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After Service: 3
publish date:
2026-08-29 15:28:45
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Mummies and their BadboysĀ Ā Ā Cabin Fever: 1
Power Out, Storm Inš§š«¦šHe had me against the rough pine wall of the cabin, one hand under my thigh, the other braced beside my head, fucking me with deep, steady strokes that made the old bedframe across the room seem irrelevant.āStill so tight,ā Cole muttered against my mouth, breath hot, the storm hammering the windows behind him. āCity woman lasts two days alone up here before sheās taking dick from the caretaker like she ordered it with the firewood.āI moaned, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. The power had been out for three hours. The only light came from the wood stove and a single battery lantern on the floor. My sweater was shoved up under my arms. My leggings were tangled around one ankle. Coleās flannel was open, the dense black ink across his chest and stomach slick with sweat even in the cold. Twenty-five. Hired by the rental company to check the properties after storms. Ex-con. Hands that knew how to fix a generator and how to hold a woman open.
Mummies and their BadboysĀ Ā Ā Restricted Stacks: 3
Nine A.M. and the Restricted Doorš¦š«¦The message sat on my phone like a second pulse.Unknown: Nice cleanup with Hale. Professional. But he wasnāt the only recipient. The files are already with someone who doesnāt need cameras to hurt you. Check your grant portal in the morning. The first clip goes live at 9 a.m. unless the co-curation agreement you rejected last year is signed and returned by then.I did not sleep. Roman stayed until nearly three, checking the fire-exit logs and the emergency-mic schedule one more time before I made him leave through the staff door so the cameras would show ordinary after-hours departure. After he was gone I sat in my office with the co-curation agreement open on the screen and the hard reality of the deadline sitting in the corner of the monitor.The foundation was called the Lang Heritage Trust. On paper, it was a model donor, climate-controlled storage gifts, digitization grants, polite letters. Behind the paper was Richard Lang, my late husbandā
Mummies and their BadboysĀ Ā Ā Restricted Stacks: 2
Loading Bay and Open Logsš¦š«¦The audio clip stayed on my phone through the entire grant meeting.I sat at the long polished table on the fifth floor while the board discussed climate-control upgrades and donor plaques, and all I could hear was my own muffled moan and Romanās voice telling me I was going to come before the night guard hit the floor. I deleted the message twice during the meeting. Both times I recovered it before the session ended. By the time I walked back down to Special Collections, my pulse was still wrong and the place between my legs still ached with the memory of the metal shelving against my back.Roman was already at the processing table when I entered the main reading room, sleeves rolled, dark hair falling forward as he checked condition reports on the new municipal boxes. He looked up once. The glance lasted less than a second. It was enough. Heat slid down my spine like a physical touch.Service, if you could call the quiet traffic of researchers service,
Mummies and their BadboysĀ Ā Ā Restricted Stacks: 1
After Hours in the Archivešš¦š§He had me pinned against the metal shelving in the restricted stacks, one hand over my mouth, the other shoving my skirt up around my hips.āQuiet,ā Roman muttered against my ear, driving into me with deep, controlled strokes that made the old rolling shelves creak. āNight guard does a sweep every forty minutes. Youāre going to come before he hits this floor.āI moaned into his palm, fingers scrabbling at the cool metal behind me. The only light came from the emergency strip along the floor and the exit sign at the end of the long aisle. My blouse was open. My bra was shoved up. Romanās dark uniform shirt, Archives Assistant, temporary clearance, was still half-buttoned, exposing the ink that ran across his collarbones. Twenty-five. Hired three months ago through a re-entry program. Forged documents in a previous life. Steady hands. Eyes that never looked away first.āHarder,ā I ordered, the word muffled against his skin.He gave it to me harder. The s
Mummies and their BadboysĀ Ā Ā Back Seat After the Gala: 3
Nine A.M. Deadlineš¦šš«¦The email arrived at 6:03 a.m.I sat at the kitchen island in Jaxās shirt from the night before, the hard drive and the disassembled camera still sitting where he had left them. The message from Margaret Keene was short, polite, and lethal.Helena, Iāve always admired how quickly you adapt. The preliminary sale agreement is attached. Sign and return by 9:00 a.m. and the files remain private. After that, the board, the investors, and Richard will receive everything. I do hope we can keep this civilized.Jax read it over my shoulder, coffee untouched. The cut on his cheekbone had darkened overnight. He looked calm in the way only someone who had already decided on violence could look calm.āWeāre not signing,ā he said.āIf we donāt, the footage goes out at nine.āāThen we make sure nine never comes.ā He turned the laptop toward himself and opened the hard drive he had taken from Hale. āHale was thorough. He kept the payment records from both clients. Richardās t
Mummies and their BadboysĀ Ā Ā Back Seat After the Gala: 2
Terrace Door and Garage Eyesš¦š«¦š§The message was still on my phone when the sun came up.Unknown: Partition up. Windows fogged. Excellent angle from the garage camera. Leave the penthouse terrace door unlocked tomorrow night. Or the footage goes to Richard Lang, the building board, and every investor who still thinks youāre the grieving widow who needs a careful driver.I stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass with a cup of coffee that had gone cold, staring at the city and the thin reflection of my own face. The terrace door stayed locked. Jax had texted once at 3:17 a.m.~Donāt open it until we talk~ and then gone silent the way he always did when he was handling something he didnāt want me to see yet.He badge-swiped into the private elevator at 11:50 the next night. Black trousers, black shirt, the same jacket he wore when he drove me. The second the doors opened he had me against the foyer wall, mouth hard, one hand already under the silk robe I had put on for him.āYou didnāt unlo
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