Sixx looked back to her friend, cleared her throat, and stated, “We’re nowhere near there yet.”
“Well, when you are, don’t look to me to throw your baby shower. I’ll show, if there’s alcohol and I’m not pregnant, though I’ll also show if I’m pregnant, but only due to hormones making me a sissy wuss. But I won’t throw it.”
Sixx shot her a grin. “I’ll file that in my memory banks.”
Sylvie’s eyes sparkled, even if they still looked speculative, and then she returned to serious.
“Back to the situation at hand, Creed would lose his mind if I brought the news to him that I was going in undercover as a submissive at a BDSM sex club even if I wasn’t pregnant. Seeing as I am, even not showing yet, if I shot that by him, his head might explode.”
“That’s cool, Sylvie. I’ll find another way.”
“Sorry, babe. But if you need backup, I’m in. Creed doesn’t start trying to put his foot down about me being out in the field until the middle of the second trimester. And you know you always have him.”
Sixx nodded, wondering why she hadn’t noticed what good friends she had and the length of time she’d had them.
Unless deep into a pregnancy, Sylvie was always down to partner up or have her back, and the same with Tucker, no matter the situation, no questions asked.
She was seeing, somewhat uncomfortably considering how long she’d held her down, how having Simone back was a good thing.
And she was finding, definitely fortunately, with the friends she’d earned, it was a better-late-than-never scenario, not a too-little-too-late one.
Most important, though, was that now she had this understanding, she needed to keep her head out of her ass and take care of what she had a lot better than she’d been doing it.
“I can do legwork outside the club and computer work if you need it,” Sylvie offered.
“I’ll let you know after my meet with Coates,” Sixx replied.
That was when Sylvie blindsided her.
“If it’s this good, and I can tell it’s good, Sixx, kids only make it better.”
Sixx drew in breath and kept trying out this honesty-to-friends thing.
“I didn’t have the best of childhoods.”
Sylvie leveled her eyes at Sixx in a way that she believed every word that came out of her mouth next.
“I bet Creed and me got you beat. My dad … when I can drink again, I’ll share what he did to me, to Creed, the lengths he went to keep us apart. And years later, Creed sprinkled Jesse’s hair on that motherfucker’s grave. We didn’t make our boy as a fuck you to my father. But it was a helluva fuck you to my father. And that’s the thing, Sixx. In the end, the beauty of it is that you don’t need that fuck you. The fact you went on living, finding someone to love who loves you back with everything he is, and making babies is just that, all for you, all you need. It just becomes the beauty of your life. But it doesn’t suck either, having that damned fine of a fuck you.”
Sixx grinned at her again. “Oddly, for the first time in my life, I’m feeling maternal.”
Sylvie burst out laughing.
And Sixx, continuing to explore this sharing business, and finding it also didn’t suck, not by a long shot, laughed with her.
* * *
Sixx got home that night at a decent hour, having texted Stellan she would so he knew evening plans included both of them together for dinner … and whatever came after.
She’d met with Coates, who was a lot more together than she was expecting. Though she got the feeling that having one of his partners providing illegal sex-for-hire services using his meal ticket to do it had scared him straight.
He was also a lover not a fighter, and that love, and respect, extended to women. The mere thought his partner was taking advantage of the fairer sex was visibly nauseating him.
So she took the job, even if the guy could only hand her five hundred bucks in cash, saying, “Promise, Sixx, I’m good for it, and if I’m right, Clay will back that, and make sure you get your usual fee with any expenses.”
Now she just had to figure out how she was going to get what she needed as Mistress Sixx at the Bolt.
It was going to have to be observation and paid informants.
And that last part got expensive.
Not that she didn’t have it, or didn’t think Coates and his partner would be good for it, just that information acquired like that was usually expensive, but it wasn’t always accurate.
Undercover was the only way to go, the optimal play.
She just didn’t know who she could recruit to go in.
As she walked down the back hall toward the kitchen, hearing strains of Stellan’s favorite light rock station, primarily “Cool Change” by the Little River Band, she felt nerves start to set in.
They were real.
They were happening.
She was in love with him.
He was in love with her.
They had a future.
And it was freaking her out.
In order to handle that, she focused on the fact that Stellan listened to light rock when he was at home. But in his cars, he was all about Sirius’s Classic Vinyl and Classic Rewind stations.
He seemed like the kind of guy who would listen to Bach, Chopin, Beethoven, stuff like that.
Little River Band, the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd and Led Zepplin would not have been her call.
But she loved that about him.
Fortunately, this was her thought, not her nerves, when she turned the corner and saw him standing at the island, surrounded by the makings of whatever their dinner was going to be.
She stopped as she took him in in his suit trousers, his feet bare, his dress shirt still on, tie gone, shirt open at the throat, vest still in place, shirtsleeves rolled up.
He got her text, came home, got semi-comfortable, and started dinner for them.
And he prepared food exclusively at the island. He used the stove, obviously, and the grill outside. But all prep work happened at the island. Without fail.
She knew that about him.
She knew that later he’d put on jeans, or some lounge pants, or be wearing nothing at all because they’d be making love.
She knew the kind of music he listened to in his house and his cars, and she knew his washcloths in his private bathroom at his office were bright white and that he never put celery in his salads because he hated it and he took his steaks rare (like she did) and his martinis dry (like she did).
She also knew the reasons why he loved her.
And he knew her, down to the deepest part of her that was far more important than the fact she also loved light rock and classic vinyl and dry martinis.
And it just made him love her more.
He turned his head her way.
And yeah.
Right.
He was also so fucking handsome, it was nearly impossible to believe.
His lips tipped up in a welcoming smile.
Yes.
So … fucking … handsome.
“Hello, darling,” he called.
“Hey, baby,” she said softly, his head tipped sharply to the side, and she made her way to the island, taking only a slight detour to toss her stuff on the counter bar that delineated the kitchen from the dining area.
He was wiping his hands on a towel and rounding the island toward her when she made it to him.
He threw the towel on the island, watching it go.
Then he turned back to her.
And Sixx sucked in breath at the look she caught in his eyes.
It was good she did. It automatically braced her for when his fingers latched on her hips and she was up, ass planted on the island.
Before she knew it she was pushed back to the island, her head barely missing the ingredients for their meal spread out at the other end. Her red leather miniskirt was shoved up, her panties yanked down her legs, and lifting her head, she just caught Stellan’s going down, and she sucked in anot
her breath when he went down.
His mouth on her, working her deep, he spread her legs wide and ate her until she came, crying out his name, her fingers fisted in his hair.
She lost purchase on his hair when she was dragged off the counter, put to her high-heel-shod feet, turned roughly, and she felt Stellan’s hand working at her ass.
“Baby,” she breathed.
“Ass up,” he ordered thickly.
She did as told, tipping her ass for him, and he slammed inside.
Her hands flew out in front of her to brace against the counter as her head jerked back, hitting his shoulder, and he stuffed his face in her neck, breathing hard there as he fucked her harder, his hand going down her belly, she knew, toward her clit.
“No,” she whispered, catching it at the wrist, trying to stop its path. “I just want to feel you, hear you.”
“You’re coming again with me, sweetheart,” he said against her skin.
“I want—” That got cut off with a moan as his finger found her clit and rolled.
She pushed against her hands to rock into his thrusts and pressed the side of her head to the top of his, his face still buried in her neck, and they panted, she moaned and whimpered, he sighed and grunted, and finally his lips found her ear and he whispered, “Now, Simone,” and they both came.
She was shuddering against him in her aftermath when she felt that his arms had wound around her, one at her belly, one at an angle across her chest.
His hand at her shoulder moved to her cheek, turned her head, and she was just able to catch his warm, satisfied eyes before he took her mouth in a gentle, slow, wet kiss.
When he finished it, he stayed close, rubbing his nose against hers, asking quietly, “What were you thinking when you came into the kitchen?”
No hesitation, no prevarication, she gave it to him.
“That I like light rock.”
She watched that hit his eyes, reveling in the beauty of knowing he understood exactly what she was saying, before he kissed her again, just as gently, just as wet, but a lot shorter.
When he ended that one, he murmured, “You get cleaned up. I’ll make us both a drink.”
“I can man a martini shaker, hot stuff,” she noted.
His brows went up. “Really?”
“I might need some practice to get to your level, but I’ll never get it if you’re always taking care of me.”
“Darling,” he whispered, “that’s the point.”
Oh, she knew that.
And she loved that about him too.
“Baby,” she whispered back, “throw a girl a bone. I gotta have some of that action somehow.”
The beauty of that as it reached his eyes nearly made her knees buckle.
If they had, since he was holding her up with his arms and his cock still planted inside, it would have been okay.
But she would have lost that look, and she wanted it forever.
“You can make our drinks after you clean up,” he allowed.
“Much obliged,” she muttered.
He slid out and pulled up his pants before he bent to retrieve her panties.
She pushed her skirt down and took them when he handed them to her.
He did up his trousers as he moved back to his preparation station at the island.
She carried her panties with her as she headed toward the powder room on the first floor.
She also moved while calling, “Hot stuff?”
“Right here.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a small smile. “Just an FYI. I wholeheartedly approve of that brand of welcome home.”
He smiled back, and his was not exactly small, but it was roguish.
She loved that too.
She hit the powder room. She cleaned up. She slid on her panties.
Then she headed out and kept on her high-heeled black sandals that were made of precisely two straps, one across her toes, one around her ankles, and her blousy white top, because she was comfortable in them, and if Stellan didn’t take time to change to see to her, she wasn’t going to do it either to see to him.
Thus, she made martinis for her and her man.
They weren’t as good as his.
But on sip three, seated at the island, chatting with him as he made dinner, it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter on sip one either.
She was home.
And he was home.
And they had nothing but togetherness before they had to separate to take on their days the next morning.
So nothing else mattered.
* * *
Later that evening, after drinks and dinner, the pool light was roving through yellow, blue, green and red underneath them as Stellan and Sixx floated on his big, beanbag-esque pool floats.
They each had their own, but their floats were connected since Stellan had his thigh thrown over hers and his arm twined in hers, his fingers lazily stroking the inside of her forearm.
But it doesn’t suck either, having that damned fine of a fuck you.
Sylvie’s words came to her, and she almost cackled, lying on a float in the pool of a Phoenician mansion with a gorgeous millionaire, her belly full of an Asian salad made hearty with perfectly cooked flakes of salmon fillet, and a martini that led to two glasses of the best sauvignon blanc she’d ever had.
“You look amused,” Stellan noted.
“Life is funny,” Sixx replied.
He gave her a soft look. “This would partially explain why you look amused.”
She explained more fully. “I never thought about it, and it took too long to realize it, but I bested her a long time ago. But here I am, with you, and this is all for me. It doesn’t have shit to do with her. And that’s the best of all.”
The soft didn’t go out of his look, but there was some wary that leaked in, and Sixx could understand that. It probably wasn’t easy for him to go from her holding back to her giving it all.
She’d have to get him there.
That was something else she was going to best.
But right then, even though Sixx brought her up, it was cautiously when he continued to do that, asking, “Do you wish she could see all you’ve become?”
“No. I don’t even wish he could see it. I don’t really care,” she answered candidly.
“I think that’s healthy,” he said gently.
Carefully on the float, she turned slightly to her side, which meant hooking her leg firmer to his and crunching their floats together.
“Baby, I’m still a mess. It’s going to take a while to get used to being just me.”
“You’ll get there,” he murmured.
“Yes. On a pool float. At night. In a pool with a hot guy. Orgasmed up. Liquored up. And great-fooded up.”
The wary went out of his expression, and she liked it a lot better when gratification filled it.
“Domestic decadence suits you,” he replied.
“It would suit anybody,” she returned.
“Only those who earned it.”
She gave him a gentle smile. “I didn’t earn any of this, Stellan.”
“Yes you did.”
She stared at him.
“I pay for it, obviously,” he continued. “But do you think it meant anything to me before except being a place I enjoyed and felt comfortable being in when I was not at work? I grew up in greater opulence than this. It’s meaningless. Until you have it to share with somebody, to give to somebody, someone who appreciates it. Only then does it take on meaning.”
He just couldn’t be believed, even floating beside her, being all that was Stellan.
Honestly, she couldn’t take it.
“God, you really, seriously need to stop being so damned awesome,” she groused.
He burst out laughing.
She lost her pique, which poorly hid the depth of her emotion, and smiled while she watched.
“Now,” he said when his laughter died away, “we’ve had a great deal of weighty,
and I think it’s a good idea to have it, process it, but mingle it with a healthy dose of normal. Do you agree?”
She nodded.
“Then there are matters to discuss,” he went on.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like the fact I need to take a business trip to New York. I’ll be gone three days. I’d like you to go with me.”
Whoa.
“Well—” she started.
“Not for the workdays,” Stellan clarified. “I’ll be busy with meetings, and I don’t expect you to drop everything and take vacation in order to travel with me, and not simply because most of the time I’m there, I can’t be with you. But we could leave earlier than my meetings start, spend the weekend there together, and you can fly home Sunday evening as my meetings begin on Monday.”
That would definitely work.
And she loved New York.
But more, she loved this indication he didn’t think she could drop everything, take off on her job, her responsibilities, simply to be available to him.
She just kept getting more from him.
More love.
And more respect.
“If I have enough notice, I think I can make that work with Joel,” she told him.
“Excellent. It’s in three weeks.”
“I’ll talk to Joel tomorrow.”
“Lovely, darling.”
She smiled at him again, and she wondered if she smiled more that night than she had her whole life.
Maybe.
But who cared?
“Now, on to Ami,” he said. “It’s fortunate your caseload lightened because Aryas said this Mistress he has chosen for him is ready to meet us at the Club. Tomorrow. Ami is also keen to meet her, considering she’s a member of the Honey and trained there. He says even if it doesn’t work out for the long term, if she appeals to him, he’ll go forward regardless in the hopes it’ll be an enjoyable scene. His background checks and interview have been approved. So he’s free for tomorrow too. We can ask him to come at a time after we set to meet with her. If you don’t like her, we can approach one of the other Mistresses to work him so he won’t get nothing from the evening. If you like her, and Ami likes her, Aryas wants us to watch her with him. Although she’s working subs with supervision, she hasn’t strictly been let out on her own. Does that work for you?”
The Greatest Risk Page 40
