Stone and the Gangster's Girls

OK, quite a lengthy one with a little mix I hope you enjoy. Stone is a bodyguard -- ex-military who heads a small team responsible for close protection of Dave Devine. Dave Devine is a gangster, a king of the underworld with a wife and daughter who are both very sexy and very kinky.

I did think about submitting the chapters individually, but opted instead to lump all 25000 words together in one hit (no pun intended ... gangster ... hit ... geddit?) *ahem* Right, well, yes, I decided to put the piece up in Novels and Novellas, just for the grin.

As I said, I hope you enjoy it. As usual I ask for feedback. PM, email or public comments, whatever your choice. If you want a response back from me, then email is best.

Again -- as usual -- there are very likely to be errors and typos in the text. I've been over the piece a few times but the little buggers still manage to get past me. Please forgive any fuck-ups, and I hope any that remain don't detract too much from the whole.

GA -- Langkawi, Malaysia -- 16th of December 2012.

One -- The Divine Amy

*

The divine Amy, as Tommo had christened her, a play on her real name of Amy Devine, strolled nonchalantly into the gym just as the boys and I finished a gruelling round of circuits. She knew damn well I didn't want her there, but that was Amy all over, a spoilt rich girl who just had to break rules.

Ralph, the team's physical training instructor wound up the post-torture cool down-session. "OK, Stone?" he said.

"Thanks," Ralph, I replied, keeping Amy within the limits of my peripheral vision. "Good session, you evil bastard," I added, knowing Ralph would take the remark as a compliment.

He grinned. "It's 'cause you're getting old and past it, Stone. Let's face it, when you first joined up a Centurion was a rank, not a tank."

The banter could have gone on but I was keen to get the boys into the showers and away from the distraction of Amy. We may have all served in the military at one time, the common denominator that qualified us to work for Amy's father as his close protection team, and even though I was their immediate boss, the discipline within our team wasn't as rigid as it would have been if we were still serving in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. Out in the civilian sector, in the niche we now occupied, the lads didn't have the Damoclean sword of military law hanging over their heads, and as professional as they might be, each of them had a mind and a strong will of his own, which meant that sometimes they could be a handful. And Amy might prove too much of a temptation to resist.

That could lead to a drama, a big fucking problem for the bloke who dallied with Dave Devine's daughter.

"Yeah, yeah, Ralph," I said, holding up a hand to stem any more cheek from the PTI. "Enough of the bollocks. We've got a lot to do today, so let's get on with it, eh."

The years of professionalism kicked in immediately as the whole team, including Ralph the PTI, responded with respectful mumbles of, "OK, Boss," and "No worries, Stone." They recognised where the line was as far as taking the piss went.

The lads, tee-shirts stained dark with sweat after the vicious workout overseen by Ralph, virtually bounced out of the gymnasium, all pumped up on a high after their exertions. I noticed a couple of sideways glances at Amy as the boys moved past her. And didn't she just play up to them too, the saucy little bitch.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. If I didn't keep a close eye on the team that girl would most assuredly lead to a problem for me. Not that I knew it at the time of course, but the girl was going to cause me anxiety sooner than I anticipated.

Just like her mother.

"Hello, Stone," the nineteen-year-old murmured, and I saw the devilment of her flash in her green eyes as their unsettling gaze fixed upon me. Amy wore that disconcerting smirk she appeared to reserve just for me -- the one that lifted the corners of her pretty mouth in a way that suggested she knew a secret, something dirty and sordid, about me.

"Amy," I responded gruffly, probably a touch more gravel in my tone than necessary, but I found it embarrassing to be so ... intimidated by a girl less than half my age. During my career in the British army -- first Airborne, then Special Forces -- I'd faced some demanding circumstances. Even now, as head of security for Dave Devine, probably the most dangerous gangster in the country, a Face with connection throughout the European underworld, nothing phased me like this girl's frank appraisal. "You know you're not supposed to come in here when we're training."

The cheeky mare just shrugged and gave an impatient flick at her long black hair with her fingers. "I like watching you, Stone," she said. "I like to see you all hot and sweaty."

I found myself uncharacteristically lost for words. The blokes, I could handle, I knew what made them tick and I understood their thought processes. The men in the team were easy to control, we had respect for each other and knew we could rely on one another when we got involved in any shit, but Amy was a wildcard, I couldn't handle her -- and she knew it. I was also more used to women my own age, women who'd been around a bit and who knew the score. It disconcerted me that Amy, as young as she was, came over all confident and aware of her own sex appeal as a woman twice her age. I'd been married once, briefly, to a woman who'd run off with a pub landlord in Hereford, and I could understand my erstwhile spouse's reasons for buggering off -- the months I'd be away, the demands of the job -- but I couldn't figure this girl out at all.

My face reddened as I gaped at Amy for a few seconds. Then, finally finding both my wits and my voice, I responded with, "You still shouldn't be in here. It puts the lads off. They're difficult enough to handle as it is without you giving them ideas." I pointedly looked at Amy's tight tee-shirt and miniscule, buttock-hugging shorts. "Especially dressed like that," I added, wincing internally at the stuffy tone of my voice.

"I'm not interested in 'the lads'," Amy informed me. "I came in to see you, Stone." The girl craned her neck, her chin on her chest as she pretended to critically examine the front of her own body. She looked up at me again, that damned smirk twitching. "And what's the matter with the way I'm dressed? Don't you like it?"

The thing is, I did like it. Which man wouldn't? Amy's a slim girl with high, tight tits, all rounded and compressed inside her tee-shirt. Her arse is a nicely defined bubble-butt, which at that time was packed into a pair of brief shorts, shorts so tight that the pronounced VW Beetle's bonnet outline of her pudendum was clearly visible. All this physical appeal, coupled with the dark promise of carnal delight in her knowing eyes and impish prettiness, made my cock stir with interest. But she was Dave Devine's daughter, and I was already on thin ice.

"Whether I like it or not is neither here nor there, Amy, I've got a job to do, one that your dad pays me a good salary for, and I don't want you ..." I pointed a finger at her chest in emphasis "... distracting the blokes. Get it? I don't want you in here anymore."

"My dad owns this gym," the girl replied petulantly, pouting like the spoilt bitch she was. I actually expected her to stamp a princess foot in indignation. "So if I want to come in here, Stone, I fucking well will," Amy finished as her eyes flashed green venom.

Granted, Dave Devine did own everything in the complex, the gym, the office block, the cars, but it didn't give Amy the right to stroll over from the big house behind the wall whenever she felt like it.

"But the gym is for me and the boys during working hours," I reminded the stroppy cow. "That means I'm the boss right now." Amy had started to rile me by then and my swelling anger displaced my anxiety at her proximity.

Then, before I realised it, the girl altered completely. The bubbling ire I'd seen in her eyes evaporated, leaving her suddenly apologetic and contrite. Her eyes even glistened with tears.

"I'm sorry, Stone," she mumbled. "I just ... like you a lot. You look after my dad; you're in charge of those men. They look up to you, do whatever you tell them to, and," she continued with ego-massaging, wide-eyed candour, "I know you've all been soldiers, real soldiers who've done some really brave things ..." Amy sighed and stared at me with those big eyes. I swear her chest heaved with emotion, an action which caused her tight boobs to swell in that clinging tee-shirt.

"It was a job, Amy. We were trained well and behaved like professionals. We had good people supporting us," I added, downplaying all that Rambo or Andy-fucking-McNab bollocks. "That's all. And now I work for your dad. It's just the same. We train well and do the job efficiently. There's no mystique attached."

"But, Stone ..." Amy breathed.

The way she spoke those two words to me was so sexy, all vulnerable and big-eyed and contrite. I almost ... almost that is, reached for her. I recognised that Amy's contrition was an act, and that for me to touch her would be a mistake. If I let myself get drawn in it would only lead down one road. Playing with a gorgeous, perfectly ripe nineteen-year-old was tempting, but I enough problems at that time as it was. There was a lot of work stuff going on and ... well, another issue involving Amy's mother, so I didn't need to add to my list of woes by encouraging the boss's daughter.

I wanted to bring Amy down gently, let her know how it stood between us, but I also wanted it done in a way that wouldn't have her running to her father with some cock-and-bull story about me.

"But, Stone," Amy persisted all breathless and wide-eyed. She obviously thought I'd fall for the act. "You must be so brave to face the danger like that?"

I shrugged, still downplaying the soldier bit. "It's mostly boring, Amy. Especially now, working for your dad. We're more a deterrent to anyone who might want to ... hurt your father. Hopefully our reputation dissuades anyone from trying anything stupid."

"How come you joined the army?" Amy asked. "You and Daddy were friends on the estate when you were kids, weren't you? Why didn't you go into business like my father?"

It was true; I'd grown up on the same shitty estate as Dave Devine. We'd mucked around together as boys until Dave had taken up with the Griffin brothers, the three lunatics who controlled the drugs that flowed onto the estate. I'd always had my eye on an out from the concrete eyesore of the high-rise blocks, and so had Dave, but whereas Dave embraced the potential riches available from the criminal underworld, I strolled in the recruiting office and got out of that no-hopers' den of misery by way of a rail warrant from Waterloo to Aldershot.

By the time I was on my third tour in Northern Ireland, trudging around Belfast in the pissing rain, with the single chevron on my arm of a Lance Corporal, Dave had removed the Griffin brothers and set himself up as king dick of the estate. From there he reached out and took over the rest of the manor before making his big move to control the whole of the smoke. When I'd been on the ground with the laser, guiding smart bombs dropped by Tornado fighter aircraft onto targets in Saddam's empire, Dave counted his personal fortune in millions of pounds sterling.

"I joined up to escape the shitty estate, Amy. That was my way out. Your dad ... well, he got out of there his own way, but I couldn't have hacked the jail time," I quipped.

"But my father's never been to prison," the girl put in. "He might have bent a few laws when he first started out, but he's past all that now. Now he's a businessman."

I could have laughed. Bent a few laws? Understatement of the century, a bit like saying Adolf Hitler was a bit of a naughty boy. But what Amy had said had a ring of truth to it, Dave Devine could justify his lavish lifestyle and personal fortune to the tax man purely from his legitimate business interests -- in fact, he paid me and the boys from a clean source of funds. I'd insisted, for I really couldn't do the time in stir, it'd drive me insane being banged up in prison. However, despite appearing to be Mr Clean these days, Dave still ruled the seedier businesses: the girls, the clubs, the coke, the dodgy DVDs. Nobody could blag so much as a packet of chewing gum without express permission from Dave Devine, and if anyone so much as hinted that they had an eye on his business, they just disappeared, with perhaps a limbless and headless corpse showing up in the Thames estuary on occasion.

I already lived on the edge thanks to Amy's mother, so the girl, as gorgeous as she was, was most definitely a no-no. A complication I most certainly didn't need.

"I don't get involved in your father's business, Amy. I'm just the bodyguard -- me and the lads -- hired help." That was a true statement as well. The boys and I have nothing to do with Dave Devine's violent world. When, as it's alleged, he offs the opposition, he uses thugs of his own ilk. The lads and myself are capable of a killing, but we do it under rules of engagement -- which are pretty much that if anyone tries to harm Dave, or by extension, his family, then my team will fuck them up -- rather than torture some poor bastard before crushing them in the boot of some old wreck of a car in a scrap yard. I looked up at the big clock on the wall and said, "I've got to get on, Amy. There's a pile of paperwork on my desk for the Kenya job. I don't have time today ... So if you'll excuse me I have to shower and get on with my job."

I left the girl pouting and with her arms folded beneath her cute tits. I must have wasted fifteen minutes chatting pointlessly to the recalcitrant girl because by the time I got to the showers the boys had all gone. I took off my training shoes and peeled off my socks before I stripped out of my shorts and tee-shirt.

Under the shower I contemplated the complications already present in my life, especially the one huge problem uppermost in my mind, an issue so large that it kept me awake with worry at night. I also pondered on the issue of Amy. Why did she keep making a play for me? I'm old enough to be her father, for fuck's sake, what did she see in me? OK, granted, I've kept myself in shape. I'm no hulking lump of muscle, but what there is of me is tightly packed from endless sessions under the guidance of PTI Ralph. Physical fitness is a must in both my former and present occupations, and as the boss I can't let myself slide, I always have to set the example.

I tutted to myself, bemused by the Devine women.

But then, as I should have foreseen, Amy, tanned and delectable, with her high, tight tits and smooth vulva, wearing nothing but her trademark knowing smirk, appeared like a wraith out of the steam.

My cock thickened instantly at the sight of her.

"Amy," I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. "You've got to get out of here. If anyone comes in ..."

"My father never pays me any attention, Stone," The girl said as the shower spray hissed against the tiles. She took a few steps towards me.

I should have left immediately, just walked out of there and run to my office, but all I could do was stare at that girl as she slowly eased closer and closer.

"I love my father, Stone," Amy murmured, her voice barely audible above the rush of water. "But he doesn't care about me." She was close by then, so close my uplifted cock almost nudged her flat stomach.

"Uh," I grunted, eyes fastened on the glittering jewel in the girl's navel.

"I'd like it if you cared about me, Stone. I'd like it if you could be my daddy." Amy's intense stare brought my eyes from her belly button to hers. "You could be a really good daddy, Stone. You'd look after me and protect me, wouldn't you? I'd love it if you'd hold me tight and tell me everything was going to be all right. That nothing bad would ever happen to me because you'd look after me. Would you do that, Stone? Would you look after me?"

I swallowed heavily as desire for this perfect example of feminine beauty swelled my erection. My cock pulsed, stiff as iron with lust for Amy.

And then I gasped, knowing I was lost as Amy's fingers curled around my shaft.

"Will you be my daddy, Stone?"

My answer was a deep growl as my fingers gripped Amy's narrow waist. I pulled to me and kissed her mouth while her fingers caressed the length of me.

"Oh, Daddy," Amy gasped when, eventually, after a full minute of our tongues sliding and writhing the kiss broke. You do like me, don't you?" She squeezed my hard-on for emphasis. "You kissed me as though you like me, and your lovely cock is so hard ..." Amy grinned, her attitude coquettish. "I think your big dick likes me a lot," she simpered.

"Shit, Amy," I groaned. "You're so beautiful. So hot." I was lost in the heat of it. I wanted her to wank my cock until it spat hot, sticky fluid from the eye in its tip. I wanted to slide my tongue into her pink cunt and slurp at her essence. In my head I saw us, her on her hands and knees on the tiles, the water cascading over us as I knelt behind her and fucked into that tight body. Images appeared in my fantasy stream of Amy, her cheek bulging and distorted as she sucked the dome of my cock, her eyes wide and staring as she looked up at me with her long black hair plastered across her forehead and over her shoulders.

"So you've noticed me at last, Daddy. Can I be your princess? Will you look after me?"

"Yes," I grimaced. "Anything you want, Amy. You're my princess. I'll be your daddy." Ah, the things we men say when the blood rushes from the big head to the little one. Right then, with her fist moving up and down the length of me, I would have promised the girl anything. The urgency boiled within me. I had to come, I had to have that release or I'd explode.

Which, in a way, is what did happen; the semen burst out of me, squirts of viscous gloop that spattered against Amy's stomach, breasts and forearm. The girl, as I gasped and grunted and grimaced, kept on pumping at me until my cock finally oozed residual goo.

"Oh, Daddy," Amy squealed when the torrent of spunk eased. Water sluiced the stuff from Amy's body as, with our mouths locked in a hot kiss, I mauled at her little breasts and she fondled my undiminished cock. "Fuck me now, Daddy," the girl mewled, her voice breaking with excitement and desperation. "Put in into me and fuck me."

Amy turned and rested a forearm against the tiled wall. She thrust her hips back and offered me her rump. With her free hand, Amy splayed the cheeks of her heart-shaped arse and smirked back at me over one tanned shoulder.

I groaned at the sight of her. "Sweet fucking Jesus," I blasphemed when I saw the cerise core of her as the pressure of her fingers pulled her labia apart with sticky reluctance.

"I'm hot and wet, Daddy," Amy sighed, winking at me. "My pussy itches," she pouted. "Put that big cock inside me, Daddy. Fuck that nasty itch away."

I was on her in a second, guiding myself into her with one hand on my shaft while I squeezed one of her taut buttocks with the other.

Amy's head lolled forward as I slid into her. "Oh, fuck," I heard her mutter. "Oh yes. Oh fuck. That's so hard." The girl pressed both palms onto the wall and craned her neck to regard me with a glazed-eyed look of pure lust. She chewed on her bottom lip and mewled as she thrust her hips back at me. "Fast, Daddy," she squealed, her hips corkscrewing as she wriggled around knock-kneed on my dick. 'I'm so horny, Daddy. I'm going to come soon. I've been naughty today. I was playing with my pussy before I came to see you. I'm a bad girl, Daddy. Your little princess is so wicked." Amy grunted and screwed her eyes closed. She gasped and winced and looked away from me. I gripped her hips and, as she wanted me to, slammed into her hard and fast.