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“No back lying. Got it, Doc.”
I can’t sit in here, minutes after threatening to fuck my woman against the window, and listen to a conversation about positions to fuck her in without popping wood.
Lauren and Dr. Taylor both chuckle, and it causes me to send a glare Lauren’s way. She’s well fucking aware of what’s going on, and I’ll be happy to correct her behavior soon enough.
“And before you ask,” she begins, looking directly at me. “I have more clients coming in so no you can’t have a few private minutes in the room.”
“Jesus Christ,” Lauren mutters.
“You’re sure?” I verify.
Dr. Taylor laughs, but she doesn’t take the chance as she stands in the open doorway while I help Lauren off the table.
“Cockblock,” I mutter to the doctor as we walk past her.
Laughter follows us out of the office.
“Why do you always try to embarrass me?”
I smile as I keep my eyes scanning the parking lot as we make our way to the truck.
“There’s nothing embarrassing about you being so irresistible that I want my dick in you all the time.”
She doesn’t argue, and I know as much as she’s annoyed with what I said, her pussy is wet with the implication that I’d fuck her in the exam room.
“Before you get any wild ideas,” she says as I cup her ass a little too long as she climbs in the truck. “We have that meeting back at the office.”
I close her inside the truck, grumbling as I make my way to the driver’s door.
We’ve kept our promise to each other about not returning to work, but it’s left both of us bored.
Lauren suggested opening an office, a home base of sorts for the men I’ve been sending out on jobs.
I hate the idea, but I don’t hate her, so now we have office space in town.
“I think we need to turn the phone off,” she mutters as we pull up to the front of the building we’re renting space in.
“People will just keep knocking on the door if we do that.”
The company line to the public is that we’re private detectives and private security. We also happen to be booked out for the foreseeable future because all of my scheduling is still done with the guys through the dark web. We look legitimate, but honestly it’s dirty business as usual.
“Maybe a voicemail system?” she suggests. “My patience is wearing thin on people calling to get quoted a price for someone to follow their cheating spouse around.”
“You wanted this,” I remind her, pointing to the fucking logo on the front glass. “I was content to just sit at home with you on my cock all fucking day.”
She smiles but keeps her eyes locked on the Mission Mercenaries sign on the glass door. The skull is a true representation of who we are. The two birds are poetically us and the freedom we found in each other. The flowers? I see them as a waste of space, but Lauren said it looked too fucking macabre without them.
Finnis mali, the end of evil in Latin, is our promise that when the guys go out to work, they are judge, jury, and executioner, no questions asked.
“Do you think we have time to fuck?” Lauren asks as I open her door and help her out of the truck.
My hand immediately goes to my son growing inside of her.
I never thought I’d find a pregnant woman so fucking irresistible, but I think I may keep her knocked up forever with how much she turns me on this way. The idea of my seed inside of her, growing a child in there, makes me a territorial bastard.
“We always have time to fuck, baby,” I promise.
She tries to get away from me, but I don’t allow it until she clears the curb of the sidewalk. She almost face-planted the other day, and although it scared the shit out of me, I made sure to show her the error of her ways once we got inside.