Page 78 of Fiona and the Fixer

“Dax,” she begged, and I realized I stopped moving.

I had one question left, but I wasn’t going to ask it now. Not while she was sweet and pliant.

I pushed her over into her orgasm and I crooned to her as she milked the cum from my balls. “So good, sweetheart.”

She’d admitted more than I ever imagined. It was rough. When I found out who’d hurt her, it was going to be even worse. Until I made it better. Made the person very, very dead.

When we both caught our breaths, I pulled out, dropped into Hannah’s desk chair and pulled Fiona onto my lap. With her pants caught around her knees, she sat sideways, but I had my arms around her. Tightly. I held her close, tucking her head against my chest.

I kissed the top of her head. “You’re my good fucking girl.”

Then, she cried.

34

FIONA

I cried all over Dax.Boogies and all. Tears never solved anything. Never made anything better, so I rarely did it. Maybe it was the powerful orgasm. Maybe it was the praise he gave me. Maybe it was the kiss on the top of my head. Or the hug.

Yeah, it was the sitting-in-the-lap hug.

I never got hugged or held.

Dottie’d gotten one in at craft night. Dax held me close in the Highcliff’s kitchen, but not like this.

On his lap, I felt safe. Secure. Protected. Cared for. He wasn’t using my emotions or my words against me.

“You saidthey. Who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice was soft, almost a mesmerizing purr. Or maybe itwas the orgasm that softened the whole world. And it might also have been the reason why I answered him.

“My father.”

His muscles went taut beneath me for the briefest of moments.

“Tell me about him,” he murmured, then kissed the top of my head.

I sighed. “My father is Vincent Genovese.” He remained quiet, which meant he didn’t recognize the infamous name. “Founder of Genovese Trucking.”

He stilled. No, froze. “Holy fucking shit,” he whispered.

He remembered the name now.

“It was on the news,” he began. “His trial.”

His hand kept stroking up and down my bare back. I wore only my bra. My shirt was on the floor. My pants and panties were down around my thighs. I felt exposed in more ways than one.

“He was convicted of murder,” he added.

I shook my head, bumping his chin as I did. “The FBIarrestedhim for the murder of his wife. It was almost twenty years after the fact and the only witness to the events before her death had been me, a five-year old. What put him away were RICO charges. Extortion. Bribery. Money laundering.”

“Wait.” He tipped my chin up so our eyes held. “You’rean FBI agent.”

I nodded, met his clear blue eyes. “I am. Why do you think I joined?”

35

DAX

I…I was stunned. Bewildered. Proud. A little scared because I never knew anyone with that kind of laser sharp drive.

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