my soft lips.
“Good girl.” An asymmetric grin pulls his lips up.
“Becca.” I don’t know why, but I correct him. No one calls me Rebecca. Only my mother, when she was mad at me. When I disappointed her. I don’t want him calling me that. Shit, I’d rather he call me his dirty slut again than Rebecca.
“Becca,” he repeats to me. “I like that even better,” he mutters under his breath, and then leaves. I watch as he gets into a silver car without looking back at me. I quickly close the door and lean my back against it. My mind replays everything that happened as my fingertips touch my lips.
What the fuck did I just do?
Dom
What the fuck just happened? I went there to smooth shit over and apologize. I start the ignition and run my hand through my hair. I lean back against the seat and take a look back at her house.
A two-story, single family home. Where the fuck is her picket fence?
Her door’s closed. She didn’t even wait to watch me leave. Probably has to clean up all the evidence that she was with me. For some reason, that really fucking hurts. But then I remember she’s got a little boy. And fuck that, I don’t want to be here and have to do all that shit. I just wanted to get laid. And I did. I pull out and snort at a few of the houses that actually do have white picket fences.
But why does it feel so… wrong? It was hot as fuck. I’ve never had a woman who wanted to do that, to fight me like that. I groan, leaning my head back against the seat as I pull up to a red light. That was fucking hot. My fingers graze the skin of my neck. She fucking bit me. My Becca is one kinky bitch.
The cocky grin on my lips slips as I remember how she looked after. Not after I got done fucking her. She was gorgeous when she came on my dick. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she tried to fight her need to scream in pleasure. The memory makes me want to fuck her again. Right now. This broad keeps me wanting to go back for more. I shake my head, not quite knowing how I feel about it all.
I feel a little used, to be honest. I fucking enjoyed it, but damn, did she have to kick me out right fucking then? The aftershocks were probably still racing through her body when she shut the damn door.
She should’ve at least taken me to dinner if she was gonna fuck me like that. I bark a laugh out at my little joke.
Okay, okay. Now I know what I’m working with. If we’re gonna keep fucking, I know exactly where I stand with her. I’d be her dirty, little secret. Usually women brag about fucking me. There’s no way Becca will.
As I pull up to the house, my phone goes off. I look at the monitor on the dashboard and see it’s Vince. I park the car in the driveway, but leave it running.
“Yeah?” I ask him. I don’t really feel like fucking around. I want to get inside and look at my schedule. I gotta figure out when I’m hooking up with my doll again.
“We got a problem.” I don’t like his tone. My blood runs ice cold.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Detective Marshall took Jack in.” Hearing that name pisses me off. Jack’s ex threatened to go to him. You don’t threaten a mobster, even if he’s your husband. And you sure as fuck don’t use names either. 'Cause that means you’ve already talked to law enforcement.
“What’s he got on him?” I ask.
“Nothing. But we all need to lay low for now.”
“Why’d he get picked up?” Marshall is always trying to hunt us down and pin anything he can on us. Every stupid thing used to get us taken in. Now they’re careful, since Pops threatened a lawsuit and the judge in his pocket is on our side.
“Expired license.” He’s gotta be shitting me.
“Are you fucking serious?” I practically yell.
“Yeah, just lay low, Dom,” he answers with a pissed off tone. Jack should fucking know better.
“Not a problem.” My hands twist the steering wheel. I always lay low. I’m not out there like the rest of them.
“Yeah, it is a problem.” My brow furrows. The fuck it is? “Don’t you remember what happened yesterday?”
I close my eyes