Page 41 of Married with Blood
She shimmied out of her pants, taking her time to wiggle and squirm, showing off her fine ass.
“What’s the rush?” she asked innocently.
“You don’t mind a little dirt, do you?” I asked as I freed my cock.
Out in the open, under the desert sun, this was different. Taboo. Naughty. But I didn’t fucking care. No one was around.
I slapped her hands on the hood of the rusty, dirt-caked vehicle, a silent order for her to bend over and keep her hands there. Dust billowed up from her palms hitting it, but she obeyed, arching her back and sticking her ass out to me. She wasn’t frilly, getting down on her hands and knees in the dirt to physically be involved in pointing out where trackers could be located on the undercarriage of the trucks. She wasn’t afraid to be out here, dressed down and walking around in the heat with me to check things out.
I thrust in and groaned at the exquisite tightness of her pussy sucking me in.
“Fuck.”
I gritted my teeth and tried not to come too soon.
Most of the time, I could manage to keep my desire at bay until I got her alone at home.
But it became immensely clear that she was more passionate and less icy when she was included. Letting her be involved with the planning of the smuggling routes proved that she wasn’t just a pretty thing to fuck.
When she was giving input, I valued it too, because she really did know what she was talking about, well-versed with arms and memorizing routes.
At the end of the month, I headed out to a handoff site where we could check in with Dean. The chips and other devices that he was picking up weren’t going to result in a significant saleafterward, but it made more sense to accept the run than pass on it.
“Ready?” I asked her as she sat in the passenger seat.
She nodded. “Will I be armed on the site?”
No judgment. No whining or demanding. She was asking me like I was her boss.
I supposed I was. When I wasn’t fucking her. I wasn’t going to spend the time dwelling on what label suited her the best. At a time like this, with her seated as my “copilot”, she was more like a planner I hired than a wife I’d been arranged to.
“No.” I glanced at her, expecting her to roll her eyes. She’d proven a couple of weeks ago that she knew how to shoot. An hour at the range with her showed me how skilled she was, and even that had turned me on and had me taking her as soon as I could.
“Only because you’ll be right there with me.”
If I ever had to worry about her safety, I’d let her have the means to protect herself.
Self-defense was a matter I wouldn’t compromise on, and yes, I did trust her not to use her gun against me. It’d taken me a while to come to that assessment, but I stood by it.
An hour later, though, when I stood with her in the open stretch of the highway, backing up Dean as he received the crates he was supposed to collect, another car approached in the distance.
I narrowed my eyes, not expecting anyone to come this way on this abandoned road. Travelers could get lost. Anyone could wind up on the wrong route, but as the car came into viewand guns were held out the windows, I knew this wasn’t a coincidence.
“Get down!” Carina shouted at me, grabbing my sleeve as she harshly pulled me toward her.
She’d noticed the guns first, and her instinct was to yank me closer.
In a split-second decision, I tucked into her, wrapping my arms around her, and dove for cover next to the rear wheel of the car Dean had driven.
14
CARINA
Iheld my breath as I dropped down hard. Gravel and hard, sunbaked dirt gave me no cushion as Maksim tackled me. I grunted at the impact and kept my head up to avoid smacking it. His arms were locked around me as we rolled, and I clung to him with my arms around his neck to brace his head from hitting any surfaces either.
Fuck. What thefuckwas that?
The runners had left not even five minutes ago. They’d handed over the crate. They waited while Dean and Maksim checked the contents of it, then they left with the confirmation from someone on their end that the money had been sent and verified.
