Cute.
I was the one with the gun in my shoulder holster, yet she was the threat. Fucking hilarious.
“I’m a formidable man, Otelia.” I leaned in closer. “Or have you forgotten?”
“Hardly.” She stuck out a hip and glowered at me suspiciously. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here, dressed like…that?” She waved the can around, taken aback by my jeans and leather jacket. I always wore a suit, dress the part and all that. I liked that she noticed the change.
I came to see if you wanted to fuck.
“Ice cream,” I replied.
“What?”
“I came to take you out for ice cream, you know, the frozen sweet stuff that melts in your mouth. Of course, if you prefer sherbet, I’m up for that as well.”
She looked around as if the answer to my question would somehow fall from the sky.
“It’s late. Shops are closed, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Business never sleeps in the underworld, Otelia.” I smirked.
“Even for ice cream?” She raised a speculative brow.
“Especially for ice cream when I’m the one doing the asking.” I smiled smugly.
She contemplated my offer, fatigue evident on her pretty face. I thought for a minute she would deny me, send me packing with my tail between my legs. Instead, she opened the door, flicked the light on in the hallway, and left it cracked for me to follow. My blood pressure shot up fifty degrees as I noticed the faint stain of blood from where the message had been written. When I got my hands on the motherfuckers responsible, they’d wish they were never born. I’d take my time, make it last for hours, before dropping the hammer with my Glock.
“Take a load off, Mac. I’ll be out in a minute,” Otelia called.
The inside was just as I’d expected. Homey, with just the right number of personal touches to know it was Otelia who lived here. Mismatched furniture, a poster of a naked male bodybuilder over the mantle, and a few photographs taken of her and Maribel Laine at the diner. It was comfortable, style-less, and uniquely her.
She retreated around the corner, throwing her purse, keys, and phone haphazardly on the sofa in the living room. I assumed she was going to change out of that ridiculous uniform into something more comfortable. It wasn’t until I heard water running that I realized there was a bathroom at the end of the hall. Images of her standing naked in the shower while droplets of water splashed around her gorgeous tits had my dick leaking with lust. Calm your shit, Darragh.
I made a call to one of my guys, who thought it was a joke when I ordered him to track down the ice cream. I assured him it wasn’t, after I threatened to cut off his balls and force them down his girlfriend’s throat.
“31 flavors on the way, boss,” was his only reply.
“You know that feeling?” Otelia yelled from behind the bathroom door. “That first good fart after a long day of standing on your feet surrounded by strangers? The one that starts at the base of your spine and bubbles up from the gullet like a freakin’ freight train?”
She emerged from the bathroom wearing another one of those tiny shirts that stretched across her chest with flowy night pants. Face scrubbed free of makeup, hair tied high in a messy ponytail, and she was the prettiest thing I’d seen in a long time. Hard nipples greeted me from the cool air. I turned away, rubbing a hand along my mouth to check if I was drooling. I was.
“It’s the best feeling in the world in my opinion,” she finished.
Days later, I’d recall her earlier comment about flatulence and laugh my ass off. The way things stood, I was having difficulty controlling the impulse to throw her down on the floor and fuck her back out to truly appreciate the joke.
“Mind if I take a seat?” I asked.
“Of course.” She motioned towards the sofa. “You are my invited guest.”
Easier said than done with a hard dick.
I had to move all of her shit out of the way to make room for myself. I grabbed the purse and keys in one hand, cell in the other, accidentally pressing the numbered display. It lit up with a message on speaker before the echoes of a male voice carried inside the quiet room.
Good morning, my love.
I know I’m due to see you at school in less than an hour, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you this: I love you. I love you. I love you…
She snatched the phone from my hand before I could hear the rest of the message. Her face contorted with rage before settling on indignation. Well, she wasn’t the only one who was pissed the fuck off. My eyes narrowed while speckles of white light floated behind the lids. Disloyal-ass cunt let me fuck her, sample her sweet pussy while another Bob the dumb fuck was waiting for her at home? I was incensed with my disgust for her, and she saw it on my face.
“That was a private message, Darragh,” she seethed.
“Private, huh? All that bullshit talk about love being the most important thing, finding your one true soul mate. You’re nothing more than a common whore, woman. If I’d known ahead of time, I would’ve offered you money to ride my cock. So, how much is it going to take, huh? Fifty? A hundred?” I reached for my wallet and grabbed a stack of bills, throwing a handful at her feet. My hands shook with uncontrolled madness.
“You’re wrong, Darragh.” She turned her head, refusing to look me in the eyes.
“Don’t you dare turn away.” I grabbed her hand still holding the phone and squeezed. Her breath hitched at the sudden pressure against her fingers. “You took my cock knowing there was someone else relying on you, loving you, missing you? Maybe I should call him back and tell him what you really are.”
She yanked her hand away and attacked.
Screeching and biting.
She fought for her life.
“Not you!” she screamed. “It wasn’t supposed to be you. He promised me! He promised!”
“Calm the fuck down, Otelia.” I tried to hold her steady.
“I fucking hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
That was all it took for her to fold into herself and collapse on the floor in a heap, shoulders sagged. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, and I wanted desperately to hold her in my arms and make them all go away. Then I felt a new wave of heat running along my neck as I picked apart her perfect ruse. It hit way too close to home, reminiscent of my time with Bella and all that happened after. Her man was totally unaware that she was playing him. I was sure she was all smiles, hushed whispers, and intimate touches, all the while using Nipsy’s as her own personal stomping ground. Mystery man wouldn’t know a thing about it until it was too late and she married someone else. Get over it, they’d tell him and think him a fool. All except for her. She would think him weak. Weak and powerless, poor fucker. I knew how this story ended.
Strangely calm, she pivoted.
“You don’t listen very well for a supposed businessman. It’s no wonder someone like Kellan O’Brien is whopping your ass,” she sneered. “The message said I’ll see you at school, bright boy, and as you can see, I’m no longer in school. So, take your money and your pathetic insults and shove them up your fucking ass.”
School? How did I miss that?
“Otelia…” She shut me down with a shake of her head.