Chapter 29
Jameson
HANDLING A SITUATION AND containing one were two different things in my syndicate. I handled business ventures, investments, day-to-day finances and dealings.
I contained explosions of passion, emotion, people acting out.
The Diamond Syndicate didn’t just exist in the Chicago suburbs and Paradise Grove—it was on the West and the East Coast and across the globe.
I didn’t have time for miniscule problems or weaknesses within my own syndicate. Or with my own allies.
For the man who had invited Trent, I gave two minutes of my time. Not five. And his argument had been an actual waste of those minutes.
The bullet in his head was a waste also. In med school, they told me every second counted. I felt the same with my business. It was a body I took the utmost care of, and when something infected it, every second counted in removing the virus.
“Get this piece of shit off the premises,” I told one of my men. When Olive and Dimitri walked in with Bane and Pink, I pinched the bridge of my nose and informed them, “He was working with Paolo along with Trent.”
Bane frowned. “You know for a fact?”
“He used the same phrase Paolo did. The East Coast will take care of the cracks. The same phrase Lex used to say about her company helping us Diamonds.”
“You saying what I think you are?” Bane lifted a brow and I nodded before he grumbled, “Shit. Well, you wanted more action, Pink. Guess we get a little blood tonight, and might be time to get surveillance on all Paolo’s properties. Doesn’t seem they’re going to stay quiet any longer.”
I agreed, sliding my gun back into my belt holster. “Keep me updated,” I told them, and then went to find Mia. She was my focus now tonight … or every night.
Trent was right about that. I had overreacted and killed a man or two at the club that I might not have had she not been there.
Would it cause ripples amongst the East Coast?
I didn’t care now. The second Trent had said the same phrase Paolo Ruiz had, everything clicked into place.
Val and Trent were close, and I had it on good authority she’d gone to him after I turned her away last night.
It meant he’d tipped off O’Connor’s men and his loyalties were with them over us. For that alone, he deserved a knife in his heart. He got a bullet in front of everyone, though, because of how he’d talked to Mia.
No one got to disrespect that woman ever again. Not when they knew she was mine.
And when I saw her dancing with my brother, I had words with both of them, reminding her she was mine even though I couldn’t clarify the rest. I just knew I was ready for more with her. Ready for everything.
I took her soft lips in mine now on the dance floor because they were my territory just as mine were hers.
She’d learn over time what it meant to be faithful to me, that it meant not even my brother would be able to touch her.
I wanted her home to ingrain it into her, so I pulled away to tell her, “We’re leaving. ”
“But we should say bye to—”
“Blame me later.” I gripped her hand and wove through the party. She’d see them all again in a month or so. Or maybe never, since I didn’t want to share her with anyone. Not with the way men kept eyeballing her. Why had I sent short-ass dresses to her today, anyway?
But when I got her back on the Ducati, I knew why. Her exposed thighs against my clothed ones in the night wind heated my damn soul. I wanted her in a way I never wanted women.
To own her.
To punish her for letting my brother touch her.
To ravage her so she was wrecked for everyone else.
To rip her apart and then put her back together so she knew she was safe only with me.
The moonlight glowed on her skin, and her fingers gripped my abdomen every time I accelerated. She wasn’t teasing me the way I had teased her under the table tonight. She didn’t inch her hands down toward my cock or try to cop a feel the way I had.
But I fucking thought about her doing it, how it would feel for those hands to grip my dick instead of my stomach, for her legs to open wider for me on my bike so I could fuck her in the moonlight with the stars highlighting her pretty brown eyes.
I took the turns faster, the wind whipping past us, and blew through the lights, pushing the machine only a little.
The Superleggera V4 was a damn beast, one of five hundred in the world, and mine wasn’t stock.
I’d custom dipped the carbon-fiber fairings in obsidian-infused paint, wrapped the handlebars in leather—the same Italian leather that I enjoyed in my Bugatti—and the exhaust was tuned to rumble lower and quieter.
There wasn’t any red on my brake calipers either.
They gleamed of steel, and the dash flashed with an upgraded HEAT digital interface, the best in the industry.
My machine was made for me. Not the streets. And the woman on that bike with me tonight was made for me too—how she held herself amongst my syndicate, quiet and almost apathetic to everything but my touch, her concern focused on my daughter, on me, and on her friends.
She didn’t care about the power; she didn’t care about the wealth or the prestige, and her heart made her too good for all of us. For me.
Yet, I was too selfish not to take it, couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried.
I hit the button on my dash to open the iron gates.
Every second that idled by as the metal parted slowly was a second too long.
The drive curved ahead, and I felt how she’d caught on to leaning with my body, but I leaned hard so that we were right on the edge of the drive, my estate in view with the darkened stone and glass glinting in the moonlight.
I engaged the kickstand and looked back at her.
She was breathless from the fast ride, her lips still swollen from my kiss were parted just slightly, and her dress bunched high on her thighs from being pressed tight against me.
I let the engine idle and the night air infect us. She didn’t let go of my waist, her breath hot on the curve of my neck as I stared at her. I didn’t move right away because I couldn’t, not when every inch of her was molded to me like she belonged there.
“Ready to go home?” I asked her.
“Not ready,” she murmured.
Good.
I wasn’t either.
I unstrapped my helmet and yanked her thigh over my lap while gripping her waist so that her thighs straddled mine. I pulled her helmet from her head too, watching her curls tumble free, wild and soft in the night wind.
“Fuck, you’re a vision on top of my bike, darling devil.”
“This thing is dangerous,” she said, but her hands were on the tank as she wiggled her hips back and forth like the feel of the purr of that engine was the danger, not the actual ride.
“I think you like dangerous more than you originally let on.”
She bit her lip, and I watched her pant at the feel of the vibration between her legs. “I was turned on the first time you grabbed me around the neck, Jameson. Have been turned on ever since.” The blush that stained her cheeks was a sight I wanted to remember forever.
“How turned on are you now?” My gaze drifted to her pussy on my ride. “Spread your legs wider and show me, Mia.”
My girl was ready to follow commands because there was no hesitation as my hands drifted up her thighs while she spread them further apart. When I pushed her dress up so that her panties shone in the moonlight, she gasped.
“Soaked through.” I brushed my thumb over the silky material, rubbing her clit up and down, giving her the friction her body ached for. Her lips parted on a moan. “You still wanted me to touch you here even after the cleanup?”
“Probably more so after.” She said it quietly and on a whimper.
I pinched her clit, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted her saying it loud, and I wanted to feel her pussy when she did. I ripped the material from her body and plunged two fingers into her before I growled, “Say it again, Mia. Say you liked knowing what I’d do for you. Does that turn you on?”
“Yes,” she moaned, arching into my hand.
“You like knowing you drive me so crazy that if a man looks at you wrong, he’ll be on the floor bleeding out in seconds?”
“Yes.” She almost cried, her eyes shut as I picked up the pace of my fingers pumping a sensitive spot within her. She was dripping onto my machine now, writhing for a release, but I wanted her crazy for one, as crazy as I was for her.
So I pulled my fingers out and slid the arousal over her clit. She gasped at the loss and tried to sit up, but I grabbed her neck and slammed her back down onto my ride. “You know your pussy doesn’t deserve a damn orgasm after what I did for you tonight only to see you with my brother.”
“It was a dance,” she said, like that made it okay.
I smacked her pussy three times over so that it swelled and shined in the moonlight before I massaged it. Then I pulled her forward by her neck. “You won’t dance with other men if I fuck you, Mia. You get that? I won’t allow it.”
“And what about you and other women?”
“Do you care if I do?” I wanted her to admit she did, admit she was as unhinged for me as I was for her.
She looked away as she said, “You let Valerie whisper in your ear, and a dozen other women touched you tonight. I can’t dance with a man, but they can flirt with you?”
Her acknowledgment had my cock hardening to the point of pain, and I hummed before saying, “Turn around, baby, and put your knees right here.” I pointed to the base of the tank and helped her maneuver so she was kneeling and facing away from me.
Then, I took her hands and placed them on the handlebars.
She was tiny enough that when she did, her ass raised in the air, just how I wanted it.
She looked over her shoulder at me and narrowed her eyes. “What are we doing, Jameson?”
“I’m giving you my apology, Darling. For letting another woman make you feel like they had any of my attention.
It was you I thought of the whole night.
You and this ass.” I squeezed a globe. “This pussy.” I spread her center open so I could watch it glisten in the moonlight. “And this pretty, tight hole.”
I lowered my head to taste her arousal first. I let her rock her hips on my tongue, let her ride close to that orgasm I knew she needed, and then I licked my way up to the puckered hole that I could tell she was more hesitant about.
She gasped when my tongue tasted it, when I worked it while my fingers slid into her center.
She told me immediately that no one had ever done this, that she was too close, that she was falling over the edge, and then her perfect holes tightened around my tongue and fingers as she cried out into the night.
I held her through her orgasm, memorizing how she spasmed, how she coiled up and arched and then came down from that high, slumping over my machine languidly, like she was spent.
I flipped her around so she was straddling me again, and she gave me a lazy smile. “I like your apologies, Jameson. Probably even as much as your jealous punishments.”
I couldn’t keep my hands off her as I massaged her thighs, my movements almost jerky with the pent-up need to have all of her.
“I like you sitting across me looking like that too. But it’s time to get us home.”
Her head shake was slow before she murmured, “I want all of you, not a tease.”
“A tease, Mia?” I chuckled. “I think you got what you needed.”
She almost growled, and then she lunged for my belt buckle, undoing it quickly enough that she could slide her hand into my pants and grip my cock to return the favor. “I need this.”
Her hand pumped me once and I about lost all the control I had left. Gripping her wrist, I stopped her. Between gritted teeth I said, “Tell me you’re not ready.”
“But I am.”
I was squeezing her neck with my other hand, so I let go of her wrist and gripped her thigh instead. I wasn’t sure if it was to hold her back or to prepare to pull her forward. “I should have you in a bed first.”
“I don’t need romance, Jameson.” She raised up and positioned me right at her entrance. “I only need you to have me where you want me and where I want you. Do you want me here?”
There was no need for the question. My arousal was shining in the damn moonlight at the tip of my cock, beading out in rivulets, dripping for her like she was for me. And I didn’t give her any answer other than yanking her forward and slamming her pussy over my thick cock.
She gasped and I groaned, my voice feral as I said, “Damn I knew this pretty pussy was made just for me.”
She rolled her hips and whimpered, “I needed this. Needed you.”
“You got me, baby. And I got you,” I told her before letting go of my control. I fucked her hard against my machine without any reservations.
I should have had some.
She was a weakness, an employee, and a person my daughter loved.
She was someone I couldn’t lose, and that thought scared the shit out of me.
But the thrill and the fear made me drive into her harder, made me grip her hips enough that I’d leave bruises in the morning. I hadn’t even considered that I was fucking her raw, that we didn’t use protection, or that this could end badly.
Because I wouldn’t let it. It wouldn’t end.
I wouldn’t let her go.
I’d keep her. Even if she didn’t want to be kept.
I came into her hard on that thought.