Page 33 of Overcast

Even when Jane’s light brown eyes have peered up at me while sucking me off, I’ve never noticed much more than their color or any other unique feature. But Stormi’s throws me on fucking pause and has me halting, overthinking, and listening to Bishop and Mills with their dumb as fuck ideas.

Thankfully, we didn’t get that far. Her lies aren’t something I can swallow.

But her skin is something I want to graze and cut just so I could hear any fact come off her lips.

A muffled growl of exasperation sounds in the direction of the extra bedroom, and my mouth curves into a smile as an idea hits me.

Lifting Jane by her ass with one of my forearms, I carry her towards the door that leads to Stormi’s new prison.

I also make sure her back slams hard into the surface in hopes of making my prisoner jump in surprise because I’m petty as fuck, and she pisses me off.

The woman in my arms moans as I sandwich her between me and the hard surface, kneading her ass cheeks and biting down on her bottom lip.

“Move your panties to the side,” I order before I drop Jane to her feet so I can liberate my dick for all intents and purposes. “Don’t take them off.”

Jane grabs the cotton fabric of her dress and hikes it upward, revealing her thighs and pink underwear.

One thing I like about Jane is that she’s not extra with her lingerie choices. Do I dig lace—sure—but would I rather focus on the important shit underneath—yep.

My cell rings in the back pocket of my jeans as I lower myself onto my haunches to Jane’s pussy. Only a handful of people have this number, so it’s imperative—most of the time—that I answer it.

Stealing a glance down at the screen, I don’t hold out on my heavy sigh.

Wade Lockwood, ladies, and gentlemen.

“What’s up?” I greet then run my flat tongue up Jane’s wet clit.

“Heard your sources aren’t talking.”

“Mhm, and who told you that?” I grasp one of Jane’s thighs, rubbing the inside of her soft skin with my thumb and generating a shutter.

“I thought you were some big badass who went off and murdered—oh shit, what did you use to call it to make Reagan feel better?”

This motherfucker.

If it wasn’t for me, my sister would already have a bullet in her head because he couldn’t take care of his own fucking problems—AKA, his wife, about four or five years ago.

Yeah, this isn’t the first time my sister has been through some shit. Before I had my sights on the problem and I solved it.

“Is there a fucking point to this conversation?” I leer, squeezing my phone in my hand. “Or did you have to puff your chest out a few times since you’re not of use anymore?” Meaning he’s not the president but some dumbass governor again.

Fucking loser went backward, which is what he always does.

“Listen, fucker—” Wade’s voice drops into an almost whisper. “—let me know if I need to ramp my shit up to protect my wife. Because I’m not risking a goddamn thing with her or Huck. If your boys can’t handle—”

“Watch your next words,” I seize before shoving two fingers into Jane’s pussy. “I have friends in higher places.”

Jane’s hands lace in my hair, not giving a shit that I’m having an argument with someone on the phone.

She better not, or I’m not doing my job right.

“I don’t give a flying load of hot shit who you think you have backing you, dickhead. Make. Them. Talk.”

I hit the red button on my phone and hang up.

Wade of all people isn’t going to preach at me on what to do. Besides eating out Jane with my prisoner on the other side of this door, it’s not like I haven’t been doing what I’ve been trained to do.

Except the little shit won’t spill a goddamn thing. My looks aren’t her cup of tea, she has a type for overweight, old men.

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