BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(33)

Reno nodded. “Tears ran down her cheeks. Every time. She loved it, though.”

Cash looked at me. “Does your girl cry?”

I lowered my chin and glared. “Change the subject.”

“Our superstitious Prez slipped off the edge of the celibacy cliff?” Ghost chuckled. “Tell us about voodoo pussy.”

Pussy made a man weak. That was my claim, at least. When a man gets wrapped up in fucking a woman, emotions get in the way. Eventually, the small head begins to make the decisions. Undoubtedly, the day comes when the man looks around him and realizes his life – and everything in it – has changed. My fear of change caused the men to view me as superstitious.

I gave Cash a dose of stink eye, and then looked at Ghost. “I’m not fucking her. I fucked her. Past tense. She had a tight pussy. Deep and tight. That’s pretty much it.”

“Tell ‘em what you called it,” Cash spouted. “Called it voodoo pussy, didn’t ya?”

Ghost cracked his knuckles and then grinned a sly grin. “Well? Did ya?”

I massaged my temples with the tips of my fingers. I’d always thought with my big head, not my little one. In fact, my dick never made decisions for me. Somehow, with Andy, my cock became the decision maker. Now, with ten eyes staring back at me in wait of an answer, I began to fill with regret.

“I did.”

“Let’s hear it,” he said. “Why voodoo pussy?”

Andy’s pussy was unexplainable. It felt unlike anything I’d ever had the pleasure of sticking my dick in. After experiencing the feeling it provided, being satisfied by anything lesser was improbable. I hadn’t fucked her for damned near a week. I had my doubts, however, that I’d last much longer.

“Girl’s got a magic pussy,” I said without an ounce of emotion. “What? You’ve never fucked a chick that’s got a nice twat?”

“Is that it? She’s got a nice puss?”

“That’s the beginning and the end of it, yeah.”

He clasped his palms together and locked eyes with me. “Well, if that’s all it is, I guess we don’t have anything to worry about tomorrow, do we?”

I alternated glances between the men. “If anything happens tomorrow, her pussy won’t have anything to do with it. That much I can guarantee.”

As the words rolled from the tip of my tongue, I almost believed them.





NINETEEN - Andy





I had no more than finished the Gala Christmas flier, and the door opened. With an old-school briefcase clenched in his right hand, Mister Greene stepped through the door. Dressed in a dark gray pinstriped business suit and blue tie, he looked cute. After a quick smile, he looked the office over, and then sat down.

He glanced over his shoulder and fixed his eyes on the long brick wall. “Looks pretty bare in here, Andy.”

I realized that during his arrival, I’d managed to stand. I sat down and let out a sigh at the same time. “I’m cash strapped right now. But, as soon as I get a few bills paid, I plan on doing some decorating.”

He shifted his eyes from the wall to me. “It’s not your responsibility to make this office presentable. It’s mine.” He lifted his briefcase to his lap, opened it, and then handed me an envelope. “Get whatever you think you need.”

I looked at the envelope. Chase Bank was printed on the corner, and I wondered if it was a collections notice.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s your company credit card. It came in yesterday. Use it for anything you need where we don’t have accounts established. And for decorating this office.” He cocked one of his out of control eyebrows. “Within reason.”

Excited, I stood and walked to the bare wall. “I was thinking about some black and white prints on the wall. Architecture stuff.” I gestured toward the floor and spread my arms wide. “And then I thought a long table might look nice in the center of this wall. Something clunky that kind of matches the theme we’ve already got going on. I’d put some decorative stuff on it, but not too girly. Maybe announcements and fliers, and stuff. Just things that make it a little more homey and less like an office.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out. If they don’t have a delivery service, ask Mort to pick your things up.”

“I will. Thank you.”

He closed his briefcase and set it on the floor beside him. “Mort tells me you’ve decided to take occupancy of 3A.”

I slid the envelope aside and wondered if the card had my name on it or the company’s name. Maybe both, I decided. “I did,” I said. “And, I have.”

“I prefer that the manager stay on the premises. It encourages the tenants to be responsible. No problems, I take it?”

“None whatsoever.”

He waved his hand toward the door. “I see the door’s been repaired.”

The hand-written bill for the door simply stated repair steel door and gave an amount. I decided a little white lie was in Mort’s best interest. “Nothing more than repositioning a few things.”

“I’m pleased that’s resolved. It was annoying.”

“I thought so, too.”

“There is one other thing.” He clasped his hands together. “One would think it’s common knowledge, but considering the problems we had with the last property manager, I feel compelled to say something.”