A dark haze fell over my vision, and I bolted out of the VIP room to the stairs, slid down the rail, hopped off, knocked a tray of shooters from the server’s hands, and did not apologize as I shouldered my way through the sweaty masses, their bodies rubbing against mine like damn sandpaper. So many people, so few bullets in my Sig.
“Lana!” I roared over the music. “Get down right now.”
She couldn’t hear me. I pushed people out of my way to reach the bar and climb onto the chair. I caught her behind her thighs and tugged. She screamed as she fell and landed right across my shoulder, kicking. I held her legs, but not before I slapped her ass. When I turned, the entire dance floor stood there, watching. I marched for the exit, people parting before me as if I were breathing fire.
Outside, I found Lovac limp-running toward our limo, and in seconds, the limo appeared before me as if a fairy godmother had conjured it out of a pumpkin.
I didn’t wait for Lovac to get back out and walk around the car to open my door. I yanked that shit on my own and practically threw my future wife on the back seat. I sat down, huffed out a breath, and slammed the door closed. What was that thing Ludi did before a kill?
Mental yoga.
I mental yoga’d for a minute, even closed my eyes for maximum concentration. A soft hand landed on my thigh, then trailed up and grabbed my dick, squeezed. I snapped open my eyes and glared. That did nothing to scare Lana. She climbed onto my lap and took my face between her palms. “Do you know what really gets me excited?”
“Is it solitary confinement?”
She laughed while unsnapping my belt, pulling out, then fisting my dick. “Your aggression.”
I ripped her panties and grabbed her hips and lifted mine at the same time, plunging into her in a single thrust. She threw her head back and shuddered. “I love your dick.”
“My dick loves you back.” I checked the limo’s divider to see Lovac had put it up a while ago. This was good. As my gaze returned to her, she watched me. I leaned in and kissed her gently. “What?” I couldn’t read her, and it had just occurred to me I was no longer mad about her bar dancing or how many men saw her panties.
I couldn’t get mad at her even if I wanted to, because… Well, because I’d fallen for her, likely the second I watched her toes curl inside the think tank. I kissed her again, this time with a little more force so I could express the things I couldn’t say. She’d understand me, though. She always had. She knew before I did we were meant for each other. It was my thick head that couldn’t see it until today.
But better late than never. I fisted my hands at my sides and let her ride me, touching me everywhere. Her hands didn’t feellike sandpaper as they glided over my chest, then braced on my shoulders so she could fuck me and make us cum.
EPILOGUE
Five years later
Baseball bat in hand,I touched the center of a five-foot-tall custom-made Dr. Strange piñata dangling from a custom-made pole a bunch of clowns had erected in honor of my birthday. The pole could stay in my backyard, and we’d find other uses for it, ones I’d brainstorm with Ludi later.
“Dad,” Alexander, my boy, said. “Swing already.”
“Hold on, son. I’m overthinking it.”
“What’s there to think about?” Two kindergarten classes groaned, and a girl might have started crying. The kids had zero patience. None. They rushed me while I was trying to break the massive piñata in one swing. Also, why Dr. Strange?
Lana came out of the house rolling my dad in the wheelchair she parked on the other side of the pool, next to the adult bar and in front of my former think tank, now the playroom for son and his soon-to-arrive brother. The bar on this side served juice and no soft drinks, which, by the way, I disagreed with.
If my son wanted to drink soft drinks sometime in his life, there was nothing my wife could do about it. If the kid liked it,he’d drink it. I stood by that, but didn’t argue with how my wife was raising my boy. Pregnant and heavy with her second baby, she was doing fantastic, in my opinion. Best wife ever. Could do no wrong.
Small hands landed on the bat.
I looked down where my son strained, trying to wrestle the bat away from me. If it were anyone else, taking what’s mine would get them killed, but it was my son, so I let him have the honors of breaking the piñata on my birthday and eating all the candy I paid for, knowing I would have to beg him for a single little Tootsie Roll later.
And I didn’t stop there. I lifted the little man so he could reach the piñata’s center. Excited, having zero patience, Alex swung and whacked the side of my head and broke the piñata at the same time. The Kindergarten Army screamed and charged, trampling all over each other, filling those bags, pushing, grabbing, while their parents stood around.
Not all the parents, though. The normal ones stood around. Ludi got onto his hands and knees and snatched a candy before my kid could grab it and pocketed that shit.
Oh, it’s on, motherfucker.
I rounded the kids, then tackled him like a linebacker, and we wrestled like pros on the grass. Pinning him down, I dug the Tootsie Roll out of his pocket. I held it up like it was the Best Dad medal, gloating in my victory. Ludi pressed his hand over the swelling on my head where my kid had whacked me. Pain exploded in my skull, and I groaned, then sat up and held the hot bump.
“You a—” I couldn’t even fucking curse in front of all the preppy kids.
He sat next to me, wiping tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. At me, no doubt.
I unrolled my candy and popped it into my mouth. It stuck all over my teeth, and I chewed loudly as my head throbbed. At the bar, Lana climbed onto the barstool and leaned toward Neven, whispering something in his ear. He laughed. No doubt at me.
