Page 46 of Cannon
I tried to step around him, needing to escape the intensity building between us, but he was faster. His hand shot out, sliding up my thigh, under my dress. The heat of his palm burned through me.
“Stop,” I gasped, shoving at his chest. He didn’t move an inch, solid as a wall.
His fingers caressed the outside of my panties, rubbing right over my pulsing clit. With his other hand, he gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at him.
“Listen to me carefully,” he whispered, his lips nearly brushing mine. “When I decide I want you, and I will, I’m gonna take you. And you won’t stop me. You don’t get to decide this.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, fear and desire tangling inside me until I couldn’t tell them apart. I should have been outraged, should have slapped him, fired him on the spot. Instead, I stood frozen, my body betraying me with every rapid breath.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” I managed to say, but there was no conviction behind it.
He smiled, a predator who knew his prey was already caught. “Maybe. But so are you for wanting it.”
Then he released me, stepping back so suddenly I almost stumbled. Without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door with a soft click that echoed in the silence.
I collapsed into my chair, legs weak, skin burning where he’d touched me. Anger and arousal warred inside. I was going to have to fire him because this couldn’t keep happening.
Chapter 17
Cannon
I shouldn’t have been thinking about the feel of her pussy through her panties while heading to a funeral.
But there I was, adjusting my black tie in the rearview mirror of Reese’s car, and all I could see was Queen’s face when my fingers slid under her dress. The way she lost her breath. How her eyes went wide, then heavy. The heat of her through that thin fabric, already wet for me.
Fuck.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on what was ahead. Tyran’s funeral. The man who’d been my boy for years. The same man who died with my crypto fortune locked in his brain. Millions gone because this stupid motherfucker couldn’t stay alive long enough for me to get out and claim what was mine.
I should’ve been thinking about that. About the money I lost. About how I was going to retrieve it.
Instead, all I could think about was Queen. But she was even more of a reason to get that cash. Even though I was a broke nigga right now, I knew I could pull her. But she deserve so much more than a nigga who ain’t have no money. So, I needed to be at this funeral and repast to see what I could find out.
I pulled into the church parking lot, my mind still torn between Queen and the bullshit I was about to face. The church was packed. He was a good dude so that was to be expected. I smoothed down my suit jacket and stepped out of Reese’s car, my face a mask of indifference as I joined the flow of mourners heading inside.
A portrait of Tyran smiled down from beside the pulpit. I shook my head thinking “Damn, my nigga. An overdose?” The casket sat open at the front, surrounded by arrangements of white lilies and roses.
I took a seat in the middle, not too close, not too far. The preacher was already going on about how Tyran was “called home” and “in a better place now.” Bullshit. Tyran was face-down in a pile of coke when they found him. The only place he got called to was the morgue.
When it was time for the viewing, I waited my turn. Row by row, people filed past the casket, some crying, others just nodding respectfully before moving on. Finally, I approached, looking down at what remained of my boy.
He looked waxy, artificial. They’d cleaned him up nice, put him in a suit I knew he would’ve hated. This wasn’t the Tyran I knew. My Tyran was loud, always moving, always talking shit. This shell in front of me was just that—a shell.
I leaned down, my face arranged in what anyone watching would assume was grief. My lips nearly touched his ear, like I was saying a final goodbye to my brother. But what came out was pure rage, whispered so only he could hear.
“I should kill yo’ ass for dying on me. Left me hanging with no way to get my money. Selfish-ass nigga.”
A woman behind me sniffled, probably thinking I was whispering sweet prayers. If only she knew.
I gave my boy one last hard look before moving away from the casket. Nothing but anger churning in my gut. Thismothafucka had the key to my entire fortune, and now he was laid out wearing a suit he would’ve clowned if he was alive.
After the service, I followed the procession of cars to Tyran’s house. I thought it was odd for the repast to be there, but then I remembered he probably had the largest house of his family.
I stood in the corner of the living room, nursing a drink somebody had pressed into my hand, watching. Observing. Waiting for an opportunity. Draya had been busy at the funeral and I didn’t want to disturb her but I did come here to support her and find out about my money.
“Cannon?”
I turned and there she was. She was still as pretty as I remembered. We broke up back then because I wasn’t ready to commit. I was too focused on hustling.
