Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

37. Odin

37

Odin

‘Labyrinth’ - Taylor Swift

W rinkled sheets. Tangled legs. Sweaty skin cooling in the morning sunlight. Messy hair. Glazed eyes. Humming in the shower. Eating slowly, savoring the taste. Experiencing it again on another person’s lips. Thrusting bodies. Deep sighs. Smiles so wide it hurts. Kisses so soft it could jumpstart a dead heart. Sipping wine. Watching sunsets. Holding hands in private. Flowing conversation with comfortable silences. Pure laughter. Making plans. Dreaming and living. Dreaming and living. Whispers in the heart of the night. Saying each other’s names just for the sake of it. Tiny arguments. Passionate embraces. Falling, stumbling, careening, head over heels in fucking love.

Damn.

I’ve missed this.

“Bend me over the table.”

“Hold me up against the wall.”

“The floor. I want to do it on the floor.”

“Not the pool. Water does not make things more wet. If anything, it’s the devil’s sand when it comes to sex.”

Etta is insatiable. As a matter of fact, so am I.

This honeymoon is nothing but sex, food, napping, and watching Twilight. We start the third one tonight. I am not looking forward to it.

“Bullshit,” Etta shouts, as we sip a glass of rosé, watching the sunset crest over the Mediterranean Sea. “You were nervous when Edward was about to step into the sun in Rome.”

“I was terrified,” I admit and sip my drink. Etta laughs, and the sound fills all the gaps and crevices in my soul I thought would forever be empty.

She’s wearing one of my shirts, her bare legs tucked up against her chest, her hair curled from all the pool water and my hands constantly pulling at it. We fucked not even an hour ago and I want her again. I don’t think I’ll ever not want her.

“I’m so full,” she moans, rubbing her slightly swollen belly after eating every single Greek delicacy we ordered for dinner that wasn’t seafood related. The way she sighs and tips her head back to rest against the chair stirs my lower body. Testing my resolve. She’s sexy even when she isn’t trying to be.

As Etta watches the horizon, I watch her. Every sunset I’ve seen in every country doesn’t compare to her beauty. This monumental display of nature, included.

My wife feels my attention on the side of her face. She turns and looks at me. “Why aren’t you watching the sunset? ”

“Because my view is better,” I reply. Etta’s lips part as she sucks in a sharp breath. Her blue eyes turn glassy, lined with water. She doesn’t let the tears shed, but I imagine she’s feeling a lot.

I’m feeling it too.

Every hour since we’ve been here, I’ve been thinking. About my life, about my future, about what it is that I want to be. Things that have never been given the light of day for a long, long time. Not unless it had to do with retribution and taking control. Things that make the world so much better and so much scarier at the same time. Things I might lose if everything goes to shit.

And I don’t know if I can do it again. I don’t know if I can lose another wife.

Thankfully, I’m saved from overthinking when there’s a knock at the front door. Etta shoots me a confused glance. This house is privately owned, not a hotel. If anyone is here, it’s not because I asked them to be. “Stay here,” I say to her, anxiety slithering around in my belly as I grab a gun from the bedside table and head for the door.

As I near it, my phone vibrates with an incoming text. I shouldn’t get distracted. But something about the timing seems coincidental. I read it with the gun still loaded and aimed.

Dom: It’s just a gift from Ford and me.

Ford: Use them all. I want details.

Ford: Hope you’re both alive.

Dom: I put my foot down at organizing funerals.

Smirking, I shove the gun into the side of my pants and shoot back a message. I glance back at Etta, who now stands near the bed, peeking down the hallway to see what’s going on. The sunset pools over her shoulders in streams of reddish pink, stealing my breath. My response is quick.

Odin: Still alive.

Ford: Thank fuck. Open our present! Send pictures!

Dom: DO NOT SEND PICTURES.

Odin: There will be pictures, but for my eyes only.

“What is it?” Etta asks as I come back into the bedroom with the box left by the door. It’s been mailed to this address, with the occupant’s names being Mr. and Mrs. Udon Colt. Etta snorts when she reads it.

Grabbing a steak knife from the mini kitchen, I slice through the sticky tape holding it together. Purple glitter puffs into the air, startling us both. We both rip into the bubble wrap to reveal the presents beneath. When we finally reach them, we both start to laugh.

Sex toys.

Lots of them.

Dildos—both single and strap on. Vibrators—internal and external. Butt plugs, whips, handcuffs, and a huge bottle of lube. At the bottom is a message:

Congratulations to the newly married couple. We hope you enjoy your time together. But in case Odin is lacking in the bedroom department, we have supplied some necessities to keep Etta occupied. We sincerely hope you decide to use them together instead of alone.

Have fun!

Etta holds each of them like their crown jewels. Then she unboxes a pink waterproof vibrator, holds it to her chest, looks me in the eye, and shouts, “Well, it’s been great, see ya!” and races off the bathroom.

“No, you don’t!” I grab her around the waist and throw her onto the bed next to the open box. She laughs as I come down on top of her. “We are definitely trying these out together .” I grab the vibrator from her hands, spread her legs, turn it on—pleased to see it’s been charged just enough—and hold it against her.

She jerks, writhing underneath me like I’m tickling her. “Wait, no, I’m not ready! My belly hurts!”

I kiss her stomach and slide up underneath her shirt so I can take one of her nipples into my mouth. Etta moans, holding me there, and I’m gone. I slip the shirt off her so I can lick and suck her chest, getting her body ready for what I’m about to do. “Use it,” I demand and hand her back the vibrator. She takes it, her cheeks flushed, an excited smile curling at her lips. I kiss her deeply, spearing her mouth with my tongue before I pull away and find another toy I want to use.

Etta sighs as she opens her legs and places the tip of the vibrator on her clit. If I was in a more generous mood, I would simply watch and tease her all night long, but I want to be inside her when she comes.

Making quick work of the plastic box of different sized butt plugs, I take out the smallest one and head to the bathroom so I can clean it. I come back into the room to find Etta’s focus on the black lipstick-sized object. “Care to try?” I ask, settling onto the bed between her spread thighs.

Her breath is shallow as she considers. “Does it hurt?”

“Not if we do it right and start small.”

Etta grins, her decision made. “Okay. I want to try.”

Flushed with heat and lust so deep it burrows into the middle of my marrow, I grab Etta’s hips and spin her over so she’s on all fours. Her breasts swing from the movement, pulling a moan from my throat. I’m gifted with the sight of my wife on her knees, bare back, ass up in the air for me.

“Keep using the vibrator,” I say as I tease her opening with my tongue. Etta shakes as I soften her up and her hips gently buck when the sensations swell. Leaning away, I strip off my shirt and squeeze some lube into my palms. I massage some of it onto Etta and use the rest to coat the plug.

I finger her asshole, placing my pinkie in so she gets used to the feeling. She gasps, tensing. “Baby, relax.”

“I’m so nervous,” she whispers as she gets more and more aroused.

It warms my chest, knowing she’s willing to try. “Don’t be. You’re going to love it.”

“Promise?”

That word rips through my chest, cleaving it open so it’s exposed to the elements of this relationship we’ve formed. I shouldn’t promise her anything; I shouldn’t give her hope. But I can’t deny her any longer. I can’t let her hold herself out on a ledge and not meet her there.

Throat constricted, I answer her, “I promise.” And it’s as easy as breathing now. If she asked, I’d promise her a lot of things. I’d give her the world.

Angling the plug in the correct position, I play with her pussy so she’s being stimulated in all the right places. “I’m going to start pushing it in. Just breathe.”

“Okay.”

I push, my cock hardening at the sight of Etta swallowing up the plug. She moans deeper as I finger her whilst the vibrator does its job. “Halfway,” I say. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” she gasps as it continues to slide in. “It’s so weird.”

“Almost there.” One more push and it slides in. I kiss each of her butt cheeks as she wiggles her hips.

“That’s not so bad,” she says, smiling at me over her shoulder.

Fucking proud and eager as shit, I bring her up, so her back is against my chest. I take control of the vibrator and make slow circles, pressing hard into her clit. Etta whimpers, holding onto my arms that cross her chest and stomach. I kiss her neck and suckle hard enough to leave a bruise. Then, when I feel she’s riding close to the edge, I turn the vibrations off, ignoring her protests, and force her back down onto her hands. I sheathe myself inside of her in one long thrust.

Etta’s elbows collapse from the pleasure. She falls into the nearest pillow face first, pressing herself harder against me. The plug stays inside of her ass as I fuck her, slow and sweet. Desperately, she reaches for the vibrator and places it on her sensitive clit.

“Oh, fucking hell,” she cries as she gets hit at every pleasurable point. I make it good for her the best way I know how. Following her breaths and the tiny muscle spasms, I thrust into her till I’m sweating, balls hitching high. I press my thumb to the end of the plug and pulse it inside of her to the same rhythm as my hips. Her pussy squeezes me like a vise, as tight as a fist and twice as hot.

“I’m coming, oh my God, I’m coming,” she exclaims. I laugh when I hear the sheer panic and excitement in her voice. “Oh, shit, Odin. Keep going.”

My name from her lips sends me tumbling, but not before I wring every last second of her orgasm out of her. “Come on, baby.” I grab her hips and thrust into her as deep as I can while she comes and comes and comes. She’s making those choked, overwhelmed noises that I’m obsessed with as she rides the wave of ecstasy unleashed under her skin.

From my position, I see her eyes flutter close, her lips curl into a satisfied smile when she finishes, and that causes me to erupt. I moan and grunt and curse as I come. My vision is stained white around the edges and my release is hotter than lava as I finish deep inside my wife.

Etta is a puddle of limbs once we both finish. I take the plug out as smoothly as I can, then I pick her up into my arms and take her to the bathroom. Her head lolls to the side; she’s so content. “Let’s have a quick shower and then we can watch the movie.”

“Okay,” she mumbles. I know for a fact she won’t watch the movie. She fell asleep in the last two and I finished them on my own. In the morning, she pretended it didn’t happen and argued that she watched them all. I filmed her snores during New Moon as evidence.

But despite that, I would do it every night for a long time if it meant she was happy. If she was safe. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep soundly again, but if Etta does, then it’ll be worth it. Everything in my life will be worth it. Because my wife is becoming my life and everything else seems irrelevant now.

Everything else doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s the middle of the night, and like I suspected, I can’t sleep.

Etta is dreaming deeply; her expression blissful. Turned over onto her side, my body tucked behind hers, I stroke her hair and count her breaths. Each one is as special as the last. And I don’t want to miss any of them. I don’t want to think about whether or not they’re numbered.

My phone rings from its place on the bedside table. I let it go unanswered. I don’t want to leave her side just yet.

It rings again.

Weary and pissed off, I place a kiss on Etta’s temple and roll over to pick it up. It’s a number I don’t recognize. But the American area code urges me to answer.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” I say, keeping my volume low.

The voice on the other end is neither startled by my rudeness, nor annoyed. “My apologies for interrupting your honeymoon, Mr. Bolt. But we didn’t really get a chance to talk after the wedding.”

“Should I be calling you Henry or Leo?”

“Henry will suffice. Leo is buried in the past.”

Sighing through my nose, I open up the balcony doors and head out into the night to listen to whatever Henry Martin has to say. “This better be good.”

“For your sake, I hope it is, too.” From the silence on the other end, it’s obvious Martin is somewhere private. He clearly has something of importance to say. And if he does, then it’ll have to be quick. I haven’t changed phones since I got here. Cerbera might have tapped it by now.

“Go on.”

“The DEA is aware of your plans to control the Lombardos, Mr. Bolt. That’s why I was sent undercover to monitor them. As much as I appreciate your determination, I believe there might be a better way to achieve your plans. ”

“Like?”

He has the balls to ignore my question and pose another. “Have you been enjoying your time with your new wife?”

My pulse races, the night sky threatens to swallow all the light Etta transferred to me during our time here. Even the mention of her existence from someone else’s mouth makes me paranoid as shit and utterly desperate to protect her. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he replies, keeping his voice neutral. “Look, your attempts to hide your emotions during the wedding were decent, at best, but not foolproof. I believe you are a smart man, Mr. Bolt. You have already been hurt by the Lombardos once before. I do not believe you would let it happen again. So, instead of ruining your future with your new wife, I think you should let them go. Hand them over. Wash your hands clean.”

“That seems like a bold request, considering the DEA didn’t give a shit about them, even when they knew they’d murdered my wife.”

“The bureau is not perfect. Nothing is. But I want to see them brought to justice. I want the greed and the violence to come to an end, too.”

The wind caresses my cheek, cooling the ruined skin over my missing eye. Martin makes a nice little speech. But he hasn’t gotten his hands dirty like I have. He hasn’t seen the type of carnage they leave in their wake when they don’t get their way.

“Sounds nice and all, but you’re one man, and the Lombardos are a corporation. They’ll keep coming back again and again, and if they discover I’m a snitch, they will do exactly what they did to my previous wife to my new one. I can’t risk that.”

“Do you plan to keep her with you, Mr. Bolt? Do you plan to bring her into that world or hide her from it? ”

No answer comes to mind. Nothing but despair at having to separate myself from Etta or let her stand beside me, her chest exposed to the firing squad.

“You have money, Mr. Bolt, but you have never been in the spotlight. I don’t think you want to be. If you work with us, if you reveal everything to the DEA, we can help you go into hiding, change your name, and protect your wife. Live a different life, one free from blood and pain.”

“That’s a dream. Not reality.”

“Only if you believe it to be,” Martin says, pausing for effect before continuing. “I assure you; the Lombardos can be brought to justice the correct way. You can find peace and your family will have a fresh start. Think on it.” Martin hangs up and the silence he leaves behind is loud. Deafening.

Peace? Does he know how this world works? Does he know that when happiness becomes a significant part of your life, it only means that your days are numbered, your soul has been marked to endure suffering when the time is right?

“Odin?” Etta calls from within the bedroom, her voice small and distant.

I’m tempted to throw my phone into the sea at the bottom of the hill. Maybe then my body wouldn’t weigh so heavily. Maybe then my head would be clearer.

But it won’t fix it. That’s my job and my job alone.

In the bedroom Etta is awake and searching for me. She reaches out her hands, pulling me against her. “I missed you,” she whispers into my ear when I wrap my arms around her slim shoulders. “Even in my dreams, I miss you.”

“Etta…” I groan, letting my weight fall on top of her. I know she’s strong enough to catch me. It shouldn’t be that way. And yet, with her, it always is. She’s the hero who saves the damsel. “Your heart’s too big for this world.”

She chuckles, sleepy and wistful. “No, it’s not. It’s just the perfect size for my world.” She kisses my neck, my cheek. “And yours.”

I slip under the sheets, feeling like I’m floating, and Etta is the wings to give me direction. I’ve worn gold on my face for ten years and never once felt like I deserved it, not until she stood before me and reflected back into my soul.

The wind outside builds in intensity, flinging the drapes around like they're dancing. Etta rubs her hand along my naked chest, resting her palm above my heart. I think she might go back to sleep until her fingers travel lower to the strip of hair leading to my groin.

“I’m not tired anymore,” she murmurs suggestively.

“Me, neither.”

We make love till dawn.