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To me, the house was more sentimental than anything else. But let’s get real, it wasn’t winning any Home and Garden awards anytime soon.
“Did you grow up in Detroit?” I ventured, curious in spite of my own objections.
“Born and raised.”
“So, how'd you get into fighting?”
He shrugged. “The way most guys do. Not a lot of options, school wasn't my thing and I was pretty good at punching people.”
“Do you like punching people?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you enjoy punching Davonte?”
He paused for a long moment. Maybe he wasn’t going to answer. Damon surprised me with a small grin, admitting, “Yeah, I did. Felt good.”
Well, at least that was something. “I’m jealous.”
Damon filled a glass with water, chugged it down and then took a seat on the sofa. “All right, so what's this big plan of yours?”
If he felt a hint of the awkwardness that I did after being so intimate, he didn’t show it. I tried to follow his lead by staying on track, giving my mind something to focus on.
“You know that Davonte keeps his women scattered throughout the neighborhoods. I say we find one of the women he's discarded and see if she wants to help bring him down. Men are notorious for sharing details they shouldn’t after they’ve gotten laid.”
“How would you know, Little Miss Virgin?”
Oh, why’d he have to say that? Damon knowing my personal business just felt wrong.
I blushed but narrowed my gaze. “Because I’m observant. And it’s just human nature. Besides, I haven’t been living under a rock, you know.”
Damon looked impressed for a brief second but it cleared within seconds as he leaned forward, pinning me with his stare.
“You want me to chase after a bunch of pissed off women in the hopes that one of them will want to screw over Davonte as much as you?”
He shook his head as if I were stupid and he found that disappointing. “Woman, you're not very good at this strategy shit.”
“Who are you to judge? I hardly think your plan to drink yourself to death is much to write home about.”
“I wasn’t drinking myself to death,” he grumbled. “I was…feeling sorry for myself. There’s a difference.”
“Not from where I’m standing.” Frustration laced my tone. I wasn’t going to argue about pointless things. “All right, fine. I don’t hear you coming up with anything that’s more bulletproof. What’s your plan? Run? You know Davonte will catch us eventually, no matter where we go. It might be a year, it could be five years, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, do you?”
“Of course not. But the reality is I don't put a lot of faith in the hopes that we’re going to find someone who is willing to fuck over Davonte just for the sake of fucking him over. You’re the first chick I’ve ever met who was willing to go against the man. Everyone else kisses his ass. And I guarantee you that if we went to any of the women that he's pushed away they would do anything to get back in his good graces, which includes ratting us out.”
Damon made a certain amount of sense. Still, like I said, I wasn't trafficking in logic and reason right now. I wanted blood and I wanted it now. I didn't care if I died as long as I died taking a piece of Davonte with me.
“Well, I'm going to try,” I said stubbornly. “You never know unless you put yourself out there. There has to be someone who hates Davonte as much as I do. I just need to be careful about how I go about asking.”
“Is it the red hair?” he asked, surprising me with the quick zag. When I blinked in confusion, he clarified, gesturing. “Is it the red hair that makes you stubborn as shit?”
“Maybe.” I lifted my chin. “Or maybe I just don’t like being bullied and pushed around by a total narcissistic asshole who thinks he’s God.”
“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but around here…Davonte is the closest thing to it and there’s no one who’s going to sign on for a suicide mission. Our best bet is to get the fuck outta Dodge, quick.”
I wasn’t going anywhere until I took a piece of Davonte with me. Damon took one look at my mutinous expression and swore under his breath.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he muttered, casting his frustration my way. “And you’re gonna end up in a ditch somewhere if you don’t pull your head outta your ass.”
“If you’re scared, you can walk. Take your chances on your own, I don’t give a shit. But I have my plan and I’m going for it.”
Damon didn’t know me but he would learn real fast. I didn't quit and I didn't give up. Not even when the odds were against me.
Hell, maybe it was stupid.
But I would rather die for something worthwhile than live for nothing at all.
Chapter 13
Davonte
I tapped the blunt end of my finger against the desktop, the ache in the bridge of my nose as it healed a reminder of how that fucker had humiliated me.
I fantasized about how great it was going to feel when I buried a bullet in that fucker’s skull after my men broke his bones.
Yeah, it was enough to get my cock hard.
But I was all about the long game.
Immediate gratification did nothing but get your rocks off in the moment.
I knew the first time I saw Charlie I wanted her.
She was everything a woman should be.
Petite but stacked.
Feisty but delicate.
And I was going to make her my wife.
It’d been a Tuesday when she’d walked into McConnell’s looking for brother, Tommy.
I hadn’t even noticed the kid training — too scrawny, too soft for any kind of real future in the ring — but the kid had wanted it bad.
He’d had that desperate hunger that sometimes made up for lack of talent but Tommy hadn’t been the prize find that day.
Even though her brother had outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, she’d come into the gym all filled with piss and vinegar, ready to drag that kid out by his ear if he didn’t listen.
Some of her red hair had escaped the messy bun to caress her jaw with lazy curls.
God, instant erection.
And at my age, that was saying something.
Don’t get me wrong, I fucked plenty of women. I had a harem of pussy but none of those cunts were marrying material.
What could I say? I guess I was old-fashioned.
It was time for me to settle down, have some kids.
And I wanted Charlie for the job.
I’d tried wooing her.
The little bitch flat out turned me down, returned my gifts and called me a ‘dirty rat bastard’ for being part of what was wrong with Detroit.
I loved a challenge.
But it soon became apparent, Charlie wasn’t going to budge.
I had to show her that I meant business, that it was best for her to open her eyes and see what I was offering.
The kid wasn’t supposed to die.
I just wanted to hurt him a bit to show Charlie what was at stake.
But the kid hadn’t been cut out for the ring.
Hell, Tommy Williams had been doomed from the day he’d walked starry-eyed into McConnell’s.
Was that my fault?
Was I supposed to bear the burden of every stupid kid’s decision?
Fuck that.
I was a businessman and business was good.
Like I said, time to take a wife.
Settle down.
And nothing got my dick hard as stone than thinking of bending my sweet, succulent Charlie over my desk and ramming her so hard her teeth ached.
I wanted to bury myself so deep inside that tight pussy that she screamed with each thrust.
I wanted to wrap my hands in that thick mass of red hair and ride her like a well-trained pony.
My cock swelled painfully.
I unbuckled my pants and pulled my cock free.
Hehehe…not bad for sixt
y-five.
The thick, mushroom head beaded with a tiny drop of precum.
So eager.
In perfect timing, Bonnie came in, sashaying her fat ass over to me. I loved her tits and ass. Most days I fucked her in the backdoor and she fucking loved it.
But today, she was going to suck me dry.
“You haven’t come to see me,” she pouted, coming around the desk, unbuttoning her blouse as she went.
Her giant tits bounced free, hanging like thick, sweet fruit.
She shimmied out of her skirt, revealing that hot ass, a black thong eaten by her buttcrack.
“Show me how much you’ve missed me,” I told her, holding my cock steady for her. “Remind me why I keep you around.”
It was a mean taunt but fuck, I didn’t care. My whores were just wet and ready pussies, no matter how lovely or depraved.
Not like Charlie.
Charlie was pure.
Like a good wife should be.
The minute Bonnie’s lips closed over my cock I closed my eyes, picturing not Bonnie but Charlie sucking me dry.
It didn’t take long before I blew a nut, a healthy spurt of baby batter right into Bonnie’s hot mouth.
She swallowed like a good whore, pleasing me.
“I’ve missed you,” Bonnie purred, wiping her mouth with a slow, lazy motion, drawing attention back to her pouty lips. “No one can give it to me like you, baby.”
I chuckled, caressing her jaw absently.
