18. Anders
Anders
M aya is grumbling to herself when I step into the kitchen.
It’s not that I don’t like kids, but as an only child with no siblings to give me nieces and nephews, I haven’t spent much time around them. But, for whatever reason, Carmela’s mini-me amuses me with her quick ease toward me and the slew of names she’s calling Mick under her breath.
“I take it you’re not a big fan of the senator?” I step up to her side as she vigorously stirs a bowl of pancake mix. It’s too watery and sloshes over the side onto the marble countertop, but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to beat it into submission. There’s a smear of dry mix on her cheek she pays no mind to, and I have to bite my lip to prevent a laugh from escaping .
“I hate that guy,” she spits the words out like they leave a nasty taste in her mouth.
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” I casually slide the box of mix toward her. She stops power whisking and stares at it for a second before roughly grabbing it and dumping a pile of powder into the bowl.
Now there’s too much mix and not enough water.
She starts whisking again. “Because every time he shows up here, he makes Mom sad. She’s lonely. She spends enough time being sad. So, it just makes me mad that he thinks he can storm in here and make her feel worse ‘cause he’s her boss.”
It’s pretty insightful for a fourteen-year-old, but something tells me Carmela and Maya are close. Hearing Maya talk about her mom being lonely tugs at my heartstrings a little, and I wonder if she realizes her mom pushes people away in order to keep her safe.
“And he’s just so smug . Like, who does he think he is going upstairs into her room? Did he think I wouldn’t notice? It’s creepy. He’s old. My mom is too hot for him.” Maya gives up and sighs, pushing the bowl away from her.
I grab it and scoop the sludge into the garbage can at the end of the island before going to the farmhouse-style sink, grabbing the mix on the way. She watches as I measure out the appropriate amounts, then hand her the bowl. “There you go. Try that.” I take my place beside her again, directing her to mix a bit slower and stopping her when it’s the right consistency. “The trick is not to overmix it. Now, we let it sit while we warm up the griddle.”
While she grabs the utensils and sets the pan on the stove, I ask her, “He kinda is a smug asshole, isn’t he?”
She giggles, and at the same time, a throat clears behind us. We turn to find Carmela standing there, one eyebrow raised and arms crossed over her chest. Mick is behind her, scowling at me.
“A word, Brooks.” His tone is absolute before he storms out of the house.
The slamming door makes Carmela wince before she walks further into the kitchen, placing her hands on Maya’s shoulders and kissing the top of her head. “The mix looks perfect, mijita.”
“It does now . Anders had to help me.” Maya beams up at her after she throws me a sweet smile. It’s only stupid pancake mix, but a sense of pride fills my chest as Carmela’s face morphs into grateful affection. “Are you staying for breakfast?”
“I should probably head back to the city, little one.” I reach out and ruffle Maya’s mess of raven hair when she frowns and mumbles ‘ I’m not little’ under her breath. “Maybe another time.”
Carmela’s cheeks turn rosy, and her hand is warm when I grab it and pull her away from Maya.
“You okay?”
She nods, peering over my shoulder where Mick is pacing outside the house. “I’m fine. He’s an ass, I’m used to it. He threatened to send you back to California. You’d think he’d know by now I don’t really put much stock into threats. Someone is threatening to kill me, yet I still go to the club and perform. If he tries to fire you, I’ll just hire you back.” She smiles and wraps her arms around my neck.
My thumbs stroke the soft skin of her sides as I pull her closer. We both acknowledge that we have morning breath, dodging kisses in favor of nuzzling necks. Her heady scent hits me straight between the legs. “That morning alarm sucked. I would have rathered woken you up with my head between your legs.”
“Oh, trust me, you’ll be down there tonight. You might be a cocky jerk most of the time, but your tongue is my second most favorite body part of yours.” She lets out a little laugh against my skin before pulling back. “Go. Before he comes back in here and upsets Maya more.”
“See you tonight?” I reluctantly let her go. It’s wild to think how quickly our dynamic went from wanting to tear each other apart to this soft display of tenderness. I’m still apprehensive about how things will go once we see each other again.
Will a few hours cool her off? Will I show up at the club tonight and find the hellcat instead of this cuddly kitten?
Carmela nods, turning to join Maya. “Yeah. I’ll see you later. And don’t let Mick be a jerk. Just ignore him.”
I’d already planned on doing that, but as soon as I step foot outside, Mick’s face is blotchy, and he’s practically vibrating with anger. “I didn’t hire you to fuck her, Brooks.”
“That’s funny.” I begin walking around the side of the house toward the street. “I seem to remember you being the one to offer me up to fake fuck her.” He’s hot on my heels, chest puffed up like an overgrown peacock, but I don’t slow as I pull out my phone and order an Uber.
The air is cool, licking at my face like chilly sandpaper. I’d hoped to be off the East Coast by the time snow fell, but now that the circumstances have changed, I’m not sure what will happen. I can’t leave my mom to take care of my grandma by herself. But now, I don’t want to leave Cara, either.
I look over the shoulder that Mick isn’t crowding at the flowered walkway with its neatly trimmed hedges. Mom would love it here, and Grandma, too. Problem is, neither of them will be able to handle the cold weather in the winter months.
“Because I thought you were a professional. You know, when I asked Paul to find me someone for the job, he picked you because of your background. Because you worked in this specific field numerous times and never had any issues with your emotions getting in the way,” Mick bellows .
I want to tell him that he must not have looked that closely because the last big case I had blew up because of my emotions.
Instead, I shrug. “I retired from that life years ago. I was perfectly happy on desk duty before you plucked me from the sunshine and dumped me here on my knees in front of an infuriating goddess. Don’t get pissed that I decided to switch religions and worship at the altar between her legs. Or that you’ve taken her for granted all this time.”
His fingers dig into the skin of my bicep to stop me. I whirl around, the other fist clenching as I get in his face, forcing him to let me go and retreat a few steps. “Don’t fucking put your hands on me unless you want to get beat the fuck down, you hear me?”
The harsh verbiage doesn’t even phase him as he puffs out his chest and steps back into me. “Do you really think she’ll stay with you? If you haven’t figured it out already, Brooks, let me educate you on my and Carmela’s history. She will come back to me. She always comes back to me. When it comes to her, I always win. So keep that in mind when you’re in bed with her. You’re just keeping it warm.”
Tires crunching over gravel reach my ears as he grins at me triumphantly. My phone goes off with a ding, signaling my ride is here. I choose not to respond, not trusting myself to say something that won’t make him turn around and march back into Carmela’s house .
“I’ll be at the club tonight!” he calls out behind me like that information will scare me.
“Great,” I call back. “I’ll make sure we put on a good show for you!”
Mick’s earlier words drill a hole in my brain for the rest of the afternoon.
By the time I arrive at the club, I’m a fucking ball of tension, ready to snap and unleash my frustrations on my newly acquired girlfriend.
Is she my girlfriend?
We’re in our thirties—I’m nearly forty—labels seem stupid at our age.
Plus, we haven’t spoken all day. The chances of me walking into her office and having her tell me last night was a fluke is pretty fucking high and only serves to heighten my anxiety.
I pass Luca on the way to her office. His skin glimmers with sweat beneath his leather vest, and the anxiety turns to dread as I automatically wonder if he was just with Carmela instead of picking up on the fact that he’s coming from the direction of the gym that serves as an entrance into Désirer.
We share a look that classifies as pure malevolence. Big guy knows I’ve got his girl now and that my suspicions about his involvement in all of this haven’t faded. At some point in the following week, I need to make it a point to sit down with his father and question him. But I’ve learned that one doesn’t just simply show up to question a man like Vinny Morroni.
Nails typing on a keyboard fill the air outside Carmela’s office. The door is ajar, and she’s wearing her glasses, glaring at the screen like it’s personally offended her. “I don’t want to be bothered right now. Close the door and leave,” she states without looking up to see who she’s addressing.
The attitude sparks heat in my groin, and my dick jumps at the sound of her annoyed voice like it lives to torment her. “I’ll close the door, baby girl. But rest assured, I’m here to bother the fuck out of you.”
Her eyes snap to mine as I step inside and turn the lock so we aren’t interrupted. Even from here, I can see her cheeks flush in the glow of the low light. She takes her glasses off and rises from her chair. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says quietly, tone breathy and loaded with the thick cadence of lust.
She’s wearing a tight, black mini dress, classically cut and hitting mid-thigh. Easy as fuck for me to take what I want from her. And what I want is for her to scream my name while I draw out her impending orgasm.
I take unhurried steps toward her. “I know we should discuss the show tonight, but I have other things in mind.”
Heat sears across my skin, licking a path down my spine as I watch her legs press together. Her hands finger her hem, unwittingly pulling it higher. “Oh yeah? Like what?” She’s just as ready as I am.
Just as needy.
Slowly, I reach for my belt. Carmela’s eyes drop to watch what I’m doing, licking her crimson lips before the corner of the bottom one disappears between her teeth. I like this new dynamic—her in this shy, demure role, instead of constantly fighting me for control. “Go sit on the sofa.”
She swallows thickly, eyes darkening as she turns and does what I tell her without a fight. Good girl. I don’t say the words out loud, not wanting to break the spell. The last time I called her a good girl, she angrily rode me like a bronco.
Not that I’m complaining. That night has lived in my head rent-free since it happened. But it’s not what I’m going for tonight.
My belt hits the floor as she settles herself. My little hellcat surfacing as Carmela lays back against the plush cushion and spreads her legs wide, baring her lace-covered pussy to me as she drapes an arm behind her to rest on the back of the sofa. “Hungry?” The question drips from her lips like honey.
And I’ve always had a sweet tooth.
“Starved.” I sink to my knees in front of her, caging her between my arms as I pull her skirt higher. A sigh escapes her lips as my fingers slide beneath the straps of her thong and inch it down her legs. My eyes zero in on that smooth triangle between her thighs as she lifts her hips to help me.
With her underwear still bunched in my palm, I scoop my hands beneath her to squeeze her ass, lifting her closer to my face. As my mouth closes around her warm, wet heat, she lets out a sharp moan.
I’ve never tasted anything as good as Carmela. My tongue slowly slides through her lips, savoring the sweet, tangy combination that seeps from her velvety skin. “Anders,” she whimpers.
Mouth still on her, tongue slowly flicking against her clit, I peer up to see her grasping the back of the sofa with her head tipped back in pleasure. I decide this is my favorite view from now on.
Even though I’m on my knees for her, knowing that it’s me making her writhe in pleasure quickly finds a home at the top of the list of my most favorite things.
Her fingers gently wrap in my hair as she widens her legs shamelessly. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
I slide a hand out from underneath her, reaching down to unzip my pants and free my cock from its tight confines. I eat her faster, stroking my dick with the hand that still holds her thong while I suck and lick her into release .
She shudders as she comes, and I trap her liquid honey between my lips as I pull away. I want to take my time and draw another from her, but we have obligations.
Rising to press my lips against hers, I force them apart and spill her essence into her mouth. Surprised, she begins to back away, but I cradle her neck and hold her to me, making her taste herself on my tongue—making her realize how good we taste together.
A pleasured groan escapes her throat as she surges forward with vigor, crawling into my lap as she sweeps her tongue along mine to clean every last drop.
The force knocks me back, and she follows me to the floor, hands wrapping around my length. She pulls her lips from mine and looks down at where our flesh is joined, then does something that nearly makes me come right there.
She spits on my dick and begins to milk it.
My head tips back to the ceiling. “Fuck, baby, that was so fucking hot.”
“Stand up,” she softly commands. I listen, only because I know those luscious lips are about to be wrapped around my cock.
“You want it dirty, don’t you?” she asks before she drips more saliva on my crown and swirls her tongue around it .
With my free hand, I gather her hair away from her face. “I want it as dirty as you’ll give it.”
I swear she smirks as she begins to bob her head up and down, taking me so deep she gags. My fingers tighten around her strands, holding her head down as she chokes on me. “You look so fucking pretty choking on my cock, Cara.”
She hums around me, eyes squeezing shut as black mascara tears seep from the corners. If I were afraid she’d actually throw up, I’d stop. But my girl’s a fucking pro as she takes me entirely down her throat, blocking her airway for extended lengths of time, swallowing around me before she draws back. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, those lips were made for sucking cock, weren’t they?” Her throat feels incredible. I steel the impulse to fuck her face, letting her set the pace but holding her down when she allows it.
I’ve dreamed of this moment since she walked into headquarters the day after we met and got mouthy with me. Imagined how she’d look as she willingly gagged on my dick while I fucked her face. How she’d take it.
My imagination doesn’t even compare to the real thing. I don’t think anything compares to the vision before me.
Spit escapes from the corners of her mouth, making my balls draw up as her beautiful eyes dart up to mine. I pull out of her mouth abruptly, ignoring her discontented cry as I strategically pump my release into her underwear. She watches, saliva coating her lips and chin while her tears dry on the sides of her face.
“Stand up,” I order. When she complies, I crouch down and open her thong.
Our eyes remain locked, her watching in amazement as I guide her feet through the holes and drag the garment up her legs. My cum covers the crotch of it, and when the fabric is back where it should be, I cup between her legs and massage my release into her opening.
Pure satisfaction flows through me as her cheeks flush a deep rose and her breath quickens while I work myself inside her. “A certain someone informed me he’d be attending the show tonight. Now if he tries to get near you, he’ll know I was there first.”
Slapping her pussy lightly, I step back, tucking myself back into my pants. “And, Cara?”
“What?” she’s breathless, raw need clear in her tone. There’s nothing I want more than to strip down and fuck her senseless, but we have things to do, and for once, I have the upper hand between us.
My sick sense of pride wants to keep it that way.
“Don’t you dare take those fucking panties off. This is me marking my territory. I want you to go through the rest of the night knowing it’s my mess that’s drying between your legs,” I say over my shoulder as I turn to leave.
Her gulp is audible, but she doesn’t respond .
Now who’s training whom, baby girl?
Mick doesn’t show up like he threatened to.
Carmela and I don’t perform. She plays her role as Madame, and I keep my distance, watching for anything suspicious from the shadows.
It’s the first time I've really taken in what she’s doing—the way she effortlessly pairs people and points clients in the right direction of whatever their tastes may be. I lose count of how many times she’s been asked to join in or propositioned for a private show.
Where before, the whole ordeal didn’t sit right with me, I now feel a swell of pride as she gravitates to my side sporadically throughout the night—a touch here, a kiss there.
A promise of what’s to come later, when everyone is gone, and the possibilities are endless.
By the end of the night, I know without a doubt that California is no longer an option for me.
New York has my fucking heart.