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Besides, you know when you have this perfect sexual partner in your head? You know their exact body measurements, lips, smile, the rasp of their voice and the exact amount of body hair they have? That was Jade. She was my fantasy. At first I thought I was imagining this, but then my cock slid into her soaking cunt, and all I thought about was fuck, she even had the landing strip. The little patch of shy, short pubic hair that made me go mad.
No one had the landing strip these days. Women went either completely bare or bushy as fuck.
But Jade had it. Because she was perfect.
After I got out of the shower and wore my I-Know-You-Wanna-Fuck-Me suit—it’s the only suit I owned, but it screamed pussy magnet—I walked to the kitchen to grab my measured meal of three hundred grams of chicken breast and five hundred grams of quinoa. It was boring as hell, but that was a small price to pay to be the best fighter in New York. Besides, if I wanted something tasty, I had Jade’s pussy to feast on.
Or so I thought.
Carter walked in just as I was taking out my meal from the microwave, sitting down to the small kitchen table with a bottle of water. Our kitchen overlooked our tiny living room.
Everything was yellow and old and chipped. I didn’t mind. Carter didn’t either. From where we came from, a roof over your head was a fucking blessing. We made pretty decent money. We didn’t have to live in a shithole, but it was more than enough for us.
“Yo.” I stabbed into some chicken and threw it into my mouth. “Where’ve you been?”
“Graham’s.” He slopped into the chair next to me with a sigh. Fucking liar pants on fire. But calling him out on his bullshit was premature. Maybe he was visiting Graham and just stopped for a quick wank in front of Quinn’s window.
“Yeah? What’d he say?” I probed. Carter looked around us helplessly, like he was waiting for someone to jump at him from the hallway or something, then looked down to his hands.
“The Italians burned down his grocery store in Williamsburg.” He swallowed.
“Fuck,” I muttered, putting down my food. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.
“Are we retaliating?” I asked. Carter was much more in the loop when it came to the ins and outs of Graham’s illegal business. Actually, Carter was neck fucking deep in this shit, I didn’t even want to know what he was up to half the time. All I knew was Graham trusted him with his life.
“No, we’re sitting pretty and waiting for them to burn the whole motherfucking kingdom we’ve built here,” Carter snapped before he deadpanned. “Of course we’re fecking retaliating. And we need muscle, so you better get your arse in fighting shape because I reckon we’ll need all the men we can get.”
Was he kidding? I stayed in fighting shape all year round. It was my job. Literally.
Regardless, the whole situation was strange. Graham had never asked me to accompany them to any part of their operations because he knew I preferred it inside the ring and out of the drama. I was always in the shadows, fighting for him, winning for him, losing for him on occasion. But I knew right then and there in our hot as balls tiny kitchen in Brooklyn that I was willing to do whatever it took to help Graham.
“I’ll bump up my shit tomorrow. Bring the guys you need to train to the gym. I’ll make sure they know what they’re doing.”
I sometimes trained Graham’s soldiers, which was fine, I guess. They didn’t have any MMA aspirations, just wanted to be able to defend themselves and inflict as much damage as possible. I mainly focused on Krav Maga and boxing with them for fast results. Carter nodded and got up from his chair, and I couldn’t help it. I just had to be an asshole.
“Hey, Car, been anywhere else other than Graham’s?” I sniffed around, biting down my grin.
He grabbed the back of his chair and looked at me like I jizzed all over his precious clean pillow.
“Where the fuck would I go? No, I went straight back home. Why?”
“No reason.” I shrugged, returning my attention back to my Sad McMeal.
Yeah. Such a fucking stalker.
“There’s my favorite ass in the whole goddamned world,” I greeted Jade when I walked into my office in Hot N’ Bothered. She was already there, sorting out files. She was just straightening her posture after bending down and fishing something from the black file cabinet, allowing me a perfect view of her ass. When she turned around, my heart sank.
“You’re messing up the files on purpose.” Her voice was clipped. She wore tight long skinny jeans—dark—and a white T-shirt. And the worst thing about it was that she looked even hotter than when she wore the skanky waitress clothes. Because now she didn’t only look like a girl I’d like to pound so hard until every inch of her skin was raw, but also like the kind of girl I wanted to take on a date.
And I didn’t do that kind of shit. Ever.
I ignored her question because it was true. I did fuck up all the files and messed with them purposely to give her some work to do. I strode in her direction with an easy smirk on my face.
“I’ve been thinking about eating that pussy of yours again since the moment I left your fine little ass last night. What do you think, am I going to have my dessert today?”
She offered me a polite smile, and when I reached her space, she shoved one of the green folders into my chest and grunted something inaudible. She looked like she was interested in my cock about as much as I was interested in having an Evian water bottle shoved into my asshole.
“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. Lapse of judgment on my part. I was a little tipsy and a lot horny, and it just happened. You’re my boss. It won’t happen again.”
