AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But I never had a woman who got the ball rolling herself. Who was so turned on by my fucked-up needs that she tied herself up. That she cuffed herself to my bed, just to give me what I need. What we both need.
When I roll over, my hand leaves Alix’s hip. She frowns in her sleep. Her mouth purses, and a line grows deep between her eyebrows. She starts to stretch, but I lean close and kiss her neck at the pulse point just beneath her jaw. “Go back to sleep, Princess.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. But when I reach for the sheet so she won’t get cold, I find myself staring at the stripes I laid out on her ass.
The lines are angry. Red. They look like they’ll be hot if I touch them.
To tell the truth, they’re sexy as hell, and I’m proud of myself for spacing them perfectly. Proud of her for taking the punishment, for counting out loud like a good girl. But my princess deserves some salve now, or those marks will turn to nasty bruises.
She doesn’t stir as I open my nightstand, as I twist the lid off a jar and scoop out some arnica balm. But when my fingers smooth her ass, she murmurs something into the crook of her arm.
“What’s that, Princess?” I ask, but she’s doesn’t answer. I go back to working in the salve, moving my hand in long, gentle strokes. Her eyes stay closed. If possible, she relaxes even more.
Her breathing is deep and steady by the time the arnica is gone. I consider slipping my hand over her hip. I think about finding her warm, wet heat, about gathering her own sweet juice to rub her clit until she comes, then sinking my cock into her softness. But she’s already milked me dry, and it would be cruel to wake her.
So I slip out of bed instead. I find my shorts and pull them on before I head downstairs to my office.
I spent hours after I got off the phone with Rider, figuring out how to use the information he gave me. I can hold my own in a bar fight. I’ve spent my time in a gym. Done some krav maga too.
But two against one? And from everything Alix said about those two fucks, they’re suspicious cocksuckers. It’ll be hard to get the drop on them. And I promised Rider to keep his club clean.
I have to even the odds.
And that means I’m back on yet another burner phone with Sawyer Best. He’s got eleven good reasons to want in on the action. We both want those motherfuckers dead.
In the split second before Best answers his phone, I wonder if he’s sleeping. But he sounds alert when he snaps, “Best.” And he listens to the plan I pieced together earlier tonight, when I was nursing my drink in the back yard.
“I can do that,” he says. “You want to take delivery at the freeport?”
“At my penthouse in New York.”
“It’s safest if it comes in with a bunch of other stuff.”
“Citarella’s a grocery store on Broadway. No one will think twice about a few bags of food.”
“Saturday afternoon?”
“We’ll be there by three.”
“Expect a drop-off by four, then.”
He confirms I know how to use the shit, goes over everything three times so there’s no chance of a mistake. We talk about clean-up on the other end.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” I say once all the details are set.
His laugh is soft. “Always happy to rid the world of a couple of shitbirds.”
After hanging up, I have one more thing to do. It’s too late to get reservations the old-fashioned way. I shoot an email to Susan Richards, telling her what I need.
She’s not Pete Miller. She can’t read my mind yet. But she’s already made herself so indispensable around the freeport that I’m considering doubling her salary.
Maybe I will, after next weekend. A little celebration, once Alix and I are free of the Herzog brothers forever.
26
ALIX
* * *
