“I’m the grand fucking prize, baby.” He kisses me, nipping at my lip. “Seriously, you’re going to drive yourself insane reading that thing.”
I study the journal, frowning to myself. I brush my hand down his thigh absently, happy to touch him, to feel his warmth. “She gave it to me for a reason.”
“She was unloading her own guilt. I say burn the damn books.”
“What would that do for me?”
“Fire’s cleansing.”
“It also makes a mess. I don’t know. I should read them. There’s some interesting stuff in there.”
“Like what?”
“He kept notes on everyone. Here, listen to this—“ I grab the ledger again and flip to a page near the front. I read it with a goofy, over-the-top Russian accent. “Boris the Butcher, fat man, likes crosswords, smells like onions, good with knife, scar on left cheek from drunken fight, untrustworthy, minor cheat, reliable for killing, keep away from gambling and drink until after job is done, pay cheap.There are like fifty more entries like that one.”
“God, can you imagine being a guy called Boris the Butcher? What a name.”
“I’m serious. This stuff is valuable.”
“I believe you. I’m worried.” He takes the journal and places it on the other side of him. When I reach for it, he grabs my wrist and pulls my face up, meeting my mouth with his. “You need a break.”
“Yeah? And how do you propose I do that?”
“I’ve got ideas.”
“You always have ideas, Gabe. They’re never good.”
“They’re neverclean, you mean, but they’re always fantastic.”
“How did I get stuck with a husband with such a dirty mind and a voracious appetite?”
“Same way I got stuck with a virginal wife who’s really a filthy slut under all her pretend piety.”
I touch his cheek. “Are you trying to sweet talk me?”
“Not even remotely.” His kiss is deeper this time. There’s something about the way he touches me that always pulls me back from the edge. No matter how bleak my mind gets, Gabe’s there, offering a hand, a tongue, a few fingers, and a very nice dick.
I succumb to his advances like always.
He pulls me into his lap right there, hands moving along my body. His palms cup my breasts, lifting up my shirt. I squirm, tugging it back down, but he pulls my hair roughly and shoves my top up again. “This wasn’t a negotiation,” he says against my mouth, tongue flicking inside. “It’s a hostile takeover.”
“We’re out… in the open… your men?—“
“My men know better than to watch their leader fuck his wife.”
“Gabe!”
“Stop complaining, love.” He tightens his grip on my hair. “Unless you’re looking for a punishment.”
I laugh, unable to help myself, as he shimmies off the wall and pushes me back against it. He sucks my nipples, licking my tits, nipping at my throat and neck, finding my mouth again. His thigh pushes between my legs, grazing up my slit and I grind down against him, whimpering into his hungry kiss. It feels good, the breeze on my bare skin, the sunlight on my chest. I unbuckle his belt and get a very satisfying groan from him when I reach down to stroke his dick over his boxer briefs.
“You know, for all you pretend like you’re shy and inexperienced, you do love cock,” he says, biting my lower lip.
“Love cock?” I grip him hard, biting him back. “That’s an understatement.”
He groans and a hand slips around my throat. I gasp as he tightens his grip, pushing me back against the old stone. It scratches my skin as he shoves his other hand into my panties, fingers curling to stroke my slit. “Soaking,” he mutters, eyes dark and hooded as I desperately roll my palm around his tip, smearing slick precum around his skin. “God, baby, you love it as much as I do.”
“No,” I say, arching into him, which really meansyes.
