“Jesus, Mir… You move fast.”
Roy glares at me as if I am a whore, but before Nero can pounce, I retaliate.
I wipe his sneer off his face with my fist.
Unlike Nero, Roy doesn’t remain standing. He crumbles to the ground, his hand shooting up to caress his cheek.
I could stay to relish his cowardly sobs, but I have an event to host and a business to run. Furthermore, my time is too precious to waste a single second on a man who has only ever loved himself.
“Once you’ve finished taking out the trash, I could use a hand, if you’re up to it?”
The tugging of Nero’s chunky lips announces he heard my comment as intended, not to mention the gravelly deliverance of his words when he reminds me that I will always come first in his eyes. “I’ll never be too busy for you, butterfly.”
With two clicks of Nero’s tattooed fingers, Eight arrives out of nowhere, hoists Roy off the ground, and then tosses him into the back of a blacked-out SUV as if he is a ragdoll.
Just as fast, Nero’s front heats my back and his breaths flutter my ear. “You just need to tell me where you need me the most, butterfly, and for how fucking long you want me.”
“Forever” is the first word out of my mouth. It is closely followed by “And everywhere.”
23
NERO
Six weeks later…
Miranda screams my name in a mangled roar when I flip her over without removing my cock from her tight, wet cunt. Her flexibility and the bounce of her sexy thighs as they skim over my sweat-drenched chest harden me further.
I love taking her hard and fast from behind, but this… having every inch of her glorious body displayed in front of me is the stuff dreams are made of.
I love the way her tits clap when I fuck her without remorse, and the jiggles of her ass when my balls slap against them for each brutal pound.
The sex has been relentless for the past six weeks, but I still can’t get enough.
Every time I have her, I become more addicted.
I’m a full-blown fucking addict.
Not even giving her the title of my wife subdued my wish to have this beautiful woman beneath me, on top of me, and covering every fucking inch of me.
Don’t act surprised by how fast I moved. I wasn’t lying when I said I would have given Miranda my last name the week we met if she weren’t already married.
As Rico Popov would say, “You don’t wait when an angel falls into your lap. You grant her every wish.”
You also shouldn’t misconstrue the strength of my butterfly. I haven’t forced Miranda to do anything against her wishes. I helped crack her cocoon and fan her wings, but the freedom that comes from a weightless flight is limitless.
She was a willing participant in our Vegas quickie wedding two weeks ago where my mother and Tempy were our witnesses, and she’s put as many hours into the event we will host for our family and friends in the spring to announce our marriage as Shiloh has.
My woman is as snowed under as I am, and I can’t wait to tick off every item on her wish list.
There are only two wishes I’ve yet to fulfill.
One I’m working on now.
Two will have to wait until I’ve finished fucking my wife to oblivion.
Nothing comes before Miranda’s pleasure.
Not a single fucking thing.
