21. Delancy
Delancy
L ike father, like daughter.
It’s been a week since Gio Lenetti stabbed me with a fork, giving me a scar in the middle of my left palm to match the one Noah gave me on my right.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Literally.
I haven’t seen much of Noah. She’s been staying at her father’s townhouse and riding with him to his office at the gun range in the Bronx. He also has an office in Harlem, yet he takes her to the one furthest away from me.
We haven’t been able to lock down a day to discuss our plan to take control of the Lords because Gio is an asshole and won’t commit, and Elias is in the middle of an operation to take down a sex trafficking ring on Long Island.
I’ve been accepting easy hit jobs to kill time and feed the monster that craves violence.
He hasn’t been as hungry since meeting Noah, but with her being away, I want to kill every person who irritates me.
Not to mention that tomorrow is Christmas, and my trauma from twenty years ago is trying to consume me.
I pull up to the Brooklyn apartment that’s now more a home instead of a safe house and park my motorcycle at the side of the building. After locking it up, I take the stairs to the second floor.
My body aches from the work I did tonight to clean up my kill. But the exhaustion biting at my heels fades the moment I hear soft music playing through the door.
Noah is home.
The scent of home-baked cookies hits my nose, “Santa Baby” plays over the radio, and Noah is dressed up in a vintage dress—red and green with a built-in corset. The colors match her newly dyed hair, styled in curls like a pinup girl from the 1940s.
My rainbow bright.
She looks fucking fantastic.
“Welcome home, fiancé,” she says, flashing me her sexy smile.
Fiancé.
The word coming out of her mouth makes me groan. It would only sound better if she had said husband .
The moment we agreed to the fake engagement, I knew it would be anything but fake. Does she feel the same?
“You cooked?” I asked, impressed.
She removes a tray of cookies from the oven and sets it on top of the burners. She takes off the oven mitt and waves her finger to correct me.
“I baked. Well, not really baked. I just had to break off the pieces and put them on a tray. Easy, right?”
She picks one up and takes a bite. She immediately spits it out and frowns.
“I burned the bottom.”
I laugh and hang up my jacket. When I walk into the kitchen, the burned cookies are in the trash, and Noah is plating Chinese food take out. She pours two glasses of wine.
“And what are we celebrating?”
I lean in and claim her lips. It’s a soft kiss that she doesn’t allow to go further.
“It’s your birthday.”
“You want to celebrate my birthday?” The voice that comes out of my mouth doesn’t sound like mine. It was at least an octave higher.
Because this woman has left me speechless. She surprises me every day with her humanity. She’s slowly dragging my humanity out of me.
“Of course, silly.”
Noah turns me towards the bathroom and pushes my back.
“Go clean up and then we’ll eat dinner. After, we’ll have cake—”
“Did you bake the cake too?”
“God no.”
“Oh, good.”
“Don’t make me take your birthday gift back!”
She got me a gift too?
I stumble away in pure shock. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in twenty years. I haven’t wanted to celebrate my birthday. But Noah has me excited.
I’m turning thirty-two and for the first time in twenty years, I’m going to be happy on the anniversary of the worst night of my life.
N oah ordered my favorite, Kung Pao chicken with a side of crab Rangoon. She got sesame chicken with rice for herself. We eat in silence, enjoying the meal while sipping on Pinot Blanc.
Once we’re stuffed, she takes a single slice of chocolate cake out of the fridge, still in the plastic container from wherever she bought it from and sticks a lonely candle in it.
“I’m not going to sing to you because I’m a horrible singer—”
“Oh, I know. I’ve heard you through the walls at the old apartment.”
She flips me off.
“Anyway, I know this day holds a lot of pain for you, but we’re getting so close to finding closure. I can feel it. So, I thought this year could be different and we celebrate both your birthday and Christmas.”
Last night, on the eve of her mother’s murder, we honored Sasha Lenetti by visiting her grave at Bronx Cemetery. We brought books and sat at her headstone, reading for hours.
Noah confessed that she’s only visited her mother’s final resting place a handful of times. She said it was too difficult seeing her name etched into the headstone. It was too final. A reminder that she was never coming back.
Talk to her, I said.
She’d never done that. She never sat and talked to her mother like I do when I visit Imogen.
She said she felt silly but after a few sentences, I could see the weight of her grief lift off her shoulders. Noah told her mother everything. About me, about us investigating her death, about her plans for the Empire.
Before we left—Noah heading back to her father’s townhouse and me to plan a kill—she thanked me and said she now plans to visit her mother’s gravesite more often.
But tonight, apparently, is my turn to face my past.
She lights the cake’s solo candle.
“Make a wish, Puppet.”
I close my eyes and wish for a normal life with Noah—no QBM, no Empire, no goddamn mobs.
I want a two-story home, white picket fence and all.
A corgi running around the front yard—I’ve always wanted a dog and corgis are so damn cute.
Maybe we could get a black cat too because they’re considered bad luck and evil, like me, but they’re not and maybe in the future, I don’t have to be evil either.
Kids? I don’t need them unless Noah wants some, then I’d love to make a baby with her. Though I doubt she does. She has an IUD and has said several times how she’s glad it’s there since we never use protection.
I open my eyes and blow out the candle. Noah’s dark red lips spread into that contagious smile of hers again.
She stabs the fork into the cake, breaking off a bite and holding it up to my mouth.
“Open wide for mommy,” she says with a wink.
“Never say that again.” I laugh and take the offered bite. Sweetness bursts in my mouth, and I groan. I’m not a cake fan—ice cream is my go-to dessert—but this is good chocolate cake.
“You should try this.”
I use my fingers to grab a good chunk and smash it into Noah’s mouth.
Barely any gets inside so I smear the rest down her chin and neck, stopping before it gets on her pretty dress.
Maybe she’ll remove that dress for me.
“You did not just do that!” she giggles and licks around her mouth.
She takes a handful of the cake to do the same to me, but I stand out of her reach.
That just eggs her on and she starts chasing me.
I’m laughing as I dodge her grabby, cake-filled hand.
I jump onto the couch, then the ottoman, the chair, and the coffee table before running into the bedroom and climbing onto the bed.
“Are you going to come up here and get me?” I taunt.
Noah hunts me, walking slowly around the edge of the bed.
“What do I get if I catch you?” she asks.
“My cock.”
“Hmm. I don’t know. I can have that at any time.”
“True. Then why don’t you tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
She lunges for me, and I jump off the bed.
“Don’t fucking call me sweetheart, asshole!”
She lands on top of the bed on her stomach, so I take advantage and crawl up there with her. I flip her onto her back and straddle her.
She smears the cake all down the front side of my shirt. I remove the soiled piece of clothing and toss it to the floor.
She still has leftover cake and frosting on her palms and rubs it over my abs.
I inhale sharply at how strange yet fantastic the food feels on my skin.
“Tell me what you want, Vixen. Skittles. Crayon. Rainbow Bright.” I lean in and place a soft kiss on her lips. “Kevin.”
She tries to buck me off, so I pin her arms to the mattress.
She’s huffing and puffing at her attempt to break free, but I’m stronger than her. She eventually gives up.
“Tell me.”
She bites her lower lip and smiles.
“I want to peg you.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nods.
“You don’t think I’ve had a cock up my ass before?”
“I know you have.”
“You don’t think I’ve let women peg me before?”
She moans.
“Does that turn you on, Vixen?”
”Yes.”
“Here’s the problem.” She holds her breath, anticipating my next words. “I’m the one who caught you.”
I release one of her pinned arms so I can slide my hand underneath her dress. She’s wearing tights so I rip them to shreds. Her panties go next, allowing me to sink my fingers inside her wet pussy.
“Always so ready for me, Noah.”
I pump in and out and flick her clit with my thumb. She arches off the bed and groans.
I remove my fingers and stick them in her mouth.
“Suck.”
She greedily laps up her pleasure, then I kiss her, getting a mix of sweet cake and her cunt.
I grab her hair at the nape and bring her mouth to my torso. “Clean me off.”
Her tongue swipes through the mess she made, licking up the frosting. My cock grows harder with every greedy stroke across my abs.
I release the tight hold on her hair, and she falls back onto the bed, allowing me to finish removing her underwear and tights. I use the now-torn material to tie her hands to the bed frame and place her panties over her eyes.
“I want to hear you, Noah. Tell me how much you love my cock.”
I strip out of my sweats and take hold of my dick, then slide into her in one brutal thrust. She rewards me with a scream of pleasure piercing through the silence of the bedroom.
“That’s right, Noah. This pussy is mine, and you will only come when I tell you. Do you understand?”
I pound into her, using the fabric of her dress as leverage. I want to tear it off her so I can see her tits bounce, but the outfit is too beautiful to destroy.
I’ll just have to patiently peel her out of it. I pause inside her, to the hilt, to unbutton the front of the corset.
She gasps and squirms because she can’t see what I’m doing.
She can only feel it.
Once the fifth button is undone, her breasts pop out and jiggle. I lean over and take one of her nipples in my mouth.
She bucks at the sensation and moans her sweet song as I flick my tongue and suck as hard as I can. I scrape my teeth over the hardened bud.
“Delancy,” she pants. “Please.”
I continue moving inside her, slow at first before picking up speed.
“You feel so good,” I say, driving into her.
When I slap her breast, her cunt constricts around my cock.
“Can I come? Please, sir.”
God, I love when Noah begs.
“Yes,” I answer, slapping her other tit this time.
She explodes with an orgasm. I pause to let her come down from the high, then resume my thrusts.
“Give me another one, Noah.”
I adorn her throat with the finest hand necklace and squeeze, confining her breaths as I piston into her tight pussy.
She tugs at the tights I’ve used to bind her hands and the material digs into her wrists. She winces at the pain, which only adds to her pleasure.
I can already feel her next release building.
Her face darkens red from the lack of air, and I let go when she snaps her fingers—since she can’t tap on my arm to let me know she needs to breathe. The rush of air mixed with pleasure sends her over the edge again, and this time, I go with her.
In one final thrust, I douse her pussy walls.
I’ve never come so much and so hard in my life.
I lie on top of her, panting and sweaty.
She’s freed her hands from the binds and runs her fingers through my hair.
“Time for your present.” Noah says and pushes me away so she can sit up. “Let me clean up first.”
She gives me one final kiss, then smacks my ass as she walks by me to the restroom.
While she’s in there, I change into clean clothes, remove the cake-smeared sheets, and wipe down the kitchen. I manage to salvage a few more bites of cake for myself.
I’m pouring two glasses of wine when Noah emerges. She’s dressed in a mouth-watering red and green silk pajama set. The shorts ride up her ass and show off her dimpled thighs.
“Don’t look at me like that. We can’t get distracted again!”
She reaches for the cabinet above the fridge and pulls out a wrapped box, not too large but big enough to make me raise an eyebrow. She holds it out to me.
“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have because I wanted to, and I’ll fight you if you argue with me.”
I open my mouth to argue because I love fighting with her, but I can see how much this means to her. I take the box and we sit on the couch in the living room.
“Hurry up,” she says with a smile. She’s excited. Maybe more than me.
I tear into the rainbow and unicorn wrapping paper to reveal a brown box.
It’s taped all to hell, so I grab my pocketknife to cut through the packaging.
Noah eagerly bounces on the cushion beside me.
When I open the flaps to the box, I find two Nintendo Switches inside and two copies of the latest Legends of Zelda game.
Tears build behind my eyes, my throat aching as I hold in my elation.
“Noah,” I whisper.
“We can play together. Will you teach me?” She places her palm on my arm, glancing up at me with a look that says I’m here for you and your past doesn’t scare me. The trauma you experienced won’t push me away.
At least, that’s what I hope that look tells me. Tears blur my vision so I can’t really see her face clearly anymore.
“I’d love to,” I say, swallowing hard.
She kisses my cheek and stands.
“Teach me tomorrow, because now that we fucked, I want you to make love to me. Then we’ll cuddle and fall asleep. And tomorrow we’ll wake up and you’ll make waffles—”
“I will, huh?”
“Yes, I’m a horrible cook. And we’ll open presents—”
“You have more?”
“Then we’ll go to my father’s for dinner.”
I groan.
“Elias will be there, and we can finally come up with a plan to take down the Lords.”
And just like that, my happy birthday turns sour.
I really don’t want to get shot or stabbed again, and every time Noah’s father sees me, he puts a new hole in my body.