Every one of my dad’s properties has security, but the Miami house is in a neighborhood of rich people who also have security. Whether it is from a while ago, or my dad called while we flew to Florida, the security doesn’t let us in. There are cameras everywhere, and the guards are strangers to me, so we don’t hang around.
On our way back to the waiting car, a guy who used to work in Cuba stops me. It’s been a decade, but I’d recognize Javier Ramirez anywhere. His younger brother, Ignacio, said he was relocated, but I didn’t know it was to Miami.
“E?” Javi asks, holding a travel coffee mug. It’s not yet sunrise, so I assume he’s just getting to work for the day shift. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I might pop in and grab a few of my things,” I lie, since I rarely spent time in Miami. I’m pretty sure it’s my dad’s hookup pad, and I don’t want to see that. “But my dad isn’t here.”
“That’s a good thing,” Javi tells me, and I notice his English has improved in the decade since we were hooking up. Still accented like everyone back home, but he’s also matured to have facial hair and creases at the corner of his eyes. “Mr. Miller said you are not allowed here.”
“When did he tell you that?” I ask, leaning closer. If he has any feelings for me still, I can use that to my advantage. “Has he been here recently?”
Javi shakes his head and grips my shoulder. “Not for a few weeks, which is when he said you were cut off. Nacho said you were in Cuba last night with an older man.” Javi raises a brow to assess Mac. Looking between the two men, I notice similarities in their confident stance and broad shoulders. I think I have a type. “Are you okay?”
“He’s fine.” Mac steps in then, crowding me in until Javi has to drop his hand. I’m hoping Javi doesn’t recognize Mac, though he is in a ballcap. “He’s with me.”
Javi scoffs. “If you think you can keep him safe if Mr. Miller comes for him, you don’t have any idea what you’re up against.”
“I know exactly who I’m up against,” Mac replies and I hear an undercurrent of anger there. I know it’s partially about Di, but I can’t help wondering if my captor knows what my dad does to make him so rich. “Do you know where he is now?”
“I might,” Javi hesitates, biting his full lower lip and looking between us. When I nod, he sighs. “The guys who usually travel with him are in New York. That’s all I know.”
“Thank you. It was good to see you, Javi,” I tell him, taking his hand to give it a squeeze. With Mac’s possessiveness, I don’t think a hug is safe. For Javi.
Javi doesn’t try to warn us away from going, likely because he knows I’m too stubborn to listen, but he also knows ‘New York’ isn’t an exact location. We leave and make it back to the car as a rain storm rolls in, drenching us in the seconds it takes to get in.
We strip, and I’m disappointed when Mac sends me into the shower without him. I reemerge in a fluffy white bathrobe to find him on Di’s laptop again. “When are we leaving?”
“The crew needs more time between flights before we head north, but I have them booked for another day. I’d rather try getting in at night, so we have a few hours to rest.” Mac tosses me a bottle of water and gestures towards the giant bed through open French doors. “Drink up and get some sleep.”
There’s only one bed, but I get the impression he doesn’t plan to join me. He kissed the hell out of me in Cuba, and has barely touched me since. No, sleep isn’t what I want with him.
“And if I’d rather play with you than sleep?” I ask, untying the robe and letting it drop to the floor. When I’m bare to him, I take a swig of the water, following his instructions at least partially. Mac watches me as a yawn interrupts my seduction. “I can stay awake a little longer.”
Mac chuckles. “Sleep, pet. I’ll wake you when it’s time to get dressed.”
Holding back a growl of disappointment, I turn to give him a view of my ass as I walk away. Speaking over my shoulder, I run a hand along my outer thigh. “Suit yourself. But you can always wake me up for sex, too.”
“Is that so?” Mac asks, standing up and leaving the laptop on the small table as he crosses his arms and watches me.
“Mmhmm.” Crawling onto the bed, my dick swings between my legs. I don’t look back when I add, “You could alsonotwake me up for sex.”
Moving to my back, I see Mac walk to the doorway. He stretches his arms out to grip the doors, as if forcibly holding himself back. I don’t want him to hold back.
“I’m yours, Sir,” I tell him, dragging my fingers from my thigh, along my stomach, up to my chest, before toying with my collar, all without touching my nipples or cock. “You can have me however you want. Whenever you want me.”
Mac’s face is impassive, but I see him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “I already know you’re mine, pet. I can always do what I want with you. Now, go to sleep.”
Disappoint fills me as I pout my lower lip and drop my hands to my sides limply. “Fine. Goodnight, Sir.”
“Sleep well, pet.”
Mac closes the doors but leaves them open a crack. He already closed all the curtains, so there isn’t much light. And I am tired. Traveling and being on the move, plus the stress of the situation, has my body exhausted. Still, I toss and turn for a little while, thinking of everything Mac has ever said and done to me.
Falling asleep to the memory of his hands on me, of his lips on mine, means I have happy dreams. I can imagine him kissing me in other places. Kisses to my bare shoulders that trail down my spine and make my belly heat.
If only he’d spread my legs like he does in my dreams, lapping at my hole to help it relax before rubbing my tight muscles and easing a finger inside of me. Mac in my dreams takes his time, goes so slow I can imagine I’d be humping the bed if it were real.
When he has two fingers inside of me, a sharp pain tugs at my awareness. I can almost feel his weight behind me, bare skin sweaty as his chest hair tickles my back.