“Jesus, Matteo, look at this.” Valentine growls, and then Matteo’s muffled groan gets drown out by the sound of him accelerating, hard. I hang up on them, not wanting to waste the time we have left before the rest of our pack gets home.
Except, first, I need a couple more photos. Spreading her wider, I snap a series of images, some with my tongue, others with three fingers buried deep. I probably should be recording the noises she makes, because that’s almost as good as the view.
“Dante,” she whimpers, her hips swaying in her need now. The perfume leaking from her is so strong, it’s like standing in the middle of the perfume counters at Macy’s. God, it has my cock aching, despite the medication she’s on. I want to see her wrap her lips around my cock, but first, I want to drink her come.
I pressrecordbefore placing the phone under her, the angle just right so each time I lick her out, I can see her pretty cunt glossing my lips. Curling my tongue around her clit, I sink two fingers inside her body, driving them in deep before scissoring them out. She’s already so close, since I’ve been winding her up here for so long.
Spreading her ass cheeks wider, I bury my face in her pussy. It’s a gorgeous mess, and her body collapses forward, her knees dropping as she chases the final peak of her release. Of course, I find it for her, and I finger fuck her through her climax and straight onto her next one. The way she squeezes around me has my plans of feeding her my cock flying out the window.
“See what you do to me?” I grunt, fighting out of my training shorts, nearly snapping my cock in half when it gets caught.
She whimpers again, louder as I drag my cock over her pussy, rubbing all my pre-come over her pussy and her asshole, scent marking what is mine. I spit on her hole and use my thumb to tease her as I slam my cock in so hard, she cries out. But my wife is crying out for more; the desperation and wind up of our foreplay has her demanding my knot.
I drag my dick all the way out, ignoring her noisy pleas, then I drive myself back in. My ears turn off to her desperation, and I read her body instead. Because in the same way I know she’salready falling for us, I also know how much more pleasure she can take before she really does ache.
I grip her hips and we fuck nice and hard, smacking the headboard against the wall until the vixen plays dirty and somehow dips her hips lower, and I end up completely buried inside her.
There’s this moment of pure, inexplicable pleasure that robs me of spatial awareness, but it’s not a one-sided thing; I feel her right there with me. I feel the way she lets go, and by god, I definitely hear it when she cries out.
The noises, the moment, the way she makes me come has me roaring like a fucking jungle animal, emptying myself like a fucking brute in the very next breath.
“Best make-up sex ever.” She laughs, and I slap her ass, just ’cause I like hearing that gasp she makes.
“Not make-up sex…we weren’t fighting. Can’t wait till we do, though,” I say, giving her a couple of extra pumps of my hips, sinking deeper inside again.
To make a point.
And because she feels so fucking tight.
The club is busy. Bucks Fizz usually is.
Set up as an exclusive titty bar, the notoriety of potentially rubbing shoulders, or sucking the dick, of the infamous in our world has our floor packed. And since we like to make lots of money, we have a very gender balanced show, attracting not just men, but women too, along with all the colors of our designation flag.
We are inclusive in our exclusivity, which is not just our marketing by-line but our philosophy. Anyone being ajudgmental prick is thrown out the back, taught some fucking respect against the dumpster, and never allowed to set foot in our club again.
Vitale fucking hates everything about Bucks Fizz. Almost as hard as we love it.
“How’s the new bar manager?” I ask the Beta who manages this business for us.
Like all our other enterprises, we generally hire people who we’ve grown up with or whose loyalty is uncompromising. Benedict, or Benny, grew up in Italy, but he fucked up spectacularly by screwing, and impregnating, his new stepmother, though neither of them were aware at the time of who was who. And she was apparently not his, according to Vitale.
Either way, the two of them ended up here, alive, with a burning hate for my grandfather, and clearly, we welcomed them both into our protective inner circle.
Relationships and connections in our world are so complex and complicated, but that has been our way since the first Family, and nothing was ever going to change or simplify it.
You seriously had to think fast—and trust. Speaking of trust, while Benny talks about turnovers and upcoming bookings, I look for my wife, finding her in a dark corner with Matteo.
From where they’re standing, it’s impossible for anyone on the dance floor, or even at the bar, to properly see what’s going on, but from my spot on the stairs, plus the way Layne keeps dropping her head, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out my wife is getting railed.
I look around for Valentine and find him sitting down at the bar, positioned so he can watch her. His eyes catch mine, and in the next moment, he’s leaping off his chair and I’m cutting Benny off mid-update. My brother and I are on a collision course in our rush to see who can get up the stairs first.
Valentine chuckles when he gets his foot on the step before I do, but we’re barely halfway up when our goddess appears.
“Come on, Alpha.” She looks at me, then Val. “You promised me dancing.” She laughs, her cheeks are rosy, she reeks of pleasure, and her cocktail glass is empty.
And, goddamn, her happiness is deeper than the buzz from the alcohol and a post-sex haze. She’s more on board with the concept of forever with our pack. Now our actions won’t be about making her stay; they’ll be about killing any cunt who tries to take her away from us.
34
