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“Yes.” Her tongue rasps along the seam of her mouth, showing the excitement building at the thought she’ll get what she wanted last night but never got.
“You’re going to kill me.” My fingers flip the button of my pants, then the zipper comes down. My cock is standing at the ready, and Journey doesn’t hesitate even with her hands behind her back. She lowers her head, tongue flicking the head of my length, gathering the wetness there and bringing it inside her mouth. My eyes close in rapture. My fingers slip through her hair, the pins popping loose beneath them as I guide her mouth back to my cock. She greedily works her mouth on me, cheeks hollowing in and out with every thrust of my hips. Journey’s hot, wet mouth sucks my cock like her life depends on it. Truth be told, I’m not sure how much longer I can last. I sink further down her throat. Her moan vibrates along my cock, and that’s all it takes. I’m jetting my cum into her mouth, and the greedy woman she is swallows it down, and even when I’m done coming, Journey takes it one step further, licking my length to make sure she got it all.
“Fuck, Journey, I think you took my soul out of my body.” I recover, already helping her up. “You okay?” I ask, worrying about her hands bound behind her back.
“I’m good. In desperate need of you, but no tingling or numbness.” She pressed her legs together, sliding them back and forth trying to gain friction to ease the need built inside of her from sucking me off.
“I guess it’s my turn to make my wife come, then.” I kick my pants off my feet and walk around her until my front meets her back, moving her towards the bed, my cock already hard again. “Bend over, vita mia. It’s time I take care of you.” And I’m going to do that starting with my mouth, returning the favor in a way that will light her world on fire.
EIGHTEEN
Journey
Today isone of those days when nothing goes right. I mean, I should be on top of the world. Wedded bliss has been an understatement. That’s not what’s pissing me off this morning. If anything could go wrong, it does: missing promotional packages, missing contracts that need to be looked over but aren’t, and the headache that’s creeping behind my eyes isn’t helping. The only saving grace is that Nico has been home every night when I come home from working at my apartment and wakes me up in a way that guarantees a great start to my day. Well, it should have, except the mess I’m dealing with.
“How about we leave those and deal with them later, or I can drop them off to the lawyer for you?” Hendrix is my personal assistant and lifeline that keeps me semi-organized, not that it’s her fault. It doesn’t matter how many lists she keeps or texts she sends, I’m always off in my own world. The creative side in me really fucks my life up.
“Lawyer definitely. If not, I’ll have Wylder or Nico look at them. These aren’t the everyday run-of-the-mill contracts,” I tell her, standing up from my place in the kitchen, which I’m using as a makeshift office when we’re both hungry. Today, I’ve already had two Zoom calls, one for a product that’s still in the planning phase that they asked my input on. It’s going to require consistent usage for at least three months to make sure the product is effective, and I advertise it on Instalook. Maybe it’s overkill, but it’s who I am. I’ll never willingly broadcast something I don’t think will actually work. In the other contract there’s a clause about having control over what I can post on Instalook during the campaign timing for three months after. Having another set of eyes to look at it might not hurt, but I’m pretty sure the answer to that contract is no.
“Very true. If anyone can read between the lines, it’s those two.” Hendrix nods, taking a sip of her smoothie. How she lives off those for lunch, I’ll never understand. I prefer a sandwich with all the fixings and chips on the side, washing it down with an energy drink. Is it healthy? Probably not. It’s also why I run every morning, something that hasn’t been happening over the last few days.
“So, tell me, now that I’m off the market, any hot dates lately?” I ask, seeing how the majority of our work is done for the day, having filmed a try-on earlier, a makeup tutorial to post tomorrow, and being at a standstill since packages are currently missing in action. “You know, since I’m currently a married woman and officially not looking.”
“The dating life is wild. I’m on this new dating app, but I swear, in all actuality, going on a date may be a four-out-of-ten chance. Excuses fly out the window on the day of the outing, or they ghost you. Like, what the hell? Make up an excuse, like your pet snake died, but to go quiet? Bullshit. It’s all bullshit. And listen, Journey, you’ve been off the market for a long time now. You might have been oblivious, but no one is really surprised you and Nico eloped.” She rolls her eyes at the end.
“Wait a second; guys do that?” Before Nico, I wasn’t really interested in dating. Building my business was the name of the game. Plus, there were absolute horror stories from some other social media influencers about men only staying with them for their money, and once the well ran dry, they dumped them flat on their face, usually taking half the money with them. No thanks.
“They do, more often than you’d think. I’m probably going to give up soon. Maybe I’m just destined to be a Golden Retriever mom.” She takes another sip of her smoothie while shrugging her shoulders.
“Okay, but tell me another thing: how did you know Nico and I were a thing? We haven’t told a soul besides the inner family members.”
“Well, it’s kind of hard for me not to know, considering I have your phone most of the time, schedule your day, and practically live here.” When she puts it like that, I guess she’s right.
“True. We were trying to keep things quiet, and then, well, you know what happened last weekend.” There was no keeping it off social media once it happened, along with certain magazines getting ahold of pictures later on that night. Delaney handled that, having friends in the business and knowing that we needed them leaked. And what better way to control the media than hand-delivering the story yourself?
“I’ll say. The dress looked amazing on you. Nico wasn’t looking too bad himself. You two are the ultimate power couple.” We stand up from the bar in the kitchen, both of us throwing away our trash.
“Thanks. Sadly, that won’t be the only wedding. Once our parents are back in town, between my mom and Nico’s, it’ll be absolutely everything I don’t want. That’s why I’m glad we did things the way we did—small and intimate. Guaranteed the next one will have over three hundred guests in a church followed by an even longer reception.” It comes with the territory, and while I’ll love walking down the aisle to Nico again, I could do without the fanfare.
“You know, we could document the process. Not a whole lot, especially because of the costs, but definitely some of it. Maybe give tips on how to cut corners to save money here and there, or we could do a spend versus splurge option for new content.” This is why I love Hendrix; she’s the peanut butter to my jelly.
“That will work perfectly, and the moms can get in on it, too. Alright, chickadee, today hasn’t been that fun, but there’s nothing else to do. I think we can head home for the day.” Having an early day is rare for the two of us. It’s usually go, go, go from the time we get here until the sun starts setting.
“Early day with lunch. I’ll take that gift. I think I’ll go home, change clothes, grab Jolene, and take her for a nice hike. Maybe then she won’t attempt to eat my shoes.” Jolene is Hendrix’s Golden Retriever, a little over a year old, but she’s a chewer along with a panty thief. Everything is fair game when it comes to her dog. At first, Hendrix would bring her here during the day, but as she got older, we had to either crate her, or she’d chew up packages. So, she made the decision to keep her at home and have a dog walker come twice a day to let her out and play with Jolene for a bit.
“Take it and run because it might not be this way next week.” Especially if the mysterious packages arrive.
“I’m good with whatever. Let’s lock this place down and head home.” She goes about doing that while I text Enzo to let him know I’m ready to return home. I’ve got a whole new routine of being chauffeured to and from. You’d think I’d like it, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I miss driving my car with the music blaring, windows down, and decompressing. Apparently, when you become a boss’ wife, that goes out the window and Enzo handles you and will be picking me up and taking me wherever. The only time I’m without a guard is here in my apartment, well, that I’m aware of, clearly. I’ll have some hurdles to jump through until I get used to how things are supposed to go.
NINETEEN
Nico
I walk into our bedroom.The time on my phone tells me it’s well after one in the morning, and I’m just now getting home while wrapping up another phone call, a useless lead once again with all of this shit that involves the Russians and Petrov. Earlier tonight, one of his cronies was caught distributing ecstasy throughout one of our clubs. I’m not saying people can’t do their own thing recreationally, but dealing in the clubs we own? Fuck that. Not without a fee, and the Russians don’t hold that contract, along with the fact that the guys we do work with have a binding one where nothing else is slipped in the ecstasy they do distribute. One issue, and they know we’ll pull the plug on anything and everything. The attention the Russians could give us would also mean cops breathing down our backs. It doesn’t matter that we have them on our payroll. There are certain things they can’t turn a blind eye to, and people dying would definitely make certain of that.
I’m stopped in my tracks; every light in the house is off except one. Off to the side in our bedroom is a sitting area. A place Journey has made her own, a few magazines and books stacked one on top of the other. “She left a light on,” I murmur quietly into the room. She did it in her apartment and has done the same thing here since she’s been here with me. Why I’m finally getting all the little things she does for me through my thick head, I’m not sure. All I know is that there isn’t a single person who could take Journey away from me, even myself.
This whole situation is entirely fucked up. It’s been a couple of weeks since Journey and I said our vows. My parents are due back this weekend, which means dinner at their house after already doing the same thing at the Hayes’ house earlier this week. I fucked up on that, too, it seems, showing up without my wife and instead meeting her there. It wasn’t the best impression even if Danny and Karen already knew me from years past. Journey told them it worked better for us since we were both working and it was the middle of the week. That still didn’t help the guilt I’m carrying around and continue to carry as I slide into bed beside my wife for the fourth time this week as she’s asleep. Petrov is still walking the street, the threats are getting greater, and the men who were captured on the day of our wedding were nothing but messengers. A damn shame, too. Young, and dumb, out to make a quick buck. They were expendable like every other man we’ve come into contact with. I’ll give Petrov one thing: he’s a slippery little shit. No matter what we’ve done, I can’t even get the fucker to have a sit-down, meeting with me like a real man. The only thing that settles my ass down from wanting to tear this town apart after the threats he’s been sending, which are escalating, is knowing Journey will sleep beside me. A few of those threats are too close to comfort. It’s happening with family members, and even a note was left on my SUV earlier today. No one fucking saw it, even when we had the security cameras pulled up. Whoever he paid did a damn good job to avoid them.
