Fuck. I want him. I always want him. It's all I think about. Can I ever have enough him? Will I ever get close enough to him?
"What else?" Wolfie asked.
"The pixies are revolting."
Wolfie gave him a look of surprise. "Well, I know they are darling, but they do serve a purpose." He sipped his coffee. "Hmmm, hazelnut."
"No, my love. I mean, the pixies are on strike."
Wolfie stared at him. "What do you mean on strike?"
"Exactly what I said. They don't want to work."
"What do they want?"
"They say the maple syrup is cheap garbage that they want pure Canadian and nothing less."
"I thought that's what we'd given them," Wolfie muttered, looking genuinely perplexed.
"Actually, I checked the label on the container Virginia sent us and it's imitation stuff from Indiana."
"Imitation!"
Ambrosio sighed. There went his morning fuck. "It was a sticker plastered over the original label."
"I should have checked," Wolfie fretted. "My God. Imitation maple syrup is pure sugar. It's like giving crack to a two-year-old. They'll be bouncing off the walls and beating each other up."
"It's my fault," Ambrosio said, feeling wretched.
Wolfie frowned. "Nothing is ever your fault. None of us could survive without you." He rose from the chair, pushing Ambrosio off his lap. He stared at the table, whipped away the plate and cups, letting them clatter into the sink and picked up Ambrosio, placing him gently on the edge of their antique wooden bench.
"What are you doing? We've got pixie trouble!" Ambrosio gasped.
"I told you, sex is never off the table in this house," Wolfie said, grabbing Ambrosio's feet and pushing them up toward Ambrosio's knees.
Ambrosio fell back against the table. Nothing else mattered now except the sound and the feeling of Wolfie lapping at his waiting, wanting asshole.
Chapter 4
Ambrosio lost count of how many times Wolfie made him come just by licking his ass and cock. Wolfie had fire in his eyes as they showered and readied for work.
"There's something else I want you to wear," he told Ambrosio after selecting a pair of tight, black leather pants for him.
He opened his messenger bag and produced a black velvet box.
Ambrosio knew something naughty and delightful awaited him. "When did you have time to find this?"
"I made time. Open it." Wolfie looked so happy at his secret accomplishment that Ambrosio ran his fingers along the soft velvet before opening the box.
He stared inside at the two pieces of jewelry and almost fainted. Tiny, twisted silver rings surrounded by a star pattern worked in twenty-four carat gold.
Nipple shields.
Man, I've been coveting these for months.
"Wolfie," he said, finding it hard to shield his emotions, "You shouldn't have."
"But of course I should have. Your pleasure is mine."
Ambrosio touched the beautiful shields. Wolfie had brought such beauty into his life, such light.
"You're all the stars and rainbows. You're more than I ever dared hope I would have," Wolfie said, his voice filled with emotion.
"Oh, my God, I feel the same way about you. You're all that matters. You're all I care about."
Wolfie's mouth smothered his in a burning kiss that touched his very soul. Too soon, it was always too soon, Wolfie took his mouth from his and bent his face to Ambrosio's chest. He sucked each nipple until the nubs protruded and were very tender to Wolfie's tongue-touch.
When Wolfie slipped the shield over each nipple, Ambrosio knew he would be in for a long day of extended sexual desire. Endless chafing against his T-shirt. He would undoubtedly have to wait until they were alone again for his internal flames to be extinguished.
So be it.
He'd find a way to drive his husband out of his mind the minute they came home.
Heh-heh-heh.
* * * *
They drove quickly to LAX, their wedding rings safe in Ambrosio's back pocket. As mutually obsessed as they were, they never fooled around once in work mode. It was the safest thing to do in case they ever slipped up in front of the crew. They had already called the other three and asked them to come an hour later.
Wolfie called Virginia, who told him that a security guard had prevented the break-in at the Sotheby's warehouse.
He put her on speakerphone so Ambrosio could hear her.
"Zara wants everything installed at a warehouse in Hollywood. It's an old carpet factory with a huge showroom on the ground floor and a hip music studio next door. She got the building cheap and it's in a hot part of town."
"What part?" he asked her.
"Hollywood and Cherokee."
"Yeah. That's hot all right. If you're a homeless person."
Ambrosio had to stop himself from laughing as Wolfie went on. "We can't store everything in an empty carpet factory. There might be mold. And dust mites. The place needs to be cleaned and properly prepared before we store any valuable, fragile fabrics in there. Besides, we have no security protection for the collection."
"I hadn't thought about those things," Virginia said.
Wolfie seemed furious now, but didn't convey his anger as he responded. "There is a wonderful warehouse facility with showroom features just off Sunset and Cahuenga." Ambrosio could tell Wolfie struggled to maintain his rage.
"Let me send you a link for it and you and Zara can get online and make an informed decision."
"Okay," Virginia said, sounding subdued. "Zara really likes this carpet factory. She says Marilyn Monroe once did a porn shoot there." She paused. "Or maybe it was the Black Dahlia. I forget which."
Wolfie glanced at Ambrosio. They both had to fight their instinct to laugh.
"Oh, and Virginia, please find me a container of genuine Canadian maple syrup. Today, please. And no more imitation stuff."
"Okay," she said. "Sorry about that, Mr. Wolfe. Geez...Zara said you wouldn't even notice."
Ambrosio could hear the cringe in her voice. He almost felt sorry for her except that he knew what havoc those pixies would cause if they didn't have their demands met.
They could hear the fighting and shouting from outside the warehouse doors as they pulled up.
"What the--" Wolfie said and made a
