Little Fury: Book 1 of The deadly Little Thing Trilogy
Little Fury: Chapter 19

The first week goes faster than I want it to. We both enjoy the house and the ocean. There’s a hammock out back that is the best place to read and nap. Week two is busier. I have a lot to do at the bank, sorting out my trust funds, investments and properties my parents left me. I decided to sell most of the properties, not wanting to own so much.

I kept a couple of buildings, one in New York, because I remember how much I loved my parents’ penthouse there. The building is very profitable because of its mix of commercial and residential spaces. I kept the house I grew up in and my grandfather’s estate in Ireland. I instructed my lawyer to sell everything else.

Even before the sale of the properties, I was a very wealthy woman. After the sale of things, I’ll be even more so. I have no idea what I’ll do with all this money. I could live, travel, and not work. I could, but I won’t. I’d be bored in weeks. Harry, The Ranch, and my biological mother put a lot of time and money into creating me. I don’t want that to go to waste.

Sure, that’s why you want to work.

I’m sitting in one of the loungers on the deck on my computer, going over a few things—currently, any jobs I take come from Parker. I haven’t accepted any, and I won’t until Marcus and I have dealt with Enzo, and he’s in place as the new head of the Rossi family.

After that, things are a little muddier. We always said we would run things together, but I have come to learn over the last couple of years I despise the Mafia. I dislike every single aspect of organized crime families. I hate how they flaunt themselves, how they treat women and the queer community. I hate the racism they all spew. I hate the use of brute force they employ in most situations.

If the Rossi and Sokolovs were like the Campbell organization, that would be a whole other story. The Campbells seem to be a new type of crime family. Liam Campbell doesn’t do things the way his grandfather did. He doesn’t hold the same values as Enzo and the others. I have faith that Marcus will be better than Enzo in all the ways that matter, but I also wonder how much pressure and influence he will withstand. Will his familial obligations overtake the other influences in his life?

Marcus is on a run on the beach, and I can see him on his way back. He’s tanned, and his body has a layer of sweat that makes his muscles glisten. He smiles at me as he steps onto the deck and removes his headphones.

“Good run?” I ask.

“It was. I’m going to shower quick,” he replies.

I nod and go back to my computer. Instead of going inside to shower, Marcus, heads to the outdoor shower nestled in some trees back here. It offers breathtaking views of the ocean, especially in the evening after a late swim. Stepping into the shower, he turns it on. I watch as his muscles move under his skin while he sets the water temperature and grabs the toiletries from the cupboard.

With his back to me, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, sliding them over his trim hips and then over his trim hips and then his ass, letting them drop to the ground, and stepping out of them into the water. I watch him.

His movements are controlled and graceful. During training, I loved to watch him stalk his prey. Marcus is silent when he moves when he wants to be. He has always been light on his feet, silent in his approach with excellent control of his body. He’s a sight to behold fully dressed, naked? Naked Marcus makes my mouth water.

He grabs the shampoo, washing his hair. The water rinsing the shampoo down him, over every dip and ridge of muscle in its path. I know I should stop looking, but the sight of him wet and glistening is intoxicating, I bite my lip to stop a groan from escaping.

I should look away, but no one would look away from him, soapy and wet.

Marcus is male beauty personified.

Grabbing the soap he rubs it over his chest, the sight of him causes my breath to become locked in my lungs. The soap leaves a path of lather over his tan skin, as the water cascades over him, washing it away. It runs down his body and my eyes track its path. Over his pecs, down his sternum, across the ridges of his abs.

My mind instantly conjures a vision of myself running my hands over those ridges, my tongue following behind them.

I give my head a shake and focus on the man in front of me. His hands still running the soap over his body, I catch my lip between my teeth biting it.

He likes me watching him. I have to bite my lip harder when I see how hard her is.

I clench my thighs the throb between he becoming intense. I can’t look away from him as his hand runs over the base of his cock. Wrapping his hand around the shaft, pumping it slowly.

He grips himself hard as he works his hand up and down, over the head and back down to the base. The soap drops from his other hand, when he places it on the top of the shower wall. His knuckles white as he grips it.

His stomach moves faster as his breathing picks up, matching the rhythm of his hand working his cock. He thrusts his hips, fucking himself into his hand harder. His grip tightens, and he releases an unrestrained guttural moan. The sexiest sound I have ever heard. I look up to his eyes, seeing how dark they are as he focuses on me watching him.

I know he’s close as his movements become erratic and faster. His breathing increases. “Fuck,” I hear him grunt through gritted teeth. I rub my thighs together and watch him as he cums hard all over his hand. It is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I look back up at him, seeing him looking at me with a hunger that makes my toes curl.

I need to escape from him, from this, or I’m going to do something, and I don’t know if I’m ready or even want us to do it. He must see the panic on my face. “Ava,” he says. I slap my computer closed placing it on the table and stand up, walking as fast as I can without breaking into a run. I get to my room, slam the door behind me, and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.

“Fuck. What the fuck? What the fuck are we doing?” I ask myself. I’m so turned on right now. I know if I slid my fingers into my panties, they would be soaked. If I stroked my clit, I would replace it swollen. If I rubbed it, I would come so fast and so hard. I bang the back of my head against the door a couple of times before sliding down to sit on the floor.

I look at myself in the mirror across from me. I see my rapid breaths and my flushed cheeks, and I give in. I spread my legs as I slide my fingers under the waistband of my shorts and into my panties. I’m soaked and I groan as I run my fingers t. I shudder when I through it, skimming over my entrance, barely dipping in.

My bike shorts are too tight, too restrictive so I remove them and my panties. Spreading my legs again, I use my other hand to open my pussy for myself. I see Marcus gripping his cock and stroking himself, faster and faster. I rub my clit slowly, feeling how swollen it is and enjoying the bolts of pleasure that shoot through me as my orgasm builds.

I dip a finger into my entrance and pump into myself over and over. My hips move, and I place my other hand on the ground behind my ass so I can fuck myself harder on my hand. I let out a moan louder than I expected, wondering if he can hear me, if he knows what watching him did to me, that I’m in here making myself cum as I think about him fisting himself in the shower.

I raise my head and watch myself in the mirror. I watch my fingers in my pussy pumping in and out. I press the heel of my hand into my clit, hearing how wet I am. I’m so close. My breathing is rapid, I rub against my clit, watching myself in the mirror, and I explode. I come so hard that my eyes roll into the back of my head. As I come down from my orgasm, I wonder where he is, if he heard me. I’m unsure if I hope he did or didn’t.

I stayed in my room for a bit getting cleaned up and dressed—this time in a bikini and cover-up. When I leave my room, I replace Marcus lying on the couch, reading. He looks up at me, and I know he heard me. I know he listened to me as I came, thinking of him. I feel my cheeks start to heat, but I don’t let them. I won’t feel bad or ashamed for enjoying my body or anyone else’s. He grins at me, and I return it. Then I see what book he’s reading.

“Dude, are you reading Soul Eater?”

“I am. You left it out, and I was curious, so I picked it up. Gotta say, not sure what I was expecting, but I’m now invested and need to know if they get together.”

“Gay monster porn for the win. Got it,” I laugh.

“Going for a swim?”

“Yeah, I feel the pull of the ocean.”

“Want company?”

“I always want your company, Marcus.”

“Then let’s go, beautiful.”