“I…can’t…too much.”
“We’re going to come together, baby. Are you ready?”
My legs were shaking so bad, they had to be hitting him in the ears like brass cymbals. Mac pumped his dick two more times, flicked his tongue over my swollen clit, and without an ounce of shame, I screamed like a banshee when my orgasm could no longer be denied. Mac was right behind me with his own howl of relief. My legs slipped from his shoulders in time to feel the warmth of his seed as it spilled along the inside of my thighs. I kept my balance on the bar as best I could without falling off while I regulated my breathing. All I needed was a blanket and a pillow, and my ass would’ve lain there all night. It was Mac who rushed through his recovery.
“Tour’s over, Otelia.” He straightened, tucking himself away. “Back to business.”
Talk about a reality slap.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
I covered my legs in a show of pseudo modesty as I choked back the sour taste of revulsion. I’d let my friends down. More importantly, I’d let myself down. Now that the allure was over and I’d gotten my rocks off, I didn’t feel sated. I felt like a backstabbing whore undeserving of the personal sacrifices that were being made for me. Way to go, Odie.
Ticktock, ticktock.
It was almost over.
CHAPTER 13
MacCabe
ONCE, WHEN I was a little boy, I lost my favorite toy and wasn’t able to find it. I looked around for hours upon hours, even so far as asking my brothers to help with the search. After three days, I realized that all hope was gone and the item would never be found. My father caught me crying after it happened and asked why I was so sad, to which I responded that I’d lost something and hadn’t been able to find it. At first, he’d laughed and told me not to worry. If it was meant to be, it would eventually show up. Turned out he was wrong, and I never found the toy. When I told him about it later, he asked me a single question, and I’d thought of nothing more since Otelia and I left the warehouse.
“Were you careless, Darragh, or did you safeguard the item so that no one could take it from you? Think carefully, son. The answer could be very important to you as well as the people you love someday,” he instructed.
“I…” My mind stuttered to come up with an answer. “I thought I kept it safe.”
“You mean you assumed you did,” he corrected sternly. “Now it’s gone, and you learned a very important lesson. Never trust in what you assume, only in what you know.”
That wasn’t the only thing I’d cultivated that day. I was careless and took it for granted that my property would be where I’d left it and no one would dare take it. I was complacent when it came to protecting what was mine. I’d left myself open to infiltrators who didn’t give a shit about me as a person. Last but not least, I was reckless and hadn’t used the brain that Christ gave me to think things through. One of the laws of physics states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Eating the pussy of a woman who considered herself my captive wasn’t science, but it could have major consequences if I didn’t play this right. I showed a common man’s weakness by fucking around with her when I should’ve kept my distance from the beginning. I knew better, but I did it anyway, a foolish mistake, one a man like me couldn’t afford to make, regardless of how good her cunt tasted on my tongue.
The ride back to the penthouse was quiet. I was grateful for that. What was there to say? Otelia was lost in her thoughts, and I dared not disturb her. It was better that way. A few more hours, and I’d be letting her go, back to where she came from. When we entered the building, I knew right away that something was wrong. There were three extra guards posted at the entrance, two more by the elevators, and several more strategically placed in the hallway. They didn’t acknowledge us, nor did they bother to provide an explanation of what they were doing there. They didn’t have to—I knew what this was all about. I recognized the setup.
Otelia and I stepped inside and came face to face with one of the biggest crime bosses in Boston. Conner MacCabe sat stoically in the living area, sipping a glass of brandy while he waited for my arrival. Otelia pulled up short when she noticed we had company and appraised the older man with a keen eye and a tilt of her head.
He was not happy.
“Get rid of the whore, Darragh,” he demanded, eyes downcast on the amber liquid. “We need to talk, and I’d prefer to do it in private.”
Otelia didn’t appreciate the moniker and told him so. Crazy woman.
“Actually,” she sassed, hand firmly on her hip, “I’m not a whore. I’m a hostage. And unless you want to get arrested for acting as an accomplice, I suggest you do something about it.”
The distinguished older gentleman barely spared her a glance, but I could tell he was slightly amused by her antics. He stood from his chair, slowly walked over to where we stood by the door, and towered over the now shocked but silent woman.
“I’ll be sure to get right on that, lass,” he quipped. “Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of me…that would break my heart.”
Even though Otelia cowered behind me, I heard her petulant and not well disguised harrumph and knew she was pissed. My father wasn’t violent against women, but he was old school and preferred them to stay in their place. I couldn’t leave her flapping in the wind, as much as I would’ve liked to have seen the end of this little battle.
“Otelia, this is my father, Conner MacCabe. Father, this is Otelia Mae…my guest,” I introduced them with a wave of my hand.
“Father?” she squawked, surprised. “I, um…this is, um…”
Otelia finally stepped around from behind my back and squared her shoulders, readying herself for round two, or so I thought. She plastered on the biggest, fakest smile I’d ever seen in my life and went in on the old man.
“I can see where Darragh here gets his good looks.” She smoothed down his tie and flipped her hair off her shoulder. “If you get him to let me go, I’ll make it worth your while. Free breakfast at Nipsy’s for a year and all the lukewarm coffee your stomach can handle. How does that sound, Big Mac? Care to give junior here the what for?”
I saw red.
I saw motherfuckin’ red.
My father howled with laughter, something he rarely did, especially around strangers. He couldn’t have known how her flirtatious actions stirred a darkness deep inside my soul that I’d kept hidden for years, even from him. It was as if I’d been hurled back in time by some cruel virtual reality where I was expected to once again stand by and watch my woman set her sights on someone higher up the food chain.
Accept it and move on.
She isn’t your woman, I reminded myself.
I still had the taste of her pussy on my upper lip, and she wanted to try this shit? Right in front of my fucking face, she pulled a power play, expertly so? I was incensed by her boldness, the unmitigated gall to try and ignore me as the one in complete control here, not my fucking father.
The youngest holds no power.
You will never rule the family.
I’m marrying someone else.
I’d heard it all before, but this time was different. This time, I owned her ass for the next eight hours, and there wasn’t a damn thing my father could do about it. This was fight business, which was my fucking business, and I made the goddamn rules. The two of them had their moment, light touches and suggestive smirks. I’d give them that. It wasn’t until I reached out and grabbed Otelia around the neck from behind that they knew the Fuck Darragh Show was over.