Chapter 75
TYLER
THE RUMBLE ON the nightstand goes ignored as I match the thrust of my tongue in time with my hips, my wife’s moans mirroring my own.
The feel of her sublime as I inhale her fresh-cut scent as she tightens around me, blunting her nails down my back in an attempt to force my release.
Forever determined to get the best of me.
Pulling back from our kiss, I flash her a wicked grin, palming her thigh to the mattress before punishing her with several hard thrusts.
All traces of the victorious smirk on her lips are erased when they part with the cry of my name, before she tosses her head back.
It’s that sight, her, and the power of that call that have me succumbing.
Dipping to capture her mouth, I feed her the groan she’s earned from me with my tongue, delivering it until I’m wrung out.
Partially collapsing atop her, chest heaving as I come down, she runs her fingers through my sweat-soaked hair while I trace her naked skin with lazy fingertips.
Heart forever hammering its insatiable beat for her, I spot the birthmark that still pains me and run a worshipful finger over it before lifting to peer down at her.
Her gorgeous face glistening, I absorb the high in her eyes for long seconds, appreciating the differences in her as her honey eyes drink me in just as reverently.
Our mutual contentment fought for and earned.
Years of being life partners making words unnecessary, even as my heart demands I speak them.
“Happy anniversary, baby.” Devotion soaks my delivery as I thread our fingers, pinning her hands next to her head. “And you still don’t look real. How did I get so lucky?”
“Because I was once a delusional teenager with a stalker crush,” she simplifies with a grin.
“Thank God for that,” I murmur, sipping her lips briefly before pulling back with my admission, “and I still do, every day.”
Her eyes glisten at my sentiment before she lifts to kiss me. It’s when a second and third buzz interrupt us that she sighs before pushing at my chest to free herself. A motion which draws my immediate protest just as I start to harden. “No,” I grumble, “I’ll ignore it.”
“It’s okay, I’m going to shower.”
“Fine, but don’t plan on staying clean for long,” I taunt, watching her gather herself from the bed, appreciating every inch of her naked backside before she disappears into the bathroom.
A second later, she unceremoniously tosses a wet rag at my chest, which thuds lifelessly to my lap. “Really romantic, honey.”
“What? Don’t get anything on the sheets, I just washed them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, toweling off as ordered as she closes the door, but not before I catch the lift of her lush lips.
Deciding I need a cup of coffee before I deal with whatever awaits, I pull on my boxers and pajama bottoms before trekking down the hall, passing dozens of family photos Larissa’s hung over the years.
All of them black-and-white candid shots of family and friends.
I pause briefly at the newest addition of Zach and his latest significant other, his damned dog, Barker.
As it turns out, my son has been a little less hesitant to settle down than I originally thought.
Truth be told, his life as a Raven has made it a lot harder for him to stick with any one woman.
His missions and their difficulty often exceed mine.
Especially now, since I’m a lot less active.
Taking the stairs down to the kitchen, I take note of the differences in the bubble we built since breaking ground years ago—now spending our time between our houses in France, Italy, and Triple Falls.
And though this house is no longer mint, the flaws aren’t flaws at all.
Just signs of the life we’ve lived since we started years ago.
Intimately aware of the reason behind every dent in the drywall—mostly Alexander.
My roaring lion, whom I grow prouder of every day.
Whose growing roar still drives his mother insane.
Both our children are handfuls of a different breed.
I’m thankful for the reprieve and temporary lack of “Mom! Dad!” for the short time we have.
Spotting a missed dot of spaghetti sauce on the backsplash as I hit the coffee pot, I grin at the sight, aware of exactly when that dot came to be.
During one of the best literal ‘fucking’ fights of our marriage. One I refuse to wipe away.
Waiting on the coffee, I glance around the otherwise spotless kitchen as I make plans for the day, which I design to include more naked time.
Our lives have been so utterly chaotic lately that we often miss each other.
Larissa being no less insatiable than she was when she demanded her flesh-on-flesh life, me no less sated for her.
Time has proven us an exception, much like the Tulas and Capos of the world.
Larissa’s and my blended families have proven a blessing not only to the two of us but to us all.
Even after semi-retiring, we’ve accomplished so much.
Years after stepping back from the club, I’ve remained just as busy helping Larissa navigate her reign as donna, happily serving and strategizing with her.
I’ve never once kept her from doing what she was born to do.
A role that she embraced, embarrassing her predecessors in comparison since.
Ruling alongside Tula with an iron fist. But even if she did decide to settle with me part-time at the farm, she’ll still refuse to live anything close to a boring life of apples.
Plans for the day sorted, my phone buzzes again just as I pour my coffee and hers.
It’s when I lift it to see a number of missed calls that I go straight to text to see one from an unknown number.
You should answer.
Instantly on alert when the unknown number rings again, requesting screen time, the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Swiping to answer, the face that greets me encompasses a predictable nightmare as Tobias and Preston also appear, in their own individual prisons.
The three of us collectively staring into the smug face of none other than Antony Livingston.
“Morning, gentlemen,” he greets us all, and it’s Preston who replies first.
“Your meeting, Livingston.”
“Long time, Marine,” Antony greets.
“Not long enough,” I utter.
“It must be so peaceful there in your little mountain town, a slice of Americana.”
Keeping my face blank, I shoot off a text to Zach first.
Check in. Now.
Fingers working frantically, I keep my expression schooled.
Son, check the twins.
As I swallow the fear threatening, Antony shifts his focus, choosing to dagger Preston.
“Mr. President, I imagine Vermont is ideal this time of year? Is Molly finally gaining strength after that final round of chemo?”
None of us takes the bait, too well-versed in sociopaths. Antony predictably turning his focus to Tobias next. “Celine and Jean are growing stronger by the day. Nothing quite like a healthy French diet and crisp sea air. Though you got a late start on the family, didn’t you?”
“That’s the last threat you’ll ever make,” Tobias counters in a tone he reserves for blood oaths. Pleased by his reaction, I can feel his focus on me.
“It’s a shame Sean didn’t answer. I was looking forward to the one-on-one, but I’m sure he’s preoccupied.”
All eyes on everyone Roberts, now.
“Thanks for making the decision for us,” Tobias says, “because trust me, we’ve debated often. But I’ll let you in on it now—I will be the one delivering your death,” he declares, “personally.”
Antony’s chuckle rumbles over the line. “I would take your threat more seriously, Tobias, if I thought you capable. But we know better by now, don’t we?”
I can feel T’s stare on me just as Larissa joins me on our front porch. Freshly showered, coffee in hand, her smile fades as she scans me carefully where I stand. Her concerning question silenced when Antony speaks up.
“Is that my girl you’re looking at?” he muses. “She’s aging beautifully, isn’t she? Those hips and that ass are still perfection.”
He flits his gaze briefly off-screen as I sink into my skin, knowing he’s got some view of Larissa, either in real time or in a recent picture.
“You’re a lucky man,” he relays on a longing sigh. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit I’ve imagined what a reunion would be like, Larissa. I’ve been a bit busy, so it’s been delayed, but who knows what the future may hold.”
Larissa pales rapidly at that threat as I grip her hand, demanding her eyes. Watching me carefully, she dips her chin in response, her face turning murderous as her wrath begins to build. In seconds, looking every bit the formidable donna she’s become.
“I’m surprised at you, Antony. That’s just tacky,” I clip, the mental mark I put on him blazing brighter with each second that passes.
“I would say the kidnapping and theft of one’s fiancée warrants some tit for tat, wouldn’t you?
Though,” he sighs, “I can admit the perfume delivery was poor form,” he states.
“Sorry about that. I’m only human.” His void gaze indication he’s anything but as he continues.
“As I was saying, Tobias. Since you have the best imaginable weapon at your disposal and an arsenal of collective resources, I had hoped you would become worthy of the legacy denied to you. But it seems the well-decorated apple of your eye hasn’t quite been able to pin his thumb on me.
” Antony’s cold, dead eyes drill into mine.
“Though we’ve had a few close calls, haven’t we? ”
Nest, update, now. I text Russell again as Zach’s silence threatens to start unravelling me.
“Just get it over with, Livingston,” Preston demands, circles embedded beneath his exhausted eyes. A fight I can empathize with in a way that still pains me.
“I would think you would be grateful, Preston, seeing as how I’m about to do you a service.”
“And what service would that be?” Preston manages evenly.