Page 25 of Saxon

I happen to glance down at her—big mistake. Her big turquoise eyes are wide and sad. "Oh, Saxon, I'm sorry. When did he die?"

"Three days ago. My mom shot him and then herself." I wince at the lance of pain I feel when I think about Mom. "Her, I'm sad about. Him, not so much. He shoulda been shot a long fuckin' time ago. Fact is, I should've shot him my own goddamn self."

"That I understand."

”From what Emily said in that rant of hers, it sounds like you would."

"About that—" she starts.

I cut her off. "You wanna explain and talk it out? I'll listen to every word. And I'll probably understand more than most. But you wanna keep your shit to yourself? I'll get that too. You don't owe me shit, Terra. Not now, not ever. It's my fault you’re in danger."

The Estate

Terra

Emily and Tom are sitting side by side on the bed, changed into street clothes—a white tennis skirt and baby blue polo for Emily, and tan chinos with a pastel pink polo for Tom. They're waiting, bags packed.

I frown at them. "You two look fuckin' adorable, you know that? I'm so sorry your wedding got ruined."

Emily stands up, tugs Tom to his feet and shoves him out of the room, popping him affectionately on the ass. "Go talk about…I dunno, football or boobs or something. We need a second."

"Talk about our asses," I say over my shoulder. "He told me he's an ass man."

Tom just shakes his head. "I'm not sure what to say to a guy like that. He makes me feel about six inches tall."

Emily positively melts, hustling over to him and cupping his face. "Baby. I married you. I married you. I love you. I want you. I'm gonna ride your cock tonight, okay? I don't care where we are or who's shooting at us. You and me are gettin' it the fuck on, you hear me? You're gonna put a baby in me and we're gonna be happy."

"You're cool, Tommy," I tell him. "Don’t be intimidated. He's just a dude."

"Who looks like a freaking Abercrombie model and takes people out like Charles Bronson." He sighs. "I'm not intimidated, I'm flat-out scared of him."

"And it takes a real man to admit he's afraid," Emily says. "Go. We'll be out in a minute. Just…you know…don't try to fight him."

Tom laughs at that and exits the room, shutting the door behind him.

Emily whirls on me. "TELL ME EVERYTHING. NOW."

I haul the dress off and start talking as I fish my clothes out of my bag. "He has a magical tongue, he made me come harder than I've ever come in my entire life, including that time I edged myself for two hours with the Hitachi wand." I step into my spare pair of panties—a red thong. "He picked me up, put me on his shoulders, and ate me out like he was dying and my pussy was his salvation."

"Where are your underwear?" Emily asks.

"No clue. He took 'em off and lost ‘em."

"You mean to tell me you've been traipsing around this hotel with your cooch hanging out?"

I snicker. "It's not hanging anywhere, bitch, it's tighter than Fort Knox, I'll have you know. And it's covered, furthermore."