by Shandi Boyes
I try to reply. I can’t. I’m too breathless, and the prompts of my body are no longer under my command. They’ve been handed to the man responsible for its awakening, the one I’d stop at nothing to protect as fiercely as he does me. The one I’ll never stop loving.
“I love you, Isaac.”
The growl he releases about my declaration of love has my thighs clamping around his ears. It jolts my body, lighting up every inch of me. Like the sensation could get any more brilliant, in the blink of an eye, the crown of his cock is bracing at the entrance of my pussy. He takes his time preparing me, teasing me so much, the urge to be filled by him has me frantic.
“Please, Isaac. I can’t wait a second longer.”
I call out when he swipes his cock’s head across my clit. “You didn’t come, so I need to prep you, or you could tear.”
“I don’t care. I want you.”
“I can’t hurt you, Isabelle.” He notches in the first inch of his cock before pulling it back out. “You’re still swollen from last night, and you struggle taking all of me as it is.” He pushes back in again, two extra inches this time. “You feel so good. So fucking tight. Wet. Mine.” We moan in sync when his last word has him pushing in almost half his cock. “That’s it. Work me in, baby,” he encourages when I swivel my hips, coaxing him in further.
When he stretches me so far I feel a burn, I tilt my hips upward, seeking pressure for my clit. Its pleasurable zaps will make up for the pain of taking a man as well-endowed as Isaac.
Forever diligent, Isaac senses my needs without a word needing to spill from my lips. With his eyes on mine, he slides his hand to the area where our bodies are intimately joined. He rolls his thumb over my clit three times. The smoky haze of love in his eyes adds to the spasming sensation overtaking the pain. He knows my body so well, soon nothing but the sprint to climax is on my mind.
“Eyes, Isabelle,” Isaac commands when they begin to taper.
When they pop back open, my chest begins to heave as mesmerizing zap after mesmerizing zap surges through me. I call out his name as my body brutally jerks through its fourth orgasm in not even twelve hours.
Once I’ve returned from hysteria, Isaac rolls his hips, sinking deeper into me. The friction is now delicious instead of painful. There’s nothing between us. No pain. No resistance. He can fuck me as wildly as he wants, and he won’t face an ounce of defiance. I’m at his complete mercy, both in the bedroom and outside of it.
He rocks into me on repeat, his strokes rhythmic and perfect. They have me chasing my next release quickly. When he tilts my hips higher, giving him unrestricted access to my throbbing sex, the coils low in my stomach tighten. Within seconds, my moans are overtaking the creaks of the mattress he’s pinning me to.
“Oh god…” I pant through the tingles racing up my spine.
Isaac’s feral grunts match mine when I raise my leg high on his hip so we can harmonize our rocks. “Fuck, Isabelle.”
He fucks me faster—harder—ramming inches upon inches of his glorious cock inside of me. As he screws me senseless, his eyes burn into my soul. They gobble up every morsel of my being after brilliantly unraveling.
“This is why I need you naked for every discussion we have. You’re so open and raw, Isabelle. So fucking beautiful.” The truth in his tone adds to the heat teeming between us. It has me wet all over—from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. “You were built to be fucked by me. To be claimed by only me.”
“Yesss…” I hiss out in a long purr. “You and me, forever.”
Isaac’s sexy growl vibrates through my body, heightening my senses even more. Each precise stroke of his cock already has the fiery heat in my stomach amplifying, much less the words he speaks between each one. “Then give me what I need, baby. Let it go. I want to feel you quivering around me, to have you milking me of my spawn.”
As a delighted shiver wreaks havoc with my body, I lock my eyes with Isaac’s. His alluring unique gray irises give me the final push I need to cross the finish line for the second time today. I still as shockwaves of devastation coat my skin with a fine layer of sweat. My orgasm is so intense, it’s scary. I’m spiraling out of control, incapable of speaking or moving.
Fortunately, Isaac has no qualms handling brain-dead idiots. He continues pounding into me, his mouthwatering pumps prolonging the sensation overwhelming me. I’m almost immobile before three little words pull me back from the depths of a woman almost comatose from exhaustion.
“I love you.”
Isaac isn’t as reluctant about expressing his feeling as he once was, but it’s still rare to hear those words come out of his mouth. I treasure every one of them, so for the next three hours, I do precisely that.
15
Isaac
Families aren’t always created by blood.
* * *
“Good morning, Isabelle. How did you sleep?”
Isabelle spits a mouthful of minty foam into the vanity sink before pivoting around to face me. Her face is still crinkled from the pillow she slept on for hours after exhausting me of cum, and her hair is a mess, but she’s still the most entrancing woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
The dress shirt I wore yesterday rides up high on her luscious thighs, her face is void of makeup, and she’s clearly exhausted from my early awakening, but not a single man in the hemisphere could look at her and not get hard. That’s how ravishing Isabelle is.
She ignores my question, instead asking one of her own. “How is this fair? I wake up looking like this, and you wake up looking like that.”
Isabelle stops scrubbing her teeth, so she can drink in my casually-clad frame without hindrance. Since I wanted her to sleep, I took Callie to the park, meaning I switched my suit for white-washed jeans and a casual t-shirt. With rain falling earlier this morning, I kicked off my shoes and drenched socks in the foyer, leaving me barefoot. The man standing before her now doesn’t emulate the man I want my competitors to see, but since it is her, the woman I love, I’m not worried. She’s seen me at my worst, yet she still stands at my side, forever supporting me.
Isabelle snaps out of her trance-like state when her eyes collide with the clock on the wall. “Shit, we’re going to miss our flight. We better hurry.”
My hand shoots out to seize her wrist when she dumps her toothbrush into her makeup bag before attempting to dart past me. “I organized for us to fly home tomorrow morning.” When panic flares through her eyes, I assure her, “Don’t worry, we’ll be home long before your shift starts.”
“We’re flying home tomorrow?” She strives to keep alarm out of her voice and miserably fails. “Why?”
Smugness radiates out of me when I mutter, “You looked tired. I wanted you to rest.”
I don’t know who Isabelle learned her steely glare from, but she should give him a pat on the back. She has the arched-brow-narrowed-eyes look down to a T.
Her chest thrusts up and down in quick succession when I murmur, “I may have also wanted you to myself for a few hours.”
“You sent Callie home without us?” Both disappointment and excitement ring in her tone, but shock is the loudest of them all.
I shake my head. “Not yet. She’ll stay with us today before having a sleepover with Catherine tonight. Only one of my clubs is suitable for minors, although it will still be another thirty years before Callie can step foot inside it.” My threat carries no heat, even with me wishing it did.
A vein in Isabelle’s neck works overtime as she fights to leash her excitement. “We’re going to one of your clubs?” When I nod, the fine hairs on her arms bristle with anticipation. “Which one?”
I don’t respond to her question. She’s acutely aware of my answer as her eyes are locked on my crotch, which is struggling to contain my erection. I devoured her for hours this morning, both needy and covetous, but the look she’s giving me now makes it seem as if her greedy pussy didn’t suck me dry of cum only hours ago.
Tension floods me as I gr
owl, “Don’t look at me like that, Isabelle, or we’ll never leave this room.”
The thrill of the hunt scorches my veins when she munches on her bottom lip, praying it will hide her mumbled, “Please.”
The scent of her arousal already has me on edge. I’ve never smelled anything so erotic. I’m so close to pretending Callie isn’t waiting for Isabelle in the living area, holding a tray of pancakes she helped make. I would if this wasn’t the commencement of Callie’s bid to make Isabelle her mother.
We didn’t just tackle the jungle gym at the park across from our hotel this morning. We faced much bigger issues, the most resounding, Callie’s slip of the word ‘Daddy’ for the second time. She was panicked she’d be in trouble but was quick to act like she didn’t say anything. It was only after I assured her it was fine did she relax.
Callie is not yet four, but she’s extremely smart. She had no choice but to grow up fast in the environment she was born into. Her intellect is the reason she learned quickly that Isabelle isn’t her competition. She loves Isabelle as she does me, it just took her a few months to understand we have the ability of loving her and each other without losing the importance of the words I’m still reluctant to share.
I love Isabelle. My feelings for her are something I’ve never experienced before, but they remind me of every mistake I’ve ever made. I plan to fix the errors I’ve made, and today will be the commencement of that. It started with the three little words I whispered to Isabelle when she was in the throes of ecstasy, and I’m hopeful it will end just as sweetly.
When I drag my finger up Isabelle’s arm, her outward appearance gives no indication she’s affected by my touch, but her shallow pants and the bristling of the fine hairs on her arm give away her deceit. She’s affected by my touch as much now as she was when she bumped into me at the airport. She just doesn’t want to admit to the hold I have over her.
The delicious scent of Isabelle’s arousal filters in the air when I brush my lips on the shell of her ear. “Get dressed, then meet us outside. Callie has a surprise waiting for you.” I dip my finger into the band of her panties. “Wear a dress but get rid of these. I want your pussy bare and waiting for me when I’m ready for it.”
Isabelle tremors before nodding. It should appease my need to control every aspect of her life, but I’ve always found her submissiveness addictive. One abiding demand has me forever chasing another.
“Give them to me now. I’ll keep them in a safe place in case you need them.” She won’t need them, but I don’t mind pretending I’m not an overbearing ogre when it comes to her.
My nostrils flare when Isabelle opens my shirt enough I can see the lace panties she’s wearing. They are steel gray, and since they’re drenched, they are clinging to the folds of her pussy. If I’m not mistaken, they’re identical to the panties she wore the first time we slept together in my jet. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen them, so I could be mistaken.
My intuition is proven spot-on when Isabelle says, “I called Scout earlier to request a second jet. There’s an immense amount of power in becoming a multimillionaire. Not only did he grant my request, he didn’t snicker when I demanded it have a bed installed instead of the desks you and Cormack generally fly with.”
She slides the damp material down her thighs, bunches them up, then stuffs them into the top pocket of my shirt. “Shower quickly, Mr. Holt, as I’d hate for you to miss a minute of the activities I’ve planned for us today.”
Suspicion thickens my veins as quickly as the scent of her arousal thickened my cock. “If you had planned for us to stay longer, why did you pretend we’re late for our flight?”
While snagging a pair of jeans out of her suitcase, she flashes me a flirty grin. “Because it’s nice knowing things the man who knows everything doesn’t.”
My face goes deadpanned. “Was that even English?”
Isabelle’s smile is enough to bend the knee of the most powerful man. I’m confident of this as mine are close to buckling. “You know everything…” Although she’s not technically asking a question, I lift my chin. “… except what we’re doing today.”
Her smugness takes a step back when I say, “I bet I can find out within thirty seconds.”
She angles her head with a defiance I’m being nurtured to love. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Her mouth falls open when I growl, “Test me, Isabelle.”
I can tell she’s turned on by my threat. I can also smell it, but she plays down the hold I have over her. “If you do, watch March 5 be pushed back another six months.”
After tugging her jeans up her legs, sans underwear, she hotfoots it to the door of our suite, leaving me with a raging hard-on. Isabelle is always beautiful, but when confidence is beaming out of her, she’s ravishingly gorgeous.
“Excuse me, Roger…” Isabelle scoots to the edge of the backseat Callie’s car seat is hogging to meet Roger’s gaze in the rearview mirror, “… you went the wrong way. You were supposed to take a left at the last intersection.”
Her neck cranks my way when I disclose, “I requested an alternate route.” I dip my chin, instructing Roger to continue on the route he was traveling before shifting my focus to Isabelle and Callie. “When I noticed the time, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to show you something I’ve been endeavoring to explain the past six months. This will make cue cards unnecessary.” After winking at the two sets of eyes peering at me in shock, I return mine to Roger. “Stay a few spots back. I don’t want her to spot us.”
Although we’re not getting around in a stretch limousine like Cormack and Harlow, our pimped-out Mercedes-Benz GLE will still be noticeable in this district. The tree-lined streets give the illusion of safety, but the bars on every lower-level window reveals that isn’t the case. It isn’t as rough as Harlem, but it’s a very close second.
Isabelle’s warm breaths tickle my neck when she asks, “Who are we visiting?”
I ease the curiosity popped between her brows by nudging my head to the left. We’ve made it in just enough time. A Maserati Quattroporte is pulling into a set of brownstones on the outskirts of New York.
Isabelle intakes a sharp breath when Henry Gottle, Sr. climbs the stairs of a building three spots up from us. I don’t need to offer an introduction. Isabelle is well-rehearsed on who he is as he’s been on the FBI’s watch list for as many years as Isabelle has been born.
As he does every day at precisely eleven in the morning, Henry knocks on the door three times. When his request for entrance is denied, he slides an unmarked envelope into the mail slot, places his hand on the warped wooden door for a little over three seconds, then returns to his car.
Isabelle waits for Henry’s chauffeur-driven sports car and four deep security-amped procession to merge into traffic before shifting her eyes to me. “Who was he visiting?”
Callie answers Isabelle on my behalf. “Na-noo!”
Callie waves in excitement as if Katarina can see her through the industrially dark tint of our SUV. She knows who Katarina is because they met during the delay of Callie’s sale. When I was arrested, Vladimir was reluctant to continue with Callie’s sale as negotiated. He offered three girls as her replacement—none of which shared the same bloodline as him. He didn’t want DNA proof of the monster he is while the FBI was breathing down both our necks.
It took intense negotiations, and an increase in the sale price for me to secure the original asset he was selling. Part of our negotiations was that Callie was to be placed into the care of an intermediate party until the heat died down. It was a risk placing Katarina in the Popovs’ radar, but it strengthened Vladimir’s belief that I wanted Callie for unfathomable reasons.
Name one mafia association you know that doesn’t dabble in the sex trafficking conglomerate?
Henry was furious I went straight to Katarina to ask for her help. Katarina was quick to remind him he lost the right to influence her life when he left her pregnant with his son at seventeen—a son who mi
ght have been killed if I didn’t step in to help a stranger.
Henry, Jr. and I didn’t meet under normal circumstances. He was surrounded by over half a dozen men branding machetes, stakes, and knives capable of dissecting more than a finger. They had a grudge, but instead of taking it out on the person responsible, they went after his namesake—a college freshman who had recently located to the area.
Back then, I didn’t interfere in other people’s business. Unless it had a direct impact on me or the empire I was striving to get off the ground, it was not my place to intervene.
Something stopped me that night. Henry was clearly outnumbered, he was unarmed, and even with him telling the men he had not seen or heard from his dad in over seventeen years, they continued to approach him.
It was foolish of me to step in, but two against an army had to be better than one, right? It wasn’t my best thought-out plan, but at the end of the day, both Henry and I survived. Henry suffered three stab wounds to his stomach, and I had four broken ribs and a large gash extending from my hairline to my collarbone, but we lived to tell the tale.
That night was also the commencement of my infamous reputation. When word circulated that Henry and I had defended ourselves against eight of Col Petretti’s best goons—including his eldest son, Roberto—we became untouchable. We were feared but also respected.
Henry took the praise humbly. I fed off it like a drug addict. The more I gained, the more I craved, so you can imagine how crazy the hype got when news of our triumph reached the holy grail in the mafia underworld.
Henry, Sr.’s sanction isn’t restricted to his ethnicity. He’s not the kingpin of the Russian or Italian Mafia, he is the Mafia kingpin. You can’t get higher than him, so not only did Col pay attention when Henry, Sr. arrived in his unknown town one hundred miles from Ravenshoe, he commiserated when Henry, Jr. and I were knighted by a king he’d never trump.
