48 Mac (Junkyard Boys #5)(65)
Author: S.H. Richardson

Oran’s recent ascension hadn’t quelled his surly disposition. He was still behaving like a dick, but as long as he kept his ass in Boston, I was willing to overlook it. He stuck to his lane, and I stuck to mine. It was safer that way, for the both of us. Ferdi stayed behind to help him with the transition, which had left my hands full trying to juggle the business and a stubborn-ass woman with a petty side who’d refused to give me the time of day. Apparently, fucking “psycho bitches” was a crime punishable by the cold shoulder and silent treatment. I admit, I’d deserved her ire. My dick was partially to blame for Bella’s plan to dead her husband. So, I’d indulged her little tantrum for a short time.

She’d pushed, I’d pulled.

She’d run, I’d chased.

She’d fought, I’d fought harder.

Otelia used my despicable fuckup with Bella to get exactly what she wanted, starting with the banning of Marci Laine from ever attending one of my fights. I personally delivered that message and wasn’t the least bit sorry to see her move the fuck on if that’s what it took to make my woman happy. But her trivialities didn’t stop there. She insisted that the penthouse rental had to go, some bullshit about it perpetuating the bachelor gangsta lifestyle that gave women the wrong idea. I’d already planned on moving out but spitefully kept that from her. I let her think she had me by the balls and purchased a ten-thousand-square-foot house in the hills. Otelia thought it was a monstrosity and exuded small dick energy, so I sold it and bought an even bigger one. That ended her little conniption fit and checked off another one of her reasons not to fuck with Darragh boxes on her made-up list.

Her final request? A large donation to the local hospice on behalf of Marcus Mecken for the horrible way I’d treated him. Her words. That little demand was the hardest to conciliate in comparison to the others. It wasn’t about the money or the cause; it was the presumption that I was somehow unjust in the steps I necessitated to further my business. I could never regret the turn of events that brought us together. I told her as much when I denied her that one indulgence. I made the donation anonymously, and in return, she retaliated by freezing me out.

Such a brave little kitty cat.

Ultimately, I had enough of her bullshit and locked her in my penthouse for forty-eight hours, just like old times. I won her absolution with hard cock pounding inside her sweet pussy till all she could think about was more, more, more. The following morning, I had her shit packed up and moved into the monstrosity before she made it out of bed.

Who said compromise was bad?

I watched Otelia as she made her way towards me and couldn’t keep the smile from crossing my lips. She looked beautiful dressed as Cleopatra Jones in a tiny minidress, rocking knee-high platform boots, with large dangling earrings. Her hips swaying as she climbed the steps to the top, seductively licking her lips, my dick surged against my zipper in appreciation. I made a show of adjusting my hard-on. Her doe eyes peered up at me as she sustained her unhurried stride.

“How’s it hanging, partner?” she crooned, head tilted to the side.

“You tell me, boss woman. We making any money tonight?”

“Damn straight we are, thanks to me.”

She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a slopping wet kiss. I tugged her closer, needing to feel her soft tits pressed against my chest. I’d waited all night to have her all to myself, and I took advantage of our little moment together.

“And humble to boot.” I kissed the side of her neck, causing her to squeal.

“How about we get out of here? We’ve done enough work for the night,” she coaxed.

“I would need a damn good reason to leave my place of business, Otelia.”

“Would you now?”

“Uh-huh.” I smirked.

She turned around and lifted her dress just high enough to tease, giving her ass a little shake.

“I can think of forty-eight sparkling reasons, Mr. MacCabe. Take your pick.”

Too much and not enough.

“Splendid,” I groaned.

In a snap, I threw her over my shoulder, awarding her backside with a hard smack.

“Fucking splendid.”

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