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Her eyelids hooded too as she gagged, and her body convulsed at the same time. I slid my cock from her throat, letting it rest on the tip of her tongue.
“Drink my come, sweetheart.”
Her mouth opened wider as I stroked my cock. Cum spewed from the tip all over her tongue.
“Fuck!” I roared, jerking as I unleashed every drop in her mouth.
“All fucking mine. My pussy. My captive. My woman.”
She swallowed as I released her hair. Kennedy fell back against the island.
Her gaze darkened. “I’m not yours, Franco.”
Kennedy scrambled to her feet and scurried out of the room as I tucked my dick back into my slacks.
I understood why she was hesitant. She was falling for a man who was bad, like her father and ex-boyfriend Duke.
The difference between me and them, I’d never hurt her. I’d cherish her. Treat her like the queen she was. If she didn’t want to torture and kill with me, I could handle that. Would Kennedy eventually accept this lifestyle? And my demons that came along with it?
CHAPTER SEVEN
KENNEDY
I refused Franco’s dinner invitations for three days. Did he think sharing a meal together would change the fact that he wanted to make me his? And lock me in his mansion forever.
Knees pulled into my chest; I rested my head against the headboard. Why did I enjoy doing wicked things with him?
Torturing Derwin awakened a part of the evil that lie dormant inside. Working for my father unleashed a hunger for murder I didn’t know existed. My father’s best bodyguard, Bumbie, turned me into a killer.
Bumbie said, “Men won’t respect you, but you can make them fear you.” A wicked smile sparked his lips. “Kennedy, you’ll have to be twice as fast and never show weakness.”
I smiled at the memory.
My smile faded. Bumbie said those words to a sixteen-year-old girl whose half-sisters bullied her all her life. Dad and Uncle Anson sent me to torture those who wronged our family. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly.
The mental anguish that I suffered at the hands of my half-sisters, I released that fury on my enemies. I murdered in a very gruesome manner. The messages I sent to those who thought it was ok to cross the San Antonio Kingpins were creative. One time I had my team, Damon, Orson, Reggie, and Kitura, leave the bodies of four men who crossed us on Snake’s manicured lawn, in Bramwell, West Virginia, an old mining town. He was another of our enemies. Most would’ve fallen in line. Not that guy. He came at us hard. Reggie was killed in the shoot-out. A tear slid down my cheek at the memory. In the end, I slammed a knife through Snake’s neck and roasted his body over a campfire in the old mining town. He was a guy who lived by his own rules. That mentality didn’t go over well with my father and uncle. Snake also thought I was a dumb black woman. A smile curled my lips at the memory. I showed him.
