“Fuck, you are so amazing. You’re stretching me so good,” he chokes out.

  I stop from time to time to check in with him and add more lube to my fingers or squirt it inside his body. Seeing his hole suck in the lube is… I don’t know if I have another in me, but my cock twitches regardless.

  “Do it now,” he shouts, pushing down on my hand.

  Pulling my hand out partway, I tuck my thumb between my fingers and push inside, stopping briefly at the knuckles, admiring how much his hole stretches for me.

  “It’s so good, so good,” he chants. “I didn’t think…I didn’t know…it could…be…like this.”

  After a few more seconds of admiring his stretched-out rim, I push in up to my wrist. I pause, letting his body adjust, feeling it relax around me, and then I twist my hand, enjoying the hot, tight, slick stretch of his channel.

  “Fuck, you’re inside. All the way inside. Oh, your fucking knuckles are right…there. Again, please,” he begins as I slowly work my knuckles over that one particular spot.

  Adding a bit more lube, I push in a bit more, drinking in his moans. Finally, I twist my wrist so my fingers find the bump, the place inside him that makes him light up like a Christmas tree. Tapping my fingers against it like a piano player, I pause when his chest begins to rise and fall in a violent pant.

  “Too much?”

  He shakes his head, whining breathlessly, “Don’t stop, don’t…stop. So perfect. So perfect.”

  I continue to play at his nerves, tapping up and down before switching techniques and twisting to give him my knuckles, driving a gentle fist against that sensitive spot of real estate as I stroke in and out.

  With the next twist and push, his hips tilt to the side as he chokes on a scream. “Deeper,” he begs, even as his voice shakes.

  I give him what he wants, deepening my thrust, dragging my knuckles back and forth as he struggles, arches, and twists, completely unselfconscious as he chases the sensation.

  I press my hand on his belly, reveling in the feel of my fist inside him, feeling the pressure from both sides. His cock twitches, and he lets out another mighty shout, his taint pulsing, his rim tightening against my arm.

  His shouts are incoherent as his sac draws up close. I help him along by stroking his cock until he finally arches off the bed and cum dribbles down my fingers.

  He’s been practically milked dry, so the modest amount of cum has nothing to do with the size of his orgasm, especially considering how violently he’s still spasming around my arm.

  Fisting him deep one final time, I lean forward and suck his head into my mouth, stealing that bit of cum, sucking him until he taps the bed.

  “Yeah?” I ask, checking in.

  He whimpers in response.

  Slowly, carefully I withdraw from his body, grinning as I use his expensive shirt to wipe the lube and my cum from my hand and arm.

  He rolls to his side, and I come up behind him.

  “Your hole,” I say reverently, pushing my cock inside the slack channel, giving him something to tighten around as I wrap my arms around his chest. “That was amazing.”

  “You have no idea what you just did,” he intones, his officious, Austrian accent so fucking sexy.

  “Yes?” I ask, lazily swirling inside him. “What did I just do?”

  His body begins to contract around me, still loose, but his muscles slowly remember their purpose.

  “You’ve made me your problem. If you think you can get away from me now, you are sadly mistaken.”

  “So I have no choice in the matter?” I ask, inexplicably happy.

  “None at all,” he answers, pulling away from me to lie back on the bed before bringing me in for an intense, sweet, all-encompassing kiss.

  I slide inside him—not trying to come again, just wanting to be near him and ensure he’s recovering well.

  He groans under me.

  “Do you need me to pull out?”

  “I don’t know,” he responds. “It’s such a deep ache, but your cock inside me is like…I don’t know, pushing on a bruise. It’s the kind of bruise I wanted, so pushing on it hurts, but it also makes me smile.”

  He clenches the stretched muscle, pulsing it, wincing and smiling as my cock revives.

  His eyes reach mine again. “You’re so hard already.”

  “You’re the one playing with my cock.”

  I grin as he pulses around me again and again. Unable to take the teasing a second more, I pull from his body, my cock dripping with everything. I take myself in hand and stroke quickly. I’m aching everywhere, but I don’t regret the final, delicate little orgasm.

  We shower again, and I kneel behind him, examining his puffy, spent hole. He’s nearly recovered and doesn’t complain too hard when I give him a few healing licks. We get back into his bed, clinging to one another, and I find I can’t wait to do this all over again.

  12

  WILHELM

  I wake the next morning feeling sore, achy, and needy. Also…why am I in this bed alone? I look to my side and find a note. Disappointed, I pull my hair into a bun and lie against my pillows to read it.

  Wilhelm,

  I have enjoyed getting to know you. You may have been right about the romance. Playing with you in all of these aspects was fantastic. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Let me know the next time you’ll be at The Anonymous. I’ll move heaven and earth to join you.

  With burgeoning affection,

  Nigel

  PS—My apologies, but I could not allow Sterling to see another sunrise. We will have to choose another target for our next game.

  I grin at his words, but when my hand drifts over the empty side of the bed, my chest aches.

  Hm.

  It’s still warm, as though maybe I’ve only just missed him.

  Hopping up, I pull on my tux pants and step into my shoes. My white shirt is ruined from last night’s activities, so I grab a T-shirt from my duffel and quickly make my way down the elevator.

  Now…where would he go?

  “Mr. Wilhelm? May I help you with something?”

  This morning’s concierge is a pocket hottie, only coming up to my hip. He’s dressed rather nattily, a deep contrast to the hodgepodge I’ve got on.

  I scratch the back of my head. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen Mr. Nigel this morning?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but I did see Mr. Sterling go down to the garage just now. I noticed from the morning report that you are familiar with him.”

  I scowl, fisting my hands.

  Adjusting his smart glasses, the concierge looks around and leans in. I follow suit, interested in what he has to say.

  “You are aware, of course, that the club has very strict rules of engagement.”

  “Yes,” I mutter.

  “Those rules, however, apply to the club and only the club,” he says, raising his brow.

  “Really?” I ask, incredulous. “Not to, say, the parking garage?”

  “That is the dominion of the city, I’m afraid.”

  “Interesting. Thank you,” I say, making a note to tip him handsomely.

  He dips his chin. “Most welcome, sir.”

  I turn to leave, and he stops me again. “Sir, before you go, I hear that the sunrise over the rock quarry can be quite beautiful, given the right circumstances.”

  I pull back, confused…until he raises his brow.

  “Thanks again.”

  I bow my head to the helpful concierge and then race to the elevator that’ll take me to the parking garage, impatience riding me hard on the way down. The doors open, and the garage area seems deserted. I start running in the direction of the Maybach, just in case that’s where Nigel went, then pivot toward a sound coming from outside the building.

  Racing to the marked exit, I end up in an alley next to a dumpster. When I peek around the dumpster, my heart stops.

  Nigel is wrangling with Sterling, who is fighting for his life. Nigel’s eyes, however, tell me Sterling has no chance of surviving this encounter. Wrestling him into position, Nigel puts Sterling in a chokehold that quickly subdues him.

  Looking up, Nigel catches my eye before gripping the man’s jaw and the top of his head.

  “Wait!” I shout, holding out my hands. “Don’t kill him yet!”

  “Why not?” he asks, still holding Sterling in a deadly grip.

  “It’s too good for him. He needs to suffer for what he’s done, don’t you think?”

  Nigel’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “The concierge says the rock quarry is really beautiful this time of day. Maybe we should check it out before you go.”

  Sterling struggles again, so Nigel tightens his hold and puts him to sleep.

  “You really wanna go all the way out to the rock quarry?”

  I hold up my hands. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth. A quick ride to an abandoned rock quarry miles from human eyes and ears would be nothing.”

  Nigel considers the unconscious man in his arms, then looks back at me. A slow smile curls his lips. “Let’s go then.”

  I bring around the Maybach, which, as luck would have it, is where we stashed the cudgel and the knife. Shoving Sterling into the trunk, I drive us out to the rock quarry, careful to obey the rules of the road on the way there.

  When we open the door, Sterling leaps out, screaming for help, for mercy, for redemption.

  “Yeah…no.” Nigel spins the cudgel in his hand for emphasis. “None of those are on offer for you today.”

  I’ll give the piece of shit this: he stayed alive longer than I would have guessed.

  Looking down at the remains of Sterling Minhaus, Nigel wipes the sweat off his brow.

  “So do we just roll him over the edge?”

  “That seemed to be the implication to me.”

  Resting his boot on Sterling for a moment, Nigel shades his eyes as he looks out over the rock quarry. “You know, it really is nice out here.”

  “I wouldn’t mind coming out here to kill someone with you again.”

  He looks into my eyes, sweeping a bit of Sterling’s cranium off my collar. “I’d like that. But first, can I use that shower of yours again? It got a little messy near the end.”

  “Only if you show me your neck-breaking technique. I saw the way you had Sterling’s head. You were definitely going to kill him in one go.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You broke that man’s neck outside the barn.”

  “True, but he didn’t die right away. Gasped like a fish for an uncomfortable amount of time before he finally asphyxiated. I just want one clean kill before I perish, you know?”

  Nigel wipes his hands on his thighs, laughing. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  I pull him in and kiss the one clean spot on his forehead. “Thank you.”

  Taking a good look at me, he stifles a laugh. “What are you wearing?”

  I look down and sigh. “I love Dolly Parton,” is all I can say for myself.

  “It’s sparkly,” he says, extending a finger to trace the glittered lettering of her name on my shirt.

  “Shut up.”

  After we shower, we somehow end up in bed again, one last romp for the old memory bank. After, I walk him down to the parking garage.

  Shaking his head, he comes in for a kiss, then pulls back with regret in his eyes.

  “I have to go.”

  “Me too.”

  We both take a deep breath, and I feel a little better knowing this is as hard for him as it is for me.

  “You have my number?”

  “I do.”

  “Then use it,” he says, sneaking in another kiss before walking backward toward his waiting Maybach.

  He lets himself in and turns on the engine, which purrs quietly in the deserted alley. I watch as he takes off, far more sedately than I would have. Such a waste of a good engine.

  I have too much to do today to dwell, and I’m already behind, so I make my way back up to my room and get dressed, stopping by the concierge desk with an envelope full of cash.

  The tiny man tips an imaginary hat in my direction, and I walk outside to my waiting car and driver. The driver is familiar with my travel arrangements and takes me directly to the private airfield. My pilot hangs her head out the door, her amazing curls and freckles catching the light.

  “Hey there, stranger!”

  For the first time this trip, I drop my fake Austrian accent.

  “Howdy, sweetheart. How’s your mom?” I ask, letting my natural Texas drawl take over.

  “Oh, you know, world domination on Tuesday, billionaire takeovers on Friday, brunch on Sunday. The usual.”

  She peeks inside the cabin, then looks back at me with a tilt of her head.

  “Looks like you’ve got some company.”

  I swear under my breath and allow the grin to take over my face as I jog up the stairs. Rushing into the cabin, I find those familiar blue-green eyes staring back at me.

  He rises and meets me in the aisle, ignoring the crew and pilot entirely. No longer Nigel, his beautiful, soft Iraqi accent filters through the space.

  “Darling, that was amazing. Though, I must say…surprising me with an op in the middle of our weekend away? Brilliant. I have a brilliant husband.”

  “That I am, my love,” I say, tilting my head at our pilot. “Though, to be fair, it was a last-minute addition. Still, I didn’t want to mess with our vibe by overthinking it.”

  He kisses my forehead, nose, and lips. “I completely understand, habibi. Like I said, perfection. If it was luck this time, let’s do it on purpose for our next getaway.”

  I blush under his praise. “You know me so well. Thanks for going along with it. It made things extra exciting.”

  I sit next to him, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around me.

  Whispering in my ear, he asks, “So…we’ve never done that in bed before. Are you okay? Are you recovered?”

  I answer with a passionate kiss. “I’m going to feel you all the way back home. It’s definitely going into our repertoire.”

  My husband, the love of my life, the light in my smile, chuckles. “As you wish, habibi. As you wish.”

  EPILOGUE

  NIGEL

  “P…no. Please. After the last time, we agreed—”

  “No, you protested. I agreed to nothing. And if you’re going to involve me in your kinky weekend getaways, I get to make you put on a London accent for me.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. Sinking into the bloody accent, I retort, “Fine. Just for you.”

  “Not just for me,” she says, and I can hear the fucking smile on her face. “For Wilhelm too.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. Wilhelm is a good time, but he’s awfully tricksy that one.

  Thirty minutes later, I find myself approaching the concierge at the Menagerie. She looks about seventeen with dyed black hair, black lipstick, and a dizzying number of facial piercings.

  Ah, yes. And a tongue piercing.

  I give her my code to go down to the club, and she holds up her finger. Hm. Not good.

  As I’m trying to figure out the angle, a familiar, trim, average-height man approaches.

  “Mr. Nigel, welcome back to the Menagerie. Will you be taking advantage of our club tonight?” he asks, adjusting his cufflinks.

  “As a matter of fact, I was just about to have your lovely concierge escort me there.”

  “Excellent. I think you’ll enjoy the entertainment on the stage tonight. However, I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you of our house rules. Any form of violence, scrimmage, or heated words will not be tolerated. If you disregard this rule… Well, I’d rather it not come to that.”

  The man doesn’t look like much, but I’ve had my people look into him, and he is deadly. The Boss, the mysterious man who runs the club, never gets his hands dirty. I suppose it is a point of pride that he feels it necessary to send his assassin out to greet me.

  “Agreed. This is meant to be a relaxing weekend, and I will be meeting up with a friend.”

  “Oh, yes. Mr. Wilhelm is already downstairs, waiting for you.”

  “Excellent. In case we need a car service, do you have anyone you would recommend?”

  He puzzles, tilting his head. “I am happy to set up a car service for you, but it was my understanding that you and Mr. Wilhelm prefer to drive yourselves.”

  “We do. However, this visit is a bit last minute, and we did not make arrangements for a car.”

  “But, sir, your Maybach is in its spot, ready to go. Our concierge retrieved it from the airport the last time you were in town. When we heard you were coming, we had it detailed, and its engine runs as beautifully as it always has.”

  Dipping my chin, I’m unable to help the broad smile. I pat his shoulder, and I immediately clock it as a mistake. Retracting my hand, I bow my head.

  “Apologies. And thank you. I appreciate the attention to detail.”

  “We are, as always, sir, at your service.”

  “Are you ready to go down?”

  I startle at the presence of the underage goth punk. She’s in my personal space. Not many can get the drop on me, and fewer are stupid enough to try.

  “You’re a quiet little thing, aren’t you?” I ask, amused.

  She winks. “In this kind of business, it helps to go unseen.”

  She’s not wrong. Hm. I might have my people look into her as well.

  Clearing her throat, she gestures toward the elevator. “Mr. Wilhelm is waiting for you on the second floor.”

  “Of course. Lead the way.”

  I follow her into the elevator and exit into the atmospheric second floor. The singer, this time a young gentleman with Frank Sinatra in his vocal cords, has a voice as smooth as silk. A few card games are going, as well as a dice game here and there, but that’s not where my gaze lands.

  No, my focus is immediately drawn to the lion in the blue suit, waiting for me at the bar, a beer sitting in front of him. He catches my eye from across the room and stands as I near him. Shaking his head, he pulls me into a hug, then looks down, examining me.

 

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