Alexa’s tongue, rugged and dry from all moisture in her body shooting south, rolled around my dick. She started to work her way further down as Harley started to move a bit faster, pushing more of himself in with each thrust.
Alexa lifted off of my dick with a moan. “It feels so good!”
I stroked my dick as I took in the sight of Alexa being pleasured for the first time. Occasionally, she would weakly attempt to suck my dick again, but then the pleasure would overwhelm her again and she would stop. I didn’t expect the world from her during her first time. I was okay to finish myself off to allow her to focus on taking in every second.
“You feel so good,” Harley huffed, clinging tightly onto Alexa’s leg. “You’re so tight.”
“I’m coming!” Alexa whimpered.
I was stroking my own dick faster and faster, until I could feel myself starting to climax. “Ah, fuck.”
“Are you gonna come?” Alexa asked.
“You’re so sexy, I can’t hold it,” I said.
“Give it to me.” Alexa closed her mouth over my dick again and started to suck, suddenly some sort of expert.
“Shit,” I growled.
“Damn, that’s sexy,” Harley said. “You heard her. Give her what she wants.”
Between me stroking and Alexa sucking, I exploded. I released my seed into her mouth, my entire lower half tingling as Alexa drank up every drop.
“Fuck, that shit is gonna make me come,” Harley murmured. He humped into Alexa repeatedly, his own grunts and groans getting louder and shorter between. “Fuck!”
“Yes!” Alexa cried and started to shudder as Harley’s movements began to stutter, emptying himself. Alexa fought to catch her breath. “That was so good.”
Harley pulled out and collapsed on Alexa’s stomach while I fell back against the arm of the couch. I combed my fingers into her hair and scratched her head gently. “Yes. It was.”
16
Alexa
It was difficult convincing myself that I had a completely normal life after what I’d been through in the past few days.
To start, I’d slept with Harley and Huxley, effectively giving them my virginity; it was not the plan at all. In fact, all I’d been telling myself from the moment Harley undid his shirt to wrap it around me that night is that I would not sleep with them. I needed to maintain some semblance of professionalism, but something about the feelings that crossed from Harley to me as he kissed me knocked all of the wind from my sails. In an instant, I went from looking at two arrogant, self-centered businessmen, to looking at two guys who cared about me and just needed help. To think that they were being strongarmed into an arranged marriage, I couldn’t believe it. The four days that had passed since then didn’t really provide any clarity as to how I would help sort things out, I just had to hope that something would come to me as time went on.
Next, I’d packed up my things and was chauffeured in a limo to an airport hangar where the Foxxes private jet sat waiting with a giant, monogrammed ‘F’ on the side. I boarded the plane with all eight of the brothers and began a comfortable, luxurious flight to Venice, Italy where the patriarch of the family, Richard Foxx, lived with his wife Sienne. Harley and Huxley had informed me that this shady character, Dante, was already there waiting, and I had to imagine Malia was as well. I’d sounded so confident when I told Harley I’d protect him from her, when the truth was I didn’t exactly know how I’d do that. If Malia was in leagues with mafia men, my sharp tongue and quick wit weren’t going to get me very far, especially if they decided to get violent. There had to be a way to fix the situation that they’d found themselves in, and I was going to figure it out.
Now, I was standing in the middle of what could only be described as a small city. The white and gold Rolls Royce limousine that had picked us up from the airport, carried us between a pair of shimmering silver gates an hour later, onto Richard Foxx’s estate. His sons explained to me that the large marble building, with regal pillars in the front, and a giant glass dome on the top, was their father’s main house, and the eight other buildings that surrounded the property were the individual ‘homes’ that Richard had built and dedicated to each of his sons. As we pulled around the main house to the backyard, I saw a series of golf carts lined up in a row, each with a different set of initials on it. I could tell whose was whose, apart from the two that both said ‘H.F.’
“Mine is the one with the bronze letters,” Harley said, noticing me looking out with curiosity. “Huxley’s has silver.”