Page 55 of Stealing His Cupcake
There is indeed a ruby-throated hummingbird fluttering around the blooms. They’re quite common here, especially during spring when the trees bloom, so I don’t pay them much attention, but Amy watches the tiny creature with rapt attention and a smile so wide I wonder if her cheeks hurt from it. “It’s so beautiful,” she coos and my heart melts, demanding I get her a pet hummingbird immediately.
“They come here from time to time,” I explain. “I keep a big part of the yard natural so there’s lots of wildflowers for them to feed from but we can also put up feeders with sugar water if you want to. They’ll come more often, then.”
“Yes, please!” The bird startles at Amy’s exclamation but flutters back a few seconds later, the lure of the big purple blooms too strong to resist. “Yes, please,” Amy repeats in a stage whisper, turning her wide smile to me.
I’m instantly compelled to fulfill her every wish. “I’ll order some this evening. Along with everything else you put on the list. Good job on that, by the way. I don’t know what invert sugar is, so it’s no surprise I don’t have that, but I had no idea I don’t even own oven mitts.”
Amy’s smile grows shy. “They’re not really necessary. I could keep using dish towels, but you said—”
“That we will get anything you want, including oven mitts.” God, this woman. Is she really nervous about asking me to buy stupid oven mitts? Not for the first time in the past week, I’m deeply regretting not being able to get my hands on Craig. The thought of stealing and desecrating his bodyis more and more tempting. Really, the only thing stopping me is that I’d have to go to Kansas City, and I don’t want to leave Amy. Especially now.
The thought of Nolan darkens my mood, but I force myself to smile for Amy’s sake. Either she’s incredibly attuned to my tells or has an extra developed sense to warn her if people around her get angry, but she picks up on the change immediately. “Is everything okay?” she asks softly, raising a hand to my cheek. Her thumb scrapes over my stubble as she caresses me. “Is this… Are you upset about earlier? I’m sorry about crying all over you again. You must be fed up with it.”
I lean into her soft touch. “You can cry all over me anytime, Amy. I mean it. If you need someone to hold you when you cry, I’ll be honored to be that person. This…” I hesitate. Do I want to tell her how I fucked up? “Everything is—”
Amy puts her thumb over my mouth, cutting me off. “Don’t say everything is fine. I can see it’s not. I don’t need to know the details but… You promised not to lie to me.”
Kissing the tip of her thumb, I reply, “I wasn’t going to lie. I was going to say that everything is under control. I…I made a mistake today.” Damn if it isn’t painful to say those words out loud. “But I’m going to fix it. You don’t have to worry.” Nolan is a wimpy kid with a god complex. He doesn’t stand a chance against me.
“Okay. If you need me to tell the police you’ve been here with me all morning, I will. Just so you know.”
“Cupcake…” I’m torn between laughing and kissing her, so I do both. “I’m honored, but I don’t need a fake alibi. I work hard to make sure any evidence anyone could ever dig up on me is purely circumstantial. A lawyer fresh out of school would tear a case against me apart in minutes. Not that I will need one. Everything will be fine. Now, finish your lunch. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”
Chapter 40
Amy
SomethingisbotheringWyatt.My first reaction is to launch a deep examination of everything I’ve said or done in the past few days to figure out what might’ve set him off and start apologizing preemptively, but I hold back. As strange as my broken self-confidence finds it, I don’t think I’m the reason for Wyatt’s bad mood.
He said he made a mistake earlier today. Probably during his “errand”. At this point, I have no doubt that his “errand” meant he was off to kill someone, and my imagination is running wild imagining how it could have gone wrong. Did someone see him? Did he leave evidence behind? Did he fail to kill the target and is now in trouble for breaking the contract? I doubt kill contracts come with penalties for late delivery. Is a client angry with him, or is the police after him?
It’s funny how I don’t even worry about the fact that he probably killed someone this morning, or at least tried to. I should be appalled, right? Killing people is wrong. I think everyone agrees on that. Except I don’t really care for people. Most of them, anyway. I’m more worried about something happening to Wyatt, and that’s definitelynotsomething I’ll bediscussing with Miranda, because I’m pretty sure it would get me to jail. Since I doubt they’d let me share a cell with Wyatt, prison is out of the question. For either of us. I’m not sure how convincing I’d be if I had to lie to the police, but I’m more than willing to try if necessary.
Wyatt says he doesn’t need my help right now, but there are other ways a good wife can support her husband. I already made sure his stomach is full and now I’ll help him unwind by sucking his brain out of his body through his cock. Craig might’ve been a controlling asshole with a hidden dark side I’d rather not think about, but if he taught me one thing, aside from “always doubt yourself”, it’s how to give an excellent blowjob.
Wyatt barely let me touch him all week. Our sex, while amazing, was always about my pleasure. Only after I’ve come several times does he let himself come too, either inside of me or on me. Never by my hand, let alone mouth. He told me he didn’t marry me so I’d give him blowjobs, but to spoil and cherish me, and while that’s incredibly sweet—also probably a miracle—it ends today. I want to be the one to make him come. Not because I think I have to, as his captive or his wife, but because the thought of my sexy, badass hitman falling apart under my hands and tongue turns me on more than anything.
Iwillgive him a damned blowjob today.
My bravado flees as I finish my lunch. Even though Wyatt’s probably already waiting for me in the bedroom, I busy myself putting leftovers away and cleaning up, suddenly anxious about facing him. I can’t actuallydemandhe let me give him a blowjob, can I? What if he doesn’t like blowjobs? What if he thinks I only want to do it to bite his cock off or something? What if he’s disgusted by the idea of my mouth on him?
That thought makes me pause because, obviously, it’s nonsense. Wyatt kisses me all the time. We’ve done everything from chaste cheek pecks over slow and soft kisses to sensual, deeply passionate exploration of each other’s mouths until we’re gasping for breath. Wyatt isn’t disgusted by me, and I’m being stupid. Worse, I’m letting Craig’s poison spoil my excitement, and that is just not going to happen. Wyatt isn’t Craig. If hedoesn’t like something, he’ll tell me without putting me down. I can do this. I hope.
Wyatt’s sitting on the bed, wearing only a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. He’s scowling at his phone but sets it aside the moment he notices me, his scowl transforming into a bright smile. “Amy.”
Wringing my hands, I take a hesitant step closer. “Hi.” Oh my god, did I just say hi to him? I want to slap myself. “I mean… I’m here.”
Jesus effing Christ, who taught you to flirt? A cave troll?
“I can see that,” Wyatt teases, his smile softening. “Come here, Amy.”
Grateful that he’s taking charge, I cross the rest of the distance between us and stand between his legs. “I’m sorry I’m so awkward. I’m not really dominant. Like, at all. I just wanted to…”
Running his hands up my thighs, Wyatt squeezes my ass and hums appreciatively. “Yes? What do you want, Amy?”
As much as I try to rein in my insecurities, they keep rearing their ugly heads. “You never let me touch you,” I all but whisper, grateful that Wyatt is nuzzling my belly and not looking at me. “Do you not like to be touched?” Perhaps it’s a control thing. Living a dangerous life, maybe Wyatt doesn’t feel comfortable letting himself be vulnerable with someone else? Or perhaps the problem is, as per usual, in me. “Do you not wantmeto touch you?”
Rearing back, Wyatt looks at me with alarm. “What? No! It’s not like that at all, Amy. I just…” Trailing off, he rubs the bridge of his nose before seeking my look once again. “I didn’t want you to think that I married you just so I’d have a ready hole to put my cock in. Someone to suck me off while I’m watching football with a beer in my hand.”
