Chapter Five
Pacino
Phoebe’s reaction to the basement last night kept me awake. She calmed down after a few minutes, returning to her chipper self, but I can’t shake it.
And I can’t stop thinking about her.
Knowing sleep was impossible, I decided to spend my time digging into the car that was driving by the bakery.
I ran the plates Zep got, and it led me to a shell company.
Which led to another. And another. I ended up down the rabbit hole, and after four hours and twenty more companies, I called it a night.
Something keeps bugging me. It feels familiar. But how the hell would Phoebe have connections to the mob?
She wouldn’t. There’s something here I’m overlooking, but I’ll figure it out eventually. Once I get to know her more.
I wish I could say that getting to know Phoebe was just to help figure out what’s happening and who’s targeting her, but that’s not the reason. Something about her cheerful demeanor scratches at something in my brain I didn’t know I liked.
And hate.
Looking into her past, I find nothing particularly remarkable. Her mom died when she was twelve, which she’d already told me. There’s nothing I can find on her father. After her mom died, she came to live with her grandmother.
She went to culinary school and has an associate’s degree in business. There are a few years where there’s nothing, but then she popped back up when she opened up her bakery.
Could those few years between graduating and opening the bakery be the key to what’s going on?
I followed her to work this morning, and the club decided last night to take turns monitoring the bakery. It works for me to get distance while I figure things out, and they get free pastries. Plus, she’s a lot safer with men who have guns than Scotty with a taser.
But I honestly don’t think this has anything to do with Phoebe.
Not really. I’ve seen this before. I come from the world of dark surveillance and taking out enemies, but Phoebe couldn’t be anyone’s enemy.
Sure, she’s annoyingly perky and too friendly for her own good.
If she was a child, she’d be the type to happily hop in a van with a guy offering free puppies or candy.
None of this screams plotting to take her out.
I need a release. All I could think about when I finally tried to get some sleep was Phoebe, and my hard-on hasn’t disappeared since. Even with three cold showers.
“Business or pleasure?” Queenie greets as I step into Velvet Desire.
She’s recently dyed her hair red, and I wish she’d go back to blonde. It would really help me play out the fantasy I have in my head right now, but I can close my eyes.
“Pleasure. If you have time.”
Queenie winks and smiles. “For you? I always have time.”
I’m not sure how she became the go-to woman for the three of us who can’t seem to have real relationships, but I’m glad she’s around.
Not only can we find a way to get off, she also never asks questions.
Like how I got the scar on my cheek that stretches down across my chest. Or why I need very specific positions.
Fucking Queenie probably isn’t a great coping mechanism for me, though.
Or Kannon or Capone. But she doesn’t care about the baggage we’d need a lifetime to unpack.
She understands our struggle to form bonds with women, and at least this way, we’re able to have some form of physical contact and find a release that doesn’t involve blood.
I follow her into an empty room, and she shimmies out of her dress before grabbing the lube from the cabinet in the corner. I strip naked and grab a condom from the complimentary basket on the counter, rolling it over my raging hard cock
“You okay, baby?” Queenie asks as she rubs the lube over the condom, stroking me deliberately in the process.
She knows my boundaries. How to touch me. And to avoid looking at me.
I don’t like being looked at in general, but I can’t look at a woman when I’m fucking. It’s too hard to stare into eyes that don’t belong to the woman I want while I’m balls deep inside someone else, and most women can’t handle that. Not for more than a night or two.
“Just shit on my mind.”
The moment our clothes come off, she never looks up at my face. Even as she strokes me to get the condom prepped to take her, she stares at my chest or at her hand on my body. Never the face.
“A certain perky blonde currently staying under your roof?”
Turning around, she bends over the massage table with her legs spread. Foreplay isn’t her thing, and it works just fine for me as I walk up and slide into her.
“What have you heard?” I ask.
I stroke in and out of her slowly to help get her ready. Prepped. Even though there’s no love or emotion, there is mutual respect. And I do care about Queenie.
Wait, this all just happened last night. How the fuck does she know about Phoebe at my house already?
“Everyone’s been talking about her,” Queenie says. “Plus, hearing that you’re housing someone who is quite literally the opposite of you causes talk. I’ve met her before.”
“Yeah? And what do you think?” I ask, thrusting hard as she moans.
“She’s cute. And chipper.”
Cute? No, Pheobe’s goddamn gorgeous. And chipper is an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. “You think so? Thinking about her while you take my cock, Queenie?”
Sex isn’t about pleasure for her. Not here. She gets off sometimes, but it’s more of a transaction for her. I do my best to make it as pleasurable as possible for her, though.
“You know, I’ve had more women than you have, baby,” she says and backs her ass up against my body every time I thrust forward. Her sign she’s more than ready. “But let’s stop with the games. I’m not the one thinking about her right now.”
I still, watching as she moves along my length. “What?”
“Oh, come on. I know you’re picturing a tall, skinny blonde bent over in front of you rather than me right now.”
Damn her. It’s one thing for me to know, but it’s another for her to. And calling me out on it as I’m inside her is just bordering on rude.
At least anything that happens in here with Queenie stays here. She never shares anything intimate with us.
Taking her hair in my hand, I pull her head back and grip her hip with my left hand before slamming into her pussy. It’s the only real option I have to relieve this craving that won’t go away.
I’m dying to know how Phoebe feels. Assuming she isn’t a virgin, I suspect she’s as tight as one. Is she a closeted freak? Does she like being tied up? Spanked? Or would she prefer something of the vanilla variety?
I don’t know her well enough to say for certain, but I suspect she’s on the vanilla side. It’s not my favorite, but I might be willing to get on board with it if we could find a way to do it without having her look at me while I fuck her.
Surprisingly, it’s hazel eyes I imagine as I stare at the wall rather than the brown ones that haunt me. Damn Phoebe.
Yanking her hair harder, I’m careful not to pull too much. I slam into her, and one of the best things about Queenie is that nothing I’ve done so far is off-limits. Hell, she seems to enjoy it when it gets a little rough. She only comes when I pound into her without mercy.
One night, after too many drinks, Kannon and Capone asked me if I’d ever made her come. Neither of them has, and I’m a little proud to say I had. Felt it. Heard it. Liked it.
“Fucking Yellow Crayon,” I mutter as I come with her face in my mind, and a roar growls from deep within my throat.
“You really like her,” Queenie says as I release her hair. “You never come that fast.”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Smirking, she waits for me to pull out before reaching down to rub furiously between her legs. This is new.
“Queen?”
“Trevor’s got some medical issues, and I haven’t gotten laid at home in months. I was close, but I didn’t realize how bad I needed it until now.”
Guilt takes over even though her pleasure really isn’t the point here. Doing something I normally wouldn’t, I still her hand before pulling her back against my front, my soft cock nestled between her ass cheeks.
“Pacino—”
I slide my hand down, kneading her fake tit for a moment before continuing down between her legs.
Taking over for her, I let her head rest on my shoulder, her chest heaving.
I’m thankful she closes her eyes as she does because this is a little too close for comfort, but if anyone deserves a favor like this, it’s her.
After all she does for me, this is the least I can do.
My lips press against her neck while I play with her overly large fake tit with my free hand.
Her small moans as she reaches to cup the back of my head keep me going, and I wonder if Phoebe’s already rubbing off on me.
She wants to please those around her and keep them happy.
And this is definitely to make Queenie happy.
“I’m right there,” she mutters, frustration laced in her tone. “So fucking close.”
Slipping down further, I shove three fingers into her wet pussy, and she rides my hand as I finger-fuck her at the same pace I just did with my cock.
She gasps and digs her nails into my neck as she screams out, her body shaking against mine. “Yes, yes, fuck, yes!”
Releasing my head, she falls forward onto the massage table, and I unwrap myself from her. Her body completely relaxes, and she pants.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I know it’s not our usual agreement.”
“Sorry I didn’t last long enough to get you there.”
To her credit, she doesn’t out my fellow brothers as being unable to do the same. “If the blonde continues to get your motor revving like that, we might get a second chance. Or maybe this will be the last time.”
I snort and reach for my jeans. “Yeah, right.”
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s smirking. No, there will be nothing like that between Phoebe and me. Or, if there is, it’ll be short lived. Queenie will be the one I come to. Always.
“Is Trevor okay?” I ask once we’re clothed.
She nods. “Yeah, but the medication he’s on takes away his libido. They’re trying to find the right combination, but he can’t get it up to save his life. No matter what I do. And I’ve tried everything.”
“I’m sorry, Queenie.”
“It’s part of being a partner, right?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say.
Smirking, she tilts her head, finally making eye contact. “Yeah, you do.”
Yeah, I do. It’s just been a long fucking time since I was with someone I wanted to consider as my partner.
“See you around.”
She gives me a knowing look, but she’s wrong. No matter how badly I want to fuck Phoebe, I can’t give her what she needs. And she’ll only be willing to give me what I do for so long.
It’s just best to keep the arrangement as is. And when the threat against her is gone, I never have to see her again.