Chapter 20

Twenty

P addy

Walking up the boat's runway, Pretty followed me, as I led her to the dining table meant to host dinner. Crew members took our night bags, as I pulled Pretty's chair out for her, pushing it in when her bottom was secure.

"I can't believe you charted a boat just to have dinner," Pretty squealed in disbelief.

"Well, I know a fancy girl like you, I can't just take anywhere. Had to make due on that promise, on taking you to some place nicer," I proudly admitted, surprised a woman like her could still be shocked.

"It just feels so last minute. How were you able to plan it?"

Taking my seat across from her, I reached out for her hand, mine empty and desperate for hers. "Called in a favor from a friend. Said, as long as I could cover the expenses of the staff, I could take it out for the night. Longer if I needed to. You make a lot of friends that can do that type of thing in my line of work."

"We could have just gone to a place downtown. I would have seen your effort regardless. Seems like you went through a lot of trouble." She didn't know how much the smile this gesture brought made it that more worth the trouble.

"Pretty, you're definitely worth it. When I get to have you, I want you to feel like I'm worth it too," I said, as I pulled her chair closer to mine and gave her a light, but consuming kiss.

"You never fail to excite me," she smiled, as I pushed her seat back to its normal spot.

"Keep that energy when I'm ripping your clothes off," I flirted.

Light music played in the background, engaging every sense not focused on each other. I ain't never been much of a romantic, but something about being under the stars and Pretty looking delectable in that dress, made me long for slow dancing, stolen kisses and vigorous rumps on tabletops.

Dinner and wine were brought out to us, but I made sure to request whiskey for myself. So, imagine my surprise when Pretty turned down the wine and insisted we both take the whiskey instead.

"Well, what do you know? You might actually be Irish," I joked.

"How would you normally take it?"

"Pretty? Ain't no wrong way to drink whiskey. I usually take mine neat, but on ice? With a mixer? Neat? As long as you got whiskey in you, you're doing it right," I encouraged.

Pouring her a shot, she took hers with ice, gulping in one go. "Atta girl. Now I know you got a little Irish in you," I teased.

"Well, I like having a little Irish in me," as I felt her stockinged foot massage my crotch underneath the table.

"Ain't nothing little about me. But I am here whenever you want a lot of Irish in you." Ending my statement with a devious smile. Seeing as how there was no better time to start, after a short prayer, each of us took our utensils and dug right in.

" So …this is a date, right?"

"It can be whatever you want it to be. Date seems so benign. I'm trying to woo you, but if you want it to be something as small as a date, that's what I'll would call it."

"Well, dates aren't small to me. They're for getting to know people. I feel like we know each other's bodies intimately, but we don't know much about each other."

"What'cho want to know? My birthday? If I got a middle name? Favorite picture and things like that?" I shrugged.

"Could we start by you telling me what you actually do for a living? And not just hinting. An actual title," she slurred it out, almost like she was too nervous to finish the statement.

"Pretty, I normally don't share the full extent of what I do with women. Not because a of the trust factor," I assured. "But because it's a lot to handle, and women shouldn't have to worry about the dealings of men."

"Paddy, I'm grown. I can handle anything. Or at least I would try to with you. I just want to know you better."

Taking a sip of water, I rubbed my beard, contemplating the right way to say it. "I'm my family's lead enforcer. Things that require a certain level of violence, I take care of since I ain't afraid to die like other people. I'm also a debt collector, but I get called in when there's really only one way to solve the problem. When something that can't be paid back, I take care of them. Get rid of the problem for lack of better words. But I'm discerning," sensing by her quietness, despite the fact I choose my language well, her silence displayed her unease.

"But I don't bring work home with me. I know being a gangster ain't a job you can brag about to your mother, but being Irish closed a lot of doors for my Pa when he was already leaving Ireland from dire circumstances. Whether I liked him or not, he opened new ones in the form of our family business. It ain't glamorous, but it provides for the family, especially órfhlaith. We make sure she's taken care of because she's always taking care of us."

At that she smiled. "It's good to hear you take care of your sister." Can't believe that was the comment that stuck out to her.

"We take care of the women in our family because they're good at taking care of us. órfhlaith might be better at it, but Queenie holds her weight. We don't half arse anything in this family. What about you? Tell me about your childhood and what it was like. Hopefully it's better than mine."

"I'll admit, I did grow up poor," Pretty admitted with a sigh. "But my mother never made me feel like it. Sometimes it was hard when I was far away for music school. I didn't have years to hone my craft like wealthier kids, so you don't make many friends when you're Black and naturally better than them. But my mother worked herself to the bone to give me just a little bit more than she had. Now it's my turn to repay the favor."

"Not gonna lie, the best kind of woman to share my darkness with is a woman who can do it all. Making her get on her knees, for me, is more satisfying that way," I winked.

"Now that you bring it up," Pretty tried to keep the momentum going while the subject was still fresh. "What exactly inspired your type of foreplay?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I've never done things like that before. I'd always thought that I had anything but a tame appetite, but you're always proving me wrong," she admitted shyly, a first for her.

"The question is, do you like it?" It wasn't a requirement for a woman to be on her knees or be my sweet girl just to get my attention, but we were in a unique position. One I would never experience again, even if I tried. So, to keep it, I had to do what I had to not to lose it. It just meant never taking my clothes off.

"Maybe more than I should?" her tone diverted, like she was asking it as a question. "Like it's different. But I'm curious about why you like inflicting pain?"

"Honestly, it's not about the pain itself. The beauty comes from the aftermath. Whether you're my sweet girl, or my nightingale, there's a lot power in you letting me do things to you in a safe and controlled space. You're trusting me in that moment. Not to go too far. Not to hurt you in a way you can't handle. There ain't no bigger high than that," I boldly admitted.

"Have you always done it, or was there a time you practiced it the most?"

"Because of my curse, the darkness has always been there and wouldn't stay put until I let it out. Maybe after my discharge, the craving was harder to fight, but I'd always been drawn to pain inducing pleasure. Pleasure inducing pain. I know it's not for all women. Some like it, most don't. But when you mutually align, magic happens," I said with a lick of the top row of my teeth in a shite-eating grin.

It was all that I could do to hide the protruding thought of the last time I had ever felt magic so intensely. Years ago, back in LA. I fell for a stage actress that needed guarding. I let myself get too deep and made the mistake of thinking I could show her everything. Soon as she saw my scars, I was a freak to her. She never looked at me the same after that.

"All right, I'm done talking. I feel like dancing," I said, rising to my feet, taking her hand in mine, and leading her to a small area to slow sway to the music. Being this close to her face, obviously I was going to steal a kiss or two along the way, but I just wanted to experience something innocent with her.

"Thank you for tonight, I needed this. I feel like I'm finally finding my way back to the woman I used to be."

"Pretty, I don't want to be with the woman that you were. Not when I like the woman that you are so much better." My heart warming at the smile that comment brought.

" And especially after I've been doing some snooping."

"What do you mean by that?" She eyed my curiously.

"I may or may not have gone to the theater and caught one of your films." I smiled.

"Which one?" She followed up, wide eyed.

"You've never been lovelier?" I hesitated to admit.

"Oh God, I was so young in that," she said mortified, and tried to hide her face in her hands, but I gently pulled them away.

"I still stand by what I said. I prefer this Pretty, to any on screen version of her," I said a bite to my lip, as I reached in to caress her bum. "Nothing ever does her justice like the real thing, but I did fancy hearing my little nightingale sing."

Pretty put her arms around my neck, looking like she needed to be kissed and I was just the man to oblige her. "How long did you say we had this boat for?"

"Until eight pm tomorrow. But like I said, could be longer if I need it. Would you like a tour?" At that, her sparkling brown eyes danced, indicating a yes.

Giving her a rundown of the yacht's quarters, it wasn't long before we reached the primary place where we'd be sharing space.

"This is most likely where we'll we be resting or playing. Or maybe just fucking and sucking," I joked.

Wearing the grin of a sexually repressed minx, Pretty pulled at the belt of my trousers in an attempt to rip it through the belt holes. "Why wait? I'd like to do some of that sucking now. Take off your pants," she managed to say through a bit lip.

"No," I refused, pushing her hand away.

"Why not?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"You could blow me like this, or you don't blow me at all," I said, firm on my boundary of not wanting to undress.

Pretty blew out of a breath she accompanied with an eye roll I was going to make her pay for. "I don't understand you sometimes. It felt like all the last times, you were just horny and couldn't wait long enough to undress, but now you're saying we're never going to have sex without your clothes off?"

It did sound strange when you said it out loud, but those had always been my terms. No one had ever questioned them until now.

"You're so confusing. You charter a boat to surprise me, but you won't even take your clothes off for me?"

"I always get you there, don't I?" I was aware that I was starting to sound offensive, but I wanted this night to go well. It was already heading in a direction I hadn't planned.

"Yeah, but that's beside the point. Sometimes I just want to feel your skin on mine. I want to hold you while we make love. But I guess all you ever want to do is fuck me?—"

"Pretty," I interrupted. "I'm going to level with you, and I'm going to need you not to speak until I'm done. Me not wanting to take my clothes off is more for you, not me."

"What does that even mean?" Another interruption I was going to make her pay for.

"I told you that I got injured from my discharge. Well…I didn't come back the same. I've got a…" I stumbled, unable to help my stammer of having to say it out loud. "I've got a deformity that's not ever going away. This sight of it disturbs people. When you look at me, you see someone you're attracted to, not someone who makes you uncomfortable. And I really fancy being with you?—"

"Paddy, I love being with you. I'm sure it's not that bad?—"

"Pretty, trust me. It is. I've been called a pretty boy all my life, but…I ain't so pretty without my clothes on." I admitted ashamed.

She sat up from the bed and cupped my face in her hands. "I just don't want you to look at me different," I admitted weakly, unsure of where my voice went.

"Paddy, there's nothing about you that I could see that would ever make me change my mind about you. I don't just like your face. I don't just like your dick. I like all of you. I want to be with all of you. The way you are with all of me," she said, as she leaned in for a kiss that I didn't return.

"I can't…" I said, catching my stammer. "I won't be able to do it. If you want my clothes off, you would have to do it." My voice low and nervous, as she smiled longingly at me and pushed my suit jacket down my shoulders and onto the floor.

My breathing started hitching, as slowly, she undid each button on my dress shirt. Pulling the undershirt over my head, she bit her lip and ran her manicured fingers on my belt buckle. I had never been this scared before, not overseas, not even with Pa.

Pulling my belt from each individual loop, I nearly stopped her hand, but she bent down, easing some of the guilt and shame I felt by running her soft hands and gentle lips along my stomach. It was nice. Since my discharge, no one's really kissed my body lower than the neck.

I hadn't realized how much my body missed attention, but she hadn't seen anything yet, and I doubt she would be this affectionate when she got to the real reason I didn't take my pants off for intimate partners.

Pretty teased, taking her time unbuttoning, then unzipping my trousers, as I had never been more grateful to have not forgotten my leg sleeve that was securely snug on my leg when she pulled down my pants. She pushed my bum into the mattress, and I was sweating bullets, as the moment of truth was nearly upon us.

She started to roll the sleeve down, and I was reminded of the look on the face of the first woman I'd been vulnerable with. There was so much shame, so much disgust. Honestly, it was the opposite of the look Pretty was giving me.

It could have been worse, but just below my lower thigh, my leg was mutilated, healed over but heavily charred from the accident. I didn't really appreciate what it was like to have even skin until my accident. Now, my other leg just stood as a reminder that this one was never going to look normal. It was all types of textures and colors that contrast greatly against my pale skin, and it went all the way down to just where my ankle and foot met.

Having Pretty see me like this, I genuinely felt like dying.

Pretty bent down and kissed where the damage was most severe, but didn't stop there, as her hands explored the worst of it. Outside of washing it, I never cared much for lingering at it and always opted for my sleeve to forget that it was there.

"Paddy, I think you're beautiful. And brave. If the world can't see that, it just ain't ready for you or worthy enough to have you." She crawled on the bed to kiss me and all that tension of feeling like I was about to break finally overwhelmed with me.

"You're the one who's so fucking beautiful," I murmured between kisses, as any attempt to mount her was thwarted by her shifting against my weight.

"Stop trying to have sex with me," she smiled. "I still have to suck your dick so good you can't walk," her tone, jovial.

"I'd like to see you try it. Ain't nobody out doing me when it comes to the way I eat pussy." She pushed me down on my back and pulled down my boxers. Not gonna lie, it was still hard to look down at my leg without losing some confidence in myself. But Pretty made me gain some of my swagger back. Never thought I'd see the day a woman could accept me.

"We'll see about that," Pretty cooed, stretching her body just enough to start playing with my pecker.

She took things slow, but was deliberate. Stroking, light touches and a kiss in between teasing. But things took a dangerous turn when she took my cock in her mouth, nursing the part she couldn't fit with her two hands.

"Mmm…wait," I growled, unprepared for how expertly her hands could corkscrew my cock, as she stopped to spit on my length for more glide. Her tongue worked up the head and sensitive skin underneath that, and it wasn't long before I was holding on to dear life.

Beautiful eyes studied me, as I traced my fingers alongside hollowed cheeks, fighting against the weakness her mouth made me feel. "Daddy's gonna come in that dirty little mouth, you fucking nasty little whore." But that had been the only thing I had been able to say in a collected voice.

Everything that came next was certainly a loss of control. "Oh, my sweet girl. Oh, fuck. Jesus Christ, I just love that you know what you're doing," I moaned, and I threw my head back as she sucked at me so good. Shite! I could hardly even see straight.

Heat, blood, pressure, all met at my center as Pretty's consistent licking and bobbing made my soul leave my body. I was sure I was seeing God for the first time. Straining against the energy draining suck, my body finally gave in, shooting streams of warm ribbons on her tongue, followed by my groaning, growing less manageable and less control.

And then she had the audacity to lick the cum still dripping from my hole, as if she couldn't be more attractively disgusting.

"Dammit, Pretty. You're nothing if not a woman of her word." She crawled up to my face, looking at me the way a man needed to be looked at by a woman. Like she respected me. Cared about me. Most of all, like she needed me.

Kissing my neck, she fell into a rhythm of appreciating my body, something she had never gotten to do until now. In a combination of kissing and exploring my tattoos, I finally sat up in need of giving myself that same serotonin she was getting from me.

"Let me just get this dress off you, so I can make you feel nice." She stopped long enough for me to zip down her cocktail dress and throw it to the ground. I could have touched her through her clothes, but I wanted her just as bare as me, as I did away with her bra and knickers.

It was only just now that I realized she was still in her heels, as she kicked them off, revealing her Cuban heeled stockinged toes. Doing away with her garter straps, I pulled down her stockings, and it wasn't long before they joined the floor with the rest of our clothes.

Pulling her in close to me, I stuck my fingers between her folds from behind, looking into her eyes, making sure I could see how far along I'd have to get that glassed over look in her eyes that I craved.

She couldn't have looked lovelier, naked for me, surrendering to pleasure, but somehow, she always managed to. I entertained kisses for now, but she'd given me several reasons to discipline her and I wouldn't soon forget that. Giving in to reward her was just coming so natural to me, because I didn't think she'd even want to touch me, let alone make love to me again if she saw me for who I really was.

No one had ever accepted my flaws, so I didn't think it was possible. It'd been wishful thinking for me to think otherwise. I'd never felt so lucky. It was the first time I genuinely felt good about something. Someone .

Pretty, lacking the patience I usually had when it came to pleasing, didn't want me to take my time. She wanted it now. "Fuck me, Daddy. Please , just make me your sweet girl again," as she laughed, turning around to see that I was hard again given how little ago I'd climaxed.

"It's your fault. You're so damn sexy." Sitting up, I took her hips, pulling and adjusting her close to me, thrusting all of me into that beautiful fucking pussy, where it felt right at home.

Giving it to her easy at first, I brought her feet to my chest, preparing her for when I was really gonna give it to her, so she was in a position where she couldn't run away from my cock. "You like it when Daddy fucks his sweet little girl?" I growled through hitched breaths, competing with the sound of slapping skin.

"Daddy, I know you can do better. Use me like you've never used me. Fuck me like a worthless whore," she demanded, as I took her ankles in my hands, pinning her open thighs and feet against the bed, pounding away.

The contrast of our bodies, her soft to my hard. Her warm brown to my mostly pale, was captivating. But more so was how wet her cunt was, that I couldn't resist teasing it, letting go of her ankles, to play with it a little. She squirmed and squealed, but she wasn't exactly stopping me, so I played with it until she sung for me.

Then I don't know what came over me. Suddenly, my thrusts came to a slow and I was leaning in, meeting her skin to skin. It'd been so long since I lost myself this way, even her wrapping her legs and arms around me felt foreign, but I liked it, and I wasn't sure I could ever go back to a time where I didn't have it.

I kissed Pretty or rather, we fell into a rhythm of slow sex and kissing that honestly made me feel like it was the best sex I had ever had. Maybe it was. With Pretty, I didn't have to hide anymore.

Looking into Pretty's eyes, I felt scared, but safe at the same time. She was slowly becoming my world and in more than just a sexual way. I didn't know what to do about it.

"How's my sweet girl?" I whispered. "Is my sweet girl gonna come for me?"

"Mmmhmm..." She nodded, as I gave her tender but deeper strokes, seeing that she was closer than I thought.

"Come from me, sweet girl," I whispered again, satisfied when she held me closer succumbing to the deeper thrusts.

"Fuck," she cried out, biting my shoulder, completely taxed and worn out. Her climax relaxed me enough to get let go of myself.

"Is my sweet girl ready for Daddy's cum?"

"Mmmhmm…"

" Say it . Tell me what with your words."

"Cum inside me. Come inside your sweet girl." At her pleading, my hips buckled and my virality and prowess calmed in three final strokes. Lightly leaning in for a kiss, Pretty looked so damn beautiful in her afterglow, a combination of her sweat and mine.

For a while we just laid there, cuddling in silence, like nothing else really mattered. In that moment, nothing really did matter. Nothing but me and her.