After the Fall (The Fallen Men 4)
“Fuck, my girl loves it dirty,” I grunted as I surged up, her virginal white dress wrapped in one fist, the other wrapped around my dick as I jerked it brutally.
She watched, holdin’ me close by the shoulders but far enough away she could see the angry red crown of my cock start leakin’ down my fist. I took a moment to smear my hands across her wet sex, collectin’ her cum to lube the glide of my hand over my dick, and she sighed longingly, like the sight was the best she’d ever seen.
“Love your cock, King,” she murmured in affirmation, lickin’ those lips, lids heavy from the weight of her desire, absolutely wrecked by passion. “Can’t wait to feel your hot cum on me.”
That did it.
With a muted roar, neck arched back, tendons strainin’, my balls seized, and I came. Bent my head in time to see the first burst of seed land on her bared belly, the second on her smooth pubic bone, the third a hot splash against her clit.
“Fuck me,” I grunted as I shuddered and pulled the last drops from my sensitive cock, watchin’ them drop to the grass.
Collapsin’ against her, careful to keep our groins apart, I fisted a hand in her hair and kissed her. She moaned, lappin’ sweetly at my tongue to share the taste of us.
“Beautiful,” I told her, overwhelmed by her perfection. “The way you give yourself to me, Cress, gotta say, nothin’ sexier, nothin’ more sacred to me than that.”
She smiled, and it was a sweet, almost shy thing that made my heart ache with the beauty of it. “Only ever for you.”
“Fuck yeah,” I agreed, possession and primal pride surgin’ through me. “Only for me ever again.”
We grinned at each other like drunkards, like loons liquored up on love and life. Felt so happy it seemed sinful, like God would reach down from the sky and strike me dead for bein’ so content and fulfilled on an excess of each one’a the seven sins.
“Better get back before they send someone looking,” she whispered. “Even though I’m tempted to stay out here together like Adam and Eve in their garden, alone and naked.”
I laughed. “Adam and Eve didn’t end so good, babe. Let’s not liken ourselves too much to them, yeah?”
But I helped her right her dress after one last look at the cum dryin’ on her belly, and fixed the masses of disarrayed curls that tumbled over her shoulders and back. She tucked me back in my pants tenderly, did up my fly like a nun at service tendin’ to her shrine, and then we linked hands to walk back to the party together.
Only when we started walkin’ did we notice the lack of human noise over the music. Somethin’ slithered down my spine like a serpent in the grass, and with a quick look at Cress, we broke into a light jog.
When we broke into the clearin’ around the fire, everyone was still there, but nothin’ was good.
“King Kyle Garro!” Javier Ventura crowed as he stepped forward into the light of the flames wearin’ a tuxedo, arms spread like a host welcomin’ his guest. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
King
* * *
Javier Ventura was the man behind the curtain, the puppetmaster who had pulled the strings of every single villain we’d been up against for the past five years. He was the West Coast leader of a Mexican cartel, and he was the kind of vicious you could feel, an aura of evil intention that waxed the air around him like pollution.
He’d only grinned at us, waitin’ as we stepped closer, and I tracked the goons encirclin’ the party, guns at brothers’ backs and temples, Bea caught in a headlock, one of the babies, Angel, held by a thug who stood beside a silently sobbin’ Loulou.
Fuck.
Somehow, I’d known this day wouldn’t go off without a hitch. People were at their weakest, most vulnerable when celebratin’ and happy. It was why, historically, so many dramas had gone down at weddings.
And now one was goin’ down at mine.
“Don’t remember sendin’ ya an invite,” I said cooly, gently movin’ Cress behind me because I didn’t even want the motherfucker’s eyes on her.
He laughed happily and shrugged. “Must have gotten lost in the mail. That Canadian post really is tragic.”
“What’re you doin’ here?” I asked, unamused.
I saw Priest try to move closer to Bea, Sander edged nearer to Loulou, and resolved to let Javier run his mouth until they could get into position.
“So impolite!” He turned to eye Loulou and scowled. “You were always so much better mannered than these biker heathens. Should’ve stayed with your father and stayed a good girl, Louise.”
“Fuck. You” she snarled, spittin’ at him even though he was out of her reach.
He laughed again, a hyper yip like a hyena.