Page 15 of Volatile Waters

Momentarily removing my stare from her tortured eyes, I grinned at her fuming husband. “Is that so?” In my mind, Harold stole my pet when I was a little boy. Now, as a man, I was going to steal his wife, right in front of him.

With me guiding her body backward, she hiked her dress up completely. Smooth, long legs were mine to touch. Her confidence was enticing. As soon as her back hit the wall under her stairway, I let go to unbuckle my pants.

Harold was foaming at the mouth, screaming how he was going to kill me.

His wife lifted a leg as I approached her with a naked, raging hard-on.

I wrapped that hiked leg around my waist and slammed inside her. I could barely hear her moan over her husband’s roars and my men’s laughter. But I could feel her wetness in my trim pubic hair, something I usually had to force from a woman.

Not this time. Mrs. Thompson had not told a lie.

She was starving.

I was too.

So, after hoisting her up and wrapping her other leg around my waist, we primal-like fucked each other, fast and hard. One of my hands reached around her pert ass to hold her up, and my other reached between us to massage her clit, knowing exactly how to make her feel wanted. As her core pulsed around me, over and over, and she screamed out her ecstasy, I came inside her with the vocal vengeance she needed her husband to hear.

Once Mrs. Thompson was more than satisfied, orgasming in front of her husband twice, I gently let her legs down from my naked and drenched waist. She was breathless and unsteady on her feet, so I held her to me while asking, “Can I buy you breakfast?”

Sated and spent, she smiled. “Young man, you can do anything you like.”

I buckled my pants, then, like a gentleman, gestured for her to head for the door.

She sneered at her husband, who had angry spit hanging from his chin. “I’ll be back later, dear.” She walked out the door and into the waiting sun.

Smirking at Harold, I followed her. “I’ll be back after dessert.” I licked between my spread fingers so he understood what I would be eating.

Harold fought to be set free from his guards, who were truly guarding his life. Had he been set free and come at me, my men would’ve killed him where he stood. Then, all witnesses would have had to have been eliminated. That would have been unfortunate because I truly wanted another round of being inside Mrs. Thompson, not her blood.

Kirill and one of my men slid into the rear seat of the SUV. My other man took the driver’s seat, and Adrian, the front passenger. I sat in the middle row, next to the woman I had just pleasured. Her demeanor was much different now. That didn’t shock me.

Solemnly, she stared out the window, her fingers touching her lips. “Thank you for not rejecting me in front of my husband.”

I grinned. “Trust me. I enjoyed myself.”

The revenge fuck did not seem to be bringing her much solace. “You are the only person that I knew who could get away with what I needed to do.”

As the SUV began to move, I jokingly feigned hurt feelings. “I do believe I’ve been used.”

Deadpan, she said, “You continue to be honest with me, and I will continue to be honest with you. I know who you are and what you want to know.”

After a moment of thought, I conceded. “Honesty? Here it is.” I blew out a labored breath. “You are the first willing partner I’ve ever had.” I had never experienced it, so was clueless to what I had been missing in an eager partner.

Her wince was full of sympathy and disgust. “No.” She glanced at the other men in the vehicle for conformation. None disagreed. They knew where I grew up and how I was never alone except for the slaves in my home.

My shoulders felt heavy as I shrugged.

Mrs. Thompson lectured me, “This human trafficking is awful. You do know this, right?”

It may sound odd, but I felt we had a bond over her son’s death. I know I had just fucked her, but in my profession, sex was part of breathing. It was present at all times. So, the recent act didn’t stop me from opening up to her. “I’m not sure what I know at this point.”

Mrs. Thompson touched my face in an endearing fashion, something I had craved on such an unknown deep level. “It is why I couldn’t let your father sell a baby into the trade.”

The curse.

I exhaled disappointment. “So, she is alive.”

She took hold of my hand and squeezed. “She is. In fact, Whitney is ten now.”