•TYRA KÄUTNER•

The election takes place two days later. Tom is all patched up. He needed stitches for the couples of slashes, but now you'd hardly know he'd been in a fight.

I, on the other hand, have to wear a giant cast, since apparently that idiot bouncer broke two of my fingers when he slammed the trunk on my hand. Now I'm extra glad I shot him.

It's making it damn hard to type anything on my phone, which is annoying, because I have a very important project in the works, and I don't want it getting all fucked up because I can't check my email.

"Ich kann Ihnen dabei helfen," Tom says, reaching out to take my phone.

"Sie können diktieren, und ich tippe."

"Nein!" I say, snatching it back. "Ich brauche keine Hilfe."

"Was machen Sie da?" he asks suspiciously.

"Das geht Sie nichts an," I tell him, tucking the phone back in my pocket.

He frowns. He's already on edge because we're supposed to be getting the election results any minute. I really shouldn't bait him.

His phone rings, and he almost jumps out of his skin.

He holds it to his ear, listening.

I can visibly watch as the relief pours over him.

He hangs up the call, grinning.

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch!" I shout.

He picks me up and spins me around, until I lock my legs around his waist and kiss him for a very long time.

"Sie haben es geschafft," I say.

He sets me down again, his dark brown eyes boring into mine.

"Wir haben es gemeinsam geschafft, Tyra. Das haben wir wirklich. Du hast mir die zusätzliche Unterstützung verschafft, die ich von den Deutschen brauchte. Du hast mir geholfen, die richtigen Leute zu überzeugen. Ich möchte, dass du mit mir arbeitest. Jeden Tag. Sobald du deinen Abschluss hast, meine ich."

My heart gives a funny little flutter.

That's crazy. A couple of weeks ago, I hardly thought Tom and I could share a room without murdering each other.

"Mitbewohner und Arbeitskollegen?" I say teasingly.

"Warum nicht?" Tom frowns. "Hättest du mich satt?"

"Nein. Sie sind nicht gerade der gesprächige Typ," I laugh. "Eigentlich sind Sie ziemlich ... beruhigend, wenn man in Ihrer Nähe ist."

It's true. When Tom is not driving me into a rage, he steadies me. I feel safe around him.

"Aber was machen wir mit Zajac?" I ask him.

Ryder and Nash made off with about ¥500K in cash from the Butcher's casino, as well as smashing up a bunch of his machines.

We haven't heard anything since. Which seems like it must be the calm before the storm.

"Nun, Nash meint, wir sollten..."

At that moment we're interrupted by Jörg and Simone, who have heard the news. They burst into Tom's office, wanting to celebrate with champagne.

I try to sidle out to leave them alone together, but Imogen puts her arm around my shoulders and pulls me back in again.

"Willst du nicht etwas trinken?" she asks me. "Wir feiern auch dich, Tyra. Die Leistung eines Mannes gehört der Frau und umgekehrt."

Simone has apparently forgiven me for murdering her cabinet. In fact, she insists that we all go to dinner to celebrate, including Nessa, Natasha and Bill. I notice that our reservation at Everest is already set. I have to smile at Simone's confidence in her son.

"Sie wollen also, dass ich mich ändere," I say to Tom.

He looks down at my t - shirt and shorts.

"Ich weiß es nicht," he says, giving me a little half-smile. "Du siehst sowieso schon ziemlich süß aus."

I raise my eyebrows in astonishment.

"Wer sind Sie, und was haben Sie mit meinem Mann gemacht?" Tom shrugs.

"Du siehst in allem schön aus. Ich werde dich deswegen nicht herumkommandieren."

I give him a little sideways smirk and whisper up to him, "Aber was, wenn ich es irgendwie mag, wenn du mich herumkommandierst?" He grabs my arm and growls into my ear.

"Dann zieh das kleine blaue Sommerkleid an, das ich für dich gekauft habe, und sieh zu, wie ich dich belohne."

As soon as he gets that controlling tone, the tiny hairs rise up on my arms, and I get that warm, throbbing, nervous feeling.

Part of me wants to disobey him.

The other part wants to see what will happen if I play along.

So I go into the walk - in closet, find the requested dress, and put it on.

Then I brush my hair, pin it back with a clip, put on some earrings shaped like little white daisies, and slip my feet into sandals.

By the time I finish, Tom is waiting downstairs for me. I descend the staircase like a prom queen, trailing my hand along the railing and trying to look graceful.

Tom grins up at me, looking extremely handsome himself in his black shirt and grey plaid suit jacket.

He's shaved his face clean, making his jaw look sharper than ever. Now I can see the flawless shape of his lips, and the way they smile just a little, even when his eyes look stern.

"Wo sind die anderen?" I ask him.

"Ich habe ihnen gesagt, sie sollen mit dem anderen Auto vorfahren. Bill fährt uns." He takes my hand, pulling me close.

"Hoffentlich nichts unter dem Rock," he murmurs.

"Nein, natürlich nicht," I say primly.

Bill is already waiting by the town car, holding the door. He's been marginally nicer to me since robbing the casino with my brothers and cousin.

I don't know if it's because he likes my family or because he's scared of them. But he hasn't made a single rude comment since. And I haven't had to shoot him at all.

Tom and I slide into the backseat. I can see that Tom already put the partition up. He turns on the music too, louder than usual.

"Wie weit ist das Restaurant entfernt?" I ask him.

"Ich denke, ich werde gerade genug Zeit haben," he says.

Not bothering with his seatbelt, he gets down in front of me and puts his head under the skirt of my sundress. I gasp and turn the music up a little more. Then I lay back against the seat.

Tom is licking my pussy with long, slow motions. His mouth feels incredibly soft with the fresh shave. His lips caress my skin, and his tongue slides between my folds, warm and wet and sensual.

I love fucking him in the car. I never knew why people had chauffeurs, and now I realize it's one hundred percent for this reason — so you can turn a boring commute into the best part of your day. Someday, when we all have robot cars, you'll look into the other windows and that's what you'll see everybody banging.

I'm starting to get a Pavlovian response to the smell of leather conditioner. Suddenly it's the most erotic scent in the world.

I love the feel of the seats against my bare skin, and the way the motion of the car rocks me and presses me all the tighter against Tom's tongue.

He's so fucking good at this. He looks so cold and stiff, but actually his hands and mouth are like warm butter. He can tell exactly how hard to lick and suck, so it's maximum stimulation without tipping over into too much.

I'm rocking my hips, riding his face, trying hard not to make any noise.

I may have given up my vendetta with Bill, but that doesn't mean I want to put on a show for him.

But it's hard to stay quiet when Tom slips his fingers inside of me. He gently twists and slides them in motion with his tongue, finding all the most sensitive spots.

I squeeze around his fingers, my breath quickening and my skin tingling. Warmth spirals outward from my belly. My pussy is soaking wet and extra sensitive.

With his other hand, Tom reaches up and pulls down the front of my dress. Freeing one of my breasts, he caresses it with his hand, gently pinching and tugging on the nipple.

He gradually increases the pressure, until he's roughly squeezing my tits, pinching and pulling at the nipples. For some reason, this feels fucking fantastic.

Maybe it's because I'm already so aroused, or maybe it's just because I like when Tom is a little rough in bed.

There's so much tension between us that it gives relief to the aggression. It gives us somewhere to channel it.

I've never had a relationship quite like this. There were always people I hated, and people I liked, and those two categories were polar opposites.

My boyfriends always fell in the "sweet and fun" category, not the "drive me fucking insane" one.

Tom is becoming a little bit of both. And somehow that makes my attraction to him ten times stronger. He captures all my emotions: resentment.

Jealousy.

Rebelliousness.

Desire.

Temper.

Curiosity.

Playfulness.

And even respect.

He bundles it all together in one package.

The result is absolutely irresistible. It captivates me entirely.

Tom keeps licking my pussy, fingering me, and squeezing my tits all at the same time. Stimulating every part of me until I'm squirming and grinding against him, ready to explode.

I can feel the car turning, starting to slow.

It's now or never.

I let go, cumming over and over again on the flat of Tom's tongue. The rolling waves of pleasure crash over me. I have to bite my lip and squeeze my eyes tight shut to keep from screaming.

Then the car stops, and Tom sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Gerade noch rechtzeitig," he says.

I'm panting like I ran a mile.

"Dein Haar ist verrückt," I tell him.

"Ja, ja, Sie haben gute Arbeit geleistet," I say, laughing.

"Ich weiß," he says.

He takes my hand to help me out of the car.

We take the elevator up to the fortieth floor of the Stock Exchange Building. I haven't actually been up here before, though I know the restaurant is supposed to be nice.

The view really is stunning. Simone has, naturally, snagged the best table in the place. We have a panoramic view of the city laid out below, and part of the lake as well.

The others are already seated. Nessa's wearing a flowered romper, her dark black hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She's got more freckles now that it's getting hotter.

Natasha has her hair down - unusual for her. She really does have the most stunning hair I've ever seen. Thick, wavy, deeply hued.

I think she dislikes how vivid it looks. How much attention it steals.

Tonight, however, she's almost in as good a mood as everybody else.

We're all talking and laughing, ordering decadent things off the menu. I look around at Tom's family and for the first time I don't feel like a stranger.

I feel comfortable at the table. Happy to be there, even.

We're talking about the longest book we ever read.

"Ich habe Krieg und Frieden gelesen!" I tell them. "Ich bin der einzige Mensch, der das je getan hat, glaube ich. Ich saß in dieser Hütte fest und es war das einzige Buch im Regal."

"Ich glaube, The Stand könnte mein längster sein," Natasha muses. "Ungekürzte Fassung, natürlich."

"Sie lesen Stephen King?" I ask her in astonishment.

"Ich habe sie alle gelesen," Natasha says. "Bis zum letzten Mal, denn ich hatte keine Zeit"

"Sie hatte solche Angst vor ihm," Tom interrupts. "Sie hat immer noch Angst vor Clowns."

"Ich habe keine Angst vor ihnen," Natasha says loftily. "Ich mag sie einfach nicht. Da gibt es einen Unterschied..."

"Möchten Sie mehr Wein?" Tom asks me, holding up the bottle.

I nod, and he refills my glass.

When he sets the bottle down, he drops his hand down to my lap. He finds my hand-the one not in a cast — and intertwines his fingers with mine.

His hand is warm and strong, squeezing just the right amount. His thumb gently strokes mine, then goes still again.

Tom and I have fucked plenty of times. We kiss, too. But this is the first time we've ever held hands. He's not doing it for show because we're at an event. And he's not grabbing me to pull me close. He's holding my hand because he wants to.

Our relationship has proceeded in such a funny, backward way.

Marriage first. Then sex. Then getting to know each other. And finally ... whatever this is. A feeling of warmth and desire and affection and connection spreads through my chest, a feeling that burns and grows stronger by the moment, especially when I glance over at the man sitting next to me.

I can't believe it.

I think I'm falling in love.

[authors note - cuties eek!]