Chapter Eight. Asad #2
She jerks her head away from me and stumbles back a couple of steps. But not before I catch the flash of anger and hurt in her eyes. I can’t help that shit. She pissed me off, and we been dealing with each other for over a year. She know my mouth by now. Ain’t nothing nice about it.
“I don’t care what you say, Prince. If you didn’t want me, didn’t want this”—she cups her breast with one hand and slides the other under the short hem of her dress and palms her pussy—“you wouldn’t have kept coming back all this time.”
Before I can stop her, she drops to her knees and fists me through my pants.
Pressing her lips to my dick, she mouths it, letting me feel that overly talented tongue and graze of her teeth.
For a moment, I let her do her thing because, fuck, it feels good as hell, and Aryn has always been a throat goat.
I palm her head, pressing her hard against my shit, and she releases a throaty moan. But that sound turns into a yelp when I fist her hair and yank her to her feet. Aryn scowls at me, her fingers circling my wrist, attempting to tug my hand away from her.
“Listen to me, Aryn. Are you listening?” I give her a little shake until she nods.
“Treat this dick like last season’s whatever the fuck.
You don’t want to look at it, have nothing to do with it.
If you ever see my dick on the street, cross it.
If you and my dick are ever in the same room, exit that muthafucka.
You get where I’m coming from? Nod if you get where I’m coming from, Aryn. ”
She frantically nods. “Yes, Prince, damn. Let me go.”
I abruptly release her, and she stumbles again, but this time, she maintains her distance.
“Aryn?”
“Yes?” She sniffs, smoothing down her hair, her full mouth pursed in a pout.
I tilt my head. “You and my dick are in the same room.”
Sucking her teeth, she spins on her heel and stomps to the door. She wrenches it open and walks out with me right behind her. I’ve wasted enough time with this bullshit …
The fuck?
The rage that had been absent while dealing with Aryn’s annoying ass rushes back like a tidal wave, breaking against me and splintering into my skin.
Kareem hovers over Ember, standing so close he’s damn near sharing her gotdamn breath. Her gaze shifts over his shoulder and my brother turns around, moving next to her, as if guarding her. From me?
Smart.
Because what I’m about to do to them is going to make what I did to Carter look like a fucking Care Bear Stare. Kareem leans down and whispers something in Ember’s ear, and a growl rolls up from deep inside me. I stalk closer, and Aryn keeps pace with me with her messy ass.
An emotion spasms across Ember’s face, and it jolts me to halt. I can’t decipher it at first, but then her gaze sweeps over Aryn, then moves to me, dragging down my body, lingering on my dick. Specifically on the spot Aryn had her mouth.
Fuck. Gotdammit.
Suddenly, that emotion I couldn’t make out becomes crystal clear. Disappointment. Hurt. Betrayal.
Hate.
“Fuck. You,” she enunciates, sending fury surging hotter and brighter through me.
“Oop,” Aryn instigates with a petty laugh from next to me. “You think she guessed what went on in that room, baby?”
“Bitch, I will kill you,” I say to her, and that grin slowly falls away as her slim fingers lift for the base of her throat. “Get the fuck on.”
“Sure.” She gives me a tight smile. “I’ll just follow your fiancée out.”
I glance from her to see that Ember is no longer in the hallway. Shit. Leaving her and Kareem standing there, I take off in the only direction she could have disappeared, but he grasps my arm, stopping me.
I chuckle, staring down at my younger brother. I love him, but he’s playing with his life right now.
“You should leave her alone, Prince. You and Mom have done enough damage tonight.”
Gripping his fingers, I slowly peel them off me, making sure to squeeze them. Hard.
“This isn’t your business, bruh. Sit this one out.” I pat him on the back and continue down the corridor. “Tell Michelle to give everyone my regrets but I got called away, and send them home. Thanks,” I call over my shoulder.
It’s only been three minutes at the most, so even if Ember made it out the house, she couldn’t have gotten far.
Possessing knowledge of the house’s layout is an advantage.
I bypass the dining room and the closed doors of the salon where Michelle would’ve corralled my guests.
That would’ve been the last place Ember went.
I glance on the other side of the house, and the second living room and parlor are empty.
And she wouldn’t have gone deeper into the house toward the kitchen. Dammit, that leaves outside.
I grab the knob, but just before I twist it, instinct whispers to head to the library. There hasn’t been one time my instinct has failed me, so I release the doorknob and retrace my steps down the hallway. I make a left at the stairs and head to the wide, closed double doors of the library.
It makes sense. Even as a child, the library had been one of Ember’s favorite hiding places from my mother.
From me.
Clenching my jaw, I open one of the doors and step inside the shadowed room.
It doesn’t take me long to locate her lush, thick body perched on one of the huge armchairs in front of the desk.
Her head is bent over an open book, and as I cross the room, she doesn’t lift it or acknowledge my presence in any way.
“I didn’t take you for a runner, ma.”
“I didn’t take you for a bitch-made asshole.” She flips a page. “No, wait. That’s exactly what I’ve always taken you for.”
“Look at me, Ember.” When she doesn’t, I move to the side of her chair. “I’m not gon’ say it again.”
Sighing, she closes the book, and the cover reveals the title: Titus Andronicus. Shit. I’m not surprised she’s reading a tragedy where a man cooks his enemies’ sons into a pie and serves it to their mother. She’d appreciate that kind of creative get-back. Hell, I do, too.
She turns in the chair, tilts her head back, and silently meets my gaze.
“I’ve warned you about that mouth. It’s reckless as fuck and gon’ write a check that fat, juicy ass can’t cash. If anyone else talked to me the way you have tonight, they wouldn’t have a tongue.”
“So I can’t be disrespectful, but you can.”
“How have I disrespected you, Ember?”
She barks out a sharp crack of laughter.
“Calculated obtuseness isn’t a good look, Asad.
Do better.” Standing, she circles me to the shelves and returns the book.
Dragging a disgusted look up and down my frame, she huffs out a rough chuckle and heads toward the doors.
“Let me get out of here before I commit bodily harm.”
“Nah.” I move and step in front of her, blocking her from leaving the library. “You had your chance to leave. Answer the question.”
“Nah,” she mocks me, curling her lip in a derisive smirk.
“Everybody in this house, this family”—she sneers the word as if it tastes like deep-fried shit on her tongue—“in this fucking organization bows to you. You get what you want, whether it’s by misguided loyalty, that li’l dick that’s for everybody, or threats.
Who the fuck tells you no? Well, you know what, muthafucka?
No. Dig deep in that problematic brain and figure out the answer to your own question because I’m fresh outta explanations.
Ninety-two percent, muthafucka. I’m resting. ”
Those golden eyes glow with her hatred, and that slick-ass mouth has the same antipathy burning in my chest.
Gotdamn.
I want to choke slam the shit out of her.
I want to fuck the lining out of that pussy.
My fingers curl. Straighten.
Curl.
Straighten.
I can almost feel the flutter of her pulse under my palm. Feel that same tremble around my dick as she stretches to accept me. Molds to me.
Now it’s me who takes a step in retreat.
Either that or we’re both going to have an epic case of rug burn.
“First, li’l baby,” I say, lifting a hand and trailing my thumb over the shallow dent in her chin and down to her throat.
It’s a mistake to touch her, but one thing she said about me is correct.
I get what I want, and I don’t deny myself shit.
I press the tip of my thumb into the cradle of her collarbone, savoring the evidence of life that flows through her veins.
“Ain’t nothing little about this dick, and you just talking shit with that one.
Second, I stand on me not disrespecting you.
When did I do it, Ember? Was it when I introduced you as my fiancée?
Was it when I invited you to come up there with me so you could show everyone in that room you’re not to be fucked with?
Was it when I didn’t jack your li’l ass up for saying fuck me in front of Kareem and—”
“Don’t say her name to me,” she snaps, slashing a hand between us. “Maybe it’s when you let her hang all over you like a thrift-store suit or let her sit at your side in a place of honor at your table. Or maybe it’s when you crept off to get your dick sucked after a sideshow of murder and torture.”
Several moments of silence throb between us like a primitive drumbeat.
Gotdamn. None of that other shit meant a thing to me, but I can see how it would look to her. And possibly others. Yeah, I get it. But …
“Didn’t shit happen in the study.” She scoffs and attempts to move around me, but I shift, blocking her once more. Lowering my head, I shove my face close to hers until I can taste the smokey and citrusy flavor of her whiskey-scented breath. “Didn’t shit. Happen. In that. Study.”
I stare into her honeyed eyes, not looking away. Letting her see the truth there.
“She tried it. And for a moment, I considered letting her, but only for a moment. Nothing happened, ma,” I reiterate.