by K. Marie
“Tricks? Only if you’re into that sort of thing,” I retorted playfully.
“I’m definitely into that sort of thing.”
I gave him a sexy smile. “That makes two of us. So, why don’t we skip the dinner and the movie and jump straight to the good part?”
Grinning, Garland clasped my hand and led me across the deck of his newest acquisition; a one-hundred-fifty-foot yacht that he’d chosen to name after his second son. The Roman.
Tonight is my first time on it; our first night on it together. And like his previous yacht, this baby was a total luxury on water.
Everything gleamed as we made our way through the main cabin and up one level to the stateroom, the smell of newly-minted everything following us. Unlike the previous stateroom that was split-level, this one was a single-level work of art and was about twenty-five percent larger.
Strolling over to the bed, I started to toe-off the sexy, nude Valentino heels that I’d paired with a sexy white dress.
“Leave them on,” Garland instructed, halting my attempt.
I did as asked—going for the zipper of my dress instead.
“Leave that on as well,” Garland instructed once again.
I breathed a laugh. “It’s going to be a bit difficult to accomplish our goal if I keep everything on.”
“I do not intend for you to leave everything on,” Garland murmured, prowling towards me, “I intend to take everything off.”
Oh. I’ve got no problems with that.
As I stood expectedly, Garland lifted a hand and glided it caressingly along the slope of my shoulder before palming the back of my neck. Lowering his mouth to mine, he gave me the gentlest of kisses, before pressing his lips more firmly and demanding. I moaned as his hand slithered down to my back, knuckles brushing the bare skin exposed by the dress as he went for the zipper. A slight tug had it sliding silently free.
Warm hands traced my skin as the material was peeled away from my body and flowed down onto the carpeted floor. Underneath the dress, I wore matching teal and black panties and bra; both had so many cut-outs and strings that their actual function was no more than cosmetic. Garland took a step back to admire, eyes going quickly from mere admiration to pure lust.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, before stepping away from me and trekking over to the dresser. He returned a second later with his phone in his hand.
As I stood watching him curiously, he tapped a button on his phone then brought it up to eye-level and snapped a picture.
Seriously?
“What was that?” I asked bafflingly. He’d never taken almost nude photos of me before.
“Turn around,” he directed instead of answering.
“Uh, not until you explain your new hobby of pornography.”
“You ever hear the saying, ‘take a picture, it lasts longer’? Humor me.”
I eyed him suspiciously but reluctantly complied. I had no problem with him having racy photos of me, it was just strange, is all.
Garland gave a groan of appreciation as he presumably snapped more pics, so I gave him something to really groan over and started assuming sexy poses. If I was going to do this thing, I might as well make it worthwhile.
When Garland murmured a heated expletive under his breath in reaction, I cheesed proudly, imagining I made quite the visual in my barely-there lingerie and Valentino’s.
“Turn around and do that again,” he ordered in a raspy voice.
I spun around slowly and did as asked, enthusiastically warming to my role as he snapped several more pics. When Garland lowered his phone, he stood gazing at me intently several long seconds before walking over to place it back on the dresser.
“That was interesting,” I remarked, as he moved back over to me.
“A lot more interesting than I imagined,” Garland murmured, coming to stand behind me. Grasping my waist, he pulled me against him and growled, “That was so fucking sexy.”
As a proud grin stretched my face, his hands began traveling up my body until his palms came to rest on my breast. A low moan escaped my throat as he caressed them through the delicate lace and satin, thumbs grazing the sensitive nipples as his mouth lowered to skim along my neck.
“What are you going to do with them?” I whispered, eyes fluttering closed.
Garland let one of his hands travel down my body, tracing a gentle finger from my cleavage to my belly button, then moving even lower. I moaned when it slipped inside my panties.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked silkily, a finger stroking my clit.
“Yes…” I moaned in answer, knees growing week.
Garland glided his other hand from my breast to come rest on my stomach. “I learned from experience, six weeks without fucking can feel like an eternity. This way, I’ll have something sexy to stroke my cock to when I can’t have the real thing,” he whispered next to my ear.
Uh. My stomach did a little flip.
“Did you think I hadn’t noticed? Your daily morning ritual of burying your head inside the toilet?” he murmured, fingers dancing across my still flat belly. “I notice everything, sweetheart, especially your increase in cup-size.”
Dammit. Yes, I had just found out I was knocked up again, eight months after giving birth to Roman. It was four months sooner than I planned—than recommended, but, I was happy about it.
“How do you feel about that?” I whispered-moaned, barely managing to stay upright as his finger did wicked things to my clit.
“I feel like fucking you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m fucking ecstatic.”
“Good…me too…”
“Go lie on the bed.”
I breathed a laugh. “That is the exact reason I keep finding myself in this condition.”
* * *
THE END
Coming Soon!
Want more of
The Russian Engagement Series?
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You’re in luck!
Welcome to Viktor’s world.
Will Viktor learn he’s Garlands brother?
Did the Organization end with Romanovich’s death?
* * *
Find out in the third installment of the series.
Coming 2019
* * *
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK
AT K. MARIE’S NEXT PROJECT
“The HitMom”
Chapter One
The Hitmom
by K. Marie
H A R M O N Y
Some might judge me the world’s worst mother, though, not those who greeted me with warm, welcoming smiles as I strolled casually by them at the Edgewater Park today.
I carried a large tote bag in one hand and clutched a child-sized hand in the other. To the casual observer, I was just one of the crew; another overworked and under-appreciated mom, one who sought a couple of hours outside the systematic prison that we called home.
Here, I belonged. I fit right in with my black, well-worn yoga pants, athletic jacket, and three-year-old Nikes. I was an empathetic creature who gets it. I too, rose each morning to daily complaints from sullen children who lamented the necessity of attending school. I was also a slave to endless loads of laundry, meal preparations, cleaning up other people’s messes, and the dreaded car-pool. It felt nice to fit in somewhere—to be an accepted member of a clan that I had secretly termed “The League of Martyrs.” Except, today; unbeknownst to them, I was their worst nightmare.
Today was a day like any other. The sun shone brightly in the east, and the birds twittered happily in the trees along the busy, energetic walk path. Noise from street traffic hummed loudly in the distance while the occasional tinkle of laughter or wail of a cry pierced the air around me. But, I continue walking steadily with my eyes trained on the figure up ahead; barely noticing that the unseasonably warm April day carried with it the perfume of newly bloomed flowers on a gentle breeze.
Yes, today was a day like any other; excep
t for me, it served as yet another test. A grotesque reminder of the high price I’ve had to pay for my very life—the high price I’ve paid for Teddy’s life. Theodore; of Greek origin, meant “Gift of God.” My four-year-old son was given that name at birth, as his existence was nothing short of a miracle.
“Can I do it now, mommy?” my son asked, impatient to let loose with his new toy. It was a high-tech drone that was far too expensive to have been gifted to a child.
“Just a little further, sweetheart—I promise,” I told him, keeping my focus on the target.
Teddy groaned his disapproval. About two-hundred feet ahead, the man finally slowed to a stop in front of a park bench. Removing an old hankie from his pants pocket, he wiped the space before taking his seat. It was a regular routine; the same one I’d seen him perform the past two days. Every day at precisely 12:30 p.m., Henry L. Weiss; attorney extraordinaire, took his lunch break in the park located almost two blocks from his office.
I looked on as he opened the crinkled brown paper bag that he always carried and pulled out a sandwich of unknown composition.
“Okay Teddy, we can do it here,” I told my son, pointing to a patch of grass about fifteen feet away.
“Yay!” he cheered loudly, running ahead of me.
Today’s outing served two purposes, an opportunity for Teddy to try out his new toy—as well as the completion of a job for me. Yes, I brought my son to work with me. Don’t judge—you have no idea the shit I’ve been through.
However, I would never do anything to put Teddy in danger. To the casual observer, we were just a mother and son out enjoying a beautiful day in the park. Truth is; I was probably the most dangerous thing out here.
“We’ll set it up here,” I told Teddy.
Reaching into the floral printed tote, I removed the drone, careful not to get its various protruding parts caught on the straps.
“Let me do it! I won’t break it—I promise,” he pleaded, hopping from foot-to-foot in anticipation. I smiled at him affectionately, his enthusiasm contagious.
Unfolding the gadget, I extended its four legs with propellers attached—setting it up for flight. The Quadcopter drone had been gifted to Teddy by his ‘Uncle Gray’; an exorbitantly expensive gift randomly given for no particular reason. At least, it seemed random at the time. But Grayson never does anything without a purpose. Sure, he’s given Teddy gifts before; but he’d intended that this one served a dual purpose.
Real fucking thoughtful of him.
“We’re all set!” I announced, “Grab the remote and let’s get this baby in the air.”
I double-checked the camera; ensuring its stability, though I knew it wasn’t likely to malfunction during flight. Grayson buys only the best. The Quadcopter could fly up to 40 mph and be controlled from as far away as four miles.
“Okay, here we go! Place your hands here, and then use your thumbs to move the controls,” I instructed my son.
I had already tried out the drone three days ago, but it would be Teddy’s first time using it. I demonstrated for him, then stepped back to watch as he worked his magic. Teddy is an intelligent child, wise beyond his four years. I always joked that he was once a God in another life and that that explained his old soul.
“It’s flying!” Teddy shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.
“Steady, little one; you’ve got to keep it steady so that it doesn’t crash,” I cautioned.
“Can I make it go faster?” he asked.
“Yes, but only a little, you must learn to control it before you start breaking speed laws,” I joked.
As the drone moved drunkenly through the air, I divided my attention between it and the target. Weiss usually stayed in the park for only half an hour before returning to the office—using the other half-hour of his break for travel time.
“That’s it, keep it steady!” I called out, wincing when the Quadcopter narrowly missed a tree branch.
I let Teddy fly the drone another couple of minutes before it was my turn. I needed to get the job done before Weiss packed-up for the day.
“Aww, can’t I do it longer?” he asked, face a study in disappointment.
I smiled, knowing that he strategically used the sad puppy-dog face to get his own way. And it usually worked. “I’m going to show you how it’s done, youngster; and then you can give it another try, how’s that?” I offered.
“Yes!” he shouted in answer, the puppy-dog face instantly vanishing.
I took over the controls, maneuvering the drone in Weiss’s direction, flying it a little higher than Teddy had.
“Whoa! Look at it go!” My son squealed excitedly.
I took the drone past Weiss a couple of times, recording as it went—snapping several still-shots. I then sent it flying in the opposite direction before bringing it back around towards Weiss again; but much lower this time. As it sped pass, I pressed the button to release the micro-dart; rapidly propelling it about twenty feet through the air and into Weiss’s neck.
Bullseye.
I saw his hand fly to his neck—swatting at it, the sting probably much like that of a bee.
I sped up the return flight of the drone; flying it high and fast, wanting it out of the vicinity as quickly as possible.
Weiss fingered the dart—realizing there was something actually stuck in his neck, and then pulled it out. He stared at the micro-dart in puzzlement—its size little more than that of a pushpin, but deceptively lethal. It had already released a fatal dose of a compound that wouldn’t take its full effect for several hours. His would be a gradual but horrible death.
“Okay big guy, you’re up again,” I told Teddy, bringing the drone back into range.
“Can I fly it high too?” he asked; a hopeful look on his adorable face.
“Just a little higher, I don’t want it getting stuck in the trees,” I allowed.
After a moment, I focused my attention back on Weiss and became aware that Teddy and I had drawn a small audience. Several people were standing around watching the flight of the drone. Time to go.
The last thing I needed was for any of these people remembering my face.
“Okay munchkin—it’s time to end flight lessons for today,” I told my son, moving to grab the tote.
I quickly packed the drone away and felt a sense of relief when the onlookers started to disperse, no longer having anything left to gawk at.
“Can we do it again tomorrow?” Teddy asked.
“We’ll see, munchkin, it depends on the weather,” I lied. I had no intention of ever returning here.
It was a necessary lie, of course. But then, I had been lying to my son his entire life. It was safer that way.
Coming Soon!
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About the Author
An avid reader, K. Marie fell in love with books when a good friend bequeathed her with her very first Harlequin Romance novel. An admitted sucker for happily-ever-after, she loves nothing more than a gripping tale rife with hunky heroes, feisty heroines, and lots of drama. Reading has always been her escape, but writing is her passion. So, it was only natural that she’d one day create her own steamy tale of sex, lies, love, and redemption.
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K. Marie is a self-professed feminist who believes in indulging and catering to the female fantasy in an unabashed and unapologetic fashion.
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When not writing, she can be found ranting and raving at cable news, deeply engrossed in politics; doing DIY projects, or planning her next vacation.
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