“Agreed, but I contacted him yesterday and we had a discussion about trading information for logistics,” I say. “The Stepanov and Ivanov Bratva’s human trade is successful only because of their impressive network of ports, shipping facilities and railways. Locations that could be used for far better purposes and as such, of interest to a man like O’Rourke. He knows them all, every bolt hole, every hideaway, every place thosebratach salach, those dirty bastards can go.”
Cormac’s listening intently, eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s warfare tactics. We keep driving them in the direction of where they think they’re safest, divesting them of assets and their captives along the way.”
“I’m beginnin’ to think you’re not such an idiot after all,” Lachlan says, giving me a grin. He’s the youngest of us and has apparently forgotten the well-deserved thrashings of his youth. The smile I give him is filled with enough malice to make his grin fade.
The meeting is ending as I hear a knock on the door.
“Aye, come in.”
It’s Morana, wearing soft leggings and a big green sweater and looking delicious. Remembering the taste of her is making my chapped, overworked cock rise again.
“Miss Kevin and I were wondering if you’d like breakfast,” she says, pushing her sleeves up and looking anywhere but at me.
“Now lass, you’re not feeling shy?” I’m trying not to leer like the lecherous bastard I feel like right now.
“No!” she scoffs, still not looking at me.
“Why don’t you come over here and say that again,” I grin.
Now, she glares at me, trying to march over to my desk. Given the shape her pussy’s in, it’s more like aggressive limping. Hands on her hips, she gives me her best haughty expression. She looks magnificent. Like a Tsarina addressing an unruly mob.
“Are you having breakfast with me or not? I’m not here for you to perve over me,” she says.
“So, you’re not giving me a look that says you’ve taken an edible and I look like a chocolate cake?” My hands slide up her thighs, settling on her hips, my thumb moving over to stroke the soft leggings covering my favorite part of her. “How do you feel this morning? Still sore?”
Her hips shift slightly, making my cock harder and I smother a groan. “I’m fine,” she says quickly. She pauses. “Maybe a little sore.”
“Do you want me to-”
“No! No, husband, I do not want you to make me feel better because that’s how this happened in the first place!” She’s trying to pull away from me, but not really putting in any effort.
“Poor darlin’,” I soothe, “first, breakfast and then a long soak in the hot tub.”
“You have a hot tub?” she asks weakly. One hand is sliding into my hair and I know with just a few more circles of my thumb on this firm little clit…
“Aye,” I groan, releasing her. “Breakfast it is.”
Morana…
Cameron leaves after breakfast, wrapped in a bespoke suit that fits those broad shoulders of his like a caress. I’m feeling dangerously soft after last night, so when he pulls me in for a slightly lecherous kiss in front of Miss Kevin, I don’t fight him.
There’s some commotion outside as he’s trying to leave, and I hear Hamish apologetically explaining that two of the Range Rovers refused to start.
Cameron stares in fury at the deeply apologetic garage master, who looks terrified. He wouldn’t shoot the poor man just because the cars broke down, would he?
“The Range Rovers are brand new,” Miss Kevin’s impeccable skin shows a tiny frown for a microsecond before settling into her usual pleasant smile.
Growling, my husband gets into a vintage Porsche and roars off as the last working SUV with four guards follows him. Five minutes after the gates close, both stalled SUVs are running perfectly.
Leaving the puzzled garage master to commiserate with Miss Kevin, I go for a walk around the grounds. I’m sore enough that I’m worried I might not walk properly again if I can’t get my muscles loosened up. Cameron making me “feel better” last night led to another round of vigorous sex on the couch, so vigorous that the leg broke, sending us both to the floor. He was still inside me at the time and the scream I let out as I came will make me cringe for the rest of my life.
Natalia is tailing me, walking about twenty feet behind me. I would invite her to walk together, but I don’t think she likes me. The look she gave me the night of the Gala when I asked to train with her… polite impatience mixed with a little contempt. It stung.
There’s a huge oak tree in the back of the house with a swing, I gingerly seat myself with a wince, pushing myself back and forth with my feet.
“Rowr.”
I look around me, trying to find the source of the croaky, irritable complaint.
