Page 15 of Sam to the Rescue
“Me you too.” Barely able to utter a coherent sentence, my fingers circle his cock, my thumb resting on the tip.
When a bead of liquid forms, he hisses through his teeth. “I need you somethin’ fierce.”
Yesterday’s assassination attempt must’ve affected him more than he’d admitted. For a rambling man, he can be pretty silent. Usually, at those times, I’m accommodating. Unfortunately, hard, loud and fast doesn’t cut it with a sleeping child down the hall.
Instead, I lean over and open the drawer beside the bed, and grab my online surprise.
“Damn, girl.” His eyes go wide at the fuzzy handcuffs and heated lotion. Without hesitation, he hitches my wrists to the wooden stiles on the headboard, slips off the covers, and stares until the black centers of his eyes cover the brown.
Most of my pregnancy weight is gone but I’m still uncomfortable with my body and this is the first time I’ve laid bare without a blanket since Mikey was born. He kisses the stretch marks, tongues my belly button, and works his way down.
Spreading my thighs wide, he licks the full length of my clit and I bite down on my lip to prevent the moan in my throat from exploding into the silence. Oh God, silent-cuffed-sex is rapidly rising to the top ten in my list of favorites.
The chains rattle as the desire to both touch and be touched overwhelms me. Looking up from between my legs, Suds winks, his finger enters and he curls his knuckle. As he presses from within, he sucks my nub and I come so unexpectedly, I can’t breathe.
As fast as you would expect from a Navy SEAL, he climbs up my body, unlatches the cuffs, and thrusts in deep.
Oh, oh, oh shit.I chomp on the pillow case as he rides my climax and brings me higher. Slamming into my body, he moans deep and low, then increases his pace.
All of a sudden, I’m on the brink of a second huge ‘O’. My nails dig into his back and my ankles latch right behind his knees. In and out, he grows wilder with each plunge.
“Fuck.” His voice cracks, his cock thickens, and with one final, soul-wrenching connection, he releases inside me.
Twice more, he grunts, empties, and collapses. We must sleep because when I open my eyes, the sun outside shines brighter.
While my son babbles and my husband snores, I slide out of bed. Then, I kiss Sebastian’s forehead and when he doesn’t move, I figure he hasn’t slept for days. The best thing I can do is take the baby for a walk and let him catch a few solid hours of REM. With any luck, after, I can finish some work.
Mikey’s hungry and as he latches down, a dagger digs into my already bruised boob. Putting a finger into the side of his mouth, I loosen his grip and he nurses normally. I love these quiet times between us and the thought they might end soon causes me some sadness until I think of coffee.
Mmm. Coffee, coffee, coffee, otherwise known as joe. I would bathe in the stuff if I could. With both breasts equally drained, I place my little man into the high chair, feed him applesauce and cream of white shit, also known as wet cement.
Once he’s washed and dressed, I empty my pockets of the cleaning pellets, put them in a zip lock bag, and stash them in my purse-slash-baby-go-bag. Monday, Rose and Mia leave the house early so no shoutout alarm is needed.
I lower my stairs into their empty apartment. Babe in one arm, a ton of crap in the shoulder bag, I walk through their living room, past the iron railing, and down to the bottom floor. Joey looks up where he sits at his laptop and Kimmy plays with his cell phone at his feet.
“Yo. Where’re youz off to?”
“Going to the office. Suds is asleep upstairs.”
“You need me to come with?”
“Nope. I’m good.” I smile sweetly. My cousin means well but damn, I can walk down the street without a babysitter.
With Mikey singing his daddy song and strapped into the stroller, we pause on the sidewalk in front of the martial arts school. Inside, black belts spar. Huh. One of the big guys has a familiar blue tat on his neck. The gear matches the jerk’s from the gun club.
Taking out my phone, I snap his picture through the window. At my PI office, I place my son in his playpen, fire up my computer, and send the image to Jason. Almost immediately, the artificial intelligence image pops up on my screen.
Today, he’s dressed all in black, with black hair and dark sunglasses. “Good morning, Samantha.”
“Good morning.” I ignore the new look. “What can you tell me about the tattoo I just sent?”
“I have found two hundred and fifty-six references. The image is mostly associated with a group called, The Cognizant, also known as The COGs.”
“A gang?”I’m surprised I never heard of it.
“No. They are an online group sharing a similar belief system.” The fake man stops, lowers his sunglasses to the tip of his nose, and blinks, waiting for my next question.
“What do they believe in?”