Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple. Sometimes.

I can’t seem to catch a break when it comes to Sage as my phone rings, interrupting my tongue plunging into the most delicious mouth on the planet. My cock is pushing relentlessly up against her upper belly as she makes those fuck-me noises that drive me feral.

Sighing, I curse as frustration rears its ugly face, “Fuck. I’ve gotta take this, doc. Pardon.”

Easing back, I release Sage reluctantly, her eyes burning with the desire I’ve conjured in our heated exchange.

“What? Yeah, okay. No problem,” a dazed Sage remarks as I’m walking away.

A satisfied grin splits my face from ear to ear. I won that round, baby. There’s still a lot to figure out with the Sage decoding. But rest assured, the puzzle’s coming to fulfillment, piece by triumphant piece. A solution is in the works. Failure is never an option in my world.

The call was the norm. Trident Security operations. It’s long past time for business as usual. Now with the mysterious ‘who done it’ to Sage issue, I need to solve this and fast.

Unfortunately, my brain and my other head keep venturing off. Both longing to return to the previous encounter with Sage. Sucking her plump lips and tongue into my mouth, driving us both wild.

A few days later, I’m no closer to learning anything more than I already knew about my future baby mama’s stalker. I’m waiting on a callback. A call which I hope will enlighten me and my hunch. A gut feeling plagues my innards, causing a consistent knot in the pit of my stomach. If I’m right, it’s a warning that things are about to get a whole lot worse. For once, I pray I’m dead wrong.

The constant daily battle between Sage and me remains intact. Brief moments alone, then interruptions, next she’s gone. It’s a continuous pattern that requires maximum effort. On my part, at least. My blue balls ache from her teasing touches and scantily-clad body that Sage playfully paraded around me for the past couple of days.

My phone rings, and I slide the bar across the phone to answer, “This is Lukas.”

“Lukas. Santiago here. How was the wedding?”

“Good, sir. It was legend, in an Ollie kind of way,” I muse and chuckle at the thought.

“I’m sure it was. Real glad that Oliver and Fallyn were able to find a little piece of happiness. The Blackwood family has been through enough. And that girl and her daughter have been through hell and back. Yeah?” Agent Santiago confers.

“Truth. What’s up, Agent Santiago? I know you didn’t call me for my charming personality and to chitchat about namby-pamby bullshit. You got me some answers?”

I walk into Oliver’s office, shut the door, and secure the room before we resume the conversation. My actions spurred from the possibility of overhearing snoop-dog ears. The snoop-dog-Sage variety.

We’ve worked on a shitload of cases with FBI Agent Kenny Santiago over the years. He's good people. Recently, he took the rap for killing Roman Cabricci in order to throw the mafia family off Fallyn’s trail. She was the one who pulled the trigger that day and ended the constant nightmare she’d lived for fifteen years.

Santiago took the credit for the kill. A fabricated story in order to protect Fallyn and Harper, a tale everyone involved will take to their graves.

So far so good. It’s only been a couple of months, but there hasn’t been any talk out on the dark web otherwise. For now, we’re in the clear.

As for Agent Santiago, he’s a standup guy and can be trusted, if good is doing the right thing.

“I’ve been looking into the information you sent me. Got some intel I wanted to pass along. I’ve been trying to get ahold of Keagan, but his phone isn’t working,” he replies in a frustrated voice.

“Keagan’s gone dark. Won’t be available until next week sometime, sir.”

“Well, then, I guess it’s you and me, son.” He hesitates and then begins to relay the information. “I received details from an informant that Mustaf has resurfaced. The fuck-face monster. It seems that he’s been working for years with the Cabricci family, just as we’d originally thought. Passing along slaves for gun trade and vice versa,” Santiago continues.

“Right. We’ve known this, sir. However, we’ve never been able to connect the dots. He covers his tracks well,” I recount as the frustration of where the conversation is going sends a nasty phantom pain to my lost limb.

This is nothing new to either one of us. It’s been a long and treacherous journey trying to capture the illusive Mustaf. The same one believed responsible for the loss of my lower leg. The diabolical mastermind suspected to be guilty for all the misery my friends and I have endured. Brothers lost and lives changed forever all because of one sick motherfucker.

“It’s confirmed, Lukas. There’s been chatter and it’s not good. It appears Mustaf has moved his interest to the Blackwood family.”

“What the fuck, Santiago. Why would Mustaf be interested in the Blackwoods? He’s a terrorist. And what exactly does that mean? Which Blackwood does he have a hard-on for?” I question, the answer an important part in our security of the family.

It’s the backbone of our business. Take care of the family first. And, since Keagan and Oliver are married to two of the Blackwood sisters, they come first.

Santiago mumbles through the line, speaking to someone else.

“Hang on a second, son. I’ll be right back.”

While I wait for Santiago to come back on the line, I sit down in the chair in front of the bookcase, guiding the concealed keyboard out of its hiding place behind a pull-down drawer. A few keystrokes later, and a fake partition slides open, displaying a wall of monitors. I click a few more keys, and the monitors come to life showing every room in the main house, the perimeter outside the house, and several other primary areas around the compound. Finding the live feed desired, I zoom in to a view of Sage and Harper in the kitchen, talking, laughing, and cooking. Safe.

This shit with Mustaf doesn’t make sense. I’m all scrambled up trying to figure out what’s up and what’s down, like on a speeding roller coaster with loops and twists. Keeping my stomach in a partial knotted fashion.

What’s the connection between Mustaf and the Blackwood family? What could he possibly want with them? I’m shocked silly by this newest revelation.

“Okay, I’m back. I had to make sure before I continued. Just received another alert a few moments ago, another round of intel came over the coms. It’s a positive I.D.,” the agent notes.

I focus my attention on Santiago and engage in the discussion. “Alright, we recently connected the relationship between Matilda and Roman’s father, but Mustaf?” My voice intensifies, the irritation coming to light.

“I understand the aggravation, son. And what I’m about to tell you, you’re not gonna like one bit. A Blackwood name was mentioned in the chatter. One of the sisters, Lukas. Sage Blackwood, to be exact,” Santiago delivers to me the unwanted news.

My blood begins to heat up to a magma boil, the swelling in my veins causing a relentless pounding in my ears. The fog comes hard and fast as everything around me falls away except for the hammering and pumping ringing loudly.

What does Sage have to do with any of this?

“Luc. Lukas!” Agent Santiago shouts into the phone.

“Sorry, sir. Did you say Sage Blackwood?” I question, my tone parched from the astounding report the agent just provided.

“You okay, son?” He patiently awaits my answer.

Gaining what’s left of the little self-control I have, I add, “Yes. I’m good, sir. Continue.”

The bile erupts from my gut and makes a hasty retreat into my throat. I bite back a groan and gulp quickly. Trying to keep the vomit from exploding as my stomach churns and rolls.

“Are you sure, Lukas? You don’t sound well.”

Taking in a few deep breaths, I maintain, “It’s all good, sir. Go ahead.”

“It’s affirmative, Lukas. Not sure what it all means, yet. But rest assured, son, I’m on it. I’ll let you know when I find out more,” Santiago counters in an optimistic tone.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Let Keagan know I’ll be in touch.”

“Will do, sir. And in the meantime, I’ll keep my ears to the ground and my fingers on the keys,” I assure him of my commitment to the cause.

“I’m sure you will, Luc. It’s what you do best. No one monitors a hall like you guys from Trident Security. You are some of the finest around. Have been since the Middle East. I appreciate the fact that I can count on and work with all of you. It’s a pleasure to have you on our side.”

“The feeling’s mutual, sir. We’ll talk soon.”

I end the call. My mind is running on overload and a prickly heat begins to take over my entire body. The nausea still in full force.

Not only have I had a wicked crazy sparing with my girl on and off this week, but now there’s the whole idea of someone from Sage’s past who’s wreaking havoc on her life. That certain someone is Mustaf, or someone who is part of his band of crazies. And they have a boner for my Sage.

At the beginning of the week, the last real time we crossed swords with words, I completely lost myself in the moment. When I hauled her up against me and felt her soft, warm body touching mine, I went all carnal beast on her ass. As if I were a bear finding his honey pot, licking every last drop of the heavenly nectar. Sage’s nectar. Her determination and will call to my dominant nature.

Her compliance in that fleeting moment offered an inkling of hope. Until she gripped my lip into her mouth and bit down hard. I went nut-so. And we both loved it.

The stolen moments we’ve shared this week solidify my perception of our bond. Sage is my perfect match. My bottom lip throbs reminiscing the earlier confrontation with her. I’m smitten. The cocky princess plays me like a fiddle in the most extreme notes. For now, she chooses to ignore the bond we share. As strong as her iron will may be, her resolve is weakening. Each time I dominate, Sage’s fight grows hazy and tenuous. The spitfire stepping into the water to quench her flaming body.

My body transmits a whole other level of want and need. As detailed images flash across my mind, my imagination simulates a flushed Sage astride my aching member. Her body fitting perfectly adjacent to mine. I’m swallowed by the all-consuming tempestuous siren, rubbing her tightness against my erection while nestled completely in the safety of my embrace.

My cock grows stone hard and my muscles tense. I reach down to adjust my dick, providing some relief. Fucking woody is thumping, unyielding behind my zipper. The cognitive images I’ve conjured compel an uncomfortable shifting in the chair. I’m mentally challenged by the self-induced torture. Fuuucck me! The pain I was feeling earlier from the call has transferred to lust, a whole different kind of pain.

“Piss flaps. What the fuck is wrong with me?” I lecture myself. Dwelling on things I can’t change right now is getting in the way of my work. The mission. Even if the mission involves Sage. Losing my head during this time could attribute to someone getting severely hurt, or worst yet, killed. “Not on my watch,” I pledge a solemn oath of protection.

Time to get some answers. And right now, the only source to the madness is Sage.

After securing the monitors, concealing them once again, I get up to go find her. I open the door and step out, bumping right into a soft, pliable body, and inhale. The scents of cinnamon and vanilla tickle my nose. Sage. My arms instinctively wrap around her, holding her close. Locking down tight.

“Hold up. What’s the hurry, doc?”

“Oh, Lukas. I…umm…I was just…taking stock of the house, looking around.”

Her skin is flush and an expression of a little child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar resides on her lovely face.

“Well, what a coincidence. I was coming to find you. So, the tours over. It’s time to talk, sweetness. No more excuses,” I reprimand and fuse our bodies closer.

Caught in my unrelenting grasp, her squirming ceases when my hold tightens. As her face reddens, turning a darker shade, and my nerve endings tingle from the feverish hunger Sage infuses.

The deadpan insolence in her sullen expression conveys the princess is loosening her control. As the reflection of flames flickers in her heated eyes, an indication she’s gearing up for fight. My grip remains locked around her body and my thoracic muscles cinch just as a throaty chortle escapes me.

“I don’t think so, Lukas Rogers. You let go of me this instant. I don’t have to tell you anything, you big Hulkster!” Sage’s haughty tone echoes in the hallway as she struggles to yank loose of my clutches.

The corners of my mouth turn up, showcasing a calculated smirk. In one fluid motion, I hustle us both into the library. Clicking the lock of the heavy oak door, signaling to the outside world, ‘do not disturb, no intrusions allowed.’ Back the fuck off.

Confidence flows in my speech. “Not getting away this time, princess.”

She gasps as I flex, the frenzied desire to slide deep into her intoxicating heat spurring on my actions for more. I clutch her ass in my hands and her slender legs automatically wrap around my hips. When I place her back parallel against the unforgiving door, my appetite skyrockets.

She flounders briefly, but relents, giving in to the unrestrained wildness we both yearn. The total possession only I can deliver.

Wide-eyed with anticipation for my next move, her alluring gaze ignites the burning need coursing freely down my spine, directly connected to my engorged dick. I plunder her mouth with my tongue, blazing a trail to my favorite spot as I circle my hips, smothering her covered pussy with my armored shaft. I’m a starving man, thirsty for the life-giving water only Sage can provide.

A helpless moan resonates in the small space. I sip and slurp until she blooms in my arms. Until her spoken denial is nothing but a fleeting memory.

Once again, the game is on. Like Mario saves Princess Peach. I’ll dodge and jump every abyss or obstacle just to keep Sage in my arms forever.