The Mobster’s Masseuse

People live like this? In real life?

Walker sets me down after carrying me over the threshold and threads our fingers together, leaning close to capture my gaze. Snaring it.

There are so many different facets of Walker and every time I think I have him pegged, he introduces me to another side of him. He’s a ruthless criminal. He’s jealous, covetous. But he’s also got a great sense of humor. He’s caring, generous. Sexy. My God, he’s so sexy, it should be against the law.

He’s a kidnapper. That’s a definite strike.

But when I think of how kind and patient he was to Richie, who clearly has a learning disability, I know there must be more good than bad inside of him. There was no mistaking the way his friend looked at him, as if he hung the moon.

And he wants to hang mine.

More like he’s demanding to hang it.

Bolstering my resolve to regain my independence at the earliest opportunity, even if it means tying sheets together and climbing out the window, I break blistering eye contact with Walker and survey the rest of the room.

The bed sits against the far wall and could accommodate a gymnastics floor routine, it’s so freaking huge. Why is it so huge?

Does more than one person usually sleep in it?

“Whoa,” he murmurs, rubbing a thumb over the back of my palm. “What lit that fire in your eyes?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you recorded your last orgy.”

His crack of laughter makes me jump. “You’re jealous? Meadow, you’re the only woman to set foot in this room besides Helen and only because she changes my sheets once a week.”

“Why do you have such a huge bed?”

“Because I can. No other reason.” Before I know what he’s going to do, he picks me up and sits me down on the edge of the wide bed, stepping between my thighs. His hands lift to cup my face. “I’ll never want another woman as long as I live. I’ve been alive for thirty-five years and I’ve never even had a serious girlfriend. Know why? No woman has even made a passing impression. Then you walk in and fucking sink me. Just like that. I’ve been waiting for you, Meadow. Just you.” I’m reeling from the sincerity in his voice when I feel his hand around my throat. “And I think it goes without saying that if you ever go near another man, I will wring this pretty little neck. Won’t I?

“Yes,” I breathe, shocked to feel my sex growing wet over his promise.

Okay, not completely shocked. I’ve made myself wet with fantasies of being dominated, being owned, for years. And the reality is so much more potent.

“Good girl.” He leans in and brushes our lips together. “I got a new reason for wanting extra space in bed, though, don’t I? Going to need room for all the ways I want to fuck my tight wife.”

I’m not your wife.

That’s what I should be saying, but instead I let him fuck my mouth with his tongue, the vibrations of his hungry groans rippling down my body.

“You stay here, gorgeous,” he says hoarsely, pulling away but continuing to fondle my breasts and thighs with strong hands. “You take a bath, get comfortable, put on something I can take off easily and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Are those my hands, pulling him closer by the collar? “Where are you going?”

Danger glints in his deep blue eyes. “If I don’t handle the situation with your ex-boss before we fuck, I’m worried I’ll be too rough with you. Ain’t over what he did, Meadow. Might never be. My blood’s still running hot.” His thumbs meet at my core and rub the seam of my romper against my clit. “I’d die before taking my anger out on my baby and her sweet, little pussy.”

I’m swamped in heat. My nipples are hard and I want his weight pressing me down, his big body rolling between my thighs. But I’m a prideful piece of work, so I gasp, “Who s-says we’re going to have sex?”

Walker’s laugh is rich and male. “While you’re lying here waiting for me in your wet panties, think about how you want to redecorate this room.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Before you start changing furniture and paint colors, though, I want to check to see how one thing looks in this room.”

“What?”

I’m flipped over onto my stomach, face down on the bed, before I can take my next breath. My romper is yanked down. All the way down. Along with my panties. The material of both garments remains bunched at my ankles and I can feel Walker stepping back to run inspecting eyes over my exposed buttocks. “Goddamn, gorgeous,” he grits out. “Mmm. Yeah, that ass looks real good right where it is.”