Invincible (Elite Doms of Washington Book 6)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  “There she is. Greedy. Shameless. Mine.” He cupped her chin and took her mouth in full possession. She groaned.

  The history of these two was going to kill him. They played as if they’d been at this for decades.

  Alexander broke the kiss, turned his head and locked eyes with him. Eric flattened his palms against the wall. Had he said something aloud? Maybe it’d force a punishment. Hell, force anything. He was tired of blending into the woodwork.

  “Rebecca.” Alexander turned his attention to him—finally. “Go to Eric.”

  She gave him a soft smile and moved to stand in front of Eric. “Hello,” she mouthed.

  He cocked his head in answer.

  Alexander ran his palm down her hair. “She’s beautiful, yes?” He circled his large hands to palm each breast.

  “Yes.” His voice was as rough as if he’d been screaming at the top of his lungs for hours—or over here dying of sexual frustration.

  Alexander grasped her shoulders and turned her so Eric stared down at the back of her head. “Two men,” he said. “That’s what you want.”

  Eric didn’t know if she ever answered because his brain slammed shut when her ass met the top of his thighs and trapped his cock at the small of her back. At least someone was touching him.

  “Don’t you dare come.” Alexander smiled at her and then raised his gaze to him. “Either one of you.”

  Eric gritted his teeth and gave a tight nod of his head.

  21

  Choked moans bubbled up in Eric’s throat as she ground against him like a cat in heat, needing to rub herself against a hard body.

  “You teasing him, mo rúnsearc?” Alexander tweaked her nipples.

  Rebecca ground against Eric in response. That thick steel digging into her spine felt so good. She knew Alexander was more responsible for his erection, but she could enjoy it, too.

  “I don’t mind,” Eric gritted out. “Anyone this beautiful should never feel anything but worship.” His lips fell to nuzzle the top of her head.

  She twisted her neck to peer up at him. He did not say that. Pretty words from a pretty face. No, he was more rugged than that, though his green eyes shone with firelight. Why was she assessing his looks? Maybe because his cock was pressed hard and hot against her, and she really, really needed someone in this room to impale her with one soon.

  Alexander chuckled at her writhing. “That’s right, move your body all over his. Let him feel that skin, get close to that ass of yours he can’t have.”

  For one long minute, he regarded her body, from toes to head. His detached, dominant stance never failed to turn her into a puddle of brazen need.

  He kicked open her legs, and she gasped. Now open to the air, her clit throbbed. A slight breeze across it could make her come, but she wouldn’t. Not until he allowed it.

  He pressed against her, which in turn sank her further against Eric. Eric bent his knees, and his cock slipped between her legs but didn’t breach. No one was getting what they wanted, except for Alexander.

  Alexander lowered his head as if to kiss her but instead moved his face over her shoulder. Wet sucking sounds filled her ear as he took Eric’s mouth, and she squeezed her thighs together to capture his cock, giving him more sensation. A long groan from Eric rumbled through her body.

  Alexander broke his kiss and then glanced down at Rebecca. Her hands rested on his rib cage, on all that hard muscle. Another unfair advantage of men. No matter their age, those muscles, if used, remained.

  She let her hands drift down to a cock she knew well—so well. Grasping the root of his erection, she pulled upward until the flared head crossed her fingers. He grasped her both wrists and tutted at her. “Bad brat.” He yanked her arms upward until she touched Eric’s hair.

  “Hold on to his neck.”

  Eric’s mouth latched on to her skin under her ear, as she dug her fingers into his hair at the base of his neck.

  Alexander’s mouth took her breast. His fingers slipped down to rub circles around her clit, but not nearly close enough. Every time she undulated, trying to get some relief, he moved his fingers. The man knew his way around a body.

  How many hours did they tease her breasts, her pussy, her neck? Between Alexander’s machinations and Eric’s mouth kissing and nibbling her neck while his cock slid torturously along her slick seam, she descended into an erotic fugue of aching longing and lost all concept of time.

  She gasped as Alexander bent down and scooped up her legs.

  “Oh, please.” A beg fell from her lips. “Please, fuck me.”

  “No.”

  “Please, please.” She pitched her hips forward. Eric’s pants filled her ear as their bodies moved against one another. Her skin was slick with sweat, and her clit throbbed in frustration. “I’ll do anything.”

  “I know you will. Tell me why I should give you any part of this.” He pitched his hips forward so his cock at least met her crotch.

  “Because I’ve paid enough.” She could barely understand what she was saying, but she must have used the magic words. Alexander pulled her forward enough that Eric’s cock, no longer trapped by her thighs, resumed its imprisonment against the small of her back. Alexander lined up his cock and drove into her in one harsh thrust, pressing her violently into Eric. Finally. She was so wet, so slick, nothing stopped him from fully seating himself inside her. There was nothing—nothing—that could feel better than this. To be filled with Alexander, his hands harshly digging into the meat of her ass, was as close to heaven as she’d ever get.

  A slight worry arose she might be hurting Eric with her fingers digging into his neck, his cock once again trapped against her back being pushed and pulled. But as Alexander’s hands held her up, taking some weight off Eric, he continued to grind against her back.

  Thank you Goddess for all that yoga she’d kept up, as her legs begged to be split wider, her spine bent more. She lowered her gaze. She loved watching his cock disappear into her and slide back out wet with her juice. Alexander had been right. She was shameless, and he was the only man who’d ever loved her for it.

  He fucked her long and slow not letting her come until she begged without words, ancient, wailing sounds breaking from her throat. Still, he didn’t let her come or allow Eric any relief. Eric finally sagged against the wall, and Alexander had no choice but to let them both sink down into a puddle of frustrated flesh.

  Alexander’s voice broke through as soon as she caught her breath. “Now we go to bed where I’m going to take you again—and you will service Eric.”

  22

  This morning Rebecca had woken, sandwiched between two hard male bodies in a king-sized bed in a room she didn’t recognize. She’d been drained—beyond spent from being taken by Alexander several times. In the night, they’d gone through both condoms. She didn’t need birth control, not anymore, but Alexander had made Eric roll them on him. Watching that—twice— had built her need to an impossible level.

  She had worked over Eric’s cock with her hand. He hadn’t been allowed to come inside her—or Alexander—who she suspected was Eric’s preference. Rather, she’d been allowed to fist him to completion, carnal relief crossing his face. Only then was she allowed to come.

  Alexander was a sadist. That wasn’t something she’d known before, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. She wasn’t afraid of him. Intimidated, perhaps, but not scared because he’d never do anything to harm her. Sure, he’d reduce her to nothing more than a pleasure hound, but she was safe—at least for now.

  Or, at least until she walked into this coffee shop.

  She was right to come here. She’d had to. In a way it was an errand, as she’d explained to Alexander. She hadn’t lied. She’d merely left some things out.

  With a long deep breath, Rebecca swung open the door and stepped inside. Marston didn’t stand when he spotted her.

  She didn’t wait for his invitation and sat down in the chair opposite him.

  “Co
ffee?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. What do you want?”

  A waitress set a cup of coffee before her and two creams, precisely what she would have ordered—if she had the stomach for any more caffeine. “Let me know if you need anything else.” The woman smiled down at her.

  Rebecca eyed Marston. “You knew I’d show.”

  “You’re a good girl, Anne.” The arrogant bastard brought his coffee mug to his lips. “Though I’m rather surprised to find you here at all. Imagine seeing your car parked in front—”

  “It’s Rebecca, and my car is new. How did you know it was mine?”

  “Plates are easy to run. So, you are reverting to your old name.”

  She shrugged. “Why do you care?” Sure, he’d been the one to suggest it so many years ago. Now, sitting in this coffee shop, staring at Marston, she wondered how he’d ever managed to convince her of anything. In fact, why had she bothered coming here? She’d almost expunged him from her life.

  “I texted you as a courtesy in case you cared to stop by before I sold. I didn’t expect you to show up without so much as a return message, well … ” He lifted his spoon and dipped it into his coffee. “So. You and Alexander. Again. Seems you forgot we had a deal.”

  “Thirty-eight years ago.”

  “I didn’t realize promises had expiration dates.” He stirred his coffee in lazy circles.

  “Why did you sell to him if you’re holding on to that old grudge?”

  “He tricked me. I didn’t know it was him. Though why I was surprised, I’ll never know.”

  “Can’t you just let things go? Everyone else has.”

  “Is that how you would characterize Alexander? Letting it go? I found him pawing through Charles’ room.”

  Oh, shit. Marston and Alexander had seen each other? Had they talked? Why hadn’t he told her he’d seen the man? Did they compare notes? No, he would have said something if he’d know about her past with Marston. Alexander likely dismissed a Marston sighting as he did so many things that didn’t suit him—shovel it under the priceless oriental carpet and carry on as he wished. That’s what the man did. It’s what made him so formidable.

  “It’s his house now.” She curled her hand around the coffee mug to absorb some of its warmth. “He’s going back to Washington soon so you can drop it. Since you brought up our deal, you were supposed to leave him alone if I did what you asked. I more than kept my side of our bargain.”

  He arched an eyebrow, shook off drops of coffee from the spoon and set it delicately on the napkin beside it. “So how did he take the news … of our deal?”

  Ah, so he’d expected her to tell him about their past. They’d agreed never to speak to anyone about it. Why bring it up now? He wanted to rattle her, that’s why. Her heart bounced up to her throat. She needed to say something before …

  “Unless you didn’t tell him,” he said.

  Great, her hesitation proved his suspicions. What she said next meant everything. Marston sat there like a bulldog waiting for at a chance for another opportunity to wound a foe, like sharing with Alexander the real reasons she had to let him go. If Alexander hadn’t been so steeped in the dismantling of that house and finding letters and wooing her back—for that was definitely what he was doing—he might have found out a great deal about her past with Marston. He had learned her pen name, Anne Broadmoor, that first night over dinner with Eric. At some point, he would learn more. She’d come clean with him first, if she could find the right time.

  She straightened in her seat. “Secrets aren’t kept from Alexander long.”

  He lifted his spoon again and dipped it back into his coffee, that annoying clank-clank-clank of metal against ceramic grating on her nerves. “Then he took the news better than I thought. I’m still standing.”

  Stir, stir went his little spoon. She wanted to hurl it across the room.

  “You going with him?” He glared at her.

  “None of your business.” Why hadn’t she severed all communication with Marston before? Why hadn’t she blocked his number? To think she’d once felt bad for him, having such horrible parents. Had she really thought Marston would change once his mother died? Get some clarity on how resentment can eat you alive? Then again, look at Alexander. Neither of them had let go of the past.

  She reached down for her purse. “Our business is over.”

  “Uh, uh, uh, Rebecca. You should be careful there.”

  His smug face made her skin crawl. That was it. She was going to Washington with Alexander.

  She stood and a long screech of the chair leg caused several patrons to glance at them. “No, you should be careful. Alexander isn’t that penniless college student anymore.”

  “I’m not afraid of Alexander Rockingham.”

  “You should be.”

  In her hurry, her chair bumped the chair of the person behind her. “Pardon me.”

  So what if people saw her with Marston? She could always make up some story about running into him. Regardless, it was time for them to move forward, to leave this place.

  On the drive home she rehearsed what she’d say. She’d beg if necessary. She was going to Washington.

  When she got back to the house, Alexander and Eric were bent over a set of papers that looked like builder’s plans, curling at the edges.

  Eric looked up as soon as she stepped inside the dining room. “Rebecca. Look at this. I found the original house plans in the attic. Did you know there are secret passages in this house?”

  Yes, she did know. Charles had told her the day he’d died because he’d foreseen she might need them. She used them once, during a more desperate time in this house, trying to hide from Marston, Alice, and their incessant talk about Alexander and what he’d wrought. Urgent anxiety churned in her chest. She needed to tell Alexander the truth—about Marston and why she really disappeared. She would. She would … just … the timing was wrong.

  She breathed hard. “Oh? That’s cool. Alexander, does your house in Washington have secret passages?”

  He looked at her curiously.

  “I’d like to go. Soon.” Away from here. Away from this house. Away from Marston. Away from the past before Alexander found out any more. She’d figure out a way to come clean. She only needed to buy some time.

  His face broke into a smile.

  “Eric, you’ll come with us, right?” she asked quickly.

  Eric gave Alexander an unreadable glance. She prayed he would go. Strength in numbers and all that.

  “Of course he’ll come with us,” Alexander said. “When you’re done, Eric, we’ll all go together.”

  Shit. That meant at least a few more days in a fricking house that she hoped never to step foot in again.

  23

  “Good. Yes. I’m leaving keys for you with the Chester Management Company. Guard them with your life.” Eric propped his phone to his ear using his shoulder as he signed the delivery truck manifest. “Thanks, Marilyn. Coming to Connecticut a week before Thanksgiving? I owe you.”

  “I know how you can repay me,” his flirty assistant replied.

  He chuckled. “See you back in London.”

  “When?”

  Good question. There was no way he was going to miss that private jet back to D.C. that was taking Alexander, Rebecca, and by some grace of God, him, tomorrow.

  “See you, M. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  After killing the call, he took one long, last look at the rolling hills, still green in the chilly weather. His breath clouded in front of him. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees since he’d arrived.

  Eric had never worked so hard or so fast as he had the last three days, putting out a 911 to his network to get help. Now, with every painting and portrait crated, every jade egg nestled in jewelry bags in more crates lined with paper cuttings, and other miscellaneous sculptures, he was ready to stop breathing in antique wood scents and the beginnings of mold.

  Alexander seemed in no hurry, and continued to
search for notes and scraps of paper with Charles’ handwriting. Was it wrong Eric was glad they hadn’t found more? Sleeping every night in the same bed as Alexander and Rebecca was crowded enough.

  At first, he’d expected her to bolt. The way she fidgeted, eyed the door, he recognized the wanderlust in her eyes. When you’ve been on the road as much as he and Rebecca had, staying in one place grew uncomfortable. He itched to move himself. He’d not been in one place for more than a week in … forever.

  He turned to go back into the house and came face to face with Rebecca, sitting in a cast iron chair, a thick blanket wrapped around her.

  “Hi.” She laughed. “You looked so deep in thought I didn’t want to interrupt. I needed some fresh air.”

  He understood. “I’m glad we’re leaving tomorrow. Who knew a house could hold so much dust?”

  “Or memories,” he bit out. “Alexander still nose deep in some chest in the attic?”

  She frowned at his bitter tone. She didn’t deserve his restlessness.

  “Sorry for my … mood. Just tired.” He plopped down into a cast iron outdoor chair that would make any 1970’s household proud.

  She reached for his hand. “You’ve been working too hard.” She ran her thumb over his skin, like a lover. “Want to watch the stars again with me tonight?”

  They were lovers and stargazers together, which was the damndest thing. He’d never have imagined he’d feel this close to this elf queen. Alexander had remained a little distant, even remote at times, but she was always there, open arms and heart. She was a rare wild child inside a rather cultivated veneer. He’d not guessed it three days ago.

  “Sure.” He gave her a wink.

  She sucked in a long breath. “So I hate to bring this up, but it might be the last time we’re alone together before we head out. We need to talk about Alexander.”