Remy

44. Remy

REMY

She holdsout the envelope that matches the one I carelessly discarded at the funeral home.

I don’t want to read it.

What I want is to remain composed for her, and I’m not sure I can do that with Carlo’s voice in my head.

“Maybe another time.” I gently guide her hand back to her lap.

“Remy, please.”

My chest tightens. It’s so fucking hard to deny her. “Ollie?—”

“It’s important.” She pulls the folded piece of paper from the envelope and places it in my hand. “Trust me.”

I drag in a calming breath and take the paper and ink grenade.

I itch to stand up, to pace, to get a fucking drink as I unfold the cardstock and stare at the familiar writing.

Dear fragolina,

I know you’re reading this with sorrow in your heart but please believe that this path led to the least painful outcome.

I could never have said goodbye to you.

Not in a million years.

If I was a stronger man, maybe things would’ve been different. I could’ve told you the truth, and you could’ve held my hand as I took my last breath. But I think we both know you would’ve fought to delay the inevitable, and I would’ve caved to your sadness.

This way, you didn’t have to watch your father slowly die an inhumane death. And your heartbreak won’t be the last memory I take from this earth.

In both regards, I’m grateful.

I said my own subtle farewell to you tonight. I made you laugh. I watched you smile. And I can rest easy knowing Remy will be by your side when the news breaks.

Please take care of him for me because through this journey, all he’s done is try to take care of you.

He sought the best doctors—for you.

He pushed me to continue the chemo—for you.

He made me vow to tell you my end-of-life plan—for you, my dear fragolina—but my commitment had always been a lie, and for that betrayal, please help him understand I’ll forever be sorry.

He deserved better. We all did.

Now that I’m gone, I want you to live your life. Don’t cling to family tradition if the funeral home isn’t your passion. I’ll be proud of you no matter where your future leads.

You were the best thing in my life. And your mother’s.

Live for both of us.

Let your hair down. Explore. Create. Get in trouble (just not too much).

And please tell Remy I loved him like a son.

With all my heart, until we meet again,

Dad xoxo

I clench my teeth,trying to keep my shit together.

I loved him like a son.

The words sink under my skin, chipping away at old wounds and new.

I fucking hate this. The discomfort. The ache.

I fold the letter and hand it back, every beat of my pulse pounding heavy behind my eyes.

“You helped him,” she whispers. “You gave him the peace I never would’ve been able to provide.”

“I wouldn’t have if I’d known.”

“I don’t believe that.” She cocks her head, her somber gaze scrutinizing. “You have a horrible job, Remy, but there’s so much good in you. My dad recognized that. I’m sure it’s why he trusted you with his plan.”

“Until he didn’t.”

“Until we got too close,” she counters. “At the start, he probably thought he could talk his way out of the commitment he made you. But then things changed. We changed. And like he said, if I’d known, I would’ve selfishly talked him out of using the pento.”

I drag her back onto my lap, needing her closer. “It’s not selfish to have wanted more time with him.”

“It is if it’s at the expense of his pain and suffering.” She turns into me, her shoulder leaning on my chest, her forehead resting against my cheek. “He made the right decision, Remy. I believe that, even though it hurts like hell.”

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe he had no other choice.

But watching Ollie endure the shock of her father’s death, then having her torn from my life is going to take longer to compartmentalize, especially when I dedicated this week to liquor intake instead of forgiveness.

I’m on the journey. I’m sure I’ll reach the destination. I’m just not there yet.

What I can appreciate, though, is how fucking phenomenal it feels to have this woman back in my arms.

I know it’s not like it was before. Too many things have changed.

Yet for once in my life I have hope.

“Remy…” she whispers.

“Mmm?” I rub my hand over her lower back, trying to memorize everything about her in case it’s taken away again.

“Do you remember what you said before you left my father’s room?”

I flinch, not wanting to go back there. I’m sure I said a lot of things, all of them panic-fueled. “What did I say?”

“You told me you loved me.” Her voice is barely audible, the tone along with her words making me tense. “Do you think you could ever feel that way again?”

Is she kidding?

“Pyro, at this stage, I’m pretty sure you could light me on fire and that feeling wouldn’t stop.”

She doesn’t laugh like I’d hoped she would. Instead, she remains still, the most precious bundle in my arms. “I love you, Remy.” I hear her arduous swallow. “I can’t stop loving you.”

I remain tense as fuck. No words. No thoughts. No speech.

This doesn’t seem real.

She pulls back, her eyes glassy as they meet mine. “I’ve missed you so much this week, but after the way I acted, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to you. Not when it was for my own selfish reasons.” She focuses on the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “But I feel entirely alone without you.”

I grab her hand and raise it to my lips, placing a kiss to her palm. “You never need to feel that way again. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Always?” She sniffs. “That’s a big commitment.”

I’d give her an even bigger one if I thought she’d want to hear it. But there’s no point daydreaming about what could be when the mending of our damaged bridges could be temporary.

I drag in a tired breath and place her hand back in her lap. “We need to talk about Hugo.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, God. I forgot about him.” Her rapid blinks dissipate her watery sadness, replacing it with shock. “He knows about the retort. Not specifics, but enough to?—”

“I know.”

Her brow furrows. “Since when?”

“Since a few minutes before I walked into that catering kitchen. We’d been having words in the restroom.”

“That’s why your brother was guarding the door?”

I nod.

“What did he tell you?” she asks.

Truth is, he’d told me sweet fuck all by the time I jabbed that syringe into his thigh. All I’d had was the vague notion that he’d threatened Ollie and called her a whore. That had been more than enough. “He said something about having information. But he wasn’t forthcoming with the details.”

“He’s been watching the funeral home,” she says in a rush. “He said he’s seen me coming and going at night. He’s even taken note of how many funeral notices have been placed on our website and tallied the amount of times the retort has been used. He knows the numbers don’t add up.”

He knew.

The stupid fuck doesn’t know anything about anyone anymore.

I’m just not sure how to break that to Ollie without having her cast me out of her life again.

“What should I do?” Those eyes implore me, the beauty in those hazel depths making me protective as fuck.

I don’t want to lose her again. But I’ll be damned if I continue keeping things from her.

“He’s not going to be a problem, Ollie.” I keep my hands where they are—one on the sofa cushion, the other lazily pressed to the low of her back. If she runs, I won’t stop her, despite knowing I’ll never recover.

She sits taller, her gaze scrutinous. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

She drags in a slow breath, her mind working a mile a minute behind those beautiful irises.

I let her digest the implication, my pulse thrumming, my fear of her leaving growing with every silent second.

She’ll be my undoing. I’ll become a crazed madman haunted with my need for her. I’ll never sleep. Never eat. Never function.

Living will be dying.

“Okay,” she whispers.

I frown. “Okay?”

She swallows. Nods. “Yeah, okay. He was a horrible person. Maybe not worthy of death, but worth doesn’t seem to be a currency this world cares about.” She settles back into me, resting her cheek to my shoulder. “I knew the bed I was making when I inserted myself into the agreement you made with my father. I’m a big enough girl to lay in it.”

Heat builds beneath my ribs. Fucking pride.

I turn my face toward her and place a kiss to her hair.

She’s one of us now.

“Does that make me a bad person?” she whispers.

“It makes you a realist. Nothing is fair in this life, and you don’t have to look far to see it. Criminal convictions are determined based on skin color, race, or bank balance. Entire countries starve while others are gluttonous. Wars are started for profit. Sex trafficking is one of the biggest growing industries.”

She flinches. “Are you?—”

“No.” I cut her off. “I’d never play a part in that. But the cartel sure as hell do.”

Those sick fucks have streamlined their business model. It’s why I give no shits about killing them.

She relaxes again, her retreats from anxiety becoming quicker and easier. I hope one day soon she won’t have anxiety about me at all.

“So you’re kinda like Batman,” she muses. “Living in the shadows. Taking down the bad guys.”

I snicker. “You forgot the part where I earn millions from illegal drugs.”

She shrugs. “I’m still going to role-play it in my mind for a while. Let me live my fantasy.”

That warmth beneath my ribs increases.

Here I sit, surrounded by grief and regret, yet I’m unbelievably happy with this woman. “Out of all the fantasies in the world, you’re doubling down on a Batman remix?”

“Well, considering all the fantasies I’ve had this year involved a man who iced me out whenever things got steamy, I think the Batman stitch is a nice compromise, don’t you?”

I don’t regret the so-called icing.

There’s no doubt in my mind she would’ve had regrets after fucking me if we’d done it way back when, especially given the circumstances that surrounded our explicit encounters.

But things are different now.

I can’t stand the thought of leaving her wanting. I’d do anything to make her happy. To convince her to stay.

I’m all in.

“I need you,” she whispers, placing the most delicate kiss to my neck, the featherlight touch electrifying. “Will you deny me again?”

I know I should.

After what she’s endured she can’t be thinking straight.

“Because, no matter how bad you are at this,” she continues, “horrible sex isn’t going to come anywhere near the worst memory I’ll take from today.”

I fight a smirk, fucking frothing over her sass. “I’m not bad at this, Pyro.”

She leans back with a raised brow “Are you sure? The constant delays haven’t instilled me with confidence.”

She’s such a fucking temptation—those emotive eyes, those lush lips.

“I would’ve thought the orgasms I’ve previously given would’ve lessened any doubt.”

She shrugs. “I’ve chalked them up to flukes.”

“Is that right?” I wrap my arms around her and shove to my feet, increasing my hold when she squeaks. “I guess I need to try harder to convince you.”

She wraps her arms around my neck. “Being hard is definitely a good platform for your campaign.”

My chest thrums with the need to laugh.

I fucking love this woman.

I steal her mouth for a kiss as I stalk across the room, pulse thumping, cock well and truly hardened. She cups my cheeks, fusing our mouths, moaning into the contact.

“God, I adore you,” she murmurs against my lips.

I hold her tighter. Kiss her harder.

I carry her into my bedroom, kicking off my shoes as I approach the bed to sink onto the mattress. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Without a doubt.” She nods her forehead against mine.

“Then be a good girl and hitch that skirt so you can straddle me.”

She whimpers into my mouth and does as instructed, pulling and tugging the tight material of her pencil skirt to the top of her thighs as she shimmies in my lap.

It’s a fucking storm of friction against my cock.

“Like this?” She kicks off her tiny pumps and climbs on top of me, settling the heat of her pussy over my crotch.

“Just like that,” I moan. “Such a good girl.”

She reclaims my cheeks. My lips.

Her kiss is wild and ravenous, her tongue dancing with mine as she rolls her hips and grinds into me.

I slide my hands up those beautiful thighs to her ass, guiding her into another grind, countering my hips with her movements, simulating sex over and over until she’s panting for more.

“I can’t wait to be inside you.” The rub against my covered cock is already too much. I could come like this.

That’s what she does to me. Makes me crazed. Desperate.

“There’s no need to wait.” She undoes the buttons of my shirt, then pushes my clothes over my shoulders—jacket and shirt combined—the material catching at my wrists.

She leans back, her eyes sparkling. “Looks like you’re trapped. What a predicament.”

I grin. I’ll give her the freedom to explore. To feel comfortable. For now. “Take advantage while you can. The tables will turn soon enough.”

She tightens her thighs around me, her nails scratching up my ribs. She learns my body with her lips and palms, placing kisses along my shoulders and neck, dragging light fingertips over my pecs and stomach.

It’s the sweetest oblivion.

A mindless tease.

“You have an incredible body.” She drags her tongue up my throat, her breaths panted, the continued rub of her pussy making me groan.

“Just wait until I get my hands on yours.”

“I better hurry then.” She rushes to undo my pants, discarding the belt and lowering the zipper.

Then she pauses, suddenly timid as she stares at my bulge.

“Take it out.” I fist the bed coverings, my fingers throbbing for action.

She does as instructed, lowering the waistband of my boxer briefs over my length.

“Grab my cock, Ollie.” It takes all my restraint not to touch her, to keep my fucking arms immobile.

She eyes my dick, her thighs squeezing around me, her want for me making the engorged length throb. Tentatively, those delicate fingers rake over me, light with the first stroke, then harder with a gentle squeeze.

Fuck.

I’m in trouble.

“Protection?” she asks.

“I’ve got no hands, Pyro. That’s your job now.”

She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me from under thick lashes. “Do you always use it?”

“Always. Top bedside drawer. Left corner.”

“So you’re clean?” She makes no move to grab for the condoms. Instead, she shyly licks her lips and stares back down at my cock. “And you know I am, right?”

Every. Fucking. Muscle. Tenses.

I incline my head, speechless at her implication.

“Would you mind if I felt what it’s like without?” she asks. “Just for a little while?”

Would I mind?

Would. I. Fucking. Mind?

I’d drag my balls through broken glass for the mere opportunity. I’d father her children. I’d make her my wife.

“You can’t get me pregnant.” Her voice is breathy. “I’m on the pill.”

I guess that’s a bonus for now, but filling her with my babies is definitely an urge I could explore.

“Do it” is all I can say.

My impatience is excruciating. The way she stares hungrily at my dick is too much of a fucking thrill.

I’m already seeping at the tip.

“Will you talk me through it?” She releases my shaft and rises above me, her expression gaining an apprehensive edge as she discards a pair a black lace panties, then plants her knees on the mattress beside my hips. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to be so fucking good at this, Ollie. Just take your time and guide my cock to that sweet pussy.”

She swallows and reclaims my length, tilting it toward her.

“Now rub me against your slit. Show me how wet you are.”

Her breath hitches as my tip presses into her. It’s the slightest touch. An excruciating tease. Then she’s dragging me back and forth along her slickness, drenching my crown with her need.

“Good girl,” I groan. “You’re so fucking ready for me.”

She nods. Pants. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I’m all yours. Sink down on me.”

Her exhale is ragged. Shaky.

She’s nervous.

“There’s no rush.” I fight against temptation, my palms sweating. What I wouldn’t give to tear that blouse and expose her tits. To force her mouth to mine as I thrust balls deep. But we can do all that when she’s ready.

She won’t get another first.

She slowly lowers, the tight grasp of her cunt fitting perfectly around me.

I tense my muscles. Clench my teeth.

She’s so perfect, I can’t fucking take it.

“Just like that, Pyro.” My tone is guttural. “Keep sinking onto my dick. You feel incredible.”

“You’re bigger than my toys.” She latches onto my shoulders, lowering farther.

“Go slower. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” She meets my eyes, her nails digging into my skin. “I’m enjoying how you stretch me.”

Fuck.

My pulse thrums in my gut. My thighs. My groin.

Every nerve tingles with a heightened sense of her as she continues to lower, inch by agonizing inch, until she’s fully seated.

I groan at the perfection.

She whimpers, rocking her hips, beginning to gently ride.

Fucking her without protection probably wasn’t the best idea if I wanted to play my A game. As if that flawless virgin pussy wasn’t enough. Now I have to deal with heightened sensation and the incredibly smooth glide.

“Fuck, Ollie. You take me so well.”

The oscillation of her sheath is phenomenal. The roll of her ass in my lap a goddamn dream.

“How does it feel?” I swallow over the desert claiming my mouth.

“Amazing.” She guides her lips over mine, the contact frazzling my control.

“Take advantage while you can.” I kiss her hard. Fast. I rock into her as she slowly undulates, each glide of her tight cunt a thrill and a curse. “I can’t keep my hands off you for much longer.”

She whimpers, fucking me like an angel, tempting me like the devil.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Heaven and hell.

Bliss and torment.

“Touch me,” she whispers into my mouth. “I want your hands everywhere.”

The green light has me frantic.

I start yanking my arms from their confinement, my right escaping, my left getting stuck on the buttoned shirtsleeve.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I swing the material around her back, ravaging her mouth as she continues fucking me while I use my free hand to fight the restriction.

I yank. I tug. I pull.

She chuckles into my mouth. “Do you need help?”

“I need you to quit feeling so fucking good because if I don’t get my hands on you soon I’m going to die.”

She rocks her hips a little harder, the taunting minx dragging a hoarse growl from my throat. But I get that goddamn arm free, and then I’m all over her, my fingers undoing her blouse buttons.

“Keep riding me, Ollie. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” I drag my tongue over hers, stroking harder, deeper.

She increases her pace.

“You’re at home on my dick, aren’t you, my pretty little Pyro?” I release the last button and drag my palms up her waist to cup those phenomenal tits. “You were born to ride it. It’s fucking yours.”

She mewls, the needy, feminine sound driving me wilder. She grinds harder.

I drag a palm over her sternum, my fingers touching metal, the contact making me spiral.

She still wears my ring—after everything she’s been through, despite all the suffering and the pain—she still wears my fucking ring.

“You can get rid of this,” I growl.

She breaks the kiss, pulling back with concern.

“I want to put one on your hand.” I glide my finger through the white-gold loop and drag her back to me. “It can be a commitment ring.” I kiss her. “An engagement ring.” I kiss her harder. “Hell, I’d make it a fucking wedding ring if you’d let me. But I want it somewhere everyone can see.”

Her breaths shudder against my lips as she kisses me back, fucking me, shoving me closer to the edge of oblivion.

“Tell me you’ll wear it.” I release the ring and grasp her chin, unable to get enough.

She nods. Panting. Gasping.

“Tell me,” I demand. “I want to hear it, Ollie.”

She cups my cheeks, inching back and looking me in the eye, her pussy not pausing in its agonizing assault. “I’ll wear it. I’ll always wear it.”

I grab her hips around the bunched skirt and drag her harder against me, the two of us moaning in unison.

“You’re mine,” I growl.

“And you’re mine,” she demands.

“So fucking yours, Pyro. Nobody else’s.” I shove to my feet, taking her with me.

She wraps her legs around me and clings to my shoulders, never stopping the rock of those smooth hips.

I shuck my pants while she uses my dick, testing my restraint, fucking tempting me to blow.

“Are you ready for something different?” I inch us back toward the bed.

She nods. “Please.”

I groan. “I fucking love when my good girl begs.” I climb onto the mattress, laying her on her back, settling between her thighs.

I hover above her, poised on one elbow as I take charge, pulling out, then thrusting home.

“Oh, God.” Her eyes widen.

I smirk. “It’s deeper.”

Her head rolls back, her chest arching into mine. “So fucking deep.”

“Do you want me to fuck you like this?”

She nods. Whimpers. “I never want you to stop.” Her nails scratch my shoulders. My back.

It’s too intense. The pleasure and the pain.

Each thrust shoves me closer to the edge.

I’ve waited too long for this moment. Fantasized too much.

“You’re so good at this.” My voice is guttural. “I can’t wait to spill inside you.”

She sucks in a ragged breath.

“Do you like the thought of that, Ollie?” I lean down to murmur in her ear. “Does my good girl like picturing my cum seeping from that tight little cunt?”

She shudders, her core clamping around me. “You need to stop, otherwise I’m going to come.”

“Stop what?” I palm the base of her throat, my rings gently grazing her skin while I nuzzle her neck. “Stop fucking you?” I thrust harder. Faster. “Or stop telling you how much my dick loves being inside you. How much your sopping wet pussy makes me feel like a fucking king.”

She gasps, her back arching. Her grip pulls tight in my hair, my scalp burning.

She’s my undoing. I can barely think through the frenzy.

All I know is that I can’t come without her.

She has to cross the line with me.

“We’re so fucking good together.” I pound into her, adding slight pressure to her throat. “I’ll never get enough.”

“I’m close.” She pants. “Oh, God. It’s right there.”

“That’s it, Pyro.” I graze my teeth along her jaw, praying, begging for her surrender. “Take my dick like a good girl.” I close my eyes, focusing on anything but the way her pussy strangles me. “Come all over my cock.”

“Shit.” She tenses around me, her thighs a vise. “I’m… I’m…”

She cries out her release, the flutter of her core opening the flood gates, the fucking ache of my shaft giving way to pulsing pleasure.

I claim her mouth. Kiss her hard.

We’re all tangled tongues and smashed lips. Panted breaths and thrusting hips.

I lose myself inside her, each pulse of my orgasm rocketing through my entire body.

I groan for her, eating up her whimpers, ringing out each thrust with a delicious grind until we’re one gasping, heaving mess.

I press my forehead to hers as we come down from the peak. I roll onto my side, taking her with me, our bodies still entwined, our legs entangled.

We stare at each other, panted breaths receding, her gentle hands coming to rest on my chest.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods. Boneless. Maybe even mindless. “I’m perfect.”

She sure is.

In every way imaginable.

Her attention strays from mine, her gaze casually moving over my left shoulder.

Shit.

She stiffens, the sudden tensing threatening to push my softening cock out of her.

“I can explain.” I palm her waist, refusing to let her run as her eyes widen on the wall beside my bed, the floor-to-ceiling space filled with hundreds of pictures of her. “It was one of Flynn’s pranks. He did it the night he saw you at Smoke Mirrors. I think the kid got an inkling I was in over my head with you and decided to exploit the situation by downloading all your social media pics.”

Her gaze returns to mine. “That’s a lot of photos.”

“It is.” Three hundred and sixty-one. When I can’t sleep, I lie here counting them.

“You didn’t think to take them down?”

“Are you kidding? Why would I do that? Those images have been the inspiration for a lot of stress relief.”

Her smile turns shy, her breathy laugh tightening my ribs in a way I’ve never felt before. “I’d like to see that so-called stress relief.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be happy to demonstrate.” I kiss her cheek, her nose, her lips. “I’m not ashamed to admit I’m obsessed with you. I don’t want those pictures to ever come down.”

“I’m obsessed with you, too.” She skims her fingers over my pecs. “You make me happy.”

The quiet stretches as we stare at each other, the humor gradually fading from her expression as grief worms its way back in.

She grows cold. Distant.

It fucking guts me to watch her suffer.

“Remy…” Her nose scrunches as tears build in her eyes. “I’m really sorry, but I promise what’s about to happen has nothing to do with the sex.”