Chapter Sixteen
Maverick.
One Month Later
Forearms planted on my desk; I tip back in my office chair as Siren tiptoes back and forth, pacing outside of my office door in her little fuzzy socks. Socks I’ve become grateful for when she sleeps with me due to the unsettling way her feet get ice cold at night.
I will say, as distracting as she is, I’ve welcomed it due to being entertained with her little huffs and puffs, and the way she seems to be working herself up to come into my office.
She’s wearing an old FBI sweatshirt of mine and every time she gets frustrated with herself, she lifts it via the pockets, showing off the little pajama shorts she’s wearing under the hoodie.
Kronos has been waiting patiently for her to make her decision, only his head moving back and forth as he sits by the door.
Luci is… somewhere. I let my wife torture herself for just a bit longer while I type out a message to Damon and Jonas.
It’s my evening with her and they’re having a showing of Murnau’s Nosferatu at the park.
Seeing as it’s now early October and she’s been watching one horror film every night since the month started to ‘catch up’ on all the films she missed while being in Lorne Wood.
Granted, it’s an old film and she’s probably seen it before but I thought it would fit the bill. A spooky movie for my spooky girl.
“Siren?” I call out to her.
The door opens a little wider as she steps into my office, one sleeved hand over her mouth.
“Are you alright?”
She nods then shakes her head, bring her other hand up. I want to get Jonas something really special. I didn’t get him anything as a wedding gift and… and I really want to get this one thing for him. I mean, he got my name tattooed on his throat!
I quirk a brow. “Then why is it causing you so much grief?”
I have to steal it.
I bark out a laugh and when she flushes a shade of pink I only see during sex I stop. “You’re serious? You have to steal it? You’re a billionaire and you have to steal something?”
She nods. Will you come with me? Please?
“You want me to go with you… to steal…?”
She puts her hands on her hips and her brows furrow. “You s-said… no more d-darkness. It’s f-for Jo-Jonas. I c-could have g-gone m-myself.”
Shit. She's got me there. I sigh, stand, and round my desk just to lean on it and cross my arms. “And what exactly is so important we have to pilfer it?”
You’ll see when we get there. So will you please come with me?
I sigh with one curt, reluctant nod.
She jumps up excitedly. Okay! I’ll get our flight scheduled!
“Wait a minute? Flight?”
But she’s already out of the office and I can hear her sprinting up the stairs. I sigh, push my frames up to my forehead and rub at my eyes then start chuckling. Of course I would fall in love with a criminal and marry her. Christ, Maverick. And now I’m about to be one, too.
We’re at the fucking Rayne-Moore University campus, traipsing through the woods behind it, wearing all black.
Raven brought a very heavy backpack I’m currently sporting as she moves around like a little dancing ninja, pulling a wagon with a foldable wheeled ramp sticking out of it.
A very clever mastermind, my little moth is in her element, a happy little burglar.
It’s cold tonight and every time she gets a little excited, she lets out a puff and it turns into a misty little cloud I can see in the pale light of the crescent moon illuminating our path.
She turns back to check to see if I’m still following her while we find our way to the old cemetery by the belfry.
She pushes her back to the wall when one of the security guards passes by and we wait for him to move along.
We slip with our backs to the wall, slinking around and she starts humming.
My brows furrow when I realize she’s humming the theme song to Mission fucking Impossible.
I have to stop to compose myself because what the actual fuck?
Soft laughter escapes me as we sneak into the bell tower, moving the planks off the opening like we did when Axel killed Riordan.
I don’t allow myself to think about that day, I simply just follow my little midnighter up the stone steps until we’re in the belfry.
She has me place the backpack on the ground and begins to remove the tools we purchased not long ago while we were in Boston after we landed.
First, she grabs the rope, climbs the stone railing, shoves it through George, the old gargoyle’s arms, and creates a type of noose around his…
torso while I hold onto her hips. She gets down and we both grab a hammer and a chisel to begin chipping away at the mortar tethering the ugly thing from the base.
After about two hours or so, I’m sweating, but we have most of it gone. I hold my breath as she climbs the stone railing again and I watch with bated breath as she swivels it. It has to be just about as tall as her. “Is it heavy?”
She makes a weird shrug and pushes George. She puts her elbows on the wings and signs, I don’t think he’s screwed in.
“Okay, well, get down from there before you fall and die. Please.” I hold out my hand and she takes it, jumping back into the bell tower with me.
I grab the rope and throw it over one of the beams connected to the non-functioning bell.
She plucks the ramp out of the wagon and unfolds it, placing it just beneath where George will easily be able to roll down.
She steps back and looks at George, the ramp, then the wagon.
What is my little evil mastermind thinking?
Before I can ask, she moves the wagon, then the ramp so it’s inside of the buggy, but the ramp sticks out just enough so when George is hopefully on it proper, he’ll roll into the wagon.
I let out my sigh softly. I married a nefarious genius.
I just hope our children use their genius for good and not…
white collar crimes. I rub my fingers across my forehead again.
Incredibly, I haven’t had a pulsating migraine since I killed Arlo in my old house.
She gets beside me, wraps the rope around her wrists, and we both grasp it tightly. “Ready?”
She nods; big brown eyes sharply winged to perfect daggers.
“Three… two… One.” She rasps and we pull together.
She was right. He wasn’t screwed in, which I find peculiar.
And he doesn’t weigh as much as I thought he would.
Although I am glad Jonas has pushed me to lift heavier with him during our workouts, and I know having Raven helping me tug this large motherfucker is making it easier but now there’s one more problem.
He’s hanging outside of the tower, just a few inches shy of reaching the ramp. Shit.
“Raven, I don’t know if I can hold him alone.”
“Sorry!” She exclaims quickly before climbing the stone edge again and pulls him as much as she can, guiding him to the edge of the ramp as I slowly let go of the rope inch by inch, groaning at the burn of the muscles in my back, tightening my core and flexing my quads, driving my heels into the stone floors as much as I can.
We get him to the slope and I’m fucking shaking when she comes back to me, grabbing a hold of the rope and we once again, slowly but surely, lower George completely into the wagon.
Panting, I slink down to my ass against the stone wall and try to catch my breath. She slinks next to me. “I… am going to… spank you… until you’re raw.” I rasp.
She leans over and places a kiss on my cheek. “Fair,” she sighs happily, chest heaving. Then, she starts giggling, laughing so hard she snorts and falls on my chest.
I look at George, tucked safely into the goddamn buggy, and groan, sputtering out a laugh. “Jesus Christ, woman. Do you know how much I love you?”
She nods; lips still spread in a cheshire-like grin and bites her bottom lip. “I love you, too.”
Our laughter subsides. “Oh, fuck,” I grunt. “How are we going to get him down the stairs?”
We hear a sigh from the archway leading to the stairs. “Mrs. Monroe.”
Raven stiffens beside me and all the color drains from her face. We face Officer Truitt; one of the campus police.
“We told you we would have the gargoyle ready for you to pick up in the morning. I was just coming up here to make sure the coast was clear before the crew came up to dismount it.”
I deadpan to my wife. “You purchased him?”
Very, very slowly, Raven nods.
George is safely tucked into a rental car, this evening now turning into a full weekend stay in Boston. I had to make my own detour and stop at a shop so I can both punish and reward Raven.
Reward her for not keeping me in the dark, and for actually purchasing the goddamn gargoyle, but punish her for pranking me.
Currently, her hands are tied to her ankles, ass up, plugged, and her hide is red and hot to the touch.
Although now, she has a gag in her mouth.
Her sweet, puffy cunt is dripping, creaming down her trembling inner thighs as I use the vibrator on her clit.
I’ve been edging her for only forty minutes but the sight of her so fucking needy and the sounds of her muffled moans are causing a type of delirium it seems only she is capable of causing.
Torment. Rut. Feast. Punish.
I gently tug the vibrating plug, deliver three more blows to her cheeks then shove my fingers into her already well lubricated hole. The one calling to me to fuck. To breed. To claim from the inside.
Rut.
There is no need for words, no need for me to ask her if she recognizes that what she did was wrong. No matter that she called it a ‘bonding-exercise'.
Well, I hope she’s enjoying my kind of ‘bonding exercise.’
Rut.