by Beth Abbott
Nah, no way that was going to happen.
He was already feeling that tell-tale tingling in his spine that let him know he was most definitely on the clock.
Marcus picked up the pace a little, standing with his head thrown back, his eyes closed tight as he tried to hold off his orgasm.
When Sara grabbed his forearms and dug her nails in, he opened his eyes to stare at the look of agony and ecstasy on her face.
God, she was so beautiful.
As he increased the pace gradually, her gasps were the only sound in the room beyond the slapping of flesh against flesh as he drove them both higher. They were reassurance, if any was needed, that with every thrust, he was stimulating her g-spot.
Marcus wrapped her legs around his back and lowered himself forward to get a better angle, and started pounding into her, careful not to jostle their baby more than necessary.
When he felt the tingling spreading through his lower half, Marcus knew he had no more than a minute or two left.
He rubbed across her mound, and this time slipped his thumb over the hood of her clit, and pressed down, rubbing in circles, her juices helping his thumb glide over her most sensitive place.
When Sara let out a little scream and tried to thrust her hips up to meet his touch, Marcus knew she was ready to blow.
“Come for me, Sara.” He groaned. “I’m almost done.”
As he increased the pace for the last time, he pressed down harder on her clit, and with his free hand leaned forward to squeeze her breast, flicking her taut nipple as he did.
“Marcus! Aah, God!” Sara groaned, and her muscles gripped his cock like a vice, pulling him way over the edge and sending him soaring.
She was gripping his shaft so tightly he could barely thrust in and out, and it was only the flood of her juices that allowed him any sort of movement at all. The friction on his cock felt amazing, as though she held him in a two-handed grip, and as the orgasm ripped through him from head to toe, he shook as he came hard, his own fluids filling her channel.
Marcus’ body shook violently, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet. He finally stopped thrusting and pulled out quickly, afraid that he was going to collapse on top of Sara and their baby.
He flopped onto the bed beside her, pulling Sara’s trembling body into his as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.
“How do you do that to me?” He whispered raggedly.
He could feel her body heave, as she tried to get her breath back.
“Do what?” Sara finally looked up at him.
“Flip me over and turn my world upside down.” Marcus grumbled. “I swear, you make me lose all control with your little moans and groans, not to mention the way you grip my cock.”
“And that’s a bad thing, how?” She asked, her eyes shining with delight.
“Who said anything about it being a bad thing?” He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. “I just thought that after more than five years together, I’d have learned how to maintain some semblance of control around you in the bedroom. Yet here I am, older, but certainly no wiser as to how to resist your charms. You’re so gorgeous you take my breath away. You still just have to look at me and I’m hard as nails. Strip you naked and I’m ready to blow. It’s really not good for my ego.”
Marcus watched Sara’s face blush with pleasure at his words.
He knew she was already a little self-conscious about her growing baby-bump, and he was more than happy to reassure her how sexy he thought it made her look.
“I couldn’t possibly tell you my secrets.” Sara grinned. “It might break the spell I have over you.”
Marcus lifted her chin, so he could take her lips in a slow, thorough exploration. When he lifted his head, she was glassy eyed again.
“Honey, that’s one spell nobody will ever be able to break.” He reassured her. “You bewitched me the night we met in that club, and I’ve never wanted it to end.”
“That’s good.” Sara nodded, her eyes shining. “Because when Junior arrives, I’ve got you on nappy duty for the first eighteen months. By the time he’s potty trained, it’ll be time for number two.”
“Yeah?” Marcus grinned. “I can do nappies. Or should we start calling them ‘diapers’, since we’re living in the States? And, I can definitely work on getting you knocked up again. If we’ve got eighteen months to practise, I bet I’ll get it right again, when the time comes.”
Sara chuckled.
“I just bet you will.” She sighed, snuggling into him, trying to angle her baby bump so she could get as close as possible.
They lay in silence for a few minutes, until Marcus remembered how he’d found her on the stairs, chattering away to someone on the phone. If he had three guesses, he’d go for either Candy, Bella, or Hannah.
“So, who were you discussing romantic entanglements with, when I found you on the stairs?” He asked, rubbing his thumb lazily over her shoulder.
“Candy.” Sara grinned up at him. “It looks like the Colombia mission accomplished way more than we realised.”
Marcus stared down at her. Ok, so she was going to make him keep asking!
“Go on then.” He grumbled. “Fill me in on the gossip. You know you want to.”
Sara snorted.
“Seriously? You men are worse gossips than us women any day! You just want to be able to show off when we see the guys tonight, that you know something they don’t.”
“Sweetheart, it’s only called gossip when it’s women chattering away.” Marcus explained seriously. “When men are talking, it’s called ‘keeping up to date with current affairs’.”
“Really?” Sara snorted. “Well, the current ‘potential’ affairs we were discussing were between Alex and Sophia, obviously…”
“Obviously…!” Marcus rolled his eyes.
“Plus, Gregor and Tulli, if the way he looks at her is anything to go by.” Sara smiled. “And finally, there was definitely a spark of interest from Charlie when he met Lara, the middle sister.”
“Hang on a minute…” Marcus leaned back and stared at Sara. “Tulli and Lara have been through six months of hell. I can hardly see them looking to jump into relationships with men after what they’ve been through.”
Sara nodded, thoughtfully.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But from what Tulli told me, they fought back so hard at the beginning that after that the men all but left them alone.” She frowned. “I know that means they went through hell initially, but it also means that their bodies and emotions have had six months to come to terms with what happened to them. I’ll recommend counselling for them for sure, but they’ve already come a long way, all by themselves.”
“What about the youngest girl? Mischa? How is she doing today?” Marcus remembered the image of Alex and Drew helping carry her to the chopper, and both of them getting shot whilst doing it. Hell, all three of them could have died at the hands of Luis fucking Castille, and it was as much as Marcus could do not to ball his hands into fists, ready to punch something.
“Oh, we had a minor breakthrough there, as well.” Sara grinned at him. “Joel came with us, and Tulli let him visit with Mischa, when I suggested that he had a special way about him. Well, believe it or not, Mischa held his hand, and even seemed to be smiling at him while he was telling her some silly jokes.”
“Yeah? That’s amazing.” Marcus smiled.
“It really is.” Sara sighed. “I mean, she wasn’t making eye contact or talking or anything, but for day one, I thought that was awesome. Especially since yesterday in the hospital she was screaming at anyone who came near her.”
“But then, Joel is not just anyone, is he?” Marcus reminded her. “He is a very special kind of person, with a heart as big as all of Philly.”
“He is.” Sara nodded. “And, bless him, he can’t wait to visit with her tomorrow again.”
“That’s great.” Marcus tucked her into his side, and flipped the comforter up and over them.
>
“Umm, I said we’d meet up with Gregor and Tulli at Tuck’s later. The Feds are going to want to speak to them, and if Cole is prepared to meet them outside of the office, it’ll be far less stressful for Tulli.” Sara yawned. “I can finish off any last bits of my report that need adjusting at the same time.”
“Ok, I’m cool with that, on one condition.” Marcus kissed the top of Sara’s head. “That you take your hearing aids out and have a few hours sleep now. You’ve completely overdone it in the last seventy-two hours, and I want you to get some rest if you want to go out again.”
“Will you stay with me?” Sara looked up at him, her innocent expression making her look much younger than her age.
“Of course.” He grinned. “But no funny business! I’m pretty knackered myself, so could probably use a few hours rest.”
Sara pulled her hearing aids out, placed them on the bedside table, and then snuggled back into him.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t tell any of the guys you can’t get it up twice in one day.”
Marcus was just about to splutter a comment, indignantly defending his ability to make love more than once a day, when he remembered she’d taken her hearing aids out, and wouldn’t be able to hear him.
He just knew she’d done it on purpose!
Sneaky little thing!
Sneaky, sexy, gorgeous, wifely thing!
He pulled her as close as he could and closed his eyes.
He smiled over the top of her head. Damn, but he adored his medium-sized rhino!
Chapter 9 – Mexico
Luciana Vega reclined on her bed, desperate to rid herself of the headache that had been plaguing her all day.
She was horny. That was her fucking problem, or more precisely, her non-fucking problem, and for now, at least, there was not a damn thing she could do about it.
Her husband had been incarcerated for more than eight years, and his parting words to her had been typical of the guy.
“Sleep with another man, baby, and I’ll make sure you wear a smile that really does go from ear to ear!”
Yeah, Hector was a real charmer! And what was more, while she now ran the cartel in his absence, making it better and more profitable than he’d ever done, she knew that even now he kept a close watch on what she did.
He had spies watching her almost every move, that was for sure, and despite the fact that she had quietly worked to eliminate all of the men who had been close to him over the years, he still managed to know exactly what was going on.
And even from his prison cell over a thousand miles away, he was still able to reach out and yank the chains whenever he thought she was getting too much power, or becoming too independent.
Bastard!
Ok, yeah, she loved him… had done ever since her father had all but given her to him as a nervous eighteen-year-old. But then, who wouldn’t fall for the guy? He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with a side of ‘scary murdering, psycho-motherfucker’ to add to his appeal. Hector was the kind of guy who had a girl creaming just by looking at her, and he knew it.
But he was still a bastard!
The worst part was that he had been a demon lover! He loved to take those little blue pills, and then fuck her every which way for eight or even nine hours.
If he hadn’t been so damn good at it, she would never have survived!
But that just left her even more lonely when he was incarcerated.
Lonely and fucking horny. All the damn time!
She glanced at the clock. Almost six. Thank fuck for that! Just ten minutes left until she’d be put out of her misery.
Luciana had discovered very early on that she still needed sex.
Of course, there was no way she could have a man in her bed, as Hector’s threat was very real. He’d have someone take a knife to her face and widen her smile for her without skipping a heartbeat.
She’d tried getting herself off using a vibrator and a dildo, but it took so damn long to get there, and was virtually worthless in giving her any real satisfaction. In the end, she’d all but given up on masturbation.
But then Luciana had had a genius moment of clarity.
Ok, it had started with a fall from a horse, so, not exactly a moment of genius or clarity.
But when Luciana had been advised by her doctor to get a regular massage to, ease the damage she’d done to her back, she’d employed a woman so as to keep Hector happy. That was when she’d had her Eureka moment.
The woman she’d hired had proved to be extremely proficient with her hands, and after six weeks, Luciana’s back problems had all but healed.
However, after getting to know the woman, and realising that she performed other ‘services’ for her male clients, Luciana had made the woman an offer she couldn’t refuse.
It hadn’t taken the woman, Marta, long to develop a proficiency with the vibrator, meaning that once a week, Luciana could at least get some satisfaction.
This wasn’t a sexual relationship, at least not one that anyone would describe as such. Marta’s focus was on what she did with the sex-toys, and she barely touched Luciana with her hands at all.
No, this was all about Luciana’s imagination, and the fact that she didn’t have to hold the toys herself. She could close her eyes and picture it was a man holding the instruments of pleasure, and thanks to Marta’s skill, she could get off twice, sometimes three times in the hour she was supposed to be having her massage.
If Marta had been shocked in the beginning by Luciana’s suggestion, the woman had never shown it. In fact, she had been almost sympathetic. How ridiculous was that?
It was obvious to them both that neither of them was a lesbian, but even so, they learned how to perform together silently, to get Luciana what she needed.
Marta had gone out of her way to learn how to excite Luciana, making it into a labour of love to get her employer off as often and as effectively as she could. Luciana guessed that for Marta, there was an element of job satisfaction in what she did.
Luciana still found it impossible to express her thanks to the woman for all she had done for her. So, instead, she paid her well. Very well.
Marta was probably the only massage therapist within fifty miles whose children went to private school, and whose husband could give up work to look after the house.
At the knock on the door, she glanced up. It was still a few minutes before six, and Marta was never early.
Still wearing her jeans and a blouse, she rolled off the bed and wandered to her dressing table, pulling a cigarette from the silver box there, and lighting it.
“Come in.” She called, annoyed to think someone was going to interrupt her when she was so close to getting what she needed.
The door opened, and Jesus, her husband’s piece of shit brother walked in, along with three of his men.
“I’m busy, Jesus.” She said angrily. “My back has been in pieces all day, and my masseuse will be here any minute to try and fix it for me.”
“Sorry to bother you, sister.” Jesus bowed his head by way of an apology, but Luciana knew his attitude was as fake as his use of the word ‘sister’. She was the only thing that stood in his way from taking over the cartel in his brother’s absence, so ‘sister’ was probably the ultimate irony when it came to name-calling.
“We have had a message come from our brothers in the south. Something I thought you would want to hear straight away.” He pulled a face which Luciana didn’t recognise.
He was obviously trying to convey some sort of emotion, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Pain, maybe?
“Jesus, I’ve told you, I have an appointment in…” She glanced up at the clock in annoyance. “Ninety seconds. Spit it out, would you?”
Jesus held his hands wide and shrugged.
“Sister, there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll just, as you say, spit it out.” He grimaced. “It’s your father, my dear. He’s dead, God rest his soul.”
Luciana’s breath caught in her chest, burning a hole through her ribcage in an attempt to escape.
Her father was invincible. Was powerful beyond belief. Was healthy as a horse!
She managed to exhale slowly, but her head was spinning with a million different thoughts.
She had to focus on what mattered. Not her heart, and certainly not her emotions. What mattered most was the position she had worked so hard to carve out and hold onto in her husband’s cartel.
Her father was a big part of the reason she held so much power. Nobody would mess with her when they knew they’d have both Hector and her papa to answer to.
Without him, she was vulnerable.
She’d have to work harder to appear more brutal. She would have to be more vicious and violent than she’d ever been, and boy, would that be saying something.
Her left hand stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, as the fingers of her right hand closed around the gun she always kept on her desk.
“How?” The word was clipped, and sounded loud in the silence, even though she’d barely whispered it. “How did he die?”
“He was murdered, sister. Shot many times in the face.”
The noise by the doorway interrupted the screaming in Luciana’s head. She just wanted it to stop. The screaming and the noise.
Without hesitation, she lifted the gun and pointed at the door, firing two shots without caring who was standing there.
The only two people she loved were her father and Hector. One was dead, and the other was locked up. What did any of it matter anymore?
The feminine gasp of breath brought Luciana out of her trance, and her head span around to see who had made the noise.
Marta stood leaning against the doorframe, staring at her in surprise, while her hands clutched her abdomen where her white tunic was rapidly turning red with her blood.
Without speaking, Marta slid down the wall, leaving a smear of deep red blood as she went, proof that at least one of the bullets had gone right through her stomach and out the other side.
Luciana couldn’t move, partly due to the shock of the news of her father’s death, but partly because she had just shot the one person who had been kinder to her, been more of a friend to her than anyone else in her adult life.