by Ciara Cole
Making her lean her back completely on his chest, Trent rubbed on her stomach, whispering in her ear that he’d fill her up soon with his come. Gwen sobbed in ecstasy at his dirty words, her ass slapping even faster against his thighs.
When they’d headed out for their honeymoon they’d decided to start on having another baby. They felt they were both ready now. Becoming a real family made them eager to fill it up with siblings for Jonah, who was staying with Trent’s doting parents for now. He’d spend the other half of the five-week long honeymoon trip with his other grandmother, Gwen’s own mom Tanya, who’d returned to the country to make it for the wedding and would be staying some months.
Gwen had been worried if Trent could really take five weeks off from business, but he told her now that he was the president and the CEO he could confidently leave the day-to-day running of the company in capable hands. Especially since Max had successfully fished out the mole in their personal team.
As suspected, he was paid by Trent’s former in-laws, Hailey’s parents. It had been easy to set a trap for him, especially after Trent’s mother had gone to confront Hailey’s parents, Mark and Jennifer Harper. It had been immediately after Gwen and Julia had met for dinner and Gwen had told her about the leaked documents. Julia had gone to warn the Harpers to desist from making trouble for her son. She knew they were behind all the bad publicity he got after Hailey had died. Julia had said she felt bad that Hailey was gone, but that Trent had his life ahead of him and they couldn’t keep interfering in that.
She then had said that Trent already suspected someone on his team and was close to nabbing him.
Of course, Julia hadn’t really known how close Trent was and had only been bluffing to get them running scared. When she had given Trent the news about confronting the Harpers, Trent and Max had worked out a way to catch the spy red-handed.
“He probably thinks we’re already on to him,” Max had said. “Why don’t we cook up some ruse, and make him fall into our trap?”
“We could cook up a story, and say we’ll be releasing it to the press to expose a certain family secret or something,” Trent had said, smiling to himself.
Max had set up an around the clock surveillance in front of the Harpers’ home. There had been no guarantee the spy would show up, as he could easily have just phoned or emailed the information he’d gathered. But Max’s thoroughness had paid off, as just before midnight the following day, a familiar figure had driven up to the gates and had slunk into the house. Max had recognized him as a young intern who’d joined the company a year ago and had been put on their team. He’d seemed smart and promising and everyone had liked him, but it never occurred to them that he could be two-faced.
The next morning Trent had called him in and fired him. As the young man had blustered, Trent showed him pictures of the man entering and leaving the Harpers’ home. “What’s your connection to them? Obviously you’ve been feeding them info about me and also, planting all sorts of trouble on their behalf,” Trent had said.
“And just in case you try to deny it,” Max had added, who had stood behind Trent and then had switched on a screen behind the intern, “Here’s the video of you sneaking into my office to get the file I kept on the so-called press release. Since I already suspected it was you, you were among the only three people I told about the documents. And you were the only one interested enough to check them out yourself and even make copies.”
“Please, Mr. Matthews! I only did what I was told,” the man had whined. “They came to me after I got put on your team and paid me to spy for them. I don’t want to go to jail for this. Please help me, Mr. Matthews.” He had been almost bawling.
Trent had shaken his head impatiently. “Just get rid of him, Max.”
“Yes, sir.”
The intern’s eyes had popped wide. Everyone knew of or at least suspected that Max had a dark past as an ex-army special operative and mercenary. Were they really going to get rid of him, the intern’s bugging eyes had seemed to question in fear.
“It means you’re fired,” Max had told the guy, as he had grabbed the man’s arm. The intern had slumped in what seemed like relief, even as Max had quipped, “What did you think? That I was about to chop you up in little pieces and stuff you in a suitcase? Geez. Just go.”
He had led the man out, while sending a rare grin over his shoulder at the chuckling Trent.
All that drama was far from Trent’s thoughts right then, as he groaned with how tight his sexy bride was, wrapped around him with her moist, velvet vagina. Watching her round, smooth brown ass bouncing on his groin made his senses dizzy. She took him so deep, her full chocolate lips stretching round him and gulping in the inches with each grind of her sultry hips.
He pulled her back to lean on him, so her body flattened and he could view her flat stomach. He spread his palm over the concave bowl and whispered how close he was to filling her with his seed. And added, that he couldn’t wait to fill her with a baby too. They’d already had a week of practice, he thought to himself. He could almost feel they already had a life forming inside her, a life they both created, for the second time.
Trent felt a sudden pang as he thought momentarily of his late wife Hailey. He’d stuck with the marriage even with her gold-digging ways and even the little hints and rumors of her infidelity. It was sad that her parents still seemed to resent him, but he chose not to press charges after dismissing their spy. Maybe one day, they could find healing like Trent had done when Gwen came back to his life, and gave him the gift of Jonah.
He loved the beautiful boy more and more each day. They did everything together. Trent and Gwen were definitely eager to make sure that Jonah wasn’t an only child like them, and would have a brother and sister soon enough.
“You ready, angel?” he whispered to his wife, as her body shuddered against his, her screams of ecstasy filling the air.
He’d held back long enough. His sac was full and aching to empty its all into her waiting uterus. The sounds of wet flesh slapping on flesh almost maddened him. His breathing grew ragged as his wife’s generous ass rocked up and down on him, her walls gripping him tighter. That was all the answer he needed.
“Agghh! Now, baby. Come now.” His hoarse command urged her to let go. His thrusts became violent, neither of them able to hold back. She’ll be too sore to walk after this, at least for an hour or two. He’d gladly carry her around where she needed to go, thought Trent with an inner chortle. He knew all too well that she liked it when he lost control, just like she loved the pleasure-pain of being taken hard and rough in the last throes of her upcoming orgasm.
Her legs trembled on him, her whole frame in spasms as she screamed his name so loud he had to close his hand over her mouth. Her eyes spun upwards into her lids, her spine bucking. Trent groaned thickly and pressed his hand over her hip bones as he pinned her tightly down to him. Through his hazy vision he could see the goose bumps rising on her skin and those gave him goose bumps. He was too close to turn back now, and her contracting walls were squeezing his shaft hotly and wildly. Sealing his mouth on her neck to muffle his own animal roar, Trent poured his release deep, deep inside her.
“I love you,” he drummed unto her skin with his breath. To his amazement, she said it back. More like groaned, but he heard it clearly.
“I love you, too, you devil husband of mine. Just don’t kill me with too much pleasure,” she whimpered. “I came so hard I think I saw the surface of the moon.”
Trent chuckled deeply, then nipped on her ear as their bodies still clung together. “Nothing’s ever too much, not with you. We’ll probably be going at it this hard until our nineties.”
“Oh, dear. Whatever will our great-grandkids and grandkids think of us?” Gwen said, mock-primly. Her back was trembling with her own deep laughter.
***
Love, laughter, pleasure, tears, and happiness—they’d share it all together in the many, many years to come. And Gwen would always remember that sunny mornin
g of their raucous outdoor lovemaking, and notch it as the time their twin daughters must have been conceived. Two years later they’d have another set of twins, boys this time, and Gwen and Trent decided maybe they could be happy with their lively brood of five. But just when they least expected, Gwen got pregnant again, and it was a baby girl, which made her much older twin sisters joyous.
Gwen chose to name her Sara. Trent knew it wasn’t like she was trying to replace his first daughter in Trent’s heart, but was trying to show him that Sara had come back to stay. Trent never used to believe in reincarnation, but somehow he felt this might be true. Sometimes when his youngest daughter smiled at him, she seemed like his little angel who had now flown back home. For that, and every miracle he’d experienced in his life since he got Gwen back, Trent would always be deeply grateful for.
THE END
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Black Billionaire’s Surprise Triplets
By Ciara Cole
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Billionaire’s Black Surprise Triplets
By Ciara Cole
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2016 Ciara Cole.
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Chapter One
The thing about success is sometimes it narrows your circles and options. Tamira Fontaine had seen a lot of her friendships fade with each achievement and each rung up the success ladder she went. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that perhaps such “friends” became envious or resentful with how easily Tamira was getting ahead. On the surface it did look easy, but it really wasn’t.
Tamira toiled hard and long to reach this point, but then hard work never fazed her. It just so happened that the more of a go-getter she became, the fewer reasons she had for certain people in her life. It wasn’t her fault they felt intimidated or whatever. She couldn’t help it that she was a “doer” and never used her deprived background as an excuse.
She’d started from the bottom like all of the others, and even though some never really got out of the grind, Tamira planned on never looking back. However she wasn’t one to let her accomplishments go to her head. She was the same Tamira, headstrong but genuine, and it was those around her who’d changed, not the other way around.
Thankfully there were still a few she could count on. Like Nisha.
And Tamira could already guess who it was as she felt her cell phone thrumming in her purse. “I was just thinking about you,” Tamira said with a smile.
“So what happened? Are you done with the Cavendish team?” Nisha’s buzzing enthusiasm could be felt from the other end.
“Yes, and it went splendidly,” Tamira said smugly. “I just finished the meeting. We got along better than I expected. Definitely a promising project to get on board with. Using the relaxed setting of Sky Bar for our meeting was a nice touch on their part. And you know, Cavendish is one of the top most respected brands according to Forbes. So having them interested in my services is doing wonders for my morale. As you can imagine, I’m in a celebratory mood.”
Tamira heard Nisha’s deep sigh. “While I’m busy babysitting my adorable nephews. Wish I was there.”
“Me too. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. Especially as a thanks for choosing my outfit. I felt like it was a lucky charm tonight.”
Nisha laughed. “Told you it would be a hit. So did you meet him?”
“You mean Rafe Cavendish?” Tamira plucked at a stray fleck on her beaded purse. “Nah, he was a no-show. Apparently he got held up in traffic, and in the end his people had to close for him. Nothing’s set in stone yet as we’re still working out terms and possibilities. In the coming week I’ll be sure to hear from them again, but I already feel positive about this whole opportunity.”
“I’ll handle the details when I show for work first thing Monday,” Nisha promised. Not just Tamira’s best friend, Nisha was also her assistant. They worked together like a perfect lock and key, and it was great having someone you could count on and be real with.
“So any plans for the rest of the night?” Nisha asked in a half-teasing tone. “I mean it is our favorite—Sky Bar—and there’s bound to be lots of prospects.”
“You could say that.” Tamira swept a glance around and took in the scene once more. It was a low-key, open-air lounge set atop one of the city’s ritziest hotels. Thanks to the comfortable space, elegant ambience, and gorgeous city views, it was worth the experience if one could get in. The drinks were top level—none of that weak, overpriced stuff. Well, sure, it was pricey, but at least they didn’t skimp on the alcohol, and the overall service was commendable. Tamira may have come here for a business engagement, but now that it had concluded she saw no harm in taking time out to unwind when she happened to be here.
It was a Friday, and the after-work crowd filtered in with the high rollers from all spheres of vocation—lawyers, actors, politicians, designers, tech guys. Sometimes Tamira found it hard to believe she’d reached a level where she was welcomed into places like this; it gave her a confidence boost. And when she caught an appraising smile from a good-looking man from one corner of the room or the other, she couldn’t lie and say that didn’t feel nice either.
“I’m definitely keeping my options open,” Tamira murmured to Nisha, and soon rounded up the call, promising to properly fill Nisha in when they met at work. Tamira looked up as the bartender emerged to offer a refill. Tamira accepted and briefly smiled at him, a gesture that made the handsome young man go slightly red in the cheek. Tamira had that effect on the opposite sex—with long, toned brown legs, accentuated by the clinging formal dress she wore, Tamira had a body to die for with curves in all the right places. Her gorgeous amber eyes and oval face were complemented by dark hair reaching to her shoulders. She could easily pass for a model with her flawless chocolate-brown skin, naturally pouting lips, and defined cheekbones.
Tamira looked away from the bartender just as a tall man wearing a rather expensive-looking suit came to stand beside her. The first thing she noticed were his hazel eyes, such a rich, unexpected golden color that seemed almost like they had to be contacts. He nodded and said something to the bartender, but Tamira wasn’t listening, too busy taking in how this male specimen beside her fit his charcoal-gray suit like it was made for every inch of his lean, towering frame. Everything about him from his voice, stature, and aura seemed to emanate power.
He suddenly looked at Tamira and smiled, his beautiful eyes quizzical. “Have we met?”
Oh fuck, she was staring. He probably felt she was trying to place his face from somewhere, which she wasn’t. Tamira was simply thinking to herself, how someone could so easily look like a walking Ralph Lauren poster. With a devilishly handsome face, piercing eyes, and sculpted lips, he was immaculately styled and groomed. And damn he smelled good.
Tamira was tingling just from his voice, making her lick her dry lips while she averted her eyes from him. Her first instinct was to simply utter an airy comment, maybe dismiss her gaffe by saying she’d mistaken him for someone else, just as a cover-up. But then something clicked on inside her, making her brighten her smile and hold out her hand.
“No, we haven’t. I’m Tamira.”
“Raphael,” he said, promptly taking her hand in a firm and yet gentle squeeze before dropping it. An odd sensation coursed through Tamira’s system at that first, fleeting contact. It soon traveled straight to the juncture of her thighs, and she quickly crossed her legs, hoping the slight thrum would disappear. But it simply heightened when the aptly named Raphael took the bar seat right next to her.
Suddenly the air felt charged with intense awareness that for a moment shut off everyone
else but the two of them. What the hell is happening? He wasn’t the first sinfully handsome man she’d met. Despite his name he seemed more “fallen angel” than archangel, and she didn’t really get down with white guys. She’d just never been curious, and besides, she’d hardly dated enough anyway to get any variety in her relationships. At twenty-six she didn’t really need one hand to count how many actual boyfriends or lovers she’d been with. She didn’t do “casual,” so as a rule when she was with someone, she was in for the long distance.
Her last boyfriend had been just her second, and he’d been driven away by her long work hours and her all-too-determined focus on her career that first year she started her business. Before him there had been her high school sweetheart whom she’d been with through college before, somehow, they drifted apart when he moved abroad for work. Tamira had grown up sheltered, and it had made her somewhat “sensible” about romance. It just didn’t take first place with her, and it followed that sex didn’t either.
She was no saint and she certainly wasn’t a prude, but in the last six months or so that she hadn’t been intimate with someone, she hadn’t exactly felt like the world would end.
Which made her spark of attraction for Raphael all the more surprising. Was it a fluke, possibly a passing fancy that would ebb after a few minutes or an hour? Was she curious enough to want to make certain?
Tamira had promised Nisha, and herself, that she was going to enjoy herself tonight. When the last-minute business meeting had been scheduled for tonight, and at this location, Tamira had taken it as a sign that she needed to jump back into the dating world. She’d let Nisha pick her this sexy dress so different from Tamira’s usual cardigan and pencil-skirt ensemble. Even if just for fun, her best friend and assistant had suggested Tamira find a man. Tamira had toyed with a few ideas where to start again with men… Match.com, Tinder—her local bar. But now, here, seemed like no harm at all in giving it a try. Whatever “it” could be.
