Lips On My Heart

by M J Marino

  “Let’s make it a real one,” I say. If I had it my way, we would already be married.

  Josephine doesn’t look up at me as she shakes her head. “Two weeks is not enough time to plan all the things I want. Sorry, but the answer is no.”

  Annoyed, I grumble to myself and sit next to her on my bunk, surrounded by all things wedding. It’s late and my fingers have a life of their own, grazing up and down her naked thighs. Josephine is wearing her typical braless tank top and tiny panties for bed, practically making me swoon. Who would have thought these simple clothes would look like the sexiest lingerie to me?

  I may start buying her tank tops from Victoria’s Secret along with the underwear I can’t seem to stop ordering. Is there such a thing as having a lingerie shopping compulsion? Nah, it’s just seeing my woman in skimpy undergarments that’s my real compulsion. Not being able to have sex with her in the house is definitely starting to drive me up the wall.

  At least my brothers have learned not to make direct eye contact with Josephine when they step in the bedroom. They’ve all gotten a peek at her in her bikini panties or thongs, and they’ve all gotten death glares or verbal threats from me about keeping their eyes to themselves. The only thing making it worth them gawking at her, is knowing she’s mine and they’re all jealous she belongs to me. Or maybe it’s because they’re jealous of what we have together.

  “I found the dress,” Josephine says, not looking up from her phone.

  My fingers continue to draw patterns into her sun-kissed legs. “Good. One thing off the sham wedding list done.”

  Her sparkling blue eyes finally look into mine. “No, not that dress. I’m talking the dress.”

  Oh, man. My heart pounds in my chest imagining her in a white dress walking down an aisle toward me.

  What does it look like? Is it simple or glammed up? Is it white or ivory or some other color altogether? Is it puffy like a princess-dress or something more formfitting? I’ve got to know.

  “What does it look like? Tell me now,” I command eagerly.

  “Like hell I will. It’s bad luck,” she rebukes.

  I shake my head. “No, no, you got it wrong. It’s if I see you in it before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” I plead my defense. “So tell me. Better yet, do you have a picture of you not wearing it?”

  Josephine sighs. “You’ll have to wait. It’s being rushed over from a different vendor who has it in the right size. It should be in next week.”

  Dammit.

  “What about the fake dress?” I ask, still envisioning the real one.

  “I found it today, too. The seamstress was in today when Opal and I picked it out, and she was able to take all the fitting measurements. I go next week for the final fitting, and if all is good, it comes home with me.”

  “Good.”

  “Before I go to my next fitting, you should talk to Lorenzo’s men,” she says, looking back at her phone.

  I’m suddenly alarmed. “Why?”

  Josephine rolls her eyes in frustration. “They’re getting a little—what’s the word?—restless, I guess. They pretty much harass all the construction workers on-site who come near me, which is bad enough. The crew knows what’s going on and tolerates it. But today when Opal and I came out of the wedding boutique, one of Lorenzo’s personal bodyguards, Tiny Tony, was hauling this man out of his van. He pulled his gun on him and interrogated him about his California license plate and why he was carrying a camera. The poor guy was practically crying when he explained he was on vacation.”

  Groaning, I rub my hand down my face. Fucking Lorenzo and his hounds. They did the same shit to a delivery driver who came to the property this week too. “I’ll have Gauge reach out to Lorenzo.”

  “Thank you, future hubby,” she purrs, which goes straight to my loins.

  Looking for a distraction, I pick up one of several wedding bags scattered about and peer inside.

  Josephine snatches it away. “Nope! No peeking.”

  “Is it for the real wedding or the fake wedding?” I ask, greedy to get a better look at what I saw in the shopping bag.

  Josephine pauses. “The fake wedding,” she admits, finally.

  “Then it doesn’t matter.” With a winning smirk, I yank the bag back and pull out what I had only caught a quick glance of. I hold the silk garter between my fingers.

  At first, I’m super turned on to see this lacy white piece of material, but I frown. “I know we agreed to do some things for appearance’s sake, but I sure as hell won’t let Jacob get close enough to see what you have under your dress.”

  Josephine shrugs. “If I don’t wear it for this fake wedding, you may want to keep it for practice.”

  My brows pull together. “Practice?”

  “Mm-hm. You know, practice. Pulling it off my thigh with your teeth for the garter toss,” Josephine says, pinning away on Pinterest.

  Come again?! Using my teeth anywhere near her thigh sounds right up my alley, and acts like an electrical current straight to my junk.

  Grinning, I sink to my knees in front of the bunk, grabbing hold of her leg and sliding the garter up her thigh.

  Josephine looks shocked. “What are you doing?”

  “Practicing,” I answer with a roguish grin, my head working between her thighs closer to her hot center. I nip at her mound through the thin fabric of her panties, making her to buck her hips in my face.

  The bedroom door swings open and Punk saunters in. He takes stock of my face full between her thighs.

  “Oh, fuck!” Punk shouts, spinning around and slamming the door shut, before pleading on the other side. “I swear to God, I didn’t see anything, Atlas. Don’t fucking rip my dick off, please!”

  I bark out a laugh from between Josephine’s legs. Josephine reprimands me with a shoulder slap.

  “It’s okay, Punk. There’s nothing going on. Come on back in,” Josephine apologizes. My pixie tries to push me away, but instead I straighten up on my knees and remain situated between her slender thighs. It’s where I’m fucking meant to be, and I have no intentions on budging.

  The door cracks open slowly and Punk creeps into the room. He looks us both over to make sure we’re indeed dressed. Well, I’m dressed. Josephine is in her underwear. He clears his throat. “Chase asked me to find you,” he addresses me wearily.

  “What about?” I pull Josephine by the hips till she’s flush against me. I snap her garter on her thigh like a rubber band for added effect.

  She slaps me on the chest this time. “Stop trying to make Punk uncomfortable. It’s bad enough all your brothers believe you’re going to murder them if they look at me the wrong way.”

  I chuckle. “Okay, I’ll behave.”

  “What’s that?” Punk points at Josephine’s leg.

  “It’s my practice garter,” I say pompously.

  Punk cocks his head. “A practice garter?”

  “Yeah, you know, when I get to go under her dress in front of everyone at the wedding to take it off with my teeth,” I say, smirking, and lick my lips.

  Punk’s eyes go wide, drinking in my words. “That’s fucking hot. I want one of those! Where do I get one?”

  Josephine snorts. “You kind of need a fiancée to practice on.”

  “Hard pass,” Punk says before shouting over his shoulder to the living room. “Ebony, do you have a garter?”

  I try to reel him back in. “What does Chase want?”

  Punk looks back at us. “He says we’ve got activity on Jacob’s end.”

  “Sonofabitch,” I mutter, pulling myself away from my sweet woman’s body.

  Striding past Punk, I hear him addressing Josephine. “Fucking hell, woman! You need to cover your curvy ass up if you’re going to follow Atlas outside.”

  “You walk around in your damn boxers,” she spits back, insubordinate as always.

  “Yeah, well my ass cheeks are covered. No one wants to see me in a thong, but they sure as hell will want to see you in yours. Atlas is going
to kill everyone out there if I let you past this door,” Punk insists.

  “Cover up, Pixie!” I growl out, making my way through the house and outside. Ultimately, it’s her choice, but Punk is right, and I’d probably go into a rampage if she leaves the bedroom in only her underwear. I know she’s eager to come out to the garage to see what Chase has, but she should hide what’s mine from everyone else. It’s bad enough Punk got another fine look at her backside. I don’t need any of my other brothers drooling over her.

  I enter the garage to find Chase working. “What do you have?”

  He drops what he’s doing on one computer and spins to another, waving me over. “We definitely caused a stir. He’s getting sloppy. He’s still taking out large amounts of cash, but I went over his most recent credit card transactions, and it seems he made a recent trip to a hardware store. Tape, rope, gloves, even a Bowie knife. He’s planning something and the fact he’s using his credit card means he doesn’t care if he gets caught.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter. This is the shit I was worried about, that we would push him over the edge, and he would become extremely dangerous. “He’s planning on making a grab.”

  Chase nods. “It appears that way.”

  “Too bad for him he won’t get me,” Josephine says with defiance, making her way through the garage with Punk in tow. Thankfully she listened and put some shorts on.

  I spin to face her head on. “You’re on lock-down starting now,” I order.

  Her eyes nearly pop out before narrowing to slits. “I’m not going into hiding, Maceo.”

  Oh, how I’m going to love finally using her own words against her.

  “I do believe it was you who suggested I stow you away in a ‘bunker’ as long as you were used to draw him out. Well, guess what buttercup, you played your move and now it’s my turn. This is what I do, it’s my fucking job, and I’m the fucking best at it. You will do what I say from here on out. Am I clear?” I say with all the fucking authority in the world.

  Josephine glowers. “Crystal,” she bites back, but says nothing else, folding her slender arms over her perky chest. I stare her down, waiting for her to challenge me like she always does, but thankfully she doesn’t test me on this. I don’t want to have to be an asshole to my pixie, but if push comes to shove, I most certainly will. I nod when I feel confident she’s bowing out of the fight.

  “Keep tabs on Jacob. Get Ziggy and Butch to help you. I want to be informed of anything and everything,” I tell Chase before addressing Punk. “I want you out scouting the whole damn city. Take four men to help you. I’ll tell Gauge when he gets back to talk to Lorenzo’s men about being on alert for Jacob’s appearance. Esteban is not the current threat we need to worry about.”

  “Where’s Gauge?” Punk asks, finally realizing he wasn’t in the garage with us.

  Chase smirks. “He’s busy.”

  Punk lets out a low whistle. “Shit’s getting serious between those two.”

  “It’s always been serious. The dumb ass is finally waking up. If he wants to keep Opal for himself, he needs to fucking man up and commit,” I say honestly.

  “Fuck. First you, prez. Now Gauge. It’s like a fucking disease is spreading around here,” Punk jokes. “I feel like I need a damn immunization shot or something.”

  “One, two, three, not it!” Chase chants while touching his nose.

  “Oh, hell no! I’m not the next sucker to get tied down to some pussy,” Punk fights back before realizing what he said out loud in my presence. “No offense, prez.”

  Josephine cocks her head and attitude at Punk.

  He lowers his head in shame. “Sorry…sis.”

  Josephine clutches her chest. “Aww, Punk!”

  Punk’s smile practically splits his face in half. “Really? You’re okay with that name? Not going to bite my head off like all the other times I used the wrong name?”

  Josephine sniffs and her eyes grow misty. “No, I really like it…little bro.”

  Punk guffaws. “I am not little bro. Big bro or bro, but not little bro.”

  “You are so little bro,” she giggles.

  “Yeah, anyone tell you it’s uncool to pick your own name, little bro?” Chase jabs. “That’s almost as bad as Stage and his obsession with John Wayne and going around referring to himself as the Duke.”

  Now that was fucking hilarious. Stage will never live that one down, mostly because our crew won’t let him forget it. I push aside my amusement. “Brothers, let’s focus.”

  “I’m taking Triple, Stage, Eagle, and Flay for my team,” Punk says, all joking gone.

  “I’ll put Reaper and Brass on patrol duty between all the properties. I need to notify Luke at the station that Jacob will be making a move soon. I’ll have Gauge ask Lorenzo to station his men at the MC build site as well as Josephine’s condo,” I say evenly. “In the meantime, I will stay with Josephine.”

  “We should inform the construction crew and Jared that something is about to go down. They need to be on alert,” Chase suggests.

  “I can do it,” Josephine volunteers.

  I look at her and consider it. “I’ll allow you to call Jared since you are close with him, but let’s have him fill in the crew as a whole, that way all of them know at once and have the same information.”

  She nods her delicate head and I can’t help but reach out and grab her, holding her to me and resting my chin on the top of her head. Time is running out for Jacob, and soon the threat of him will be a bad memory. But until then, I won’t be letting her out of my sight.

  Preparing for battle is always a sobering moment. You’ve been trained for this line of work. You’ve conditioned your body for all the emotional, mental, and physical shit about to come your way. You have all the tactical gear which will keep you protected when push comes to shove. And you have the knowledge and capability to wield the weapons given to you.

  For all intents and purposes, you should be ready, but that’s not necessarily the case, because there’s always the fear.

  The fear of the unknown is one big bitch. It fucks with your head. It fucks with your sleep. It fucks with your appetite. And it fucks with your concentration. Fear can only be bottled up so much before it overflows onto everything else.

  I deal with this fear by working out. I run. I go to the gym and lift weights. I punch the bag around for hours. And it helps, but it doesn’t conquer all my worries.

  The only thing that does the trick is being with Josephine. When I hold her in my arms at night close to my chest with our hellhound sleeping on top of our legs, my fear subsides. But I need more. I need to bury myself deep inside of her to fucking silence the fear that grows each passing day as we approach our fake wedding. Unfortunately, it will have to wait.

  We’re three days from operation-take-down-Jacob and the pressure is getting to everyone. Chase has been practically living in the garage—the asshole hasn’t slept more than an hour or two at a time and even then, it’s only because he accidently fell asleep at the computer. Punk and his team come home to shower and sleep, but not much else. Gauge has been going back and forth with Lorenzo and he’s ready to throw in the towel on the fucker. I’m trying to keep all these pieces together and none of them want to stay stuck.

  But Josephine, she’s been acting, different. I thought she would go stir-crazy during lockdown, but she has been unnaturally calm. She has been handling all of her work from the rental, using FaceTime to communicate with her crew and see what’s going on. Work is flying along and they’re doing their best to help with the project.

  With more free time on her hands, my pixie has been joining me at the gym. The women who always ogle me are furious to see my fiancée in tow, but I’m relieved to have her in my presence. One, I don’t need to worry about where she is. Two, I get to work out with the love of my life. Three, I get to watch her walk around the gym in her hot shorts and sports bras. And four, all the fucking predatory women are backing the fuck off, finally. No means no, but it
doesn’t stop half these women from reaching out and grabbing my arms, pecs, or ass. That shit ended as soon as Josephine walked through the door.

  We leave the gym and head downtown to grab some lunch. I’m starving and I’m sure Josephine is too, seeing as we skipped breakfast at the diner to go for a long run on the trail. Not our fault we ended up against the same boulder that bonded us nine weeks ago—a little nostalgic sex was definitely what we both needed to relieve the stress Jacob has added to our lives.

  “I want tacos,” Josephine pipes up as we walk along.

  “Sounds good to me.” I take our linked hands and raise her hand to my lips for a peck.

  “Okay, but we need to hurry and get back to the house. I need to shower before my fitting,” she reminds me.

  “No problem. We’ll get home, clean up, and I’ll take you.”

  “Um, no, you will not take me. You can’t see me in my dress.”

  “Fake wedding, fake wedding dress. The rules don’t apply,” I say with finality. There’s no way in hell I’m going to separate myself from her.

  She stops walking and drops my hand. “I’d be fine with the arrangement if it was only the fake dress, but this includes the real dress, too.”

  I groan and rub both my hands up my face and into my hair. The rule is she must have someone with her at all times. All my men are on assignment. “You know this means I have to ask Lorenzo for a guard for you then, right?”

  Josephine mimics my actions by running her own hands over her face. “Gah! Why? Can’t I go in by myself, and have you stand outside keeping watch?”

  I give her the deadpan look I usually give when I mean business. “You know it isn’t an option, right? You need someone there at all times.”

  Josephine’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “I fucking hate Jacob. This is all his fault,” she whines.

  “Damn right it is,” I agree. “How about we grab Tiny Tony and I go with. I’ll be outside waiting, while he goes in with you.”

  Josephine’s face puckers. “Can we use someone other than Tiny Tony?”