by Amber Malloy
“In the past, you always used burners so they couldn’t track you, right?”
“But you didn’t buy me a burner.” Remy popped the buttons to her dress.
Rooted to his spot, the horny teenager who squatted inside him wanted to dork out and pounce. Fancy lace panties hid the sight of her hopefully glistening pussy. Wild curls, pouty lips and big tits forced his mind to short circuit at the image of his hot wife in front of him.
Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move, he chanted in his head. Once he touched any part of her, the conversation would officially be over.
“Supastar.” Remy placed her sandal-covered foot across his leg and wiggled her fuchsia-painted toes. “You want to help a girl out?” She nodded at her panties.
“But if I bought you a burner…” He rubbed his hand over his crotch. His cock begged to be freed.
With a sigh, she lifted her hips and slid the lacy boy shorts down without waiting for him to assist. “It doesn’t matter now. They can just stake out the condo.”
Knox groaned. He knew he’d fucked up. Selfish and stupid, he hadn’t thought that through. Since pretending to make his wife jealous ranked red on the idiot meter, he felt foolish. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known how to get her attention any other way. Remy’s lips were on top of his before he could encourage her to hop on the next plane out of there.
Ideally, he wanted her to stay with his parents, yet she hadn’t stuck to that plan during their first year of marriage. Cupping the curve of her ass, he helped her over the console and touched the tip of his tongue with hers. She grabbed the crotch of his pants. “So what are your plans after this?” Remy whispered next to his lips.
Amused by her question, he smirked. “I’ve got clothes in my locker.” She was probably worried about her pussy juices on his sweatpants, but he wanted to assure her that he couldn’t care less. Grabbing the back of her head, he smashed his lips against hers to deepen their connection. Slow and sweet morphed quickly into a feverish energy.
As he lifted his hips, she made fast work of his pants. “Maybe you should turn around,” he suggested. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His custom-built SUV accommodated him, but adding Remy to his seat would be one hell of a tight fit.
Several awesome scents wafted from her hot little body—a calming vanilla aroma drifted from her breasts, while a fresh-baked cookie scent swirled around her wild curls. Dipping his head into her round tits, he breathed in her sweet smell. She was sexy and lush in all the right places, and he needed her in the worst way.
“Nah, what’s a little pain?” Remy lifted up her hips and slammed herself down on his cock. “Oh fuck!” she cried.
Unable to move, he sucked in a breath at the tight warmth that enveloped him. Dropping his head lower, he brushed his lips across her nipple. He wanted to feel it pebble against his tongue before he sucked on her hard bud.
“Hmm-m,” she moaned. Knox shoved the left and right breasts together. Motor-boating, he went back and forth from one to the other. As he got lost in the snug fit of her pussy, every one of his senses pinged off the charts.
Up and down, she worked his cock. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back and sucked on her neck.
Remy relinquished a strangled sob. He had heard this type of cry before. Soon, tears would follow. In the past he would have stopped everything, which made matters worse. If nothing else, Knox was a quick learner. He held tight to the back of her neck and pumped.
With very little room, he thrust into her. “Harder,” she moaned through the tears. Remy arched her back, which brought a perfect breast directly to his lips. He sucked her nipple and pummeled her pussy at the same time. As her pussy walls tightened around his shaft, she screamed. The amazing friction knocked off his concentration, forcing him to explode inside her.
White stars floated in front of him. She had juiced his cock so hard that he couldn’t focus. Clutching her tight, he tried to talk himself back into the worldly plane of existence.
“Hey,” he huffed, still not completely in control of all of his faculties. Knox nudged her head up so he could peer into her eyes. He used his thumb to brush a tear away from her cheek. “What’s going on?”
Remy’s lips parted but no words came out. Glancing over his shoulder to the back of the truck, she slowly lifted herself off him. “Guards coming.” She threw him a lopsided grin. “Try to be convincing.” She quickly buttoned her dress and rolled down the window, probably to air out the smell of sex from the truck.
Slapped in the face by that high school detention feeling, he struggled with his pants and opened the truck’s door to step out.
Chapter Fifteen
After a grueling gym session, he had taken solace in the four walls of his air-conditioned condo. Knox set his bag down and slipped off his shirt. Remy had a day-in-the-life interview with an indie rock band. As far as he could tell, she hated the confined structure of a schedule. Snagging his tablet from the coffee table, he headed into the kitchen and pressed the FaceTime button.
“Son,” his dad answered. Knox plucked a Granny Smith out of the basket and popped the shiny green fruit into his mouth. Turning the screen toward the floor-to-ceiling window, he let his father see the coast, which was nothing less than awesome as the sun set on Lake Michigan. “Très magnifique.” The old man sighed wistfully.
“Papa”—he turned the screen back toward him—“why did you allow our marriage certificate to be released?” The question had nagged at him for months. He had searched for someone to blame beside himself. At the moment, his father made the perfect target.
The kind man tilted his head to the side and peered into the screen. “Son, your stupid antics with the press put us all at risk. Did you forget I’m also a pretty big deal?”
Knox rarely messed up. Unfortunately, the one time that he had kept biting him in the ass. “I have to go to football camp… I’m leaving soon.”
“Ah-h.” His father pushed his glasses onto his head to rub the bridge of his nose. “Take her with you.”
“I can’t. No spouses are allowed.”
“Remy is special.” The old man chuckled.
“She is, but…” Four weeks was simply too long to be away from her.
“Gavin, you’re brilliant and kind, but you tend to look the other way when you’re displeased. You should have never played games with the tabloids.”
Rolling his eyes, Knox groaned. Not in the mood for a lecture, he chomped on his apple.
“Eh-eh.” Dad shook his finger at the screen. “You asked for it, so you hear me out. For years, Remy has sent her best photos to your mama. They made a game of it. She would guess which one the editor wanted. Well, once you decided to—what do the kids say?—test your wife’s mob ties?”
“Gangsta, Dad,” Knox corrected him. “Test her gangsta.”
The old man chuckled. "She stopped contacting us entirely.”
“Okay”—Knox held up his hand—“I got it.”
“No, you don’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We’re her only family, and if she cuts off contact then poof!” He wiped his hands clean. “There goes the love of your life.”
Knox dropped his head into his hands. The old man could always lay one heck of a guilt trip on him.
“That stubborn streak.” Dad wagged his finger at the screen. “You got that from your mama. But,” he said with a slight shake in his voice, “Remy’s probably in more danger now than ever.”
Brooks had transformed himself into a present-day Dorian Gray. No one would believe that the congressman was actually the devil.
“Face it and fix it. Understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Knox answered, automatically reverting back to his adolescent self.
“Now, how is my request for grandchildren going?” His dad flipped his glasses down and smiled at the screen.
“Working on it, old man.” Hearing the sound of Remy’s keys, Knox glanced at the door. She stepped into the condo.
“
Is that Remy? Your mama wants to speak with her.”
Remy shook her head in response to his dad’s request.
“No, Papa,” he turned his attention back to the screen, “I thought I heard something, but I was wrong.”
“Tell Remy to call. Bonne nuit,” Dad said goodbye. As he disconnected from FaceTime, Remy stepped into the living room.
First shoes, pants or skirt…then her magic trick with the bra. If Remy’s clothes were discarded in less than twenty seconds, that meant she had a crap ton of stuff on her mind, none of which she would share with him.
“Hey, you got a minute?” he asked.
She kicked off her heels. The countdown had begun. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Can it wait? I just need to hop in the shower.”
Depending on Remy’s mood, a shower might become the precursor to her mental checkout for the rest of the night. He had been lucky to get more than three words out of her during these episodes.
“It won’t take long, babe.”
Remy dipped her head down and twisted her long hair into a bun.
“We need to go shopping for some wheels.”
“Why?”
“Uber’s not that safe. And then there’s the condo.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” Rolling her neck, she sighed, clearly irritated.
“Nothing’s necessarily wrong with it. I just thought you would like to pick—”
“Really, Knox… This can’t wait?” The last vestige of sunlight kissed her brown skin. Regardless of her bad mood, Remy glowed.
“Could you be less interested?” he blurted, unable to help himself.
Throwing him a death glare, she lowered her eyes to narrow slits and unzipped her skirt. “Considering this bra is slowly cutting off the oxygen to my brain, I probably couldn’t care fucking less.”
“Go.” Finally fed up, he waved her off before tossing his apple core into the trash. Easy two points. “And why the hell does my mother need to talk to you?” he muttered to nobody but himself.
* * * *
The pulse from the showerhead beat against her skin. Remy leaned into the hard spray to soothe her aching bones. Six years’ worth of running and hiding had finally sunk into her soul and weighed on her. Positive that she had caught sight of the congressman’s idiot cousin earlier that day, she felt defeated.
Stepping out of the smooth granite bath cave, Remy snatched the towel off the rack and weighed all her options. Since the congressman still held a mighty powerful card up his sleeve, the thought to run had occurred to her. She oiled her skin before she whipped the towel off her head and dumped it into the hamper. Opening the bathroom door, Remy came face-to-face with one of the sexiest men she had ever laid eyes on.
“Want to start over?” While he held a glass of wine in one hand and a silky slip in the other, he graced her with a lopsided grin. “I mean, we can do this with you naked, but we both know how that will go.”
Remy matched his smile and accepted the glass of wine first. Downing the moscato in record time, she nodded at the papers on the nightstand.
“It occurred to me that you’ve never bought a car before,” Knox said, holding out the slip for her to take.
“What?” she smirked. “I just got out of the shower.”
“Stop distracting me.”
“No, to answer your statement.” Done teasing, Remy grabbed the silky little number out of his hand, trading it for her glass. “I’ve never bought a car.” While she put the slip on, he set the empty wine glass on the nightstand and grabbed the papers. As she twisted her curls over her shoulder, Knox guided her to the posh white rug, where they took a seat.
“Well, today’s your lucky day, sweetheart.”
His hard abs stood out under the dim light, the waistband of his sweats dipping low enough to show off his Adonis belt. Whatever he had planned, she hoped he kept it short. Sex always helped, and since she lived with a walking dick, a sexy distraction wouldn’t hurt either. “A sporty convertible… Chicks love it.” He held up the paper in front of her. “If you pick this, it sends me a huge message, because there’s no way I can fit.”
“Girly car, no Knox… Check.”
He flipped to the next sheet. “Cute,” he grumbled about the boxy truck, “and I can kind of fit in it, but this…” Clearly excited about that last one, Knox showed her a large SUV. “We can get it custom made for my petite frame, and I can drive it whenever you decide to get plastered.”
“Because that happens often.” She snorted.
“Just go with it,” he said.
Remy reached for the printout of the truck Knox wanted her to get. “Okay, but silver.” Pretty sure he had set her up to pick what he wanted, she caught his know-it-all grin.
“Next, this is the Loop. We live here.” He showed her a picture of the downtown area, pointing at their building.
She rolled her eyes at his dramatics but let him continue.
“This”—he showed her a brownstone in a cute, quaint area—“is the Northside. It has more breathing room, awesome restaurants and it’s kid friendly.” He quirked his eyebrow at her in question, but she dismissed it. “And last…” Knox handed her a picture of lofts. “The Westside, an up-and-coming area with great buildings. I didn’t do the suburbs, but that would be ideal for the dog and picket fence type of deal.”
“How about…?” Grabbing her cell off the bed, Remy pulled up her cloud account and turned the phone in his direction.
“That’s a pile of rubble,” he said. She swiped to the next screen. “Wait a minute.” Knox took her phone from her to study it. “Why do I know this place?”
“Try the next one,” she told him.
He shoved back his hair as he shuttled through the pics. “What’s going on?” The last shot showed the old farmhouse he’d grown up next door to in Canada.
“Your parents paid the down payment, and I pay the mortgage from my freelance checks each month.”
“And?”
“Next picture.” Remy nodded to encourage him on. “We break ground in the fall.”
“How? I don’t understand.” He flipped through the photos of the blueprints. “You never take money out of the account. This makes no sense.”
“It’s your retirement gift. We worked on the layout—”
“We?”
“Your parents helped, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, we can tweak it together… A summer home, I figured.”
Lightning quick, Knox pounced. She didn’t have enough time to react before he pinned her down and kissed all over her face.
“Get off.” Remy swatted at him and laughed.
“Admit it. We are the bestest, most awesomest couple. Why do you fight it?” His sparkling blue eyes seemed to dissect her as if she were a mathematical problem he couldn’t quite figure out.
“Because I don’t want to lean too hard on you,” she answered.
“But I love it when you do.” Knox kissed her on the lips, moving against her mouth in a slow, torturous manner. “Full disclosure… I just left the gym.” He lowered himself down to suck on her neck.
“Why would that matter? We’re just talking, right?”
Shoving her legs apart with his knee, he slid the strap of her slip off her shoulder and kissed her erect nipple. “We are,” he huffed against her breast. “But now I’m going to do it while fucking you.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Chicago streets were crowded with people. It was a perfect day for a walk. Remy found herself turned around near the river. She had somehow gotten off track and was late for Lashonda’s photo shoot. A startup magazine wanted to hire Remy for their head editor position. Without a firm commitment either way, Remy had left for her next appointment.
“Catch an Uber!” Lashonda hollered on the phone. “This is my first shoot in years and I’m nervous.”
Remy had scored the stylist a cushy freelance job for the cover of a magazine. She’d promised the football wife she would help her out. Of course, she ne
eded to get there first. “Hold on. I’m a little turned around is all.”
“I’ll drop a pin.”
“No,” she said, more harshly than she intended. “I’m at Franklin and Wabash. I just need to get to Orleans.” Remy always kept the location feature on her phone off.
“Okay. Do you see the bridge? Keep going and it turns into Orleans. That will put you right by the Merchant Mart. I’m a block away from there.”
“Got it.” The streets were jam-packed. She had to wait for the light to change. “Give me five minutes.” Who knew stylists were more temperamental than their freaking clients?
“These people are like hella professional and I’ve been in mommy mode for a good minute, and—”
“Girl, breathe! Shit.” Less concerned about her surroundings and more worried about Lashonda’s freak out, Remy let her guard down.
“You never should have come back, bitch,” he growled before he snatched her by the arm and shoved her into oncoming traffic.
“Remy, Remy!” She could barely hear Lashonda over the hard blare of a car horn.
* * * *
As the emergency vehicles blocked off the intersection, Remy sat on the curb. Blood slipped down her knee.
“I saw him push her. I mean, he was right there,” the kid who had yanked her from the clutches of a Nissan bumper babbled to the cops.
“That leg looks like it needs stitches.” The EMT knelt beside her and pressed gauze against her knee. “Do you understand?” He held up his hand. “How many fingers do you see?”
“I’m refusing medical service. Is there something you want me to sign?”
He sighed. Probably not the first difficult person he had dealt with today, Remy felt positive she wouldn’t be his last. “It can get infected. I suggest you let us take you to the hospital.” The paramedic got up and went to his truck.
“Honey, you should listen to him,” a woman near her said.
Remy felt dizzy. The crowd seemed to close in.
“Hey! Hey, I’m her husband!” Knox’s voice carried over the symphony of voices. After a few seconds, he appeared directly in front of her.