Page 189 of Dagger in the Sea

Pure ecstasy.

His forehead slid against mine, and my insides shuddered. The world made sense again. Something shifted in my chest, tightening, erupting. Everything had led me here, everything; the bad, the screwed up, the frustrations, the tears, the fuckups. Turo was perfect. Perfect. My insides hugged his gorgeous, powerful cock as he moved inside me, groaning.

His thickness filled me, and he moved more urgently, cutting off my breath. “Yes, yes—”

“You were meant for me, Adri. Only me. All for me.”

My heart beat faster at his words, his possession. “All for you.” I kissed him, his taste lighting me on fire and soothing me all at once.

Turo’s fingers dug into my hair, pulling tight as he ground into me, filling me. My legs hooked around his waist, keeping him close. My fingers clawed at his taut arms, and he encouraged every scratch, hushed cry, and moan he elicited from me on his every harsh thrust.

The two of us, together. Inside each other. Claiming a new life, new dreams.

Against the hot, damp skin of my throat, he growled, “All for me.”

58

Turo

The Housesof Parliament towered regally across the Thames, the sun’s afternoon glow washing the old stone in dark brassy gold. The sun was setting upon London. People had gotten out of work and were swarming the roads, the bridges. It was Friday, there was excitement in their rush of activity. Off to shops, bars, restaurants, the theater.

But Adri and I weren’t in any rush. We enjoyed an aimless stroll, her arm through mine, as we ambled down the South Bank of London, the ornate lampposts dotting the tree-lined riverside walkway our companions.

“You’ve been to London before?” she asked.

“Twice before. On family vacation, and another time when I was in college. I liked it very much. Beautiful city.”

“It is. A great combination of the very modern and the very historical. I like the energy here, it’s unique. I’ve never been to Chicago.”

“I look forward to showing it to you.”

“Me too.” She reached up and kissed my lips.

I held her chin. “It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together. I want to give you the world, Adriana.”

She squeezed my arm and pressed in closer to me.

“What would you like to do tonight? Where should we eat?” I asked her.

“Actually, I don’t want to share you. I think I’d like to cook dinner at home tonight. Is that terribly boring of me?”

“Sounds perfect.”

We got into a black cab which took us to her tony Mayfair neighborhood. All the townhouses looked alike along with rows of similar luxury SUVs parked up and down the streets. We went to a fancy butcher boutique and she chose beef filets.

“We need to make mashed potatoes with that,” I said. “The real thing, not from a box.”

“The horror,” she said on a dramatic shudder as I held the shop door open for her and she passed through.

Back at her incredible apartment that was filled with bold contemporary art and delicate antique furniture, colorful rugs, and heavy damask curtains, we set up shop in the magnificent black and white kitchen. She marinated the thick slices of organic Black Angus beef in crushed peppercorns, olive oil and wine, while I peeled the potatoes, cut them up and added them to a pot of salted boiling water along with a couple of garlic cloves. She’d lined up Irish butter, Jersey cream, and English mustard for me on the marble counter which stood waiting for my mash mastery. She created a salad out of mixed greens and thin slices of parmesan.

“Having dinner parties is a way of life here in London,” she said as she set down plates on the enormous marble island in the center of the kitchen. “It’s become theatre, rather competitive theatre at that. Everyone gets caught up in outdoing each other, making the biggest splash. They get obsessive about the prestige and the glamour of it. I went to a dinner once where the entire meal was made from truffles.”

“The entire meal?”

“Yes. The starters, the salads, the main course. The dessert. All of it. The novelty wore off quickly for me, and I couldn’t eat after the second course. ”

I made a face. “Jesus, that must have cost a fortune.”

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