But it was time.
I needed to know.
“Mig…why don’t you talk to your father?” I asked.
He grimaced, plopping down in a wicker chair that was staged ‘just so’ against the far wall.
“My father had different ways of making sure I became a ‘man’, as he liked to call it, and a lot of those ways always ended up with me bleeding,” he muttered. “And I resented him for leaving us. I still resent him. He’s the reason I stayed with Jennifer as long as I did.”
That made sense, sadly.
I hated that he’d had that kind of childhood.
“What do you mean by ‘bleeding’?” I asked.
He scrunched up his nose.
It was cute.
Which for Mig, was weird.
“He kicked my ass on a daily basis to make sure I was able to fight in case something ever happened to me, and he couldn’t be there to protect me,” he said in answer.
I blinked.
“He beat you so you would know how to fight?” I asked in confusion.
He shrugged. “More or less. Put me into martial arts. Jiu Jitsu. Krav Maga. I’m a master in almost everything there is to be a master in, trying to ensure that I had training in a few different techniques.”
“So you competed in tournaments?” I asked.
He shook his head, eyes never straying from the ceiling.
“No. Not exactly,” he answered cryptically.
“And you did all of that before your military career?” I continued, not giving him a chance to close up.
His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes went blank.
I growled in frustration and stood up, walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?” He asked casually.
I looked at him over my shoulder.
“Away from you and your evasive answers,” I snapped as I slammed the door shut and walked out into the dark hallway.
Then even further to the outdoor pool that we’d eaten dinner near earlier that evening.
The pool was one of those infinity pools that overlooked the ocean. I was laying on one of the lounge chairs looking out over the pool to the ocean. Because of how the pool was built parallel to the horizon, the pool looked like it was running right into the ocean.
I was tempted to get in, but I was only wearing a nightgown, having already taken off my bra and panties to get ready for bed… and for Mig.
Not that I’d give him the satisfaction of knowing that right now.
I looked over at the master bedroom, waving slightly when I saw Vitaly flick his fingers in my direction as he locked the French doors, and pulled down the shades.
I turned my gaze back to the pool, the ocean and the horizon, and contemplated my life.
It was in shambles.
I had to contact all of my clients and tell them that I was taking a ‘leave of absence’ for the foreseeable future. And while I did have a lot saved up (or the insurance money), I wasn’t sure my clients would come back after how abruptly I’d shut my salon down. I didn’t even get into it with them that it was unsafe, that surely would have been the final nail in the coffin of my little salon.
Which meant that since they didn’t know when I’d reopen, they’d have to go to someone else.
Sure, some would come back, but I’d definitely lose even more clients. And I’d already lost quite a few to this situation.
Mig stepped in to my line of sight, and I tilted my head back to pin him with a glare.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
He grinned.
“You.”
“Well, you can’t have me. I’m going to have to take a pass on your dick for awhile,” I told him honestly. “It muddles my thoughts, clouds my brain, and then I starting thinking things are better than they really are.”
“Wow,” he said, walking around the chair. “I had no idea my dick was that powerful, baby. I mean, yeah he’s a big guy and works all kinds of magic, but you make it sound like he’s the leader of a cult or something.”
I flipped him off, and he laughed as he sat down in between my legs.
His big body forced my legs open wider, and I only let that happen because he would have just sat on them if I didn’t.
And I didn’t think my legs could handle his bony butt.
He made himself comfortable, turning to face the ocean, as he leaned back against my chest.
When I went to move, he grabbed my flailing arms and wrapped them around his neck.
I wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but I also wasn’t comfortable, either, with all of Mig’s considerable bulk pressed against me.
“On the back of my neck,” he said.
Then he took my hand and moved it until my fingers brushed over a small, puckered scar.
“What’s that from?” I asked, no longer wanting to move now that I realized he wanted to talk.
I massaged the spot as he started to talk.
“When I was ten, my dad started my training. That first year he also started entering me into cage fighting matches to test my skills and identify my weaknesses,” he said. “I was paired up with kids between five and ten years older than me whose parents also wanted them to learn these same sets of skills.”
I blinked.
“Same sets of skills?” I asked carefully.
He nodded.
“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe the kind of attention rich kids get. Blackmail, extortion. Not to mention that they’re more likely to be targeted for a kidnap and ransom,” he said. “Some parents believed, like my dad did, that if they trained their kids to protect themselves, they’d at least be able to fight back if necessary if there ever came a time that they were taken.”
“That’s…that’s insane,” I finally decided on.
Mig snorted.
“That was my reality. And every summer and Christmas break, until I was eighteen, was spent training with my father,” he sighed. “It was the summer of my fourteenth year that my father decided that maybe I wasn’t as good as he had hoped I would be, and he decided to plant a tracking device in my neck during one of the times that I’d been knocked unconscious.”
I froze with my thumb covering the scar.
“Is it…is it…” I couldn’t finish.
What kind of parent would do that?
Then my gut reaction was just that…to protect.
Vitaly was scared his son would be taken.
So he’d done the unthinkable.
And tagged his son like he was a dog.
“Yeah,” he said.
I blinked.
“It is?” I gasped.
He nodded. “Yeah. I found out about it when I went into the Air Force. He came to my boot camp graduation, told me about it when he took me out to dinner…then asked me to leave it in for his peace of mind.”
I was silent.
“I went down when I was flying during a training exercise. Fished out of the ocean by a Russian ship, no less,” he said. “And held for ransom.”
I stayed silent still, waiting for him to continue as my heart started to race.
“They knew my general location, but the Russians were what you would call modern day pirates,” he said. “They requested money in exchange for me. And you know the US Government doesn’t deal with terrorists.”
No, I didn’t know that.
“My dad found out, even though to this day I don’t know how. The Air Force wouldn’t have told him anything. They don’t usually tell the family unless there’s a body, or that I’m alive and recuperating in a hospital.”
I didn’t know that either.
“I was too banged up to save myself. I had two broken arms, a broken collarbone, and two sprained ankles from the fall into the ocean. I’d deployed my parachute too late; let’s just say it’s not fun to hit the ocean at the speed I’d been going.”
“So your dad saved you?” I guessed.
He
nodded.
“And he was disappointed in me,” he confirmed.
I blinked.
“For what?” I practically barked.
“For not being able to save myself, I’d guess,” he surmised.
I didn’t think that was it.
Not at all.
But I would save that conversation for later.
Right now, Mig needed me.
He’d shared some deep stuff with me, stuff I was sure he didn’t ever want to share.
“So after I recovered, I got back in, and did some fixing in my life. Got better. Took more chances. Did some things that I never want to do again,” he said. “But those things took me to Uncertain, and I’m lucky. I could’ve been dead with all the things I tried to do,” he sighed. “Took stupid risks. Didn’t care about the outcome. Until I saw you.”
“Me?” I asked.
He nodded. “A year or so after I moved to Uncertain, you were in the parking lot of the diner, talking to a man about buying his car.”
I remembered that.
And I remembered exactly the moment he’d come outside.
I hadn’t realized he could hear me, though.
“He tried to stiff me,” I laughed.
Mig rolled over, doing something at the back of my chair with his hands, and suddenly I was flat on my back.
“Do you know how hot it was to hear you talk to a man about a car, and it was clear you knew exactly what you were talking about?” He asked.
I smiled at the memory.
The guy had thought that, because I was a teenaged girl, I knew nothing about cars.
But I did.
And I’d turned that man down so fast his head had spun.
“I was also the reason you got your Mustang,” he said.
I blinked.
I had a nice Cherry Red Mustang.
It ran like a dream, and I’d gotten it for a song. I didn’t drive it unless it was the weekend and I had time to get it out of storage.
When I was younger, it’d been a dream to get that car. As I got older, I realized what kind of prize I had in the Mustang, so I bought a daily driver and saved the Mustang for special occasions. A car like that was meant for special.
“Really? How?” I asked.
Then things started to click.
“Was that car yours?” I asked carefully.
He nodded, looking down into my eyes.
“Kind of. I bought it with you in mind. Fixed it up. Then sold it to you by way of Alison’s friend,” he said.
My mouth gaped.
“You’re kidding.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
And suddenly, I just couldn’t help it.
I laughed.
I laughed until I cried.
“You’re horrible,” I told him.
He grinned, leaned forward even more, and let me feel his erection.
It was then that I realized he only had his underwear on…and I didn’t have any.
Chapter 22
Please don’t be an asshole to Mig. He’s had years of experience being an asshole. On the asshole scale, he’s an expert, and you’re a beginner. There’s a big difference between the two.
-Annie’s secret thoughts
Annie
I licked my lips, casting a nervous cursory glance around to make sure we were alone.
We were.
The only thing that I could see clearly was the two feet surrounding us.
The soft glow of the moon barely offered enough light to see Mig’s face.
But we were outside, and I could tell by the way he was running his lips along the length of my neck that we wouldn’t be moving inside.
The nightgown I was wearing was slowly inched up my legs, until it was caught under my ass.
“Lift that pretty, little ass of yours,” he whispered gruffly.
I complied, lifting my hips, and subsequently pushing my pussy up against him.
The length of his erection was barely contained by his underwear, and he was hot, hard and oh so ready.
Although, it didn’t take much to get him that way lately.
All it took was a stray look on my part, and he was on me.
But I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
My hands ran up his smooth back, coming to a rest on the base of his neck where I worked my hands into what little hair he had.
Dragging my nails against his scalp, I gasped when he bit by shoulder.
My hips jerked, and I could feel the cool cushion of the lounge chair underneath me.
It was rough on my skin, but I barely noticed as Mig finally worked the nightgown up and over my head.
As soon as it cleared my chest, his lips latched on to one peaked nipple and pulled.
My hands went up above my head, latching onto the metal of the chair as my body arched to meet him.
He planted one elbow in the cushion next to my head, while the other ran up the length of my body, eliciting goose bumps in its wake.
He was working one breast, and I reached up to palm the other. Mig, seeing this, sucked harder, as a shiver chased up my spine.
“Ticklish?” He asked, doing it again.
This time I wasn’t able to withhold the giggle that came with the move, causing him to smile.
“I love you,” he said.
My body froze.
“W-what?” I gasped, giving him my full attention.
His mouth went down to run along my collarbone before it descended to my other nipple.
But before he took the peak in his mouth, he growled.
“You heard me.”
I did hear him.
I just wanted him to repeat it.
Over and over again until the words finally sank in.
He didn’t give that to me, though.
Instead, his actions spoke for him—loudly—as he worshipped my body.
The way his hands moved over my body slowly, sensually, communicated his love, devotion and commitment to me.
“One day,” he said. “You’re going to marry me.”
Once again, my body froze, and what little air I was able to get into my lungs froze.
“W-what?”
I sounded like a broken record.
But he was giving me everything I had hoped and dreamed about with him.
Not to mention the way his hands were coasting along on my body, it was no surprise that I couldn’t focus in the first place.
He shifted to free his erection from the confines of his boxer briefs.
The sight of his massive frame illuminated by the moonlight, on his knees between my splayed legs, was breathtaking.
Mig was undoubtedly a handsome man, but like this, he was powerfully so.
The moonlight shadowed his face, making the expression of concentration on it look even fiercer.
His abs were rippled and looked even more pronounced than usual.
His erection stood out in front of him: straight, long, thick, and angry.
It was his eyes, though, that I couldn’t look away from.
“You got any words for me?” He asked, fisting his cock and working his hand down the length.
I licked my lips, barely containing the urge to bury my fingers inside myself to bring the orgasm that I felt waiting in the wings.
“What words?” I teased.
He started to work his length faster.
His balls swung with the movement, and I started panting.
He’d stay there all night, keeping his hands to himself, if I didn’t say the words he knew I felt.
My hands went to my breasts, and I pressed them together to try to ease the ache that I was feeling.
“The love I have for you, Mig, I can’t put into words. ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem to be enough, which was why I haven’t said it yet,” I told him, pouring my heart out. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved
anyone in my life. And to your other comment, the one about me marrying you, that isn’t even a question you need to ask me. I was yours from the moment I saw you ride into town on your black Harley.”
He smiled.
Then took a hold of my hips, and roughly turned me over until my stomach was down.
My hips were pulled back, and suddenly I was filled with two fingers.
Two large, rough fingers.
“Always so wet for me. Only me,” he growled, pushing his fingers in and out.
But then they were gone just as quickly as they came…but not for long.
Soon I was filled with three.
He pumped them in and out, curling them down to seek out that spot inside of me that always made me shoot off like a bottle rocket.
And just like every other time, I didn’t disappoint him.
I came.
Hard.
Clamping down on his fingers like my body never wanted them to leave.
But they did leave.
And when my hips started to sag, he grabbed me with his large hands, and impaled me on his cock.
I stifled a scream in my arm, but only just barely.
He slowly worked his cock into me in short, soft jabs, pulling back and thrusting forward until he was fully imbedded inside of me.
Once he had me completely filled, he started rocking me, not pulling out at all.
It felt amazing, like the two of us were one.
I dropped down until my shoulders met the lounge, and the new angle pushed him impossibly further inside of me.
He growled, and his thrusts became more pronounced.
I gasped when he began to bottom out inside of me.
Normally he was careful with how much he gave me, but when he continued thrusting deeply, I realized that he was out of control.
And that I quite liked the little bit of pain.
His thrusts started to become somewhat frantic, and the loss of his control ignited the loss of mine.
Soon we were both chasing something that neither one of us recognized until much later.
Skin slapped against skin.
Hands grasped for purchase.
Mig pulled my hair.
I dug my nails into his thighs until I drew blood.
And when my orgasm finally slammed into me, I couldn’t hold the scream in.
Mig poured himself into me, growling like an animal.
And when the lights turned on in front of us, my brain snapped back into reality.
Jack & Coke (The Uncertain Saints Book 2) Page 17
