“Jag,” I repeated, testing his name out loud, loving how it felt rolling off my tongue.
I glanced back up at those intense blue eyes and gasped. Boss, Jag, looked… uncertain? Was he actually worried about my reaction to his name? The fact that I had that much power sent sparks of heat racing up my spine. Pleasure shot straight to my core and it clenched with need.
“I love it.” I winked and gave him a grin.
The nervous man in front of me relaxed and his shoulders dropped. The tight expression on his handsome face disappeared. Jag released my hand and gently tapped my nose with a finger.
“Don’t tell anyone. If my men found out I’m named after one of the Rolling Stones, I’d never hear the end of it.” Jag rolled his eyes. “My last name is Bosman. It’s why they call me Boss Man. I prefer that to Jag any day of the week.”
I laughed. “No one knows?”
He shrugged. “Milo might know. Maybe the others know, but if they do, they know not to call me Jag to my face.” Jag scowled and I caught a brief glimpse of his darker side, a reminder of how dangerous he was. One blink later, it was gone.
“Well, Jag. I think I’d like that ride now.” A filthy image of me riding Jag’s cock flashed through my mind.
That would be heaven, but I’ll settle for a ride on your bike instead.
Jag put a hand on the countertop on either side of my hips and trapped me against the sink. He was so much taller than me, he had to bend down pretty far for his mouth to hover above mine. I wasn’t sure if I whimpered out loud, but I could have cared less at that point. Internally, I was begging for Jag to kiss me, to press that huge, hot, hard body against mine, to lift me onto the counter, devour my mouth, and sink his cock deep inside my aching, empty pussy.
Once more, I faced disappointment. Jag pushed off the sink and held out a hand. “Let’s go for that ride, doll.”
Jag handed me a shiny red helmet and a black leather jacket that was several sizes too big. He quickly put on his own gear. While I dressed, Jag texted someone. By the time I was done struggling into the massive jacket, I found Jag standing in front of the three incredible machines, all parked in a perfect row.
“Which one, doll? Your choice.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head at his offer. I flicked my gaze back and forth between the expensive bikes and Jag. I waited for the punch line to the joke. Nope, not a joke. Jag’s expression was sincere and slightly amused.
I stumbled over my words. “You… you’re letting me pick?”
Jag’s eyes lit up and he pursed his lips. “Of course I am. So…” He walked over to the first bike, the classic Suzuki. “What’ll it be, doll? The rare racer?” Jag backed up, gaze never leaving mine, until he was next to the bright red Ducati. “The Superbike?” Jag stroked the gorgeous lines of the bike as one would caress a lover. My heart stuttered and my stomach fluttered at the sight of his hands gliding across the surface. Next, Jag moved to the black and green Ninja. “Or the barely street legal sports bike?” My eyes were focused on his thick fingers as they danced down the curves of the last motorcycle.
I walked over to the bikes with a smirk on my face and swung my hips side to side. If he wanted to play games, I could easily get onboard with that. I repeated Jag’s movements and danced my fingers over each machine as I approached the man at the end of the row. I purposely bit my bottom lip and silently cheered as Jag’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth. His neck flushed with desire and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I didn’t stop until we were standing a few inches apart and our bodies nearly touched once more. I rubbed and caressed the cool surface of the Ninja.
“The most dangerous one, of course.” I used my chin to point toward the Kawasaki.
Jag gave me a crooked grin. “I knew you would pick that one. You seem to attract danger, doll.”
I licked my lips. “I don’t attract it, I love it.” I had no idea where these words were coming from. I wasn’t a “live on the edge” kind of girl, despite the drug addiction Mason all but forced on me.
Jag stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me close. “I think you are danger.” The low rumble in his chest combined with the lust-filled look in his eyes made my insides ignite with desire, the blistering heat searing my body.
“Here you go, Boss!”
With a startled yelp, I leapt out of Jag’s arms. He scowled as one of his Men in Black crossed the garage, a pair of red cowboy boots in his hand. Jag snatched them from the man and growled.
“Thanks. Now git.”
Damn, Jag did not appreciate his time with me being interrupted, which was so damn hot. Just like the hint of Texas drawl he let out from time to time.
The man’s eyes went wide and he turned and got the hell out of the garage as fast as he could. The whip-like snap of Jag’s nasty temper was a stark reminder that as charming as he was at times, he was still a vicious man you didn’t want to cross.
“Here, doll. You can’t ride barefoot.” Jag handed me the boots.
My jaw dropped. Jag was such a contradiction. Angry and snarling one second, sweet and thoughtful the next. I shoved my feet into the boots, which, of course, fit perfectly.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Jag swung a muscled thigh over the Ninja to straddle the sleek bike and pressed a button, opening the large rolling garage door. “Hop on, doll.”
Jag’s wicked grin had me rushing to comply. I shoved my helmet on my head and threw my leg over the seat. My thighs nestled against Jag’s ass and despite the thick denim between us, my body throbbed from the contact. I swear I could feel his intense heat radiating through the layers of fabric.
“Hold on tight!” The growl of the engine echoed in the garage. I wrapped my arms around Jag’s waist and pressed my palms against his washboard abs.
Jag cranked the throttle and the powerful machine darted out of the garage, flew down the drive, and shot onto the street. When Jag turned onto the main road, the bike tilted so far to the left, our knees nearly touched the ground. The exhilarating rush from the speed, the wind stinging my skin, the feeling of freedom, had me nearly weeping with joy.
I tightened my grip on Jag and clung to him as if he were the only thread tethering me to the ground as my mind and body soared. The bike picked up speed when we hit a straightaway and all I could think was, I hope this never ends.
Jag
I never should have taken Miri for that goddamn ride the other day. But how could I resist? She was so fucking sexy all greasy and spread out like an offering at the alter of my Suzuki. Who would have thought the tiny little thing with the big green eyes and full red lips was a motorcycle mechanic? And a damn good one at that.
Jesus, I was so screwed.
Fuck giving her the ride. I never should have taken Miri into my home, period, because now that I got a glimpse of who she really was, free from the heroin that was consuming her mind and body, I couldn’t seem to get enough of her. I wanted to be around Miri all the time—to bask in her light, her joy, her way of making every little thing in life seem exciting. What I once thought of as penance had become a punishment, dangling something in front of me I badly wanted, but didn’t deserve to have. But when did not deserving something ever stop me?
What was more shocking was that I had these thoughts even though I hadn’t had sex with Miri. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to rip her clothes off, grab onto her naked body, and shove my cock deep inside her until she screamed. I remembered every second my fingers were inside that tight, wet heat—he ecstasy on her face as she came, the flush on her pale skin, and the way her lips parted on a gasp.
I’d wanted to fuck her ever since her first night here when she stuck her chin in the air, met my gaze head-on, and fearlessly stripped in the shower. It was the fact that I didn’t need to have sex with Miri to want to spend time with her that unbalanced me.
And holy fuck, did I want to have sex with her. Dirty, raw, wild, animalistic fucking and rutting. I imagined it a hundr
ed times over until my fantasy was perfected down to every individual frame of the motion picture playing in my head.
The first thing I would do would be to take hold of that innocent face, spin it toward the wall, and press Miri against the hard surface, holding her with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. I’d pin her sexy ass in place using the weight of my body, my hand gripping her hair to keep her cheek against the wall, pressing so hard she couldn’t move, not even an inch. Miri’s soft, seductive curves would fit against my solid bulk like two puzzle pieces as I thrust my hips forward, my rigid length nestling perfectly in the cleft of her tempting ass.
I’d watch her profile as those big green eyes widen and those goddamn thick, pink lips parted while she panted with desire. Miri would be so desperate to have me, she’d push that perky ass against my cock, all but begging me with her body to take her despite the rough way I manhandled her.
By then her pussy would be dripping wet and I wouldn’t be able to resist a taste of that sweetness. I’d slide a hand between those pale thighs and shove two fingers up inside her slick heat.
Jesus, Miri would be tight and burning hot. The sounds she would make as I pumped in and out of her would drive me close to losing control. Memories from the night I fingered her came flooding back. I remembered the way her muscles clenched, how her thighs squeezed mine as she came on my hand. I wouldn’t let her get off so easy this time. No, I’d torture the fuck out of that sexy little tease. Bring her to the edge and stop again and again, then force her to watch as I sucked every last bit of her sweet juices off my fingers.
Fuck, I wanted that. Getting my cock inside Miri was always somewhere in my conscious thoughts, every minute of every day. I hadn’t even reached the part of my fantasy where I drilled into that tight pussy and fucked her hard against the wall, and my dick was an iron bar in my pants. The daydreams I created about Miri both shocked and fascinated me.
Hell, everything about Miri shocked and fascinated me. My fucking Miri. My broken, sweet, sexy doll.
Which was why once again, I was catching shit from Milo, who really needed to learn to shut the fuck up. I was in the middle of my fantasy while sitting at my desk, when Milo suddenly showed up with disturbing news. It was important enough that I should have been listening to him, but my mind was still half-immersed in Miri’s pussy as my lieutenant spoke, and my restrained cock was beginning to hurt.
“Boss, you need to make a decision soon. El Cuchillo has something up his sleeve. I know it. All signs indicate he’s planning to make some sort of big move, and soon. The men we have monitoring his operation said activity around his properties has been way above normal, especially the last twenty-four hours.”
“I understand.” To distract myself from my persistent sexual fantasy, I yanked open my desk drawer and grabbed my coin. I threaded and flipped it over my knuckles while going over the different ways to approach the rival boss.
On one hand, the thought of another turf war made my blood run cold. The last time I struck out, there was a purpose for the violence. A reason to brutally destroy my predecessor and take over his territory. That reason was long gone, buried six feet under the ground. On the other hand, ignoring a building threat was a mistake I refused to make, but I wouldn’t take action without first making an attempt at a diplomatic solution.
“Set up a meeting with him. We’ll see what The Knife is up to… if he’s man enough to show up. Maybe whatever he’s doing is a bunch of bullshit that has nothing to do with us. Maybe he’s dealing in arms now. Hell, maybe he’s planning to take over Brick’s territory in Houston and it has nothing to do with us.”
“You sure, Boss? Meeting that lying bastard face-to-face can go bad fast. He’s a sneaky little shit, and if he succeeds in destroying Brick and expanding into Houston, he’ll be too powerful for us to stop,” Milo warned.
Milo wasn’t wrong to want to go in hard and fast with the element of surprise on our side. My rival wasn’t known for his negotiating skills or his ability to remain professional. Even us criminals have a code of honor. Not The Knife. If the stories about him are even half true, and I know for a fact some of them are, El Cuchillo might just be more ruthless than me, and seeing as I’d stab him in the groin and watch him screech just for looking at me funny, that makes him a very lethal dude.
“I’m sure you’re right, Milo, but I still want to try a meeting first. Let me know when it’s set up.” I dismissed Milo by placing my coin in my desk drawer. I stood and buttoned my suit jacket as I crossed to the locked exit while running my hand down the front to smooth the fabric into place. My cock, which was rock hard a few minutes ago, was now disinterested. All this talk of violence ruined my fun.
“But Boss—”
I stopped halfway to the office door and fought back the darkness that threatened to erupt at my lieutenant’s insubordination. “Milo, don’t fucking start with this shit again.”
His near-daily nagging, encouraging me to start a war and/or throw Miri out on her ass, had gotten old to the point of driving me to violence. On top of that, lately Milo had constantly challenged my orders, which made me more furious than I’d been since one of my guards attacked Miri in the garden. Now, Milo’s defiance, combined with the fact he interrupted my jerk-off fantasy right as it was getting good, had me feeling downright violent. I turned to glare at my lieutenant and met his dark eyes.
Disapproval radiated off Milo as he opened his big mouth to say something, then wisely snapped it shut. I knew him well enough to know he was struggling against the urge to lecture me about Miri again, and how becoming attached to her made me weak and unable to do what needed to be done and take out El Cuchillo and his men before he could do the same to us. Milo pressed his lips tight and I thought he made the right decision by shutting the fuck up. Hope left the fucking building when the asshole began speaking.
“I just think—”
Before Milo could finish his sentence or react, I had my KA-BAR out of its calf sheath and pressed to Milo’s throat as I slammed him bodily against the thick, soundproof door.
“Don’t. Fucking. Think.” An animalistic snarl erupted from my chest. Milo dared to open that goddamn mouth of his again despite my warnings. I pushed the tip of the weapon into his flesh. Just enough to draw a thin line of blood around the black carbon blade to prove to the idiot that I was dead serious. “I’ve told you not to fucking think. That means I don’t want to hear another goddamn word questioning my decisions. You are paid to do what I fucking tell you to do, got it?”
Sweat beaded along my hairline and threatened to drip down my temples. My heart hammered in my chest and my body pulled taut, craving the raw savagery of a good fight. I didn’t even give a shit if I ended up covered head to toe with blood at this point. No matter my somewhat noble reasons for becoming the boss of this operation, when it came down to it, I was a violent motherfucker. Milo was giving me the perfect excuse to unleash weeks of pent-up anger and a layer of extreme sexual frustration on top of it.
“I got it. I’m good, Boss.”
His expression didn’t look sorry, but Milo had his hands up by his head, palms out. He knew if he so much as flinched, I wouldn’t think twice about slicing his throat open and disposing of his corpse somewhere it would never be found.
For a long moment, I waited and simply stared at my lieutenant. “No more chances, Milo. This is your final warning.” With that, I stepped back and removed the knife from his throat but made sure to keep it clenched in my fist. Every muscle in my body was tight and my pulse roared behind my ears. I was more than ready to kill my lieutenant if it came down to it.
Milo put two thick fingers to his neck and pulled them back. He scowled at the sight of blood. “Fuck, Boss. I’m bleeding.”
“Out.” I pointed at the door with the huge knife, my ability to control my temper shredded to bits. When Milo got a good look at me, my chest heaving and my knuckles turning white around the weapon, he paled. Without another word, Milo turned and left
the study.
Once the door hissed shut and locked, I let out a long breath. “Fucking son of a bitch.” Still furious, I rinsed the knife in the sink and dried it before returning it to its sheath, then scrubbed my hands for a full five minutes.
Goddamn Milo!
My entire body vibrated with adrenaline, the chemicals surging through my veins. I ached to do something, craved some sort of outlet—violence, sex—I didn’t care what the outlet was as long as it was physical. I immediately went back to my fantasy of Miri and in half a second had a full, aching erection again. Sex with Miri would take care of my agitation and no one would have to get hurt.
Closing my eyes, I growled in frustration.
I couldn’t do that to Miri. Right now, sex with me would be fast, hard, and brutally detached, not something Miri could handle. Besides, even if she could handle me at my worst, I wouldn’t stoop to using her like that. I’d already disregarded her feelings once and the memory of the sadness on her face after getting her off, only to dismiss her like a common whore, almost had me cringing. Almost. I might have felt shitty about it, but I was still a bastard at heart.
Either way, I needed a goddamn outlet. Now. Every tendon in my body contracted, every muscle taut and ready to spring into action. Instead of hunting down Miri and ruining her with a cruel, heartless fuck, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to a girl I knew. Easy, no strings, and consensual, plus, this one was a kinky bitch. I could fuck her mouth, her pussy, her ass, and she’d ask for nothing in return. She was no more than a hot, willing hole. Exactly what I needed to let off steam. When the response came up on the screen, I sent a text to Frank telling him to get the car ready ASAP.
After a quick change of clothes, I climbed in the car. As Frank pulled the car away from the house, I spotted Miri in the front window, watching me leave. For a brief second, there was a sharp ache in my gut. Fucking another woman while Miri was living in my house, under my protection, and quite obviously wanting me in her bed, was a shitty thing to do, but I needed this. It was for her own good.