Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(162)

Tightening my grip on his hand, I ask, “And you’ll be there with me?”

“Most definitely. I’ll cover my ears if you scream. I’ll wipe your tears if you cry. I’ll hide the body if you strangle her. I’m not going anywhere.”

Smiling, I slide against him and sigh when his arms wrap around me.

“I’m sorry I hit you so much.”

“That punch was one reason I fell for you.”

“No, I’m not sorry about that punch. You were f*cking asking for that. I meant more about when we started this job. I kept smacking you even when you were just regular annoying. I’m sorry.”

“You thought that shit would keep me from wooing your pretty ass. Poor, delusional Minka.”

“I know, right?” I say, grinning. “Normal men would be freaked out from all the hitting, but I knew you weren’t normal. I didn’t think out my plan.”

“In the end, it worked out.”

I stare into his dark eyes and smile. “I’m still sorry.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting my head.

“You’re making me less sorry.”

Dino chuckles. “I’m like a puppet master, and you’re my doll.”

Pretending to be offended, I turn away. Dino rolls against me, and I feel his growing erection poking at my butt. Glancing back at him, I share his smile. Dead deputies and crappy moms will wait for tomorrow. Tonight, I only care about this sexy man.





25


Dino

Playing Dress Up

Never as a mob hitman did I need to disguise myself. The concept feels silly, but Minka reacts excitedly to the idea of dressing up as elderly tourists. She pulls out a suitcase full of makeup and wigs. I watch her bouncing around and enjoy the view. My day is going well until she hands me a gray wig.

“Will it itch?” I ask.

Minka grins but says nothing. She’s giddy about us dressing up. When she pulls out her makeup kit, I dodge her.

“No, I’m good.”

“There is no way you’ll pull off playing an old dude without makeup.”

“Ugh, why did you have to call it makeup? Now I’m putting my foot down.”

“The big strong man can’t handle a little foundation?” she asks, pushing me on the bed and stepping between my legs. “Now, I’ve got you pinned. So, are you gonna keep whining or can we do this thing?”

Frowning, I hold still while she leans back my head and dabs on makeup. My scowl fades when I realize I’m eye-level with her tits. The day is looking better already.

Minka moans when my teeth tease her nipple through the thin tee she’s wearing.

“I’m working.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmur as my hands grip her ass and roll the flesh in my hands.

Minka ignores my fondling for a few minutes, but my teeth refuse to relent on her hard nipples.

“Fuck,” she groans, tossing aside the makeup and pushing me back.

“That’s all I wanted.”

Minka is in a frenzy until my cock fills her completely. Sighing, she smiles at me before riding my hips wildly.

“You’re putting on the rest of disguise.”

“Sure, Apples,” I say, reaching into her shirt and pinching her nipples.

A wild, fun ride later, Minka returns to making me look like my grandpa.

“I’d f*ck you,” she says, admiring her handiwork. “You’re a handsome old bastard.”

Minka turns away before I can get her back on the bed. She hurries into the bathroom and works on her makeup. I try on the clothes in the case. They fit fine length-wise but are too baggy.

“Who used this disguise before?”

“Troy. Don’t worry. It’s all been cleaned. You won’t get his cooties.”

“I’m more thinking size-wise,” I say, joining her in the bathroom. “Hello, sexy Ethel.”

Minka looks good wrinkled up. I imagine popping quite a few Viagra when we’re old enough that our bodies won’t cooperate with the dirty thoughts in our heads.

Minka bats her eyes. “Looking good, Ernest.”

Pulling at the excess shirt, I mutter, “Your ex was a fat f*cker.”

“It’s so cute when you’re insecure,” she says, sliding on her wig. “He’s beefier than you. A lion versus a jaguar.”

“I like that,” I murmur, feeling her up through her granny shirt.

“Knock it off. You’ll make me sweat, and the makeup will run.”

“Why do we need this again?” I whine.

“How old are you?”

“When my dick gets hard, I’m about twelve,” I say, tugging at my pants. “Don’t blame me. Blame nature.”

Minka laughs. “People will notice two hot people like us in Common Bend. Old people are ignored.”

“Not when they’re this hot,” I say, cupping her left tit.

“Don’t make me start smacking you again.”

Minka dodges my greedy hands until we’re parked in Common Bend. Half a block down, two of Black’s deputies enjoy a three-hour lunch. Next to me, in the late model sedan we borrowed from Hayes, Minka sports a green visor and a fanny pack. Despite the shitty rock music CD she’s playing, my raging boner tries to talk Minka into crawling into the backseat and getting frisky like the old timers in Cocoon.