Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

K andie

"Ouch." The ache in my shoulder is a problem further aggravated by the large water can I'm wielding to feed my plants their much-needed nutrients. Down here, you have to water twice a day when the weather gets hot or all your hard work will be for nothing. The sun is unforgiving, and the soil is hard, but a little work and a lot of love will yield a blessing, as Pa-Pete always likes to say. Nobody's sure if he means crops, gunrunning, the illegal liquor, or gambling he and Mama-Pete ran throughout the state, but it seemed to fit a little bit of everything.

"Look at your pretty self," I say to the grape tomato plant I use for my house salad. Taking one, I pop it in my mouth. "Delicious," I hum around the sweet tartness bursting on my tongue. This may be the brightest part of my day. Especially after Ulysses' rude ass and Oz's even ruder ass.

I can't believe the way he yelled at me, and the way Mama and Pa-Pete sat there amening like he was the newly minted preacher at the Second Baptist Church.

His killing ass talking about him going to give all of us girl cousins a safety briefing. Obviously, he has way too much time on his hands.

Between him and Xander-Rafe LeRoi, all of us will be invincible. Not that we don't have more male cousins who can look out for us, it's just that Xander is part of a specialized unit on the Birmingham Police Department and Oz started out as a killer and even though he runs his business now he still likes his original job too much to give it up completely.

My family, like most down here, has folks on both sides of the law. That's just the way it is. People do what they must to survive. We don't judge them, we just love them. Hell, ain't that what you're supposed to do? Just be honest about it. What we can't stand is folks like the Shelbys who pretend to be upstanding when they smuggle vulnerable people to exploit, then push legislation in the state to criminalize those very same people.

"There you go," I murmur to the pretty Love Roses I transplanted from the bush I had at my little dollhouse behind my grandparents' garden when I couldn't stand to live there anymore.

My heart squeezes thinking back to that time years ago when I was so alone and afraid not knowing who I could turn to. I was lost for a long time after that. If Nikki hadn't shown up when she did, I don't think I would have ever found myself out of the hole I put myself in.

Which reminds me, I need to give her a buzz. Pulling the phone out of my back pocket, I press her icon.

"Hey, sweet baby, sis. Ready for your graduation?" I ask as soon as she answers the phone.

"Hey, pretty girl," she pauses, I know trying to see if I'm drinking. I am, but she won't be able to tell. I never call my sister tipsy no matter how sad I get at times missing Kerania, Daddy, and Mommy.

Focus on what you have — the only thing said to me that ever made sense. And it wasn't from a therapist but my uncle, Spence who misses his sister, my mommy as much as I do, who told me those sage words.

"I'm super excited," she says, all bubbly.

"Why didn't you come to Sunday dinner? You know Mama-Pete already said that church is not a prerequisite." I make my voice gentle, knowing this is an ongoing battle with my sister, who knew firsthand how unreliable and unaccepting family could be. Only for Daddy those thoughts were clouded by his illness. Our family came through, only he never got to see that. Fleeing with Mommy and Nikki, then losing Mom — his rock soon after only increased his paranoia. He couldn't keep it together long enough to come and get us. From what Nikki said, he had grandiose fantasies about us reuniting, but could never make it happen because he would have a setback. She told me his last clear instruction was telling her to come find us. I'm kind of glad he never knew Kerania was also lost. I have never been able to say she died because I still see her in my dreams and as crazy as it seems, I can still feel her.

If I hadn't seen the evidence, I would swear she's still alive. The only reason I stopped insisting she was alive was because I thought they would put me in Bryce Hospital the same way they did Mommy and Daddy.

"I had a lot to do. Next week I promise." I know she'll keep her word.

"I'll make your favorite pecan pie and—" I start to list her favorites.

"Kandie, you don't have to make me anything. In fact, if you do, I'm not coming," her firm voice cuts through. "You don't have to make me anything for me to come see you. In fact, you don't have to do anything, big sis." Her soft words hit me right in the unhealed wounds of abandonment and self-worth I've left open and bleeding for all to see.

"Well." I can't form words. "At least let me make something special for your graduation."

"Now that you can do. Nothing elaborate though and just for me, don't try to feed everyone. Promise me." I can just imagine the steely determination on her face.

"Sounds a little selfish but okay," I say before we say our goodbyes.

How is it I feel better and worse at the same time? Do I do that? Try to win people over by baking things for them? Is that why I offered to make Marlene whatever she craved? Offered to make Aliah something special for her birthday. Is that why I give more away than I sell at bake sales and find myself barely breaking even some months?

Mulling over my sister's words, it takes me a moment to realize I hear distinct male voices speaking in Spanish. One thing I know for sure is that every business is closed and Mr. and Mrs. Lopez's little flower shop is not open on Sundays and they don't have a delivery until Tuesday, just like me. So why are people talking behind our businesses?

Making sure the metal chair doesn't squeak, I creep over to the roof facing the back of our businesses.

Peeking between my pretty hydrangea, sunflower, and daffodil planters I bite my lip until it bleeds watching Ulysses' no-good ass take a thick ass envelope straight from the hands of Angel Cruz the president of the local outlaw biker club who is rumored to be in the cartel. Leaning forward, I try to listen, having picked up Spanish from the messed-up children's home all those years ago. Thanks to my memory, I never forgot it or anything else that happened all those years ago. At least some good came out of it.

"We'll meet at the same warehouse as last time," Angel is saying in Spanish. "That's five bands."

"How many this time?" Ulysses seems to be frowning. What, fifty-K not enough for your dirty ass? I think to myself.

"Maybe two and a half dozen," Angel says so coldly, I shiver. How he can trade his own people like this is frightening. It doesn't take a genius to know he's talking about moving people across the border.

"That's too many," Ulysses complains, but his ass has no problem stuffing the envelope that's too big for his pocket in the back of his jeans, then pulling his shirt down over it.

"Be glad it's not fifty. We are lucky it's not more," Angel says dryly.

"What about that other thing I asked for?" I hear Ulysses ask with an urgency I've never heard before.

"Ah, anything for your mom." Then Angel pauses, pulling out a much smaller packet. It rattles like pills. "It is for your mom, right? You ain't on this shit, are you? I don't deal with junkies." Angel's cold deadly voice has me leaning over further too far because the daffodil starts falling before I have a chance to grab it. Like a dumbass, I stay leaning over the side a moment too long as both men hear the loud scrap of the planter sliding from the roof and look up at the same time. I pull back, but not before my eyes lock with a glacial blue gaze.

I snatch myself back so hard I fall against the little table, jostling my glass of wine enough that it topples from the table, crashing into a thousand bits on the concrete roof.

My heart is thumping a thousand beats a minute as I scramble up from where I fell. All I hear is their words about trafficking people. Thirty people. Jeeze Louise.

My heart hurts. As I climb down the fire escape leading back to the small balcony outside of my loft, I realize the reason I can't see is because I'm crying. Am I crying because there are thirty people being trafficked or because the man I only called a dirty ass cop to get under his skin has actually turned out to be one?

No sooner than I enter my place from the French doors I had custom-made and put in by my uncle Charles is someone banging on my door.

"Who is it?" I deliberately change the cadence of my words, so that I sound way more tipsy than I am.

"You know who it is," comes the hard voice through the door. I grab a half-full bottle of Cooper and Thief I opened when I got home from Sunday dinner at my grandparents' house.

Other than my incident, we talked about the upcoming revival and the guest preacher Rev. Tim Davis who is what Mama-Pete calls a souls deliverer which Oz's crazy-ass chimed in to say, "I can guarantee between the three of us at this table that we've brought more souls to the Lord than him." Which earned him a swat from Mama-Pete and a chuckle from Pa-Pete.

Revival is next week but I won't be able to attend since it runs across my business hours and though Oz is here, he's going to be coming and going. Pa-Pete assured me my cousin Ezekiel-Jane would be here, so I don't have to worry about taking Mama-Pete and risk getting put in jail for driving without a license. That's the least of my worries with the law around these parts.

"Whatchu want, Ulysses?" I singsong, swinging the door open wide. There's no equally big biker behind him, so I breathe a little internal sigh of relief. My chances won't be much better, but I maybe can talk myself out of trouble.

"Why were you on the roof?" He looks behind me into my loft, taking in every aspect of my space. I can't help thinking he's judging me in some way. Why that bothers me, I don't take the time to evaluate.

"Because it's my roof. Why were you in my alleyway? You stalking me?" Leaning against the doorjamb, I take a swig straight from the bottle while blocking him from stepping further into my place. He'll have to kill me right here, and I'm not going to make it easy for his low-down tail.

"I asked you a fucking question," he thunders with a quiet ferocity that sends wild pulses straight to my kittykat. Damn, he's sexy when he's all mean, and why do I like that so much? More stuff I'm not about to evaluate.

"Boy, if you don't get out from in front of my door with this bullshit. I'm about to have company and you are a big ass hinderance to my plans if you must know," I say, hoping that he'll believe the lie and leave. Moving to take another fake sip, I gasp when he snatches the bottle, throwing it behind him into the side street.

"What the fuck?" I screech at him, seeing the bottle smashing against the asphalt of my pristine side street. Lunging at him, I shove at his big chest. "That's going to stain the street," I yell at him. "Your uncouth ass is going to clean that up. I'm sending the city the bill for power washing my street."

Trying to get past his big body is fruitless, especially when he grabs me by my waist, hoisting my body high. No matter how much I kick, I can't dislodge him.

Kicking my door closed, he stalks over to my bed, tossing me on it.

"Call him," he orders, turning, going over to the door, locking it.

Turning back to me, he comes back to the bed, his chest heaving like he's ran the whole length of the town ten times.

"Do as I say," he says in a low, deadly tone.

"Huh? You sound dumb as fuck." I lean on one arm, sizing him up, raking my eyes over him from head to toe. Crossing one leg over the other, I kick it out idly.

"Who are you having to come fuck you this time?" he asks in an awful voice, like it's a different person every night.

Trying so hard not to let it bother me, I tilt my head to the side. "Why do you care? Don't you need to go over to LaShaun's house and give her some of your little dick and drink a gallon of that diabetes tea?" I grin wildly to cover the hurt and jealousy eating at me since I saw the way he was looking at her at the church's bake sale.

"Funny, you didn't have any complaints when you used to beg to wrap both sets of those pretty ass lips around it." His eyes train on my legs for a hot minute before his eyes meet mine. The heat there would incinerate a lesser woman. I'm made of sterner stuff — well, kinda.

"Good thing I don't do charity cases anymore." I smirk. Then for some reason I want to push him, maybe even hurt him a little when I say, "Plus, I didn't know any better then. I've had way better than your dumb fumbling and poking and missed plays, which was kinda like your football playing, really." Everybody knows when and why his football career died — the same time his daddy did. I'm almost too mad to care — almost.

Silence drops between us like a death knell. The atmosphere is so charged it's like when a nuke sucks all the energy into itself right before it releases annihilating pressure.

He stands incredibly still. He holds himself so still it's frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

Tilting his head, he shuts his eyes tight, like he's fighting a battle for his entire soul. His jaw tics. His neck flexes. He swallows so hard his Adam's apple bobs. Chest expanding, he drops his head into his chest and inhales deeply. Then again, and again.

I know the moment he's given up the fight. It's when he trains those ice blue orbs on me. Muscles ticking in his jaw, flexing his arms, he drops down to the bed. I scramble back, trying to get off the other side. He snatches my legs, drawing me close to him as he cages my body beneath his. Burying his head in my neck, I can feel the warm heat as he breathes me in.

"Let's put that theory to the test, shall we?" The low rumble sends vibrations cascading through my body, settling low in my belly. I would squeeze my thighs to alleviate the pressure, but Ulysses is the pressure. He's squeezed tightly against me. His dick is hard against my pussy. I can feel myself already getting wet for him. Soon he will know it too.

"Wildcat," he whispers, calling me the name he has for me.

Turning to meet his heated twin flames of blue, I ask, "Yes?" My voice sounds soft, like a welcome.

He shifts and I can't help but respond. My legs open more for him. I want to bite him, just till I almost break the skin just a little, maybe a lot, but I want his flesh in my mouth.

"Did you miss me — just a little?" There's a sweet vulnerability there. Defenses I've taken years to put into place seem to melt away like an icy cup in the summer.

"You know I did." Not able to meet his eyes, I look at his firm lips instead. Why did I do that? He licks his bottom lip before biting it. I bite my own lip to keep from biting his.

Tipping my chin, he makes me look at him. "You know what I'm asking."

"Yeah." I nod.

"Are you going to let me taste your sweetness?" The sound of his voice sends reverberations through mine. We aren't fighting anymore. I nod.

"Are you going to let me split you apart and find my home in your hot little pussy?" Liquid heat slips past my pussy lips. His eyes dip down. He knows, but just waits for the answer my body's already giving him.

"Yeah." The word escapes on a gasp as I feel him flex.

"Are you going to clean up your mess like a good girl?" His voice is rough as he rubs the scarred side of his face against mine again, waiting. My body clenches. He pulls back his piercing blue gaze, demanding that I answer.

"Ohmygoodness, U." Whimpering, I pull him down, taking his lips.

The hint of my caramel cake still lingers on his lips. His tongue is even sweeter. Delving into the depths, I explore him with languid strokes, giving him me in return. He is delicious. Dreams and nightmares cannot compare to reality.

Angling my neck, he positions me so he can take command. Again and again, he spears his tongue into my mouth. I couldn't deny him if I wished. His dominance permeates the encounter as he starts fucking my mouth, making me suck his tongue as he consumes mine in long pulls. Teasing me, he makes me pull him close for more, letting me take as much as I can until I pull back, panting.

There is no reprieve. He moves lower, peppering kisses and bites along my neck. I know he's marking me as his and I can't bring myself to complain. He thinks to ruin me for any other man, not realizing he did that a long time ago.

Pulling my dress down, he looks at my lace bra and the way my nipples press against the fabric. Looking down, I watch him covering one with his mouth while he pinches the other with a steady, almost painful pressure that makes my kitty flood.

"Damn girl, I can feel your pussy begging to be filled up," he says right before pulling back to rake his tongue over the distended bud. This man is diabolical moving to the other, giving my second breast the same treatment.

"Damn, U." Gripping his head, I draw him closer, keeping him right where I need him. He knows what he's doing. He has me squirming now.

Instead of releasing them from their lace prison, he moves lower, kissing the softness of my belly. He buries his face in the dips and folds of my flesh, licking and inhaling as if I'm his favorite treat.

The lower he goes, the more apprehension seeps in. The first blush of desire fades and my mind starts working. Memories flood of what I faced the last time he loved me and left. I can feel myself starting to spiral. My hand grips the duvet. I swallow, trying to stay in the moment, but the more I try, the more elusive it becomes.

"Kandice." His words, though soft, cut through like the precision of a perfectly applied buttercream.

"We can stop." He stills. "You said you had company coming." He starts to pull back. Anger with resolve licking on its heel plays on every hard ridge of his face. His taunt skin pulls tight as he makes to move away.

"There's not." Reaching for his arm, I stop him, not caring that I'm giving up my way out. "I just said that to make you mad."

Leaning down, he presses his forehead against mine. He presses hard. "You did." He nips my top lip, making it sting.

Lifting up, he regards me with hard eyes. "If we do this, then we do this, and you're not fucking anyone else while I'm with you."

Inhaling, I take in a hint of caramel and sugar cane. Why does he smell like the Shelby sugar cane fields?

"Wildcat?" Making myself focus on his words, I frown and he frowns back.

"Why is it just me not fucking anyone? What about you?" I demand, pushing his chest, though he doesn't budge.

"That goes without saying." He's dead serious. I believe him. I don't like his assumptions, but I hold myself in check, knowing I worked to make that assumption true.

Carefree. Free loving. Never a threat. Unbothered and busy baking the best treats in town. And the hottest tea straight from the Shelby-Love streets. That's Kandie Love.

Gaze locked on mine, his hand moves between us, snaking down until he reaches the hem of my dress. Slowly, he drags it up. Cool air touches my drenched flesh right before he pulls back to look between us.

"Still not wearing panties?" The question drifts between us with an ominous thread. I don't answer.

"So you were skinning and grinning with that little pastor and all the men at the church today with your pussy out?"

In one swift move, he's face to face with my sugar cake. He trains his gaze on her like a long-lost friend.

"She's wet for me, though, right?" Dragging a long, tapered finger between my lips, he opens me further. "I'm the one she longs for, aren't I?" His whispered breath brushes against me, causing all kinds of naughty sensations to emanate from the most secret place on my body.

Slipping the same long finger inside of me, he presses a kiss right behind it. "You know no one else is going to cherish her the way she deserves. Fuck you're tight." He groans slowly, working his finger into my tight sheath.

"Why you so quiet? You had so much mouth before?" he teases, his eyes flicking between me and the work he's putting in on my pussy. I'm just trying to enjoy myself, sir, and not have a meltdown at the same time, but I can't say that because it will lead to more talking about things neither of us is ready to hear.

"Open some more for me," he says, nudging me with his shoulders.

Complying, I whimper, feeling the delicious burn as he works his finger inside. "I bet you can take one more." I quiver when he adds another.

"Damn, girl," he curses. "So fucking snug. Never forgot this grip, but reality is so much better. Look at the way your clit buds." Leaning forward, his mouth covers me, sucking in deep drags while swirling his tongue at the same time. If it was his intention to ruin me, he's more than accomplishing his goal.

Arching into his mouth, I grind against his tongue. My body is so primed and ready for his touch — his claiming. The pressure builds so fast I'm insensate. I need this so badly.

Casting my eyes down, I'm struck by the view of his blond head buried between my legs. Feeling the lap of his tongue against my distended clit as his fingers ruthlessly work me is truly a sight to behold. I fuck his face. Spreading my legs wider seems to be the only invitation he needs to piston his fingers inside me with a savagery that makes my toes curl. The pain and pleasure is almost too much but obviously not enough because I'm begging for more.

"Please U, I need?—"

Not stopping, he presses up while using his tongue with vicious precision to annihilate me. "Ulysses." His name is both a prayer and a curse on my lips as he catapults me into a universe of pleasure. Aching and grinding, I splay myself open, a willing sacrifice to his every whim.

He burrows deeper, licking the essence pouring from my body. Spreading me wider, his mouth drags from ass to clit, licking all of me with long swathes of his tongue.

Rising to his knees, he rips his Henley over his head, tossing it away like it offends him. His hands go to that big ass cowboy belt buckle I remember so well his eyes never leave me. Self-conscious of his unwavering gaze, I move to close my spread legs.

"Ow," I say, kicking his hard thigh with my foot when I feel the sting of his hand on my thigh.

"Then don't try to hide what's mine from me," he says simply, unbuttoning the fly of his jeans, pushing them down his hips.

"Come here and wet the tip." Grabbing the base for me, he holds himself tight around the base.

Moving to my knees, I cover the tip with my mouth, then move back, looking at him. Edging closer, I cover his flesh right above his flat nipple and sink my teeth in.

"Hell, yeah. You still like biting motherfuckers, huh?" he growls, holding me close as I let the pleasure of my biting roll over me like warm hugs. My nipples get harder, my pussy wetter.

"Again," he orders.

I do as he says before pulling back again to look into his ice-blue eyes.

"Again," deeper, harder this time, his voice commands.

I can feel the slickness between my legs but know better than to touch myself when he's around.

His dick bobs, needing attention.

This time when I cover him, he grips the back of my neck, holding me in place. "Take me down your throat, wildcat," he urges, pushing to the back of my throat with a steady thrust.

"That's it. That's it right there." Slowly rolling his hips, he fucks my mouth with relentless savagery. Already pleasured beyond measure, my body wants more. As if sensing my need, Ulysses runs his hand along my spine until he reaches my bottom.

Hand delving in, he grazes my back entrance with his thumb as he plunges two fingers inside my pussy. I gasp when he pulls his fingers free to coat me and push his thumb inside a little.

"So you kept this one just for me?" he growls, holding me steady to fuck my mouth as his fingers and thumb use my other holes.

"Fuck yeah." His hips pump harder, and I can do nothing but take him as he takes my mouth like he owns it. "Come for me, wildcat."

My body tightens and I meet his fingers coming on his hands.

Slipping his hard as fuck dick free from my mouth, he works his jeans the rest of the way off. "Get on your knees — head down, ass up, and open that pussy wide for me."

Doing as he says, on my knees, laying my head so the side of my face rests on the down comforter, reaching behind me, I open my bottom cheeks, showing him all of me.

"Fat pretty ass pussy." Bending behind me, he licks me again and again, sucking my clit, tongue fucking me, bringing me to the edge again and again.

"Please, U, I can't —" I pant after he denies my orgasm a third time.

He swats my ass. "And you think I can? Watching you prance around town like you do and you not even acknowledging me?" My face burns at how raw with hurt his voice sounds. Little did he know he tortured me, too. I know better than to say anything. Not even an apology will serve me now.

He positions himself behind me. "Down, like a good little wildcat." Placing his hand between my shoulder blades, he presses me down until my breasts are smushed against the duvet. "Just like that." Murmuring, he positions himself at my entrance. The big head of his dick splits me just as he said. I feel the stretch as he pushes in. My muscles squeeze tight, resisting. My own juices, barely easing the way.

"Shh," he soothes at my whimper. "You can take it. You took me as a virgin. You can take me now." He doesn't stop and I don't want him to. My body slowly adjusts. I push back, trying to meet his relentless drive inward.

"Look at how she's sucking me in, taking me." He massages my bottom, spreading me wider. "Fuck," he nearly shouts as he bottoms out. I can feel his heavy sac pressed tight against my exposed flesh grazing my sensitive clit.

Giving me a few moments to catch my breath, he starts fucking.

"Ohmygoodness." My cry is muffled by the duvet and his rhythm and thrusts drive me into the bed, taking my pleasure higher and higher.

I know his grip is going to leave bruises on my hips, but I don't care. The bites I left on his chest make us even.

His thrusts turn from smooth strokes to merciless pistons as his hips slam into me again and again. I lose myself in the savage decadence of the pleasure he's pounding into me.

"Fuck me, U," I beg, tears falling out of the corner of my eyes as he tears down every defense I ever had, giving me bliss so long denied.

"I knew it was going to be like this with you," he growls, driving into me. "Nothing's changed." Gripping my hair, he bends his big body over me, fucking me like a savage. "Do you fucking hear me, wildcat? It was never over between us."

He grinds so hard into me, hitting my spot. My breath seizes. I'm shattered. Ruined. His.

He keeps fucking me until I finally feel his dick kicking his release into me, filling me until he overflows.

"Get your ass up and clean me," he growls, dragging my supine form up and around, making me lick him clean.

"I hope you know you fucked up tonight letting me have you again." Meeting the hard mix of unmitigated passion and determination in his gaze I realize how true it is.