The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Finnegan

The car shuddered to a halt and I killed the engine.

For a moment I just sat there, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the world bled back in around me.

The roar of the crowd against the barriers. The thick, almost suffocating smell of burned rubber hanging in the cold night air. The car engine cooled down with a tick tick sound.

I yanked the helmet off and shoved the door open.

"Wolfe. Wolfe. Wolfe!"

The chants rolled through the race track and damn, what a crowd we had tonight.

Was it because it was a Friday night? I would have to talk to Arthur about it. Had he lessened the precautions on who got access to the race track?

My ears buzzed and my legs felt heavy as lead. I had driven too fast and almost crashed into one of the barriers.

Fuck, it had been thrilling but if I had been a minute too late, my body could currently have a long shard of metal sawing through me. All because I pissed as fuck.

Simons had tried to run. When I got the call Sunday morning after finding out he had been fucking my wife, I had almost laughed my head of.

The man had actually believed I was bluffing when I said I would ruin him. He had packed his bags, booked a flight, and tried to run away. Too bad my men got to him before he could escape like the slinking coward he was.

His little private investigation company would be rubble before the month was out. Every client, every deal and gig he had been running was going down in the mud.

The thought of that should have taken the edge off. It didn’t.

"Will you stop trying to get yourself killed every time you’re pissed?" Henry appeared at my side, his helmet tucked under his arm, slightly out of breath. "In case you missed the memo, as of fifteen years ago, there’s only one of you."

"I was blowing off steam." I grunted, ignoring his joke. When Devin was alive, it was difficult to tell us apart. Henry would joke back then, that I had a spare life if anything happened to me.

"Blow off steam when I’m not in the car with you, Jesus Christ," He groaned. "I think I peed myself a little."

I had nothing to say to that. The crowd was still at it behind us, chanting. Arthur sat in his VIP booth, holding his glass up to me. I tipped my head towards him and he grinned, waving us over.

Eric would be racing next and Arthur was rather excited to watch.

"Hey, handsome," A group of girls, three of them sauntered over to me and Henry, wearing tiny little bikinis that should be a head band more than anything.

My best friend immediately straightened, flashing them a playful wink and immediately began flirting with them.

One of them had dark hair that spilled around her shoulders teasing over her breasts and the one person I had been struggling not to think about filled my head.

That night in Boston, Her face flushed as she arched, taking every inch of me, moaning my name.

I gritted my teeth in anger and turned away from the girls.

Henry was in the middle of saying something that made one of them laugh, but his eyes cut sideways to me. He wrapped it up smoothly, said some charming nonsense that left them giggling, and fell back into step beside me.

"Your left eye keeps twitching. Do you want to tell me why you almost killed us today?"

"Drop it, Henry," I sighed.

"You look like you’re about to morph into a tiger. Oh yeah, did you fire your assistant?"

My jaw ticked. Shit, shit, I had spent all week hoping he wouldn’t ask.

His boots skidded to a stop beside me. "Ooooh, You didn’t fire her."

Yeah, the cat was out of the bag. Here came the mocking train in three, two, one.

"You did not fire her!" He cackled, grabbing my shoulder, disbelief scrawled all over his face.

"Oh my gosh. I should have made that bet with River. Oh fuck, now I lost me some hundred grand. River said you wouldn’t fire her."

My cousin was going to answer to me when she landed her ass back in New York.

"Damn, she must really have the elixir of life in her pussy or something-"

"Stop it," I snapped, irritation curling through me. Abigail wasn’t some common whore for him to talk about her like that.

Dammit, why was I even defending her?

"She’s competent," I grunted, ignoring Henry’s mocking grin, stomping ahead towards Arthur’s booth.

"Finding a replacement with her capabilities would waste time I don’t have. That’s the only reason."

"Mm, I totally believe you right now," He drawled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Think about it though. All three women you were losing your mind over, same woman. Most men would consider that a win."

"Most men don’t care about their dignity."

"Sure, sure." He waved a hand. "But she’s your assistant. She’s clearly brilliant, stunning, has you twisted into knots. Where exactly is the problem? I like her already,"

"The problem," I hissed, swatting his arm off me. "is that she played me. I want her to pay for that."

Maybe I was pushing a little too damned hard though. Just yesterday, Abigail did something I had never seen her do before. She dozed off during a meeting.

It rattled the hell out of me. Granted it was seven pm in the evening, I had made sure to hold that meeting that late and made sure to run her dry with errands through the entire day.

Okay maybe that sounded like some evil thing to do.but I never expected to see her chin dropping to her chest. She had been smart enough to snap out of it, sitting herself upright like nothing had happened.

I had run her into the ground all week. Stacking tasks on top of tasks for her, waiting for her to bite back, to snap, the way she normally would have but she hadn’t. She had absorbed every single thing without a word and it irked me.

Why wasn’t she fighting back? Why wasn’t she lashing out at me?

And why the hell did she look so exhausted? Was it just the work I was giving her or was something else?

"It doesn’t matter. There’s something else that we need to talk about," I grabbed his arm, stopping us both in her tracks. "There’s something odd going on between my mother and Victoria."