Page 74 of Sunrise Malice

“I’ve been part of a crime family my whole life, you know. My brother used to work one of these.”

“That’s true, but have you ever actually toured your family’s territory?”

I hesitate, frowning to myself. “That’s not a girl’s place.”

“You’re my wife,” he says, staring ahead. “That means what’s mine is yours, and I think you should see your kingdom.”

Hiskingdomis basically a bunch of drug houses and corners where his employees sell their stuff at the street level. He rolls up to the curb at a few locations and speaks briefly to several different men, all of whom give me curious but respectful nods. Julien speaks in code, never actually mentioning coke or heroin, but it’s clear what they mean when they saysoda popandsnow cones. “Not the most difficult to interpret,” I mutter at him.

Julien grins back as we roll on. “It’s not necessarily about hiding what we’re doing, but about giving us plausible deniability in court. My high-powered, fancy lawyers can use just about anything to sow doubt in the jury’s mind. Even stupid code.”

We drive around for half the day like that. It amazes me how many people Julien knows. Dozens of them approach, and he speaks to them all as though they were friends, and uses their first names without hesitating. I don’t remember my brother ever doing something like this. It feels like a manager checking up on his people.

“Aren’t you worried about the police?” I ask him as we roll down a quiet, empty street. Half the houses on this block are bombed-out and boarded over.

“Not for me, personally, but for my men. When they get pinched, sometimes they talk, and that’s a headache. Mostly they do their time quietly, and I pay for everything I can to make their lives easier. We have ways of dealing with it.”

He parks at a dead end and pushes his seat back. My eyebrows raise, amused, but I don’t resist when he pulls me across the center console and into his lap. I straddle him and lean forward.

“I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a drug dealer before,” I whisper, nibbling on his lower lip.

His hands grab my ass. “Then I bet you haven’t fucked one in a car before either.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Another checkbox.” He kisses my neck. “Or don’t you remember?”

I absolutely remember. But it’s more fun to pretend like I don’t.

He gets my jeans off and teases my pussy, slow and sensual, as he whispers dirty words in my ears. The windows fog over like in a bad movie, and it’s the middle of the freaking day, which makes me nervous as hell. Anyone could walk past—though I doubt they would, considering the neighborhood we’re in. Still, it’s objectively crazy.

And I take his dick between my legs like it’s the only thing in this whole world I really want.

Because it’s true. As I ride him, the car shaking, I realize how the past week has been like a long, slow creep toward this inevitable point.

I love when he calls me his wife. I love when he gets all jealous and possessive. I love being with him, laughing with him, letting him fuck me, taking his dick in my mouth, teasing and playing and being people together.

I love being with him.

He’s my husband, and I like it.

Which is objectively crazy. I came into this arrangement thinking I’d despise him, get through a couple of years, and make off with a nice payday in the end.

Instead, I’m taking his bare cock in his car while he calls me his dirty, filthy, soaking wet, greedy, needy, gorgeous little slut.

And I goddamn love it.

We come together. He’s dripping down my thigh as I lean forward, breathing hard. I feel him still pulsing between my legs.

“I believe that was two items checked off,” he whispers. “Car sex and public sex.”

“At this point, I don’t even know what’s left.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I know.” He runs his fingers through my hair.

“Can I ask you something?” I pull back. His cock’s still inside of me and I manage to slip my way up and over onto my seat.

He watches, amused as I pull on my clothes. “Considering you’re filled with my seed right now?—”

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