Sons of Justice 8_Lust to Love

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Sons of Justice 8_Lust to Love Page 11

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer


  He got to her hips, the tattoo, the belly piercing. He didn’t want any men looking at what belonged to him. To them. Who were these fucking bosses of hers? Were they attractive? Had she ever had sex with them, or let them kiss her, feel her up, suckle her breasts?” A scowl formed on his face.

  “Farrow. Are you okay?” she asked, in that sexy, dainty, feminine vice he wanted to have for himself to hear and no one else. He was totally losing his fucking mind here.

  He gripped her hips and then lifted up, aligned his cock with her wet pussy and stared at where their bodies met.

  “This is fucking real. Not a game, not temporary. Understand me?” he asked, but his tone seemed to scare her. She slowly nodded her head, but then he narrowed his eyes at her and she got all tough again.

  “I sure as shit hope not, because I don’t know what I would do if I could never feel like this again. To have the four of you together making me feel this way. Please, Farrow. I need you inside of me, where we’re connected and one.”

  He started to push into her cunt.

  “Together as one,” he said, and gripped her arms by her elbows and slowly sank into her cunt. He held himself there and closed his eyes as she did, and they both moaned.

  “Heaven. This body is heaven.”

  He eased out and thrust back in. He opened his eyes and watched her tilt her head back and moan. The sight of her sexy hips, and her cunt sucking in his cock on every thrust was overwhelming. He was highly sensitive to each stroke, to her scent, her skin, and then dips of muscle in her tight abs, the tattoo, sexy, feminine, the belly ring, sexy, pretty, and the way she accepted their dominance and control. She would need to be accepting to their demands and their rules. Men in their positions did dangerous jobs and missions. How the hell would he ever leave her for even a short period of time? “Fuck!” he roared, and the thoughts of not having her every day and every night played havoc on his brain as he sought out the will and need to submerge those ideas and focus on the here and now and having her. Possessing Brazille with his team. He thrust and stroked, and then slid his one hand to her hip and thigh, lifted it higher as he loomed over her and placed a hand on her shoulder for leverage as he thrust into her deeply.

  “Farrow. Oh God, Farrow!” she cried out.

  ‘Come with me, baby. Come now,” he ordered.

  “Yes. Yes!” she exclaimed, and they came together, thrusting, rocking, moaning, and then he lowered down and kissed her. She wrapped her legs around him as best she could, and as he released her lips, he nuzzled against her neck, inhaled her scent, and felt somewhat satisfied as the fears, and the uncertainty drifted to a low, dull ache in his mind, and he just enjoyed having her here in his arms safe and sound.

  Chapter Three

  The next two nights it was the same thing. She’d text and say when she would be home, and they would be there when she arrived. They made love, they didn’t just have sex. As wild and crazy as it was, and no matter where they took her—in the garage, the kitchen table, the hallway wall, or in her bed, it was deep, and they told her how much they needed her and wanted her in their lives. Other than that, they held back information, didn’t talk much about their lives, their careers as soldiers, and she had this feeling that this whole thing, this relationship if she could call it that, was new to them and they feared it. But what did she know? She only had a relationship with Brian to go by, and he actually cheated on her.

  She was fearful, too. Of the connection, the power they already had over her body, and even her mind. Hell, she thought about them constantly. Their bodies, all muscular and hard, and their scents, the taste of their cocks and how it felt when they came in her mouth, and she loved it, she adored them, and wanted to please them. It shocked her how last night on her way home, knowing they would be there waiting for her, that her pussy reacted. She was wet and ready before she even pulled up into her driveway.

  This couldn’t be normal. It couldn’t be. She held back, too, though. That fear, the uncertainty, the lack of true commitment or indicating that they wanted a commitment other than sex, bothered her now as she wondered where they were, what they were doing, and who they were with. She was the jealous one now, the one imagining the worst. If they all didn’t have prior engagements, they would be meeting her at her house once again, and with these feelings of possessiveness she had, she would be the one attacking them, and she would give in to the need, the desire to have the four men take her together and fully claim her like no man had ever done before.

  She fanned herself. She was hot just thinking about it. Anal sex? What if they screwed her over and left her? Then what? What man would want her knowing she was in a ménage, and let four men take her in every hole, even if it were love? Which she wasn’t saying she was in love with them. No, no she wouldn’t be so stupid. Tears stung her eyes, her heart pounded and she felt like vomiting. “Mother fucker,” she whispered, well more like hissed.

  One of the bartenders heard her and he scrunched his eyes at her. “Everything okay?” he asked. She took an unsteady breath, closed her eyes, and then exhaled. Get your shit together. Just continue to take it one day at a time.

  “Everything is fine. I thought I forgot something important.”

  “You, Brazille? Never, you’re always well composed even when the shit hits the fan. You’ve done everything you can to make this event tonight a success. So much so, you can probably kick back and have a few with your friends. Maybe let me buy you a drink?” he asked and winked. She smiled. “I don’t pay for drinks anyway, and you know me, I don’t drink much at all.”

  “I know. You always want a clear head. That’s smart, especially with all these guys that will surely be eating you up with their eyes and trying to hit on you tonight,” he said.

  “Me?” she asked him.

  “Brazille, that dress is fire,” he said and winked.

  “Brazille?” She heard her name and turned around to see the manager of Benzingers.

  “Carl, how are you?” she asked, and the man smiled wide and greeted her with a kiss hello. The way his hand slid along her lower back nearly to her ass didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, she was shocked when she imagined her men’s response if they saw that. Her men? Jesus.

  “You look stunning as usual. Everything is all set. Mr. Burns will be arriving within the hour, guests are arriving, and the band is primed and ready. Those last-minute arrangements you needed are complete, and even those favors are scattered along the tables. You did an amazing job. I already sent a message to Michelangelo.”

  “Fabulous,” she replied, and slid her hands along her hips. The short, tight, navy blue sequins dress was very sexy. It accentuated her curves, pushed her cleavage deep together, showed off her toned arms and legs, especially with her designer heels. Mr. Burns asked that everyone dress a certain way, all women short length cocktail dresses for sequins, and men were to wear black dress pants, navy blue button-down shirts with black bow ties. She noticed some of the men matched their dates with some sequins in those black bow ties. It was a mixed crowd of well-off individuals, and some shady looking characters that security was already keeping eyes on. She was hoping that Merica and Talia arrived soon. No one else could make it tonight, but Merica and Talia were thrilled. Plus, Brazille needed to talk to them and get some advice about the guys. She didn’t know if she should continue this relationship without making some rules of her own, or wait to see what Saturday night brought, and as much as she loved having sex with them, she wanted more than that. Would they even make it to dinner? They were so damn hungry for her and she was hungry for them, too. Her breasts swelled and her pussy ached. She had to stop thinking about them.

  “Oh, your friends have arrived. Security is bringing them here,” Carl said as he held a finger to his ear piece. He was in constant contact with security, as well as the rest of the staff.

  “Thank you, and we’ll talk more later,” she said to him, but then Mr. Benzinger caught sight of Merica and Talia, and he looked back at Bra
zille. “What is in the water where you ladies come from? My God, I will be back to buy them drinks,” he said and winked.

  “Hi,” Merica said, and Brazille hugged her hello, and then hugged Talia hello.

  “This is Mr. Benzinger, he owns the club,” she said, introducing him to her friends.

  “Awesome place, Mr. Benzinger,” Merica said to him as she shook his hand.

  “Thank you.” Then he shook Talia’s hand hello, and then his eyes went back to Merica.

  “I will definitely be joining you ladies later on for drinks. Nice meeting you,” he said and walked away.

  Merica grabbed her arm.

  “Damn girl, there are super fine men here.”

  “And super rich, too. Some dude just pulled up in a Bentley. Like, holy shit,” Talia said, and Brazille laughed.

  “Well, I told you this was a once-in-a-life-time opportunity,” she teased as they approached the bar.

  “Meet Merk,” she said to them, and the bartender said hello.

  “Hello, ladies. What can I get you?” Her friends rambled off their drinks of pineapple vodka and cranberry juice.

  Talia put down a twenty.

  “Oh no, honey. Your money isn’t good here tonight. The boss said it’s on the house,” Merk said, and Brazille looked to the end of the bar and saw Carl looking back and giving a wave, his eyes on Merica.

  “I think you made a new friend,” Brazille teased her, and then they clinked glasses.

  “I think I may need to say thank you later,” Merica said, and winked.

  “You go, girl, just don’t be some one-night stand. You’ll regret it,” Talia said to her.

  “I doubt it. He’s pretty sexy and good looking for an older man. How old do you think he is, forty?” Merica asked.

  “Forty-one,” Brazille said, and took a sip, then looked around the place. It was getting crowded and everything was going perfectly.

  “Hey, speaking of one-night stands, what’s doing with you and those sexy killer soldiers? Have they brought you out on a date yet, or haven’t you seen them since last Sunday?” Merica asked.

  “Oh, I’ve seen them,” Brazille said, and looked away and took another sip of drink.

  “When? Where did they take you, and how did it go?” Talia asked.

  “Well, we didn’t go out. I showed up to my house late after dinner with my bosses Tuesday night, and they were there waiting for me.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. J.T said they missed me and they wanted to know if I missed them, too.”

  “Awe, so then what happened?” Talia asked, and Brazille moved closer.

  “What didn’t happen,” she replied.

  “What does that mean?” Talia asked.

  “It was insane. Cole was asking me questions and commenting about my dress being too sexy, and then he was kissing me, and then Luke joined in and said something about rules, and J.T. kissed me and then they’re telling me that I belong to them and they couldn’t stand being away, and I’m sandwiched between Luke and well, the next thing I know I’m bent against the hood of my car and Cole is taking me from behind.”

  “Holy fucking shit, that sounds so hot,” Talia said.

  Merica took a sip from her drink.

  “So hot, I’m blushing,” she said, and they chuckled. Brazille covered her face with her hands.

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing guys. I really don’t,” she said, and then uncovered her face and shook her head. Merica placed her hand on her shoulder.

  “You like them a lot?”

  “I like them more than a lot. I can’t stop thinking about them, but it seems like all we do is have sex.”

  “You’re complaining about that? Those men are super scary, intense beyond belief. Like just as freaking powerful and intimidating as Spartan and his team. Plus, they’re fucking hot, Brazille,” Merica said.

  “I know that. I’m not complaining, it’s just that I never felt like this about anyone, never mind four older men. It’s like they say little things to make me believe that they feel it, too, and want more, and that it’s more than sex, but the conversations stop. They control everything, and I have the feeling that maybe they never had a committed relationship, and they’re feeling vulnerable. I don’t know. Unless I just don’t know shit about men and I’m hoping they really care. I mean, my last boyfriend was from two years ago and he cheated on me. I hadn’t a clue.”

  “Well you live and you learn. If you don’t think they’re committed, then make some demands on them. Say you want to be taken out to dinner, and that you want to talk more. Ask them to make a stand and indicate that this is a commitment and not just sex,” Merica said.

  “We’re supposed to get together tomorrow. Tonight, they didn’t even say what their prior commitment was, so I didn’t tell them what mine was either. They were evasive when I tried asking, and so I was, too. Then I’m standing here earlier and wondering if they’re with another woman. Like maybe they’re cheating on me, or I’m one of many. I got so angry and upset, I wanted to cry. I’ve truly never felt so much before. I’m so stupid and suck at this.”

  “You aren’t stupid, they are for not being forthright and staking an official claim. Believe me, they’ll need to shit or get off the pot soon, or Spartan and Cesar will have shit fits,” Merica said to her.

  “Yes, and in the meantime, follow your gut this time. Don’t let your sexual appetite for them rule your brain, girl. If they show signs of being unfaithful, then get rid of them and walk away. You’ll know immediately when something isn’t right,” Talia said.

  Brazille and Merica chuckled. “Sexual appetite?” Brazille asked and raised an eyebrow up.

  “Uhm, yeah, you basically let them bend you over your car and fuck you in your garage. You obviously couldn’t wait for a bed, so yes, sexual appetite,” Talia said.

  “Talia!” Brazille exclaimed, and the three women laughed, and Brazille already felt a little better. It was great to have such good friends.

  * * * *

  “Why don’t we just jump the mother fucker, beat his ass for disgracing the uniform, and then drop him off at the police station with pockets filled with drugs? It would be a hell of a lot easier than just standing here in a fucking club watching who he’s with and what’s going down. We can’t do shit anyway,” Farrow stated to Cole.

  “Because that’s not the plan, Farrow. Calm your temper, too. We’re supposed to be blending in,” Cole said.

  “Blending in. We stand fucking out. Everyone is wearing navy blue.”

  “Well, we didn’t get that memo, and we are wearing black, so who gives a fuck. There are other people wearing colors and at this bar.”

  “We need to be closer, like where J.T. and Luke are.”

  “No, we need to be separated. Hopefully this dick Turner doesn’t pin us as soldiers of SOJ, or even take notice of us,” Cole said to him.

  “Wait, there he is,” Farrow said.

  Cole raised his wrist with the watch and camera as Farrow held a finger to his ear and spoke into his mic on his wrist as he took a sip of his drink. “Three o’clock, four men, one thin brunette, short dress to her crack,” he said, and then glanced back over.

  “Got it,” J.T. said in his mic. Cole looked back over.

  “I don’t know any of those guys,” Farrow said.

  “Neither do I, but we got pictures,” Farrow said, and two of the men were walking toward them along with Turner. Turner looked at Farrow and Cole, just as two women ordered drinks behind Farrow.

  “Those are on us, gorgeous,” Farrow said, turning to hide his face. Both women blushed. “Thank you,” one of them said, and then rubbed Farrow’s arm.

  Cole saw Turner and them walking by, and then he heard the familiar voice.

  “Cole?”

  He turned just as the other woman eased next to him. Brazille’s eyes widened, she took in the sight of both women rubbing against Cole and Farrow, and he could only imagine what it looked like. Her sweet s
mile went to a sour, angry expression.

  “Brazille?” Farrow said her name, but then so did one of the men who was with Turner. Cole and Farrow tuned, but Cole had to get rid of her. If Turner got too close, he could recognize them and their little undercover surveillance operation would go to shit fast.

  “Take a hike,” he said, and saw the tears fill her eyes and he turned away. He locked gazes with Farrow and in his ear, he heard J.T. and Luke curse.

  “Fuck,” Farrow whispered as the two women continued to rub them and hit on them, and they allowed it. Cole glanced back and he was fucking shocked to see one of the men with Brazille had been one that walked into the club with Turner. Is Brazille involved with them? With some of the illegal activity? Is that why she didn’t say she would be here? Who the fuck did she work for? Was it connected? A thousand questions went through his head. Anger boiled inside of him. Turner and others were responsible for the murder of several soldiers and other men. What the fuck?

  * * * *

  Fernando Castrione took her elbow and cupped her cheek.

  “What’s wrong? Did those men say something to hurt you?” he demanded to know.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t believe it. She was shocked. They pretended not to know her, were hitting on two women and drinking by the bar with them. They told her to get lost. She forced the tears away, the pain, the heartache, the fact that she was betrayed. “No, I’m fine, I thought I knew them, that they were clients we did business with, but it wasn’t.” She swallowed hard. “Are you enjoying the event? The band is awesome, aren’t they?” she asked.

  “They are. You did an amazing job. I was just telling a business associate of mine and your cousin about it.”

  “My cousin?” she asked, and he stepped aside and sure enough, right at the bar between four men was her cousin Chanelle.

  “Yes, won’t you join us for a drink?” he asked, eyeing over her body. She shook her head.

 

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