Page 65 of Wicked Pursuit

I could only stare at them for a horrifying moment, completely lost as to what to say.

Sorry, I thought the other guy was you and I let him go down on me and I’ve just realized I don’t even know his name and ohmyfuckinggod where are my panties?

Accept your invitation here.

EPILOGUE

CASIMIR

I’ve chosen my seat in the dingy bar carefully. I can see the entire room, my back is to a wall, and the low light of the place means no one is looking at me too closely.

Ruby sure as fuck doesn’t see me when she waltzes in an hour later. She’s dressed in a tiny red dress that barely covers her ass and has her tits threatening to spill out with every step she takes. No surprise that all eyes in the room are on her.

I sip my beer and watch her work. True to form, she’s opening herself up to whatever trouble comes her way. She leans on the bar, and her skirt rides up. My body goes tight. There’s nothing I want more than to stalk across the bar, toss her over my shoulder, and take her the fuck out of here.

That’s not the game we’re playing.

My hand drifts to the hilt of my knife. It’s all too easy to picture blood spraying the wall from the slit throats of every single person staring hard at the hem of her dress to see if she’s wearing any panties. She’s not. Even the hint of her pussy is more than I want to share with these fuckers.

But we’re not playing that kind of game tonight, either.

It’s a couple who catches her interest, because my girl does nothing halfway. The white woman is petite and even shorter than Ruby, a pretty brunette with a wicked smile and wandering hands. Her man is a white guy who’s muscle for the Sarraf family. I don’t know his name off the top of my head, but I’ve seen his picture in the dossier my family compiled before coming to Carver City. Nothing of note there, which means he keeps his head down and does his job.

I suppose there are worse options she could choose.

They take her to the round booth that’s a step up from the main floor. High enough that I can see under the table without trouble. Jealousy sinks into me, rooting through every part of my body as I watch the woman kiss Ruby’s throat and delve her hand between my woman’s thighs. The shadows are too deep to see her part Ruby’s pussy and press her fingers deep, but there’s enough movement visible that I know that’s exactly what she’s doing.

Ruby’s gaze cuts to the door, looking for me. Smug in the way of a brat up to no good. My cock is so fucking hard, I’m having trouble keeping still. I want to cross to her, flip the table, and . . . Nah, I want to fuck heronthe table. To claim her in front of every single person here.

The enforcer cups her jaw and she covers his hand with hers. The giant ruby on her ring finger has me relaxing my grip on my knife. I promised no violence, promised to play the game we both enjoy, but fuck if it’s as easy as I expected.

I am who I am.

Watching my wife come at the hands of another does something to me,forme. She’s having the time of her life, but she keeps looking for me, anticipating the moment I put a stop to all this. A little game we’ve played out many times since she put on my ring and we exchanged vows.

Sometimes, I let them fuck her—or her fuck them, more accurately. Not tonight. I’m too fucking restless. But she hasn’t orgasmed yet, and I’m content to . . .

The enforcer reaches for the front of his pants and withdraws his cock. Without a goddamn condom. “Motherfucker.”

I push to my feet and reach their table in second. All three of them freeze. The enforcer goes pale and holds up his hands. “We didn’t know.”

“My ring on her finger.” I have my knife in my hand without intending to. I promised I wouldn’t spill blood, butfuck, it’s hard not to sometimes. “You.” I point my knife at the woman still plastered to my wife’s side, her hand still under Ruby’s dress. “Back off.”

Ruby shivers, her blush deepening even as she raises her chin. “Hey, baby.”

“Up. Now.”

The little brat doesn’t bother to do things the proper way. She just climbs onto the table, flashing her cunt at the poor assholes who thought they’d get a taste of it tonight, and crawls to me. Then she stands on the table and hops into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” I cup her ass and walk away from the table, ignoring the soft cursing of the enforcer. He’s not going to do shit and we both know it.

“I am.” She digs her fingers into my hair and her heels into the small of my back. “Fuck me, husband. Hurry.”

I carry her through the bar to the bathroom. The lock is broken on the door, but neither of us gives a fuck. My wife will come all the harder if someone does walk in on us. I set her on the counter and shove up her dress. She’s so wet, she’s glistening.

“Always so determined to give away what’s mine,” I murmur. The words are true enough, but I say them now because they get her off harder. I pull down her dress until her tits pop free. “No bra. No panties. You came here to fuck someone you weren’t supposed to.”

“No . . .” She’s breathing so hard that her breasts shake. “Maybe.”

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