Arturo paces in the front courtyard, raking his hands through his hair. “Today’s loss was the biggest yet.”
Another one of our shipments was targeted this morning, resulting in a hundred kilo loss of merchandise. I’d expected some blowback from the Italians, but not this targeted. Their attacks are too precise to be operating off blind luck. Arturo’s frustration pales in comparison to mine but I refuse to let any of my men see me be affected by this.
“I’ll talk to Tellier while we’re at Excess. He has his ear to the ground, I want to know if he’s heard any whispers about where they could be getting their info.”
My gaze darts back towards the front door. Tess is finishing getting ready and I’m eagerly waiting for her to come out.
Arturo’s eyes widen. “Is that really the best place to discuss this?”
“You’d rather I wait until we schedule something formal, potentially after a couple more shipments are hit?”
“No, Diablo, but–”
“I’ll talk to him tonight.” He picks up on the finality in my tone and doesn’t respond.
At that moment, the door opens and out comes Tess. She walks down the stairs in the most sinful dress I’ve ever laid eyes on – chrome pink, tight, and short. The fact that it matches the plug still buried in her ass drives me wild. Every time her leg lifts to come down a step, she nearly flashes me. The cocky smile she directs my way tells me she knew exactly how it was going to affect me.
Her hair is down around her shoulders, her eyes lightly shaded with soft pink hues that accentuate the blues of her irises. My gaze rakes over her curves, over those very apparent love marks, leaving a warm imprint of my possessive gaze behind.
“Jefe,” Arturo warns. “She’s barely wearing anything. Maybe she should change…”
Tess frowns when she hears him, clear hesitation marking her features. I reach out a hand to her, pulling her close.
“No longer in mourning?” I smirk.
Her smile comes back, her eyes glittering. She shakes her head softly. “No.”
“That’s good to hear,” I whisper. “You’re so fucking hot.” Turning towards my lieutenant, I add. “Let them look, Turo. They’ll see she belongs to me.”
He nods stiffly, then gets into the black car waiting behind us. Tess makes a move to go in after him, but I stop her with a hand on her lower belly.
“We’re not taking the car tonight, amor.”
“What do you mean?”
Grabbing her by the hips, I turn her to face the grass just off to the side of the house where my Arc Vector motorcycle awaits us.
“That’s our ride.”
“Wow, it’s beautiful.”
She lets me take her hand and walk her over to the feat of engineering that is my bike. The uncertain look on her face remains even as I throw my leg over one side and get on.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. If there was any amount of money I could pay to make her never experience that emotion again, I would.
I palm the helmet hanging from the handlebars and bring it onto my lap, opening the chin strap and visor. Reaching for her, I brush the hair back from her face carefully and then put it on her head. She looks adorable with the helmet on, strands of blonde hair framing the visible band around her eyes.
“I’d die before I let anything happen to you on this bike,” I tell her, clipping the chin strap back in place. Then I unzip my jacket, revealing my black tee, and motion at her to slip it on. “So you’re not cold. It gets chilly.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll have you pressed up against my back, your hands wrapped securely around my body. Nothing’s going to keep me warmer than that.”
She smiles, leaning in for a kiss when she remembers the helmet she has on and laughs instead.
“Come on, get on,” I say, putting on my own helmet.
Tess places both hands on my shoulders and one hand on her foot hold, using it as momentum to get her leg over the other side. When she sits, she groans loudly, her covered forehead coming down against my shoulder.
“Problem?”
“No,” she says on a sharp inhale. “It’s just… sitting like this, with my legs spread. It’s adding pressure on the plug.”
Lust shoots straight to my groin at the tormented undertone in her voice. I look over my shoulder back at her.
“Wait until the bike’s vibrations pulse against it, amor. If you don’t come from that stimulation, I’ll have taken the bike out for nothing.”
She gasps. “Is that why you–”
“Yes,” I say, reaching a possessive hand back to cup to the top of her exposed thigh. “I want you to come while you hold onto me for dear life.”
I slam her visor shut, then mine, cutting off the words on the tip of her tongue. She tentatively grabs me, one hand coming around each side of my ribs. I grab her wrists and yank them forward until she falls against my back.
“Keep your arms wrapped around my waist,” I order and she does as I ask, long nails scraping against my abdomen.
I rev the engine loudly and then we’re off. The wind whips around us, brisk and sharp, but Tess’s body stays pressed against mine. The bike roars vigorously between our legs and as we weave between cars and down open roads, I’m reminded of the power this machine makes me feel.
Tess doesn’t know that mics in our helmets connect us. Mine is muted to avoid distracting her so all I focus on are the sounds she’s making. And they’re unbelievable. She pants and gasps and mewls and mutters cursed call outs for God as the juddering of the bike pushes and shakes the plug deeper inside her. She presses her hips forward, trying to add similar friction to her clit. When it makes contact with the leather, her fingers claw at my stomach and she shatters with a loud cry.
We come to a slow stop at a massive triple intersection and I pop my visor open, looking back at her with dark, gleaming eyes. “Good girl,” I praise.
She opens her own visor, the top of her cheeks bright red.
“You heard that?”
I press a button on my phone that unmutes me and I speak into the mic. “Every. Single. Moan.”
Her eyes widen comically when my voice echoes in her helmet. She slaps my upper arm and I laugh boisterously.
“Get my seat dirty, preciosa. I want you to come on everything I own.”
“That’s a lot of orgasms,” she points out.
I tip her chin under her helmet. “We’ve got time.”
She playfully smacks my visor closed and I turn back around, waiting for the light to turn green. That’s when I feel her hand drop from my stomach down to cup my cock through my trousers. I hiss in a breath, tensing against her chest.
“Careful,” I warn silkily.
“You’re not the only one who can have fun.”
I grip her wrist and bring her hand back up to my abdomen. “I just promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. If you stroke my cock while I drive, I’ll crash us within the next fifteen seconds.”
Tess shakes my hold off and squeezes my dick one more time before resting her hand on my thigh.
“I’ll deal with you when we get there,” I growl.
“I look forward to it.”
A Hummer pulls up in the lane next to ours.
Tess rakes her nails gleefully down my stomach, making me groan. She’s teasing me and driving me to the very edge, but short of fucking her in front of an audience, which isn’t fucking happening, there’s nothing I can do. My right hand reaches up to finger the fabric of her dress, tugging it down. It’s so short that it rides almost completely up her leg when she’s seated, so I keep my hand splayed protectively on her thigh.
Awareness filters down my spine when the Hummer’s driver window rolls down. An elbow comes out to rest on the car door, followed by the face of some twenty year old frat boy turning to stare lewdly at Tess. His friends in the passenger and back seats egg him on encouragingly, wide grins splitting their faces.
“Hey, baby,” the driver drawls out in a thick American accent, a suggestive smile pulling at his lips. “Why don’t you come over here and wrap your legs around a real man for a change?”
“Yeah, between the three of us we could put those holes to good use,” his friend chirps.
Tess’s arms tighten around me. My blackout visor stays down as I turn my head slowly towards the driver. His smile wipes off in a decidedly less cheerful manner than it appeared when he finds himself looking cross eyed into the barrel of my gun. My arm is outstretched, bridging the gap between the two lanes until the pistol is less than a foot from his face. His friend slumps bonelessly down into his seat, disappearing from view.
“Repeat that.”
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
Arctic frost sweeps into my tone, my finger flipping the safety off with a loud, chilling click.
“Apologize.”
“I’m s-sorry, miss,” he answers, voice shaking. I’d bet a hundred grand he’s pissing himself right now.
“Misses,” Tess corrects easily, holding up her left hand in his direction. My approving growl echoes territorially between us, my other hand tightening bruisingly on her thigh.
He turns ghostly pale as he takes in her diamond ring and wedding band.
“Roll your window back up.”
“Yes, sir,” he squeaks.
He rolls it closed then blows through the red light, just nearly avoiding colliding with oncoming traffic.
A pity.
The car behind him slowly advances into the vacant spot, the driver keeping his wide eyes dutifully on the road.
“That was reckless,” Tess admonishes me softly.
She’s not wrong.
But it’s not like I want to be threatening, maiming, or killing every fucker we come into contact with. It’s Tess who makes them lose their minds, their entire sense of self-preservation.
If I didn’t have such a beautiful wife, the life expectancy of London’s male population would be much higher, the mortality rate significantly lower.
I remember months ago when I was worried about my growing obsession, about her becoming a vulnerability of mine. I tried to stop it, tried to guard against the tentacles of those feelings encroaching around my heart. Now I’m rashly killing important leads, chopping off limbs in public spaces, and whipping out my gun on an open road.
In retrospect, trying to stop myself from caring about Tess was like asking the Earth to stop rotating around the Sun.
Simply impossible.
She’s my biggest weakness. My Achilles’ heel. The easiest, most obvious, and certainly the most lethal way somebody could hurt me.
