She crawled toward him. Papers rustled beneath her palms and stuck to her knees. He lifted his head and stared at her. She reached for his tie, slowly tugging it loose. “This isn’t fair.” Lord, she was whining. The actions of one man reduced her to a hot mess. “Strip…I will fuck you then nothing. Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Is that the best you can do?” He slid the material from between her fingers. “Tell me what you want and say please.”
Rica reared back and leaned on her calves.
Keiran
was the man she wanted, and she usually gave him a hard time but she always gave in. It didn’t hurt to make him work a little though. “No.”
His brows came together. The corners of Kieran’s lips lifted slightly. “I forgot how cute you get when you’re rebelling.” Gently, he skimmed his knuckles between her breasts and down her belly to cup her pussy. He slipped his finger between her folds. Her lids drifted shut as tingling spread through her nether lips. She rolled her hips as he pressed a digit into the mouth of her channel. “Beautiful girl with the pretty pussy,” he whispered. “I never expected to keep you but letting you go might be the end of me.”
She opened her eyes to meet his ice-blue gaze. “I don’t know where you get your ideas from, sexy, but I
ain’t
going nowhere.”
“All you have to say is please.” He lifted his finger to his mouth and sucked it.
“You haven’t done anything to make me beg.” Rica pressed her lips firmly together.
“
Derrica
.” Huskiness colored his tone.
She straightened her legs over the edge of the desk and set her feet on the outsides of his thighs. Inching forward, she rested her hands on his shoulder and peered into his eyes. “Slay me, Daddy.” She sank to the floor between his legs and reached for his waistband, unbuttoning his pants.
Kieran descended in his seat and rested his head against the back. Warmth bled into her fingertips as she slipped them beyond his zipper. Her palm grazed the hard length of his cock, and she curled her digits around his thickness, easing it free of its constraints. Fluid coated her palm. She was reminded of velvet covering steel as she slid her hand up his erection and around his cock head. Rica dipped her head and sucked his rod between her lips. Saltiness exploded across her taste buds. The edge of her fist bumped her mouth as she worked his dick.
His fingers brushed her neck as he gripped her braids and urged her head down. His shaft filled her mouth, blocking her throat. Saliva pooled around her tongue. She relaxed her muscles and swallowed. Rica slid her hand up his thigh and cupped his nuts. Springy hair tickled her palm as she massaged his sac. Kieran thrust up, his dick hitting the back of her throat.
Her clit throbbed. She released his balls and thrust her hand between her legs. Juices covered her digits as she plunged them into her sheath. Waves of pleasure rippled through her. She moaned against his rod. Kieran controlled her head, slamming it up and down. His nuts brushed her lips. She worked her hand faster, rotating her wrist. The walls of her channel undulated, pulling her digits deeper. Her cheeks hollowed from the force of the suction forming around his shaft.
The chair squeaked and rolled back. She stretched forward; her nipples scrubbed the edge of the worn leather seat adding another layer of sensation. Rica bounced on her fingers as Kieran fucked her mouth. She tightened her grip on the base of his cock. Her belly tautened. She reared back, sliding her mouth up and grazing his skin with her teeth.
“Fuck,” Kieran bellowed.
Ribbons of come covered her tongue. She plunged her digits knuckle-deep and the pressure building up along her nerve endings erupted. Her mouth came off his cock as she threw her head back, carnal wails escaping through her lips. Rica dropped back on her calves, and her body unwound.
Kieran rose, his dick jutting up in front of him. He seized her by the biceps and yanked her up. “This is my pussy, pretty girl.” He backed her up until her thighs hit the edge of the desk. “Give me what I want.”
She did as she was told, and he rammed his cock into her sheath.
He caught her by her braids and tugged her back until she was on her back. “Who do you belong to?” He spoke through clenched teeth.
Her heels grazed the top of his ass with every drive. She followed the buttons of his shirt down his torso. Through his clothes, the definition of his torso was clear with every movement. His neck glistened and the tendons were stark. A few strands of his hair fell over his forehead. Long lashes that should have belonged to a woman framed closed lids. His nose flared as he inhaled. In that moment she committed his features to memory. She loved Kieran, faults and all. “I’m yours, baby. Always.” The last word was whispered.
Kieran clutched her hips, drawing her to him. His blunt-tipped nails dug into soft tissue. She held his wrists and rolled her pelvis to meet his lunges. Spasms made her movements jerky as mini climaxes piggybacked each other through her system. She set her feet on the desk and lifted her pelvis as he pounded into her passage. Rica’s shoulders came up off the smooth wooden surface as she slid her palms up his arms to grip his elbows. He opened his eyes and she spiraled into the azure depths. Kieran held the back of her head and dipped, claiming her mouth with his own.
He raised his head. “Break apart for me, beautiful.” His words came from far away.
Attuned to his command, her orgasm crashed through her, blowing her body apart. She came back together and collapsed.
He lay over her, resting on his elbows, and fingered the fine baby hair along her nape. “Some things are going to happen, pretty girl. Stay close to the bar. If I’m worried about you I can’t do what needs to be done.” He kissed her forehead “Understand?”
She curled her arms around his neck. The thread of steel was clear in his tone. “Yes.” Whatever he needed, she would do.
“Shannon, I’ve taken care of everything on my end.” Kieran peered at the image of his brother on the screen.
“We’ll close the businesses soon.” The synchronization on the videoconference was off, and the picture wasn’t keeping up with the conversation.
“It’s time. Negotiations have gone on long enough. I’ll get in touch with you when I hear from
Fionn
and
Conall
.” Their discussion could be taken as anything since they never spoke in specifics. He set the device down and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling window in his office. “Remember, Danny Boy and I have a separate arrangement.”
“However you need to get the job done.” Shannon’s face grew large on the screen. “Some things that need my attention have come up.”
“Later.” Kieran hovered his finger over the tablet.
“Yeah.” The screen faded to black.
His office was on the twelfth floor of the Prudential Building overlooking Newbury Street. On paper, O’Shea and Partners was a prestigious law firm. He snorted. They handled local celebrity divorces and represented the top area business, but that was a cover for who he truly wanted to help. The city’s underbelly, gangsters, thieves, men like himself who walked the shady area between right and wrong. People like his brothers and to a certain extent his friends.
Kieran stared into the bright blue, cloudless sky. Who was he kidding? There was no honor among criminals. Other than his siblings, he gave less than a damn if someone served time. It was, however, bad business to lose cases, so he and the other attorneys busted ass to keep folks out of prison. It was a win/win situation for him. He could help Shannon,
Conall
and
Fionn
with legal matters--protect them from the bullshit laws they tended to break. At the same time, it allowed him to lead his family in a new direction--legitimacy. Business was a cutthroat affair anyway and to a certain degree even upstanding corporations sometimes dipped their toes into illegal matters. His job was to make sure they didn’t get caught, and, if they did, to get the bastards the hell off without repercussions. If he could do that for strangers, handling that for his siblings was a cakewalk. His competitive nature and desire to win along with the long list of crooks that kept him on retainer earned him a reputation that was less than stellar. Who gave a shit? In the end, he was the best and, good or bad, the first one called when someone was in trouble.
He didn’t hide his family relations, or his ties to the
area’s
less desirable personalities. They were a part of him, connections that had a part in molding him into the man he’d become. The core of his personality was born of hatred and abuse that he learned to mask at an early age. It was the things he learned later that might actually have helped him develop a conscience--sort of. Shit taught to him by watching shady motherfuckers like Roscoe that overrode the psychopathic tendencies ingrained in him by his father. Both men were lawbreakers, but there were hundreds of shades of difference between them.
Roscoe was his father’s errand boy and sometime-driver, a true con artist. Years ago, as an adolescent, he’d worked up the nerve to ask about Paddy. The older man explained his da by telling him a story that summed up Paddy O’Shea and put a neat little bow on him. From that day on he kept close to Roscoe, who would secretly take him to visit his mother, Fiona. Until Danny Sullivan found out and put both him and Roscoe in the hospital for weeks. In those days, the hate cultivated by the abuse of him and his brothers birthed an idea that he had been planning for twenty-plus years. To kill a snake, cut off its head. To shut down Paddy O’Shea’s organization was just as simple. His
da
had to die. The scheme was started with a parable.
***
Lanky and tall, Kieran had a hard time keeping his pants up, and they kept falling below his waist as he ran or home. His heavy book bag pounded his back with every step. He’d caught a later bus than his brothers, and now he would pay for it. Danny Boy would probably cane him for the minor disobedience. It was worth it though. He had a tutor for his government class, and she was hot. For months he’d been trying to think of ways to approach her. He didn’t need help with his studies, but getting close to the girl had become his personal obsession. Seeing her alone on a regular basis was worth the beating he was sure to receive. He slowed to a stop.
A black sedan was parked outside the small house he lived in with his brothers. Old man O’Shea must be there, checking on his investments. That’s what the bastard called him and his siblings. Briefly, anger sizzled, twisting his gut. The SOB had him taken from his mother and dropped into a hellish existence for no other reason than the fact that he’d been born. Why were they being punished? Roscoe sat in the driver’s side with the door open and a cigarette drooping from between his lips. Smoke spiraled up from the tip where the thin paper burned.
Kieran stopped. He’d been talking to the man whenever Paddy visited. It was Roscoe who offered to take him to his mother every once in a while. A secret meeting that only the three of them knew about. That was why he trusted the driver. Questions had been building in his mind, and he’d voiced them but Roscoe never answered. Luck was on his side today; maybe he would finally get the truths he was seeking.
“Hey, Roscoe.” Kieran stared at the cig.
Roscoe smiled, pulled it from his lips and dropped it on the ground. He twisted his foot, grinding it beneath his shoe. “Don’t get any ideas--this shit is bad for your health. You’re late today?
Ain’t
you worried about that ass whooping you
gonna
get?”
“I knew what I was doing when I did it.” Kieran shrugged.
“You a dumb shit.”
“Sometimes.” Kieran leaned on the back door. “Can I ask you a question?”
“No one’s stopping you, but you may not like the answer.” Roscoe peered up at him. Under the sunlight his dark skin shined.
“Who exactly is Paddy O’Shea and what is he to me and my brothers?” His heart sped up in anticipation of an answer. He held the dark gaze of the older driver.
“Let me tell you a story.” Roscoe exhaled. “A river was over overflowing its banks and the lowlands were flooding. A scorpion came out its den and searched for a way to reach higher ground. A turtle passed him, going about his business, heading for the hills beyond the river. The scorpion stopped him and asked for a ride on his back. The turtle said no. You’re a scorpion--you might sting me. The scorpion shook his head. Never. You’re helping me. Why would I sting you? I can’t swim. If you’re stung we’ll both die. They went on like this for hours with the waters steadily rising. Finally the turtle gave in and allowed the scorpion to crawl onto his shell. Halfway across the water the scorpion stung him. The turtle glanced back at the scorpion and asked why with his last breath. The scorpion stared at him and never wavered in his answer. Because I am a scorpion, and it’s in my nature.”
“I don’t understand.” Kieran shook his head, drawing his brows together.
“Paddy O’Shea cannot be defined by words. Watch his actions. You should know his nature and understand what to expect.” Roscoe closed his mouth with an audible snap.
He didn’t get the clear-cut answer he was hoping for. “I still don’t get it.”
“You will one day. Since you’re already prepared for your punishment, want to go visit Fiona?”
“Yeah.” Excitement replaced his confusion. His mom was the bright spot in his life, and visiting her was the secret he would take to the grave. The one confidence he kept from his brothers.
“Get in. I
gotta
get back quick, so I’ll drop you off.”
He jumped into the back seat, sinking below the window so he wouldn’t be seen. The pristine white leather was soft under his palm. No way could his punishment overshadow his day. He giggled to himself several times and slid back and forth across the seat, watching traffic speed by. The ride ended way too soon.
Roscoe pulled in between the massive gates and parked close to the back door. He stretched an arm along the front seat and spun around. “Don’t stay too long. I don’t want your death on my hands.”
“Danny Boy
ain’t
killed me yet.” He thrust the door open and scampered out, rushing to the back door.
It was unlocked so he strolled in. “Mom…Fiona?” He checked the rooms as he hurried down the hallway. “Mom?” She usually answered him quickly when he was able to sneak away. The house was ominously quiet.
He walked faster, running up the stairs. He’d never been to the second floor before and had no idea what room was what. Along the long hallway all the doors were closed. One after the other he opened them. Panic set in, making his chest hurt. His mom rarely left the house.
She was a beautiful woman who’d emigrated from Ireland to be with his father. Her hair was dark as a raven’s wing, and she had eyes so blue, gazing into them was like staring up at a clear blue sky. She was pale and thin to the point of being gaunt. He always worried if she ate enough. Fiona spoke with soft voice that was sometimes hard to understand due to her Irish brogue. He never visited for long, happy most times just to see her. She’d promised to tell him who his
da
was when he was old enough.
Kieran shoved open the last door. Closed shades created darkness, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. His mother was sprawled out on the floor, her light yellow nightgown spread around her. She was face down, and her long hair framed her head like a halo. He didn’t think--he acted, running to her and yanking her into his lap. She didn’t respond to his calls as he shook her. Her head lolled from one side to the other, and her skin was clammy to the touch. A sickening stench made him scrunch his nose. A putrid brown fluid with chunks of what looked like fruit was spread across the carpet where her head had been. He glanced at her hands. The brown goo was caked under her fingernails and smeared across her palms. Her eyes were closed; thick lashes shadowed her high cheekbones.
She was gone. He knew what death looked like. He’d seen Danny Boy and a few other crewmembers beat a man until dead. Watched the men kill others who were in debt to them for one reason or another. Pain seized his chest, and he gulped air into his lungs. He had to call for help. Gently he lowered his mother to the floor and rose, running to the nightstand. Various-sized pill bottles littered the surface of the furniture, and all the caps were off. Some were on the floor. A few were stacked on top of each other. A couple of containers were lying on their side with white medicine scattered next to them. He shoved everything to the side, sending items flying off the furniture piece. There wasn’t a phone.
After checking the other stand, he sprinted from the room. Maybe Roscoe was still there. Racing through the house, he arrived at the back door and snatched it open. Danny Boy blocked the exit, staring down at him.
“This is where you run off to, you little shit.” Danny yanked him outside by the collar. “After everything I’ve done to raise you—you--
you
ungrateful bastard come crying home to Mama. A woman that didn’t want you!” He shook him, violently.
Kieran tugged at Danny’s arms, struggling to look around. He caught a glimpse of Paddy’s sedan but he didn’t see Roscoe. “Please, Danny. My mom. Call the ambulance!” The toes of his shoes scraped the concrete as he swung his legs.
“No one can help her now.” Paddy’s enforcer reared his arm back and punched Kieran in the nose.
The crack of bone connecting with Danny’s fist reverberated through his head, and the sharp sting that followed brought tears to his eyes. His vision blurred, and he blinked several times to clear it. A metallic taste flowed across his tongue. He spit, and red dots splattered his tormentor’s face.
“Are you stupid? You must have inherited it from your sorry-ass mother.” Danny dropped Kieran and wiped a hand down his face.
Kieran peered up at the large man. Shadowed by the bright sunlight surrounding him, Danny was some demon rising up from hell. Fear skittered down his spine. He scampered back, bits of debris jabbing into his palm.
“Answer me, retard. Of your brothers you’re the dumbest.” Danny kicked him. “Even they know when to retreat, but you? You have to keep pushing. I’m going to teach you, boy, when to give up.”
The blow stung his ribs. He curled in on himself to protect his middle. Kieran was struck in the chest, arms and thighs. Balling up into the fetal position, he ducked his head just as Danny jumped and stomped.