Cadillac Payback: Rising Tide by AJ Elmore (grave mercy .TXT) 📗

gorgeous woman. Still, a grunt wrestles free of my throat as I begin a slow rhythm.

“Oh. My. God. What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice rips my contrived moment of joy to shreds. Rage bubbles up to replace desire.

“Oh my god, what the fuck do you want?” I groan. I really, wholly fucking hate this bitch. “Can't you leave me alone for an hour!”

I hear her breathe from her nose, a drawn-out huff of aggravation. A piece of my brain wants to answer with an equally as annoyed sound. An entirely different part of my brain has a better idea. I'll just keep doing what I was doing. My boner has deflated since Mona crashed the party, but that's no longer the point.

There's an extended moment that she doesn't speak, and I'm making a show of stroking myself. I expect her rebuke at any second, but she waits long enough that I start to believe she might be enjoying herself. That would definitely change things.

Then she makes a psh sound, and in my mind's eye, she crosses her arms. I don't know what she's actually doing, because I won't turn to address her. I can hear the rain pattering on an umbrella, so I know she hasn't left.

She says, “You know, I'm sure in this town there are plenty of whores you could hire to help you with that.”

Again I want to growl. She's destroying a perfectly good moment. Her voice has the same effect on me as Styrofoam rubbing together.

“Yeah, I don't remember ordering room service,” I say. Because I'm drunk, I chuckle.

Silence looms for another stretch. I expected a quick and scathing retort, but she's not playing quite the same as usual. So I let go of my dick, and stretch my hands behind my head. Time for my own change of strategy.

Before she can respond to me, I say, “You ruined it anyway.”

It doesn't sound as smooth out loud as when I said it in my head. I still haven't turned to properly address her, though, so I lean on that tiny win.

I hoist the Patrón to my side as I climb out of the water, and stalk back toward my suite without looking at her. I walk through the place dripping, cock at half-mast. I don't have to look to know she's on my heels.

“What are you doing?” she asks again, tone like a hot razor.

“Jesus, why won't you go away?” I snap. I'm not wasted, but I'm drunk enough to say just about anything. I have a feeling she's about to push me a little too far.

When I open my door, she follows me right in without asking. I set the bottle down on the bedside table with a thunk. Then I collapse backward onto the bed, still wet. I notice that her eyes are running down the length of me, and she wets her lips with a dainty tongue. Somehow I don't think I was supposed to see that.

Suddenly my dick is stirring again, and it stands there all proud and stupid. That pisses me off just as much as everything else about this moment. By now, the sun has set, and I'm on the way toward a messy drunk. Any fuck I had left to give hangs from a thread now.

The air conditioning bites my wet skin, and chill bumps go racing along my surface. She's wearing that shitty expression that matches her shitty tone, but her eyes linger on my strengthening erection. A wolfish smile spreads itself out on my lips.

“Isaiah.”

“What?” I say as sharply as I can manage through my twisted amusement.

“Why are you lounging around the pool in the rain when you're supposed to be securing this deal?” she says. I realize she left her umbrella dripping on my floor by the door when she plants her fists on her hips.

A fire erupts in my gut. It's not the tequila, but it's bred from that. It's rage, good old-fashioned, murderous hate, allowed to run rampant in the places where my inhibitions usually stand guard. I prop myself up on my elbows to glare at her.

I hone the edge on my words when I say, “Sorry, boss, I guess Jorge didn't get the memo that he needs to rearrange his whole schedule on the princess's whim. Most of the entire cartel takes Sunday off, so you're lucky I did anything at all today. If you had any idea what you were doing, you'd never ask me what's taking so long. You'd shut the fuck up and let me do my fucking job, because you would know this shit takes time.”

Her eyes go wide. I can see the anger twisting her calm mask. I don't know why she's still surprised that I'll speak to her this way. Maybe it's because I'm the only one who ever has in her entire white-bred life.

Though I despise her, it's always been a turn on when she's such a remorseless bitch. She used to command me to go down on her, which I'd do until she was a writhing, screaming wreck. Then she'd ride me until I was the wreck. She liked the control most of all. I bet she has her new boy toy in a collar and leash, sucking her toes just because she tells him to.

I look down the plane of my chest, to my again-erect cock. This shit has to stop.

Then she says, “I don't think you fully understand your delicate position. All I have to do is say the word and you're a dead man, so you might want to watch your mouth. Don't think I don't remember how you drag your feet when you don't want to do something. We have a lot riding on this deal, so how about you get the damn ball rolling like a good boy.”

I'm on my feet and in her face before I realize what I'm doing. I'm looking down at her surprised expression, and the fury roils throughout my body.

“Look me in the