Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Sadly, there isn’t time to focus on those words – or what I have to do to keep hearing them – due to the woman who was watching us working her way off the mattress.
“Where the hell are you going?” Garcia investigates, voice equal parts gravelly and unsteady.
“To go row one ashore, Mr. Attorney at Law,” Salay answers without missing a beat. “After watching that shit, I have to.”
His stumbling backwards in surprise grants me the space needed to grab her wrist and purr, “You’re not going anywhere.”
The quirking of her eyebrow is attached to a licentious smirk. “I’m not?”
“We’ll take care of you, baby. Right here.” I gently tug her towards us. “Right now.”
Chapter 8
Garcia
Things I did not have on my fucking bingo card for the year.
Being secondhand blackmailed by royalty to treasure hunt.
Being secondhand bullied by a powerful syndicate to suck my best friend’s cock.
And being secondhand seduced by the aforementioned best friend – who is responsible for the first two activities as well – into finger fucking an associate’s daughter while she needily rides his dick.
I would say I’m losing except that I feel like I’m winning.
Which may just be the tequila talking.
However, I get the feeling that if I were to consult a mock jury to gauge if I’m reaching for victory or facing defeat that they would turn over a victory verdict.
In record timing.
Salay throws her wide chin towards the ceiling and leans back onto her splayed palms.
Spreads her bent legs wider.
Grants me a better view of her swollen clit.
Fuckme, that shit is practically demanding I sign away my soul on it without bothering to read a single word of the contract.
“Touch her, Master,” Zero implores at the same time he digs his fingers deeper into her sides. “Please.”
I hate the way he begs.
No.
I hate that I don’t hate the way he begs.
That I love it.
That I love him.
That I love hearing him need me to do the things I’ve hated a little part of myself for wanting to do.
“We need to take care of her,” he airily pants, vision becoming more and more hooded. “Make her ours.”
And I hate that about her.
Love it.
There is no making Salay do anything.
Never has been.
Never will be.
I know it’s one of the many things that keeps her father – aka the man I’ll be betraying when I touch her – up at night regardless of their gag order to the media on a high-profile case level of communication.
Resistance continues to run rampant despite my dick steadily swelling for another round.
“Look at me being a good boy,” Zero relentlessly baits between erratic bucks. “Look at me making her moan…”
Salay releases the sound alongside a tiny rock forward, eager for more pressure in the one place she’s not receiving it.
“Reward me,” he whines, agape mouth anxious to be mounted. “Reward me for being so good.”
If anything other than instinct were allowed in this moment, there’d be hesitation.
Reluctance.
A fraction of deliberation regarding my lips claiming his.
But there isn’t.
And I’m grateful.
And I’m even more fucking grateful over how his tongue instantly submits to mine the second they touch.
How swiftly it becomes subservient.
Allows me to lead the pacing.
The pressure.
The roughness.
And Dios Mio, do I let it get rough.
Explore every curve of the small area.
Every ridge of his teeth.
Allow them to sloppily gnash.
His lip to be bitten before breaking away to hear him cry out again.
“Your turn, Master…” escapes in a breathless, broken moan.
A harsher hit lifts her higher.
Presents her pussy further.
Practically on a pedestal.
“Make her moan now.”
My jaw lowers for a muddled rebuttal.
“Make her your slutty little princess.”
Which word breaks me is unknown.
Or is irrelevant.
Or both.
I would argue in an open court that it’s both.
What does matter is the glob of spit that lands on her tiny nub.
How her breath hitches.
How her hips buck, wordlessly pleading for me to repeat the action.
Whirl the shit around.
“Fuck, Master,” Zero huskily murmurs, his skull thumping into the headboard. “She really liked that.”
So, I do it again.
Spit in the exact same spot.
Watch her torso turn.
Twitch.
Constrict.
Scribble to memory the way her stomach muscles flex on airy huffs.
“Tell him you like it,” my best friend commands, hands yanking her down his cock, forcing her clit to bump into his base, sloppily smearing my saliva across both of them like warpaint. “Tell him you like being our slutty little princess.”
Resentment noticeably battles her bliss.
Fights to be displayed rather than delight.
She’s not accustomed to surrendering.
To anything or anyone.
And from the ceaseless crinkling of her brow, I would say it’s safe to assume she’s even less acquainted with enjoying it.
“I…” manages to leave Salay yet nothing else.
At least not until I brush my finger against her clit.
“Fu…” is attached to her knees scrapping harder against the mattress.
“You want more?” I tease in tandem with leaning closer. “Beg.”
Defiance doesn’t hesitate to invade her vision as she cuts her glare over to me; however, snatching a fistful of her currently curly hair while delivering another stroke instantly leads to her panting, “Pleaseeee…”