Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Goddamn, she was hot. Flirty shoulder-length hair. Creamy coffee skin. Thick dark eyelashes. A little on the thin side, but she had a great Latina ass.
He settled back on the couch. Then the piranhas closed in. He held his black bracelet in view, discouraging the men. But three women crept toward him with sex-induced oblivion written all over their faces.
One of them crawled on her knees from a nearby pile of men. Her Barbie-thin waist pinched in between an abundance of hips and tits. She was pretty enough, and as her hand slid up his leg and disappeared beneath his robe, he knew his concern about performance had been unwarranted.
He was as hard as a rock. It had nothing to do with the fingers curling around his length and everything to do with the woman who had just opened her eyes.
Lucia stared at him from twenty-feet away, her cheek pressed against the table and her focus unwavering. She didn’t blink, and neither did he. The cocky part of him exclaimed triumph, knowing he’d irrevocably seized her interest. He only needed to wait for her to come to him, and she would. They always did.
The other two women joined him on the couch. One on each side, they untied the knot on his robe, spreading it open.
He was prepared for this, had made the decision before coming here that he would allow touching and blowjobs from women. What straight man wouldn’t? But the only woman he would fuck tonight was the raven-haired beauty watching him from the table.
The man behind her set aside the cane and gripped his latex-wrapped erection, stepping closer to her to line himself up.
Tate’s jaw tightened, and he shot her a look she couldn’t misinterpret. No.
It was an irrational demand, considering the three women who were currently exploring every inch of his body with hands, lips, and teeth. He was tempted to stop the girl between his legs from rolling a condom down his shaft, but he decided to let this play out, to see what Lucia would do.
He captured her gaze as warm lips stretched around his girth. Ahhh, fuck, that felt good. His skin heated, and his balls tightened, and the ungodly pleasure only intensified in the prison of Lucia’s watchful stare.
He didn’t lift his hands, didn’t touch or look at the women grinding against him. He couldn’t ignore the intoxicating desire they spread through his body, didn’t want to. He felt like putty beneath their ministrations and melted into the couch.
His breathing accelerated, and his cock pulsed in the hot wet cavity of the woman’s mouth. But his eyes were narrowed on Lucia and her alone.
She reached behind her, gripped the burly man’s dick, and stroked it a few times before nudging him away. The man didn’t look too put off by it as he moved to the next girl in line for a beating.
Then she stood and turned to face him fully.
Smallish tits, tight pink nipples, sharp collarbones—her delicate physique rounded into curvy hips and slender legs. The dark trimmed patch of hair between her thighs created a shadow over the part of her he so desperately wanted to see, to taste, to pound until they were both exhausted and sated.
Maybe she was a coldblooded bitch in a kidnapping gang, but unless she had a blade clenched between those tight ass cheeks, she didn’t have the upper hand here.
He found her eyes and sharpened his in silent command. Come here.
Her chest hitched, an exquisite response. Then she slowly walked toward him.
CHAPTER 7
Sweet mother of God, he was beautiful. Easily the sexiest man in the room. Hell, in Lucia’s thirty years, she’d never seen a man that jaw-droppingly stunning.
And that was the most crucial part. She’d never seen him before. Not in this sex club. Not in Caracas.
She would’ve remembered the intensity in those crystal blue eyes, the way they honed in on her, tracked her every move, and took her breath away.
She floated toward him, propelled by curiosity, desire, stupidity. He could’ve been any number of deadly traps—an enemy of Tiago, a Fed for the United States, a kidnapper or serial killer.
Her insides might’ve been damaged, but her gut was trustworthy, and it told her he was none of those things. Besides, it wasn’t like she would leave with him or tell him anything incriminating. If he were simply here to fuck, she’d gladly take him for a ride.
While this was the only place she could have sex on her own terms, the pursuit of pleasure wasn’t the reason she came. She had a job to do, a mandate from Tiago to visit twice a month. He didn’t care who she fucked while she was here, as long as she cataloged the words exchanged around her. Some of Tiago’s competitors frequented the club, and their tongues tended to loosen after an orgasm or two.