Page 144 of The Strength Of A Woman

“Let’s find a place,” I say, pushing off the wall and taking her hand.

The place is right around the corner.

A dark part of the rooftop, a less traveled area, a couple of unoccupied tables, and plenty of greenery.

We step into the shadows, and I widen my stance while she opens my pants and straight out takes me into her mouth.

“Let’s make it quick,” I say, still taking into account that someone might see us, which is not what I want.

It doesn’t matter who it is; we can’t risk having this story reach Varela’s ears.

Whether he suspects something or not is a different matter. I know how these people think.

They make decisions based on hard, cold facts, not their imagination.

“Yes, Boss,” she says around my hard cock.

I press my shoulders into the wall and tilt my head back, enjoying her mouth on me, the way she moves her fist.

Even experiencing that makes me feel better, although the whole point is to have that high and then relief.

Keeping my eyes half-closed, I scan the area and make sure no one comes close to us.

Interestingly enough, I see the other end of the terrace where I met Tullio and Killian.

This is probably one of the closest instances we have ever come to doing it in public.

I rest a hand on her head and guide the rhythm of her strokes so we can get where I want fast.

A dialogue cuts through the air. Two males talk quietly. I’m trying to catch a few words, get an idea of who they are.

It seems impossible.

They’re far from us, so I don’t worry about them. And then they walk around a corner, and I can no longer see them behind a few potted shrubs.

I quickly forget about them as Lani gets lost in what she’s doing, and I enjoy every bit of it.

One small noise travels to me, but I’m already on that nice journey up, and I know for a fact that no one can see us, so, while palming my gun, I let her finish me and give me the relief I seek.

I grunt as quietly as I can while having her lick me clean. And just as I nudge her up and fix my fly, two male silhouettes register with me.

They haven’t spied on us, but they surely could’ve gotten a glimpse of us.

Maybe even more.

“Who was that?” she asks, and I check her mouth to ensure there’s not a trace of me on her.

“No one,” I say, taking her hand and walking her off the terrace, using the door we had come through.

“Anyone you know?” she insists as we finally reach the hallway, and I can inspect her face and dress a little better.

“Callum?”

Her hand stops mine from brushing away a few strands of hair from her face.

“Who was back there?”

I ponder whether to tell her.