Page 129 of The Vow

Slowly, over the last year, the wall had begun to fill back up with new fedoras. Each one was a prize given to me by my wife for every criminal I’d helped the FBI put behind bars. At some point, we’d need another wall; I had a large blacklist that the feds had every intention of exploiting, and I had every intention of letting them. I’d never be free, but freedom, like any other commodity, was only worth something to someone who valued it. And I didn’t give a damn about freedom if it meant I had her.

“Nonna?” I took a few steps forward, again met with silence.

I didn’t feel fear or worry per se. Beyond my own security, the FBI had our surroundings so entirely monitored, they could count the number of ants that trespassed onto my property each day.

Unbuttoning my jacket, I headed for the bedroom. Usually Robyn let me know if she was going out for the day to visit her brothers or family, or if she was going into the city to meet with her girls, but she hadn’t said anything when I’d left for the Bureau this morning.

I made it through the doorway and stopped, finding my wife standing and staring out the window, completely naked save for the fedora on her head.

Her hair spilled like a swash of fire down the length of her back, all the way to the top of her ass. I caught her gaze in the window’s reflection.

“Robber,” I growled, my cock turning to stone as I tossed my jacket onto the bed.

Slowly, my wife faced me, rewarding me with the sight of her pink-tipped breasts and the bare seam of her cunt and the sultry smile on her full lips.

“Welcome home, Mr. Remington,” she greeted huskily, placing her hand on the top of the hat and dipping her head.

My brow arched as I reached for my belt buckle, my cock already weeping at the sight of her.

“Is that hat for me, Mrs. Remington?”

She slid her tongue along her lips. “Did you catch him?”

Himwas Gerald West. The leader of one of the largest child trafficking rings in North America. Because of the code I’d upheld in my former life of infamy, I’d never worked with him professionally, but plenty of other criminals I’d dealt with over the years had. Slowly, I picked up bits and pieces ofinformation on his operation knowing this day would come. In this case, my wife’s network of informants also helped with intel on West, though the FBI would never learn that part. She—we—kept her girls protected. Whatever information they found, Robyn brought to me, and I claimed it as my own.

“I watched them cuff him myself,” I said and dropped my belt to the floor.

I didn’t go far into the world these days. My deal with the feds meant that I worked out of a secure facility, providing them with my knowledge and tactical ideas on how to capture the criminals they were after. The highlight was days like today, when the mission was executed and all of us in the building watched on the monitors as the team successfully apprehended monsters like Gerald West.

Robyn dropped her arm to her side, the bold desire in her gaze meeting mine. “Then come and get it.”

She wasn’t talking about the hat.

And it wasn’t what I reached for.

The moment she was in my arms, my mouth was on hers, devouring the sweet warmth like I’d never get another taste. Maybe because I knew what it was like to lose her—to be without her for so damn long—I never took a single touch or taste or look or moment for granted.

Her arms wound around my neck, her head tipping so my tongue could dive into every crevice of her tempting mouth.

“Did you send Nonna home?” I growled, pressing her back to the window and feasting my way down her throat.

“Yes,” she moaned breathlessly. “Dinner’s in the oven.”

“Wrong. Dinner’s right here.” I dropped to my knees and covered her pussy with my mouth.

“Damon!” She clutched my head, trembling as I licked and sucked on her clit, swelling the sensitive bud under my tongue.

I lifted one of her legs over my shoulder, giving my mouthfree roam over her slickness. Listening to the cadence of her moans, I worked her pleasure higher, knowing exactly what it took to bring my wife right to the brink of orgasm.

“Oh god…” she panted, her fingers curling into my hair.

“Not yet, Robber,” I warned against her wet pussy. “You save that cum for my cock.”

“Fuck.” She bucked against me, needing more.

“Almost,” I grunted and reached for my waistband, undoing my pants with jerky motions to free my throbbing cock.

With a subtle shift, I cleared the fabric out of my way and then reached for her hips.

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