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Once Damian had told me that Emilia calmed his mind, made him laugh, eased him. I’d assumed Emilia was mixing drugs in his coffee because Damian, who was the biggest asshole in business,hadindeedloosened up. But now, I understood. I used to be a workaholic. Now, I seemed to have time to have a life—and I hadn't thought twice about abandoning work to sit in a bakery with Elsa.
She had a calming effect on me. She could tell I was worried about Dean, and understanding he was involved in something dangerous with Dom, she offered her support, helping to share my burden.
After our guests left and I ordered Elsa to take a shower while I cleaned up the kitchen.
Damn, I couldn't wait to move to a new place, one that had a fucking dishwasher at least.
Luckily, because Elsa had been tired all day, she'd not complained that I ordered food from a restaurant nearby to feed all of us tonight, not allowing her to cook. Still, there were plates, silverware, fucking wine glasses to wash.
No one would believe Duncan Fucking Archer was doing dishes and wiping them down because his wife hated water stains.AndI would do it again and again and again so my wife wouldn't have to because as much as she loved to cook, I knew she didn't like to clean.
I marveled at how much my life had changed for the better.
After I finished cleaning up, I found that Elsa was still in the bathroom as the shower was running, so I called Vincent.
"I told you it was done," he cryptically greeted.
"My phone is secure, and I know yours is as well," I snapped. "I'd like some details."
"Pascal Fournier has been arrested by Interpol in Berlin. He will not be coming back to France. His partner in crime miraculously was allowed to leave Germany due to his good fortune of there not being enough evidence to arrest him."
"Butyouhave the evidence," I remarked.
"Yes." Vincent sounded pleased with himself. "Jean-Luc was persuaded to retire from his business in exchange. He will announce it tomorrow to his people."
"And you'll be crowned the new…ah…leader of his band of thieves and criminals?"
Vincent laughed. "No. That's now how this works. I’ll have to kill a few people who will think they can fill Jean-Luc's shoes. I'm free this weekend, so we should get this settled by next week."
“I’m sure,” I chuckled and then sobered, “Thank you, Vincent."
"Don't thank me. You owe me now and Iwillcollect on the favor. I can't promise that it will be easy to grant me what I ask for," he warned.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you."
Elsa was in bed by the time I finished talking to Vincent, putting moisturizer on her arms and legs as she did every night. The bedroom smelled like patchouli and lavender, and I loved that scent on her. In fact, my dick had started to have a Pavlovian response to her perfumed lotion.
She lifted her tank top and started to spread the lotion on her belly.
Fuck!Now, that was sexy as hell.
"Get ready for bed, and first tell me what's going on, andthenwe can do what you're—"
I grabbed the lotion, putting it away before I pushed her on her back. I pulled down her sleep shorts, and my mouth watered.
"Duncan, we have to talk and—" She gasped when I put my mouth on her pussy, shoved my tongue inside her.
She arched her back. "Oui."
I pushed a finger inside her, suckling her clit. I could feel her thighs shaking. I placed a hand on her stomach and felt it tighten. I loved how her pregnant body responded to me. I'd never thought making love to a woman swollen with child could be this erotic, this sensuous.
"Duncan, s'il te plait." Please.
I sucked harder and added another finger inside her, tilted them so I could rub against her G-spot. That's all it took. She screamed her orgasm.
"On your knees." I couldn't wait for her to calm down. I wanted inside her to feel her cunt pulse around my dick.
A woman with a large stomach wasn't supposed to be graceful, but my wife was. I looked at her, offering herself to me on all fours. I groaned as I cupped her ass cheeks and spread them.
