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“Yours,” she whimpered.
“My…what?”
I slid my hand down her lower stomach and found her clit, working her pretty, swollen nub between my finger and thumb. She whimpered and her hips worked desperately, trying to grind on my hand and get away from my touch at the same time.
“Where are all your words now? Go on, baby, tell me what you are,” I urged.
She shuddered, writhing. Her weight sank into me, seeking support. I lifted her against my chest. Arcing her spine back so she could see out over the city as I pumped my cock deep inside.
“Tell me,” I breathed, my mouth just above her ear.
“I’m your whore,” she half-sobbed. “Your dirty fucktoy.”
“Good girl,” I purred. “My queen, my slut. Come for me, Olivia, come on my cock and tell the whole fucking city who you belong to.”
Her body broke, her mouth falling open as she wailed. I felt her orgasm before it even hit, tight like an incoming storm, and then wild like a wave crashing into the ocean. I held her against my chest, my other hand on her hip as I fucked her through her pleasure. Like she was the most precious thing in the world.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OLIVIA
He wasn’t done with me until after midnight. I had another glass of champagne and he had a whiskey. Our conversation stretched on, moving from the balcony to the bed. He held me and stroked my hair and we talked about the boys and our hopes for the next year.
I could tell there was a mental block in his mind when he talked about the future. Like he couldn’t visualize it until his present problems were resolved. I didn’t ask because I already knew this was about the lack of guns. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the specifics with me and I respected that.
A little after midnight, he fucked me one more time. After we’d both finished, I curled up in his arms and he stroked my hair until my eyes closed. We both slept hard, our bodies still wet with his cum and my arousal.
The next morning, we peeled ourselves out of bed, showered, and had breakfast on the patio in the restaurant's garden. I stretched out in the pale, morning sun and folded my legs under my body. It was the weekend and we didn’t have anywhere to be until he left for work tomorrow morning.
The waiter brought our coffee out. I sipped my caramel latte and let all the anxiety I carried in my chest dissipate.
“What are your plans?” I asked.
“I’ll take the boys out,” he said, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other.
“Where?” I asked.
He squinted up at the sun, already warm overhead. He’d lit a morning cigarette. It rested in his square, tattooed fingers—fingers that had been knuckle deep inside me last night.
I shuddered, warmth flickering
“Maybe I’ll take them hunting,” he mused.
“It’s not in season.”
“On our private land I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “Aren’t they too young for that? Marco is only eleven. And Hugo is practically a baby.”
“He’s definitely not a baby.” He shrugged once. “But Hugo can stay back if you’d like.”
“Isn’t there something less…violent you could do with them?” I asked lightly.
He shrugged, putting the cigarette to his lips. The morning sun glinted in his eyes the way it did across fleshly fallen snow. Cold, crisp, and bleak.
“I’ll take them both, but we’ll just scout unless I see something,” he said, giving in. “I can bring you back a pheasant for dinner.”
I nodded once. “Just please be careful with them.”
