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“Emil!”I cry out.
“Fuck me,mia regina. Fuck your king.” His words are a deep grumble as he impales me. And I refuse to let my king down. I lift and slam back down on his upward thrust. He barks out a string of curses and jerks his head back as we ride each other tooblivion.
My clit rubs against his pubic hair, and too soon, electricity explodes from my clit, and my muscles lock. “I’m coming! Jesus, Emil. Yes!” My body grows damp with sweat, and my heart threatens to break free from my chest as surge after surge of euphoria wracksmy bones.
Emil thrusts twice more before his hips lift to bury his cock deep inside my core, my name on his lips as he bellows his release. We’re both panting, and my lungs begin to burn with the cold air. My teeth chatter as an icy gust of sea air blows across my sweat-coated skin.
“Fuck,” Emil curses before standing with me in his arms and hot-footing it to the villa. “Amo una donna azza.” He mumbles that he loves a crazy woman under his breath, and I smile and place a kiss on his pec. “You make me lose my mind,mia perla.” I hum into his warm chest and close my eyes in contentment.
The next time they open, all hell breaks loose.
22
Emiliano
The shrill ring of my cell phone has my eyes shooting open and a curse flying from my lips. Greta and I barely made it out of bed to eat between our wild fucking with a bit of lovemaking thrown in here and there. The woman is insatiable, and I am all too happy to oblige her gluttony for orgasms.
Greta stirs when Rooster sits up from his cot at the end of our bed and growls low in his throat. “What’s wrong, baby?” she coos with a sleepy rasp.
My phone rings again. “What?” I answer and watch the hair on the dog’s back rise as he bareshis teeth.
“Signore, we’re und––” The guard stationed at the gate never gets to finish. A deafening blast sounds from the other side of the line before the entire villa shakes.
Greta sits up with a startled yelp. “He’s here!” She leaps from the bed and rushes to get dressed. While she’s jumping around on one leg, attempting to put on her pants, I go over the plan in my head.
“Greta, come.” I gesture for her to follow me into my closet but turn to find the space behind me empty. “Get your ass in here,perla,” I growl in warning.
“Not if you’re going to tell me you’re locking me up for my own protection,” she returns, and I’m confident she gestured with finger quotes on the “own protection” part. With a heavy sigh and a tug of my bed-mangled hair, I resolve not to fight a losing battle with this woman. Because she’s right. I was going to lock her in the safe room on the other side of a hidden door built intomy closet.
Instead, I change direction and walk to the shelves that hold my watches and cufflinks. Placing my thumb on the face of the dummy Jaeger Le Coultre watch, I wait for the face to turn green, then the whirling sound of gears moving. The shelf drops down to expose an arsenal of weapons that would make a Texan drool. And if I needed further proof, the look on Greta’s face as she steps next to me would be it. Her eyes sparkle like a mother looking down at her newborn child, and she smiles despite the house shaking with anotherexplosion.
“I’m assuming you know how to use these?” I grab a 9MM and a seven-inch Espada knife, only to hesitate when something occurs to me. “Your shoulder.” After our time in the library, I scolded her again about not wearing her sling, and she finally relented, onlyafterI threatened to surgically attach it to her arm.
“My stitches are gone, and the doc says I’m doing well. I’ll probably have some residual pain for a while, but otherwise,I’m good.”
Forever my littlefighter.
I nod in approval, and she takes the gun and knife in hand, barely able to hold back a squeal of excitement. I shake my head at the insane woman.Insane and made just for me. When she finishes dressing, I hand her the shoulder holster with extra ammo, then slip the Kevlar vest over her head. Like she’s done it a million times, she immediately tightens the vest and slips her arms into the holster, securing her gun. She’s wearing solid black from her Timberline boots, black Defender tactical leggings, to the long sleeve black turtleneck. She holsters the knife in the built-in sheath of the leggings, and as I watch her gear up for battle, my dick grows stiff, and I have to adjust myself before strapping Rooster into his own Kevlar vest I had specially made by Marron House Technologies a fewweeks ago.
Greta takes the comm system from me and expertly places it in her ear. “How did the men not see this coming?” Her question isn’t accusatory, more like genuinecuriosity.
Lorenzo chooses that moment to burst into my room. “They’re using fucking grenade launchers,” he answers Greta’s question, and looking at him, you would never know he nearly died not toolong ago.
“Fuck me,” I curse and finish setting myown comms.
Greta looks between us in confusion. “I thought we had a security system that could detect movement up to a mile. As far as I remember, the maximum firing range on a grenade launcher was 437 yards,” she finishes, and Lorenzo and I stare at her in dumbfound wonder.
Well, Lorenzo does. I stare at her with barely restrained lust. The woman is sexy on an average day, but here, amidst the chaos of talking weapons and strapped to kill, she is a fucking siren calling to a sailor lost at sea.
“The launchers on the open market, yes, but on the black market, you find all manner of illegally modified weapons. Typically sold by different military branches to fund their wars.”
“Enough,” I interrupt, and both go silent. “It doesn’t fucking matter how it’s possible. Are the guardsin place?”
“Yes,signore.”
“Has that bastard Vasile shownhis face?”
“Their faces are covered. I can’t determine if he’s out there.”
