Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Now,” he begs and that word nearly makes me come again.
I turn as he thrusts into my mouth. I moan, licking, sucking, tasting my pussy on him, and he comes in seconds, filling my throat and tongue. I moan and suck and swallow every drop, rubbing his tip with my palm when he’s done and licking that off too.
His body collapses beside mine. His arms snake around me and pull me against him. I’m safe here in his arms. Safe and floating and happy.
“Good fucking girl,” he says low in my ear. “God, you’re such a good girl.”
We stay like that until the sweat cools on our bodies, and I’m thinking, maybe this can work. I can be a mother and I can be a wife to this man. If he can make me feel like this, like the outside world doesn’t matter so long as we’re together, I can do almost anything.
We balance each other. That’s what he said, right?
I need him to ground me, and I’ll do the same for him.
32
CONNOR
It’s not my style, giving up control.
I hate letting my father go anywhere dangerous. He’s a good man, Cathal Maguire. Part of a hellhole of a family but kept his hands clean. Did his best to raise me after Mom died. Always has been the heart and soul of our family, the man I turn to for moral advice, a calm and centered presence.
Now he’s strapping on body armor and clipping a mic to his shirt.
“You sure this’ll work?” he asks, tapping it.
“Yes, and don’t do that again.” I point at the bud in my ear. “It’ll blow out my freaking skull.”
“Wouldn’t want that, though it might be a small improvement.” Dad finishes dressing and buttons up his shirt. “How do I look?”
“Like an asshole.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I should’ve gotten a fresh cut.”
“Dad—“
“Stop. It’ll be fine. I need to do this.”
I want to keep arguing. My father hasn’t put himself in danger before. He’s strong in other ways: a family man, a dependable worker, but this isn’t him.
I hold a gun out. “You should probably take one.”
He pushes it away. “I’d end up shooting myself most likely. Deck’s not here to kill me.”
“You sure?”
“What would he gain?” Dad puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be alright. Stick to the plan.”
“Same to you, old man.”
His grin is almost comforting.
Dad leaves alone in his Mercedes. Marcus follows with the forward team in a black truck, keeping to a steady distance. I bring up the rear in a surveillance van kitted out with listening equipment and multiple drones for camera images.
This isn’t my specialty. I’d rather be in Dad’s place, out on the front lines, taking all the risk. But Deck would bolt if I appeared. My cousin’s a traitor, but he isn’t stupid.
“You good, brother?” Marcus’s voice comes over the comms system.
I radio him back. “Fine. Happy. Having fun.”
“That’s how it should be.”
I watch the city pass outside the window. “You ever wonder why Deck did it?”
“Nah, not at all. Deck’s always been a prick.”
“Seriously.”
“I’m not kidding. Deck resented you from the moment you took power. He’s traditional, and that’s exactly why he couldn’t lead. He would’ve kept the Maguires in the Dark Ages.”
“I used to think I wanted to be more like him. Tough, a little crazy.”
“Yeah, look where that got him.” I listen to the static before Marcus speaks again. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“I know that.”
“But you need to hear it, don’t you? Deck made his call. Now you have to make yours.”
“For the family.”
“Damn right.”
I let the conversation drop as we roll toward the edge of the city and a warehouse owned by WashCo. It’s dark and late, past ten, and nobody’s working anymore. The front gate was left open, but we park on the far side of the building near a service entrance. I doubt Deck even knows about it. Once I’m in position, I release the camera drones and turn on Dad’s feed, but all I get is him listening to Willie Nelson in the car and humming to himself.
I get eyes on his car a few moments later. Dad’s parked in the main lot outside the structure. There are no other vehicles around. I’m anxious, wondering if Deck’s going to show, if he maybe spotted the drones on his approach, but I shouldn’t have worried. A few minutes later, three cars arrive and circle around Dad before coming to a halt.
Deck’s the first out of a dark gray sedan. Dad whispers over the mic, “Showtime.”
I say nothing. He can’t hear me anyway. I lower the drone to get a better view.
Deck looks like shit. His shirt’s dirty and untucked. He looks like he hasn’t showered in a day or more. His eyes are rimmed with red and shadowed in black. There are a few other soldiers with him, but only a few, and none look happy.