Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2)

by Alice May Ball

  I stood close to him, my eyes were level with his collarbone. He was a fine young man. Inside the suite he said, “Oh,”

  It was a lovely suite. Large, airy, all white and creams and fluffy soft rugs and pillows. I hadn’t lied about the view, either. The lake in the park shimmered and sparkled in the fading evening light, and on the skyline we could see Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye.

  I could see that Adrian was taking more interest in my pink and grey silk dress than he was in the view outside. My breasts heaved as I settled him back into an armchair.

  “I don’t feel so awkward with you, Mrs. Chatterton,” he said, and looking down into his lap, I could see that behind his military twill pants, something was rising to demonstrate his point.

  I was breathless but I managed to say, “No, Adrian, you don’t, do you.” He saw where my eyes had rested and his face colored.

  “Oh, Mrs. Chatterton, I’m so sorry.”

  “No you’re not, Adrian. You’re not sorry, you’re just shy.”

  “Well,” the poor boy’s voice was thickening in his throat, “I’m not experienced, Mrs. Chatterton.”

  “No, I can see that, Adrian. But you’re keen, and that can make up for it.” I stood close by his chair. My heat was rising and I could smell my juices. “Adrian, being close to you is making me excited,” the boys eyes widened, “and I’m getting kind of… hot. Do you know what I mean?”

  He didn’t know what to say. I said, “I’m getting all hot and wet in my panties. Would you mind if I took them off?” His eyes were wide and slowly, his head shook, and I went on, “just like you’re getting kind of cramped in yours.” I looked down at the insistent bulge in his pants.

  I could see that he was about to say, I’m sorry again, so I touched his lips. He kissed my fingertips. This time it didn’t seem formal at all. Perhaps that was because he used his tongue.

  I said, “Let me get these off first,” I hitched my silk skirt slowly up over the tops of my stockings and I watched Adrian’s eyes roll and flutter as his tongue flicked across his lips.

  My panties made a soft, whispering sound as I slid them slowly down over the sheer stockings. I let my skirt back down as I did, giving him just a brief glimpse. I wafted the sheer knickers past his nose as I hung them on the far side of his chair.

  His eyes were transfixed on my skirt. He tried to speak, “Could I…”

  “Yes, Adrian?” Oh, it was gorgeous to tease him, but I knew he couldn’t take much of it, so I said, “Yes, Adrian,” and I lifted my skirt a little to encourage him.

  When Adrian laid his hands on my thighs, my heart thudded and I felt a spark through me. He slid his hands around and up my stockings and then stroked the soft, warm, quivering flesh above.

  I parted my thighs and his lips came close. I ran my fingers over his lips and immediately he sucked on them, looking up at me like a puppy dog. All the while his hands were moving higher and round the insides of my thighs.

  I said, “Want to taste, Adrian?”

  “God, yes,” he exclaimed. I slid my skirt up and his eager mouth fell into my mound and my tingling, swollen pussy. His lips and his tongue were all over my aching wet flower. I shook when he pressed his tongue hard on the base of my buzzing hot clit.

  His hands flew to grasp my buttocks. He pulled me to his eager mouth. I put my knees on the arms of the chair and leaned into him. He sucked and pulled with his lips and plunged his tongue around, up and through my hot, swollen folds, over my over-sensitive bud and up, deep inside me.

  I had wanted to give Adrian an introduction to a womanly body, to guide him gently along the soft velvety paths of pleasure towards satisfaction, but having him gorge on my hot, wet lips and plunge his long, strong, mobile wet tongue deep and hard into me, I just jammed my slathering pussy into his urgent, eager mouth.

  My hips bucked hard against his tongue. I had never had such a forceful and muscular tonguing before and my hands clawed at his head, pulling him harder into me. My breasts ached and my nipples stung inside my bra. My stomach rolled in waves of spasm.

  His fingers skittered up and down the cleavage of my trembling buttocks. Then they pulled my thighs apart. Then they spread my lips. They lid along the swollen, weeping canyon and they plunged inside me.

  My throat let out a guttural cry, “God, Adrian, please!” I looked down at him and squeezed his head between my shaking thighs. I reached a hand up to my breast, pulled at my nipple through the dress, through the bra. My head thrashed from side to side as my pelvis rocked and ground on his thick, hot, wet mouth.

  I wanted his cock. I wanted to hold it and pummel it, to taste it and swallow it, to jam it hard up inside me, but I couldn’t reach his pants without pulling away from his mouth. More than anything I wanted his mouth to stay moving on me and in me.

  “Adrian,” my voice was thick like an animal roar, “Don’t stop. PLEASE, don’t stop!” My juices ran thick and waves of sensation whipped and flowed and burst through my thighs, my body, my breast and my hungry, hungry sex.

  My hands gripped on Adrian’s head and I sawed my crotch against him as his tongue flashed into me, reaming all around my weeping walls. My pussy clamped on him. Wild, electric sensations perched, zinging at the tipping point, teetered, rocked and then burst and overflowed through my whole body.

  I reached down to spread my wings for him, to open myself up more to his mouth. My knees shuddered and weakened and almost gave way. He slid down in the chair and I sank, shaking and quivering to sit on his chest and shoulders.

  The thought that he couldn’t take my weight that way was drowned and washed away by my body’s howling need. My back stretched, my thighs and my buttocks clenched and my toes curled as I quaked and moaned and whimpered.

  The bursting, rolling waves of sensation spilled, splashed and surged through me. I cried out and moaned. My hips thrashed, my buttocks rocked, my thighs clamped on Adrian’s gorgeous blond head.

  My head shook as my back flexed and arched and my desperate fingers clawed his head into my wide, wet, convulsing need. All of my muscles tightened and flexed in bursting, rhythmic force.

  I crouched in a ball around the poor boy’s head. I didn’t know how he could breathe, but my pussy wouldn’t let him go. My hot, swollen wet lips pressed in and on his lips. His face was drenched and his breath was scorching hot. Still his tongue lapped at me, and I twitched at every touch.

  Waves of aftershock sparked and splashed through me as I crouched and nuzzled Adrian with my legs and my puss. I stroked him tenderly. Eventually I peeled myself off him. I took his face in my hands and looked into his wondering, watery eyes.

  I sighed and kissed him, long and soft and deep. The tang of my own hot juice, my sex in his mouth made me tremble. I told him, “You have no reason at all to be shy with the girls, Adrian. That was really, really wonderful.”

  I crawled down to nuzzle into his lap. I slid farther down and pressed my breasts against the great bulge in his pants. I gasped to feel him throb between my breasts. I bit my lip as I stroked and pressed his straining pants. I blew on on him as I stroked, then I looked up and said, “About this lance, Lance Corporal.”

  His eyes rolled as I slowly dragged his stiff, heavy zipper, tooth by tooth, down to free the dammed up pressure behind. The black, silky Calvins sprang out of the breech, and his slick purple head poked skyward.

  I knelt between his knees and wrapped him in my fingers, then I pulled him down towards my face. “That’s a fine weapon, soldier,”

  He coughed and shifted as he said, “We don’t say ‘soldier,’ we say guardsman.”

  I gripped him, I pulled the uncut skin down his shaft, and then I looked up and grinned. I licked my lips extravagantly as I said, “Well then, on guard, guardsman.”

  I popped his huge, hot, throbbing cock onto my wet, waiting tongue and into my quivering, hungry lips. His velvety ridges tasted of precum and as soon as he was in my mouth, his hips bucked involuntarily, sliding the leng
th of his cock along my tongue.

  I took his balls gently in my hand as I sucked him and he writhed rewardingly as I pressed and pulled on him with my mouth. I held the fat base of his cock. Pulled down on it, while I gently caressed his balls.

  I looked up to see the delicious contortions of his young face as I shoved my mouth down and got his cock to the back of my throat. Sweet saliva gushed like a faucet into my mouth and I kept my lips around his hard, thick shaft as I nibbled my way to the base of his zinging, pulsing cock.

  My mouth dragged back along his shaft. I sucked on it and slid my tongue as far around and over it as I could, as I plunged back down the length of him, each time father along, each time faster.

  Adrian’s hips beat and writhed as my mouth took him, harder, deeper and gradually faster. At last, he gripped the sides of the chair and I felt his thigh muscles clench and start to spasm.

  He grunted and groaned as his hard, velvet ridges pulsated in my throat. Then, soon, his hips bucked and his lance speared me as his great pump pounded and shot its hot bolts of salty sweet sticky cum, coating my throat and drenching my already full mouth.

  It was slick and thick on my tongue, and there was a lot of it. I managed to contain it in my mouth, and saved him spilling any of the hot, molten seed on his uniform. I was sure that the Queen wouldn’t want any of her guardsmen on the outside of their uniforms.

  I held him in my mouth until he began to fade. Then he pulled me up to him. He looked wonderingly in my eyes as he kissed me with a, long, soulful kiss. A whole body kiss. We entwined like two streams, stroking each other’s hair, smiling, chuckling.

  We snuggled cozily in the armchair by the large window, I stretched for a phone and called down for champagne and sandwiches.

  Soon a boy in a smart maroon uniform arrived with a trolley bearing a bottle in an ice bucket, two fluted glasses and a silver tray with a cover. The boy’s eyes twinkled at Adrian as he expertly twisted the cork from the champagne bottle and poured. The golden foam steamed and frothed into the two flutes.

  As the boy left, I saw Adrian’s eyes twinkle back at him. As I passed Arian a flute I said, “I saw you look at the captain that way.”

  Adrian shrank a little but I said, “It’s okay, Adrian, I understand.” I touched his hand, “You’re young. It’s the twenty-first century. You don’t have to worry.”

  Slowly, he said, “It’s true. I’ve always had feelings around boys, just like I have around girls.”

  I said, “Have you ever acted on them?” he smiled and said,

  “About as many times as I have with women.” We laughed and drank champagne. The bottle didn’t last long. I said, “I wonder if the captain would bring us up another?”

  “The… captain?”

  “You haven’t forgotten Captain James, have you?”

  “Captain Bruton, you mean?”

  I watched Adrain’s eyes sparkle and gleam as I lifted the telephone handset. When I was through to the bar I asked if the captain was still at the table by the window, and I was glad to be told that he was. The phone was brought to him, and I asked if he would be so kind as to bring a bottle of champagne up to my suite. All he asked was, “How many glasses?”

  I went into the bathroom to straightened myself up before James Bruton’s arrival. Adrian got nervous. He stood up, then sat back down. Then he unbuttoned his tunic. Then he buttoned it up again. Then he moved to the couch. Then he came back to the chair by the window. He was on his way when a sharp RAP came at the door.

  Adrian hurried to open the door for the captain, then stood very straight as James strode smartly in, deftly holding a bottle and three champagne flutes in one hand. Strong, dextrous fingers, I thought. Single stem red roses stood in two of the flutes. James put the glasses and the bottle on a coffee table, then he brought one of the roses to me. He handed me the stem, saying, “Lovely rose, for a beautiful lady,” and he inclined his head. I felt like Scarlett O’Hara.

  James took the other rose over to Adrian and said, “You’ll bloom too. In time.”

  James said, “Still in uniform, Lance Corporal. Inappropriate for socializing.” Adrian was flustered. “Take it off, man. Tunic, at least.” Adrian said, “Sir,” and began to unbutton his tunic. Underneath it, his deeply-cut wife-beater style undershirt revealed a nicely tanned, beautifully toned, hard torso and arms, rippling and bulging in all the right places. Captain Bruton unbuttoned his own tunic, too, to gradually reveal a more mature frame with lots of curly, dark hair. Very strong and very capable looking.

  When they had removed their tunics, Bruton found a closet with to hang them in. Then he said, “Don’t have to call me ‘Captain’ now, Adrian.”

  “No,” said Adrian, “James.”

  “Much better,” said James. The two men looked at each other, and there was an electricity in the room. James came to open and pour the champagne. “Already had two glasses I see,” he said to me with a smile,

  “When you asked me ‘how many glasses,’ I thought you’d like to know how many drinkers.”

  “Quite right,” and he raised his glass, looking back at Adrian to see that he followed suit, “Fine lady with fine sensibilities,” and I fluttered my eyelids in acceptance of the toast. Bruton sat on the couch and patted the seat by him, “Adrian. Sit. Making the place untidy, standing about. Hovering.” As Adrian settled awkwardly by him, James said to me, “Fine suite. Lady of taste.” And he raised his glass to me again.

  Adrian fingered his glass a little nervously. James said, “Buck up, lad. Make a good show and all that,” and he patted Adrian’s thigh. Then he said, “Wet behind the ears, still?” and he leaned over, put his nose behind Adrian’s ear, and he licked him.

  Adrian’s eyes popped wide, he giggled and curled his head and shoulder together. That made James do it more. “Wet behind the ears now, lad. No mistake.” And James looked devilishly over to me. I was fidgeting, too, wondering what it felt like, being licked behind the ears like that. I couldn’t remember anyone ever doing that to me.

  “Still a boy,” said James, talking to me, “What used to be called a ‘girl.’ Did you know that? Till recently, ‘girl’ meant any child, adolescent or immature. Not sex-specific – sorry, supposed to say, ‘gender specific’ now – not gender specific at all until about the eighteen hundreds.”

  “Oh,” I said, “you call that ‘recently.’”

  He laughed, “Fair enough,” he said, “Interesting though, hm? ‘Girl’ meaning either. Or both.”

  “Or all,” said Adrian,

  “All of the above,” said James, twinkling.

  Adrian said, “All of the below, more like.”

  “See?” James fanned his hand in Adrian’s hair, “Not such a shrinking violet.”

  Adrian’s hand twitched. He was obviously going to muss James’ hair in retaliation, but he bit his lip and thought better of it. James saw that and said, “Still wet behind the ears, though,” and he rubbed Adrian’s ear from behind, folding it over.

  Adrian’s mouth tightened and his eyes sparkled. Then he did muss James’ hair. James grinned fiercely, “Oh, come on, then,” and he reached to flatten both of Adrian’s ears. As he did, he said, “Girl.”

  Adrian reached for James’ head and the two soldiers fell to wrestling, laughing and snarling at the same time. I thought someone should act as referee, so I stood and said, “Now, boys, I want a nice clean fight,” as they rolled from the couch to the floor.

  I said, “And I think you should take off the rest of your uniforms.” They stopped and looked up at me. Then I remembered that, although I had fixed my hair and refreshed my makeup, I wasn’t wearing any underwear.