f**k, my c**k is hard again already.
“Your knuckles are white.” Akim snorts. “Holy s**t. This woman is under your skin.”
“And you’re on my last nerve. Practice a little self-preservation and go help load up. I want this s**t over with.”
Akim grumbles something about me being a slave driver as he lopes off towards the truck.
“Are you running low on new recruits?” a voice asks.
I turn and see one of the Albanian ringleaders resting against a wooden crate. He’s the equivalent of a night manager. Not nearly important enough for me to know his name.
He jerks his chin to where Akim is now laughing with a group of Albanians. Leave it to him to make pals within seconds. “That’s your chef, ain’t it?”
“What the f**k do you care?”
Akim wasn’t just blowing smoke when he said he can be more tha
