Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(15)

I grasp her cheeks, framing her face with my hands, and stare her straight in the eyes, dead serious, as I say, “If you’re going to start crying, I need you to not do it while you’re sitting on my lap.”

She lets out a light laugh, grabbing my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face, forcing my arms around her.

“I’m not going to cry,” she says, fumbling between us, undoing my pants. “I’m going to show you my appreciation instead.”

“You don’t have to give pussy to show gratitude,” I tell her. “A simple ‘thanks’ will suffice.”

“I know,” she whispers. “Thank you. But I want to give you pussy to show you I’m grateful, because the way I feel when you’re inside of me? There’s nothing else like it. You make me feel alive.”

Those words twist me up, and I want to say something about it... about how I need her to not put so much stock in me and get so damn sentimental... but my cock beats my voice in terms of springing free, and the second she starts stroking me all I can think is ‘fuck… fuck… fuck it’.

Like I’m gonna turn down pussy...

She shifts lace aside to sink down onto me, riding me, no hesitation. Fuck, it feels like Heaven. Warm, and wet, and so damn tight wrapped around my cock. I always thought it would get tedious, fucking the same woman over and over, but nothing about Scarlet is ever boring.

Thirty seconds. That’s all the time I get before somebody shoves the library door open without knocking. Son of a bitch. I’d pull out my gun on principle, as usual, but Scarlet’s kind of sitting on it, so I’d have to throw her off first.

That’s out of the question.

I look over, seeing my brother in the doorway, just in time for shock to flash across his face as he throws his hands up. “Seriously? How do you like being interrupted? Huh?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” I tell him, but he knows that. My gaze turns to Scarlet, who is still looking at me. “Does it bother you?”

She scoffs, not stopping what she’s doing. “I can’t count how many times I’ve been watched.”

The door slams closed again about ten seconds later as my brother shouts, “You’re both crazy!”

“Guess he didn’t want to watch, after all,” Scarlet says.

I let her stay in control, letting her do what she wants to do. Reaching between us, I rub her clit, getting her off before I finally let loose. Closing my eyes, grunting, I come inside of her. Fuck, it feels good, nothing at all between us.

She stops moving after a moment, her forehead resting against mine as she breathes deeply.

“You’re welcome,” I say after a bit of silence.

She laughs, climbing off of my lap.

I tuck myself back away, fastening my pants before shoving up out of the chair.

“So, are you hungry?” I ask as she stares at the bear. “I’m going to make pancakes.”

“Uh... sure.”

I walk out, letting her pull herself together, and head to the kitchen to find Seven sitting at the table, reading today’s newspaper.

Look, I’m going to be honest with you—I forgot the guy was here. He’s good at being unassuming. “Your wife cook for you this morning, Seven?”

He glances up at me. “Of course.”

Of course.

I get the shit together to cook, and yes, before you ask, I indeed wash my hands. No pussy juices in the pancakes. I’m whipping together the batter, tossing some damn chocolate chips in for the hell of it, when Seven speaks again.

“He would’ve kept something, you know,” he says quietly, still flipping through the paper.

“Who?”

“Jones,” he says. “He’ll have something on Aristov, something incriminating, just in case.”

I almost ask how he knows that, but it’s a stupid question, and I try to never ask those myself.

Been there, done that.

“A file, maybe pictures, maybe a recording... something. And he’ll keep it somewhere where Aristov can’t get to it. At work, probably... hiding in plain sight. That way if anything ever happened to him, the police would find it. Something that could take down Aristov, so Jones would get the last laugh. Might be beneficial to get our hands on whatever it is.”

Movement in the doorway catches my eye. I glance over, seeing Scarlet lurking, listening to our conversation. Nosey little witch. Seven looks her way, averting his eyes quickly when he sees her standing there in just a t-shirt and underwear.

She’s not even naked and his allergy is acting up.

“I saw the file Gabe has on Kassian,” she says. “It was on his desk with all the others. I looked through it, but there was nothing worthwhile.”

“He’ll keep the real goods somewhere else,” Seven says. “A desk drawer, a locked box... he had some pictures stashed in his locker on a flash drive last time.”

Scarlet’s brow furrows. “Last time?”

“Ah, Seven here and Detective Fuckface are old friends,” I explain. “We paid him a visit this morning, discovered he’s been taking it up the ass from your Russian.”

“Wait, what? He’s working for Kassian?”

“Seems so,” I say. “He gave me some bullshit spiel about no proof of a crime, blah blah blah, be grateful you’re alive, yadda yadda yadda, but hey, it’s all good because the kid, she’s fine, so whatever whatever. I wanted to shoot him in the fucking face, but then I’d have to blame it on Seven, so I kept my cool for his sake.”