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Her head bobbed up and down on my shaft for some time, the sound of my ragged breathing and the suction of her lips the only noises in the limo. I held back as long as I could, wanting to prolong the pleasure. But in the end, all she had to do was run her hands over my balls to make me explode.
I cursed, grabbing her head and thrusting upward. I apologized, but I could not stop. I nearly lost consciousness as she kept sucking, pulling hard on my tip as I spilled myself deeply into her mouth.
She took her time, making sure she got every drop. I was trembling, oversensitive, dazed, and completely at her mercy. She cleaned me thoroughly with her tongue before tucking me back inside my pants and zipping them up.
It was a good thing she took control because I was incapable of doing more than staring at her with satisfied gratitude.
“My God, Frankie.”
She licked her lips and smiled at me, looking like the cat that ate the canary. A very, very pretty cat. My kitty cat. My dick lurched in my pants, rapidly filling with blood.
“I want you so fucking bad,” I said. Her eyes opened wide.
“Already?”
“Yes. But it will have to wait,” I said, glancing at my watch. “We’re almost there.”
It was early morning still. The sun had just started to rise. I had picked up my sleepy-eyed fiancée with a carafe of coffee, snacks, and a blanket. We had dozed for the first half hour of the trip before we got distracted by . . . other things.
Things like each other’s bodies and all the delightful things we could do to each other in the back of a limo, for example.
We stared over the cliff edge at the winding path leading to the sand. The sky was a combination of peach, gold, and lavender. I wrapped my arms around her, tucking my head into her neck and inhaling her scent.
“The beach is private?”
“Yes. It’s bordered by cliffs on either side. Completely impassible.”
“So . . . no guards.”
“No guards.”
“It’s like we’re real people,” she said, turning in my arms to face me with a sense of wonder.
“Let’s go inside. I want to finish what we started.”
She blushed and nodded.
“I just need to grab something from the car.”
I kissed her, lingering over her luscious lips.
“All right.”
I watched her dart back down the path to the front of the house, whistling as I followed her at a leisurely pace. We were going to relax for the entire weekend. We had the place to ourselves, with strict orders to our guys to keep their distance. I could chase my beautiful bride-to-be all over the damned house without worrying about prying eyes.
I could not fucking wait.
A sound broke the peace. A sound that sent a jolt of terror though me. The sound of a gun. Someone had fired a gun.
And it had come from the front of the house.
Shouts from my men. I didn’t hear her voice. I took off at a run. When I got to the driveway, I saw why I hadn’t heard her.
Francesca was lying on the gravel drive, not moving. Tiny was bent over her. He looked up and saw me.
“She’s breathing. She’s not dead,” he said quickly, but it did nothing to calm me. “I’m checking for a wound.”
But I barely heard him. My Francesca was on the ground. Shot. She looked dead.
“Get out of my way!”
I checked her throat. I felt her pulse. It was faint, but there. I saw the shallow movement of her chest. My ears were ringing, but eventually, I heard Tiny’s voice through the terror inside me.
“She’s not dead. I don’t think she got hit.”
I felt her body for a wound. Gently. No blood. No sign of entry. I lifted her carefully. She was utterly limp.
“What in God’s name is going on?”
“I’m calling the hospital, letting them know we are coming.”
I nodded absently, carrying Francesca to the car. I held her tightly, whispering to her as Tiny drove like the devil to the closest hospital. It was almost twenty minutes away.
It was the longest twenty minutes of my life.
“What happened?” they asked as I helped lower her onto the stretcher.
“She collapsed. She might have been . . . shot. We heard a shot,” I added stupidly. “Hunters, maybe.”
I had left my primary weapon in the limo. I still had a small pistol on my ankle. But they didn’t need to know that.
“You can’t come in with her,” they said as I tried to follow them in through the ambulance bay where they had told us to meet them.
“She’s my fiancée.”
“Doesn’t matter. We will come get you. Let us make sure she’s not in immediate danger.”
“She’s unconscious! Of course she’s in immediate danger!”
“Sir,” the orderly said, giving me a look that said I was about to get kicked out of the damned parking lot. I exhaled and nodded, releasing her hand. I watched in fury as they wheeled her away.
