Obsessed: A Billionaire Love Triangle

by Mia Ford

  Thomas took his hands away from my breasts and I cried out, wanting more. But soon he was moving them over the newly rounded curve of my belly and down to my hot pussy. I was so wet that I was leaking juices all over Thomas and slipping around in my own arousal was both embarrassing and incredibly hot. As Thomas slid a finger between my legs and gently began to flick my clit, I moaned and purred with pleasure.

  “So wet,” Thomas growled in my ear. “My good little girl, always ready for me.”

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered. “I’m yours forever.”

  Thomas pulled his hand away and grabbed me roughly by the hips, flipping me over on my back. He crawled between my legs and looked at me, lust blazing in his dark eyes. His silvery hair was tousled from a restless night and he was unshaven.

  I’d never seen him look sexier.

  Spreading my legs, I licked my lips and gave what I hoped was an inviting look. Thomas’s cock was hard, nestled in a small thatch of silver pubic hair. I gazed down, salivating as I imagined how it would feel when he plunged inside of me for the very first time.

  Just as Thomas was about to enter me, the door burst open.

  “Eek!” I screamed and pulled the duvet over my naked body. Thomas growled, pulling the sheet up to his hips, just enough to cover his erect cock.

  “Oh, fuck,” Brett said. “I’m so sorry.” He was standing in the doorway. But when I noticed the smirk on his fifteen-year-old face, I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re not sorry at all,” I said. “Get out!”

  Brett walked out of the room, forgetting to close the door after him.

  “You ever fucking heard of knocking?” Thomas bellowed.

  We glanced at each other before bursting into giggles.

  “Sorry,” Thomas mumbled. He rolled his eyes. “Goddamned kid needs to learn some boundaries.” He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. “Try again?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t think it’s still there for me.”

  Thomas nodded. He leaned close and kissed me. “That’s okay, babe,” he said. “I promise – later tonight, you’re going to be begging for my cock.”

  I blushed hotly as Thomas’s stubble brushed against my face. “I know,” I said softly. “I can’t wait.”

  Thomas groaned and stretched, climbing out of bed and pulling on a pair of black boxer shorts. “What time is it?” He narrowed his eyes and picked up his reading glasses from the side of the bed.

  “You’re an old man,” I teased.

  “Watch it,” Thomas growled. He winked at me and we burst out laughing. “I feel better than ever.”

  I giggled. “I should hope so,” I added. “Considering you’re about to become Daddy Number Two.”

  Thomas glanced with fondness at my growing belly.

  “Pregnancy is so weird,” I complained. “One minute all I can think about is sex.”

  “And the next?”

  “Food,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands. “I’m getting so big! I’m a heifer, Thomas. I can’t even zip my jeans.”

  “I like you this way,” Thomas chuckled. “You’re curvy.”

  I glared at him. “I miss sushi,” I said dreamily, climbing out of bed and pulling on a loose cotton dress. It was one of the only things I had that still fit me. “And soft cheese. And wine,” I added.

  Thomas smirked. “As soon the baby’s born, we’re going out to Daniel,” Thomas said.

  I laughed. “Sounds good, Daddy,” I said, batting my lashes.

  “Are you excited about today?”

  My stomach rumbled with anxiety. “I am,” I confessed. “But I’m a little nervous, too.”

  “Don’t be,” Thomas said. He buttoned up his shirt and ran a brush through his thick, silvery hair.

  “I just don’t want things to change,” I said softly. “What if having a new baby comes between us?”

  Thomas sighed. He walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes and kissing me deeply.

  “June, nothing could tear me away from you,” he said. “Things are going to be different. At first, they’ll be strained. But I swear, our love is forever. And after the baby gets a little older, things will get back to normal.”

  I nodded. “I have to admit that I feel a little better, knowing you’ve done this before.”

  Thomas laughed. “I bet,” he said. “Come on, we should get going. Your appointment is at eleven-thirty, wouldn’t want to piss off the ultrasound tech.”

  I nodded. “I’m good,” I said. “I’m ready now.”

  Half an hour later, I was lying on an uncomfortable bed, propped up with my belly exposed. Even though I hadn’t gained more than the doctor said I should, I still felt huge and gawky, especially when I was naked.

  Marie, the smiling ultrasound tech, rubbed a cold gel all over my belly.

  “And how are we today?” Marie cooed, more to my stomach than to me.

  Thomas and I exchanged glances.

  “Doing well,” Thomas said. “And you?”

  “Oh, I’m just fine,” Marie said. She took the ultrasound device in her hands and booted up the screen. “Now June, you’re about four and a half months along, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Would you like to know the sex?”

  I nodded. “Oh, yes,” I said. “Please.”

  Marie grinned. “Hey, Dad, why don’t you come over here,” she said, gesturing for Thomas to stand by my side and hold my hand. “This is usually a very happy moment.”

  Thomas grinned. “It certainly is for me.”

  Thomas laced his fingers with mine and squeezed. I yelped in surprise as Marie began to move the ultrasound device over my swollen belly.

  “It’s cold,” I whimpered.

  “Poor baby,” Thomas said. He kissed my forehead. “I love you,” he whispered, too quietly for Marie to hear.

  “I love you,” I mouthed back at Thomas.

  “Okay!” Marie grinned and looked triumphant. “Here it is, the final moment. Ready to know?”

  Tears welled up in my eyes and my face flushed bright red.

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. March,” Marie said. “You’re having a little girl!”

  I shrieked in delight as tears streamed down my face. Thomas and I kissed and he held me close.

  “Are you happy?” I whispered.

  “I’ve never been happier,” Thomas said. He grinned.

  I smiled. All of the anxiety and tension I’d been feeling melted away from my body and I relaxed against the bed.

  Somehow, things had ended absolutely perfect. I couldn’t wait for us to welcome our new daughter. And while a part of me was slightly nervous about how a baby would change our family, I knew deep down that everything would be wonderful.

  HOT SELLER: Betrayed

  Blurb

  I’d gone undercover before, but never with the intention of getting a suspect into my bed. That’s how hot Sean O’Connor was. He might have been the head of a criminal organization, but he was the hottest crook I’d ever seen. I wanted to cuff him to my bed and make him sing like a bird, and that’s what I’d do soon as I got the chance …

  I swore to uphold the law, but it’s hard to slap the cuffs on a guy when his tongue is in your ear and his arms are wrapped around you so tight you can barely breathe.

  Sean O’Connor is a criminal, but he’s also dedicated and loyal and so sexy he makes my mouth water and my panties melt.

  I know if I’m not careful, he might steal my heart and run. I can’t let that happen. I’m a cop and he’s a crook. When it comes down to the wire, Sean O’Connor is going down, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 1: Claire McAfee

  I sat in my usual spot in the morning briefing of the Organized Crime Task Force and watched the other plainclothes and uniformed cops drift in. It was almost comical to call it a task force because it was just the four of us detectives who were permanently assigned an
d the seven or eight cops who rotated in and out on any given day.

  It was more of a task group, but that didn’t sound nearly as cool or intimidating as task force. What bad guy in their right mind would worry about being investigated by a task group?

  Probably, very few.

  A task group was one step above a task club.

  But I digress…

  There were several rows of tables in the room, lined up one behind the other, each with six chairs facing the front wall where my ex-husband and task force commander, Captain Ed Henry, would stand and bring us up to date on anything that happened since the last time we’d met.

  Yes, it was odd working so closely with my ex. Odder still was the fact that we got along much better now than we ever did during our six years of doomed marriage.

  Maybe it was because we had nothing to prove to one another now.

  Or maybe it was because now Ed could screw whomever he wanted without having to worry about getting caught and having me rip his nuts off with my sharp nails.

  Ed was a great guy, but he was one of the biggest pussy hounds in the history of the department. I knew it when I married him, but I married him anyway, thinking that I could change him.

  Stupid me.

  What’s the old saying, you can’t change a leopard’s spots?

  Well, I found out the hard way you can’t change a pussy hound’s ways either. Once a pussy hound, always a pussy hound. No amount of threatening or marital counseling could make him change his ways. All I could do was just divorce him and let him become someone else’s problem.

  Despite his inability to keep his rather lengthy, uncircumcised cock in his pants, Ed Henry was a good cop and an excellent investigator who had made a name for himself putting away bad guys in expensive suits while I was grinding it out as an undercover investigator in Vice. The day he asked me to join the task force was one of the happiest days of my life. I was chasing hookers and johns for a living. Now I chase greasy gangsters with names like Charlie Baggo Donuts, Ricky Sticky Fingers, and Patsy O’Connor.

  The nicknames these guys give each other are a little like the nicknames guys give their dicks. You’re never gonna meet a woman who has given her pussy a name. But every guy has a nickname for his dick, regardless of whether he will admit it or not.

  Ed called his cock and balls Willie and his two nutty friends.

  I know, silly, but come on, it’s kinda cute.

  I always sat at the second table, middle seat, sipping bad coffee from the lipstick-stained cup I’d used since joining the task force three years ago and taking notes on an iPad. Some mornings the notes ran several pages. Other mornings, nothing at all.

  There were five detectives permanently assigned to the task force. I was one of two women; and the only straight woman. The other woman was Joanie Alvarez, a chunky Spanish fireball who could make even the hardest of criminals back down with what she called her “angry lesbian stare”. And if that didn’t do it, she would break their kneecap with the heel of her sensible shoes or take out an eye with the point of her car keys. Joanie was barely five feet tall, but she was a force to be reckoned with.

  The other members of the team were Lou Santiago, a tall Italian with dark hair and squinty eyes; Brad Danzig, the youngest member who spent way more time in the gym than any human should be allowed; and Lester Shanahan, a tall Irishman who always used slaps of Old Spice cologne to cover the nips of whiskey we all knew he drank during the day.

  Then there was Ed, our fearless leader, who, at forty-five, was still tall and handsome and ready with the quick smile and warm hands that could still make my juices flow. We still had our little sex romps every now and then, even though he was usually involved with someone else and I swore that every time would be the last. When it came to Ed, my willpower was shit. And he knew it.

  Each team member, including myself, was a top-notch investigator with lots of successful operations under their belt. Maybe that was why we were all so fucking frustrated now. Ed stood at the front of the room and said it best.

  “We’ve been spinning our wheels in O’Connor shit for six months, people. If we don’t get a break soon, we’re gonna have to close the book on these mother fuckers and let them walk. That is something I do not want to do. Am I clear?”

  The “O’Connor shit” Ed was referring to was a criminal organization led by a notorious Irish gangster named Patrick “Patsy” O’Connor. The task force (task club) had been trying to collect enough evidence to bring O’Connor and his gang up on a multitude of charges for months, yet so far, we didn’t have enough evidence to charge him with jaywalking.

  We all knew that our time was running out. If we couldn’t find the crack in Pats O’Connor’s armor soon the task force would either move on to the next gang on the list or, most likely since memos about budget cuts kept coming down from on high, be disbanded and everyone reassigned.

  I shuddered to think that I might end up back chasing hookers and johns in Vice. At this point, I was willing to do anything to make sure our investigation into Connor’s organization somehow bore fruit and kept the team together. Anything.

  I sipped the coffee and listened to Ed basically tell us that the weekend surveillance of O’Connor’s operation at the docks had resulted in nothing more than the usual comings and goings of O’Connor and his crew.

  I let my eyes go around the white board behind Ed that was covered with the mugshot and surveillance photos of members of the O’Connor gang, with Patsy’s photo at the top, then horizontal and vertical lines displaying the hierarchy of his organization.

  The higher a photo was on the board, the higher that person was in the organization. The photo directly below Patsy’s was that of his son, Sean, an attorney whom we believed was being groomed to take over the organization from his father.

  “Claire? Claire?”

  I blinked when I heard my name. I had been busted daydreaming about Sean O’Connor again. I couldn’t tell you exactly why, but the photograph of Patsy O’Connor’s only son never failed to catch my eye.

  Tall, muscular, blonde, blue eyed, big Irish smile… he was, without a doubt, the best-looking gangster I’d ever seen.

  I’d yet to see him in person, only in photographs and grainy surveillance videos, but there was something about him that made a little tingle run up and down my spine. I sometimes imagined him handcuffed to my bed, naked, with a ball-gag in his mouth…

  Jesus, Claire, you really need to get laid.

  “Claire?”

  I looked up to find Ed staring at me. “Claire? You with us?”

  I quickly swallowed the lump in my throat and pried my eyes away from Sean O’Connor’s photo, ignoring the heat between my legs. I looked at Ed and gave him a firm nod. “Yes, sorry, just thinking.”

  “First time’s always hard, sweet cheeks,” Joanie said, grinning over her shoulder at me. I flipped her the bird and gave Ed my full attention.

  “I asked if you had found anything else in Sean O’Connor’s background that we might be able to use to get in the door. Anything we can use against him.” Ed leaned an elbow on the podium next to him and shoved his other hand in his pocket and rattled the change he had on him. It was an old habit of his, shoving a hand in his pocket to rattle change when his patience was running thin. I’d been on the receiving end of it many times.

  “Oh, well, not much I’m afraid,” I said, stumbling over my words. I cleared my throat and put on a serious face as I laced my fingers together on the table and nodded at the photo of Sean O’Connor.

  “I dug deeper into his background before he went to work for his father, but I didn’t find anything useful,” I said formally. “The guy is so fucking clean he squeaks.”

  “What about friends and business associates?” one of the uniformed cops sitting behind me asked. The name SAUNDERS was printed on his name tag.

  I shrugged at him over my shoulder. “He does not have a large social circle. He has a few buddies from college who appear to be
legit, but that’s it.”

  “What does he do for fun?” Saunders asked.

  “He spends most of his nights at a club downtown that he has an interest in called The White Rabbit.”

  “I’ve been there,” Danzig said, his head bobbing atop his thick neck. He was wearing a skintight black t-shirt that struggled to contain the bulging muscles of his shoulders and chest. “Place is a fucking meat market.”

  “The place is a pussy mill,” Joanie said, smiling sideways at Danzig, who always sat next to her so they could shoot off their mouths and snicker at one another. They were an odd set of pals, the young weightlifter and the older lesbian who preferred flannel shirts over silk blouses. She poked her elbow into his ribs. “You must have been right at home.”

  Danzig sneered at her. “Like you don’t haunt every lesbian bar in the city looking for a rug to munch on.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Joanie said, sticking out her tongue and running it across her lips. She held up a hand and Danzig slapped his palm against it.

  “Guys, please,” Ed said. He held out his hands to me. “Claire, go on for those who are not up to speed on Sean O’Connor.”

  I spoke without turning around to face the uniforms sitting behind us. “Sean O’Connor spends his nights drinking in the club’s VIP area and entertaining women with questionable morals and even more questionable taste in clothes.” I nodded at the back of Danzig’s buzzed head. “I think it might be a good idea to send someone to the club to have a look around and talk to the girls, just to see if they have anything to say about Sean.”

  “Can’t hurt,” Ed said, pointing a finger at me, then at Danzig. “You and Danzig check it out.”

  “Why do I have to go?” I asked.

  “Because it was your idea,” Ed said.

  “Fuck,” I sighed. “I hate disco music.”

  “You’re not going to dance,” Ed said as he stepped behind the podium to look over his notes before moving on.

  Danzig glanced over his round shoulder at me and grinned. “You and me, girlfriend. Wear something sexy and we’ll see where the night leads.”

  “If I’m with you I’m pretty sure it will lead to vomiting,” I said, picking up my cup of now-cold coffee.