So badly.
Goosebumps litter my skin as I recall the gentle caress of his rough hands on my skin. His hot mouth sucking on my puckered nipple as he teases my clit with his fingers.
My body remembers what it feels like to be held by him. Dominated by him. Even when my mind wants to erase the memories, they hold on tight like a desperate man on a sinking ship. We are explosive together. Two broken halves of the same coin that don’t quite fit back together the way we had before.
“Trucks are coming your way.”
Shit. Now is not the time to be getting sentimental about the past.
Or turned on by it.
The three of us tense, holding our breath in anticipation as the two trucks roll by us toward the gate. Vas’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as he watches the security feed from the small display they’ve rigged over the radio.
None of us utter a word as we watch Jake smile at them, his body relaxed and at ease as he checks the driver’s credentials in the first truck. Then the second. This only works if they don’t suspect him. It’s a risky move, replacing the guard at the gate with one of our own. But it’s necessary. One of Christian’s men could have seen us sitting in the shadows or recognized any one of the men we’ve used to replace the guards.
It’s lucky for us that Christian uses a private security firm to roam the port and not Dante’s men. It would require a whole new strategy. One that would have been riskier. I prep Jake on how to act. What to say. He’s the perfect fit with his coal blackhair. We add caramel contacts to make him look more Italian, because green eyes are a dead giveaway, and make him watch a few horrible Italian movies to help him with the accent.
Not the best plan, but it looks like it’s working, and that’s what matters.
A few moments later, Jake waves the two trucks through the gate, and we’re all set.
“We’re a go,” Jake whispers through the radio.
“Location thirty-six Alpha,” Mark’s voice crackles. “Twelve north, four east, five north, and eight west. Identification codes, 27-43-45 and 27-43-46.”
Well, that is confusing as fuck.
“Let’s move,” Matthias orders as he gets out of the SUV.
Taking a calming breath, I move to do the same, only to find him blocking my path as I go to climb out.
“You gonna move?” I ask.
“You stay between me and Vas,” he whispers dangerously. “If anyone starts shooting, you fucking duck and hide.”
“I can handle myself, Matthias.” I attempt to push past him, but his large, calloused hand on my throat stops me. My pussy clenches at the familiar action.
Hussy.
“I mean it, Ava.” His lip curls up on one side.
“This isn’t how it works, Matthias. You made your choice, husband. Showed your cards.” I lean forward against his hand, the pressure on my neck sending delicious tingles through my body, and whisper in his ear. “You don’t control me anymore.”
Before he can see what is happening, I grab the hand that holds my throat and twist before applying added pressure to his elbow and forcing it in the opposite direction. The large Russian stumbles back, eyes wide, pupils dilated as he takes me in.
He should have seen the joint lock coming, but like most men I know, he underestimates me.
Now he can clearly see who he is dealing with.
fifteen
She fucking joint locked me.
Discreetly, I shake out my wrist, wanting nothing more than to bend her over my knee and wipe that smirk off her face with a few well-placed spanks. The image of her bent over my lap with her pants around her knees as I lie into her bare ass has me adjusting my cock in my jeans before I slam the door shut to the SUV and follow after her.
Blyad.
Kavanaugh wasn’t bluffing when he gloated that his boys have been teaching her self-defense. It isn’t a move that would have worked on me normally, but I was distracted and she timed it perfectly.
