“That’s my plan, sweetness.” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. He had all intentions of drying her body, then her hair, but that flew out of the window as she plunged her tongue between his lips and began to feast on his mouth. The towels were gone. Their naked bodies locked together as he lowered her to the bed.
She moaned against his mouth as her back hit the comforter. He pulled his mouth from hers and licked along her neck, her shoulder, then down to her plump breasts.
“So sexy and beautiful. You’re gorgeous, Juliet. So fucking gorgeous,” he stated, hearing his own voice shake with need and the sincerity of his words. He adored her already. He would never let her go, and the realization struck him hard. He rested his cheek against her breasts and breathed in her scent, the softness of her skin, and the feminine, petite feel of her beneath his large body. Her fingers moved through his crew-cut hair, down his neck to his shoulders, and he felt her thrust her hips upward.
“Richie, please,” she begged of him. He licked her skin then lifted up to make a pathway down her belly. In a daze, he tasted every inch of her, feasted on her belly button, and used his tongue to tickle her skin as he played with her body jewelry.
She moaned and lifted her thighs higher, parting her pussy for him to feast upon.
He sta
red it at and at the red marks that he prayed would be gone by morning. The fucking piece of crap was a dead man.
He inhaled, calmed his breathing, and focused on his woman. Tomorrow was a different story.
He used his fingers to part her pussy lips, and she moaned as she slid back and forth ever so slightly. She was wet, her pussy glistened with her cream, and he needed to taste her.
He pressed a finger up into her pussy as he used his shoulders to open her thighs wider. She was tiny, and he wanted to encase her in his masculinity and destroy all her fears.
Swiping his tongue along her pussy lips, he removed his finger and delved into her femininity. With every stroke and plunge of his tongue he felt the tiny quakes and pushed her until she was shaking, pleading, wiggling under his ministrations. “Richie!” She screamed his name and grabbed hold of his shoulders. He rose up and watched her expression. It destroyed his ability to go slowly.
“For crying out loud, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.” He aligned his cock with her wet folds and plunged forward to the hilt.
He held her hips, eyes closed, everything tightened.
I’m in heaven.
* * * *
Juliet had never felt so aroused, so completely out of control in her life. She wanted every bit of Carl and Richie she could get. She couldn’t comprehend the connection she felt to them and the full, complete feeling she had when one of them was inside of her.
Richie’s eyes bore into hers. He held her gaze as he thrust his thick, hard cock into her channel. He was so big, so thick and hard she thought he could tear the walls of her pussy. But they were so incredibly sexy, and she was so utterly turned on that her body compensated. She was wet, needy, and hungry for more. Juliet wrapped her arms around his shoulders, absorbing Richie’s muscles and each ridge of pure stone under flesh.
“Yes, harder, oh God. I’m coming, Richie, I’m coming.”
He increased his thrusts and covered her mouth with his own until he exploded inside of her as she combusted around him. They released lips to breathe, and he pressed her deeper into the mattress as she kissed his neck then his shoulder as sedation began to set in.
Chapter 9
Alexa awoke, startled and aware immediately that Michael wasn’t in bed. She glanced to the side and saw Chad sleeping peacefully, the sheet half covering his delectable ass. The man had an exquisite body on him. She took a deep breath and thought about Juliet. She had heard from Michael and Chad that the video of the guy, Robert, bothering Juliet was intense. They described the fear they saw in Juliet’s eyes and the power this man had over her. It gave Alexa the chills. She picked up Chad’s shirt and tossed it on then eased her way out of bed. She could tell earlier that Michael was uneasy. He had made love to her with intensity and strength. She felt the difference in him and knew that bad thoughts were running through his head. He was more than likely reliving the day that Solandro Cruz attempted to abduct her and kill her.
As she made her way out of the bedroom and down the hallway, she noticed the office door they usually kept closed and locked was open. She slowly approached. She had been told not to enter this room, but in an emergency like a home invasion or an attack, she was to lock herself in here and press a certain button on the side of the wall. Both men were firm about the instructions.
She swallowed hard, listening carefully.
“What are you doing up?” Michael’s voice startled her, and she gasped and covered her mouth.
He was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“I was worried about you,” she whispered, looking up toward him and that stern expression that told her he was in serious mode.
He gave her a look that made her entire body hum with awareness of his masculinity and male dominance. He took her hand and led her into the room she was forbidden to enter. She was disappointed with what she saw. Computers, a wall filled with flat-screen television sets that held images of documents, mug shots of four men she didn’t recognize, and one of Robert Sinclair.
He appeared possessed.
Michael leaned against his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“What are you, doing up?” she whispered as his eyes looked her over. It made her pussy clench and her nipples harden. He had to see them through the shirt she wore.