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Gate worked his fingers against her. “You got any idea how to stop them?” Gate asked.
“What are you after?” Anna asked, arching into his hand.
“Trying to take this operation apart,” Gate said, moving his fingers a little faster.
“Only way is to get someone inside. Got to get a wire or cameras in there.”
“You got access to those kinds of people?” Gate asked, grinding his cock into the luscious curve of Anna’s ass.
“Gate,” Anna moaned, “I am those kinds of people.”
Gate spun her around, lifted her in his arms, planted her back against the tile, and drove his cock home.
“Fuck, woman,” Gate ground out. “Won’t ever get enough of you.”
Anna arched her back, her tits pressing into his chest.
Gate’s cock hardened even more, nearly to the point of pain, but desire blinded Gate to anything but pounding deeper into the wet heat of Anna’s core.
He wanted to brand her with his touch.
To sear his name into her soul.
He wanted to join them to the point that neither of them knew where one ended and the other began.
Gate wanted her to know who she belonged to. And that she’d belong to him forever. And he wanted her to know that even after they put him in the ground, he’d still be hers and she’d find him waiting for her on the other side.
And then he knew what he had to do.
The kind of statement that would be loud enough for her, and everyone else, to hear.
And when they came together, he growled her name as he looked into her eyes, and for the second time in his life, he watched her fall.
*************************
Anna
“Yo, Anna, what’s up?” Brent asked, leaning against the door frame of my office, a study in effortless low-country cool.
I stood and snagged my purse on the way to the door, breezing by him so that all he could do was follow. “We’re walking.”
“You sound like some TSA public service announcement.”
“Close enough,” I muttered, halfway under my breath, and heading for the front door.
“Outside? Seriously? It’s hot as fuck,” Brent complained.
“Your hair wax won’t melt, so get it in gear. And it’s not the heat. It’s the….”
“Humidity, yeah, I know,” Brent cut me off.
But once we hit the sidewalk and I felt like I was breathing the ocean, which was only about eighteen miles away at Tybee, I wished yet again that I had the technology to sweep the office for bugs myself.
I turned left, toward the park, and Brent kept stride.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t want anyone else to hear it.”
