by Brandy Ayers
“Literally nothing on this planet would keep me from marrying you.” His expression turns serious, and Scott cups my face in his rough hands.
“Seriously, are you okay?”
The paramedics wheel former Agent Rose past us, and he’s still wailing in pain. Maybe I’m a little messed up in the head, because the sound makes me smile.
“I’m good. Take me home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Scott
As it turned out, I couldn’t just take Lacy home right that minute. She had to give a statement to the FBI, tell Agent Templeton all about the threats and the earlier so-called interrogation.
Turns out it was all bullshit.
“So, you're telling me you’ve had this asshole pretending to still be an agent for months and you are just now figuring it out?” Lacy sits on my lap, the weight of her slight body pressing on my thighs and hips reassuring me that she really is okay now. Instead of a cold interrogation room, we are sitting in what I keep thinking of as the FBI’s breakroom. There are stiff looking couches in one corner, several cafeteria style tables and chairs, vending machines, and various kitchen appliances. So far, only the three of us have set foot inside, however.
“You have to understand; Agent Rose was trained to go undetected. He was undercover for many years. Longer than he should have been.” Templeton mumbles the last bit under her breathe, frustration obvious in the tension of her jaw.
Returning her gaze to us, she continues explaining how this all was possible. “So, as far as we can tell, Rose met Mr. Falluci, Lacy’s father, during an operation. At that time, Rose was working undercover in a local mob operation. Mr. Falluci discovered his true identity and paid him to help cover the traffic operations’ tracks. This went on for years. Rose secured a transfer out of undercover. At that time, he became a supervisory agent overseeing his own missions. It gave him access to resources which came in very handy for your father.”
“So, if my dad had an inside guy, how did he end up getting caught?” Lacy shivers a little, and I wrap my arms around her, wanting nothing more to drag her home right now. After cleaning up her scraped knees, the Bureau was nice enough to give some sweat pants and a t-shirt to change into since her clothes had been pretty well ruined through the course of the night. It’s a testament to how much she’s been through that Lacy has yet to complain about the unattractive ensemble.
“The simple answer is his operation grew too big to ignore. Rose’s efforts to distract from the Ring of Fire, as we’ve come to refer to it, weren’t working anymore.” Templeton sighed and leaned back in her chair. “This thing involved some of the biggest businessmen, politicians, hell, even celebrities, that you can imagine. All either helping with the trafficking of girls or coming on board as clients. Not just in the U.S. either. Worldwide. Mr. Falluci isn’t the ring leader, but he is very close to the top of the organization.”
“Will he be caught?” We didn’t have to question who Lacy referred to.
“Hard to say. Your father is a brilliant, ruthless man. He certainly won't make it easy for us.” Templeton raps her knuckles on the table separating us, shaking the surface enough that the untouched coffees before us threaten to spill over the brim of the cheap cups. “But the good news is you were never really being investigated, Ms. Falluci.”
Lacy visibly cringes at the use of her last name. I don't blame her. She’s just spent hours listening to it be used in connection with some of the most evil crimes imaginable.
“Rose had been able to lock down your finances with connections he still had in the bureau and the financial world. But that has all been reversed now. You are free to return to life as you knew it before this whole mess.”
I grip her tighter. She’s not going anywhere if I have any say.
***
Finally, an hour later, we leave the FBI field office in Federal Square. The sun is starting to make its descent despite there still being a few hours left in the work day. For a moment, Lacy and I just stand there on the sidewalk. It’s strange to think this is all behind us now. Lacy may have to testify against Rose and her father down the line, but that is so far in the future, we aren’t even thinking about it yet.
“You know what I really want to do?”
I turn to Lacy, bringing her hand up to my mouth so I can lay a gentle kiss on it. “Go home and re-organize your closet?”
Lacy laughs, her eyes brightening for the first time since we barged into that damn office building. Okay, since I barged in with the FBI trailing behind.
“No. I want to get rid of my last name. Like immediately.”
My heart thuds loudly in my chest. I struggle to keep my voice even. To not pick her up and sprint to the nearest justice of the peace. “Lacy Flores has a nice ring to it.” From the corner of my eye, I watch for her reaction. For any hesitation.
“It really does. Atlantic City or Vegas?”
My skin buzzes with anticipation. I bounce on my feet, ready to go. Now. “Is that even really a question? Vegas baby.”
Times like these it is good to be a rock star, because an hour later, we are on a plane taking off for Sin City. The rest of the band is waiting for Marci and Micah, and they’ll be behind us by a few hours. By the morning, Lacy is going to be my wife, and the idea has me harder than an E7 Sharp 5 chord.
“I don’t have a ring.”
Lacy turns away from the window, where she’d been watching the ground grow smaller beneath us as the plane takes off. “What?”
“Engagement ring. I don’t have one yet. I kept looking, but I couldn’t find anything that…fit you. Nothing was as magnificent as what I feel for you. But you should have a damn ring.”
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I don’t need a ring.” She looks down at where our interlaced fingers rest on my lap. “There was a time I would have insisted on getting the biggest, most insane diamond known to woman-kind. But now, I don’t know, none of that seems necessary. I want you. I want a wedding band. I want your last name. The rest is just, frivolous.”
I stare at the seatbelt sign as if the power of my mind alone will get us to cruising altitude faster. I need to get this woman alone. Now. That word. It keeps repeating my head.
Now. Now. Now. I want it all, with her, right the hell now. “That’s good to hear, but I’m still getting you the biggest fucking diamond we can find in Vegas. I want every shithead on this planet to see you are taken from a mile away. Call me a caveman, but I want no mistakes you are off limits.”
“Caveman.” We both laugh, then Lacy leans her cheek against the plush seatback, staring at me with hearts practically dancing in a halo around her head. “I’m good with huge diamonds, too. I could go either way.”
After what feels like fucking forever, the light blinks off, and we’re free to move around the plane. Instantly, I’m out of my seat, pulling Lacy up and into my arms. With her cradled against my chest and giggling like a schoolgirl, I stalk to the back of the jet where there is a master suite. The bed isn’t huge, this is a jet after all, but it is certainly big enough to fuck my woman properly.
“Need inside you.” I practically growl the words at her and immediately chastise myself for being such a dick. My girl has been through the ringer today. The last thing she needs is me demanding to shove my cock inside her. “But if you just want me to hold you for the whole flight, I will.”
Lacy wiggles down from my hold, ripping off the sweats she never bothered to change out of during our rush to the airport. “Get naked, Flores. Show me how a real man treats a woman.”
I do as she asks, ripping the t-shirt over my head and pants off my legs in record time. “A real man makes sure his woman feels safe, at all times.” I pull her into my arms, her muscles instantly unwinding in my grasp. “I’ll never let anything like that happen again. You’re getting a bodyguard. A super old, ugly bodyguard.”
Lacy laughs.
“A real man makes his woman smile and laugh as often as possible.” I t
ickle the spot on her inner thigh that always sends her into hysterics. “By whatever means necessary.”
Lacy slaps at my arms and twists away as she bursts out into the wild uncontrolled laughter I love most from her. I don’t let her get far.
“A real man tells his woman she’s the strongest, most amazing creature on the face of the planet until she knows the truth of it deep in her soul.” I weave my fingers into her hair, tilting her head back so she meets my intense gaze. So, she can see exactly how true those words are.
Her gaze softens, but the fire I can’t get enough of sparks behind the tenderness. “You don’t have to convince me I’m awesome. I already know.”
“Good.” I skate my fingers up between her thighs, spearing my middle finger into her soaked cunt. “A real man makes his woman moan, scream, come until she feels like she can’t stand another minute of pleasure. Then he makes her come more.”
Lacy melts against me, her hips matching the slow bump and grind rhythm I’m setting with my fingers. Her head falls back on her shoulders and a pleading whimper slips through her pink lips. I remove my hand from between her legs and suck the salty, sweet juices from my fingers.
We lock gazes as I finish cleaning my thick digits, Lacy practically panting with her rising lust.
“A real man lets her woman have control whenever she demands it.”
Before I can prepare myself, Lacy pushes me back onto the bed. A laugh dies on my lips as she crawls over my legs, my hips, my chest and sets that wet, puffy pussy over my face.
She’s right. I’ll give her any damn thing she wants. But this is no hardship. Lacy sitting on my face as I devour her is the stuff dreams are made of.
I snake my hands up to cup her tits, rolling the peaked tips between my fingers as I suck and lick her clit. She grips my hair at the root, holding my face tight against the very source of her desire. Soon, I’m barely moving at all. Lacy’s riding me like I’m her very own pleasure device.
Her orgasm arrives like a tidal wave, sudden and strong. Lacy makes no effort to quiet her screams, and I really don't give a shit if the entire crew on this plane knows what we're doing. I need those sounds like I need air and water. Our love is elemental, fundamental.
As she comes down from the high of her release, she slithers her body back down to line up with mine. “I’m not sure I can move after that.”
I flip our positions, pinning her underneath me. All too aware that she might still be gun shy after what that fucker Rose did to her, I make sure not to give her my whole weight. “This okay?”
The sweet smile that stretches across her face reassures me instantly. “Scott, nothing you could do would ever cause me fear. I trust you. I love you. I mean, I put up with your questionable fashion choices and endless parade of band T-shirts. If that doesn’t prove my love, I don’t know what does.”
I attack her ticklish spot, and Lacy giggles then snorts out a laugh. I swallow those happy sounds with a deep kiss.
I love all versions of this woman, the petulant brat, the savvy marketing guru, the vulnerable woman. But the silly, laughing woman beneath me now is, by far, my favorite.
When I finally let her mouth go long enough for Lacy to speak again, she smiles up at me, arching her back and pressing her hips against mine. “Being pinned to the bed by you will always be my favorite place to be.” She rolls her eyes up, thinking about her last statement. “I take that back. Draped over your lap while you spank my ass will always be my favorite place. But pinned down in bed is a close second.”
“Jesus, I can’t wait to call you my wife.”
“Let’s practice the whole consummating our union thing. Gotta make sure we have that bit down.” Lacy reaches between us, lining my cock up with her wet entrance.
As I slowly slid into her heat, the plane hits a pocket of turbulence, and gravity does the work for me. My cock thrusts into her in one rough bounce, and we both moan. “Jesus, woman, feels like coming home. Every fucking time.”
“Oh my god, enough with the sweet words. Just fuck me already.”
I can’t help but laugh. That’s my woman. Wants what she wants and won’t stop until she gets it. “You wanna be fucked? Not be made love to?”
“No. Fuck me. Like you almost lost me today.”
The words spear right to my heart, and for a moment, I’m stuck back in the fear of never seeing the woman I love again. But then the fear is gone because Lacy is right here. Beneath me. Surrounding me. And she’s not going anywhere.
Not while I have anything to say about it.
I pull out from her cunt and flip her over onto her stomach before she can protest. “I did almost lose you today.” I slam back inside her delicate body. She moans and writhes and screams beneath me. Her fingers clutching at the sheets. Banding my arms around her stomach, I pull us both up, so she is sitting on my lap, her ass cradled in my hips, her back pressed against my chest.
Lacy reaches back, hands clutching at my hair, and brings my mouth to her neck. I give her what she is silently begging for: my tongue and teeth at the sensitive spot below her ear. Snaking one hand up, I press down just beside her left breast. Right over her pounding heart.
“Feel that? How fast and hard your heart beats for me? How mine matches?” I let the silence settle around us for a moment. Lacy nods, those needy noises I love so much quieting until we are just breathing together. In sync. “We do things hard, you and me. We love hard. We work hard. We fuck hard. That’s the way it will always be.”
“Christ, how do you make fucking sound romantic?”
I just laugh and push us forward until she’s pinned under my body again. I weave our fingers together and pull her hands up over her head. She’s stretched out as far as the bed will allow. “Now you stay still, or you know what will happen.”
Lacy squirms, and I just chuckle and shake my head. Placing my knees on either side of her thighs, I leave her hands where they are and draw mine back to her round ass. Much to her dismay, Lacy’s gained a couple pounds since coming to live with me. I fucking love every single one of them. They all go straight to the round cheeks I’m currently gripping in my hands.
I swat at her ass, first one side, then the other. Nothing too hard, just warming her up. Judging by the way she’s breathing and the uncontrolled little thrust of her hips, I’d say I’m doing my job right. Spreading her apart, I peer down passed the puckered hole we’ve experimented with some here and there and then to her wet, glistening pussy.
Not wasting anymore time, it’s only a five-hour flight after all, I slam back into her channel, groaning as her walls press around my cock. With her legs pressed tight together, the fit is extra snug, and I have to take several breaths to get myself under control.
Lacy whines and tries to thrust back into me, but the position doesn’t allow her much movement.
“Don’t worry, my little brat. We’re only just getting started.”
Epilogue One
One Year Later
Lacy
The stage vibrates under my feet as the first Malfeesance show in a little over a year comes to a close. My whole body feels like it’s pulsing with the heavy beats and screaming crowd. Everything throbs.
Everything.
I’ve watched my husband play music almost daily since we got married. He’s always fiddling around on his guitar or scribbling lyrics in a journal. Usually about me.
But this, this is different. Even from two dozen feet away, I can see Scott is covered in sweat. He used to go shirtless during a lot of his shows, but I asked him to keep his shirt on. He didn’t even question it. Just agreed. Just like I no longer post pictures of myself in skimpy bikinis.
As a result, his once grey shirt looks almost black with the amount of perspiration soaking it. I should probably find it gross, but I don’t.
It’s hot.
So. Fucking. Hot.
I shift back and forth on my feet, rubbing my thighs together and suddenly hating the leather leggings I wore tonight
. They’re too constricting with all this lust pulsing through me. I should have worn a skirt or something, so I could get some air circulation to my overheating lady bits. But I wanted to look the part of a heavy metal God’s hot wife. So, leather leggings, ankle booties, and a torn Malfeesance shirt it is. And, yeah, I do look hot as hell.
Scott followed through on his promise to get me a bodyguard. Joe stands behind me about five feet, sunglasses on despite being backstage at a concert in the middle of the night. He’s kinda old, but still attractive. There was even a picture of him on some blog talking about what a daddy he was. Whatever, the dude literally never talks. But he does scare away all the riff-raff which likes to sniff around.
But right now, all I can think about is how we’ll ditch Joe the second Scott gets off stage. Because I need him. Like, stomp my foot, throw a hissy fit for some attention right this second if he doesn’t get off that damn stage and service me, neeeeed.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Scott whips around while he shreds his guitar. He winks at me, finishes his solo, then swings the axe behind his back and pulls the bottom of his shirt up to wipe at the sweat on his face. In the process, he flashes me, and only me, a bit of his washboard abs.
Fuuuuuuck.
I swear to Gucci this encore is going on much longer than necessary. I think he’s purposely trying to torture me.
Finally, after what feels like forever, the guys clasp hands at the front of the stage a take a bow, throwing guitar picks and drum sticks out to the audience. Dudes in the front row straight pummel each other to get to those little souvenirs. As the band all walk off stage, I can’t take the pressure building in my belly anymore and run three steps toward Scott, leaping onto him like a damn spider monkey and latching on with ankles locked behind his back.
“Guys, I haven’t said this in years, but the dressing room is mine tonight. Party somewhere else.” The rest of the band laughs at whatever inside joke that was, but I don't give a shit, because Scott is purposefully stalking back to the small room the guys had gotten ready in earlier.