Page 62 of King of Praise
The words shatter my control. My orgasm hits like a freight train, white-hot pleasure exploding through my body.
“Naomi. Fuck … so perfect … mine…” I thrust deep, holding her hips tight as I empty myself inside her.
My cock pulses, pumping her full of my cum. The sensation triggers another orgasm from her—walls clamping down hard, milking every drop from me as she cries out my name.
I keep moving through both our releases, slower now but still deep. Each thrust sends aftershocks through us both. My cum leaks out around my cock, marking her as mine.
“That’s it, lovely. Take all of it. So fucking perfect for me.”
She trembles in my arms, little moans escaping her throat as the last waves of pleasure wash through her.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Naomi lost in ecstasy, completely abandoned to sensation.
And somehow, I’ve got to find a way to extract myself from this goddess and go to work.
It’s alwaysweird walking through the club during early morning hours. The space that typically house bodies pressed together, filling every open space, is now empty. Traces of last night’s revelry linger—the faint scent of spilled drinks, glitter catching the light like fallen stars, bass still seeming to pulse through the floorboards though the speakers fell silent hours ago.
I stand at the bar, coffee growing cold in my hands as Zeke paces the length of his office through the glass window above. His agitation manifests in taut shoulders and clipped gestures as he talks to Seb and Eli. Francesca’s recent aggressive moves have disrupted the delicate balance we’ve worked to establish in Columbus.
My fingers brush unconsciously over the nearly-healed knife wound on my arm. The traitor inside our organization who provided access to the men who attacked me remainsunidentified, creating fractures of suspicion that threaten to shatter our carefully constructed alliance.
I can’t help but wonder if Francesca’s responsible for the recent attack on me. Did she manage to buy the loyalty of one of our men? If so, we’ll find out and they’ll pay dearly for the betrayal.
Draining the last of my coffee, I head upstairs to join the others. Each step sends a dull ache through muscles still stiff from my morning activities.
I’m not as young as I used to be, though I’d never admit that weakness aloud. My job requires strength, requires others to see me as undiminished. Especially now, with threats multiplying like shadows at dusk.
The office falls silent as I enter. Zeke’s calculating gaze meets mine, weighing options I can already guess. Seb lounges against the desk with deceptive casualness, but tension radiates from his relaxed posture. And then there’s Eli. My old friend’s expression carries the same gravity weighing on my own shoulders. We’ve been in this game too long not to recognize when the stakes have risen beyond acceptable risk.
“Micah.” Zeke acknowledges my arrival with a nod. “We were just discussing Francesca’s latest moves.”
I claim one of the leather chairs, noting how the others unconsciously shift to accommodate my presence. Years of working together have created an instinctive choreography between us. “Tell me.”
“She’s been making rounds.” Seb’s casual tone belies the significance of his intelligence. “Meeting with the heads of every family in Columbus. Even those who’ve already pledged loyalty to us.”
“Testing for weak points.” I’ve seen this strategy before. “Looking for cracks she can exploit.”
Zeke’s jaw tightens. “That’s not all. Our sources say she’s been in contact with Nicolo.”
Fucking Nicolo Moretti. A man whose reach extends far beyond his territory, whose memory never fails, and whose grudges never fade. If Francesca has indeed allied with him, we could be looking at war.
“Confirmed?” I keep my voice steady despite the implications churning through my mind.
“Three separate sources.” Eli speaks for the first time, his deep voice resonating with certainty. “She flew to New York last week. Spent two days there.”
“Fuck.” Two days is more than enough time to negotiate terms, to lay groundwork for cooperation that could destroy everything we’ve built here.
Zeke resumes his pacing, each step measured and deliberate. “We need to know what she’s planning. What promises she’s made to Nicolo, what support she’s been offered in return.”
I see where this is heading even before he turns to face me. “You want me to infiltrate.”
It’s not a question. Of the four of us, I have the most experience with delicate intelligence gathering. Years as a “fixer” have taught me how to move undetected, how to extract information from subtle clues. More importantly, I have history with the Barone family—connections that might grant access where others would be denied.
“She’s hosting a gathering tonight, and of all of us, you have the strongest relationship.” Seb produces an elegant invitation from his jacket pocket. “Very exclusive. Very private. But our mutual friend in the security company she uses owed me a favor. He got me this.”
I take the heavy cardstock, studying the flowing script. An intimate dinner party at Francesca’s estate, ostensibly to celebrate her brother’s upcoming appeal hearing. Theperfect cover for gathering her allies, for solidifying whatever arrangements she’s made with Nicolo.
“Getting in won’t be the problem. Getting out with useful intelligence…” I say, voicing the concern we’re all feeling, “that’s another matter.”
