The man sucked cock like a pro. In appreciation, Alexander didn’t hold back and unloaded down Eric’s throat when he felt like it—which thanks to a mouth as hot as Hades—was about ten tongue-strokes in. The man not only took it all but cleaned up after himself, licking and sucking every last drop.
Alexander pushed himself further up the bed while Eric settled back on his knees, his eyes gazing directly into his, the brave soul. If Eric were Alexander’s sub, he’d have an issue with such directness. Instead, he rather enjoyed the man’s green eyes shining at him with such confidence, despite the smirk—which he really would handle. He hadn’t taken a man in a while. Maybe it was time to end that streak.
“Good morning.” Rebecca leaned against the doorframe, her wet hair twisted into a long braid. “Mind if I join you?” She dropped her towel.
Rebecca squirmed underneath him, his cock buried root deep in her. She mewled like a kitten, the sound lighting him up more than a shot of the finest whiskey. “Have you ever thought about Eric being inside you?”
She visibly swallowed. “Yes.”
He turned to look at Eric, lying beside them on the bed. His cock, a vicious purple, pointed northward. “Have you ever thought of me being inside you?”
Eric’s eyes fired. “Every second since I met you.”
He laughed. “Now there’s an answer.” He glanced down. His laughter didn’t decrease that erection of his one bit. He had made the man watch as he took Rebecca to the edge. He really was a sadistic son of a bitch, though Eric’s psych profile, which he’d been studying of late, showed how much he craved exactly that.
Alexander pulled his cock out of Rebecca and leaned back. He stared down at her as she nodded her head enthusiastically.
He chuckled. “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“Yes. Whatever it is.”
He’d been holding her at the brink. He wanted her first orgasm this morning to blow the roof off, and he knew exactly what she needed for that—denial until writhing in near pain.
“Eric.” He dipped his head toward Rebecca and made room for him. “Make her come. With your mouth.”
There was a term Alexander particularly hated—an eager beaver. He now understood the sentiment, however, as Eric was between Rebecca’s legs in two seconds. He also bent over, putting that perfect ass on display and in offering.
Alexander rested his hand on the man’s back. Eric could offer, but he’d decide when and where. Instead, Alexander yanked open the man’s knees and earned a long, groan from him—from anticipation, perhaps—and settled himself between them. He then leaned over him, trapping his own cock against Eric’s ass crack. He pressed down, and Eric flexed. The man had some glute muscles.
He growled in Eric’s ear. “When I say.”
Eric nodded and relaxed that squeeze that had felt amazing, but unrequested and Alexander’s tolerance for topping was nil. He pulled back and placed his hand on Eric’s neck.
“Make her come.”
Eric’s head dipped and Alexander knew exactly when his mouth latched onto Rebecca’s flesh. She cried out and a needy groan rumbled from Eric. He let the man service her for long minutes, keeping his hand on the man’s neck. He ran his fingers along the cords of muscle there, the ends of the man’s hair teasing his skin. The younger man had taken care of himself, and while Alexander found other qualities more important than looks, he took a long moment to appreciate the guy’s physique. Smooth, tanned skin glided over taut muscles as he worked Rebecca’s pussy over with his mouth. The man’s whole body seemed to get into the act, slight undulations and movements that had Alexander itching to touch—and touch later, he would.
Rebecca didn’t take long to pitch into an orgasm, evidenced by her back bowing, her hands clasping at Eric’s head. Between the wet flesh sounds, Eric’s grunts and Rebecca’s high-pitched whimpers, his own cock wept with need.
Grabbing a fistful of Eric’s hair, he urged the man to back off. It was his turn. “Lie on top of her. Do not penetrate.” The man climbed up Rebecca’s body and Alexander wasted no time positioning himself so he could push Eric’s body further into her, trapping his cock against her belly. The man’s neck fell into Rebecca’s neck, smearing wet on her skin. For Rebecca’s sake, Alexander, his front now covering Eric’s body, was careful to keep most of his weight off them, his arms and shoulders muscles knotting with strain. He could hold himself here for an hour if it meant he could feel all that male muscle under him, see Rebecca’s face twist in pleasure.
He bent his neck so he could take her mouth. By the way her long moans vibrated against his lips, Eric’s pelvis was hitting the right spot.
Alexander grasped a fistful of Rebecca’s glorious hair and tilted her head so he could take her mouth deeper, the position forcing Eric to bury his face in her neck. All that hard male flesh felt good underneath him. Coupled with Rebecca’s soft lips and mewls in his mouth, his body filled with a serenity he hadn’t felt for far, far too long. An overwhelming need to keep them close, to keep them here, followed with a conviction he could no longer ignore. They were his.
“Come for me again,” he said into her mouth. “Both of you.”
Eager? Hell, she cried out against his lips and Eric latched onto the side of her neck as Alexander felt him shudder underneath him. The two of them earned those orgasms. They deserved everything for taking what he dished out. Hell, he wished he could spend the day in this room because he was just getting started.
30
“But I can still do it. Maybe you need two people on site?” Rebecca’s hand grew a little numb from clutching her phone to her ear all morning. She’s waited too long to call the editor of her best client, Travel & Style magazine. She’d waited too long to call anyone until now.
“I’m sorry, Anne. We needed copy yesterday. You were MIA and I had to get someone rolling on this. Style and People and a dozen others already have writers on the ground feeding their web pages with this debut. Everyone’s been waiting for those bungalows over the water to show up in the Caribbean, though why they haven’t cropped up everywhere before now, I’ll never know.”
“I decided to take a little vacation.” Rebecca chewed the side of her fingernail. She’d have loved to cover that story. Who wouldn’t want to spend a few nights under a thatched hut, staring at pretty fish under the glass floor?
This wasn’t good, not good at all. Her stomach roiled with nerves.
“Well, good for you. You deserve it. Listen, if anything comes up, I’ll be sure to call you again first. Just answer your phone, okay?”
She ended the call, determined to stay glued to her phone for the rest of her life. That Caribbean resort debut was the second assignment she’d discovered she’d lost, all because she was playing tourist herself—or rather playing love slave captured by two pirates.
Here she thought life was just swimming along fine. Bills were paid automatically through her checking account, and her mail had been forwarded to her. Even her aloe plant was being watered by a neighbor. If she didn’t return to Philadelphia for six months, everything would be fine—not.
Instead, for the last two days, she’d been in Alexander’s room, nude most of the time, coming her head off—or not—depending on Alexander’s mood. Eric, too. The man’s appetite hadn’t waned one bit in forty years. And, all the while she was losing jobs and, it seemed, her way.
At least she’d missed Marston’s texts wanting to know if she’d meet again. It was their pattern. She’d disappear. He’d find her. And, now? The mystery of her being anywhere near Alexander would be too much for him. Those calls and texts she’d continue to ignore.
She turned a corner and nearly plowed over two young women. One gasped and stepped backward. She flushed pink, her big brown eyes blinking. “Oh, sorry, ma’am.”
Ma’am? “I’m fine.” She clasped her arm to reassure her. The girl coyly dipped her head before grasping the arm of her equally beautiful friend. Her long blonde hair flowed and swayed like w
aves of gold down her back as she sashayed down the hallway with her friend in four-inch heels, because that’s just what women wore here. Four-fricking-inch heels were everywhere, all on women who’d probably put themselves through law school—by modeling high fashion, of course—because everyone here also had high powered careers. They worked for think tanks, nonprofits changing the world, and members of the U.S. Congress—or were members of Congress.
She adjusted her plain, knit sweater. For the tenth time, she silently questioned Alexander. How could he want to be with her when all this gorgeous, younger female flesh floated in and out of Accendos like it was a casting call for a talent agency?
She didn’t have time for these distractions. She had two articles already researched and placed with Coastal magazine—if she would sit her butt in the chair and write them even though their deadline wasn’t until after Thanksgiving. That would get her enough money to last until year’s end, which was fast approaching.
She peered down at her phone. She had contacts—lots of them. Who should she call? Would make her feel she had something to say, didn’t care what she looked like, or how young she wasn’t, because vacation was over. Once the holidays were here, according to Eric, she had to get ready to face all of Club Accendos. “All” apparently was hundreds of people. Great, more BPs as she named the “beautiful people” scurrying about, playing, laughing, looking so relaxed, looking like they belonged here.
She continued down the hallway she’d found herself in. She always thought better moving. She turned the corner and came face to face with an archway that led to a conservatory. She swiveled her head to peer back up the hallway. Where the hell was she?
“Miss Beaumont, may I help you?” A man in a black suit stepped forward.
How did he know her name? “I’m fine. Just thinking.” She just needed a minute to retrace her steps.
He nodded once and continued along his way.
She was being stupidly rebellious to brush off his directions. It’s just Accendos had so many staff—all of whom knew her name. Miss Beaumont this. Miss Beaumont that. She couldn’t take a deep breath without someone running over to “help” her as if she was some decrepit senior citizen.
She studied the carpeting. Get a grip. Everything is okay.
Rebecca ran the mantra she’d had to adopt in recent days in her head over and over. She took in a long, cleansing breath and pushed air from her lungs, an attempt to exit any negative feelings.
I am loved. I am fine.
She honed in on details around her. On either side of the arch, tall potted palms in ornate brass planters waved slightly under vents overhead—marked by ornate brass grates. Tall, stained glass windows of milky white, blue and green lined the room and allowed muted sunshine to stream inside. White scrolled iron benches were scattered among ceramic pots and long rectangular plant holders overflowing with flowering vines and tall ficus trees.
“Of course, he has a winter garden, too.”
“I believe if the city would allow it, he’d have a bird aviary, as well.”
Rebecca startled and turned. Sarah rose from a chaise in the corner, setting a heavy, ancient-looking book down as she delicately swung her legs over the edge to stand. She smoothed down a black pencil skirt and strode forward. “Hello, Rebecca. Welcome to the Palm Garden.”
Of course it had a name.
“It’s beautiful.” It was, and she really needed to start seeing what was right instead of what was wrong. “Sorry to disturb you.” She indicated the book that curiously looked like a law reference book. “Catching up on some reading?”
“The Rise and Fall of Machiavelli. I read it once a year to remind myself of certain … things.”
“Oh. Good plan.” What else does one say to a woman who helped run a BDSM club and studied Italian political philosophers? That she herself preferred People Magazine?
Sarah’s cocked her head. “You look lost.”
“I am.” She half laughed. “It’s silly, really, but I seem to keep losing my way.” She swiveled her head as if her gaze might land on something familiar.
“Easy to do here.” She hooked her arm around Rebecca’s and began leading her out the archway. “Where can I take you?”
“If you could just point me in the direction of Alexander’s office, I’d be grateful.”
“I’ll do one better. I’ll show you.”
And that’s how she ended up being delivered like a lost sheep to Alexander’s office. He’d laughed at hearing she’d gotten lost—again. She didn’t return his mirth, but instead went to work. With work, she could ignore the niggling feeling that she might never find her way around Accendos—and that perhaps it was a sign she didn’t belong here.
31
Clarisse, Alexander’s assistant, clicked across the hardwood floor to Alexander’s desk. Rebecca shifted on her hips so she could see through the archway of her office nook into his office. Clarisse did what she always did, smiled at Alexander, handed him a thick stack of folders and stood there in her perfect pencil skirt to see what else he might need.
How was she to get any work done like this?
I am grateful. I am fine. I am loved. I love.
She took in a long, cleansing breath and pushed air from her lungs. Let it go.
Clarisse, in all her leggy, willowy, young, blondness, bent over his desk. He stared at the folder, to the exact point where she pointed. Her pencil skirt stretched over her ass. He kept his eyes downcast but still, the woman was bent over in a pencil skirt.
I am fine. I am loved.
His low rumbling voice murmured something. Paper rustled under his hands. His executive chair creaked under his shifting weight.
I am … in desperate need of a walk.
Rebecca slapped the laptop shut and rose. She ran her hands down her batik peasant skirt, comfortable and cheerful, but not a pencil skirt. Maybe she’d head out to a mall or wherever the hell they sell those tight-fitting skirts in this town, and from the looks of Sarah and Clarisse’s wardrobes alone, they sold a lot of them.
She rounded the corner from her nook to his office. “Hi, I’m going to take a walk. I hear there are some nice shops on Wisconsin Avenue.” She ran her hands down her plain white cotton t-shirt. “I could use a change of clothes.”
His blue eyes lifted to her and her heart nearly stopped. Had he always done that to her? Yes.
“Don’t be silly. Sarah is coming back this afternoon with her wardrobe selections for you.”
Oh, right. Sarah had mentioned that when she deposited Rebecca with Alexander. That was one answer why Sarah always looked so put together. D.C.’s most desired wardrobe consultant extraordinaire was to outfit her because every need Rebecca had could be met inside these walls.
“I need to get out. Come with me? You’re working too much.” She perched herself on his desk.
He raked his gaze up and down her torso. His large hands reached around her waist and pulled. Papers, an old-fashioned desk blotter, and a stapler, were pushed off to the side as he slid her to the center of the desk. Parting her knees, he moved in closer.
“What’s going on?” Those steely blue eyes honed in on her like a laser.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His hand moved down to her thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the inside of her legs. “You’re worried about Thanksgiving.”
Oh, right. The guy could see into her mind, her desires, her fricking soul. “Really, a hundred people are coming?”
“114.” His eyes lit up as if this was a good thing.
“That many, huh?”
“If you’d rather not … ”
“No. You do this every year. People expect it. You’re not canceling because of me.”
“I wouldn’t cancel. I will let it go on, and you and I can go somewhere else. Easy.”
“Easy.” Yes, everything was so easy for Alexander, except not. He lived a strange dichotomy. If he wasn’t driving her and Eric mad with lust, he worked
—constantly.
“I don’t remember you loving large groups,” she said.
“I don’t, but I don’t like the thought of someone I care about not having a place to go.”
Did he have to be so perfect? She put her hands on either side of his neck. She loved the warmth there, and it usually calmed her to feel him under her hands. “No. I will be fine.” She grasped his wrist. “Let’s go outside. It’s nice out, not too cold, and the sun’s out.”
He removed her handhold on his wrist, turned her palm up and laid a chaste kiss in the center. “In a bit. I’ll meet you. You’re perfectly safe in the garden.”
Safe. He meant walled in. Before she was “so safe,” she’d never felt unsafe. It was as if some amorphous threat existed she needed to worry about—something she’d never been aware of before. It was creeping her out.
He cocked his head. “An hour. I was away for a long time and the work piled up.”
She shrugged and attempted to jump down but he held her fast.
“Rebecca. No one is more important to me right now than you. Know that. I have people counting on me, however. People like us.”
Us. People who lived and loved so freely it scared others witless, made them seem less controllable, and oh how people loved to control others. Like the Wynters.
“If you need to go out, I understand. Find Eric. Just don’t leave without telling me.” His eyes were too serious.
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Alexander’s lips. “I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Yes, work.” His hand moved up her thighs, fingers crept around the elastic of her imported lace thong, courtesy of his vast network of minions who scooted up and down hallways at all hours of the day and night. Oh. He’d yanked them so hard, they ripped.
She gasped, a gush of fluid gathering between her legs. Traitor. Her body that hadn’t responded sexually to anyone in so long reacted to his touch like a bolt of lightning splitting a tree in two.
Invincible (Elite Doms of Washington Book 6) Page 14