The Mobster’s Masseuse

How can I be so elated to see the man I was trying to flee?

I don’t have time to question my confusing emotions, because Walker is laying me down on the seat, running shaking hands over my body. Up my legs, beneath my shirt and over my torso.

“Are you hurt, baby? Oh my God. Are you fucking hurt?”

I shake my head vigorously. “Just my ankle.”

Walker zeroes in on the body part in question, cupping it in his hands and making a hoarse sound. “I’ll make it all better. I promise.” He sets my ankle back down carefully, before hitting me with glittering eyes. In that moment, I worry he’s gone insane. The light in his eyes is positively unholy. “I’m trying really hard here, Meadow,” he says in a strangled whisper. “I’m trying real fucking hard not to blow up. Because I know I was wrong. I know I was a monster to you, so I’m going to attempt to not strangle you for crawling toward a man with a gun.”

“He was going to shoot you.”

“You just left me, Meadow,” he rasps. “I was almost hoping he would.”

I don’t know what to say to that statement. It fills me with cement.

“I’m only holding on to one ounce of self-preservation. One. And only because there’s a sliver of hope you’ll give me a second chance.”

My heart leaps. “Technically, it would be your third.”

Eyes still on fire, he shakes his head slowly. “You make jokes when I’m hanging on to my sanity by a thread?”

“You knew what I was like. You kidnapped me anyway.”

“Goddammit, I love you so much,” he grits out. “Now please shut up.”

This might be an inappropriate time to laugh. I do it anyway.

The sound sends a flash of tenderness across his face. “Meadow, I’m going to be a jealous asshole over you. I’m going to worry and get irrationally angry if you take chances—like the one you just took—but if you come be with me—”

“Of my own free will?”

“Yes. I will open a massage studio for you. I will have to heavily vet your female only clients, but it will be yours and it will be the best damn studio in Boston. You can come and go with bodyguards. Lots of them. I’m compromising. Do you recognize that I’m compromising?”

A watery sounds bursts out of me. “Yes.”

“You jumped out of a window and almost got taken by my enemies.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and I see that his hand is still shaking. “I’d like to be commended on my composure right now.”

“You’re very composed. The most composed man of all time.” Happiness spreads its wings in my chest as I sit up and climb onto his lap, laying kisses on his cheeks and mouth. “I love you. I love you.”

“You better, Meadow,” he says, nipping at my bottom lip, his hands moving roughly up my thighs to grip my backside. “You fucking better. My world revolves around you now. I love you so much, it could send me over the edge, but it’ll be too bad, baby, because you’re stuck with me.”

“I want to be stuck,” I whisper, rolling my hips and hitting him with some pointed sass. “Within reason.”

Lust kindles between us and ignites. Both pairs of hands attack the waistband of his pants, pushing it down to free his waiting erection. With his tongue skating over my cleavage, he hooks three fingers in the crotch of my panties and rips the material in half, before guiding his shaft to my wet flesh and dragging it up and back. “Take a seat on this fucking throne, my queen.”

My head tips back on a whimper and that’s when I realize the SUV has stopped moving. A glance at the window tells me we’re parked in the driveway and there are at least two dozen men surrounding the vehicle, waiting for us to get out.

“Eyes on me, Meadow. Only me.” He plants his thick sex inside me and I slip down with a moan, lost in the perfection of how he fills me so completely. Walker hisses a breath and tangles his fingers in the strands of my hair, tilting my face to his. “I just killed for this tight pussy. And I’m not waiting to have it.”

“No,” I sob, writhing in his lap. “I don’t want to wait, either.”

His hips lift in a steady rhythm. “You can be the queen when you climb out of the car. I’ll treat you like gold and slaughter anyone who doesn’t.” He turns and throws me down on the seat, positioning my knees over his shoulders and baring down on me with a wild drive of his full shaft. “But right now, you’re the king’s runaway fuck toy and everyone can wait while he gets his fill.”

For the next fifteen minutes, the SUV rocks with the intensity of our grunting, sweaty coupling and there’s something scandalous about it, something extremely naughty—especially when I scream his name loud enough to be heard down the street, let alone in the driveway—but the love shining in his eyes tells me I’ve found my perfect match. The man who will fulfill my submissiveness in bed while loving me for the stubborn, uncompromising woman I am outside of it.