A Gangster and a Gentleman Page 18

“And what the fuck do you know about being a gentleman?”

  Drawing a deep breath, he thought about that for a moment. “Not much.”

  “Exactly.” She crossed her arms beneath her chest and then dragged her sexy green eyes over him from head to toe.

  After clocking a full minute, he asked, “What?”

  “Award season is coming up.”

  Now she was talking Greek. “And?”

  “And”—her gaze performed another drag—“I can’t have you following behind me looking like . . . that.”

  Eli glanced down at his shit. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” He couldn’t help but be defensive.

  Blake’s groomed brows inched up to the middle of her forehead. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He took another look. Black jeans, black T-shirt, and unscuffed black and gold Jordans. “You trippin’.” He waved her off. “My shit is tight.”

  “Yeah, if you’re thinking about rollin’ into the Source Awards. But since we’re going to be attending real red-carpet events, you’re going to have to come more correct than Hood Vogue.”

  Eli shook his head. “If you think that I’m going to let you dress me up in some monkey suit, you can miss me with that shit.”

  Blake leveled him with that familiar sexy look that got his dick hard. “Look. I didn’t hire you for this job, and up until now I haven’t said shit about you rollin’ behind me lookin’ like you’re on some prison-work program. But this shit is important to me. It’s my job and I’m not about to let you or anybody else fuck this shit up.”

  “I hear you talking, but . . .” He shook his head.

  “I’m not asking,” she said, her face purpling. “I’ll call Mafia Don if I have to.”

  It was the first time she’d made that threat. Eli did a double take to see if her ass was serious.

  She was.

  It was not in him to give into a woman’s demands. Shit. If you let a woman put a chain on you, she’d tugged that muthafucka every chance she got. “The don is your father . . . not mine.”

  Blake reached into her purse and whipped out her cell phone.

  “I don’t care if you call him.” He shrugged, determined to call her bluff. She hadn’t called her father the entire time he’d been out here, so he doubted she’d do that shit now.

  “Give me the number,” she demanded.

  Still not believing her, Eli gave her the number by heart.

  Blake made a dramatic show of dialing. “I’m calling,” she warned.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s ringing.”

  This time, he eased back against the seat and folded his arms. She’s bullshittin’. Gotta be.

  “Um, yes. Is this . . . Blake Archer?”

  The cockiness eased off his face at the use of Mafia Don’s government name.

  “Yes . . . yes. It’s me.” She cut a look at him before launching into the reason behind her call. On the one hand, he was impressed; on the other, the chick was making it sound like he was one of her diva-trippin’ clients whose ass wasn’t being pampered the right way before doing his job.

  “He wants to talk to you,” Blake said, smiling and handing over the phone.

  Grumbling, Eli reached for the phone but not before grumbling, “Tattletale.”

  Blake stuck her tongue out at him while her father barked in his ear on whether there was some kind of problem. An hour later, his ass was standing in a fitting room in Giorgio Armani’s on Rodeo.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this shit,” he mumbled.

  “Are you going to stand in there all day, or are you going to come out here so I can take a look at you?” Blake barked from the other side of the door.

  It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. Next thing he knew, Blake banged on the door like B-more police. “What? Damn. I know how to dress myself.”

  “Says you,” she snapped back. “Now c’mon and let me take a look.”

  Elijah knew that the only way to shut her up was to walk his ass out there, but it was hard as a muthafucka not to straight buck on her ass. Before he could do anything, Blake banged on the door again.

  “C’mon. I ain’t got all day!” Bang! Bang!

  About to lose his fuckin’ mind, he whipped around and damn near snatched the door off its hinges. “Damn, baby girl. Slow your roll!” He waited for her to blast off with some smart-ass remark but then finally noticed that she was looking like she was stuck on stupid, staring him down. “What?” He glanced down at his slate-gray suit to see if he left his fly open or some shit.

  “N-nothing,” she sputtered. “You look . . . good.”

  Eli’s brows leaped up his forehead. He knew his ass couldn’t have heard her giving him a compliment.

  “Good is an understatement,” the saleswoman said from across the room before picking up a complimentary flute of champagne and downing that shit herself. “Are you two . . . together?” she asked with hope shining in her eyes.

  Given that her ass looked at Eli as if she thought he was going to rob the place when they first rolled up in here, her sudden shift in interest was funny as hell.

  Blake turned on the girl. “I like your nerve. Why don’t you pull that blue suit I asked you for ten minutes ago?”

  The woman jumped as if Blake had fired her .38 at her head. “I’ll get that for you right away,” she said, and then shuffled off.

  He returned his attention to Blake. “You’re being a little hard on her, don’t you think?”

  “Why? By asking her to do her damn job?”

  Eli smirked because her eyes hadn’t stopped raping his ass since he snatched open the door.

  “What?” Blake challenged him.

  “Nothing.” He laughed.

  Blake caught an attitude. “It ain’t nothing. You got something to say, so spit it out.”

  He trapped her gaze, propped a hand up against the door frame, and leaned into her personal space. “Maybe I should be asking you that question.”

  Her attitude vanished. Seeing him close in on her, he knew her ass was about to bolt two seconds before she tried. He trapped her between the door frame and his chest by propping his other hand up on the other side of her head.

  “What are you doin’?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Nothing. I’m just talking to you.” Her favorite Cartier scent tickled his nose. If he closed his eyes, he’d swear that he was lying in a field of lilies. He knew because every night, he fell asleep with that same fragrance drifting throughout the house. “What’s the matter? I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

  Tickled as shit, he watched her tremble while she shook her head.

  “You’re lying again.”

  “Am not.” Blake doubled down, puffing up her chest and brushing those luscious titties against his chest. Fuck. Now his stomach knotted up. And damn. Did they turn the heat up in that muthafucka?

  “I got that . . . suit.” The saleswoman rushed back to the dressing area. “I’ll just hang it up . . . right over here,” she said, and then backpedaled.

  While the saleswoman was doing all of that, Blake and Eli didn’t take their eyes off each other.

  “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

  “What?” Blake blinked.

  “You heard me.” He inched even closer but resisted the urge to place his hands where he really wanted to put them. “I want to kiss you.”

  “Well . . . you . . . can’t.”

  He didn’t like that answer. “Why not?”

  Blake backed farther into the wall. “Because . . . because . . .”

  She was adorable when she tried to lie her way out of shit. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re scared of me.”

  “What?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m never scared.”

  “I hear you talking.” He leaned in until their mouths were inches apart. “But you ain’t saying nothing.” It looked like there was a rock
bobbing in the center of her throat. “Yeah. You’re scared.”

  “Am not,” she protested weakly.

  “Oh yeah?” Eli ran his finger down the center of her white blouse. “Prove it. Kiss me.” There was a long silence while Blake’s green eyes lowered to his thick lips. He ran his tongue over them LL-style and waited.

  Two seconds later, she leaned forward and he went for his.

  Now, he’d had his fair share of ladies, and very little surprised his ass, but the minute his lips landed on baby girl, his head was blown. Shit started spinning, and he swore his damn blood was on fire. A kiss wasn’t enough. He had to have her. Now.

  Blake’s ass must have been feeling the same way because when he picked her up and slammed her up against the wall inside the changing room, she didn’t do anything but moan. He kicked the changing room door closed, but he couldn’t say whether the muthafucka stayed closed. He didn’t give a fuck.

  Skirt around her waist, panties jacked to the side, he didn’t waste time whipping his shit out and plunging into her wet pussy. However, the surprises kept coming when he found her shit tighter than a muthafuckin’ drum. Her ass wasn’t no virgin, but not too many muthafuckas had been up in her shit.

  “Fuuuuuck,” he panted, twisting his head from her sweet mouth and burying it into the crook of her neck.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” she cooed, and then nipped at his ear.

  He tried to answer but could hardly breathe.

  Am I about to fuckin’ come? He slowed this shit down before he ended up being a one-minute side note. Ladies saw that shit and they thought your ass had never had no good pussy before. The more he tried to get in control, the tighter her pussy got. He slammed his eyes closed and counted muthafuckin’ sheep in his head.

  Even that shit didn’t work.

  “Your breathing sounds funny,” she said, chuckling and rotating her hips.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Give me a minute,” he said, barely able to keep the cork from popping off the champagne bottle.

  “A minute?” she asked. “What? You can’t keep up, baby boy?” Her hips sped up.

  His mouth dropped open and there was a tremor in his left foot. Still, he couldn’t let her clown him. “I . . . I got this,” he lied.

  “Oh you do, do you?” Blake worked her shit in a figure eight.

  Eli’s eyes rolled around in the back of his head. He took his hands off her ass and braced his weight against the wall—but her legs were in a kung fu grip around his waist, and she was fuckin’ him like the muthafuckin’ rent was due in the morning.

  “You like this good pussy?” she asked.

  “Oh. God. Yes.”

  “You ain’t never had no shit like this before, have you?”

  Normally, it was in his DNA to trash talk back, but damn. Fucking, breathing, and talking were too much to handle at the moment.

  Blake laughed. “Ah. You ain’t got shit to say now, huh, gangsta? You thought baby girl was scared of the dick?”

  He shook his head while her hips and pussy put his shit in a choke hold.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Hey! What are you guys doing in there?” a high-pitched voice shrieked from the other side of the door. “This is a place of business!”

  “Just . . . just a minute,” Blake panted.

  It was the first time he noticed her breathing was getting a little choppy too. Feeling his own swagger creep back, he gripped her ass again, locked in at a good angle, and pounded that sweet monkey with every fucking thing his ass had.

  “Oooooh shiiiit,” Blake howled, digging her nails into his back.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  “Stop it! Stop it, I say,” the woman yelled.

  Blake and Eli were lost in their own world. Her head dented the wall, her ass slapped against his balls, and the way she looked at him had him fallin’ in love.

  “Aaaaargh!” Elijah’s nut exploded with the force of an AK-47. Meanwhile, Blake’s tight, sticky walls convulsed while she called on God like a church elder possessed with the Holy Ghost.

  “Oh, Eli. Eli.”

  He loved how his name sounded falling off her lips. When she finally nutted up, her mouth dropped into a perfect circle, and her eyes fluttered like she was in the middle of a seizure.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Panting, Blake and Eli looked at each other through new eyes. Honest to goodness, he believed he was staring at his rib.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Smiling, Blake unhooked her legs from around his waist, rolled her skirt back down, and hand-ironed her hair.

  Eli’s honey-glazed dick still hung out of his pants when she jerked the door open to the stunned saleswoman and her manager.

  “We’ll take the suits,” she said calmly, and produced a black credit card from somewhere. “No need to box them up.” With that, she closed the door in their faces.

  12

  Blake was fuckin’ a-dick-ted to Elijah. She didn’t even know how the shit happened. One minute they were working on getting their whole bodyguard situation down and the next they were fuckin’ like rabbits ten times a day. Well, maybe not ten, but it sure in the hell felt like it. It was bad enough they got their freak on in the changing rooms in Giorgio Armani two weeks ago, but since then it had been in the back of restaurants, movie trailers, her office, every room in the house, the swimming pool—you name it, their asses fucked all over it. Whenever Eli gave her that look, her panties melted off. The man’s dick game was so strong that he could probably cure a bitch of scoliosis.

  Every time she came off one of her fuck highs, she went back to asking herself what the hell she was doing. The brother might have been fine as hell and could tear up some pussy, but it didn’t change the fact that he worked for her father. That meant her ass couldn’t trust him. Fucking with one eye open had never been one of her strong suits. With her eyes closed, she felt shit that she didn’t have no business feeling.

  Tonight was the Screen Actors Guild Awards, and she had a trio of award parties at which she had to put in face time. Award season was in and of itself nerve-racking. Blake was worried about Elijah being able to blend in. Sure, he turned into GQ material in a suit, but he still sounded hood. His cocky I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude rolled off of him like water off a duck’s back.

  Everything is going to be just fine. No matter how many times she told herself that in the mirror, it did nothing for the ball of anxiety rolling around in her belly.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  Blake whipped around from her mirror and saw Elijah’s fine ass darkening her doorway. It took everything she had to keep her mouth from hitting the floor. Dark, chiseled features, mountainous shoulders, broad chest, and trim waist—shit, her ass was dizzy and she hadn’t even reached the big rodeo dick he knew how to sling around.

  “You know better than to look at me like that, baby girl,” he warned, waving a finger. “You going to start something that gonna make you late for these parties.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied before whipping back around to take a final look at her reflection in the bathroom’s vanity mirror. While Blake pretended to rethink the teardrop diamond earrings, Elijah performed his sexy pimp stroll up behind her until she could feel his iron-hard dick pressed up against her ass. Her smile was instant while her clit thumped against her silk thong.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t change a thing.” He rolled his large hands over her hips and pulled her back so that now his cock was sandwiched between her cheeks.

  She closed her eyes and tried to get a hold of herself, but all she felt was her stomach fluttering, her titties tingling, and her knees knocking.

  “You look stunning,” he said, lowering his pillow-soft lips to the side of her Cartier-scented neck.

  Her knees finally dipped, and she practically sat on his dick. From that second on, her mind scrambled over excuses to back out of tonight’s events.

  “What do you say to my peeling you out of
this dress and we have our own party up in here? Hmm?”

  That shit was so fuckin’ tempting. Right then, she didn’t give a damn who sent his ass there or how much trouble it would eventually bring; she wanted him. Seriously, this was how he made her feel every time he touched her.

  “Say the word, baby girl.” His teeth skimmed her neck, causing her to soak her undies.

  Her eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, and she caught a snapshot of them in the mirror. Her heart almost stopped. They looked so damn good together. Blake couldn’t have dreamed up a better specimen of a man. One moment he looked like the hardest gangsta patrolling the hood, and in the next he threw on an Armani suit and could pass for an Oxford gentleman.

  While she stalled on her answer, she heard the tiny zipper on the back of her red Dior dress slide downward. “Eli,” she whispered.

  “Shhh.” His warm breath rolled across her collarbone. “I’ll be careful not to mess you up”—Eli glanced up and met her gaze in the mirror—“too badly.”

  Her heart and clit pounded in double time.

  “We shouldn’t . . .”

  His lips moved to the back of her neck and started down her spine.

  “Oooh.” Another zipper zoomed down before her thong string was moved to the side. “Eli, baby.”

  “Shhhh,” he whispered again, and then spread her ass cheeks. Before she could process another word, the thick mushroom head of his cock slid through her wet trenches.

  “Aw, damn, baby,” he growled as he sank deeper.

  Before she knew it, Blake had a firm grip on the bathroom’s marble countertop, preparing for the ride of her life.

  Elijah, as usual, didn’t disappoint. As soon as she glazed his cock all the way to the balls, he worked his daddy-long stroke on her. Nothing in her entire life had ever felt that good. If he asked her for the deed to her house or the passwords to all her bank accounts, she couldn’t definitively say her ass wouldn’t give it to him. That shit was crazy. She knew in her heart that didn’t make a damn bit of sense, but that was the way the shit was.

  After a few minutes, her mind spun so fast she knocked over hairspray and perfume bottles. That shit was okay too—just as long as he kept stroking her to where they needed to go.