Page 63 of Venomous Games

“Having a milkshake.”

“I wonder how eager you’d be to suck my cock if I dipped it in a milkshake.”

She starts to choke, and I can hear someone ask if she’s okay. Once she can speak again, she says, “I’m already eager. No need to add milk to the mix.” She pauses, then tells me, “Victor is at your house.”

“Our house,” I remind her. “Your shoes are currently being delivered. Do you want me to instruct the movers to put them up or would you prefer to do it?”

“They can do it. I hate unpacking,” she says.

“I’ll have them do it all, then. And, Dynamite?”

“Yes?”

“Be a good girl today, and try not to kill anyone.”

“I can’t promise that,” she says, and I can’t help the smile that pulls on my lips at her response.

My sweet, crazy little assassin.

THIRTY-FIVE

MAVEN

Believe it or not, I choose to go to his place instead of mine. And when I step through the front door, I see boxes of my things stacked in the entryway. I make a beeline for my shoe room, and I sigh when I see all my heels lining the shelves in perfect precision.

“Do you like it?” I jump at the sound of a voice coming from behind me. When I turn, Boston is standing there, dressed as if he just finished work. His gun is still holstered at his hip, and his badge is attached to his belt.

“I do. It’s even prettier than I imagined.”

“And there’s still room for more,” he says, casually leaning against the wall. I eat up the sight of him.

“Did you bring me a strawberry milkshake so I can dip your cock in it and taste it?” Someone coughs from just outside the door, and I peer out to see Victor walking away. “Sorry, Victor!” I call out after him.

He waves his hand without looking back.

“I didn’t, but I can arrange one for later. I have to go out again. Will you be okay?”

I arch a brow. “I’ve lived most of my life by myself. I’m sure one night without my husband won’t kill me.” I laugh.

Boston leans down, and his lips land on mine, stealing my breath away. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I open to give him access. His arm slides around my waist, pulling me closer.

I break the kiss, panting for breath. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?” I tease, waggling both of my brows. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

He shuts me up with another quick kiss before resting his forehead against mine and murmuring, “Behave.” Then he pats my ass and leaves the room.

“What if I make a mess everywhere? Will you kick me out?” I yell down the hall.

“No.”

“I’m messy,” I warn him.

“I know,” he replies light-heartedly as he reaches the door. Opening it, he looks back at me, and says, “Make all the mess you want.” Then he walks out, shutting the door behind him.

I go into the living room, connect my phone to the television, pull up my playlist, and blast my music as loud as possible. I could never do this at my apartment because I had neighbors who complained, but Boston’s neighbors aren’t as close, so that’s a bonus.

As I dance around the house and begin to unpack a few things, I realize that I don’t feel uneasy. I actually have a little bit of hope. And I haven’t had hope for a long time.

I manage to get through three boxes, then realize almost four hours have passed, and my playlist has repeated several times. But I don’t care because I love every beat of the music. When I finally check my phone, I don’t see any missed calls from Boston, but I do see a camera notification from five minutes ago. I’m a little confused at first because, for one, I haven’t really investigated his security system to know the inner workings of it, and I also don’t know where many of the cameras are positioned.