Page 70 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
His lips quirked in a smirk. “You know you mine, right? You think I’m on you now.”
“You dropped bodies for me. I’ve been yours,” Reign responded, the comment making Markus pull her to the edge of the bed. A yelp and a giggle filled the room. Then she kissed a tattoo-covered scar. And then another. She stood and kissed his shoulder, hoisted herself to her tiptoes to kiss his neck. “What you want, Emilliano?”
“You,” he groaned. “All of you. Them secrets you hold close. That laugh, that smile. That joy. I want all that shit. I want your body wrapped around mine and your trust.”
“Say please.”
“Speechless, can I please have you?”
Reign bit a smile. “Yes. Don’t hurt me.”
“You’ll have to kill me,” he said, picking her up.
Back in the middle of the bed, Markus hooked her thighs and slowly inched inside of her. Reign gasped and pressed her hand against his waist. His movement was swift but assuring. He laced his fingers in hers and pinned her hands over her head. Then he kissed her.
“I got you. Breathe,” he coached.
Reign pulled in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“That’s my girl,” he groaned. Her body sucking him in as he pushed deeper, and deeper and deeper until he filled her to the hilt. “Keep your eyes on me.”
Reign could barely keep her eyes open. They fluttered as she moaned. “You feel…you feel so good. Shhiittt.”
Kissing her, he stroked and grinded in and out of her. “You do too, baby. You feel like you mine.”
Reign held onto his chains, allowing her body to react and follow his motion. Her hands rubbing, her nails digging into his skin, her moans flowing into his ears. Everything she did commanded Markus to discover another part of himself. A gentler side because she deserved that. They kissed, touched, and muttered praises until they were spent.
Markus was sprawled over her body, listening to her breathing, her fingers massaging his scalp. “You good?”
“I’m trying to find the words,” she softly spoke. “No one has ever handled me like that. Like…”
Markus sat up, sure to look into her eyes when he spoke life into her. “Speechless.”
“Hmm,” she buzzed, her eyes big and her ears waiting to take in whatever he was preparing to say.
“Anyone who mishandled you before me doesn’t fuckin’ exist anymore. Literally and figuratively. ‘Cause if I see them niggas on the streets, they’re done. Reign, you’re special, and I’m sorry no one has ever handled you like that. On everything I am, I will make sure you know that shit. And I will protect you with my life. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” she hummed, tucking her lip between her teeth. “One request.”
“Anything you want.”
“Hold me, please.”
Markus pulled her into position. Her head on his chest, arm draped over him, her leg over his. He wasn’t letting her go. He needed this. Her, he needed her.
Angry was an understatement.Mayor Norman was fuming. Every step he took toward the elevators caused his heart to drum harder and harder in his ear, threatening explosion. He was in the middle of cleaning up the streets. He used the overdose death of his colleague’s daughter to sweep up drug dealers left and right. Anything other than that, he wouldn’t be able to face full on without being drenched in shame.
Yes, he had his own habits – young, impressionable women. One he’d paid for and never had the opportunity to inhale her scent. However, that was a fight for another day. His previous fight was in the penthouse, refusing to come to an event that’d been on her schedule for months.
His wife hadn’t stayed in the mansion since his second year in office. They couldn’t see eye-to-eye on basic things. The things they enjoyed while he climbed the ladder of political success seemed to become heavier to enjoy once he took the oath of office.
The women and the drugs they used to indulge in together until she started liking the drugs more than she liked him. And for him – desiring the women more than he desired his wife. What they had now was convenient. Her willful appearance and beautiful smile kept the donors willing to open their wallets, and that cash flow kept her happy and him in his seat.
As the elevator doors chimed open, Mayor Norman stepped in, surrounded by his security detail. The ascent to the top was ominous. Heavy. While he’d always been a man to follow his gut, he’d ignored it for the sake of his ego. A dinner with high-paying donors present and a wife who refused to show up or even answer the phone. Lying was easy when everyone was on the same page, not scrambling to make her absence make sense. He settled for telling everyone she was under the weather.
She was under another nigga or on top of him with a coke-brimmed nose. A drug-dealing, slick-talking nigga who hadn’t yielded to the promises of the mayor. Everyone around him, but a few hustlers he didn’t see fit to touch, was getting swept up. But Luciano thought he was untouchable. Tonight was going to change that. He was fed up.
Mayor Norman stood at the door awaiting one of the members of his detail to open it with the keycard they were given by the front desk. A tap of the card and his hard bottoms crossedover the threshold. He’d thought about how this was going to play out over and over. How the untimely overdose death of his wife would grant him another term ruling over Majestic Heights. Those sympathy votes would flood in. He could have Luciano paraded and plastered as a monster while his sins stayed closeted.
