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ADIR

One minute I was in my office, dividing my attention between charts and recalling the way Pretty stared at me over breakfast. The next minute, I joined my trauma team by TRAUMA ROOM 1.

Gunshot victims weren’t anything new around here.

What was new was walking to the trauma room and seeing Pretty standing there ready to jump into action beside me.

Black scrubs were everyone’s attire.

However, my woman looked extra delicious in the set.

To think, I almost let this vision escape me because I was too selfish to want her working here knowing how badly I wanted her.

She glanced at the gun in the front of my waist band, then back at me.

This wasn’t anything new either.

She’d get used to it.

I didn’t walk into any room or perform any surgery without my heat on me.

Those were times when I was most vulnerable—even with security having my building locked down tighter than some fresh cornrows on two inches of hair.

Still, once those doors closed with just me and the patient, I wasn’t going to let them think shit was sweet.

I walked up next to Pretty with a smirk.

She blushed and gave me a look to stop looking at her like I wanted to hem her up.

I did want to hem her up.

Once she was ready for us to take things to the next level, I would gladly lead her to ecstasy.

Until then, I had to settle for seducing her.

“Stop it,” she mumbled.

Lowly, I chuckled, and her cheeks darkened even more.

Mischievously, I bit my lip.

“This is our first time… Working a trauma together, that is.” She’d observed during our last trauma, getting to know how things worked around here.

Bianca was right. Pretty was down for the cause.

She didn’t question a thing and handled business like Bianca knew she would.

My sister deserved a gift for her excellent discernment.

Seconds later, the sounds of emergency crews coming up the hallway took my mind off of Pretty and onto our victim.

Inwardly, I had to shake my head at the gaping wound in the young man’s chest. The wound didn’t deter Pretty from moving into action.

Like a sexy ass machine, she went to work, readily having everything that I asked for.

Glancing down at the young man lying on the gurney, I hated to see death there.

Sometimes, though. There was absolutely nothing I could do.

An hour later, I entered the family conference room to speak with the young man’s family.

Pretty accompanied me.

For the last few minutes, I’d wondered if she was cool.

She’d been quiet and solemn since we called the young man’s time of death.

Clarence Webber stood to shake my hand.

I could already see in his eyes that he knew the outcome of his son’s injury.

Noticeably, Mrs. Webber was absent.

The Webber family owned a local drug store, which they used to house other shit besides prescription medication.

They were wealthy and living life quietly.

However, their oldest son wanted to be a gangster so badly.

No matter what they did, they couldn’t keep him on the straight and narrow.

"You did everything you could, right?” he questioned.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

He hung his head, then nodded. “Alright. Is he…presentable enough for me to see him?”

“Of course.” I led Mr. Webber from the conference room and to the trauma room where his son’s lifeless body laid covered on the gurney. He took a deep breath, then entered the room. I slid the glass door closed behind him to give him some privacy.

Turning to Pretty, I asked, “You good, baby?”

“Don’t start,” she warned. “There’s no need for that. If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have applied for the job.”

For a second, I thought about feeling a way about her not needing my reassurance. Then again, her confidence was something to be noted. Working in this field required such confidence. So, I simply smiled.

“I apologize, my love. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t built for this.”

She offered me a strange look, one I remembered from this morning, then softly sighed.

“Apology accepted, Dr. Bell. I’ll wait here with Mr. Webber if that’s okay.”

I almost told her no. Instead, I flicked a glance at security, to make sure they understood to keep an eye on her.

“Of course, baby—” I tilted my head. “Of course, Pretty.”

She shook her head and lightly chuckled. “Try again.”

Reluctantly, I said, “Of course… Coco .”

Satisfied, she grinned and turned her attention to the glass partition separating us from the grieving Mr. Webber.

Just three hours later, Antonias, Micah, and I were knee deep in trying to save three lives. The office was on lockdown while the entire staff pitched in to handle the critical patients.

Mr. Webber hadn’t taken his son’s death as well as it seemed. Revenge wasn’t beyond anyone, no matter what their walk of life was and no matter how quietly they’d lived their life.

As I left the same trauma room where I’d pronounced Mr. Weber’s son, I snatched my mask off and prepared to tell another family that their son was gone.

Today, four families suffered from the violence that plagued Pensacola’s streets.

As I descended the stairs, my eyes traced the outline of Pretty’s body lying in bed beneath the covers. She wasn’t asleep. Rather lying on her side watching another episode of her favorite drama. I thought after the day we’d had she’d be fast asleep. Peeking over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of me shirtless and freshly clean from a long ass shower. For too long, her eyes lingered. I moved to the couch, sat down, opened a jar of homemade moisturizer and began applying it all over my skin. Once I was done, I placed the jar aside, leaned back, got comfortable, and exhaled a deep breath.

Days like the one I had today used to be the only reason I wished to have a woman waiting at home. Having Pretty just feet away from me heightened my senses in a way that burned like hot lava through my blood cells. My nose flared as she switched positions to face me. Her eyes clung to my tattooed chest like she wanted to come over and place her hands on it. My dick jumped while thinking about having her hands on me in such a way. Our kisses were becoming more and more intense. I nearly bent her over the table this morning until duty called.

“‘Sup, baby?” I asked, snagging her attention, much like I’d done this morning. And just like this morning, she shook her head and said, “Nothing.”

My eyebrows slightly rose. “Nothing? Again?” Maybe the day had finally worn on her.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. My senses were so heightened that I heard her heartbeat and the inhale and exhale of her quick breaths. I knew her nipples were hard and her clit even harder. My throat clogged with desire, and my dick felt the same way. Pretty’s eyes dipped to my lap.

“Careful, my baby…”

Her eyes snapped back to mine.

“Tell me what’s on ya mind,” I gently coaxed.

“Tell me what’s on yours,” she countered breathlessly. That low spoken shit fueled me to lowly growl.

“You wanna know what’s on my mind?”

She nodded.

Eyeballing the jar of moisturizer, I twisted the top off and sat it next to me. With my wife’s round, shocked eyes on me, I stuck two fingers into the jar, wishing it was her pussy I was sticking my fingers into. Reaching inside my joggers, I fisted my hard ass dick and exposed his length and fullness to a stunned Pretty. Bringing some of the concoction from the jar, I smoothed it around my tip and used my fist to generously smooth it out.

Focusing my eyes on Pretty, whose eyes were on my dick, I said, “I’m thinkin’ about how wet ya pussy is right now…”

Her legs shifted beneath the blanket, and her face flushed. My fist moved up and down my dick.

“I’m thinkin’ about how tight ya clit is…and how close you are to cummin’ all over my sheets.”

Her sharp inhale pleased me. Imagining her pussy wrapped around my dick had tingles dotting my skin. Her legs shifted again as if the friction of rubbing her thighs together was bringing her closer. If it was my tongue, I would’ve had her floating by now. My fist moved quicker. Inside my chest, my heartbeat skyrocketed as I felt my nut rising. My breathing became choppy. This shit was almost over.

“Shit… I’m thinkin’ about suckin’ every fuckin’ drop from ya pussy,” I groaned. “I know that muhfucka tastes good as fuck.” My head fell back, and my eyes closed as I felt my shit close. “I’m thinkin’ about how fuckin’ deep I’ma be when I nut in you.”

“Adir…”

Her voice was low, choppy, and filled with lust. It was too much. I stopped breathing, too afraid that I’d miss every ounce of pleasure I felt in this moment. Knowing her eyes were glued to me tipped the fucking scale.

“Fuck!” Cum spewed out everywhere. Pent-up frustration over these last weeks had finally come to this. And all I’d done was sit here and think about my wife.

Inside the conference room, those who handled the family’s day-to-day operations sat around the large conference room table. Standing at the head of the table, Noa pointed to the screen hanging from the ceiling.

“The last of our product has been moved,” he stated. “It was a confidential purchase.”

“Confidential?” Uncle Duval questioned. “Since when we allowed muhfuckas to purchase from us without their being any proof of it.”

“He didn’t say there was no proof. He said it’s confidential,” Alli stated.

“So, since when we started making shit confidential? We’ve all been in this together, and now shit is switching up.” Clearly that bothered Uncle Duval. He and DJ were once over our drug empire until I pulled the plug on it four years ago. Slowly, I’d been offsetting product. Since they no longer operated the drug warehouses, I moved them into other roles within the family. Unc was now in charge of security operations.

“The buyer in this case wishes to remain confidential for reasons that I was willing to grant them.” My comment left no room for further discussion on the matter. Unc shook his head and glanced at his older brother as if my father would object to anything I said or did.

“Aside from the product being offloaded, stocks in Bell Oil, Inc. have continued to rise. Despite the state of the economy, we’re holding strong, and we plan to keep it that way,” Noa informed us.

“What we really need to be discussing is what we plan to do about all the chaos that’s happening in Pensacola. The OGs are surely rolling in their graves for how we’re letting the city go to hell,” Unc added.

“The war going on in Pensacola isn’t our concern. As long as it doesn’t come to our doorstep, we hold our line.”

The men around the table were quiet a minute until Unc said, “If you don’t do something, the war will eventually spill over to Niceville Shores. Then, what?”

There was in fact a war going on. It wasn’t just one crew against another. Crews big and small were fighting for supremacy in an economy that was leaving many buyers strapped. Pensacola had a few powerful families who remained just as silent as we were.

“If you ask me, I agree with Adir. Holding our line is best. The streets can’t expect him to always come to the rescue. Muhfuckas gotta learn to sort that shit out amongst themselves.”

“Agreed.”

“I agree.”

“So, do I.”

Outnumbered, Unc leaned back in his chair and shook his head. Regardless of how he felt, I knew what the fuck I was doing. No one was going to force me to do shit. Not even if it meant calming the fires spreading throughout the city.

“One last thing,” I stated. “Humble will soon be moving into a role within the family.”

“What role is that?” DJ questioned.

“He’ll be shadowing you.” That was all I said for now.

“Aight, cool,” he replied.

Ten minutes later, I called the meeting to a close. I was tired as hell and ready to call it a night. I walked into the room wanting to climb under Pretty. Instead, I went to the couch and plopped down. Of course, Pretty was wide awake, watching me closely.

“Everything’s good,” I assured her.

“Okay,” she whispered. Seconds later, she laid her head on the mound of pillows, pulled the covers up to her mouth and closed her eyes. Leaning over, I turned out both lamps and called it a night myself.