God, God, God.
Was there ever a more wondrous feeling than being filled by a man you loved, having him as close as he could possibly get?
Liz didn’t think so.
Zeke was so blessed, his rigid sex strained against the confines of Liz’s sheath, forcing her body to accommodate his.
She did so gladly, welcoming the incomparable pressure. Working her fingers through his damp hair, she angled her mouth and captured his. He thrust his tongue inside, taking immediate command of the act, his previous gentleness gone.
Good. Liz didn’t want gentle. She needed him to fuck her raw.
With his hands cupping her buttocks, Zeke coaxed her to pull up.
Liz obeyed. She fell into an easy rhythm—up and down, up and down—her cunt nearly releasing his cock only to slide over it once more.
Zeke broke their kiss. His head lolled back on his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbed with his hard swallow. Liz kissed, then licked the prominent bump.
Laughter rumbled from him.
“Feel good?” she breathed.
“Not as good as this.” He brought one hand from her ass and stroked her clit.
Liz moaned, long and loud, at the pleasure rolling through her. It was an effort, but she forced herself to concentrate on Zeke, increasing the pace of her pumping, coaxing him toward climax.
The water splashed loudly from tumbling over the rocks, the tub’s whirlpool effect and the movement of their bodies. The noise couldn’t compete with the brazen sounds they made. Coarse. Wanton.
Liz came on a prolonged moan. Zeke followed, his bellow filling the room.
Together, they came down, trembling with the aftereffects, clinging to each other as though they feared the best was over. That this couldn’t last.
Trinidad reclined on the sofa, her right leg bent at the knee. She’d stretched out her left leg, the tip of her spike heel digging into the carpeting. The position exposed her cunt fully, while the office’s bright lights illuminated the faint moisture that glistened on her cleft. A shameless invitation for a man to take and use her.
She seemed not to notice or care about her indecent pose, or that Carreon had unceremoniously pushed her off his lap and left the sofa at Ernez’s worried expression. His comment that Carreon needed to take the call.
Roberto was still on the phone now, waiting for his boss’s response to a report that defied reality and belief.
Carreon tried to concentrate on what he’d heard, but couldn’t. He kept picturing Roberto using his pliers and other tools on Zeke, making him bleed, pulling one agonized scream after the other from him. In the past, those images might have calmed Carreon. Not tonight. His pulse pounded and his belly rolled. Rarely had he felt as shaken. It took all of his will to remain calm.
“How long will it take you to get the information to me?” he asked Roberto.
“Victor’s downloading it now.”
“Send it to—” Carreon stopped, not knowing the club’s private email address. He turned to Ernez to ask for it.
The young man’s face was dark with fury at the wound on his hand. However, animal lust flared in his eyes as he regarded Trinidad’s slit. Carreon considered what their mating would be like…an enraged and emasculated male taking a she-devil who was intent on delivering more pain, her long black nails scoring his back, drawing blood, while he hammered his cock into her hot, snug cunt. With those images flooding his mind, Carreon snapped his fingers to get Ernez’s attention.
Instantly, the young man turned to him. Carreon handed Ernez the phone. “Give Roberto the club’s email address and download what he’s sending. I want to see it.”
He needed proof of what Roberto had claimed. It couldn’t be true. Wasn’t possible.
Dutifully, Ernez returned to his desk and delivered the address. Trinidad studied his ass as she ran her forefinger over her clit. Carreon saw amusement, rather than desire, on her lovely face. Her expression turned to quick indifference as Carreon curled his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand from her cunt.
If he’d annoyed her by doing so, she didn’t show it. Wise move.
“There’s a mirror in the john.” He inclined his head in the direction of the bathroom. “Bring it to me.”
She glanced that way, but didn’t move.
To hurry her along, Carreon bent her hand backward. Not enough to cause true pain. Merely the right amount to get her attention and acquiescence.
She stood.
He tightened his grip and brought her wrist to his mouth, kissing the inside of it. Gently, he murmured, “Don’t make me wait.”
Trinidad’s eyes glittered with the danger in his words. She gave him a smile, then strolled toward the bath as if she had all the time in the world, her behavior reminiscent of a rebellious teen. A “fuck you” in each unhurried step.
Carreon doubted pain would guarantee her obedience, at least in the long run. She’d promise anything to stop the hurt, and once it was through would revert to her true nature. Threatening her family wouldn’t do the trick either. She clearly had no use for or sentimentality toward them. The more Carreon pushed, the more recalcitrant she’d become. As stubborn as Liz had grown when she’d finally realized it hadn’t been love he’d felt for her, but need of her gift, her submission to all he demanded.
Again, Carreon recalled what Roberto had told him. The thought brought another rush of worry, along with renewed rage. A growl of frustration escaped his throat.
“The download’s slow,” Ernez said, anxiety evident in his tone. “The file’s huge. It’s going to take several minutes.”
Carreon didn’t comment.
“I’ll try to hurry it along,” Ernez promised.
Trinidad exited the bath. She held the mirror—a circular model in its own gold stand—between her thumb and forefinger, letting it swing with the movement of her arm.
She walked with the grace of a princess or a ballerina, her sweet breasts trembling with each step. Just shy of him, she stopped. However, she didn’t offer the mirror.
“Give it to me,” he ordered.
She extended her hand just a bit, still making him reach for it.
Carreon moved close and ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh. Her lips parted on her lewd moan, telling him she clearly enjoyed his touch. Slipping his hand between her legs, Carreon ignored her cleft and concentrated on her anus instead. His fingertips circled the tight ring. Trinidad’s mouth fell open in appreciation.
“The mirror,” he said as he withdrew his hand, giving her a choice. If she obeyed him, she’d know pleasure. If she didn’t…
It would be a pity to mar one inch of her delicious flesh. However, a man had to do what was necessary to insure deference, no matter how fleeting.
As though she understood his unspoken intent, Trinidad handed him the mirror.
Carreon turned it so he could see his ear. The ice he’d held to it earlier had washed away most of the blood, while her healing touch had mended the wound with the skill of a drunken surgeon. His earlobe was misshapen, the skin puffy and red from the injury and the ice. Perhaps the poor result was because she hadn’t had enough time or opportunity to perfect her gift. If she used it repeatedly, as he’d forced Liz and her father to do, that might strengthen what she had.
It was Carreon’s only choice at the moment, his only hope. What Roberto claimed to have seen couldn’t possibly be—
“It’s ready,” Ernez said, interrupting Carreon’s thoughts.
He pushed the mirror at Trinidad and left her without a glance. Seated at the desk, Carreon stared at the video. The still shot showed the hall outside his stronghold’s safe room, just beyond the metal detector and full body scanner so no one ever entered his hiding place armed. After he’d had his father assassinated, Carreon had made certain no one would catch him off guard. Neither his enemies, nor his own men.