13. Jet #2
“What?”
“Did he tell you to fuck me, too? Is this part of the job?” She shifts her position, shoves her knee against my dick. “Oh my God.”
I just manage to catch her before she can do damage. My fingers dig into her thigh hard enough to get her attention.
“You think my marrying you was a job? You think I’d allow anyone that much control over my life?”
“Wouldn’t you? You love being his enforcer. You’re thriving.”
“Thriving?” Fury rises to the surface, and I feel my grip on her hardening, hurting. “How would you know? You disappeared three months ago. And before that, you’ve barely had contact with anyone including Allegra. What are you doing here, Amal? What is this all about?”
“You think you know me, but you don’t, and this doesn’t concern you so let me go.”
“You think I don’t know you? I know you’re scared. As far as whatever you’re up to not concerning me, the moment you said the words I do, everything about you concerns me.”
“You forced me to marry you!”
“For your own good. I’m here now and you’re safe. So no, you don’t get to keep your secrets.”
“Safe? You’re hurting me.”
I follow her gaze to where I’m gripping her. She’s right. I am hurting her. And scaring her. I know it even if she won’t admit it.
I loosen my hold and the instant I do, she scoots backward and scrambles to her feet. Water splashes as she stumbles out of the bathtub. I’m on her heels and it’s lucky for her because when she slips on the wet floor, I’m there to catch her.
“Don’t touch me!” she cries out, shoving me.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” When I don’t budge, she raises a hand to slap me.
I capture her wrist before she does but instantly she raises the other and I grab hold of that, too, and walk her backward to the wall.
I press her back to it, pinning her wrists over her head and leaning in close.
“Be careful, Little Wife. Be very fucking careful.”
Her eyes search mine, fear inside them. Fear of me. Her heart is racing, I can see it in the wildly beating pulse at her neck and when her gaze moves over the scars and ink on my body, I know she registers one word.
Danger.
She turns her face a little as if readying to be struck. Does she really think I’d hit her?
I draw back and this time, when she tries to pull away, I release her.
The instant she’s free, she grabs a towel and wraps it around herself. I stand back, pushing a hand through my hair because what the fuck just happened? How the hell did that go so utterly sideways?
Amal rushes from the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.
I force myself to give her a minute. Only once I’ve counted to ten do I allow myself to open the door. To go after her.
I stalk out of the bathroom fully naked. Amal glances over her shoulder and rushes across the room and I realize my mistake in the next instant as she fumbles to release my gun from its holster, getting it free and whirling to face me, eyes wild, the gun pointed straight at my chest.
“Stay away from me, Jet! Stay the fuck away!”
Fuck. I make a mental note not to leave my gun lying around for my wife to get hold of.
“Don’t be stupid,” I say, raising my hands palms to her and creeping toward her. “Put my gun down.”
“I’m not stupid and I mean it. Stay away. I don’t want to hurt you!”
I chuckle. Can’t help it. “Sweetheart, I’m more afraid you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Her eyes narrow to slits, fury pronounced on her pretty face. “Well don’t be.” She turns the weapon to aim at the headboard with its intricate embroidery of some king or another and pulls the trigger.
To say I’m surprised to see said king with one eye less is an understatement.
I face her at the same moment she turns to me. She cocks the gun, standing steadier, more confident.
I raise my eyebrows.
“Because I’m not worried about missing my target,” she says, lowering the weapon to point it at my dick. “Now walk away from me.”
“My, my, aren’t you full of surprises?” I ask, and take a step backward, giving her a little space. Just what she’ll need to let down her guard. “You don’t want to hurt that part of my anatomy. You like it too much.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
She shifts the gun to one hand as she squats down to pick up the towel that’s pooled around her feet.
She tries to get it around her as she rises and I take advantage of the moment because she may be an excellent shot but she’s inexperienced and I’m not only stronger than her, but I’m also faster.
When you’ve been close enough to a bullet that it literally carved out a piece of your head, you get fast.
So, when I lunge toward her, she yelps, still holding the towel rather than shifting both hands back to my gun.
I get hold of her gun hand and aim it at the ceiling.
The safety’s not on and when it goes off, she cries out.
I wrap my other arm around her and pull her to me, covering her head as plaster rains down on us.
She looks up at me with wide, panicked eyes. “What did I say about hurting yourself?” I ask, my voice a warning whisper as I spin her around, lifting her around the middle and carrying her to the foot of the bed where I bend her over it and relieve her of my gun.
I set one hand between her shoulder blades keeping her down as she struggles to straighten. Putting the safety on, I set the gun out of reach before turning my full attention back to my wife.
“Let me go, Jet.”
“Can’t fool me twice, Amal.” I take hold of both wrists and stretch her arms over her head, pinning them to the bed with one hand while sliding the other to her ass.
My fingers move over her pussy, squeezing her clit between thumb and forefinger.
She pushes her thighs together, rising up on tiptoe and letting out a whimper.
“You wanted me to make you come?” I ask, doing it again, feeling her body tense beneath mine. “Do you think pulling a gun on your husband earns you an orgasm, wife?”
I let go of her clit and slide my fingers over her damp pussy, pushing two inside her before drawing them out and rubbing her arousal over her clit.
Amal has gone completely still, and I know the moan that escapes her is one she was trying to keep quiet.