Their Cartel Princess: The Complete Series: A Dark Reverse Harem Box Set

by Logan Fox

  She blinked hard, her lips pursing before she spoke. “I didn’t know about Sofia,” she said quietly, and then looked down. When her eyes returned to him, those bright, wet tears threatened again. “How could my mother—?”

  But he knew neither of them wanted to know the answer. So he kissed her, and he kissed her hard.

  She went stiff, air hissing past his lips as she gasped in surprise, but then she melted against him. His radio belched out another call sign, but he fumbled with it, unclipped it from his belt, and tossed it onto the table.

  Cora’s hands slid over his chest and gripped the back of his neck, urging him to deepen their kiss.

  Instead, he grabbed her hips, lifted her, and swung around so he could sit in her armchair. She fell on him, almost kneeing him in the groin with her impatience to straddle him. He grabbed her leg, yanked it to the side, and slid his hands down the curves of her body.

  Behind Cora, the radio started up again, but all he could hear was her panting breath in his ear as he hitched her dress up to her belly.

  When he stroked his fingers along her underwear, he groaned at discovering how wet she was for him.

  He jerked down his fly, freeing a hard cock already aching to be inside her. She grabbed his shaft, clumsy in her attempts to guide him inside her. He yanked aside her underwear with his thumb, stroked her slit, and found her opening with the tip of his finger.

  Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ when he thrust into her, but she didn’t make a sound until he began rubbing her clit with his thumb. Then her breath became a pant, and she rocked her hips backward and forward, as awkward as if this was her first time.

  But as soon as he had his hands around her hips, he urged her into a perfect, rocking tempo.

  Fuck, he still couldn’t believe this was happening. Probably because it still felt so wrong. He’d been her bodyguard since she was eight, and back then it had just been a job.

  A particularly annoying one, at times. Especially when she became tired and cranky, here nine o’ clock at night.

  But as Cora grew older, as horse rides had replaced the jungle gym, as their conversations had transformed from movies to philosophy…he’d slowly fallen in love with her.

  And the worst part was, he hadn’t even realized it until the night he thought he’d lost her forever.

  Sure, he’d kissed her before that. But that had felt like pure lust and nothing more.

  When her father had torn her out of the stable that night, wrestling with her when she’d tried to come back for him…

  The terror in her eyes had made the agony of the bullet Milo had put in him fade away entirely.

  He’d lain there on the stable floor, blood pooling under him as he struggled to remain conscious, and all he could think about was the fact that now…now he’d never see the stars in Cora’s smiling eyes again. He’d never hear her laugh, or see her throw one of her magnificent tantrums.

  He’d never hear her whisper his name, feel her nails on his back, or make her moan.

  So fuck it—he was all in. And if that meant sharing, then he’d share until he had nothing left to give.

  Finn threw open the conference room door. Empty. He brought his radio to his mouth. “This is Mike, come in Bravo, over.”

  He listened for a few seconds, but there was no response.

  Pressing down the button again, he said, “Lars, where the fuck is he?”

  There was silence, until he added, “Over.”

  “Jesus, the anticipation,” Lars radioed back. “Don’t you think if I knew, I’d have told you, over?”

  Finn let out a huff. “We should never have left them alone.”

  There was a pause, until Lars radioed in a wary, “Over?”

  “Yes, fucking over,” Finn snapped.

  “No need to get testy,” Lars replied calmly. “I’ll go check the roof and keep trying the radio. You start kicking down doors. You’re good at that. Over.”

  Finn shoved the radio back onto his belt and strode down the passage. It was late afternoon, and it sounded as if an entire flock of songbirds had taken up residence in the nearby trees. The next door was the entrance to a staff hallway, and the one after that opened to a library.

  Which he almost dismissed had it not been for the indrawn breath he heard…and then instantly recognized.

  Finn stepped deeper into the room, finding Cora and Bailey a second later.

  She straddled his waist, one hand on the back of the armchair and the other on his chest while he thrust his hips up to fuck her.

  Finn’s beast let out a long, low growl.

  She doesn’t belong to him, it hissed. Make him stop playing with our toy.

  But that sinister voice inside his head was right…but just ass wrong—she didn’t belong to anyone.

  He strode forward, fists creaking and arms tensing in anticipation of that first blow.

  Bailey was so intent on fucking her, he didn’t seem to notice Finn coming up the stairs. But Cora must have sensed him; she rolled her head to the side, giving him a vacant stare over her shoulder.

  And then it was as if reality had flipped a switch in her head, because her heavy-lidded eyes flashed open, and she gasped again.

  But in shock this time, not pleasure.

  “Don’t stop,” Finn said as he cleared the last step.

  Bailey jerked, and tried pushing Cora off his lap, his face going white.

  “I said, don’t stop.” Finn came up behind Cora, crowding so close to the pair she would have had to clamber over the arms of the chair to get away.

  He put a hand on her shoulder, and slid the other down her back. His eyes never left Bailey’s as he urged her forward again.

  Bailey’s eyes fluttered as he groaned, but there was such a mixture of pleasure and panic on his face it was impossible to tell if he wanted to come or pass out.

  It wasn’t the most entertaining sex he’d had to watch, but with the smell of Cora so strong in his nose, he felt as aroused as fuck.

  Cora reached behind her, sliding her hand up Finn’s thighs. He caught it before she could touch his straining cock though, and ripped it away.

  She protested with a low throated moan, but he silenced her with his mouth.

  He touched his fingers to Bailey’s stomach, running them down until where he and Cora met with a wet slap. Then he began strumming Cora’s clit, tearing away from their kiss long enough to murmur, “Come quick, Princess.”

  Her next groan rattled in her throat, but then he was kissing her again. Bailey’s thrusts became harder, faster, and he could almost feel the man’s climax building as the muscles brushing his knuckles tensed.

  He massaged Cora’s clit as hard as he could, but Bailey came before she did. The man grabbed Cora’s hips and rammed so hard into her that her teeth clicked against Finn’s.

  And then Bailey drew out of her, face flushed and eyes bright, but refusing to look at either of them.

  “You just going to leave her like this?” Finn asked, running his fingers hard over her slit. She moaned, bucking her hips against his hands and covering him with Bailey’s cum.

  “I…I can’t—” Bailey stammered, looking so confused it was almost comedic.

  “That shit doesn’t fly around here,” Finn said, gritting his teeth at Bailey. He grabbed the man’s dick, but he’d already gone soft. “Fuck,” he muttered.

  There was precious little time, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cora stranded on that island of pleasure, fingers stretched to the lapping waters like someone dying of thirst. And then letting those waters recede into the distance.

  That was just fucking rude.

  He dragged down his fly. Cora cried out in surprise when he forced her to her knees on the armchair. Pushing her dress up her back, he tugged her underwear down to mid-thigh, ran the tip of his cock over her slit, and plunged himself inside her.

  It was unbelievably wet in there, tighter than he remembered, and hot as a fucking griddle.

&n
bsp; He groaned, bent over her back, and pounded in her so hard that she had to catch a hold of the back of the armchair or risk crashing into Bailey.

  The man had frozen under them. Perhaps he was still basking in his selfish orgasm, but he seemed incapable of processing what was happening.

  So Finn grabbed his hand, and guided his fingers over Cora’s clit.

  “You make sure she fucking comes,” he growled, slamming into her so hard that she let out a breathless scream. “Or you’ll never fuck her again.”

  That seemed to wake up the man. He blinked hard, and massaged Cora’s clit with his fingers.

  She moaned and moved against Finn’s thrusts. And, seconds later, she stiffened. Her walls solidified around his cock like wet concrete, and he had to thrust even harder to get back inside her as she came.

  Her climax felt glorious to him, but it was over too soon.

  Now with no intention of holding himself back, Finn fucked her as hard as he could. And he stared Bailey right in the eyes until the man’s shock drained away and lust replaced it.

  Still massaging Cora’s clit, Bailey lifted his other hand, and caressed the base of Finn’s cock when he plunged into Cora again.

  And then he grabbed a hold of Finn’s balls, and the touch was so unexpected that it sent him plummeting over the edge.

  He poured into their girl, teeth gritted and jaw bunched, as Bailey stroked the inch or two of his cock that didn’t fit inside Cora.

  As soon as he drew out, Bailey snatched his hand away and busied himself putting away his cock—which looked difficult, because it was rock hard again.

  Finn allowed himself a smirk as he helped Cora to a stand and tugged her underwear down her legs. She stood still as he cleaned her with the filmy fabric, and then tucked it inside his jacket pocket.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” Finn said, when Cora tottered around to give him a wide, dopey grin.

  That smile faltered, and then faded. “What?” she asked, blinking owlishly up at him.

  “A demon still stinking of brimstone, according to Lars.” He looked past her at Bailey. “Answer your fucking radio next time.”

  Finn turned, lifted his radio, and radioed in to Lars. “She’s in the library.”

  “On our way,” came his reply.

  “A demon?” Cora asked, tidying her hair with a trembling hand.

  “Probably a lawyer,” Finn said. At her confused expression, he added, “Lars hates lawyers.”

  7

  What’s a Bitcoin?

  The lawyer introduced himself to Cora as Nick Devonshire. They sat by the library’s research table—mahogany polished until it gleamed—with Cora trying her hardest to get rid of the blush that kept creeping onto her cheeks whenever she looked in Finn or Bailey’s direction.

  She’d tried to get her underwear back from Finn, but then Lars had walked into the library and Finn had given her a questioning look, as if asking if she really wanted to be fighting with him in front of Lars.

  For the sake of retaining at least some shred of dignity, she’d decided he could keep the damn underwear. She had more, anyway.

  But it felt weirdly intimate to meet with a complete stranger while cool air moved around her nether regions every time she took a step or crossed her legs. And it was as if Finn knew it; he watched her like a curious tiger wondering if the hare it was stalking would ever grow tired of their game.

  As soon as they sat, one of the villa’s servants came inside the library with a wheeled serving tray. The smell of coffee hit Cora’s nose before she saw the spread of cakes and finger foods stacked alongside the espresso decanters.

  She caught Lars’s eye.

  He shrugged. “What? It’s just good manners to feed your guests.” Then he added, in a voice meant only for her ears, “and your men.”

  She wasn’t complaining; her stomach growled at the sight of the food. She wasn’t the only one to grab something to eat, but their guest, Nick, just sat back politely and watched them stuffing their faces as if he had all the time in the world.

  With her mouth full, she couldn’t exactly ask him what he wanted. But he seemed happy to scan everyone while wearing the most neutral smile she’d ever seen.

  Judging from his salt-and-pepper hair, and the gray dusting his sideburns, he might have been close to her father’s age, if not a little older.

  She swallowed down the last of a croissant, wiped her fingers on a napkin, and slugged down some warm coffee before speaking.

  “So…you wanted to see me?” she asked.

  Nick had been watching Lars eat. She wasn’t surprised; Lars ate as passionately as he made love.

  The lawyer turned to her at the question, and gave her a small nod. He lifted his briefcase onto the table and took out a file, making each move with utter precision.

  “Do you remember me at all, Ms. Rivera?” he asked, flipping open the file before taking a spectacle case from inside the briefcase.

  She took another sip of coffee, shaking her head. “Should I?”

  “You were very young. Five, I think.” For the first time, his smile brightened a bit. “You’ve grown since then.”

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that? So she gave him a tight smile, threw Finn a frown, and sipped at her coffee.

  Nick took out a sheet of paper and slid it over the table to her. He was sitting next to Lars, who sat to her right. Finn sat to her left, and Bailey beside him.

  Strange, she hadn’t even considered taking any seat but the head of the table. The thought perked up her lips as she grabbed the corner of the sheet and glanced at it.

  “That’s a lot of numbers,” she said. She waved the paper. “Is it supposed to mean something to me?”

  Nick politely cleared his throat. “That’s a statement for the trust your father set up in your name.”

  “Oh.” Cora looked back at the paper. And then back at the lawyer. “All of it?” her voice was a bit too high, so she hurriedly put the paper down so she could take another sip of coffee.

  “Uh…yes,” Nick said. He slid his spectacles on his nose and gave her a dreary smile. “With the economic conditions we had last year, we’re lucky to have seen any returns on your investments, but I was able to scrape through a paltry eight-point-seven percent.”

  Lars looked up at this, and then across at Cora. He hurriedly wiped his hands on a napkin and gestured at the piece of paper.

  “Mother, may I?”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but handed over the paper. “So what are you saying, Nick?”

  “Not my finest year, I’ll be the first to admit—”

  “I’m sorry,” Lars cut in, lifting a hand in Nick’s direction. Then he stabbed at the paper. “Am I counting right? Are those nine digits?”

  Nick craned the side to see what Lars was pointing at. “Ah, yes, you see…with the fall in commodities last quarter—”

  “Fucking rich people,” Lars muttered, shoving the paper back at Cora.

  There was a long, retracted silence. Then Finn reached for the paper and glanced at it. He handed it to Bailey.

  Nick cleared his throat again. “I completely understand if you wish to appoint a new trustee, Ms. Rivera. I would of course appreciate the opportunity to handle the transition on November second, but if you’d prefer I hand over the investment portfolio to another—”

  “This—” Cora washed a hand down herself “—isn’t anger. It’s shock. Just give me a minute.”

  She sat back in her chair, bringing her coffee cup with her.

  If the ringing in her ears could just quieten down, it would make thinking a hell of a lot easier.

  583,000,000

  Bailey put the page down. His eyes were wide, his lips parted.

  Had it been 583? Or 385? She gestured, and Finn slid the paper back over the table to her.

  583 million.

  She swallowed down the rest of her coffee, burning her mouth.

  When she made eye contact with Nick agai
n, he wore a tiny frown above the bridge of his nose. “You’re joking, right?”

  Nick dropped his eyes. “I understand your frustration, Ms. Rivera. If you would like me to present a detailed explanation of your shareholdings—”

  “Nick.”

  “—then I’ll just need a day to prepare. I can have a PowerPoint presentation—”

  “Nick!”

  The man looked up.

  “Nick, I can’t wrap my head around how much money that is,” Cora said. She laid her hands over the sheet. “Stop apologizing, okay?”

  Nick looked a little concerned at this instruction, but gave a wary nod in her direction.

  “Okay…” Cora sat back, hands still on the table, and tried to breathe. “I’m guessing that’s not…it’s not all just, money piles in a vault somewhere, right?”

  At this, Nick perked up. “Your investments have been spread across several very—”

  “I mean, I can’t just go and get money from…from like an ATM?”

  Nick blinked, took off his spectacles, and began cleaning them with his tie. “Uh…Not quite. There is a day-to-day fund which I can make withdrawals from, if you do need anything—”

  “So it’s my money, but I can’t touch it?” Cora cut in.

  “Not yet.” Nick gave a decisive nod. “Not until November second.”

  “That’s pretty specific,” Lars said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Nick gave him a quick glance, but his eyes shot straight back to Cora. He’d been uneasy sitting down with all three men, but he’d probably been around enough cartel folk to know that the higher up someone was, the meatier their entourage became.

  “It’s my birthday,” Cora said through numb lips.

  “What, Tuesday’s your birthday?” Lars grinned at her. “You should have said sooner. Didn’t exactly leave us much time to pick out presents, did you?”

  “The trust is to be released to you on your twenty-first birthday,” Nick said, and began taking more papers out of his briefcase. “In preparation, I need you to please sign these documents.”

  Lars handed the stack of papers to her, and then Nick’s ballpoint pen.