Once she settles down, Mikey and I take away her wine bottle, and tuck her into bed. “Nap for a few. I promise I’ll have Suds talk to him.”
Shit. I feel so badly for her. She’s off her rocker over Wheels but like my husband, he’s damaged from his time deployed overseas. I’m not sure he’s capable of the kind of attention she’s looking for.
Someone pounds on the front door and after waiting for the longest time, I lean over the railing. “Yo, you deaf?”
Joey exits his kitchen, looks up, and shouts, “What? Your leg broke?”
“Just open the door, Joey. Jeesh.” I swear he does this shit to piss me off.
Grumbling under his breath about entitled females, he does as I ask and a second later my very first client ducks his head under the doorframe.
After shooting the bane of my existence a dirty look, I wave at the hitman. “Hey Frankie. C’mon up.”
“T’anks.” The man nods at my cousin, trudges up the steps, and meets me in Rose’s kitchen.
After a quick cheek to cheek, we walk across the middle apartment and up the attic stairs to mine. Chloe, lazing on top of the refrigerator, stretches, then jumps down and nudges his ankles until he scratches her head.
“I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble.”
“Nope. All good.” I open the closet and as I hand him his pet carrier, he grabs my wrist. “Watch your six. Your new client is not who he says he is.”
Even though I’m dying to ask how he knows, it’s probably best not to ask questions. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem.” He packs up his cat and once he’s gone, I dig deeper into Dashiell Montclair’s past.
On the surface, he appears to be who he says, a boring insurance investigator based out of Akron, Ohio. According to his social media accounts, he’s straight and single.
Do I tell my husband about Frankie’s concern? If so, Sebastian will insist I cancel my flight and book him in my stead. Not wanting to decide, I finish up my accounting, feed Mikey and the cat, put them to bed, and click on the TV.
At some point I must’ve fallen asleep because I’m woke by someone nibbling my ear. “Shh, babe, this may be it.”
Oh my f’n Lord! We’re going to have sex!I grab him behind the neck, pull him to my mouth, and as his tongue tangles with mine, he reaches behind my back.
Seconds later, my breasts escape the confines of my bra. Moaning softly, his calloused hands cup my flesh and as he squeezes, he whispers his command. “Bedroom. Now.”
Throwing a salute, I race down the hall, and bang my little toe on the door frame. Fuck, fuck fuck. It hurts like hell, but no way am I going to shout. I jump up and down while biting my lower lip and bound to the bed on one foot to inspect the damage.
“Poor baby.” Suds pulls off my sock, kisses my injured digit, then yanks down my pant legs as I lift my ass off the mattress.
Half-naked, I sit up and bend forward to unbuckle his belt. Fully unclothed in seconds, we jump under the covers and slide our hands all over each other’s bodies.
“Oh my God, you feel so damn good.” Both hands on my butt cheeks, he tugs me close.
I raise my arms over my head. My breasts ache for him and as my tips rub against his skin, he captures a nipple between his teeth. His careful attention brings our simmer to a boil and when I squirm and widen my thighs, he slides between them and locks my wrists over my head.
Resting on his forearms, he lowers his mouth to mine, and his tongue demands entrance. I open and he thrusts in and out, emulating what we both need. As I circle his hard length, the penis-weenis pills come to mind and I snicker.
There is no way that package was for him. “You think my cock is funny?”
“Explain later.” I slide my hand up and down faster.
“Damn, sugar.” He slips his finger between my legs and caresses my wet button until all my muscles contract at once.
“Ah, ah…” My eyes close. Holy shit, I’m about to come.
He swallows my scream as I come, plunges inside my tight core, and grinds little circles into my pelvis until I start to climb again.
Feeling my inner body clench, he quickens his pace and I lock my ankles at his thighs while digging my nails into his back. The faster he goes, the harder I arch up, and stars appear behind my closed lids.
