Page 64 of Creole Kingpin
She squeezed hard and jacked me until she saw pre-cum bead at the tip.
“Maybe I should just suck your dick until you shoot your load all over my tits,” she murmured, those whiskey eyes turning greedy as they locked on my dick. “Because, goddamn, do you have a perfect cock. You and your Moby Dick.”
“And you’ve got the perfect tits.” I reached for her shirt and pulled it up to get it off her, but she slapped my hands away.
“Mind your stitches,” she said as she released my dick to strip her shirt off herself.
“Okay, mama.”
That got a smile out of her, right before her mouth covered the head of my cock, and I forgot everything except how fucking glad I was that I’d taken the call that brought me to New Orleans ... no matter the consequences.
* * *
Present day
I drag myself out of the memory, hating the choices I had to make, because they took me away from Magnolia. If it wasn’t for the path I took, I could have been the guy she played chess with all these years. We could have had alifetogether.
But we didn’t get that.
Because of me.
Thirty-Nine
Magnolia
If that man thinks that he can just put me in the back of a car and shut me in here until he’s ready to deal with me, he’s dead wrong. And if he thinks a woman scorned has fury, he’s not seen me mad yet.
I amnotthe kind of woman who does what she’s told, or is seen and not heard.
Fuck that.
With every mile we drive, I get more and more pissed off. I mentally rehearse exactly what I’ll say to him the second he opens that damn door.
If you came back to win me back, you’re doing it the wrong fucking way. Because I’m not the kind of woman who will let you steamroll me. I don’t care if you drive a Rolls Royce, you don’t just put a person in the back and ignore them the whole way home. You could at leasttalk to meabout why you’re so damn pissed off.
Finally, I realize we’renotgoing back to my house like I thought we were. We’re in the Marigny when we slow and turn into a driveway. There’s a pause before we move forward again.
The hell?
I’m determined to get some goddamned answers, do some yelling, and then march my ass home if I have to.
When the engine shuts off, I reach for the door handle and yank on it. But it won’t open. With a growl,I start pushing buttons, but none of them unlock the door from the inside.
What the hell? Hedid notlock me inside here. No fucking way.
I hear the driver’s door open and shut, and I expect Moses to let me out immediately.
Boy, am Iready.
But he doesn’t come open my door.
What in the actual fuck?
I crane my neck to see outside the window, but it’s pitch black, and I can’t make out anything.
“You’d best not fucking leave me in here! Let me out!” I yell, and my words echo in the tightly sealed cabin of the Rolls. Suddenly, the door pops open, and I open my mouth to unleash hell on Moses—but it’s not his face I see.
It’s Jules.
