Chapter 4 Elias #2
"I want..." She gasps, her nails digging into my scalp as her walls clench in anticipation. "I want you inside me. I want you to stretch me wide and fill me to the hilt."
"Good girl."
Thrusting upward with a sharp, jagged motion mimics the exact rhythm I am dying to perform.
Her heat radiates straight through the damp fabric of her panties, soaked and dripping for me alone.
Knowing how wet she is nearly shatters my control.
Sliding my hand up her spine locates the clasp of her bra through her shirt.
Leaving it hooked for now, I trace the line of the strap to measure the tight tension coiled in her back.
"You fit," I mutter. Rubbing my cheek against hers drags my rough stubble across her soft skin. "The numbers balance perfectly."
"The numbers..." A breathless, frantic laugh escapes her. "You are talking about math right now?"
"Everything relies on math," I answer, biting down on her shoulder through the thin fabric of her top. "Volume and velocity. Calculating exactly how hard I can fuck you without breaking this cabinet takes effort."
Choking on a sharp gasp, her fingers tighten. "Elias!"
"But I can’t."
Stopping my hips creates a jarring, heavy stillness. My chest heaves against hers, taking the impact of her heart hammering against my ribs in a frantic, staccato rhythm. One, two, three, four. Moving way too fast.
Resting my forehead against hers keeps her securely pinned with her legs locked around my waist. Letting her go right now would send me crashing to the concrete.
"Why?" Her voice emerges ragged and ruined.
Shutting my eyes helps me lock the monster back in its cage. "Because taking you right now means I will absolutely not stop, and the clock only has forty-eight hours left."
"I don't care about the clock," she whispers.
"I do." Opening my gritty, burning eyes, I force myself to look at the reality of the room. "There is a war happening right outside that heavy steel door, Mia. Men carrying badges and guns want to put you in a cage, while men hiding in the shadows want to put a bullet in your head."
Squeezing her hips drives my fingers deep into the soft wool. "I need your mind sharp," I say roughly. "Finding that digital ghost requires focus. Burying them with numbers so deep they never dig themselves out requires all your attention. Fucking you into the floor right now ruins that focus."
The absolute truth finally bleeds out. "And a quick, dirty grind against a filing cabinet isn't enough," I add.
Shaking my head clears the fog. "When I take you to a bed, the claiming will last for hours.
Counting every single time you scream and memorizing exactly how your face flushes when you cum will take absolute, thorough focus. "
Her pupils blow wide enough to make her irises look entirely black. She swallows hard. "Is that a promise?"
"That is a threat."
Slowly lowering her down lets her legs slide from my waist, bringing her feet back in contact with the concrete floor. Keeping my hands planted firmly on her hips steadies her wobbling stance.
A glorious mess, her mouth shines swollen and thoroughly bitten. Her twisted shirt and the rucked-up edge of her skirt prove exactly who owns her now.
"Fix your clothes," I instruct, stripping the heavy lust from my tone and forcing the cold, calculating mask of the Treasurer back into place.
Trembling hands reach down to smooth the wool of her skirt. Touching her fingertips to her lips causes a slight wince.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No." Dropping her hand, she meets my gaze. "No, I... I liked it."
The dark admission slams into my chest like a wrecking ball.
Turning away before I give in and rip her clothes off, I march back to my desk and sit down heavily enough to make the leather chair groan. The heavy ache in my groin screams for release. Blood pumps so violently through my veins the roaring fills my ears, leaving me in absolute, hard agony.
"Get back to work, Mia," I demand, staring blankly at the swimming numbers on the screen.
"Elias?"
"What?" The word snaps out of my throat.
"You tossed my pen."
Gritting my teeth grinds my jaw. "I will buy you a new one, a whole box of them, or the entire damn factory."
"I cannot work without a pen."
I reach into the drawer and pull out my own pen—a sleek, heavy mass of cold black steel. I slide it across the floor, the metal rasping against the concrete until it hits her feet.
"Use mine."
She picks it up, weighing the dark, masculine metal in her palm.
It looks too big for her delicate fingers, a permanent mark of my ownership resting in her hand.
"Keep it," I command. "Consider it your first down payment.
" The dark, masculine metal looks too big for her delicate fingers, creating a sharp contrast against her pale skin.
Holding my gaze across the room, she lifts the pen straight to her mouth.
Instead of biting down on the cap, she merely rests the cool metal against the swollen, red flesh I just claimed.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Groaning low, I turn my full attention back to the monitor.
Surviving another forty-eight hours in this locked box might actually kill me.
Before that happens, killing the bastards who threatened her takes top priority.
The absolute second this heavy steel door unlocks and guarantees her safety, I plan to make good on every single dirty threat I just whispered into her skin.
Typing the execution code into the command line brings up a blinking cursor.
The target is officially acquired, and the mole has nothing to do with it.
Silence stretches heavily for another full hour. Thick and charged, the static of our unresolved tension infects the room. Feeling every single shift of her weight keeps my nerves on edge, and hearing her soft sighs forces my jaw to twitch.
Her pace accelerates drastically. Adrenaline from our violent encounter sharpened her focus, sending her flying through the spreadsheets with her fingers blurring across the laptop keyboard.
"Elias," she calls out suddenly. A steady, professional tone anchors her words, yet a dark rasp bleeds through the edges.
"Yeah?"
"The mirror signal goes beyond copying the data. The code is actively injecting a foreign script."
Spinning my chair around brings her back into view. "What?"
"Look here." Pointing directly at the screen, she remains firmly seated on the floor, knowing far better than to step within reaching distance of my hands right now.
Squinting across the room helps me read the data streaming down her monitor.
"Small packets," she explains. "It filters micro-transactions of mere pennies, but the volume adds up fast. The algorithm exists purely to devalue the assets over time. Stealing the money isn't the goal, Elias. Dissolving our wealth entirely is the real threat."
Ice floods my veins. "Asset forfeiture," I realize out loud. "Dropping the assets below a specific value forces the bank to call in the loans. The property enters immediate default, allowing the government to legally seize the land."
"And the IRS automatically freezes the accounts," she finishes. "A perfect pincer move designed to take the land."
The clubhouse, the secured compound, and the fortified territory the Gunnars have bled to hold for three generations are the real targets.
"The cash means nothing," I say, the harsh reality locking into place. "The Costas already have money. Taking the mountain gives them the high ground."
"Failing to stop this algorithm guarantees the club goes bankrupt by Monday morning," Mia warns. "A technical bankruptcy grants the Feds a warrant to seize the property by noon."
"Twelve hours remain before the banks open on Monday," I calculate.
"Can we stop the bleed?" Looking up from her screen, she places her complete trust in my hands, staring at me like I am the only man in the world capable of fixing the disaster.
"Stopping the script outright fails the mission," I say. The heavy math finally clicks into place, overriding the residual lust clouding my brain. "Blocking the injection alerts them to our presence, triggering a secondary attack."
"So what is the play?"
"We feed the beast," I answer, feeling a slow, dangerous smile stretch across my face. "Feeding the algorithm exactly what it demands makes it think it is winning. Creating a ghost ledger duplicates the club’s finances entirely."
"Fake books," she breathes out. "You are ordering me to cook the books."
"Forging a masterpiece is the actual request," I correct smoothly.
"Claiming to be the absolute best forensic auditor in the state requires proof. Building a financial house of cards that looks legitimate ensures Costa’s algorithm eats the bait while I secretly move the real assets into our offline, untraceable accounts. "
Biting her lower lip, she taps the end of my heavy black pen against her chin. "That plan is highly illegal. Fraud and massive conspiracy charges apply."
"You are already under federal arrest, Mia," I remind her bluntly. "Might as well actually earn the iron bracelets."
Staring across the room, a slow, dangerous smile curves her lips.
"Cooking the books is completely outside my standard skillset," she admits. "Catching the criminals who falsify ledgers is my actual job."
"First time for everything," I murmur, my gaze dropping straight to her swollen mouth.
A deep flush stains her cheeks, yet she refuses to break eye contact.
"Okay," she agrees. "I will build the fake ledger, but getting the ghost server running requires direct access to the Vault’s hardline to bypass the wireless."
"Done." Standing up requires walking directly past her spot on the floor to reach the patch panel. My boots hesitate on the concrete.
Watching my hesitation, she knows exactly what causes the delay.
Closing the distance makes the air grow heavier with every single stride.
Stopping directly in front of her forces her to angle her chin up to meet my gaze.
Reaching down makes her flinch, a barely perceptible twitch of her shoulders.
Grabbing the thick black cable lying next to her knee drags my knuckles against her bare skin, shooting electric fire straight up my arm.
"Plug the cord in," I order, holding the metal connector out to her with a rough, gravelly tone.
Taking the wire causes our fingers to brush.
"Elias?"
"What."
"When this crisis is finally over," she says softly, "after we save the club."
"Yeah?"
"Do not make me wait too long for the rest."
Staring down at her beautiful, ruined mouth makes a hollow ache echo through my chest. "Get to work, Mia."
Turning around, I walk back to my desk to prevent myself from doing something completely reckless like falling in love with her.
That particular equation is already solved. The count echoes loudly in my head. One, her brilliant mind sees the unseen. Two, her brave spine refuses to snap. Three, her body belongs entirely to me.
Sitting down, my fingers hit the keyboard, the keys clacking like heavy gunfire cutting through the quiet room. The war requires absolute focus, and losing is no longer an option.