Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Angel Cake glances mischievously up at me, “Is now the place to really talk about the big D?”
A mirth-filled eye roll is the only response she receives thanks to an unexpected flash of movement catching my attention out of the corner of my eye. Whipping my head in that direction, I’m not shocked to see anything out of the ordinary.
Because there’s no reason I should.
This is a secure facility.
Amateurs wouldn’t take the huge risk of coming after her in a crowd this size.
No.
Only pros would.
A real pro – like myself – could hit a target in a setting like this; however, they know my woman is off limits.
Even to international contacts.
That came at a steep cost to the company yet was one they couldn’t wait to pay. Angel Cake did an analysis about herself the other day while I was working out. One that basically revealed how much revenue she brings in as well as saves HE with the evaluations, the programming adjustments, and ensuring the system along with the paperwork are all going smoothly. What her skills do far outweighs whatever they’re shelling out for a few weeks while we locate and eliminate the threat.
Seventeen’s exact words.
She texted him the numbers too.
I considered that shit work.
But still fucked her in the kitchen until I felt better about them casually chatting.
Dumping our pockets to get through security doesn’t take long, and neither does scanning our box seat tickets.
Letting my brother put us up in one of the boxes that the players share to house family members who’ve come to see them play – or females they hope to impress – was the main reason I felt okay about bringing Arley here to begin with.
Too loud, too many people, too many points to cover becomes much more manageable when you’re on the highest floor, in a private box, with armed guards pacing the perimeter.
We take the nearest elevator with a small group of other people. I keep my arm wound tightly around her, and my stare continuously sweeping the scene until the very second the doors close. In spite of the fact, I didn’t see something, I felt it.
Someone was watching us.
And it’ll be their funeral if they try to fucking follow.
By the time we reach the box level, it’s just us and one other couple on the floor. One of the strolling ushers checks our tickets prior to pointing us to a section near the closest set of stairs. We happen to sneak inside the area mere moments just before the puck officially drops. Arley rushes to the edge, forgetting all about me, her manners, or the fact we’re sharing the space with my family. She simply plants her palms on the edge, sores to the tips of her bright green Converse, and leans towards the game like a hockey themed version of that scene from The Titanic.
Rather than resist admiring the view or ruin the opening moment of her first in person hockey game, I hang back. Fold my arms across my chest. Try to keep my eyes not on her round ass begging for my dick to dive between it but the way she’s grinning. And yelling. And enthusiastically shouting as if they’re on TV instead of down below.
“Her first time?” Dad cautiously asks from the seat closest to the buffet stretch.
I answer him in the form of an amused nod.
It isn’t until the first whistle is blown that she spins back on her heels to face the group she blatantly ignored. “Sorry!” Her fingers fly to shield her face. “I got too excited!”
“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” my stepmom lovingly reassures. “The whole thing was really cute!”
“Thanks, Linda.” Arley crosses over to hug her. “Good to see you!”
While the two of them engage in a greeting, my dad and I clasp hands into a hug doing the same, “Good to see you, Dad.”
“Good to see you, champ.” The pull back allows us to meet eyes. “Everything okay? It’s not like you to be late.”
“Yeah, we were jus’ uh…sort of…um…” my face briefly cringes during a poor attempt to find the right words, “lost track of time.”
“That’s what we call it too, ya know.” His wink occurs prior to maneuvering himself over to hug Arley presenting me the chance to embrace Linda. “Get over here, girly. You know the drill.”
He warmly squeezes her, and I give the same affection to the woman who’s never forced herself into a role she already knows is filled. “So happy you’re in one piece, champ.”
“Eh, I might be missin’ a couple chunks here or there, but nothin’ worth worryin’ ya over.”
She pulls away and gives me a playful swat to the stomach.
“Why are you abusin’ my little mijo?” my ma’s voice unexpectedly interjects prompting me to whirl around towards the door. “And does he deserve more abuse? Because he will never be too old or too big to be over my knee.”