Sitting on a couch, a drink in one hand, and some bitch in a low-cut dress damn near on my knee, I tune out her constant yappin’ and bullshit with Buck. Well, I fucking try to, but she keeps talking about her dress—where she got it and how hard it was to get on. I don’t fucking care about her goddamn dress. She could be on fire and I wouldn’t give a shit. First, it’s the dress, and next it’s her shoes. I can’t do it anymore, not with this bitch anyway.
“Listen, you can sit here and get me drinks and shit, but shut the fuck up while you do it,” I groan, tired of her voice, which sounds an awful lot like nails on a goddamn chalkboard.
Buck chuckles, head shaking.
“Sorry,” she giggles, clutching her pink drink. “Tequila makes me chatty and horny.” She looks at me. Like I fucking care. Alcohol or not, if I wanted some pussy from her she’d hand it over, no questions asked.
“Jesus, these females,” Buck mutters, giving the bitch the side-eye when she giggles again about nothing. The girl’s about twelve cells shy of a functioning brain.
I have no comment for that because the only bitch I can stand is Samantha, and that’s not saying a lot. She gives me a run for my damn money most of the time. “Her house, got a lot of neighbors?” I ask Buck, getting a little backstory on Sam.
“A couple. She’s on a cul-de-sac in that new development up by the hospital. Last house at the end.”
“Wooded area behind her place or more houses?”
“I live in an apartment,” Botox Barbie butts in, still giggling. The bitch is bouncy, looking like she’s stroking out. Jesus fucking Christ.
Tossing back the rest of the liquid in my glass, I shove the empty at her. “Get up. I need another drink.” I’m done hearing her voice.
I don’t even know what the fuck she’s doing sitting here. I sat down and so did she. The bitch has been here since.
“Oh,” she mumbles, her smile gone. “What do you want?” She looks at me and then the drink, a stupid glazed look in her eyes.
Fucking annoyed, I shrug. “Don’t care. Need a burger too. And fries.” Anything to get her to go the fuck away.
“Okay,” she agrees, smiling again, her pink lips stretched from ear to ear. “I’ll cook you up something good.” It’s fucking doubtful the bitch can even turn on a microwave, but as long as she leaves, I’m good.
Buck laughs. “Grab me a refill too, yeah?”
She takes both of our glasses and smiles, perking back up. “Yeah. Be right back.”
“Take your time.” Jesus fuck, please take your fucking time. Get lost. Find another guy. I don’t care what you do, just get the fuck away from me.
“Anyway, I gotta go over there, look around. Know anything about her security?” Because I know damn well Danny Boy hooked her up with something.
“Doors and windows. Linked to the cops and here. Nothin’ more than we usually do because fuck knows we don’t usually have this issue.”
I have no doubt Danny set her up, but I’m guessin’ it’s not enough now.
Talkin’ shop, security, and strategies to find this fucker with the yappy bitch damn near on my lap again, the front door opens and in walks Samantha.
Swear to fucking Christ, I feel her before I fucking see her. The woman’s like a tsunami. Fierce. Wild. Unpredictable. And deadly.
Her eyes find me immediately and she glares. Hard. The princess doesn’t look happy to see me. In fact, she looks downright murderous.
Fuck me.
Giving me a little one finger wave with her middle finger, she walks right on by, muttering, “Prick,” veiled as a half-assed cough.
Here we go.
Pushing fake boob Barbie off my lap, I get up and follow Samantha, who’s hustling her sexy ass away from me, through the club, as fast as fucking possible.
“Walkin’ pretty fast there, baby.” I laugh when she lets the hall door swing shut right into me.
The bitch is playing hard today.
“Go back to your slut,” she barks over her shoulder, still walking. I fuck other bitches when I’m not here, but when I’m here, it’s always Samantha. Only the princess, and she fucking knows it. She can play this little game, act wounded and hurt, but Sam knows the score. She can be the victim and I’ll play the bad guy.
“Nah. I’m more interested in you,” I tell her lightly, enjoying her frown.
“I’m not here to see you, King,” she snaps, walking down the back hall, heels clicking on the old wood. Fuck, those heels would look good wrapped around my head.
“No shit, baby. The way you disappeared yesterday mornin’ spelled that shit out.”
Woke up to Samantha gone, the bed cold and my dick limp. The bitch pulled a runner on me and I haven’t seen her since. I don’t like that shit. Not when it comes to her.
“Where you been?” I ask her, pretending not to know.
Samantha thinks she clever, trying to duck and dodge me. There’s nowhere on this fucking planet she could hide from me. Not her dad’s house, and not Ellison and Rock’s place. The bitch can try, but I’ll always find her, yet it’ll be fun to hear the lie she’ll spin to try and cover her tracks.
“Here and there,” she says dismissively, a nasty smile on her face. She wants to fight.
“Oh yeah? You have fun spendin’ the night here and there with Ellison?”
Her eyes narrow and her mouth snaps shut. I got her.
“Fuck you,” she spits, her chin lifted in defiance. Wow, that was a clever comeback.
“Okay.” I shrug. If she wants some dick she knows I’ll give it to her. She’s only threatening me with a good time.
She laughs, sounding a little unhinged. “You lied to me, King.”
“Oh yeah? Kinda like you just did?”
Stopping, she turns on her heels with her hands on her hips. “Yeah, shocker. You lied.” The sarcastic little shit.
“I am?”
“Liar, liar,” she mocks.
“Cute.”
Jesus, I could do this shit with Samantha all goddamn day. She’s sexy as fuck in her tight black slacks and lacy little tank under some matching jacket deal. All business and class. Makes me want to shove her against the wall and stick my tongue in her cunt and a finger in her ass. Ya know, make her feel dirty.
But that shit ain’t gonna happen. Not with the way she’s staring at me. Not unless I tear her pants off and hold her ass down. Because the woman is mad, and when she’s mad she’s mean, and when she’s mean, we all pay.
“What’d I lie about?”
“Told me you were here for the run, when in reality, you’re here to “save” me from my stalker.” She uses fucking air quotes, like I couldn’t save her ass. Like I wouldn’t.
“I’m not here to save you because there’s no savin’ you, baby. Here to put an end to a problem.” I couldn’t save Samantha even if I rode in on a white horse in a suit of armor, wielding a fucking sword. The bitch is so far beyond saving, it’s comical. Too independent. Too strong. Too smart. Too goddamn tough. But I’m here to keep her alive and breathing, and I take that seriously.
She scoffs. “Whatever. I’m fine. That guy hasn’t been around for a while. I’m good.”
“You’re good?” I tease, walking toward her. She’s anything but good. A mess? Sure. Crazy? Hell fucking yes. Good? Not even close.
Her hair is in some tight little knot at the back of her head. I kinda want to tear it out of that clip and bury my fingers in it while she sucks my dick. “How good are you, Sam?” I ask her, stalking her.
“I’m here to drop some paperwork off with my dad, that’s all.” Hand on my chest, she stops my advance. “Not play games with you.”
Games? That’s all we seem to be fucking playing.
“Seemed like you were playin’ games when you slipped outta my bed yesterday,” I say, crowding her.
“King—” she starts, but I keep talking.
“Don’t do that shit again. I’ll tell you when I’m done with you,” I growl, irritated just thinking about her ass leaving my bed. Backing her toward the wall, I ask, “You feel me? You leave my bed when I tell you to.”
She wouldn’t be Samantha if she didn’t fight back. She bucks up, back straight and shoulders high. The princess is ready for battle. She points her manicured finger at me. “No, King. I do whatever I fucking want to. You don’t own me. You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Her arms are crossed and her chin’s up. “You’re not my old man.” That’s fucking laughable.
“I don’t want to be your old man, baby,” I tell her, pressing her into the wall with my body. She can run, but she can’t hide. She can fight me off all she wants, but when she melts into my touch, her eyes glazing, I know I’ve got her where I want her. “I just want your pussy.” I tell her, my hand on her chest, between her tits. My thumb rubbing against her tit. “Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”
I’m a fucking sucker, though. I’m as bad as she is. I should be worried about tracking her stalker, but here I am, focused solely on her body and the shit I want to do with it.
I’ve got her up against the wall, just where I want her.
Tugging at the deep cut on her tank with a finger, I free one tit, the plump, soft skin bouncing a little. Leaning down, I suck a nipple into my mouth.
Sam moans, sagging into me. “Fuck, King.” One hand in my hair and the other gripping my jaw, she keeps my head steady and right where she wants it. The girl knows what she wants from me and she lets me know. Always.
Biting on her nipple, my fingers find the button on her pants and pop it open, looking for the prize. The princess bats my hand away. “No.”
Grabbing her hand with mine, I pin it against the wall above her head, looking into her hard eyes. “Yes.”
“I hate you,” she whispers as I slide my hand down the front of her pants.
In the back hall, right outside her dad’s office door, dressed from head to toe, I suck on the princess’s tits while playing with her juicy pussy.
I do shit I shouldn’t when I’m around this bitch. She messes with my mind. Chews me up and spits me out.
I just want to get inside of her body. Fuck her so hard I hurt her.
Jesus Christ, she makes me crazy.
Licking my way up her chest, finger fucking her, Sam stops me out of nowhere, jerking away from me.
I don’t like that shit.
“Stop,” she pants, breathing hard. “I’m not doing this shit with you.” Leaning her ass back against the wall, she takes a deep breath. My hand is still in the waist of her pants, but out of her cunt, wet and cold.
Sighing, I lean my forehead on her chest, fucking frustrated. “But we keep fuckin’ doin’ it.”
“Yeah, and it’s a problem.”
“It’s your body, baby.” It’s always been hers. Her curves. The way her ass jiggles and tits bounce. The way she fucking melts when I touch her. The way she looks at me. The way she feels, smells, and tastes. She’s all-fucking-consuming.
Pushing my head off her chest, she glares and rights her tank, stepping away from me. “I’m leaving,” she tells me, seeming uncomfortable. “Don’t follow me.”
That’s not gonna happen, but I let her go, liking the chase.