Til death, p.9
Til Death, p.9Bella Jewel
“I’m in your house,” Pierre hisses, low. “To warn you to back the fuck off my operations.”
“You’re signing a fuckin’ death warrant if you think you can come in here and tell me what to do,” Marcus snarls.
“That fuckin’ job was mine. You and your men came in and fucked it. I don’t take kindly to people fucking around with my jobs. I kill for less, Marcus.”
My mind begins to swim and suddenly, I can’t feel my legs. I collapse, and Marcus’ arm tightens around me just before I pass out completely.
Katia goes limp in my arms. Fuck me. I slowly lower her to the ground, and she goes without even a flinch. I look up at her father, fuck, her father, and glare. “Why the fuck are you comin’ into my home, pissin’ my wife off, and demanding shit that you don’t have a right to demand?”
He’s staring at Katia. His face is blank, but there’s emotion in his eyes. Deep emotion. He didn’t fuckin’ know about her—fuck. Slowly he lifts his eyes to me. “You fucked with my business, my men and my trade, Tandem. I don’t play fuckin’ nice with bastards who mess with my shit.”
“And what I don’t play fuckin’ nice with, is men like you,” I snarl, stepping over Katia and charging towards him.
In a split second, he lifts a gun and points it at me. Motherfucker.
“Is that my fuckin’ daughter?” he barks.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
“What’s her mother’s name?”
His face flashes. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“Put your fuckin’ gun down, or so help me—”
“Why are you married to my daughter?”
I snort. “With all due respect, Pierre, you didn’t know she was your daughter until five minutes ago. You don’t get to know shit.”
His eyes flick to her, then to me. “I’m not going to kill you here, because I want to know her.” He waves his gun at Katia. “But let me warn you, Marcus. Your boys don’t get out of my business, I’ll bring you down, married to my daughter or not.”
“Is that a threat?” I hiss.
He tucks his gun in his pants, looks at Katia once more and growls, “It’s a promise.”
Then he turns and leaves.
I spin to Katia, lean down and lift her over my shoulder before charging into the offices. Candy, her noisy, babble-mouthed friend sees her thrown over my shoulder and starts chasing me, crying out and talking fucking shit. I spin to her with a glare. “Candice,” I spit. “She just had her father come to the door. Shit is bad. I got a call to make. Stay the fuck outta my way.”
Then I step into my office, throw Katia onto the couch and lift my phone. I dial.
“Ulio, I just had Pierre at my fuckin’ door.”
“What?” he snarls. “Why the fuck did that fucker come to your house?”
“He wants me out of the picture, and he’s a big player in that picture. He’s got the resources to be a threat.”
“Then we fuckin’ eliminate him.”
I exhale loudly. “Except he’s my wife’s father.”
“What did you fuckin’ say?”
“You heard me.”
“Is she in on this?”
I glance at Katia. “Considerin’ she’s passed out on my couch from shock at seeing him for the first time, I’m gonna go with no.”
“Where does that leave us?”
“In a world of shit.”
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“Give me time to process this shit, and then I’ll get back to you.”
“No problems, boss.”
I hang up the phone just as Katia stirs. Her eyes flicker open and point directly towards me and I can see her hurt.
“Close your eyes, Katia.”
Beautiful eyes flutter closed and I spin her towards the car.
“Don’t open them until I say.”
“Where are you taking me?” she asks.
I scoff. “Katia, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you that.”
A soft giggle escapes her lips. Fuckin’ sweet lips. “No, you’re right.”
“Just do as you’re told,” I tell her in a firm voice.
She nods and I open her door, sliding her inside. She puts her seatbelt on and I walk around to the driver’s side. I start the car and head towards our destination. Katia and I have been seeing each other for six months now, and it’s time. I know she’s fallen for me and I can’t hold off any longer. I need her to accept my proposal before Walter moves in.
I take us to a secluded beach, where I paid good money to have a table set up. A man holding a bottle of wine is standing by the table lit with candles, and I nod at him as I get out of the car. I move around to Katia’s side, opening the door. I stare down at her, and I wish my heart felt some sort of remorse. But there’s none. I’m doing what I have to do, and she’s only benefiting from it.
“Time to get out,” I say to her, running my finger down her cheek. It’s a shame; she really is such a beautiful girl. Inside and out.
“Where are we?” she asks. “Is that the sound of waves?”
“It is. Come.”
I take her hand and lead her to the table. When her feet hit the sand, she moans and stops to wiggle her toes, which are painted with bright pink polish. “I love the sand.” She sighs. Her blond hair whips around her face as I near the table. Stopping, I lean down and murmur into her ear, “Surprise.”
Then she opens her eyes.
And when she gasps?
I know I’ve won.
Oh. My. God.
It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s everything.
There are times I’ve doubted Marcus, and even more times he’s made me wonder if this is nothing more to him than sex. Of course he’s done some wonderful things throughout, and we’ve been exclusive for months now, but he’s a hard man to crack. But this, oh man, this proves that Marcus is deeper than I’d thought.
Maybe he even cares about me the way I care about him?
“Marcus,” I breathe.
“Welcome,” a tall man in a tuxedo greets us.
I stare at the table, decked out with candles and roses. The background is the crashing blue waves, lit only by the moonlight against the shore. So freaking, beautiful. Tears well in my eyes and I reach over, curling my fingers in Marcus’s. He leads me around and pulls out a chair, I sit down.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I whisper.
He leans down, brushing his lips across my ear. “I’m never what you think, Katia.”
No he isn’t.
“Champagne?” the waiter offers.
“Please.” I smile up at him.
He pours us both a glass, then tells Marcus he’ll fetch the first course. I have no idea where he’s going to get it from, and frankly, I don’t care. This is perfect.
“What did I do to deserve all this?” I ask, sipping the champagne.
Marcus stares over at me, his brown eyes suddenly intense. He looks beautiful beneath the moonlight, his dark hair curling around the collar of his white, button-up shirt. He’s not wearing a tie tonight—instead the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing his gorgeous chest. He looks edible. Perfection.
“You deserve all you believe you deserve,” he murmurs.
He stares at me, right into my eyes, and suddenly I feel nervous.
“Marcus?” I breathe.
“I’m just going to come out and say this, Katia,” he murmurs. “I told you once I was a man who knew what he wanted, and I didn’t hold back. The time has come for me to take another step, because I know what I want.”
“And what I want is you.”
“Me?” I whisper. “Why me?”
“We’ve been over this before,” he says, his voice low and deep.
“I still don’t understand it.”
He leans in close, reaching across the table and taking my hand. His finger begins tracing light circles in my palm. “You don’t need to understand; you just need to accept it. Will you, Katia?”
My heart is pounding.
“Will I what?”
Oh. My. God.
Oh. My. GOD.
Marcus Tandem wants to marry me.
There’s only one thing I can do.
My heart aches.
It feels as if it’s being ripped from my chest. Marcus stares down at me, his eyes carefully blank. I push up from the couch, hurt, confused, but most of all needing answers. Why was my father here? Why did he threaten Marcus? What do the two of them have to do with one another?
“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, his voice careful.
“Why was my father here, Marcus?”
He stares at me, not showing a damned ounce of emotion.
“Well?” I cry, sitting up.
“I knew him a while ago.”
He’s lying to me. I can see it. I can feel it.
“You’re lying to me,” I whisper, my bottom lip trembling.
“Sometimes people lie to protect; maybe that’s what I’m doing here. Protecting you.”
“And maybe,” I yell, jumping off the couch and spinning to the point I have to reach out and hold it to stop myself passing out, “you’re lying to protect yourself.”
“Oh, fuck you!”
He flinches, but stands, holding his temper like he always fucking does. He never gets wildly angry, or screams at me. He’s always so damned calm. Like he has no emotion.
“Enough,” he warns.
“Or what, Marcus? You’ll lie to me some more? You’ll kick me out? Go right the fuck ahead. My father just showed up on your doorstep. I have to explain that to my mother now and you’re—”
He moves like lightning, taking hold of my arm and hauling me up against his body. “You will not tell your mom a damned thing.”
“Excuse me?” I breathe, staring into those intense brown eyes.
“He’s a dangerous man, Katia. If you must have something, have that. Your mom wouldn’t be safe.”
“How would you know he’s a dangerous man? Are you a dangerous man?”
“What’s going on?”
“None of your concern.”
“I’m your wife!” I scream.
“That still doesn’t make it your concern.”
Anger builds up and spills over. I shove his chest so hard he takes a few steps back. “Fuck you, Marcus Tandem. Fuck. You.”
Then I turn and run out the door. He calls my name but I don’t stop.
Fuck it all.
“Honey,” Dusty says, leaning against the brick wall beside me. “This is going to rock!”
I grin over at him, far beyond drunk. My phone has rung twenty-three times, exactly. Twenty of those calls are from Marcus, which is kind of nice, considering he never tries to chase me up, and the other three are from Candy. My guess? He rang her and now she wants to know where I am.
I know it will upset her, that I didn’t go directly to her, but I needed someone who would allow me to just vent and let my hair down. Dusty is awesome for that. The moment I arrived and told him what happened, he bundled me up and took me out. We did shots, danced and now we’re plastered against a brick wall, him lighting a joint. Yep, I’m smoking it. No, I don’t care.
“I’ve never smoked a joint.” I giggle.
“Ohhhhh,” he chirps. “You’re going to love it.”
He leans down, pressing the small, twisted joint to his mouth. He lights it and inhales deeply. The unique smell washes over me and I cough slightly. Dusty takes another pull and passes it to me. I stare at it for too long, obviously, because he thrusts it into my hand. “Trust me, girl!”
Shrugging, I take it and bring it to my lips. I inhale deeply. The smoke hits my lungs and I cough. Holy mother. I inhale again, cough again, and pass it back to Dusty.
Within ten minutes, I’m giggling hysterically, arms thrown around Dusty. He’s laughing too, swaying with me as we stumble towards the street.
“Oh my God, this is awesome!” I cry.
“Totally. Oh my God, look at the flower.”
I lean down and touch the hot pink petals of the stunning flower. Dusty and I both study it, oohing and ahhing as we stroke the petals. So pretty.
“I’m hungry,” Dusty says suddenly.
My stomach growls. “Me too.”
Another ten minutes later we’re sitting, pizza box open, scoffing it down as if we’ve been starved for a week. I can usually only eat two slices but tonight, I go four. My phone rings again as I’m licking my fingers. Giggling, I press the answer button and hold it to my ear.
“Katia,” Marcus barks. “Where are you?”
“Where. The. Fuck. Are. You?”
“Why are you always so angry?” I giggle.
“Fuck it, Katia. You’re drunk.”
“And high, Huzzy.”
Oops. That was meant to be hubby.
“I would, but you’re not here. You could come here, and we could do it . . . right now.”
“Fuck. Where are you?”
“Ohhhh, Hubby is horny.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Katia, focus. Where are you?”
“Where are we, Dusty?”
Dusty yells out the name of the pizza place and Marcus tells me not to move, he’ll be there soon.
“You’re totally going to have stoner sex.” Dusty giggles, shoving my shoulder.
“Oh my God, that sounds so fun!”
Marcus arrives twenty minutes later in his SUV. He pulls to the curb and gets out, striding over. He takes one look at me, and sighs loudly. “Fuckin’ hell.”
“Hello Marcus.” I grin up at him. “How’s it—” hiccup, “—hanging?”
“Get up. Get in the car.”
“Are we going to do it in the car?” I squeal, leaping up.
“No we are not.”
I pout, crossing my arms. “Why?”
He just stares at me. How rude.
“Dusty, you got a way home?” he asks Dusty.
“Yeah, bro, I’m cool.”
“Good,” he mutters, then turns to me. “Get in the car.”
I spin, hugging Dusty before throwing myself into Marcus’s car. I lean over, turning up the music. He climbs in, slapping my hand away and turning it down. Fun wrecker. I turn to him, and start singing loudly instead.
“Katia,” he warns. “Stop.”
“You don’t know how to have fun, do you?” I taunt.
He flicks a glare at me before focusing back on the road.
“I bet you’ve never even smoked weed.”
We’re just out of the city so he skids the car to a stop. I giggle loudly as he spins towards me, curling his fingers around the back of my neck and pulling me close. He holds my eyes, his eyes intense, then he murmurs, “You want to have fun, precious? I’ll give you fun.”
Then he reaches down, shuffling about, before coming up with a joint. My mouth drops open.
“Where did you get that?”
He smirks, but says nothing. He just puts it to his lips, lights it up and inhales deeply. Oh boy, that’s hot. He does this twice more, and then blows the smoke out slowly, filling the car. Sexy. Fuck me. I reach out for it but he shakes his head. “No, precious. You’ve h
Then he leans forward and he kisses me. Deep. Hard.
There’s something different about the way we want each other tonight. It’s probably the weed—whatever it is, it’s hot. Marcus drags me over to the back seat, then he puts me over his lap, making me straddle him. His fingers curl into my hair and he tugs harshly, causing a little cry to leave my throat.
“You like being bad, Katia?”
“Yes,” I mewl.
“How bad do you want to be?”
“Fucking bad, Marcus. Fucking. Bad.”
He rumbles low, deep in his chest, and reaches down between us, jerking his pants down and freeing his cock. “Suck me. Use your teeth. Make it hard.”
I drop to the floor, curling my fingers around the base of his cock. I swirl my tongue around it a few times, before taking him deep into my mouth. I graze my teeth up and down, sucking hard, jerking him with my hand.
“Harder,” he growls. “Bite me.”
I bite him softly and he roars with pleasure. I do this more, pressing my teeth into his flesh. His fingers tug at my hair, and the painful sting from his actions radiates through my head but I don’t care. I love it. I want more. I’m just getting into it when he hauls me up and throws me down on the seat. I land on my hands and knees and he jerks my hips up, shoving my dress around my shoulders.
Then he rips my panties aside and buries his face in my pussy, from behind.
“Marcus,” I scream, jerking my hips, pushing my ass into his face and not caring.
His fingers bite into the skin at my hip as he roughly handles me, fucking me with his tongue, sucking my clit, torturing me. Then he releases my hip and slides a finger into my ass. I arch, screaming loudly as I come. Fuck, do I come.
“Motherfucker,” he breathes. “Sweet.”
Then I’m being swung around again, I’m over his lap and he’s thrusting deep inside me. He fucks me hard for five pumps, then he slides me off and demands, “Suck yourself off me. Taste it. Lick my cock.”
I drop to my knees again, my pussy pulsing, as I close my lips around his cock. I can taste myself in the dampness that is coating him and it’s hot. He growls, cupping my face and sliding my head up and down as I take him all in.
Til Death by Bella Jewel / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes