She nods against my neck with a sultry purr, and since she’s close, I accelerate my tempo, her back bearing the brunt of my force, her clit reaping the benefit of the violent friction. It only takes a handful of untethered pumps until we’re both quaking and writhing and gasping. A zing shoots through my balls, up my spine, and out my limbs as the playlist blares in our ears.
Ghosts and clowns titter an eerie tune, and Tessa erupts in echoing screams of ecstasy.
“Kane is picking them up,” I tell Axel as Tessa and I roam toward the antique cars. I just filled him in on bringing her family here and on everything Liam shared.
“Okay. We’re all set for the Lockharts.” He stalls for a minute, and the click of a door resonates through the phone. “I’m going to have Bernard call Makarov and apologize for a problem with the room we had him booked in, so I can gauge what his plans are since he’s late. He won’t suspect anything with the staff reaching out. Hopefully, he’s decided to put his stay on hold.”
“Yeah,” I deadpan. “Because his investigation is over.”
“That may be, but Tessa has been claimed, and they won’t just come for you. They’ll take time to find an angle and rally support before they strike. I’ll get the rest of KORT involved.” A series of beeps peals in the background. “Hold on. Security is calling.” He’s muffled for a moment before I hear him on another phone. “Fighting or fucking?”
I can’t contain my chuckle. We have a passionate couple who frequent here. They tend to go at it in the most inconvenient places. Sometimes, it’s aggressive foreplay. Sometimes, it’s combat. It all looks the same.
“The Alvarados?” I ask when I can hear that he’s done.
“Of course,” he grumbles. “I need to retrieve them from blocking a fire exit because they aren’t responding to management and Ryker is dealing with something else.”
“Put a bug in Carlos’s ear while you’re at it,” I suggest, just as Tessa and I stroll up to a mint-condition 1959 Cadillac.
Carlos Alvarado is a Mafia don who handles all his delicate meetings with us. He and his wife spend an extensive amount of time here because he can do business, knowing she’s safe and not left behind. His connections are vast, and his loyalty to us is bottomless. We need to garner our own support, and that’s a good place to start.
“That’s smart,” he agrees. “On it. I’m going to be quietly petitioning several members to start.” He clears his throat, and I know he’s about to put his dad hat on. “We’ll get through this, Mad. You have the backing of an army, but … enjoy your night with Tessa.”
I hear everything he isn’t saying. Sometimes, these things get away from us. We can burn the world for the people we love, but more often than not, someone we care about gets scorched in the process. And between my family and hers, there are far too many players at risk.
“Thanks, Papa Axe.” I end the call, slide my phone into my pocket, and watch Tessa run her finger along the car as a catchy ’70s song pipes through the sound system.
Every year, for this festival, we pull out all our cars. Some are classics. Some are rare sports cars. Some are custom made. A few of our employees bring theirs too. It makes for an impressive show. And every year, when the rest of the staff is at events or dancing the night away, Tessa ends up here, quietly gawking at the cars and examining every angle. She sees them as art.
It’s why I picked her up in a different vehicle each day when I started bringing her to work. For a split second before she scowled at me, her eyes would light up with excitement. It was the highlight of my day. That and her first sip of her chai latte.
She slips her hand in mine as we wander toward a black 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 with double white stripes on the hood.
I tap the rear spoiler, or ducktail. “I love this car.”
She smooshes her lips to the side. “That must be why you never picked me up in this one.”
“It was actually,” I admit. “I knew you loved it too. I was saving it … for a date.”
“I didn’t know you thought about stuff like that.” She takes a deep breath, glancing between me and the car. “This is your big night. Let’s go back to the dance-off.”
“No, we’ll stay here. I used to spy on you when you were admiring these cars. This is the first time I’ve been able to watch you enjoy them freely.” I smirk when she blushes and quickly check the time on my phone. “We only have about forty or fifty minutes until your family arrives anyway.”
She shakes her head and squeezes my hand. “I don’t need to see them tonight. You live for this event. It only happens once a year. I want to be here with you.”
That’s huge for Tessa, but if I make it a big deal, my skittish girl will be overwhelmed, so I try to ignore my battering heart and focus on something else. And the answer comes.
The moon is nearly full, and as if Axel sent me a sign to cherish this time, “Dancing in the Moonlight” by King Harvest blares from the loudspeakers. It was one of my mom’s favorite songs, one she played for us a lot, growing up.
Without a second thought, I sweep Tessa up, remove her boots, kick my own shoes off, and climb on top of the Mustang’s hood while she shrieks and grouses.
“What the hell are you doing, Drac? This won’t support us. You’re a giant.”
I laugh and set her on her feet, atop the slightly elevated scoop. “This car is robust. It can hold a giant and his little demon. Dance with me.”
She quirks her head to the side. “Here? Why on the Mustang?”
“Because my mom told us that dancing makes everything better. This song and being on top of a car we both love—it feels like the making of a forever memory.”
