“I love the way you love to pleasure me,” I told him before I could second guess. He grinned wider, licking his lips like he was savoring a gourmet treat.
“I love eating your pussy. But I love being inside of it even more, angel. Want me to come inside?”
In response, I shimmied further down the mattress, spreading my legs as if to invite him inside.
When Devin’s gorgeous, thick length was free, I only had a second to admire it, to grab it in my hand and wish for a moment to take it in my mouth again, before he plunged it into me.
It slid home so well, slick and easy despite his girth, because I was so damn needy for him. Then I was whimpering, moaning, crying out in turn as Devin fucked me.
I never thought I’d join the mile high club, but here I was.
“Love this fucking tight pussy,” he half-gasped in my ear. “God, you’re perfect, Frankie. I could stay here forever. Just buried inside you until I die.”
“Do it. Stay forever. Stay inside me.”Come inside me,I didn’t say, but Devin seemed to hear it regardless.
“You want to feel it when I come, angel?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Give it to me.”
He grinned wickedly, kissed me hard, and said, “You first.”
In another few hard, skillful thrusts, he kept his promise. I came hard, calling out his name as the intense waves of pure agonizing bliss shook me from head to toe, squeezing his perfect cock further into me.
The spasms brought upon his own climax, and Devin half-roared as he came, filling me with his hot seed and the indescribable feeling of him pulsing, kicking against my still-fluttering inner walls.
I fell asleep with Devin still inside me, his mouth on my neck. And when I woke up, we were landing in Paris.
19
JONATHAN
Paris was calling, maybe, but I had other responsibilities to tend to. I was still the Butera heir, even after jetting across the sea.
I should have been reaching out to European contacts, seeing when I could get away for a quick meeting in Milan, chasing down the source of the threat that had scared us out of town.
I should have been acting like a man who gave a damn about his family, his role in the hierarchical structure of the Butera group. And I did. I did care. Just…not the way I used to before that goddamn auction.
The balcony of our hotel suite overlooked Paris in that impossible way postcards could only mimic.
Gray-blue rooftops, the Eiffel Tower cutting into the foggy morning sky, its dark outline barely visible but unmistakable all at once.
A breeze that smelled like fresh bread and a recent rain, and sure there were some unpleasant notes of big-city filth, too, but I was used to that back home.
The location made concentrating on emails for my day job feel like trying to perform surgery during a fireworks show.
But the real distraction was inside. Just on the other side of the fittingly French doors, presumably still sleeping in the fluffy hotel bed.
Frankie and Devin were both somewhere in the suite behind me, and I’d exiled myself outside so I could pretend to be the responsible one.
High-level executive, loyal son of the Butera crime family, dependable strategist.
The man who was supposed to keep them safe. The man who couldn’t afford to slip, even in the most romantic city in the world. I’d visited Paris before, of course, but never so…unscheduled.
Never on what was supposed to be, for all intents and purposes, a vacation. An escape.
I didn’t know how to escape. I’d been born into the role I occupied in this world, and I knew even less how to take a vacation. Especially when someone out there had threatened Frankie so brazenly. Even now, the memory of the note made me grip the balcony rail like I hoped I could snap it in two. Fuck it. I had the money to pay for it if it came to that.
We were an ocean away from whoever had left that note in her mother’s mailbox.
