WHY I'VE BEEN ABSENT… Well… As I'm sure you've all figured out, I've been on a long ass hiatus. And let me tell you something: I hated not being able to write over the past semester just as much as you hated having to wait for me to come out with a new chapter. I'd thought that I would be able to tackle the semester and continue to write, like I've done in previous semester. But the truth of the matter was, between 16 hours at the office every week for the internship, 15 credit hours' worth of classes, and all the homework that came with it… I was doing good to even get one hour of free time each night and that was either spent just trying to relax or falling the fuck asleep early. And, now that I'm officially done with college – thank fuck for that! – the job search will begin starting January 5. *groans*
UPCOMING SHIT… I haven't quite decided if I'd like to pursue a new Mac story and I haven't really come up with any ideas that I actually like for anything Mac-related in terms of a new story. I do like the idea of continuing on with Fatal Attraction here though.
ANYONE INTERESTED IN MY TAKE ON MICHAEL MYERS…? I do have 2 chapters of a Halloween story – based on Rob Zombie's remake, not the originals by John Carpenter – but I won't be posting it unless people are actually interested in reading it. I tried my hand at writing Ryan Kuhn from 13 Ghosts but no one bothered to read it. So I won't waste my time posting it unless I know people would actually like to read it.
FACEBOOK PAGE… If you would like to contact me outside of Fanfiction here, I do, in fact, have a Facebook page that I set up just for my Fanfiction friends to find me at. You'll find me under the name "Rose Rebellion" – you can't miss it because there's a picture of Mac in the cave for the profile picture and my cover photo is the banner I made for Fatal Attraction. You'll find banners I made for each of the characters for the story as well as one I made for the story itself.
TRANSLATIONS… There are translations for all the Albanian in this story. I do apologize that it's clear at the fucking bottom – I know how much of a pain in the ass it can be so scroll all the fucking time because I've done it myself. But they are down there at the bottom – as is the list of songs I used lyrics from in this chapter.
HINTS… I can promise a naked Mac in this chapter. I can also promise some more information about Wick, Chaz, and Dahlia. That's all you're getting as far as the hints go.
Chapter 2: Going to Hell
(The end is the end)
(Don't bless me, Father, for I have sinned)
Father, did you miss me?
I've been locked up a while.
I got caught for what I did but took it all in style.
Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when.
Now I'm versed in so much worse,
So I am back again.
And he said
For the lines that I take, I'm going to hell!
For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!
Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.
Father, did you miss me?
Don't ask me where I've been.
You know I know.
Yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.
I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.
Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!
And he said
For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!
For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!
For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt.
I am sittin' on a throne while they're buried in the dirt.
For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!
Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.
Please forgive me, Father.
I didn't mean to bother you.
The devil's in me, Father.
He's inside of everything I do.
For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!
For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!
For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!
For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!
For the way I condescend and never lend a hand.
My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand.
For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!
Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.
~*Dahlia*~
Dahlia Chevenandrova bit her bottom lip as she watched Wick give Walter their orders for lunch. Chaz was watching from his perch on the chair beside her, every muscle in his body tense as his hazel eyes glared at the creepy ass Mexican man that was standing behind the bar. Hell he was sitting straighter than a damn two by four in his chair.
Dahlia leaned over, bringing her mouth to his ear even as one of her hands gently rubbed at his upper thigh, just below the crotch of his jeans.
She nibbled lightly at his ear, feeling him relax just a little as she purred, "Lighten up, Chazzie. If he gives us any problems, I know you boys can handle it."
"With fuckin' pleasure," was Chaz's retort.
She nuzzled at his cheek and reached out to gently cup his chin in her hand.
"Hey…" she crooned softly, catching his attention.
He looked over at her and she offered him a bright smile. She saw the corner of his lips twitch and knew that he was fighting back a smile of his own.
"I love you," she prompted, just before bringing her lips to his for a brief peck.
"You know I love you," came his answer, making her previous smile return to grace her lips.
She nodded to confirm his statement.
A few minutes later, Wick came over to the table, setting a bottle of Jack down on the table with a couple shot glasses and a full glass of Jack and Coke for Dahlia.
Wick pointed to his cheek and Dahlia giggled, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He gave a sly little crooked grin and she smiled at him.
"Gimme a real kiss," she told him, leaning closer again.
"A real kiss?" Wick questioned, "Baby, I don't think the public eye can handle that shit."
She laughed and puckered her lips and he got the point. The kiss was brief, just like the one she'd shared with Chaz, and she shared another smile with Wick before her black brows wrinkled in confusion. Her phone was going off.
She reached down into her pocket to tug her cell phone out, the cause of the vibrating sensation in her pocket. It was probably one of the gang members, making sure that she and the boys had gotten out of the city all right and that they were safely holed up somewhere the authorities wouldn't think to look for them.
But, when she looked down at the name that flashed across the screen, her eyes widened. Both Chaz and Wick looked at her with their dark brows wrinkled in worry and confusion.
"Who is it?" they questioned in unison.
Dahlia held her finger up to signal to them that she was going to take the call and then she pressed the send button to answer the call.
"Babai?" she greeted.
It wasn't often that her father called. He only came to the United States a few times a year to visit his children – the ones that didn't live in Albania at least. Her two oldest brothers, Luka and Mikael, lived in Albania with him and helped him run the Albanian mafia they were a part of back there in their homeland. Dmitri and Vigo were running a gang up in Boston, Massachusetts. Nikolai was living in Los Angeles and was heavily involved in street racing and running the illegal chop shop that Dahlia's gang used to make part of their profits. And Julius had just gotten out of the pin himself, thanks to a really good lawyer.
Luka and Mikael had the same mother, a calm, mild-mannered, brunette by the name of Mariska. Julius's mother was a bubbly little blonde by the name of Tereza. Dmitri and Vigo were born to a woman named Constance, a feisty, "redheaded rattlesnake" as their father called her. Nikolai and Dahlia's mother was the sweetest woman of the bunch, a pretty raven-haired gypsy woman with bright green eyes by the name of Sarafina. Her father had created 7 children with 4 different women. Her father had just insisted that all of the children have his last name, regardless of whether they were born in Albania or not. Over the years, they'd come to call the family the "Chevenandrova clan". They had family reunions at least once a year, large ceremonies that usually lasted a few days and were either held in their homeland or somewhere in the United States. These were usually held on Christmas or Thanksgiving, a holiday that the Chevenandrovas hadn't started celebrating until some of the American members of the family had begun partaking in the holiday. Since it was a feast, the men in the family had been quick to agree that it was a "necessary holiday".
Dahlia couldn't help but wonder what would cause her father to call in the middle of March though.
"Ah, Dahlia. Si është vajza ime foshnja?" the man's raspy voice replied in perfect Albanian.
She frowned and replied, "Duket se ne u përplas me disa telashe përsëri në Los Angeles."
"Çfarë lloj telashe?" he questioned, concern filling his deep voice.
She knew those dark brows would be wrinkled in worry.
Dahlia heaved a sigh and answered, "E keqe e mjaftueshme që Wick, Chaz, dhe unë kam për të ikur nga Los Angeles dhe të gjejnë një vend për të hedhur të ulët derisa gjërat të hedhur mbi mbrapa në L.A."
"Dhe pse nuk ju vijnë në Shqipëri, Dahlia im? Ju e dini se ju jeni gjithmonë të mirëpritur këtu," her father pointed out.
She nodded and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, stating, "Unë e di, baba. Por unë nuk duan të rrezikojnë autoritetet duke u përpjekur për të marrë dikush tjetër poshtë me ne, në qoftë se ata do të arrijnë të na gjeni. Unë nuk dua të sjellë probleme apo turp për familjen time."
"Dashuria e një baba-së nuk njeh turp," he scolded gently.
She nodded, despite the pout curling at her lips and agreed, "Unë e di, baba."
"Por ju jeni të sigurt?" he pressed.
Of course he was worried about her. Hell she was the baby of the family and neither her father nor her brothers would ever let her forget that little fact.
She nodded and informed him, "Po, po. Kam gjetur një shtëpi simpatik pak për ne që të marrësh me qira në një qytet të vogël rurale. Nuk ka asgjë për milje e milje. Dhe kushdo që përbën një kërcënim për të mbuluar tonë do të jenë të shpejt dhe në heshtje asgjësuar. Ne kemi marrë atë nën kontroll, baba."
"Ah, kjo është vajza ime," he praised.
After a short pause, he said, "Unë kam zbuluar se ju keni një motër atje në Shtetet e Bashkuara, moj e shtrenjta Dahlia."
She had a sister?!
She gasped, quickly earning both of her boys' attention and cried, "Me të vërtetë?"
"Unë do të thotë atë me të vërtetë," came his response.
"Kjo nuk është një tjetër një nga shaka tuaj të dehur, është ajo?" she pressed, frowning as she waited for his answer.
He had a tendency of calling his children late at night when he'd had a bit too much to drink and pulling pranks on them over the phone. He'll he'd concocted all kinds of crazy stories to tell them. And several of those stories were relayed during their family reunions, much to his displeasure – though he'd have to fight back a smile and cough to cover up his laughter when they were retold in front of the family.
"Jo, jo. Nëna më ka kontaktuar disa muaj më parë, ranting dhe cussing një stuhi se si unë kishte një vajzë dhe kurrë nuk e kishte shqetësuar për të dërguar ndonjëherë asaj një qindarkë për të mbështetur atë. Tha të vërtetën, ajo ka qenë gjithmonë një rrodhe. Doja të jetë i sigurt se fëmija ishte me të vërtetë e imja. Në fund të fundit, nëse ajo është vajza ime, kam kërkuar për të parë prova. Unë kam vetëm rezultatet përsëri dje. Ajo e imja. Ju duhet të shikoni foton e saj, Dahlia. Ajo duket aq shumë si ju. Të gjatë, me onde, korbi me ngjyrë të flokëve dhe të lëkurës thellë-tanned. Sytë e saj janë hazel. Nuk ka mohuar se ajo është me prejardhje shqiptare. Nuk ka dyshim se ajo është një Chevenandrova," he assured her.
"Ku është ajo? Ku është motra ime foshnja?" Dahlia prompted, feeling her chest tighten as his words sank in.
"Tani për tani unë jam duke u përpjekur për të gjetur një mënyrë për të gjetur atë poshtë. Në fakt, unë jam duke e bërë një udhëtim të veçantë mbi të Shteteve të vetëm për të ndjekur e saj poshtë. Dhe unë jam duke e çuar djemtë me mua. Nëse ajo ka qenë në kujdesin e nënës së saj gjithë këto vite nuk ka thënë se çfarë lloj tmerret ajo e vuajtur nëpër. Zoti e di nëna e saj ishte një ferr i një kurvë egoiste, të interesuar vetëm në çështjet që fjalë veten," he stated.
"Babi, më tregoni se çfarë unë mund të bëj," she was quick to offer.
"Ju vetëm të qëndrojë aty ku je, Dahlia ime. Unë nuk e di edhe ku ajo është ende. Unë nuk mund të shkojnë humbur vajza e vetme unë e di, tani mund unë? Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar aty ku ju jeni të sigurt. Kur ne të gjeni atë, unë do të lidhen me ju," he insisted.
Dahlia frowned at that. She didn't like that idea at all. If her little sister was out there somewhere, she wanted to find her. She wanted to meet her and see if she had that natural fire burning inside of her that the rest of the Chevenandrova clan did. While most people said someone with spunk had "piss and vinegar" running through their veins, the Chevenandrovas insisted that it was "vodka and adrenaline" that coursed through theirs.
"Por, baba –," she started.
"Mos 'Por, baba 'mua. Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar vënë. Kur ne gjejmë atë, ne do të sjellë atë për të parë ju. Ju mendoni se vëllezërit e tu nuk janë të etur për të përmbushur e saj, si dhe?" he questioned.
She couldn't help but laugh at that. She was just certain that her brothers would all swarm around the newest member of the family. They always surrounded her like a pack of hungry vultures when they met for their family reunions. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl. Her first encounter with all of them was bound to be overwhelming. Still, she wanted to be the first to meet her sister. Surely the girl would rather meet a milder Chevenandrova first, the only sister she would have – at least on the Chevenandrova side.
She frowned and heaved a sigh but finally asked, "Ju të paktën do të më thoni emrin e saj?"
"Emri i saj është Ziva," he replied.
"Ziva…" she repeated, trying it out on her tongue to see if it was a name fit for a Chevenandrova.
A smile curled at her lips. She liked it. Ziva Chevenandrova.
"Sa e vjetër është ajo?" Dahlia inquired.
"Ajo duhet të jetë kthyer 21 Maj. Ajo është vetëm nja dy vjet më të rinj se ju, Dahlia im," her father answered.
This would bring the Chevenandrova sibling count up to 8. Dahlia had previously been the baby of the family but, now, she would be replaced by Ziva as the youngest child. And she would finally have a sister. Growing up with 6 brothers had been a royal pain in the ass, especially since they were all older brothers. There was no denying that she was her father's favorite, however, and she couldn't help but wonder if that would change when Ziva came into the picture. Where would she fit in with the family? Who would she form the closest bonds with?
Dahlia heard someone speaking in the background before her father pressed his hand to the phone and mumbled something to the other person. A couple minutes later, he returned his attention to the conversation he'd been holding with Dahlia.
"Më duhet të shkoj tani. Unë do t'ju kur kemi gjetur atë. Të dua, Dahlia tim ëmbël," she heard her father say.
"Unë të dua shumë, baba. Ajo ishte e bukur për të dëgjuar nga ju," she said, just before she heard the telltale sound of the dial tone, signaling that he'd ended their call.
She sighed as she set her cell phone down on the table, frowning at it.
"What the hell was that all about?" Wick questioned, his dark brows wrinkled in confusion.
She looked over to find Chaz with a very similar expression on his handsome face and explained, "That was my father. Apparently… I have a baby sister."
"What?!" both of the boys cried in unison.
–=Mac=–
You took me to your little crib
Guess it must have been a big deal
Got me starring in your wet dream
Now it's time to get real
I'm not looking for love
No not today
But you call me up and had the nerve to say
See you next Tuesday
You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing
You call me a freak like that means something
Can't get your way so you're sulking
I think we know the rest
But get it off your chest
I don't give a shit
I love it when you call me a bitch like it's a bad thing
You show up everywhere I go
Get a grip you're acting so weird
I don't need your jager bombs
I think I can take it from here
You gotta learn to leave when the party ends
I don't really care what you tell your friends
Tell me again
You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing
You call me a freak like that means something
Can't get your way so you're angry
I think we know the rest
But get it off your chest
I don't give a shit
I love it when you call me a bitch
I think you hate me because you want me
You only want what you can't have
I'm just being who I want to be
But you can't deal with that
You call me a bitch like it's a b-b-bad thing
You call me a freak like it means something
Can't get your way so you're so pissed off
I think we know the rest
But get it off your chest
I don't give a shit
I love it when you call me a bitch like it's a bad thing
Macario Sanchez was more than ready to go home by the time he'd finished cooking that night. It had taken him hours to finish the double batch that he'd started cooking that day. It would put him four batches ahead of the orders that had been coming in recently. The last fucking thing he wanted was for Walter to get on his ass again. He'd been doing a pretty good job of staying ahead of his orders lately and he didn't want to slip up. It would give Walter one less thing to bitch about and that kept him off Mac's back a bit longer.
But that didn't mean that he hadn't had any complications. Ziva was one hell of a spitfire when she was sober. But he was quickly coming to learn that she was even worse when she was high. She'd squirmed in the lawn chair he'd tied her to ever since Devon had left, growling in frustration every so often. When he'd asked her what her fucking problem was, she'd just snarled at him and spat that her ass was falling asleep. He'd grumbled that he'd smack it a good one and wake it the fuck up and, even though he'd thought it would be a convincing enough threat to keep her from squirming anymore, her squirming had only intensified. Hell she'd damn near wriggled her way right out of the fucking chair!
Mac stepped out of the room he was cooking in to go find a place to piss. All he had to do now was cut and bag the product. He could do that shit tomorrow. The shit was cooked. That was what mattered. The hardest part was done. Now he was looking very forward to grabbing his new toy and taking her home. And if she didn't shut the fuck up soon, he was going to find a way to shut her up himself.
When he returned to the room in the cave that he used for his lab, he heard Ziva mumbling, "Stupid fucker keeps me tied to a goddamn fuckin' chair and just expects me ta fuckin' be happy about it? I don't fuckin' think so. Goddamn it, I'm stuck with a fuckin' wet thong and the bastard won't even hook a bitch up."
"Oh I'll hook ya up all right," he snapped, walking around to stand in front of the chair he'd tied her to and leaning over to glare down at her with those piercing, bright blue eyes even as he gripped her arms in his big hands, "Yer gonna fuckin' get it when we get home. And if ya don't behave yer little self on the fuckin' way there, I'll pull over and punish ya 'fore we even get home."
He watched as a shudder raced down her spine. He half expected her to cringe but she didn't. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, those hazel eyes roaming over his body. And damn if his cock didn't twitch in his coveralls upon discovering that she was eyeing him up.
"Yer a dirty fuckin' bitch," he accused.
"Mmm-hmm…" she agreed, nodding her head, "The dirtiest."
At this point, he didn't doubt it.
He reached into one pocket of his coveralls and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, holding them up in front of her face with one finger. A crooked little smirk curled at those full lips of hers and she got this wicked twinkle in her eyes, one that made a shudder race down his spine.
"Better watch it, bitch," he told her, "Ya keep that shit up and yer gonna make me love ya."
She just laughed and replied, "I don't know what the fuck people told ya, but love doesn't exist."
His brows rose a bit. This bitch had more in common with him than he cared to admit.
She waggled her brows at him and commented, "Doesn't stop me from havin' my fuckin' fun though."
His face fell into an annoyed expression and he reached down to untie her right ankle first, stopping halfway through untying the knot to look up at her and remind her, "Ya do somethin' stupid and yer gonna fuckin' wish you'd never even thought of it."
She just smirked at him and waited patiently while he finished untying the knot. He untied her other ankle and she rolled first one ankle and then the other. He heard a telltale pop come from both of them and his brows rose as he glanced back up at her.
"Shitty joints," she explained, "Got it from the bitch that gave birth ta me, though she blames part of it on my father."
He shrugged and reached up to start in on the knot at her right wrist before freezing in place.
She was using her bare foot to rub it over the crotch of his coveralls, the heel of her foot running up and down over the seam and teasing his cock over the cotton fabric. He felt his cock twitch before it started to perk up a bit.
She must've realized it too because she gave him a smug little smirk and purred, "Oh, so you're not made of stone, huh?"
"Keep that shit up and he'll be rock hard," he informed her, "Now quit yer fuckin' horsin' around. Sit the fuck still and keep yer… feet ta yerself."
None of the other bitches he'd held hostage had ever pulled shit like that. Hell he'd never had to tell them to keep their hands or feet or any other part of their body to themselves. They might've tried to lash out at him but they sure as shit hadn't tried to turn him on!
But Ziva didn't listen. Instead, she applied even more pressure, tracing the outline of his dick with her heel and working her foot up and down his length over his coveralls.
He cut her a harsh glare and slapped her foot away from him before moving around to the side of the chair to continue working on the knot that kept her right wrist tied to the lawn chair.
"Maybe I want him hard," Ziva stated, "Maybe I want him ready."
"Well yer just gonna hafta fuckin' wait 'til we get home," Mac retorted.
He couldn't believe that he was the one to tell a woman that she had to fucking wait. Usually he just took what the fuck he wanted when he wanted it. But he couldn't risk Devon coming back out there to the cave and finding his new little toy there or worse. If the stupid little fucker told Walter about her, Walter would take her and fuck her himself, just to punish Mac for disobeying Devon. Mac would just have to keep her at his place. He'd have to make them think that he'd killed her and dumped her body somewhere.
He felt warm breath ghosting over his ear and jerked his head back, glaring at the raven-haired bitch who had managed to lean in closer while he'd been deep in thought.
"Sit the fuck still!" he shouted.
"Oooo!" she said, giving a fake shudder, "I'm so scared, Mac."
"You'd be smart if ya fuckin' were scared, ya stupid little bitch," he snapped.
She cocked one dark brow at him and informed him, "I might be a lot of things, Mac, but stupid isn't one of 'em."
He saw the fire dancing in her eyes and realized that he'd hit a nerve with her. She'd been pushing his buttons all fucking day so he decided to press hers.
"Ya sure 'bout that?" he questioned.
She narrowed those hazel eyes at him and, the next thing he knew, she'd brought her head down to crack him in the nose. He heard the sickening crunch and snarled in anger, backing away from the chair and tipping his head back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight before snapping it back into place. He gave a low groan as his nose reset and pinched the bridge of it even harder, trying to stop the blood flow.
"Better tip your head forward, dumbass," she instructed, "Tippin' it back will only make the blood run down your throat. And the average human can only swallow a pint of blood before they hoark."
"Yer gonna fuckin' pay for that one," he warned, his voice coming out a little more nasally than he'd intended since he was still holding his nose.
She just laughed and imitated him in a nasally voice, "'Yer gonna fuckin' pay for that one.'"
He sighed. This was going to be a long fucking night. But then he got an idea. He could still get even with her.
A wicked little grin curled his lips and he kicked one leg out, tipping the flimsy lawn chair over onto one side.
"Motherfucker!" she shrieked at him as she hit the floor, still tied to the chair, "Ooo! You're gonna fuckin' pay for that one."
He just laughed at that and used the line she'd used on him earlier that afternoon, "'Now we're even.'"
"We are so not fucking even!" she objected.
"Ya broke my fuckin' nose! I oughta break one of yer fuckin' bones, ya crazy bitch!" he shot back.
She just laughed and replied, "You keep callin' me a bitch like it's a bad thing. When are you gonna fuckin' learn, Mac? It doesn't faze me. It's just a damn word."
"I'll fuckin' faze ya," he countered, pushing himself to his feet and going over to grab a grease rag from the table he'd been cooking on.
He wiped his nose and chin where the blood had poured down his face. Then he walked over to her chair, grabbing it by one arm and yanking it back upright. It wobbled a bit and he watched as she sank her painted black nails into the plastic arms of the chair, her hands gripping them tight even as she glared up at him. The paint on her nails chipped and her nails left little crescent-shaped marks in the cheap plastic of the flimsy lawn chair.
"Oops!" he taunted, "Guess I don't know my own strength."
She lashed out at him with her foot, catching him hard in the family jewels and he grunted in pain, doubling over and gasping for air.
"Oops! Guess I've got Turrets," she retorted, "Or is it Restless Leg Syndrome?"
He swallowed hard and stood straight before nodding.
"All right," he said, "If yer not gonna fuckin' behave, I'll knock yer ass out again and take ya home."
She gave him a smug little smirk and told him, "Go ahead. Fuckin' try me."
He reached into the pocket of his coveralls and eased out his Bowie knife. She eyed the blade and cocked one dark brow at him. Her eyes didn't widen with fear. She didn't cower or beg. She just cocked that brow at him and gave him a completely unimpressed expression.
"So help me God, Mac," she warned him, "You fuckin' cut me with that thing and I'll leave you in a puddle of your own fuckin' tears. You think a broken nose is so bad? That's nothin' compared ta what I could do ta you."
"Sure talk a big fuckin' game, dontcha?" he sneered.
"Maybe if you respected women, ya wouldn't hafta fuckin' kidnap 'em, Mac!" she spat.
His spine stiffened and his nostrils flared in anger. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd backhanded her, his knuckles colliding with her cheek to leave an angry, red imprint there on her face.
She just narrowed those hazel eyes and opened that sassy little mouth again to taunt, "What's the matter, Mac? Truth hurt?"
"Bitch! I'll show ya fuckin' 'hurt'!" he snarled, reaching out to grab her by the hair.
But that was a mistake. She went from a taunting bitch to a vengeful banshee in 2.5 seconds, shrieking and thrashing wildly in the chair. She lashed out at him with her feet even as she bucked and flailed. He had to tighten his grip on her hair to even keep a hold of her. He lifted her up off the ground by her hair, thinking that it would calm her down a bit. But she only struggled worse.
"Let go!" she shrieked, "Don't you fucking touch my hair!"
One of her feet connected with his shin and he grunted. Her other one met his groin again and he wheezed.
"Stop it! Stop it!" she shouted, "Let go of me!"
"Stop yer fuckin' thrashin'!" he snarled, trying to put some space between her flailing feet and his body.
"LET GO!" she cried at the top of her lungs, startling him a bit.
He jerked his head back as if she'd just slapped him and he just stared at her for a couple minutes.
Ziva was sniffling quietly, her makeup running down her face as big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her jaw was clenched tight and she was giving him the dirtiest fucking glare he'd ever seen.
"Let… Go…" she demanded in a voice that was so calm and quiet it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Mac carefully eased her chair back down onto the floor of the cave. He slowly untangled his fingers from her hair and eased his hand away from the long, wavy, jet-black locks. His eyes never left the little hellcat.
"You can slap my face. You can bite me. You can spank me. You can kick me or knock me out or drag me around. But you don't fuckin' pull my hair. Not ever," she informed him, those hazel eyes narrowed into tiny little slits as she glared at him, "You ever pull my hair again and I'll tie you to a fuckin' bed, beat you with a fuckin' baseball bat, and leave ya for dead. Are we clear?"
Well… Apparently she didn't like to have her hair pulled. He'd smacked her, he'd decked her a good one, and he'd backhanded her. He'd knocked her chair over. He'd grabbed her by the chin. He'd spat insults at her all fucking day. And nothing had fazed her. But, by damn, he'd brought tears to those eyes when he'd grabbed her by the hair and he'd really brought out her inner hellcat.
"Ya don't want me ta pull yer fuckin' hair? Then ya fuckin' do what I say, ya crazy ass bitch," he snapped, pointing at her, "Now ya sit the fuck still while I untie ya. Ya lash out as me again and I'm gonna yank that fuckin' hair right outta yer goddamn head."
He saw her dig her nails into the arms of the chair again and his brows rose as the black paint on her nails chipped even further and a few pieces fell to the floor. Her nails left another set of marks in the plastic covering the arms of the chair and he knew that there were going to be little half-moon shaped claw marks all over the arms of that damn chair by the time she got through with it.
"You're one stupid son of a bitch," she spat, "I've already nailed ya in the nuts twice. You really wanna go for a third time? Maybe if you're lucky, ya won't be able ta reproduce by the time I'm done with ya. God knows the world doesn't need any fuckin' mini-Macs runnin' around."
He sneered at her but he knew it was the truth. Just like he knew that he could never handle having any fucking kids. He'd either kill them or he'd kill the bitch they belonged to. He didn't have the fucking patience for that shit.
"God ain't here," he pointed out, "And even if he was, he wouldn't show ya any fuckin' mercy."
Mac wasn't exactly a fan of God. If the big man did exist, he'd never dealt Mac any mercy over the years. Nor had he spared any sympathy for Mac.
Mac bent over to retrieve his knife, which had fallen to the floor when she'd started thrashing like a fucking wild coon that was caught in a trap. He cut her right wrist free, surprised when she sat completely still for him, and then reached out to cut the rope holding her left one tied to the chair, his crystal blue orbs trained on her the whole time.
She cocked one brow at him and then held both hands up to show him that she wasn't going to lash out at him. Slowly, she reached out towards him and he watched her hand the whole time, watching as it went for the front of his coveralls. He'd thought that she might try to unzip them but was surprised when she fisted her tiny hand in the navy colored material and gave a sharp tug, bringing him closer to her until their noses were just a hair's breadth apart.
She looked him right in the eye and stated, "I can play the willing little victim here, Mac. I can be as sweet as a fuckin' angel or worse than the Devil himself. I can be as fuckin' bad as you want me ta be. But don't you sit there and expect me ta just fuckin' take it if you're gonna humiliate me or try ta force me into doin' somethin' I don't want to. I had plans before my car broke down and you fuckin' kidnapped me, ya know? You can be rough with me. You can call me all the filthy words you wanna. But don't you fuckin' think for even a second that I'm your bitch. You don't own me. No one owns me. And no man ever will own me. I'm gonna go along with this and not fight ya too bad because it's the most damn excitement I've had for a while. But don't you think that you can control me if I don't want ta be controlled."
His brows rose at that and she crushed her mouth against his before he had the chance to get a witty retort out of his mouth, her tongue sliding right into his open mouth and teasing his tongue. She captured it between those full, sensual lips and began to suck greedily at it. Her other hand came up to sift her fingers through his hair before fisting in the shaggy, brown locks as a fight for dominance ensued. Mac won and she submitted with a throaty moan.
When she eased back from the kiss, they were both panting.
"Now…" she told him, "Take me home and fuck me."
"Now listen here," he started, "Yer not the one callin' the fuckin' –,"
She rolled her eyes and interrupted him, replying, "Yes, yes. I fuckin' know. 'I'm not the one callin' the fuckin' shots here.' We both know you wanna fuck me. So get it over with already."
His brows rose at that. He just might have to change his plans with this bitch. She needed to learn that he was the dominant one and she was supposed to submit to him. She wasn't going to get away with bossing him around. That was for damn sure. He wouldn't fucking stand for that shit.
He narrowed his eyes at her and she cocked one dark brow at him. She brought her foot down to tease the crotch of his coveralls with the top of her foot and, much to his dismay, his cock was quick to respond, twitching in his coveralls and starting to perk up.
"Now tell me you don't want it," she insisted, calling him out on his reaction.
He heaved a big sigh and rolled his eyes at her before backing away and pushing himself to his feet. She was quick to push herself up from the chair and held her wrists out to him, nodding towards the cuffs that he'd dropped onto the floor during their previous scuffle.
"I'll be glad when ya fuckin' crash. Maybe then ya won't be so fuckin' crazy," Mac mumbled as he bent over to pick up the cuffs.
"Mmm… Hey, Mac?" she purred.
He couldn't help but peek up at her when she purred at him with that husky voice of hers.
"While you're down there…" she teased, one of her hands coming down to gently fist his hair and guide his face closer to the crotch of her shorts.
She ground her hips towards his face in a blatant invitation and he glared up at her. He didn't fucking appreciate the gesture.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Right. Right. 'You're the one in charge here.' What is it with men and not wanting to eat pussy? I mean is it honestly that fuckin' bad? I'm not opposed ta suckin' a dick. I'll be the first ta admit it. But will a man fuckin' reciprocate? Fuck no!"
He cocked one brow at her. So she either hadn't had her pussy eaten or she'd been with men that didn't like eating pussy. Either way, he wasn't one of those men. He loved eating pussy. But he only did it for those women that deserved it. Or those women that thought they were too fucking good for him and he wanted to make their bodies betray them. They thought it was just so taboo to feel pleasure when some "fucking redneck tweaker" teased them to arousal. Well… He'd made them fucking cum just to spite them.
"I don't fuckin' eat pussy unless the bitch deserves it," he informed her, standing up straight again, "She's gotta fuckin' prove that she's worthy of it. Or she has ta think that it's dirty and disgusting ta feel pleasure when I'm the one dishin' it out. Then I make her cum just ta spite her, the fuckin' bitch."
As Mac clicked the cuffs into place around Ziva's tiny wrists, he couldn't deny that the rope burns that marked the skin of her wrists made his dick harden a bit.
"It's a fuckin' shame," she said, shaking her head, "A woman's a lot more likely ta reciprocate if a man goes down first."
He cocked his head to one side. He'd never heard that before. He wondered if there was actually any truth to it.
"And, if a woman still doesn't wanna give a man head after he's eaten her out, then either he wasn't very good at it, she might prefer women instead, or she just doesn't like ta suck cock. Or maybe she thinks she's too good ta suck cock. Fuck I don't know. Some bitches are real fuckin' snooty," she commented.
He'd come across his fair share of uppity bitches. Those were always the least challenging. He always grew bored with them quicker than the rest of his victims. They didn't want to suck cock. Didn't want to talk dirty to him. Didn't want to take it up the ass. What the fuck were they good for anyway? The only pleasure he got from those women was making them cum against their will, proving to them that he controlled their body, their pleasure, their climax. He showed them just how weak and helpless they were. Then, after their body had betrayed them and they'd finally been forced to face the fact that they couldn't even control their own body, he killed them. After all, they'd served their purpose and were of no use to him after that. When he'd finished playing with his toys, he disposed of them.
Ziva looked up at him and gave him a sly little grin before questioning, "You gonna make me walk on my bare little feet?"
"I'm not gonna fuckin' carry ya, bitch," he snapped.
She rolled her eyes at him and inquired, "Not even a piggyback?"
He narrowed his eyes just slightly at her and answered, "Not even."
"Fine. Fine," she sighed, "Then lead the way, Master Mac."
He couldn't fight the tiny grin that curled the corner of his lips upward at that comment. He liked that. Master Mac. It made him sound powerful, like he owned her, like she was his slave. And, in a sense, she was. She was his little plaything and, by damn, he'd do whatever he damn well pleased with her, whether she liked it or not.
"I don't fuckin' think so," he stated, "You go first. I don't fuckin' trust ya."
She rolled her hazel eyes at him and retorted, "What the fuck ever. I'm the one in cuffs, not you. So how the fuck am I supposed ta do anything?"
"Yer a sneaky little bitch," he accused, pointing at her.
She cocked one dark brow at him and hinted, "I thought ya said I was stupid?"
He drew a deep breath in through his nose and heaved a big sigh but didn't say another word about the matter. Instead, he reached out with both hands to turn her around and gave her a little shove, his big hand pressing firmly against her back.
She plodded along in front of him, her tiny feet taking careful steps across the cave floor until she met the tunnel. She balked once she reached the mouth of the tunnel, refusing to take another step no matter how hard he shoved at her.
"It's fuckin' pitch black, Mac," she pointed out, "You know this place inside and out. I don't. And I'm fuckin' clumsy. You really want me ta go and get myself killed before you've even had your fun with me?"
Well, when she put it that way, no.
He gave a low little growl, voicing his displeasure at her defiance, and bent down, bringing one arm behind her neck and the other behind the back of her knees.
He hoisted her up into his arms and sneered, "Fuckin' high maintenance bitch I swear!"
"High maintenance my ass!" she retorted, "And you'd best be fuckin' careful! You smack my head off a goddamn wall and, so help me God, Mac, I'll take it out on your balls!"
He didn't fucking doubt it. So, even while he was tempted to knock her ass out again just to shut her the fuck up and make his night a little easier, he carried her carefully through the tunnel and out into the dark desert of the canyons.
He set her down as soon as they were out of the cave and she started right over for his truck without hesitation. His brows rose at that. Any other bitch would've bolted. They would've tried to make a run for it. But not this bitch. It made him wonder if maybe she was planning something.
"I can get the handle of the door open myself," she informed him, "But I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna be able ta climb up there without any help. I'm a short shit, in case you hadn't noticed, and your truck's got a lift kit on it."
He stomped a foot on the ground, sending up a cloud of dust, and growled in frustration. And the bitch had the fucking nerve to laugh at him. She giggled up a storm as she watched him throw his little tantrum, storming over to her and yanking the passenger side door of his beat up old red Chevy open and grabbing her by the sides. He hauled her up off the ground and set her down none-too-gently on the passenger seat before slamming the door behind her and sulking around to the driver's side of the truck, grumbling up a fucking storm.
He climbed right into the truck and dug into the pocket of his coveralls to pull out his tin. He popped it open and stuffed a finger into the red powder before lifting it up to coat his gums with his favorite drug of choice. He'd sure as shit need it if he had to deal with her sorry ass for the rest of the night!
He slid the tin back into his pocket and waited a few seconds. Then he ran his tongue over his gums and took a deep breath, tipping his head back and letting the adrenaline rush through his body as the rush started to set in. that was the good shit. There was nothing a good swipe of his precious meth and a good piece of ass couldn't cure. And he'd have both tonight.
Mac's head snapped up when he felt something rubbing at the crotch of his coveralls. He glanced down and discovered that it was a tiny hand. He looked over to find Ziva in the middle seat of the truck, a pout curling at those full, sensual lips.
"This would be a hell of a lot easier if you were wearin' jeans, Mac," she pointed out, her warm breath fanning over his ear and making his cock perk up a bit more, "But I can make do."
He opened his mouth to spout something off at her but a groan spilled from his lips as he felt her tiny hand wrap around his dick over the cotton material. He grunted as she gave him a firm squeeze and began to work her fist up and down the length of his cock over his coveralls.
"Ya should be sittin' over there in the fuckin' passenger seat," he nearly groaned out as she brought that sinful little mouth down to catch his earlobe between her teeth.
She sucked and nibbled, voicing a husky little purr as she squeezed his dick again.
"Mackie, I can't wait 'til we get back ta your place," she murmured into his ear just before her tongue slid up over it and she gave a long, slow breath that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his cock rise to full attention, "I want you ta fuck me now. Right here."
His eyes rolled back into his head as she snaked that wicked tongue into his ear and wiggled it, spilling a quiet little moan into his ear as she did. She eased her tongue back out and his eyes drifted shut. She was working that tiny hand up and down on his shaft over his coveralls, holding it firmly and dealing out little squeezes on occasion. He grunted, his hips rocking up off the seat to encourage her to continue her motions.
She nipped at the rise of his ear and practically growled, "I want it so fuckin' bad… You gonna give it to me, Big Mac?"
"Oh I'm gonna fuckin' give it to ya," he assured her as he twisted in his seat, turning to face her.
"Ooooo!" she cried, those hazel eyes lighting up with excitement as a huge grin stretched across her face.
She started to climb into his lap but he grabbed her by the hips and practically threw her onto her back on the seat there in the cab of his truck.
"You stay right fuckin' there," he ordered as he reached for the zipper of his coveralls, giving her a pointed glare in the hopes that she'd actually listen to him for once that night.
She reached down for the button of her shorts even as he slid the zipper of his coveralls down. He yanked the sleeves down his arms and shoved the material down to his hips before turning to face forward in the driver's seat again. He arched his hips up off of the seat and pushed the coveralls down to his ankles. He heard her tugging at her shorts and growling in frustration just before he heard the button pop right off and go flying down onto the floorboards. She yanked at the zipper even as she arched her hips, trying to wriggle her way out of her shorts despite the handcuffs on her wrists.
She spread her legs just as he turned to face her again, voicing a low growl to display her displeasure with the fact that she couldn't seem to shove her shorts down all that easily.
"Dammit, Mac!" she snarled, "A little help here?"
"Moody fuckin' bitch," he spat even as his big hands went out to yank the shorts down her long, slender legs.
He loved those legs already. They were deeply-tanned from hours spent out in the sun and they were toned, firm with muscle. He couldn't wait to have them wrapped around his waist, to feel her calves pressing at his back and her heels digging into his ass as he thrust into that pussy.
He threw her shorts down onto the floorboards and then returned his attention to Ziva.
His brows rose sky high as his eyes landed on that siren red, lacy thong that she'd been wearing underneath her shorts. It was one of those damn see-through things that revealed smooth skin underneath it, except for a small, upside-down triangle of dark curls that she kept neatly trimmed above her folds. His cock twitched in his boxers at the sight that transparent little thong displayed for his greedy eyes.
"Mac!" she scolded, making him jump slightly as he was jerked out of his thoughts.
His head snapped up and he looked at her, finding that the expression on her face was one of pure impatience.
Now that he'd seen the goods, he could totally understand her irritation. He was just as eager as she was or he wouldn't even be allowing her to snap at him like she was. Not only that but he would've made her wait until he got her back to his place if he hadn't really wanted to bury himself balls deep inside of her. She was lucky he was really Jonesing for a good fuck or she would've been in some serious fucking trouble for talking to him like that. But, with his cock doing a little fucking happy dance in his boxers in its anticipation to dive right into her pussy, he wasn't about to deny himself. Fuck he'd been fighting with his raging testosterone all damn day!
"Get that goddamn thing off of me," Ziva demanded, "And I don't care whether you fuckin' rip it or not."
He cocked one brow at her. Usually bitches chewed his ass for tearing up their panties.
"You wanna keep it?" she questioned, cocking one dark brow at him.
He hadn't really thought about it but, now that the offer was out there, he decided that he did want to keep it for later. He could add it to his little collection back at home.
Mac nodded his head and she told him, "Fine. But it's gotta come off. And so do those fuckin' boxers."
She gave a nod in the direction of the plain, white, cotton boxers he was wearing, the ones that his cock had managed to find its way out of since he'd forgotten to fasten the button after his last piss break.
She bit her bottom lip as her eyes fastened to his dick, her brows rising as she purred, "I'm sure as shit not gonna complain about that. And I think he's just as eager as she is."
She arched her hips up off of the seat to emphasize her last sentence and he was quick to reach down for the thin straps holding the tantalizing piece of lace up on her hips. He slid the thong down those long, slender legs and brought it up to bury his nose in the crotch of it and breathe in her scent. His eyes drifted shut as her scent filled his nostrils. It was the best fucking pussy he'd ever smelled. He didn't know if it was because he'd been wanting to fuck her all day or if she just had a more appealing scent than the other women he'd been with in the past. He wondered if her pussy felt as heavenly as it smelled. And that was something he was quite eager to find out.
He crammed the lacy little garment into one of the pockets of his coveralls and then tucked his cock back into his boxers before shoving them down to his knees. He tugged her up into a seated position and jerked her wife beater up over her head, having to pause to uncuff her just long enough to get the fucking thing off, before tearing her bra right down the middle to expose those big titties, relieved to discover that she hadn't been wearing a push-up bra. She'd filled those cups to the brim and still spilled over a bit. And her nipples were already starting to perk up for him.
"Whatcha want, Mackie?" Ziva asked him, licking her lips as her eyes roamed down his body to land on his cock again, "Ya want my mouth or my pussy?"
"Is that even a fuckin' question?" he retorted as he pushed her back down onto the seat of his truck.
She actually laughed at that and he was quick to cover her body with his own, groaning at the way her tiny body yielded to his larger one. Those ample, well-rounded breasts cushioned his firm chest, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his narrow hips, and the heat of her wet pussy greeted his cock in the best possible way. Hell it practically rolled out a little welcome mat for him, those soft, dark curls padding the space between his pelvis and hers. He sure as shit wouldn't be letting her shave those in the future. It made for a softer landing.
As soon as he was in place, his hand slipping in between them to take his cock and guide it right to her hot, wet, eager entrance, she brought her legs up around his waist, crossing them behind his back and trapping him against her body. Those legs were strong, holding him right up against her and refusing to let him go. Her calves pressed against his back, her heels resting over his firm ass cheeks, and she brought her arms up over his head to bring her cuffed wrists up behind his neck. One of her hands sifted her fingers through his hair and yanked him down for a hungry kiss. Her tongue fought his for dominance, even more aggressive than their previous couple of kisses back in the cave, and she captured his tongue between those full, sensual lips, sucking greedily at it as she moaned into his mouth and ground her hips up against his, trying to goad him into burying himself inside of her.
Mac's hands found her thighs, his long, thick fingers gripping them tight and sliding down to fill themselves with her ass, which he was pleased to discover was just as ample and well-rounded as her tits. He got a firm grip on her and grunted, his hips giving a harsh thrust. She spilled a sharp, throaty moan into his mouth as he practically impaled her on his length, her pussy clenching around his shaft a couple times at the sudden intrusion. She was so fucking tight and feeling her clamp down around his cock literally sucked the air right out of his fucking lungs. He peered down at her, his crystal blue orbs filled with awe.
She tipped her head back, her lips pulling back from her teeth and her hazel eyes fluttering shut as she sucked a breath in through her teeth. The little hiss she made, accompanied by the fact that her inner walls were damn tight around his dick, informed him that she hadn't had a man as big as he was inside of her yet. He was stretching her, filling her to the brink. And she fit him like a fucking glove. But the way she bit her bottom lip and rocked her hips up to meet his, sliding him the rest of the way inside, and the way her nails raked at his scalp told him that she liked it.
The raven-haired hellcat didn't wait for him to set the pace. Instead, she eased her hips away from his before rocking them up to meet his again, pressing at his ass with her heels even as she arched her back to press those large breasts up into his chest.
"Fuck, Mac!" Ziva cursed, "Oh God…"
He growled, quickly taking charge of the situation and regaining control as he picked up a quick, hard, merciless pace. She gripped his hair tighter and let loose a deep, husky moan for him as he angled his hips, the head of his broad cock slamming into that rough, spongy patch along her upper wall even as his hips slammed into her clit.
"Yes! Yes!" she praised, arching her back and tipping her head back again, "Ohhh yes!"
She was a fucking loud bitch but he couldn't deny the fact that he'd never heard moans that fucking sexy. The bitches in the porn industry had nothing on this little raven-haired vixen.
Mac's gaze landed on her exposed throat and found that he just couldn't resist. He leaned down to sink his teeth into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, snarling as his teeth pierced the soft, tender skin there and the tangy, metallic taste of her blood flooded his senses. The shout she voiced for him assured him that she loved the way the pain mixed with the pleasure. Her nails raked over his scalp again and he groaned against her skin.
He swirled his tongue over the wound, lapping at the crimson blood that flowed out of the bite mark he'd left there. Fuck hickeys. He wanted to mark her well enough that she'd be left with his little souvenir for weeks. When he finally eased his head back, Ziva was quick to lean up, dealing a sharp little nip to his cheek before bringing her mouth to his ear, her hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin.
"Mmmmm…" she moaned, "You're so fuckin' bad, Mackie. I fuckin' love it."
He couldn't fight the crooked little smirk that curled at his thin lips at that and she ran her tongue up over his ear. She spilled a gasp right into his ear, all 10 of her nails raking over his scalp as he grunted, his hips giving a sharp buck at the sensation of that hot, wet muscle working over his ear.
"Ah!" she cried, her heels digging deeper into his ass even as she tried to coax him into a slightly faster pace, "Mmm… fuck, Mac!"
Mac brought one of his hands down to rest it on the seat of the truck while his other one held the back of her thigh, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust harder, quickening his pace a little as he slammed into her. She gasped, her hips stuttering against his own as the broad head of his cock rammed into that rough, spongy patch that was buried deep inside of her, along her upper wall.
Her hands fisted in his hair and she gave a slight tug as she tipped her head back, a long, throaty moan spilling from those full, sensual lips as the pleasure coursed through her body.
"Mac! Oh! Oh fuck! Yes! Oh yes!" the little raven-haired siren shouted, "Oh you fuck me so good! Come on, you dirty little fucker… Mmmmm… Oh! Harder! Fuck me harder! Don't you fuckin' hold back on me."
Mac's brows hiked up his forehead and he looked down at her, finding those hazel eyes growing darker as they peered up at him. Her thighs gripped him tight, her heels egging him on. Hell he'd already been fucking her right into the damn seat of his truck! He'd never been tender with his victims. He wasn't one to take it easy on them. He fucked them hard and he didn't hesitate to mark them with his hands or his mouth. Ziva had been no exception tonight. And she wanted it harder?
"Ya want it harder, ya dirty little bitch?" he asked her.
"Oh yes!" she cried, nodding her head at him even as he felt her inner walls started to flutter around him.
He gasped and she gave him a wicked little grin, inquiring, "Like that?"
"Ya fuckin' did that on purpose?" he questioned.
She nodded her head and said, "I know a few tricks."
He gave her a devilish grin and retorted, "So do I, bitch."
He angled his hips, allowing himself to thrust against her in a different position, the head of his dick prodding at that sweet spot inside of her, which was now swelling, thanks to his punishing thrusts. His pelvis rubbed over her clit instead of pressing against it, and she voiced a loud gasp of surprise, her eyes widening and her nails scraping at his scalp.
"Fuckin' toldja," he pointed out.
She narrowed her eyes at him and replied, "Challenge accepted. We'll see who cums first."
He felt her clench tight around his shaft and then loosen before repeating the process a few more times, her smirk stretching further and further across her face even as she scratched lightly at his scalp with her nails. His hips jerked, desperate to feel more of the maddening sensation of her spasming around his cock, and she cried out in pleasure, arching her hips and her back at the same time. He felt her nipples, so rigid and puckered to display just how fucking aroused she was, rubbing against his firm, cotton-clad chest.
He leaned down, burying his face in her neck and voicing a growl of pleasure as he sank his teeth into her soft, silky skin. He didn't bite hard enough to pierce the skin this time but he sucked hard enough that he knew he'd leave a nice little hickey behind, just another mark on her body to prove that he'd dominated her, that he'd possessed her. She gave a tug at his hair and voiced her approval with a whine.
"Yer such a filthy fuckin' whore," he accused, his hot breath fanning over her ear.
"Yes!" she was quick to agree.
The sweat was dripping down his body, pooling between them as his hips smacked into hers.
"You ever been fucked this good?" he prompted.
"No!" came her immediate answer.
His lips twitched upward into a cocky, crooked little smirk, and she gasped, her legs pressing him even closer, wrapping around him even tighter.
"Fuck! Mac!" she whimpered, the sound coming out as a broken plea.
"Yer gonna lose at yer own fuckin' game, ya dirty little slut," he taunted, using his hands to guide her movements, tugging her closer before pulling her away even as he gave sharp, calculated thrusts against her.
"Damn you!" Ziva cursed him, glaring up at him with those hazel eyes.
He just smirked at her and she changed tactics, giving hard, rhythmic contractions of her inner muscles around his shaft, squeezing his dick before releasing it. The fluttering of her muscles might have been intentional but his cock didn't know the difference. Mac snarled as leaned down to sink his teeth into her right breast, sinking his teeth in deep until he heard her moan of pleasure drift off into a growl of pain. She yanked firmly at his hair even as he lapped the blood from her flesh.
"You dirty fuckin' prick," she practically purred as he used one hand to reach down between them and swirl a couple blunt, calloused fingertips over that sensitive little bundle of nerves between her wet folds.
Hell she was so fucking wet for him that her body was making rude noises, her pleasure and arousal undeniable to his hyper-vigilant senses.
He opened his mouth to spout something off at her but she was quick to lean up and crush her lips to his, her open mouth eagerly meeting his. She voiced a breathy little whine into his mouth and he swallowed it down, reveling in the way her tiny little body began to tense up beneath him and the fact that her skin was growing hot to the touch. She was nearing her climax and she'd be a liar if the tried to deny it.
Mac caught the little nub between his fingertips and gave it a pinch, grinning from ear to ear as he heard her gasp and felt her heels scramble over his ass. Her back arched and those big titties pressed up into his chest as her hands tugged at his hair. But she wasn't done fighting yet.
She caught his bottom lip in between her sharp little teeth and gave him a harsh nip, drawing his blood for the third time that night. She sucked greedily at it and gripped him tight between those strong thighs, her feet pressing against his firm ass cheeks even as she rocked her hips hard against his, essentially trapping him right up against her body and taking control of the situation.
He snarled and jerked his head away from her, his piercing, blue eyes narrowing as he glared down at her.
"Not gonna fuckin' happen," he informed her, "Yer not gonna fuckin' make me go first."
Usually Mac wouldn't let a bitch have hers until after he'd gotten his fill of her. Hell, he refused to let them cum unless he thought they deserved it or if he wanted to turn their own body against them because they thought they were too good for a "sick psycho" like him. He always got his first. And now he was telling her that she wasn't going to make him cum before he got her off? What the fuck was this bitch doing to him? Everything about her was fucking backwards. Everything about her challenged him, excited him. He did things he'd never done, said things he'd never said, felt things he'd never felt. She brought out his competitive side, brought out his darker side, brought out the primal, possessive side of him.
She gave him a wicked little grin that made a shudder of excitement and anticipation run down his spine just before she brought her mouth to his ear and murmured, "Fuckin' watch me."
She clenched those inner muscles tight around his cock, fluttering them even as she ran her tongue up over his ear. She gave a long, slow breath against his ear and a shudder ripped through his large frame as his balls started to draw up, growing heavier as they filled with his seed until they hung like rocks between his fucking thighs.
"Mmmmm… Come on, Mackie. Fuckin' do it, you dirty little fucker. Cum for me. You know I want it. So give it to me," she coached, nibbling at his earlobe before nipping at the rise of his ear, "Cum so fuckin' hard for me."
She brought her hands down to his shoulders and sank her nails in, raking her nails as far down his back as she could reach with the cuffs restricting her movements.
And he couldn't help it. He just couldn't fight it.
"Fuck!" he roared, his head flying back as he shivered, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself inside of her, his back bowing with the force of his orgasm.
And he came not a second too soon, his orgasm spurring her into her own. He felt her sink those nails deep into his skin even as her inner walls quaked around his cock and her thighs shook around his waist. Her breath hitched in her throat for a few seconds before a sharp, throaty moan coursed up from her throat.
Shit he'd never come so fucking hard in all his life! His jaw clenched shut tight, his face scrunching up as the most intense high he'd ever experienced rushed through his system, rolling over him like a fucking tidal wave and sweeping him under the current of pure bliss that filled his body. He was practically pulsing with pleasure by the time he'd emptied himself inside of her and his hips had stopped bucking. He slumped over on top of her, burying his face in the side of her neck as he basked in the after-glow. His breath was sawing in and out of him and it was a struggle to even pull air into his lungs, his body shivering as the aftershocks rolled through his body.
He realized two things then. One, they hadn't used a condom so he hoped like hell that she was on the fucking pill. And two, she'd been the first woman to ever make him cum before he was ready to. She'd won. She'd defeated him. And no bitch had ever beaten him at anything.
"Yer a fuckin' cheater," he grumbled as he started to regain his breath and slow his racing heartbeat.
"And you're a sore fuckin' loser," she replied.
"Ah, bite me," he mumbled into her neck.
She sank her teeth into his cheek, dealing him an almost affectionate little nip before inquiring, "When are you ever gonna fuckin' learn? I won't back down from a fuckin' challenge, Mac."
"Fuck you," he replied.
"You just did," she pointed out, nuzzling lightly at his temple with the tip of her nose.
"Shut the fuck up," he told her.
She just laughed before he felt her body completely relax. She turned her head to rest her cheek against his, a smile curling at those full, sensual lips, and gave a throaty little purr of contentment.
"We really oughta do that more often," she sighed, "I'd be lyin' if I said that wasn't the best fuck I've ever had."
His lips curled up into a wicked little smirk and he dealt her cheek a playful nip, growling against her skin, before informing her, "Well… Yer mine ta do with as I damn well please. So I'll be fuckin' that pussy at least once a fuckin' day."
"Mmmm… I'm gonna need it more often than that, Mac," she informed him, "I'm a fuckin' greedy bitch."
He just chuckled at that and she insisted, "I'm fuckin' serious. I expect morning sex and goodnight sex. And that's if you're lucky and I don't demand it during your lunch break too."
His smirk only grew wider at that. She had no fucking idea how insatiable his appetite for sex was. The more he learned about this bitch, the more he was starting to realize that he'd be keeping her around for a while.
=Walter=
Walter Sanchez was at the Luna Mesa, wiping off the bar after the small group of regulars had stopped in for lunch, when Devon returned to the bar. Walter glanced over at the door when he heard it swing open and watched as his younger son walked in. Devon headed straight for one of the bar stools and took a seat.
Walter sauntered over as Devon glanced around the bar. When Devon realized that there wasn't anyone in the bar, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Walter's brows furrowed and he asked, "What's got you so tense, son? You sure left in a hurry earlier."
"There's gonna be trouble in Caineville," Devon answered.
Walter's frown deepened and he inquired, "What are you talking about?"
"That girl that moved into the old Mendocino place –," Devon started.
"Ah, Mariska?" Walter questioned, giving Devon a sly grin.
Devon shook his head and insisted, "Her name's not Mariska Rudaj. It's Dahlia Chevenandrova."
Walter's frown returned and he asked, "But why would she lie about her name?"
"Because she's in the most notorious gang in all of Los Angeles County," Devon replied.
Walter's dark eyes grew real wide and his brows hiked up his forehead before his eyes narrowed a bit.
"Surely you must have her confused with someone else," Walter stated.
But his youngest son just shook his head and informed him, "I'm sure it's Dahlia. She's had her picture shown on TV more times than I can count. She's the leader of the Black Rose Rebellion. The guys she was with were her second and third in command, Chaz Mathers and Wick Ramsey."
"She's in a gang?" Walter asked in disbelief, his eyes narrowing even further.
Devon nodded and repeated, "The most notorious one in all of Los Angeles County."
Walter's brows wrinkled and he pressed, "Why would they leave Los Angeles to come here then?"
"Some pretty serious shit went down back in L.A. and the top 3 dogs had to get the hell outta dodge," Devon commented.
"And what exactly does 'some pretty serious shit' mean?" Walter prompted.
Devon shrugged and said, "I don't really know all the details yet. They're still investigatin' it and stuff. But the L.A.P.D. has been tryin' ta bring these guys down for the past 5 years now. The problem is, they're a little too good at blackmailin' those that pose a risk to their operation. And, if they can't blackmail their enemies, they find their weaknesses and use them against them – family, friends, lovers, whatever it takes. If that doesn't work, they take 'em out. These guys are some pretty serious gangsters."
Walter's brows rose at that.
"And just what did they do back in Los Angeles?" Walter inquired.
"Shit! What didn't they do?" Devon countered, shaking his head, "They weren't just some damn 'graffiti gang'. They were the real fuckin' deal – guns, drugs, prostitutes, chop shop where they fixed up stolen cars to sell, street racin'. They did it all. But they didn't tolerate competition…"
Walter's eyes narrowed at that. It didn't take a damn rocket scientist to figure out what he was hinting at.
"Mac's been doing good lately," Walter pointed out, "And you and I both know that Mac's usually behind on his orders and he's so goddamn impossible to keep on task. That boy's more trouble than his whore of a mother was, always as high as a fuckin' kite and as risky as a loose cannon."
Devon nodded in agreement and Walter sighed.
"They wouldn't pose a threat to either you or me, would they?" Walter questioned.
Devon shook his head and replied, "They don't know anything about your business with Mac. And they don't know that I know who they are."
Walter nodded at that. Good. At least he wouldn't have to worry about them coming after him or Devon.
"And Mac?" Walter asked.
Walter watched Devon closely as Devon gave a little cringe and replied, "If they find out what he cooks, I don't know. If they view him as competition, dad…"
Walter nodded. He didn't need to hear any more. He knew that Mac would do whatever he wanted, regardless of what Walter told him. Hell he'd never been one to stop and think about the risks involved with his actions and he never would be. So, while Mac was his real money maker, Mac was usually a real fucking liability. While he'd been doing well the past 3 weeks, keeping up on his orders and going to the shop every day when he wasn't cooking out at the cave, he'd slip up eventually. He always did. No matter how closely he was following Walter's orders at the moment, Walter knew that he'd really fuck up sooner or later, probably within the fucking week. His good behavior never lasted for more than a few days so it had been shocking as hell to see him flying straight for 3 whole weeks. But Walter would take advantage of his obedience as long as it would last.
"I told Mac that they were here in Caineville," Devon informed him.
"And?" Walter prompted.
"And he seems ta think he's bulletproof," Devon answered, "He doesn't seem ta think they're a serious threat."
Walter heaved another sigh and shrugged his shoulders, saying, "Then I guess that's Mac's problem."
Then an idea hit him. Maybe he could get this new gang to fill Mac's spot. Then he could finally be done with Mac's bullshit. It wouldn't be hard to find someone to replace his oldest son, considering his constant state of dysfunction.
"They won't work for anyone," Devon commented, almost as if he knew where Walter's thoughts were now heading, "And, if they're wronged, they won't give a person the chance to explain or reconcile with them. They just… make them disappear… forever. And, if they are found, it's because the Rebellion wants them to be found, ta scare others into compliance and submission or ta send a message to the people that person knows."
Walter gave a slow nod. Well, Mac would just have to fend for himself then. Walter had more important shit to worry about and it didn't involve Mac's sorry ass.
Albanian Translations:
Babai? – Father?
Ah, Dahlia. Si është vajza ime foshnja? – Ah, Dahlia. How is my baby girl?
Duket se ne u përplas me disa telashe përsëri në Los Angeles. – It seems we ran into some trouble back in Los Angeles.
Çfarë lloj telashe? – What kind of trouble?
E keqe e mjaftueshme që Wick, Chaz, dhe unë kam për të ikur nga Los Angeles dhe të gjejnë një vend për të hedhur të ulët derisa gjërat të hedhur mbi mbrapa në L.A. – Bad enough that Wick, Chaz, and I had to flee from Los Angeles and find a place to lay low until things blow over back in L.A.
Dhe pse nuk ju vijnë në Shqipëri, Dahlia im? Ju e dini se ju jeni gjithmonë të mirëpritur këtu. – And why did you not come to Albania, my Dahlia? You know that you are always welcome here.
Unë e di, baba. Por unë nuk duan të rrezikojnë autoritetet duke u përpjekur për të marrë dikush tjetër poshtë me ne, në qoftë se ata do të arrijnë të na gjeni. Unë nuk dua të sjellë probleme apo turp për familjen time. – I know, father. But I don't want to risk the authorities trying to take anyone else down with us, if they DO manage to find us. I don't want to bring trouble or shame to my family.
Dashuria e një baba-së nuk njeh turp.. – A father's love knows no shame.
Unë e di, baba. – I know, father.
Por ju jeni të sigurt? – But you are safe?
Po, po. Unë të na gjetur një shtëpi simpatik të vogël për ne për të qëndruar në një qytet të vogël rurale. Nuk ka asgjë për milje e milje. Dhe kushdo që përbën një kërcënim për të mbuluar tonë do të jenë të shpejt dhe në heshtje asgjësuar. Ne kemi marrë atë nën kontroll, baba. – Yes, yes. I found us a charming little house for us to stay in a tiny rural town. There's nothing for MILES and miles. And anyone that poses a threat to our cover will be quickly and quietly disposed of. We've got it under control, father.
Ah, kjo është vajza ime. – Ah, that's my girl.
Unë kam zbuluar se ju keni një motër atje në Shtetet e Bashkuara, moj e shtrenjta Dahlia. – I have discovered that you have a sister there in the United States, my darling Dahlia.
Me të vërtetë? – Really?
Unë do të thotë atë me të vërtetë. – I mean it truly.
Kjo nuk është një tjetër një nga shaka tuaj të dehur, është ajo? – This isn't another one of your drunken jokes, is it?
Jo, jo. Nëna më ka kontaktuar disa muaj më parë, ranting dhe cussing një stuhi se si unë kishte një vajzë dhe kurrë nuk e kishte shqetësuar për të dërguar ndonjëherë asaj një qindarkë për të mbështetur atë. Tha të vërtetën, ajo ka qenë gjithmonë një rrodhe. Doja të jetë i sigurt se fëmija ishte me të vërtetë e imja. Në fund të fundit, nëse ajo është vajza ime, kam kërkuar për të parë prova. Unë kam vetëm rezultatet përsëri dje. Ajo e imja. Ju duhet të shikoni foton e saj, Dahlia. Ajo duket aq shumë si ju. Të gjatë, me onde, korbi me ngjyrë të flokëve dhe të lëkurës thellë-tanned. Sytë e saj janë hazel. Nuk ka mohuar se ajo është me prejardhje shqiptare. Nuk ka dyshim se ajo është një Chevenandrova.– No, no. The mother contacted me a few months ago, ranting and cussing up a storm about how I had a daughter and had never bothered to ever send her a penny to support it. Truth be told, she's always been a leech. I wanted to be sure that the child was really mine. After all, if she's my daughter, I wanted to see the proof. I just got the results back yesterday. She's mine. You should see her picture, Dahlia. She looks SO much like you. Long, wavy, raven-colored hair and deeply-tanned skin. Her eyes are hazel. There's no denying that she's of Albanian descent. There's no doubt that she's a Chevenandrova.
Ku është ajo? Ku është motra ime foshnja? – Where is she? Where is my baby sister?
Tani për tani unë jam duke u përpjekur për të gjetur një mënyrë për të gjetur atë poshtë. Në fakt, unë jam duke e bërë një udhëtim të veçantë mbi të Shteteve të vetëm për të ndjekur e saj poshtë. Dhe unë jam duke e çuar djemtë me mua. Nëse ajo ka qenë në kujdesin e nënës së saj gjithë këto vite nuk ka thënë se çfarë lloj tmerret ajo e vuajtur nëpër. Zoti e di nëna e saj ishte një ferr i një kurvë egoiste, të interesuar vetëm në çështjet që fjalë veten. – Right now I'm trying to find a way to track her down. In fact, I'm making a special trip over to the States just to track her down. And I'm bringing the boys with me. If she's been in her mother's care all these years there's no TELLING what kind of horrors she's suffered through. God knows her mother was one hell of a selfish bitch, only interested in matters that concerned herself.
Babi, më tregoni se çfarë unë mund të bëj. – Father, tell me what I can do.
Ju vetëm të qëndrojë aty ku je, Dahlia ime. Unë nuk e di edhe ku ajo është ende. Unë nuk mund të shkojnë humbur vajza e vetme unë e di, tani mund unë? Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar aty ku ju jeni të sigurt. Kur ne të gjeni atë, unë do të lidhen me ju. – You just stay where you are, my Dahlia. I don't even know where she is yet. I can't go losing the only daughter I know, now can I? I need you to stay where you're safe. When we find her, I'll contact you.
Por, baba – But, father
Mos 'Por, baba 'mua. Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar vënë. Kur ne gjejmë atë, ne do të sjellë atë për të parë ju. Ju mendoni se vëllezërit e tu nuk janë të etur për të përmbushur e saj, si dhe? - Don't 'But, father' me. I need you to stay put. When we find her, we'll bring her to see you. You think your brothers aren't eager to meet her as well?
Ju të paktën do të më thoni emrin e saj? – Will you at least tell me her name?
Emri i saj është Ziva. – Her name is Ziva.
Sa e vjetër është ajo? – How old is she?
Ajo duhet të jetë kthyer 21 Maj. Ajo është vetëm nja dy vjet më të rinj se ju, Dahlia im. – She should be turning 21 in May. She's just a couple years younger than you, my Dahlia.
Më duhet të shkoj tani. Unë do t'ju kur kemi gjetur atë. Të dua, Dahlia tim ëmbël. – I have to go now. I'll call you when we locate her. I love you, my sweet Dahlia.
Unë të dua shumë, baba. Ajo ishte e bukur për të dëgjuar nga ju. – I love you too, father. It was nice to hear from you.
Lyrics from the Songs:
Going to Hell by The Pretty Reckless
You Call Me a Bitch Like It's a Bad Thing by Halestorm
The thank you notes got pushed to chapter 3 since I had to cut this chapter in half – it was fucking huge. And it might not have been a totally naked Mac, but it was at least a partially naked Mac. I figured it was sex, so you wouldn't care anyway. *winks* And Mac says, "If their panties are still dry, yer just gonna hafta fuckin' try harder next time."
