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He shoves in me, a thrust that takes my breath away and makes ecstasy erupt in every damn cell. I moan, pushing back against him just to feel his thick, hot cock pulsing in me again.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans.
My fingers tighten on the headboard as he pumps his hips and makes little sparks of electricity dance across my skin.
“You’re so tight,” he whispers in my ear, as I near release.
“Is that another rule?” I lower my voice but have a hard time concentrating. “Be tight.”
His dark chuckle washes over me as my eyes flutter closed against the rush of emotion. “Don’t you let go,” he orders as he comes inside me, filling me with his hot release. I come when he does, giving in to the pressure and release that fills me as I shatter into ecstasy. “Don’t you ever fucking let go.”
We collapse on the bed, tangled in each other. His words echo in my ear.
They should make me feel special. Wanted.
Instead, I hear them as a threat.
What happens if I do?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Cain
“Boss.”
Joe’s pounding on the door to my bedroom. Violet’s wound in the sheets, her head on my chest and hair all around me. I extricate myself with a groan. The door’s locked, and it’s likely urgent.
Cursing, I tug on a pair of boxers and walk to the door. I yank it open. Joe stands on the other side with an apologetic look on his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Have you ever tried texting? Fucking calling me?”
“Don’t kill him, Cain, your phone’s been off for hours,” Violet mumbles behind me.
“She’s right,” Joe says with a grimace. “I got a call from the Salem P.D. They’ve got a warrant for the arrest of that Robbins woman. Seems she’s been dabbling in counterfeit money.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Yeah.”
“Get Henri down there with Claude. Find out what you can. I can’t close this case today; Violet and I have a job to do.”
He nods, takes down some further instructions, then shuts the door. I turn to find Violet sitting up in bed, frowning at my phone.
“He is a persistent motherfucker, isn’t he?” she says teasingly.
“I only hire persistent motherfuckers.” I toss her a pair of jeans and tee. “Get dressed, woman. We’ve got work to do.”
She tosses off the blanket, stretches, and yawns. “Coffee on the road?”
“I’ll take you to Java Witch.”
In Salem, various restaurants and locales are named after witches, our signature mascot, one could say. Known for the infamous Salem Witch Trials, we now wear what should be shame like a badge of honor. Violet does love the Java Witch brew, though.
“Can I get one of those twisty cinnamon things, too?”
“Babe, get whatever the fuck you want.” She knows I don’t give a shit what she gets, but she still likes to ask me. For a ballsy woman, she’s fucking cute.
