amirah's permission then—poof—everything evaporates, and all I need is Amirah.
Although, she gave more of a fuck because she went full-blown lioness with Solange and wanting to protect me.
It turned me on.
It took me back.
Yeah, I realized it then that I got it bad.
Amirah went inside her bedroom to get changed, and I didn’t want to leave until I said good night to her. My body, brain, cock, and common sense all crave to stay with her tonight, but I need to keep a level head and my wits about me somehow.
And that means to place some distance and space between us so we can take our time. It’s apparent that I can’t keep my lips or hands off her, and she has her first day of work tomorrow at the bar.
I hear the door to her room open, and I move to stand, striding forward to look down the hallway to meet her. Then every damn thing and logical thought falls to the wayside.
With a Calvin Kline pink sweatshirt that only comes up to her belly button and white panties that read the same designer along the waistband, Amirah moves my way.
She smiles when she sees me, swaying her hips this way and that. Not sure if she's doing it on purpose or if I never really paid that much attention to her hips but her ass. Regardless—yeah.
Stopping a few feet away, she props her elbow along the wall, palming the side of her head casual and sexy when she crosses her legs at the ankle. “Sooo...will this make you stay?”
“Shit.” I’m already marching on a mission, heading straight for her and bumping into her frame while my hands wrap around her ass.
Lifting her in my arms, her legs instantly encase around my waist, and she goes in for the kill.
No longer are there partygoers that can gape at us. Her annoying ass sisters aren’t around. I can’t be put on her father’s blacklist for tongue-fucking his youngest daughter like I am now.
It’s just her and I.
What I’ve been waiting hours for us to be.
In her bedroom, I sit her cute ass on the edge of the bed while I work on my suit coat. My arms are almost out of the sleeves when Amirah stops me.
“Keep the suit on,” she orders, stretching her neck to meet my lips again.
Fuck.
I won’t deny her anything right now. I’ll be any fantasy she ever thought about with me or something she thought about on the fly. It doesn’t matter.
Leaning over and lifting her into the center of the bed, our kisses become sloppy and deprived like we hadn’t just made out in the middle of an after-party just hours ago. Like we don’t have a dark past that brought us together.
But how long is that going to be a thing, huh?
I know her secrets, her reasons.
I got over it.
And now I want all of her.
"You ruined everything," I mutter, clasping my lips around her bottom and lightly suck on the plump flesh. "I had just convinced myself to leave so you could be fully rested for your new job tomorrow."
"Sleep is for the weak." Her fingers begin undoing the buttons of my slacks as I bring my head around to pepper pecks along her cheeks then down to devour the sensitive trail of her neck.
My cock practically springs from the zipper and into Amirah’s hands when she touches it, and I hiss against the crook of her throat.
Skin against skin, every muscle in me laxes, and it’s like I’m jelly with no bone structure. My fingers graze down her rib cage, catching her naked flesh before they land on the elastic band of her sexy Calvin Kline, plain as shit, underwear.
As I pull down, Amirah counters my actions, bringing one of her legs up to get out of them. The same one wrapping around my ass and hurling me closer as I suck on her earlobe while she demands more right now and not another second later.
“Impatient little thing, aren’t you,” I tease into her ear as she painfully strokes my dick with one hand and kisses the stubble of my jawline.
“I like you too,” she whispers then, her words brushing along my skin. “A lot, actually.”
I bring my head around to look down on her. “Yeah?” She nods, green eyes blazing, and it’s no trouble to get lost in them. “Put me inside you so I can put some meaning behind my words.”
Her lips quirk as she positions the tip of my cock to meet the warm and wet center between her legs.
This is how kingdoms fall, and men betray other men.
The craving for a woman you’re highly attracted to throws all caution, shit, and fucks to the wind. Rationality crumbs along with cities. Wars are started from the moans they impel from their sweet lips, and I'm no exception.
I'd go down for Amirah right now.
Slowly, I thrust inside, my lungs and dick getting strangled in the process. Amirah’s lips part as she adjusts to me, and this is the deepest moment I think I’ve ever been in.
This isn’t just fucking anymore.
It’s something strong and addicting that I can’t drive away. I want Amirah Van Doren as mine, and I have no problem handing myself down as hers too.
If she wants it.
And, fuck me, I think she does.
My pace quickens on its own recognizance because I’ve waited weeks and dreamed about it almost every night to be right here with this woman who is not only beautiful, intelligent, and kind but remorseful. She’s given me what I needed, and that was not to hate her. For someone to give a shit that they were wrong with what happened to me. That I'm not totally a worthless human being and, no offense to Bishop and Marty, but I'm not going to be fucked up in the head over it.
When I’m to the hilt, I groan, the cotton fabric to my dress shirt sticking to my sweaty skin as Amirah arches her back off the mattress, her breasts coming up and her neck exposed for me to wrap my hand around it. When I do, she doesn’t react in fear but flicks her greens to me as I thrust into her with whatever feels good.
