Chapter 11
Monty
We wake up on New Year’s Day with plans to make breakfast together, but a peck on the lips quickly spiraled, and now I’m aching for him again.
I barely register Guy laying me against the stairs. I’m too busy tearing off his T-shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. It’s rushed and frantic, a flurry of hands, kisses and caresses. He yanks down my jeans, my skin burning from the intensity of it, and he tosses them aside.
The moan that leaves my throat when he buries his face between my thighs doesn’t sound like me. His beard scratches my skin, and I ride against the feeling, my back arched against the rough carpet of the stairs.
“Now, Guy,” I beg. “Take me now.”
His mouth is on mine.
I devour the taste of myself on his lips.
And I cry out when he buries his cock into me.
It’s sudden, an addictive sensation of stretching and filling. Guy groans into my mouth, and the sound sends flutters of pleasure through my pussy.
“Make that noise again,” I say, and as he pulls out and slams back in, he does. “Oh, God.”
He ruts into me—hard, and fast, and wonderfully accurate, and I wrap my legs around his waist, praying he never stops.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” I gasp as pleasure explodes through me. Guy doesn’t stop, extending the orgasm until a tear falls free and into my hair. The feeling is unexplainable, like fireworks exploding in my mind, a never-ending show of colors and lights. “Guy.” Another orgasm hits me.
It’s so out of nowhere that I let out a sob, burying my face in his shoulder.
“More, more, please—”
He delivers. He doesn’t stop; if anything, he speeds up, his cock hard as a damn rock, his thrusts unrelenting.
He presses his forehead to mine as his hips never stop moving. He stares at the point where his cock delves into me, watching the frantic joining of our bodies, his lips parted as he pulls in breaths.
The muscles in his arms flex as he lifts me and stands. He presses me into a wall and continues fucking me, lifting one of my legs so my knee is pressed to my chest.
“Jesus—” He grunts, burying himself deep, and hard, and fast. “I will never get tired of this pussy, fuck.”
Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear Guy Gibson say the word “pussy,” let alone that he’d use it in dirty talk with me. The man barely speaks, and then he comes out with that?
“Come again for me,” he says against my lips, his strong, powerful body crowding me against the wall. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
His kiss swallows my moans as I come again, seemingly unable to do anything but follow his command. I’m so damn wet I’m gushing down the both of us, and I never want it to end.
It seems Guy reads my mind, because he doesn’t come yet.
He fucks me over the kitchen island, my breasts pressed into the cold granite. I’m balanced on my tiptoes, my hands behind my back as he slams into me.
But it’s the kitchen floor where he really gives it to me.
I’m on my hands and knees, the floor hard, but I barely feel it as he wraps my hair around his fist and unleashes heaven on my ass. I come again, and again, my moans becoming cries, sobs of pleasure into the hardwood.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come—” He grunts.
He calls out my name, my real name, and comes deep inside me. His grip on my hips hurts, but it’s the only thing that keeps me from floating away from myself.
I press my forehead against the floor, panting until the wood fogs. Sweat slips down my spine, our arousal slick between my thighs, and Guy kisses up my spine.
“You okay?”
I nod, almost wheezing. “I just need a second.”
My body chills as he moves away from me, and I allow my heart to slow before sitting up on my knees. My head spins a little, and Guy pulls my back to his chest. I rest my head back against his shoulder, and he runs his hands up my stomach and gently squeezes my breasts.
“Bath?” he suggests, and I nod sleepily. He sweeps me into his arms, and I cover my face as cum dribbles out of me.
“I’m leaking everywhere.”
“Get used to it. I’m locking the doors and we’re never leaving.”
I laugh, and when we reach the bathroom, he sits me on the armchair in the corner as he runs us a bath. I watch him, a small smile on my lips, my heart so damn full.
“You don’t have to do all this for me.”
His eyes meet mine, a flicker of sympathy in them. He comes over to me, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Let me look after you, Lina.”
Tears burn my throat, and I nod. “Okay.”
We both get in the bath, him at one end, me at the other. My feet are against his chest, and he rubs one as we talk.
“Can I ask a question, and you promise not to get mad at me?” I ask, and he groans but nods. “Why were you angry that I killed Richard? I just want to understand. He was a horrible person. He killed those little girls, and his poor wife. Why weren’t you happy that I did it?”
He watches me for a moment, still rubbing the sole of my foot. “Because I’ve lived my entire life by the law, and I’ve seen what vigilantism can do. Richard should have been taken to court, be proven guilty, and faced what he did behind bars.”
I frown. “But he never would have. There was no evidence. He’d have just walked free.”
“I would have found a way.”
“And you’d have failed.” I sigh, sitting forward. “I’m sorry, I just … I fixed a problem.”
“You risked your freedom,” he says, searching my face. “What if you’d been caught? He isn’t worth that.”
“I never get caught.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
I smile. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m retired.” I gasp and lean back, wiggling my toes in his beard. “We’re both retired! What should we do with our time? We could do a cross-county trip with Fox, that’d be fun. Let’s buy a huge RV!”
He laughs, kissing the bottom of my foot. “You think we can put up with each other for that long?”
“Well, yeah. You’ve got me for good, Guy Gibson.”
His eyes sparkle. “Do I?”
I bite my lip, suddenly unsure. “If you want me.”
“Oh, I want you.” He takes hold of my hand and pulls me up so I’m straddling him, bubbles running down my breasts. I lean down to kiss him. “I want to go on cross-country trips with you. I want to buy an RV.” I grin, my heart feeling lighter than it ever has. “I want you, Lina Fox.”
The sound of vibrating pulls me from sleep, and I open an eye. I’m cuddled into Guy’s side, his breathing deep and even, his body warm. The vibrating continues, and I push myself up on my elbow to glance at his phone on the nightstand. It isn’t lit up.
It must be my phone.
I left it downstairs, so I carefully slide out of bed, making sure not to wake Guy or Fox. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I find my phone on the kitchen island, Alistair’s name on the screen.
“Okay, now it really is the middle of the night,” I whisper. “What’s up?”
“Got another job for you, if you want it.”
I glance at the stairs. “No, I’m done.”
He pauses. “Huh?”
“I’m … I’m retiring. I’m done. No more killing.”
From Alistair’s end, I hear what sounds like the sliding of a door, then the hum of a city. I imagine him at home, on his balcony, looking at the lights. “Seriously?”
I take a seat on the couch. “Yep. I’ve got plenty of money, and I’ve had too many close calls … Monty Reid is off the market.”
“Ah.” He chuckles. “You met a guy.”
I play with a stray thread on the couch. “No, I met the guy. The only guy.”
“Hm. He worth it?”
“Yep.” He’s quiet for a while, and I suddenly wish he was here with me. “You want to meet him?”
Now Alistair fully laughs, and it makes me smile. “Wow, it must be serious. Sure. Bring him to the city; we’ll have dinner.”
“Promise you’ll be nice?”
“If I like the guy, sure. It’s my job to look out for you, Little Fox, remember?
” He says, and I nod, even though he can’t see me.
My heart suddenly aches for him. We’re not exactly tactile, but just being in Alistair’s presence is calming.
A reminder of who I used to be, and how much I’ve grown.
“You okay?” His voice is soft, and I love that even when we’re miles apart, he can sense the shift in my mood.
“Missing you.”
“Loser.” He quips. I laugh, and I think I can hear his grin. “I miss you, too. Listen … is this guy another Asher? I don’t want your heart broken again.”
My stomach clenches, and I drop my head back against the couch. When I first met Asher, I spent weeks following him and Gable across the states, eager to climb into Asher’s heart, no matter the cost. He became an obsession, and I forgot about everyone else.
It’s different with Guy, though. There’s a … permanence to him. A solid foundation that makes me want more than to just own his heart. I want him to hand it over to me, and to take mine, too. “I can’t explain how but … no. It’s different.”
“Hm. Okay. I’m happy for you, then, but … I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you who this job is for.”
Curiosity shoves the word from my mouth. “Who?”
“Sawyer Sinclair.”