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“Show me.”
I show him the message and my response. “You know who sent it?”
He shrugs. “I’ve an idea, but I can’t be sure. Something about this isn’t adding up.” He takes another drink, looking at me with a strange expression on his face.
“I should go,” he says, shaking away whatever he was thinking.
He reaches into his pocket and I think he’s going for his gun. I swallow hard, sure my end has come. Instead, he pulls out a folded piece of paper, holding it out toward me.
“What’s this?”
“There’s a chance I might not come back. If I don’t, these are the details you need to access my computer guy. Morgan. He’s got thirty thousand dollars held for you. It’s all I could borrow at short notice.”
“Borrowed? Who from?”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t call that number unless you have to. If I’m not back by tomorrow night, you call it, get the money, grab Sophie. Then you get the hell out of the country. He can get you a fake passport, travel tickets. Pick a country and keep moving. Don’t stay anywhere long. Got it?”
“You’re scaring me, Jack.”
“Good. You should be scared. It’ll keep you alert. That’ll keep you alive.”
“But why does it matter? You’ll be back tomorrow. You said you were only going to a meeting with Vincenzo.”
“Anything could happen any time.” There’s a weight to each word he says. I frown, waiting for him to say more, but he falls silent.
“I won’t ask you again,” I say, walking over to him, putting my hand on top of his. “But if you want to talk, it could help.”
His fingers shift, stroking against my knuckles. “I might not be back,” he says, staring into my eyes, that pain visible that I’ve seen too many times now. “Promise me you’ll take care of Sophie. Keep her safe.”
“I promise.”
His hand shifts again, wrapping around mine. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but instead he yanks me off my feet, pulling me toward him. I stumble, my face hitting his. He grabs hold of me, kissing me like he’s afraid he might never get to do it again.
So help me, I let it happen. I don’t even try to fight this. What if I never see him again? Why is that thought so painful?
His hands slide down my back. I can feel his cock digging into me. It’s already hard, twitching as he squeezes my ass.
I’ve still got my sweatpants on and the waistband’s elastic. He slides his hands inside, getting into my panties, groping my buttocks as he keeps kissing me.
I reach up to his jacket, shucking it off his shoulders. “We shouldn’t do this,” he says, lifting me off my feet and lowering me onto the bed.
“So don’t,” I tell him as he yanks my sweats down my legs, bringing my panties with them.
He’s already standing up, undoing his shirt, revealing that rock-hard chest of his, the muscles drawing my eyes downward to the line of hair like an arrow pointing toward his pants.
“Touch yourself for me,” he says, undoing his belt a moment later.
I reach down and pull my top off first, unhooking my bra, showing him my naked body, watching his reaction. I’ve changed since the last time he saw me. A couple of years and growing a baby will do that to a woman. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looks more turned on than when he last saw my body. He strips out of the last of his things, grabbing his cock and stroking it while my hand slips between my legs.
“Make yourself wet,” he says, taking a step toward me.
I remember how it went last time. “Yes, Sir.” I spread myself wide, loving the feel of his attention on me.
His eyes narrow as he watches me slip a finger into myself. “Slowly,” he says. “Take it slowly.”
I slip it back out, playing with my clit, lifting my knees and moving them apart, feeling exposed yet relaxed at the same time.
He continues to stroke his shaft as he climbs onto the bed, sitting on my chest, pushing himself straight into my mouth. “Keep touching yourself,” he says as my tongue flicks along his length. “Make yourself come for me.”
