Yes he will

Simon considered the two women Sigríður had named. From her description alone, Martha and Sofia carried the same sharp edges she once had. They were women who wielded their prejudices like weapons, quick to undermine and slow to build. He felt no guilt at the prospect of reshaping them. Nasty habits deserved correction and pulling them under his influence would serve that purpose well enough.

“Call them anyway,” he instructed Sigríður. “The two of them will drop everything they are doing and come here.”

“I will, and so will they,” Sigríður stated, fishing out her phone and dialling two numbers.

Sigríður held the phone to her ear, letting it ring for several long moments before the line connected. Her voice came out steady, low and professional. “It’s me, Sigríður.”

She paused, listening to the voice on the other end, then continued. “Can you meet me at 45 Oakwood Lane? It is important, and I want to speak with you about something.”

Another brief silence as she nodded faintly to herself. “Yes, I am fine.”

Her brow furrowed slightly at whatever response came next. “What, I am sounding serious? I am working.”

She shifted her weight, glancing toward Simon with those pale blue eyes before focusing back on the call. “Yes, I do have a job. I put in a good word to my employer for you, and well, that led to me contacting you for a meeting.”

A short pause, her lips curving in a faint, knowing smile. “What, you are at the gym? Do not bother showing off your physique, and I am certain it will impress.”

Sigríður ended the call with a decisive tap, slipping the phone back into her jacket pocket. Simon noted how she had artfully avoided mentioning he was a man, steering the conversation with careful omissions that kept her friends in the dark.

"They will be here soon" she stated.

Simon rose from the sofa, nodding once with a slow smile spreading across his face. “Excellent work, Sigríður,” he said, voice low and approving.

He crooked a finger toward her, beckoning her closer. Sigríður stepped forward without hesitation, her six-foot-two frame towering over his five-nine height. She leaned down to meet him, broad shoulders curving slightly as her pale blue eyes locked onto his.

Simon cupped her jaw with one hand, thumb brushing the slick remnants on her chin. He pulled her mouth to his in a firm, unyielding kiss. His lips parted hers slowly, tongue slipping inside to trace the heat of her inner cheeks, then coiling around hers in deliberate, teasing strokes. She tasted of salt and him, a mix that sent a fresh spark through his veins.

Immediate enthusiasm surged through Sigríður’s response. Massive hands settled on his waist, fingers digging into his sides as she angled her head for deeper access. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust, pushing back with hungry insistence, exploring his mouth as if starved for the contact.

Low moans rumbled from her throat, vibrating between them while her powerful body pressed closer, breasts heaving against his chest through the damp shirt. Saliva mingled between their lips with each slide and suck, her exhales growing shallow and erratic against his skin.

She nipped his lower lip gently, drawing a soft gasp from him before her tongue plunged back in, swirling around his in escalating circles that quickened their pulses and deepened the ache low between the two of them.

Simon broke the kiss with a slow, deliberate pull, his thumb lingering on her lower lip for a final brush. Sigríður’s eyes stayed half-lidded, breaths coming in soft, uneven puffs against his skin.

Outside, the low rumble of engines approached—two cars pulling up to the curb near the house, doors clicking open in quick succession.