I should be disgusted by the throbbing sting on my ass and the leftover dampness now seeping into the crotch of my pants. It’s embarrassing. But I can’t stop the dirty flashbacks that make my pulse go wonky. Or put a halt to thoughts of a release that blew up my old world and spat me out in his.
Now my head is all over the place.
I don’t want to be his wife, and I definitely don’t want to have kids with him. Those are solid, concrete facts. Despite those beliefs, I’m still tingling in places I shouldn’t be, and when I watch André prowl toward the exit, all manly and muscular, an unbearable desire to fuck him charges through me.
I take a deep breath and collect my wits. Nothing good would come of parting my legs and giving in to his filthy, hot demands. I swallow hard and begin my walk of shame behind him, not sure whether I want to stuff my fingers in his thick, tousled hair or dry hump his leg.
If I’m going to figure out a way to get Mammy off Frankie’s radar and survive the Souza show, then maybe I should play along with his game.
18
ANDRÉ
“What the fuck happened to you?” Letterman and Reno bounce into my home office and take a seat on the couch.
“Next time you disappear, send a text, Dré. Withsicariostill breathing down our necks, we need to stay close,” Reno warns.
Next to Giovanni, Reno is one hell of a sharpshooter. Controlled, vigilant, and meticulous. Clearly, dragging my wife from Sky Hotel and riding my motorcycle back to the condo without an entourage has angered him. I wasn’t thinking clearly because all my focus was zeroed in on Sinéad and that hot-as-fuck encounter in the conference.
“Right, yeah. It was a dick move. I was preoccupied.”
“Where is the distraction?” Letterman asks as he lights a reefer and stands, crossing the room to be next to me. “Here. Looks like you need it.”
I’m standing behind my disorderly desk, a hand in my jeans pocket and the other tinkling an ice cube in my now empty glass. Miami stretches out before me for miles beyond the window.
I’ve stood in this same spot since arriving home a few hours ago. She didn’t say much after I’d punished her smooth ivory ass to the shade of corruption. Which tells me she got the message loud and clear.
Fuck, it had felt good. Every time I made those silky-smooth buttocks subtly tremor and when my handprint blazed across her flesh, my dick stiffened to titanium. Like metal fucking strong.
By the time I was done, I had nearly torn off the rest of her clothes to finally fuck my wife and enjoy the adrenaline that I crave in my bloodstream. Except she’s adamant it’ll never happen. I say it will—very soon.
I may enjoy spells of violence to keep order on the streets, but I draw the line at rape. There’s no joy to be had in a one-sided party. I get my thrills from hearing women beg and watching them fall apart under my control. Just like she did earlier, and it was the highest I’ve soared in a long time. Which makes me believe fucking the woman could quite possibly be the ultimate rush to date.
“She’s upstairs trying on new clothes.” I set my glass down and take the reefer he’s offering me. “I need you to run a full background check on the new guy working in Luna. Janel will give you his details.”
“No worries.” Letterman unscrews the cap of my favorite whiskey and pours a healthy measure into the glass. “You don’t seem yourself, Dré. I think you need to fuck the woman and be done with it.”
“Not yet,” I say coolly, irritated that my dick is still aching and unsatisfied. “Her time will come.” I push off the glass, snatch the imported Irish whiskey from his hand, put the mouth to my lips, and take a long swig straight from the bottle. “I’m enjoying the game.” My playful wink earns a chuckle from him. “Waiting is new territory for me, which adds to the appeal. I’m not used to resistance.”
Letterman chuckles. “Resistance or marriage?”
“Both. But holding out for sex, that’s killing me,” I confirm. “My fucking balls are swollen, and my concentration is shot. Worse than usual,” I point out.
“Why haven’t you charmed her yet?” Reno asks with a smirk on his clean-shaven face. “It’s not like you.”
“She’s not like the women we usually encounter,” I offer. “Never has been.”
“You mean she has better taste in men?” Letterman takes the bottle off me and drinks.
I give him the middle finger. “Nah,cabron, she’s into me. I know it and she fucking knows it.”
“And that's why you’re down here with us and she’s upstairs, probably naked…”
I run a hand through my hair and growl, the recollection of her ass, all red and fiery, claims pole position in my thoughts.
“I bet she’s got a killer body under those tight leather pants.” Letterman whistles.
My hackles rise. “You know she’s my wife, right? How about a little less looking and lot more fucking respect?”
