“Kids?” She cast him a dubious sideways glance. “How many are you planning?”
“As many as you’ll give me,” Matt responded without missing a beat.
Grace paused, surveying the architectural details of the house before them. There was a rhythm to the horizontal and vertical planes throughout the stone-and-siding façade. An impressive, sloping overhang roof typical of the style crowned an already impressive structure.
“Let’s go in,” he said.
“Uh, isn’t there supposed to be a realtor?”
“The owner is a friend of mine.”
“Ah,” Grace remarked with a raised brow. “This house looks new.”
“Well it hasn’t been lived in,” Matt said as he unlocked the heavy mahogany door. “I think he had it built two years ago but decided it was too expensive to keep as a weekend getaway home.”
“A weekend home?” Grace asked as they stepped into the foyer. “There must be what? Five bedrooms in this place?”
“Six,” Matt corrected. Grace pulled away from him and he let her go. It was a pleasure to stand back and watch the entranced look on her face as she took in the open interior space, the vaulted ceilings, and the wall of windows that made up the back of the house that led out to the patio.
“Matt, this is beautiful,” she breathed in awe.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, but Grace didn’t hear him as she moved further into the house. He fell back two steps, admiring the sway of her hips. His wife had a great ass after all, and right then, he was already imagining bending her over the kitchen’s center island and fucking her from behind.
“Maaaatt …” Grace’s censuring, teasing tone broke through his lascivious thoughts. Her gleaming eyes told him she knew exactly where the trajectory of his thoughts had been. “Are you even looking at the house?”
“I’ve already seen it,” he smirked. “The current view is more enjoyable.”
Grace rolled her eyes and pivoted around to continue her exploration. After almost forty-five minutes of assessing every nook, cranny, and outside space, she turned to him, barely containing her excitement before an anxious look crossed her face.
“Can we afford this?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip. “I do have a respectable savings account, but I’m not sure—”
“Grace,” he stopped her before she stressed further about money. “What did I tell you from the start? Anything to do with shelter, clothing, and food, I’m paying for it.”
“I never agreed to that,” she replied pertly.
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “You, Mrs. Foster, have got to let me take care of you. All you have to say is yes to this house.”
“I can see this as our home,” she smiled up at him. “I see our little ones running around. How about you, baby? Can you see this as our home?”
Matt looked around. The house was magnificent, but it was only because he could picture Grace in it. He stared at his wife, losing himself in her gorgeous green eyes.
“Doesn’t matter where we are,” he said softly, lightly pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re my home, babe.”
*****
Two months later
Matt waited on his Harley at the side of a deserted road. Admiral Benjamin Porter’s request for a meeting wasn’t the best of timing since there was a housewarming party currently going on at his and Grace’s new home, but the admiral waited for no one. Matt watched a black Suburban pull up right across from him. Matt turned off his bike and engaged the kickstand, then crossed the road to get into the SUV’s passenger side.
Admiral Porter was responsible for many successful coups in the CIA. He was a master manipulator, yet everything he did was for the greater good. He was a legend within the agency, and a myth outside of it. He was a man of medium build, almost sixty, with salt and pepper hair. It was easy to underestimate him, but he was as deadly as any Navy SEAL.
“It’s done,” the admiral said when Matt shut the door of the Suburban.
“Moreno and his sons won’t come after Grace?”
“Well, they couldn’t because they’re all dead.”
“What?” Matt muttered in stunned surprise.
“Do you honestly think, Foster, that we’re going to let them get away with teaming up with ISIS to attack a U.S. airport?”
“So the Carillo Cartel …”
“Is finished,” Porter confirmed. “That should stem the flow of heroin into the country as well as take a chunk out of the global heroin market.”
“ISIS finances will take a hit.”
“Exactly.”
“The Carillo Cartel is like a Hydra,” Matt said. “Take out one head and another will spring up in its place. How did you do it?”
“We had good intel once we focused our resources on it. We’ve identified every single one of their inner circle and then some. We crippled their communications and their known infrastructure. We also froze their finances since we have a list of their current money launderers, thanks to your wife.”
“That must have been quite an op. So, who did it? DEA? FBI?”
“We had DEVGRU and SEAL Team 3,” the admiral smiled enigmatically. “The Guardians took the lead.”
“The cartel didn’t stand a chance,” Matt remarked. No one did against Viktor Baran. The man and his crew were a legend in their own right.
“The Carillo Cartel had never been high on the CIA’s list. Moreno and his sons were idiots to align themselves with ISIS. That catapulted them straight to the agency’s high priority,” the admiral said. “So, how’s the new house?”
Matt had a whiplash at the sudden change of subject. “We’re having a housewarming party right now.”
The admiral didn’t say anything.
Shit. Did the admiral want an invite?
“Do you want to stop by for a drink?” Matt forced himself to ask.
The admiral chuckled. “No, I’ve got to get going. Haven’t seen my woman in weeks.”
It was weird thinking of the admiral with a woman. What woman would put up with Porter anyway? Of course, Matt was sure many people had the same thoughts about him.
“I expect an invitation to the wedding though.”
“Uh …”
“The one you’re having two weeks from now.”
This time Matt didn’t say anything because he was simply dumbstruck about why Porter even concerned himself with these things. Didn’t he have a world to save?
“I’m getting out of the game soon, Foster,” the admiral said as if reading his mind. “Pru is never going to marry me as long as I have to keep secrets from her and disappear for weeks on end.”
Matt was trying to figure out if he’d entered an alternate universe. “And you’re telling me this because?”
The admiral grinned then shrugged. “Get out of here, Foster. Go back to your wife before she calls off the wedding.”
Matt chuckled. “Doesn’t matter. She’s already married to me.” He opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle.
When Matt got back on his bike, the admiral lowered his window.
“By the way, Foster, you’re probably gonna hear it tonight or tomorrow—Hector Vargas got shanked in prison earlier this afternoon. He’s dead,” Porter informed him casually.
“Come again?” Matt frowned, not sure if he heard the other man correctly.
“Don’t forget my wedding invitation,” the admiral said instead before rolling up his window and pulling away from the shoulder.
Matt sat on his bike for long minutes as he absorbed all the news he’d just heard. It was hard to believe what the admiral was telling him, but the implication was clear.
His wife would never have to look over her shoulder again.
Grace was truly free.
EPILOGUE
Nine months later
Grace
“Oh, God!”
“Shh… babe, you’ll wake up Ellie,” Matt’s controlled groan sounded in my ear as he shoved himself a
ll the way inside me. Warm spurts of his cum coated my already slick channel, but there was no doubt I was deliciously filled and sated by my husband’s vigorous fucking. Because there was no other word for the way Matt took me tonight.
It wasn’t making love.
It wasn’t simply sex.
It was fucking.
Hard.
Arduous.
Primal.
“You okay?” he whispered after the last spasms of his own climax faded away. He was still breathing hard, both of us coated with a sheen of sweat with his weight almost crushing me, but I didn’t mind.
“More than okay,” I replied softly and smiled. My face must have shown just how satisfied I was, because Matt grinned crookedly. He propped himself on his elbows and stroked my hair away from my face before he cupped my chin and kissed me lightly.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“Love you too, baby,” I responded languidly.
He moved and we both moaned because his shaft was planted as deep as ever, and my legs were still wrapped around him. Tiny bursts of pleasure contracted my core around him.
“Shit, that felt too good,” he growled.
I gasped out a laugh, because, like him, I was still very sensitive.
We needed this connection. I needed Matt to take me like he couldn’t get enough of me. A few months before I’d given birth to Ellie, and for six weeks after the doctor had given the go ahead to resume sexual intercourse, Matt seemed to have forgotten how to fuck me hard. He’d been gentle in his lovemaking, and I felt his ripple of fear in the way he took me, as if he was afraid of breaking me or hurting the baby. Of course, directly after I’d had Ellie, I thought I’d never want to have sex again.
Every part of me was horribly bloated, but body image was the least of my concerns.
At first.
By the time I was physically capable of having sex, my mental readiness was zilch. So, Matt had changed tactics and had been gentle and tender in the way he’d coax me into climax. He’d even allowed me to keep myself covered, but tonight he’d had enough.
I lowered a sleeping Ellie to the crib and backed away from the nursery. I entered the master bedroom and looked at the clock. I had at least two hours before my three-month-old baby’s next feeding. I was more or less rested today. Millie came by and told me to catch up on sleep while she watched the baby. I had some breast milk saved up, so she was able to feed Ellie while I had six solid hours of dead-to-the-world slumber.
I wasn’t too tired to pamper myself. I stayed in the shower longer, managed to actually dry my hair properly and slather a good amount of lotion on my skin. I stared at my feet. Despite needing a pedicure, I almost felt like a desirable woman again and not simply a worn-out new mom. As I stepped out of the bathroom, Matt stepped into the bedroom, closing the door with a decisive click. A feral gleam replaced the tender look that had been in his eyes these past few weeks. In fact, I experienced déjà vu to our time at the B&B.
“I thought you were going for beers with Axe,” I said as a frisson of arousal shot straight to my pussy at his unwavering gaze.
He had not had a boy’s night out since Ellie was born, so I texted him that since I was well-rested, thanks to Millie, he could take a break himself.
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pissed at you.”
“What?”
“You think the first time my wife is feeling ‘refreshed and more like herself’,” he advanced toward me as he repeated the words from my text message to him and continued, “I was going to take off to be with one of the boys?”
“Well …” I started, undecided whether I wanted to run away and lock myself in the bathroom or drop to my knees and suck his cock. I was definitely feeling more like my lusty self around this man. Lord, the look in his eyes was pure carnal hunger. And as his heated gaze traveled down my body and up again, my nipples ached and my core twitched. His inflamed perusal rested on my chest, and I realized my robe had come partially undone, revealing the globes of my heavy breasts which had become more apparent with my panting breath.
A low growl rumbled from his throat. He stopped a foot away from me, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Grace,” he rasped. “I can fucking see your nipples … are you trying to drive me mad?”
I grew more aroused as I saw the outline of his erection against his jeans.
“Take off your robe,” he demanded, his own breathing becoming fractured.
Hesitation on my part only fueled his fire. “Never. Hide. That body of yours from me again. Got it?”
“It’s my body,” I retorted even as I could feel my wetness slide down my inner thighs. Dammit, take me already. But somewhere deep inside was the thrill of pushing him to the edge.
“I’ll say this one more time, gypsy,” he said softly but not without menace. “Take. It. Off. Give me what’s mine.”
Eyes locked, I slipped the robe off and let it slide to the floor.
Matt’s eyes flared before I found myself pushed back on the bed. Somehow, he had lost his shirt. My butt was dragged to the edge of the mattress, he sank to his knees, my legs were thrown over his shoulders, and, with another growl, he buried his head between my thighs. He attacked my swollen clit and thrust his tongue into my opening. I moaned and pushed my hips into his mouth, and he responded with maddening flicks of his tongue before he pumped two fingers inside me. Then he sucked my clit hard and I cried out as my orgasm swept through me. His mouth was instantly on mine, silencing the sobs of my release as he deftly massaged my pussy with his magical fingers to prolong my pleasure.
When the throbbing in my pussy ebbed, I lost the warmth of my husband’s body as he stood up and chucked the rest of his clothes off. My mouth watered at the sight of his aroused cock. It looked angry and purplish, and I was imagining it pounding the shit out of me.
I wanted him inside me.
Now.
“I’m going to take you hard,” he warned as his famished gaze raked my body like a feast before a starved man. He smirked. “But you’ve got to promise to keep your voice down because I don’t want to wake Ellie before I’ve fucked her mom sideways.”
With my butt hanging off the side of the bed, he lifted my legs until I was supported by my shoulders.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Just fuck me,” I begged.
“With pleasure,” he hissed as he drove himself straight to the hilt. His lips curled into a snarl as he pummeled into my body. His cock powered into me with no mercy, and I had to grip the covers to stay on the bed. Matt was breathing hard, his grunts controlled, his muscles bunching and cording. He was beautiful and he was mine. He was fucking me as if he owned me, and he did. Suddenly, my body catapulted up, and my hands clutched at his shoulders. With him still embedded inside me, he slammed me against the wall.
He pounded me hard and fast.
“I thought … Ah!”—I broke off after a particularly deep thrust—“We should be quiet …”
His eyes burned through me.
“We are,” he grunted.
“Or we’re trying to,” he choked out.
“Matt … oh, my God!” His girth stretched my sensitive nerve endings. My vision blurred as I threw back my head and banged the wall.
Matt cursed as I pulsed around him. I protested incoherently when he pulled out of me, vaguely comprehending that we were moving around the room until he dropped me on the bed. He covered me once more with his body, spread me wide, and plowed back into my pussy.
“You’re gonna feel me for days,” he promised hoarsely. “That’s it, gypsy. Open those legs and give me what’s mine!”
“Oh, God!”
And that was how I got blissfully fucked. Matt shifted to my side and I loathed to lose the feel of him inside me. I tensed when his fingers traced the length of my body, suddenly self-conscious because I had not lost all the baby weight.
“Let me get my robe,” I said and then squeaked when he pinned me to the bed once more, h
overing above me, glaring at me in all his alpha male glory.
“Stop,” he growled. “Stop hiding this amazing body from me.”
If it was anyone else, I would have snorted, thinking it was an attempt to make me feel better. But this was Matt. He was anything if not blunt. Besides, the fury blazing in his eyes gave me pause. “My body isn’t what it used to be,” I offered lamely.
“You’re right,” he agreed huskily, his hand resting on my still-rounded belly. “You gave me a beautiful daughter with this body. It’s fucking hot knowing I’ve put my baby inside you.” His anger faded to be replaced by a warm melting gaze. “I could do nothing but worship you.”
Realization dawned on me. “You used to fuck me hard before I hit seven months and then you toned down your lovemaking quite a bit.”
He frowned. “Did you think I desired you less?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I thought you were afraid to hurt me and Ellie.”
“Maybe in the back of my mind,” he conceded as he eased off me and propped up on an elbow. “I’d say it’s more because I was in awe of my woman and the life growing inside her. You were like this goddess and I’d knocked you up. I was definitely feeling damned euphoric and accomplished.” He smirked.“There are many ways I love to fuck you, Grace. Do you want me to count the ways?”
“Way poetic there, husband,” I laughed.
“Hey,” his voice turned serious. “I’m not insensitive to how you feel about your body. No, don’t say anything … I’ve made it my business to make you happy, Grace, and that includes learning what makes you tick, what makes you the woman you are. You’re not just someone convenient to stick my dick in.” He chuckled when I glared at him. “Hey, now, let me finish …”
I smacked him—playfully of course—because I knew how my husband tried to make sexual jokes when he was struggling to tell me how he felt. He wasn’t a man of tender words, but more a man of action. But he understood that, sometimes, things needed saying and that was why I loved him.
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