Bad Nanny (The Bad Nanny Trilogy #1)(65)
I don't expect her to come so quick, to push back into me and collapse, my hands on her body the only things that keep her from hitting the ground knees first. I follow Brooke to the pavement and encourage her to stay on all fours, knees to the pavement, hands splayed open wide as her head hangs down. And then I f*ck her harder, as fast and frenzied as I can. I let go completely and I don't worry about a goddamn thing except for this.
When I come, I feel her react to the sounds I'm making, the way I'm squeezing her body and pumping those last few, furious thrusts. She bucks her hips back into mine, easing her body down my shaft as I finish hard and quick.
“Fuck,” Brooke mumbles as she pulls away from me and curls against the door with her knees up, one hand resting on her calf as she gives me an almost-glare and I grin, tearing the condom off and rising to my feet. I toss it into the trash can just outside the alcove and then cross my arms over my chest.
“Don't tell me you didn't like that,” I say as I move back into the shadows and reach my hand down for Brooke. She's shaking when she lifts her palm up and places it gently, tentatively inside of mine. The brush of our fingers sends a warm thrill through me as I tug Brooke to her feet and into the circle of my arms.
“I'm shaking,” she admits, but I just smile.
“I know.”
“Can we go pierce my eyebrow now?”
I tilt my head back with a laugh and then drop my chin, pressing a kiss to Brooke's forehead.
That gentle, easy touch … it makes us both shiver.
I seriously cannot believe I just did it in the middle of Old Town. Like, anybody could've seen us. And I so totally didn't give a shit.
I wrap my arms around myself and pretend like I'm not wet and uncomfortable downstairs. Too embarrassing to talk about that with Zayden. While he's driving, I send off some secret texts to my girlfriends back in Berkeley, telling them to call me or better yet—come visit my ass like yesterday.
“You didn't tell me your brother lived over here,” I say as we pull into a slightly shadier area of town, down a street populated entirely with copies of the same duplex in different colors.
“Yeah, well, my poor bro works his butt off as an insurance salesman and he and his wife really wanted to own their own place …” Zay trails off a little as we pause in front of a green and white duplex with a really beautiful right side decorated in flowers and outdoor statuary … and the other side, well, not so beautiful. “They bought this place with the life insurance money our parents left us.” Zay eyes the ugly side of the duplex with his pierced brow cocked up in disgust. “And then they rented out one half to this doucher over here.” He points his thumb in that direction as we pull into the driveway behind a beat up old Geo Metro. “They've tried to evict the f*cker, but he always threatens to sue 'em or squat or whatever the f*ck.”
Zay parks the car and we climb out, slamming the doors closed behind us.
Not ten seconds later, some guy with a beard and a shotgun comes out the front door of the ugly duplex and points the muzzle at Zayden.
“You f*cked with my crop, you piece of shit,” he says as I put my palms up and take a small step back. Zayden just tucks his hands into his back pockets and stares the guy down.
“What are you gonna do about it, you baby hating motherf*cker? The law says you can have six plants. Not, like, thirty. And not to sell. Go eat a dick and stop banging on the wall. The next time you do it, it won't be your weed that I snip off.” Zay makes a cutting motion with his fingers as the man cocks his shotgun and takes a step forward, his hands shaking with rage.
Uh-oh.
What the hell did you do, Zayden?
“Shoot me. In the front yard. With several witnesses. How do you think that shit'll go down?”
I don't exactly think antagonizing a guy with a gun pointed at your chest is the best idea in the world, but … it's kind of hot to see Zayden standing up for himself. I dig my phone out of my back pocket and start up a live video feed, just in case.
“This guy's threatening to shoot us. I hope it's just a joke,” I say as I point the camera at the bearded guy in the Go Fuck Yourself t-shirt. “I'm trying to decide if I should call the cops or not. What do you think, Zay?”
“Naw. I think this *'s going to go back inside and start looking for alternative housing. I don't think you've got much room to threaten my brother anymore. If you don't want us to show this video to the police, then you won't wait for him to evict you. Get the f*ck out of my face.” Zay shoves the shotgun to the side and turns around without waiting for a response.
I keep the phone up as I take a few steps back and then follow Zay around the corner and down the short walkway to the front door. Shotgun Man never takes his focus off of Zayden, but before we can even get the front door unlocked, I feel the house shake with a slammed door from the opposite side.
“What did you do?” I whisper and Zayden shrugs, avoiding a really small, very badly burned paper bag on the porch. Really? People still burn shit bags as a prank? I guess Shotgun Man really was pissed.
“Every time Sadie cried, the * slammed his fist against the wall. I got sick of it, so I took my sister-in-law's clippers and cut down his crop. Every last plant. I have no clue what exactly that means for him because I don't smoke the shit, but”—Zayden shrugs as he unlocks the door and smiles at me—“it sure seemed to piss him off.”