Page 93 of Wicked Arrangement

I grind on him slowly, aware that we have to make things quick but wanting to savor the pleasure all the same.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he moans, and I can tell he’s using every ounce of his control not to cum before me.

“I’ve missed you too,” I respond, arching my back and throwing my head back in pleasure.

He kisses me passionately, gently caressing me and looking at me as though I’m the most precious, beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. I increase my pace, feeling my orgasm building. I can tell that he’s close to climax as we move perfectly in sync. I’m trying to stay quiet, worried the driver will hear us but I can’t help but let out loud breathy moans as I feel myself ready to tumble over the edge.

“Cum with me baby,” I gasp, feeling my pussy clench as his cock hits my g-spot again and again.

“Fuck, Kim,” he says as I feel him let go, his seed pumping into me.

I let go, my own climax hitting me in a wave of pleasure. As the orgasms roll through my body, only one thought runs through my mind, God, I love this man.

But for some reason, I still can’t seem to say the words.

***

The Gillihan household is an impressive colonial mansion in a rural part of Georgia. The nearest neighbors are miles away and the house is surrounded by gorgeous woodland and rolling hills.

As we pull up, the front door opens and a couple steps out, waving at us. Gillihan and his wife look nothing like I expected. Thomas Gillihan is a large man, overweight yet ina way that suggests there’s strength behind his considerable frame. He’s bald and wearing a full three-piece suit, despite the heat of the day. His wife is practically the opposite. She’s tall for a woman, standing at the same height as her husband, and where he is large, she is incredibly slim. She has long hair, almost to her waist. It’s tastefully highlighted, giving her a natural look. She’s classily dressed in a pair of loose, cream slacks and a silk blouse in the same color. The kind of effortlessly chic woman that can pull off all white.

I immediately feel nervous and intimidated. What if she’s a raging bitch or looks down on me? I wish I’d worn something classier now than the simple tea dress I have on.

Yaroslav takes my hand, comforting me silently as though he can read my mind, as we get out of the car and walk toward them.

“Welcome!” Gillihan says, breaking into a wide smile and throwing his arms open in greeting.

Yaroslav steps forward to shake his hand, “Good to see you Thomas, thank you again for inviting us. Mrs. Gillihan, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” she replies with a genuine smile.

I note that she has slight wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, and I am surprised that a mobster’s wife has opted to age naturally and forgo Botox or surgery as I might have expected. Her voice is dulcet with a Southern accent, she exudes good old-fashioned Southern charm.

“You must be Kimberly, it’s wonderful to meet you, I’m Grace,” she says genuinely, turning her attention to me.

I like her immediately.

“Nice to meet you,” I reply shyly, shaking both her and Thomas’ hands in turn. “Thank you so much for offering to let me stay here, you have a beautiful home.”

She waves a perfectly manicured hand, dismissing my thanks, “It’s our pleasure, the girls and I will be grateful for the company. They’re at school currently but they should be home soon,” she says fondly, referring to their twin daughters.

“Please, come inside,” Gillihan says, “Grace, why don’t you give Kimberly the grand tour and show her the room she’ll be staying in while Yaroslav and I talk business?”

I’m nervous to leave Yaroslav, but he gives my hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze and Grace smiles warmly at me, giving me the courage to follow her into the house and leave Yaroslav with Thomas.

I’m blown away by the tasteful décor and elegant yet homely feeling that the house has as Grace gives me the grand tour. As we walk around, Grace puts me at ease, chatting amicably and making small talk. I immediately warm to her, she’s nothing like how I expected the wife of one of the most notorious crime families in America to be. I feel guilty for having made assumptions about her before even meeting.

“And last but not least, this is the room you’ll be staying in,” Grace announces, opening the door.

I let out a gasp of surprise and awe. Like the rest of the house, the room is beautifully decorated, but this room is less minimal than some of the others. The stunning four-poster bed has a brightly patterned quilt on it that looks to be handmadeas well as several tastefully clashing scatter cushions. The walls are equally adorned with bright artwork and tapestries. On the floor is a woven rug and some comfy-looking ottomans. The whole effect feels like I’ve stepped into an Eastern bazaar, yet it’s paired back with minimal touches too.

I can’t help but wonder if Grace had the house, and this room especially, professionally styled and decorated. It screams high-quality interior design. Grace watches as I take everything in, gently touching the different textures and items with reverence.

“So, what do you think?” she asks, almost nervously.

“I love it,” I breathe. “The whole house is gorgeous, but this room in particular is something else,” I gush. “If you don’t mind my asking, did you have an interior designer?”

“Of course, I don’t mind. Thank you for your kind words, yes we did… me,” Grace replies humbly.

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