The Devil I Don't Know

by LK Shaw

  I snort at how ridiculous I must have sounded asking if he’d be on the menu. My dirty talk clearly needs some work. I grab the pot of noodles and dump them in the strainer in the sink. Once the hamburger is done, I pour in the spaghetti sauce and add some mushrooms. I make myself a plate and head to the dining room table. While I eat, I dive back into the book I’d been reading. I’m halfway through my meal when Jacob comes home.

  His footsteps are faint on the hardwood floor. He pauses at the sight of me and curses. “I forgot your lunch.”

  I wave him off with a smile. “I just assumed your meeting ran late. Let me get you a plate.”

  “No. Finish. I can serve myself.” He heads to the stove, and I lower myself back into my chair and continue eating.

  Jacob takes a seat next to me and digs in.

  “I’m curious about all these meetings you have. What are they all for?” I ask, avoiding anything related to our previous conversation.

  He pauses mid-bite and glances over at me. “It depends,” he says after a moment. “Some of them are discussing how much profit our legit businesses are making, and how much our non-legit ones are bringing in.”

  “May I ask what all of those businesses are? Or is that not something I should know? I only wonder, because I have a finance degree, and I might be able to help you find ways to increase your profit margins,” I tell him. “I didn’t really think I’d ever be able to use it, but maybe I can.”

  “We own several restaurants, a casino, an auto-body shop, and a dance club,” he says.

  I perk up at the last. “What kind of dance club? I’ve never been to one before and have always wanted to go.”

  Jacob looks at me without expression. “Never?”

  My eyes narrow while I try to decide if there’s a tone to his question. “I’ve never really had any girlfriends,” I finally say with a small shrug. “All my time at college had been spent studying, anyway.”

  “If you’d like to go, I can probably arrange it for you.”

  “Alone?” I gape.

  “Of course not alone. Giovanni would be with you,” he says.

  I glare at him. “I’m not dragging poor Gio to a dance club with me. Why can’t you take me?”

  He stares at me in surprise. “I don’t dance.”

  I fix my gaze on him. “I assume you still visit it?”

  Jacob pauses. “On occasion.”

  “What do you do while you’re there, then?” I ask, although maybe I don’t want to know.

  “My time is spent in the VIP section, discussing business. It’s loud and crowded, but some of my business associates enjoy the view it provides, so we cater to them.”

  “By the view, I assume you mean the women?”

  “Yes.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about Jacob spending time in a dance club full of women. “I’d still like to go, but with you.”

  He takes far too long to respond. “I suppose I can take you there one night soon.”

  “What about the non-legit businesses?” I ask, because I can’t help myself.

  Jacob clears his throat. “Are you sure this isn’t one of those things that you don’t really want to know about?”

  This is where being around my sister rubs off on me, because with his single question, he just has to tell me. “I get the impression you don’t think I can handle it. Because I assure you I can.” I think.

  Jacob sighs and sits back in his seat. “We mostly deal in drugs, guns, and money laundering.”

  I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. I suppose I should be a little scandalized that my husband is essentially a drug and arms dealer. I’d guessed weapons were involved, though, considering he came home with a bullet wound only last night. My god, had it only been just last night? It seems like a lifetime ago.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he says.

  “I guess I was expecting…more. Not that those aren’t a lot, but it’s not surprising. Should I be more shocked or outraged? I can be, if you’d like.”

  Jacob huffs and smiles, shaking his head a bit. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  I preen a little at what I’m going to take as a compliment. “I’m the wife of Emilio Jacob Ricci, who is, according to my sister, the”—I hesitate for only half a beat—“badass leader of the Italian syndicate. That means something to me.”

  I’ve brushed my teeth for the night, and my fingers pause in the middle of braiding my hair. Just like that, I come to a decision. I unravel the braid I’d started and run my brush through it. I glance at myself in the mirror. My green polka dot sleep shorts and matching spaghetti strap top aren’t screaming seduction, especially with the cami-bra I have on as well.

  I wiggle out of the bra and toss it to the floor behind the door. My nipples are hard and clearly visible through the flimsy, threadbare cotton fabric. A shiver of anticipation runs through me. At least I’m telling myself it’s anticipation.

  With a deep breath, I step into the bedroom where Jacob is still undressing. He pauses, and his eyes travel the length of my body, stopping at my chest before moving on. I didn’t think my nipples could get any harder, but I’m proven wrong.

  Our gazes meet again, and he picks up where he left off and finishes unbuttoning his dress shirt. He shrugs out of it, every sinewy muscle rippling with the movement. Being far tidier than me, he hangs the shirt over the back of the chair he uses for that purpose.

  Next, Jacob removes his white undershirt, neatly folding it and laying it on the seat. My breathing increases at the sight of his completely naked chest. It’s not as though this is the first time I’ve seen it. But tonight is different.

  I clear my throat. “I think now is a good time.”

  “For?”

  “I believe another orgasm had been tabled for later.”

  His eyes widen a fraction. “Yes, something of that nature may have been mentioned.”

  I run an appreciative gaze over him, taking everything in. All the dark shadows in several places, including along his ribs and on his right flank several inches from his belly button. I’ve seen these markings before, but naively hadn’t considered them to be gunshot wounds. Except for the one on his flank. It’s shaped a bit differently than the rest. A knife, maybe? I shudder at the thought, and my heart hurts for the pain he’s suffered. Despite the scars, his body is near perfection.

  “It’s later,” I blurt out.

  “So it is,” Jacob replies, wryly, as his hands go to his belt buckle.

  My eyes lock in on every flick of his fingers as he unbuckles it and slides it out of each loop, his movements slow, as though he senses my impatience. Those same fingers return to the waist band of his pants. I can’t look away, and they’re soon sliding down his muscled legs. He’s already removed both shoes and socks, so he merely steps out of his pants and hangs them neatly over the dress shirt he recently discarded.

  With far more confidence than I have, Jacob stands there, left in only his boxer briefs. His cock is only semi-hard I suspect, and I swallow both in nervousness as well as in greedy anticipation. There’s a sense of pride in the fact that he’s all mine. I’m more than ready to explore every inch of him.

  I’m sure my imagination hasn’t done him justice.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to take more than just standing here for me to get you to orgasm. Although, I probably could,” he boasts with a far too cocky grin.

  My face goes up in flames, but I snort. “Perhaps we’ll save that challenge for another night.”

  That cocky grin turns devious. “You’re on.”

  Jacob’s gaze turns heated, and he scans me up and down once again. His hands go to the waistband of his briefs, and I suck in a quick breath. “I’m about two seconds from removing these. You’re welcome to stay standing and watch or you can relax over there and enjoy the show.” His head nods in the direction of the bed.

  My feet remain frozen to the floor and my focus homes in on where his hands rest.

  “Suit you
rself.” An inch at a time, Jacob slowly pulls his last item of clothing off and steps out of it. He’s fully erect, and the thought of taking all of him is a little intimidating. “Breathe, Brenna.”

  I blink, and he’s directly in front of me. His big strong hands cup my cheeks and he’s staring down into my eyes. My chest rises and falls with the effort to pull in air.

  “That’s it,” he praises.

  Finally, I get myself under control. My body heats with embarrassment. “I hope you don’t develop an over-inflated ego just because I became a little overwhelmed at the sight of your…”—I gesture with my chin. “It’s just that I haven’t ever seen one up close before, well, besides my brothers’, but that’s when they were little, so it’s not quite the same. I’m sure once I’ve seen yours plenty of times, it won’t be such a big deal, because when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. At least I think that’s how the saying—”

  The rest of my words are smothered by Jacob’s mouth. I sigh against his lips and open for him. His tongue slips inside, and I tangle mine with it. He could kiss me for hours, and I’d never get tired of it.

  My husband takes his time, like he’s savoring my flavor. I love the feel of him this close, his body heat, and the gentle way he holds me. His kisses are perfection. My hands glide up his naked back, and I moan at the sensation of his bare flesh against my fingertips.

  I explore all the furrows and valleys I’d admired on our wedding night, and I dip the tip of one finger into those little divots he has at the base of his spine. Jacob groans and the wonderful rumbling races across my nerve endings.

  Forgetting his completely naked state, I close the distance between us. His hardened length pushes against my stomach, and he swallows my gasp. I continue tracing designs across his back while he removes his hands from my face and begins his own exploration.

  Calloused fingers dance along my shoulders, teasing along the straps of my top. Jacob breaks our kiss, but his lips only shift to a new spot along my jaw. He nibbles and licks a path up to my ear, his breaths tickling the sensitive skin. My neck receives equal focused attention. I tilt my head to the side to give him better access.

  I’m awash with arousal. Every kiss—every touch—has been leading up to this. I’d never imagined my marriage could be like this. I’d been so afraid of getting lost in the background. Of being dismissed. But Jacob has always managed to make me feel seen.

  A new confidence fills me. I’d been too shy to ask for what I wanted only a few moments ago. A strong husband needs a strong wife. I step out of his embrace and lock eyes with him. With trembling fingers, I grasp the hem of my pajama top and pull it up and over my head. My hair cascades over one shoulder. I stand nervous, but proud, in front of Jacob, whose gaze has drifted downward. He swallows hard. His eyes flash with so much heat, I’m surprised to find I haven’t been incinerated by it.

  “I knew they’d be the color of cotton candy,” he murmurs almost absently, his gaze continuing to drink me in.

  He moves to take a step forward, but I place my palm on his chest to stop him. A surge of electricity races up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I shiver as the spark dances across the back of my neck. Jacob looks questioningly at me. I pull my hand back, and with one final burst of courage, I tuck my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts. My hips wiggle as I slide them down and nudge them with my foot to join my top on the floor, leaving me just as naked as my gorgeous husband.

  My lips are so dry, I wet them. Boldly, I stand with my head up and my hands at my side, letting Jacob’s smoldering gaze take everything in. His fists are clenched near his hips, as though he’s resisting the urge to reach out to me. Taking pity on him, I finally close the distance between us. I avoid looking down. Instead, I do what I’d wanted to do last night. Stand on tiptoe, wrap my arms around his neck, and rub my hard, aching nipples against his chest.

  “I’m ready for that orgasm you promised me,” I say loud and clear.

  Chapter 23

  Jacob

  * * *

  Fucking Christ. I can’t remember being this turned on before. My innocent, virgin wife is thoroughly seducing me. Brenna’s tiny stutter earlier over the word badass had been adorable. If I hadn’t been so attuned to her words, I might have missed it. Her declaring herself my wife, as a point of pride, had made me hard as a rock. It had taken far more control than I ever thought I possessed to not sweep everything off the kitchen table and take her right then and there.

  And here she is, standing naked in front of me, practically demanding her pleasure. In this instance, I bow to her command. Carefully, I walk her backward until we reach the bed. I guide her onto her back and cage her body within mine. There’s a bit of nervousness in her expression, but not the fear I witnessed on our wedding night.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I say, brushing the burning flame-colored hair off Brenna’s forehead. My finger traces the pink that flares across her cheeks.

  “So are you.” Her delicate hands caress the tops of my shoulders.

  No one has ever called me beautiful before.

  Deadly.

  Cold.

  Arrogant.

  Those words have been used to describe me.

  I shift onto my side. Brenna’s nipples are exactly like I pictured them. My finger draws a line from her cheek down to her neck, and then onto her sternum before coming to rest on the crest of one of her soft mounds.

  “Do you know, these are what I thought about while I stroked myself in the shower,” I confess as I trace my finger around the outer rim of her breast. My gaze moves to her face for her reaction. Her eyes have darkened to almost black. Her lips are ruby red, and tiny teeth marks grace the bottom one.

  “What were you doing to them?” she rasps out.

  “I was thinking about how sweet they would taste on my tongue. About how I’d suck on your pert nipples so hard you’d feel it all the way down to your tight, pink pussy.” My voice is gruff with arousal.

  Brenna whimpers, and her eyes nearly close before she locks them back on me. Her little breathy moans make it hard to maintain control.

  I wouldn’t mind you losing control. Her goddamn words come back to taunt me.

  “Maybe you should find out if they taste like you imagined,” she whispers sweetly.

  That’s all it takes for my iron hard control to crumble. My wife has brought me to my knees. I dip my head and my mouth closes around her tight, pebbled nub. I lave it with my tongue and then latch on, holding it tight to the roof of my mouth, and suck.

  Brenna cries out, and her back arches off the bed. Her fingers spear my hair and she pulls me tightly to her, clutching and holding me close. I keep sucking while my free hand plucks at its twin, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.

  The musky scent of her arousal fills the air. By the time I finish with her, our room is going to reek of sex. Every time she steps in here, she’ll remember tonight, and how my mouth felt on her breasts and how my cock felt inside that soaking wet pussy. A groan rumbles out of my chest at the picture inside my brain.

  A sharp pinch of pain brings me back. Brenna’s nails are digging into my scalp, the sting only ramping up my arousal. My cock is aching, but she needs to be ready for me. I switch to her other breast, giving it the same treatment while my hand drifts down her stomach. She twitches and sucks in a breath. I pause for just a second, but she whimpers again, raising her hips the slightest bit. Taking that as encouragement, I slide those last few inches down.

  I moan at the slickness I encounter. This is what I wanted. Brenna’s wet, juicy pussy. To feel her arousal against my fingertips. I suck harder on her nipple and then flick my tongue across it. My questing digit reaches her clit.

  “Is this where you’ve touched yourself?” I ask, my voice gravel-filled.

  She bites that bottom lip again and nods. I rub it, slow at first.

  “Faster,” Brenna begs. “Harder.”

  I change the pace, the pressure, and with every comb
ination, I watch her face, listen to her gasps and moans, and soon, I find the rhythm that makes her body twitchy and reach for more. Her expressions show me everything, including the second before complete ecstasy washes over her. Her hips come off the bed, a small cry escapes, she goes rigid, and then trembles.

  My body covers her and I line my cock up at her entrance, tiny shivers still vibrating through her. Slowly, carefully, I enter. She’s so goddamn tight, it’s a miracle I don’t come. Sweat covers my skin. Brenna’s eyes pop open and she stares up at me. I stop moving.

  “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” I whisper against her mouth, my muscles almost shaking with the effort not to push farther inside.

  “I don’t want gentle,” Brenna shakes her head. “I’m not this delicate glass figurine that is going to break if you clutch it too tightly, Jacob. Don’t ever hold back with me. I want everything you can give me.”

  Her words enflame me, and with a single thrust, I surge upward, burying my entire length inside her. She flinches, and sucks in a sharp breath. I freeze, forcing myself to stay still and let her body get accustomed to the feel of me. I place soft kisses across her face—nose, eyelids, mouth. Her lips open to me and her small tongue glides across mine. I do nothing but kiss her for several minutes until finally she lifts her hips a fraction.

  “I feel so full,” she murmurs against my lips. “Make love to me, please.”

  My hips roll, and I begin to move. Slowly at first, gauging Brenna’s reactions. Making sure she’s not hurting. She mimics my movements. At first she’s uncoordinated, virginal, until finally we find a matching rhythm. She meets every thrust with one of her own. Her legs wrap around my waist and her heels dig into my ass trying to pull me deeper each time.