Page 73 of The Fox

She mewls, hands flexing above her head. Every muscle in her curvaceous body is taut and primed to explode.

“One,” she breathes.

I position my cock at the entrance of her wet pussy and slam into her, moving her up the bed. I piston into her, punishing and unrelenting. Her body breaks, and she loses control.

“Such a good girl, Amelia. Such a good fucking girl.” I growl, my voice dropping as I bring her higher and higher. I am right there with her.

“Sir, please. Please. I’m so close.”

I contemplate edging her one more time, but I won’t last if I keep this up much longer.

“Come. Come like my good fucking girl,” I say, shoving her body up the bed with each well placed thrust.

She detonates and I feel her squeeze my cock, her shattering trying to milk me dry, and I am in awe of the sight before me. I gaze down, seeing her melt as she comes back to reality and the look of her face iseverything.I erupt, stilling as I fill her. While she is floating in pleasure, I pull out and go to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth.

I softly come back to the bed, waiting and brushing the hair from her face. Gently cleaning her, I toss the cloth in the hamper, and then snuggle in next to her. Placing a kiss on her head, I wrap her up in my arms.

“Good girl,kochanie.”

Amelia doesn’t say anything in return. She just nods, a satisfied smile slowly draws upon her lips, and I kiss her hair. I know that she’s had a rough time navigating setting up this showdown with Medina, and I haven’t made things easier. Amelia has been pulling the curtain back more and giving me a chance to offer insight, which I also know isn’t the easiest thing to do when you are used to running things alone.

The meeting with Medina is set at a neutral warehouse that belongs to Seamus O’Donnelly. Amelia had said that the man was hesitant to offer space but when he was informed that Medina had threatened Parker, there was a change in his tone. I’ve been assured that Duncan will be able to reach Amelia should things go south, but I cannot let her walk into this alone. I’ve seen the way Amelia approaches things when she is working. The woman is methodical, leaving no stone left unturned. From the way she checks that her blades are on her before leaving the house, to her weekend routine, to her corner table at The Morning Medusa and the order of booths visited at the farmer’s market, every component of her life serves a purpose. But in her methodology, Amelia has left no room for error and it is driving her to the brink of madness. Her attempt to keep Parker and myself safe is enough to make me pause and make plans of my own.

I run my fingers through her dark tresses, her purple highlights now faded to lavender. I never want Amelia Conte to feel like I don’t trust her ability to handle her shit. She can. Shehas.

But I will ensure that someone has her back…even if it makes her an angry hellcat.

CHAPTER 50

Rhodes---Burning Embers

In two days, Amelia meets with Medina. We’ve decided to have dinner in a bit with Parker and Duncan to run through the plan one final time. Standing at her dresser, I pick up the signet ring, rolling it in my palm.

I hate the power this holds over my girl, the way she refuses to wear it because of the pain it has brought upon her life—her body. The gold is heavy and cool, the signet is reflective of her lineage. The three leafed acorn has become reminiscent of pain, of loss, and of duty that wasn’t hers to bear. I know that if Amelia had her way, this ring would never be a part of her legacy. I know that her—our—future children, should we have them, would never know of it, that they would not be subject to the burden. A door clicks to my right and I hear her walk in, a sigh falling from her lips in frustration.

“That ring should be locked away. Nothing good has come from it.”

She’s in my shirt, the linen skimming her voluptuous body before stopping at the tops of her thick thighs, giving a tease of that ass I adore. There are three buttons undone, a peekaboo of lace, and the dip of her clavicle begs for my attention. I love the way she always cuffs the sleeves, lending a simple button-down shirt so much elegance. She scoffs, turning from me. I watch her walk toward the bathroom, her hands shaking out the curls from the top knot they’ve been contained in.

“Brand me.” Her footfalls halt and I can see the tension starting to build in her shoulders. Her hands fall to her side, flexing as she tries to control her reaction. “Replace every negative about this damn ring with me. With us.”

“Rhodes.” My name drops from her mouth, the echo rippling against the stillness.

Palming the ring, I stalk toward her. I need her to walk into tomorrow’s meeting without a single demon hanging over her shoulder. This is something I have mulled for a while.

I bring my face to the back of her neck, skimming my nose up to the base of her skull. I will always love the visceral reaction her body has to mine. The minute hairs stand, goosebumps pebbling her nape as I place the gentlest kiss where her shoulder slopes. I know what I’m asking. I know what this single act will mean.

“Brand me, Amelia Conte.”

Her breath hitches and I wrap one hand around her bicep, the other placing the ring in front of her. I know those storm cloud eyes are focused on the piece of metal as my hand runs down her arm, reaching for her hand and placing it there. Her body begins to tremble.

“I want your brand on my body. You and I are in this together. Where you fight, I fight. Where you lead, I follow. I am yours and I will call your name until you come back home.”

I watch as Amelia sets her jaw, my breath caught in my chest as I wait for her to make her choice. She turns in my arms and I see the war she’s fighting. “Mark me as yours. This will be the final mark inflicted upon flesh by this signet.”

She whimpers.

Softening my tone, I duck to bring myself level to her face. “I know,kochanie. I know.”

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