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His dick twitched inside of me at my comment, and I clenched down on him in response, causing him to growl.
“I can’t help it,” I informed him.
He laughed, and his dick continued to bounce inside of me.
Soon, though, that led to his dick not going soft anymore, but the exact opposite.
It filled up again, and this time he started to rock slowly inside of me.
My hands, which had been clenching his forearms, now traveled down to where we were connected, and I felt our combined releases as he propelled his dick forward and backward inside of me.
This time our lovemaking was much slower. It took him a long time to go again, but I wasn’t complaining.
Not one damn bit.Chapter 14I’m trying to be awesome today, but I’m exhausted from being so awesome yesterday.
-Coffee Cup
Nico
I woke to total quiet.
I hadn’t done that in three days, but today was the first day that I’d woken without Georgia’s warm, soft body pressed up against me in some way.
Her against my side. Her against my front. Me tucked around her small body, smelling her hair.
Georgia’s favorite, however, was when she got to be the ‘big spoon,’ as she liked to call it.
Apparently, she liked feeling the heat of my back as she slept. Something about my back being like a space heater or some shit.
Whatever. If she liked it, I’d do it. No questions. Even if she was weird.
I loved her weird, though.
I loved every single thing about her.
I certainly wouldn’t have made it through the funeral the day before without her.
I’m not one to show emotions, but when the young widow had requested me to be a pall bearer, I’d nearly broken down and cried.
I’d done the task without even questioning her request, happy to be of some use to her.
That wasn’t to say it hadn’t torn me up inside.
In fact, it’d been damn near impossible.
Then I’d come home and taken a nap, and promptly had a dream about everything and everyone I cared about being killed.
What had helped me was Georgia being at my side, holding me when I’d woken up gasping and unable to breathe.
Getting up, I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and then went through my usual grooming routine which consisted of pulling out my clippers and sticking the shortest guard onto the trimmer. Then I ran the clippers over my hair.
It was a habit, keeping my hair shorn as short as possible without being bald.
A habit that I kept once I entered the workforce.
Having hair just gave the bad guys an extra handhold. And in my case, I could use all the help I could get.
However, since I didn’t have to work today, or any fucking day in the near future, I didn’t bother with shaving.
I already had way more than a five o’clock shadow. In fact it was more like a four day growth, but I had no incentive to shave it. Especially since Georgia had told me just last night how good my beard felt against her nipples. Maybe I’d grow a beard again.
I’d just pulled on some pants over my boxers and semi-hard erection, because I was a fucking nut and could get hard over just about anything Georgia related, when the knock came at the door.
I decided against a shirt, but instead chose to pick my sidearm and the holster I kept next to the bed.
I clipped it in place at the small of my back and walked to the front room.
My feet felt gritty underneath my feet, reminding me of all the traffic from my friends and family I’d had over the past three days.
It was time to sweep and then call Candice, my cleaning lady.
I didn’t clean. Nor did I want to clean.
Candice, though, was excellent at it and she had five kids to support.
One of which was the baby of the mother I’d shot dead.
I knew she was perfect for the job the moment I realized that the small infant didn’t have any family.
Candice was a sweet woman. Her and her husband were unable to have children of their own since the husband was shot during the war in Iraq.
He’d lost all feeling from his belly button down, along with it the ability for him to have kids.
Candice had been a trooper, though, staying with him through thick and thin.
She was a receptionist at a local law firm in town while her husband, Guy, did woodworking at home.
I actually owned quite a few of his pieces since he specialized in the rustic look that I’d fallen in love with when I’d started remodeling my parent’s house.
Candice started cleaning my house one day when she’d come over because one of my horses had broken through the fence on her side of the property. After I’d retrieved my elusive horse, we’d gotten to talking and the rest was, as you could say, history.
I made it to the door and checked out the peephole, gut clenching at whom I saw on the other side.
Special Agent Nathan Lawrence.
I’d met Lawrence when he told us about the woman I’d shot.
Special Agent Lawrence was the man in charge of the case that involved Anita and her father.
He’d been trying to obtain more information on Anita’s father, who’d been imprisoned for laundering money. They suspected that it was for the Russian Mafia, but hadn’t been able to prove it. So they’d sent an agent to ‘gather information.’ That agent being Reese’s ex-boyfriend, who’d also died the same day Luke was shot.
The entire operation had been royally fucked up, and it didn’t bode well to have the man in charge of the entire op standing on my doorstep.
Fuck.***Georgia
“Hi, Mr. Sergei. How are you doing today?” I asked, offering my hand to the tall blonde man.
He smiled slightly at me. His wife didn’t offer much more as I sat down in my office chair.
“We’re doing well, thank you,” Sergei said with a slight Russian hint to his accent.
I smiled, feeling like he was judging me.
His eyes took in my attire and my office with a haughty air, and I hated him instantly.
