Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

K andie

"Hey you might want to try that new Cooper and Thief Pinot Noir. It's real good," Mr. Bobby-Lee calls over from the counter, chewing on a fat cigar he probably got imported from Cuba by the Cruz Cartel. Nobody talks about it, but everyone uses them to get the things you couldn't otherwise have in this rural of a community like my Madagascar vanilla.

"You got a sample, Mr. Bobby-Lee?' I quirk an eyebrow grabbing a bottle heading his way.

"I sure do." He pulls a bottle out and two plastic cups.

"Now why you need some if you already know how it taste?" I laugh up at him. He's as round as he is tall, his salt and pepper beard neatly trimmed in a V coming to rest mid-chest. It's the main reason why he plays Santa Claus every year throwing candy out at the kids during the Christmas parade then listening to them tell all their family business over at the Shelby-Love Arts Center.

"What kind of southern gentleman would I be if I let a lady drink alone?" Shaking his head, he gives me a stern look. "Y'all young ladies these days need to expect more from these boys. You make them take you out, not park out back, Sheriff or not."

"Oh my jeeze, not you too," I grumble. I need to talk to Mrs. Lopez. I know she thinks she's somebody now that she's finally getting the tea before me and it being about me is a real get. She almost rivals my cousin, Joi, on her hot to the presses news drops. At least Joi gets paid and turned the failing local newspaper, The Shelby-Love Chronical , around with their gossip blog. I don't know how I feel about Mrs. Lopez telling my business.

"He was just doing a welfare check because someone dropped a bottle of wine on my sidewalk and the potted plant got knocked off the rooftop deck out back."

"Uh-huh. She said the truck looked like it had been there all night." Swirling the deep plum colored wine in the clear cup, he eyes me with skepticism. "I don't know about you taking up with a Shelby." Him being a Carrington, the other prominent Black family in these parts, makes him also not think too kindly of the Shelbys.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that," I say, taking a sip, letting the bouquet settle on my tongue, the flavor washing over my taste buds in a heady mix of caramel and berry.

"Wow." I look at him with wide eyes. "It's better than the berry wine they make."

"I know." He drags out the last word, topping us both off. "I believe this is good enough for your cousin's restaurant."

"Absolutely. I'll tell her to order it through you," I tell him, savoring the flavor of the wine he's so kindly decided to share.

"Well, I appreciate that, Kandie. What dessert would you pair this with?" He asks, all serious.

"Oh, anything rich like German chocolate. It may even go with something light and delicate, like a chiffon cake. Pies — pecan, chocolate mousse for sure," I tell him, finishing the drink.

"How much?" I ask, already feeling mellow.

"Forty-eight," I pay, tapping my card on the reader and waving as I leave. "Take care, Mr. Bobby-Lee."

"You too Kandie-girl, and if you do take up with Ulysses again, he ain't bad as far as Shelbys go." He toasts me giving me a mischievous wink.

"Jeeze-Louise, where are y'all getting this taking up with Ulysses again, thing?" The door chimes as I push it open hurrying to get away from his knowing gaze.

"You know better than anybody how news travels in this town," he calls after me.

"Gosh darn it." I look at my flattened tire. Sitting the bottle down, I unhook my patch kit from the inner rail of my bike.

Maneuvering the bike around, I turn it upside down into a stable position. "What the?" I whisper as I find the hole is not a hole but rather a slash. I look around on the ground from where I came. A hole this large and long should leave evidence. My tires are pretty durable. Fingering the gash I look around seeing if anyone is about. People are coming and going about their business. A few "hey there's" and waves like normal. Still, this feels deliberate.

Busy looking at the damage I must miss the low hum of the vehicle pulling alongside me.

"You need help with that?" I jerk my head around at the posh British accent to look at a sinewy arm hanging out of a black G-Wagon. I swallow, following the length of the arm up to the equally impressive face of Marcus Sommerland. From headline grabbing, jet-setting aristocrat to university professor, Marcus has settled into our community like an old friend. A very fine ass old friend.

Introduced to me by Nikki over a year ago, I couldn't quibble. He's done nothing but be helpful and kind to my sister.

"Yes. It seems like I have a flat that requires more than a patch job." Embarrassed to need help, I realize my trauma when I see it, so instead of braving the two blocks pushing my bike, I step back and let him load my only legal source of transport in the back of his truck after he steps out to look at the damage.

"Thanks." Giving him my best smile I tilt my head resting it on my hand with my arm propped on the window.

"No problem, after all the free confections you've given me, it's the least I can do." Casting a wink my way, he pulls off the curb into the street. His truck is not small, but he makes it feel small with his long legs. I can't help but admire the way his thighs flex as he maneuvers the vehicle.

Pulling my gaze away, I see when he catches me checking him out. Blushing, I turn back to the view of our small town. I can't help it. He is like I said — fine as hell. Tall like I like them, his blond sleek, slightly windblown, posh in one of those devil may care style rich boys like, his eyes are more silver than grey. Gorgeous through and through. I bet he never tosses people's wine into the street, I muse, wondering why that doesn't have more impact on me than it does. I guess I like mean motherfuckers who do shit like that.

It takes us a few minutes to reach the back of my business.

Getting out, I watch as he effortlessly takes the bike out of the back and sits it in front of me.

We stand there with the bike between us like a very thin prophylactic. I mean this guy. A slow smile spreads across his face, it's almost vicious and a little thrill tingles up my spine.

"I can bring the bike up for you, Kandie." His voice holds the promise of so much more. It's almost as if he's saying and then I will blow your back out, and feast on you for the rest of the night.

"Maybe next time." The words are barely out of my mouth when the low rumble of a truck all too familiar pulls up right beside me.

"This is not a parking space." Both Marcus and I turn to see Ulysses leaning out of his truck. How come I notice how his arms are just a tad bit brawnier, his tan darker, his fingers longer, broader? Why then do I remember how they felt on my body, how he thrust them inside me? Made me suck them clean.

My body responds like it's on fire. My body shivers. Marcus' cool gaze sweeps between us. Understanding settles between the men.

"Thank you so much for your help," I say sweetly to Marcus, doing my best not to look at the cool, raking assessment in Ulysses' stare.

"Anytime, doll." The sexy drawl in his voice is an enticement I know better than to respond to.

"On the job, even when it's not your concern, Sheriff?" I'm near way to the top when Marcus' droll question reaches me from below.

There is a hard pulse of a pause then. "Everything about her is my concern, Sommerland."

Strangling the bottle's neck, I slink inside my loft shutting the door firmly behind me.

Why didn't I say anything?

Why didn't I contradict him?

He told Marcus I was his concern. Why is he coming down this alleyway, anyway?

Full from catfish, collard greens, and baked mac and cheese, I trudge across to the kitchen feeling like I could throw the entire feast up. Feelings I haven't allowed myself to even think about start bubbling up like good sourdough starter.

Talk about acting out of order, this man, I swear. Never for a moment did I think he meant the whole ‘he's the only one I'm going to be with thing'. Especially when he wasn't giving me that same promise. I may be his concern, but I guess he doesn't think he's mine. Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks he's going to keep me on lockdown and still be the widow and divorcee comforter for the county.

Putting my wine away, I head straight to the shower. It's a good thing I don't work at one of the plants because I would be trying to find a ride to work now that my tire is ruined and it's a special order. Luckily, all I have to do is go down one flight of stairs, make a left, then I'm there.

Steam quickly fills the room. Shucking my clothes off, I pull on a shower cap as I step under the hot spray of the water. Squeezing the liquid emulsion of the vanilla-rose my cousin Clover formulates especially for me. I use it to wash my body. I get my unscented face wash she also makes to cleanse my face before washing again.

Of its own volition, my mind skates back to strong arms and piercing ice-blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, a webbed scar edged in silver marring his otherwise perfectly brutal face.

"Everything about her is my concern—" flits through my mind as my fingers caress my already distended nipples. Head falling back, "Motherfucker," I moan, squeezing the round flesh of my titties. I start squeezing my nipples, applying gentle pressure, gradually getting meaner like he did the other night until the delicious sting has my essence slipping through my pussy lips, making me slick and ready.

"I'm the only one you're fucking from now on," drifts on the perimeter of my mind as my fingers find my clit. Circling the flesh again and again, I tease myself, trying to mimic the same way he did. "Ulysses," I groan, driving myself mad, finally giving into the pull of pleasure. Closing my eyes I see his face, his eyes, picturing him just as he came driving his heavy dick into me with a ruthlessness that bordered on hatred, his face breaking in my memory drives me over the edge. I call his name again on a keening cry. My orgasm takes me to my haunches. If I didn't have my shower cap on, my hair would be ruined. Not wanting to test my luck, I rise, careful of my sensitive flesh.

Toweling off feels like its own special brand of torture. My nipples are still hard poking out, the rest of my skin so hypersensitive. Lotioning my body feels like foreplay as I glide my hands over my calves. Way too soft. I want the feel of his heavy, callused hands. The sharpness of his sharp nails grazing against me, the scruff of his five o'clock shadow scraping my thighs.

By the time I'm finished, my body is humming. I need my wine, my vibrator, and a K-Drama, not necessarily in that order.

Like a record scratching my plans for the evening, I screech to a halt when I walk into the main area of my loft and see Ulysses Shelby lounging in my reading nook, reading my special edition copy of The Cruel Prince .

"I thought I was going to have to come in there and take care of you," he growls, not looking up from his book.

The breath catches in my throat — for a moment. "W-what are you doing here?"

"What the fuck is going on with you and Sommerland? And why is your door unlocked?" Rising like an avenging god from the depths of hell, he spears me with a look that would shred a lesser man.

"Oh, scared of a little competition? No one is coming up these stairs to bother me — that is until now." Smirking, I drop the towel from my body, going over to get one of my bodysuits to pull on to torment him while still putting a healthy barrier between us. Already feeling weak for him and his knowing what I was doing rather loudly in the shower has me feeling more vulnerable than I like right now.

I swear I feel a whoosh right before I'm pressed against the wall beside my antique and very shaky dresser. My tiny selection of parfum rattles beside me. The picture of my family — my one and only keepsake falls on its face. I had it framed special at the Michaels in Birmingham and just thinking how I really didn't have the money at the time and how much it meant makes me bare my teeth at him. Grabbing his neck in return, I drag him forward. Taking his mouth, I plunge my tongue into the hot delicious cavern. He groans like I'm breaking him. I bite the hell out of his lip for good measure for messing up my stuff.

Pulling back, I let a little evil smile kick up the corner of my mouth. I lick his blood from my bottom lip.

"Why do you even care? Why, suddenly, am I your business? You're fucking every divorcee and widow countywide, Sheriff." My tummy tightens, thinking he only came because of Angel.

"You know why." His eyes go half-mast as he looks down at me. Rubbing the blood from his lip with his thumb, he smears it over my lips before pushing it into my mouth, making me suck it clean. Crowding close so that I can feel his hardness pressed against my tummy, he moves his hand from my mouth to catch the hair at the nape of my neck. Tugging my head back, he makes me meet his hard visage. His mouth cuts a cruel cast. "I know you kept that pussy for me."

He tugs harder, almost as if he's angry at the thought. "What I can't figure out is why? Why, wildcat? I said I was never coming back. You were never going to follow me. So why haven't you had any other lovers?"

"Oh, you're mad I don't fit the narrative you created to make yourself feel better about being the county's sneaky link?" Dodging the real question, I relish my taunt. "Who says I was saving it for you? As you just saw, I'm not lacking for quality attention. Who says it's you or ever was? I know my worth and it definitely ain't for someone who thinks so little of me when you knew you were my first. You fell for it when they told the same tired lies." I try to keep the hurt cleaving into my heart from coming out in my voice, but something tells me I'm failing miserably.

My body takes to the air, my arms fight and flail, my legs kick for a hot second before my back meets the softness of my down comforter. I bounce. Twice.

In seconds his big body is crowding mine. He wedges himself between my thighs. Incredibly, even after all that, I make more room for him opening wider.

"I know it's me. I know what's mine." Dipping his head, he buries his face in my neck. Sucking hard, he pulls my flesh into his mouth, marking me, claiming me. His dick throbs so hard against me. My traitorous body and my hoe ass pussy welcome him by melting further.

Mad with myself, I wiggle my arm free, snatching at his curls. Releasing me, he pulls back. Triumph lights his eyes. Maybe that's what makes the decision, because it certainly isn't a conscious thought in my head when I haul back and slap that smug ass look off his face.

Lightning fast on its heels just as his fair skin blooms peach under his tan from my attack, his hand is on my throat. It's a warning. He's not squeezing, but I can tell it's taking everything in him not to.

"Get. Out," I grit.

"Let's get one motherfucking thing straight. I will never hit you in anger — ever." He shakes me for emphasis. "Never." He squeezes the point home. "Never fucking put your hands on me in anger." His eyes are blazing. There are so many demons behind his eyes, it makes my heart stutter. He is on edge, so triggered by my actions. Dropping my hands, I stop struggling. "Don't. Don't ever — do you understand me, wildcat?" He's on top of me, the dominant one, outweighing me by at least a hundred pounds, could break me if he chooses too, but he's pleading with me.

"I won't," I eek out.

Touching his forehead to mine, he demands in a whisper, "Promise me, Kandie. I don't want to ever hurt you."

"I promise, U." Cupping his strong jaw, I turn into his still bent head, kissing his cheek. "I promise."

Somehow, our mouths meet. The kiss is sweet. An apology from me, a little forgiveness from him when we tangle. We're making his lip bleed again, but neither of us care as we sup on sorries and forgiveness. Mouths lingering for long moments. It's like we are cherishing each other. Trying to get back all the missed kisses over the years.

Pulling back, his blue gaze eats me up as he takes in my face. "So pretty." His lips press in again, taking mine, his tongue still tinged with blood as he sweeps into my mouth making it his. His tongue takes in a commanding dance, a fight, settling in for a long fucking. He devours me.

My pussy clenches and I can't help but grinding my neediness against his hardness. He feels so dang good. He moves with me, meeting me in the delicious rhythm, rubbing his heavy dick against my sensitive flesh.

I'm so caught up. "Ohmygoodness," I gasp when the orgasm takes me by surprise. I guess being ready from my shower made it short work.

"Fuck, you're so responsive, wildcat," he praises right before he slides lower, pulling my legs over his shoulders.

"I'm not passing up this deliciousness. Your pussy smells so good," he groans, licking deep between my lips.

"Look at me while I eat your pretty pussy, wildcat," he orders, dipping his head between my legs again. Tongue swirling between my soft lips, he flicks my clit with meticulous precision. "Taste so fucking good," he murmurs against my flesh, sending shivers up my spine. He lavishes my pussy with pleasure and praise, licking and laving every inch of me, leaving none of me neglected.

Lifting my legs higher, he mercilessly tongue fucks me, taking out all his aggression as he spears inside of me over and over, making me quake on the verge of pleasure. I'm so close, embarrassingly close when I just came what feels like seconds ago.

"She's such a greedy girl." He pulls back eyes on me, patting me in a steady rhythm with increasing pressure until a loud smack has me squirming.

"Remember I said I will never touch you in anger?" he demands with authority. He gives me another stinging smack when I don't answer fast enough.

"Yes." Panting, twisting, I nod. The word is more of a gasp.

"I didn't say anything about not punishing this tight little pussy when you act up, did I?' He smacks my mound for emphasis.

"No—" The words trail into a keening cry as he increases the tempo and the force until I am thrumming with need. Heat settles deep into my kittykat. Wet sounds meet his hand as he spanks my pussy with a ruthlessness that has me arching and pulling back at the same time as my body can't decide whether it wants more.

"Where the fuck you think you're going, wildcat?" he teases with taunting cruelty as he lays a smack right on my clit and lips. "Talking all that shit then having the nerve to slap a motherfucker full on the face like you somebody bad."

Again and again he smacks, sending me over the edge. My tummy cramps from the intensity as I come. He catches the little squirt of liquid, sweeping it over me in fast butterfly movements right before dipping his head and licking me clean.

Shocks of pleasure engulf me as my climax crests over and over from the diabolical way he consumes me. It is absolutely magical. I don't just see stars. I feel like I'm floating through the universe.

Eventually, his movements slow as my orgasm subsides. I hear rather than see him shucking off his clothes. Then warm flesh is covering mine. Heat and spice surround me just as he does. He pushes in. I welcome the delicious twinge of pain because it immediately assuages the deeper ache his tongue and fingers couldn't.

"Look at me." Peeling my eyes open, my breath catches. His face is hard, his eyes cold, his big heavy hand covers my throat, holding me still. "If you don't want to be the cause of a drop in the male population around here, I suggest you stop playing in my fucking face about entertaining other men."

Holding my gaze, he withdraws loosening his grip. Squeezing slowly, he pushes back in. Captivated by the desire blooming in his eyes as he thrusts inside, I open my legs wider, arching into the lovely painful pleasure of his big ass dick finding its home in me.

"Ohmygoodness." My head falls back into his tightening grip as he bottoms out. I feel so full. His grip tightens. "Do you hear me, wildcat?" Nipping my lips, he growls.

Looking at him defiantly, I lean into it, taking his bitten lip into my mouth, sucking the cut I bit into him earlier. Pulling back, I let a wild smile spread across my face, knowing it's going to make him go crazy when I refuse to answer him.

Like a lit match on drought dried hay, this motherfucker snaps. Lean hips slam into me, hitting my spot. "Ahh," I half scream, half groan at the force of his relentless fucking. Lights dance behind my lids as he squeezes my throat, matching the force of this thrusts. The bed is moving. I bet Mrs. Lopez can hear it scrapping against the dense hardwood and cement separating our businesses.

He's fucking me like he hates me, and I love that shit. I fuck him back with all the anger and hurt I feel in return. Clawing and biting him, I take everything he has to give, returning it measure for measure. The secret I kept, the pain I've endured, spills from my body and eyes. Tears mingle with sweat. I taste blood on my lips — his lips and it feels like it's my due. I take. He gives.

Hot bodies slick seeking pleasure trying to obliterate pain. We dare not speak somehow finding solace in each other.

"I'm about to come. I don't want to pull out." Pumping, he grinds his dick in me, hitting my spot, making me tighten and spasm around him.

"I have an IUD," I confess, biting his pec hard, leaving a satisfying teeth print. It only alleviates the sensory overload a little.

"Good." Thrusting against my spot, he drags my leg up, pressing in hard, shattering me. Pumping into me, he comes deep inside, meeting me as I crest on a tide of bliss. Fucking into me, he fills me with come full to overflowing.

"This is the only place I want to be, wildcat," he whispers into my hair.

I don't give him the words he wants. I can't. I learned long ago not to.