The Kingpin’s Weakness Page 6

  We stay like that for long minutes, Easton rocking me in the middle of campus while people watch from a safe distance, his ring of security standing alertly nearby. But little by little, our embrace begins to change. His hot breaths on my neck turn me warm and pliant…and his big palm moves down my back to rest on my backside. His shaft grows engorged between us, our hands turn greedy for touch. “Now,” he murmurs into my neck, his fingers biting into the flesh of my bottom. “There’s a little matter of you going on a date we need to…handle.”

  “We do?” I whisper, trying not to squirm.

  “Oh yes.” He carries me toward the parking lot, his security team surrounding us on all sides, hands poised inside their jackets. “Daddy didn’t like that.”

  And his guards stay positioned around the SUV while Easton takes me roughly, loudly, thoroughly in the backseat, my knees shoved up near my ears, reminding me over and over again exactly who I belong to. Forever.

  Epilogue

  Easton

  Five Years Later

  I never thought happiness was possible for me. Not until her.

  Now I stand on the private beach in front of our house, Scout wrapped in my arms as the fireworks go off overhead. Whitney and her husband eat cake on paper plates, feeding bites to their children and laughing at their antics. It’s my birthday, but I hardly notice, because every day feels so significant. Special. Scout makes it so.

  True to my word, I’ve spent the last five years building alliances all over the city. I’ve legitimized my opponents, instead of competing with them for territory. I’ve helped expand their wealth, made myself indispensable to them. Now I have a network so vast, no one would dare challenge it. Not when the alliance increases all of our power exponentially. Sure, the whole city is run by a ring of criminals now, but so be it. The love of my life is safe and that’s all that matters.

  I tilt my wife’s head to one side and trace the slope of her neck with my lips.

  She turns to face me, awareness, hunger in her eyes and I wish for the fireworks to be over so we can set our own off. Upstairs in our bed. Sometimes I worry that my need for Scout is too incessant, obsessive, intense, but then she looks at me like this. And I know the lust is a two-way street. Wasn’t it just this morning I woke up to having my morning wood ridden by my naked girl, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip to keep from moaning and waking me up?

  Fuck.

  That was hot.

  She is so insanely hot.

  It’s hard to pinpoint when she is at her sexiest. When she’s naked on her back, begging Daddy to go faster? When she’s in one of those tight pencil skirts, focused on work? Or maybe when she’s tipsy on a single glass of wine and dancing in the moonlight in her nightgown…

  I could spend hours pondering this. And I have.

  My wife occupies my every waking thought. Everything I do is with her in mind.

  Our future.

  Scout is indeed working on the team designing the next space shuttle. I had to donate a significant amount of money to NASA for them to allow twenty guards to accompany my wife to work every day, but eight figures tend to make just about everyone amenable.

  Because she’s been working so hard and establishing her career, we haven’t had time to start a family yet. Five years ago, I was still learning to have a wife. Trying to find ways to counteract my panic every time she left the house. I’ll never stop being wildly overprotective and territorial, but I’m able to manage those emotions now. And so when Scout is ready, I’ll give her a child. I’ll give her seventeen, if she wants them, and I’ll find ways to shield them all.

  “I have a birthday present for you,” Scout whispers now, her hand sneaking under my shirt, her fingers threading through my chest hair.

  I lean down and kiss her slowly, winding our tongues together until she makes my favorite mewling sound in her throat. “You’re my present. Every single day. The gift that keeps on giving.” I wink at her. “Especially this morning.”

  Her cheeks turn pink and I marvel at her continued ability to blush, after all the depraved things we’ve done together in bed. Not to mention the new ways we’ll invent to make each other crazy. There’s no bottom to our well of creativity.

  When are these fireworks going to be over again?

  “It’s something else,” she says, smiling shyly, starlight reflected in her eyes.

  I tuck some loose hair behind her ear. “Tell me, cutie.”

  She adds a second hand beneath my shirt, tracing the contours of my chest and my cock takes notice of her appreciation, hardening in my briefs. “You know how I completed that big project at work a couple of weeks ago?” She waits for my nod. “Well we have to wait for another department to develop the next series of parts, before we can move on to the final step. Meaning…if I wanted to take some personal leave, now would be the time.”

  My heart beats faster. “Yeah?”

  “Happy birthday, Easton.” Her fingertip trails down to my belt buckle, tugging on the leather, her own breath turning short. “You should spend it getting me pregnant.”

  My dick is straight up now, throbbing. “You’re off the pill?”

  Her nod is enthusiastic.

  She’s over my shoulder before the next firework goes off, her laughter tinkling in our wake as we climb the stairs. By the time we make it to the bedroom, my heart is lodged in my throat and I can barely speak, I’m so grateful for my wife. For the happiness she’s given me. And as I often do, I shudder, remembering the morning on her college campus when she cried and I didn’t know…didn’t know if she’d take me back. It’s what I’m thinking about when I slide my cock into her wetness and rock deep, looking into her eyes, knowing this could be it.

  I could get her pregnant.

  She wants it, too. Wants it bad.

  Her thighs are spread wide, her hands gripping my ass, urging me to ride her roughly, every pound of my hips causing the headboard to crack off the wall. My groans are hoarse, her moans more desperate than usual. A female who knows she’s being bred, welcomes it, just like she welcomed me into her heart. And when we come together, I bear down and shake from the impact of my love for her, the life we’re creating.

  “I love you, Scout,” I growl into her neck, still spasming inside of her.

  “I love you, too,” she gasps back, clinging to me.

  And ten months later, our love expands to include one more.

  THE END

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  Whitney and Maxim’s Story.

  THE FIGHTER’S PRIZE

  Whitney’s father is up to his eyeballs in gambling debts and now he’s placing her as the wager on a no-holds-barred MMA fight. But she refuses to have zero say in her own destiny. So she decides to motivate the Russian fighter, Maxim “Madman of MMA” Semenov, with a kiss. A kiss that turns into so much more and has the Russian vowing to win the fight and claim her forever…

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