He smiled down on her, noticing the way the soft trembling rippled over her body. It turned into violent tremors as she clamped down on his cock with the roof of her mouth. Jagger and Leon applied their full weight to his back, throwing themselves into the act of passion, the art of pleasing their mate, the woman whom they’d all chosen to love and honor, protect and—in moments like these—keep satisfied.
Ariela closed her eyes and tears trickled from the corners. Her cheeks indented with a more deliberate suction as she tightened her mouth around the middle of his shaft. She stroked his balls with her fingertips, making him crazy, making him need.
“Fuck!” Leon screamed out.
Jagger jerked, his body going into spasms.
Ariela whined as her climax rolled over her. The tremors were more distracting as the men threw her into an abyss of pleasure, rocking back and forth, no doubt now raking her with their barbed cockheads as they found their release.
A dazed Ariela hummed against Sanchez’s cock, enhancing his overall pleasure. He dumped his release down her throat, thrumming across her tongue, jerking between her cheeks until she drained him of every last drop.
He locked his teeth over his lip and worked his hips from side to side, shivering as she depleted him of what little energy he’d had remaining after the show.
“Did you enjoy me, Sanchez?” She sipped the tip as if she wanted to make sure his taste remained with her for hours to come. “Did you?”
“You’re starting to give these guys a complex,” he said, pushing away from the desk and standing upright.
Twirling her nipples, she glanced from Leon to Jagger and back to Sanchez once more. “I’m not done with you boys yet.”
Jagger swatted her smooth mound. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll gladly take ownership in this pretty little pussy anytime you purr for me.”
Leon laughed. Sanchez shook his head. Apparently Jagger still had a lot to learn.
No man would ever own Ariela at any price.
“Jagger, no one ever really owns a cat, particularly one who has the ability to make a grown man roar like a lion one minute and whimper like a little kitten the very next.”
“She has a point,” Leon said, sorting through the clothes on the floor. “You can’t argue with a lioness in heat.”
“He’s right. The last thing we want to do is agitate a horny lioness.”
“I disagree.” Jagger dragged her to the edge of the desk and bracketed his arm around her waist. “Whimper, is it?”
“Yes,” she rasped, her mouth opening and closing as he moved in for a kiss but backed away before delivering one. “You whimper, Jagger.”
“And what do you do?” He dropped his head to her breasts and devoured them, squeezing the fullness around his mouth until he buried his face in her mounds, sucking one nipple and then the other.
Her head flew back and she shivered as her golden hair tumbled across her shoulders. “I enjoy.”
“But you don’t whimper?”
“No.”
“Roar?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is it that my little kitten does exactly?” Jagger yanked her forward and penetrated her at the same time, locking her legs behind her back as he pounded into her pussy with hammering force.
“Oh God, Jagger,” she whispered. “Right there. Ah yes, please don’t stop. Not yet.”
He took one step and then another before backing her against the wall. He clamped her hand next to her head and drove inside her, pushing against her with compelling power and strength.
She bucked back, but took as well as she gave. Her legs fluttered up and down in a swimmer’s formation. A flicker of excitement flashed in her eyes as the two lovers fucked like champions and screwed like porn stars.
“Now, baby.” His hips rocked. His body tightened. “I don’t want my woman to whimper. Oh no, Ariela. I want my lady to scream!”
Chapter Two
“You’re looking recently screwed this morning,” Melinda said, strolling into Jagger’s office unannounced and slapping the daily papers on his desk. “Guess the little woman is even more exhausting now that she has so many of you to keep satisfied.”
Jagger stifled a yawn, took a sip of coffee, and glanced at the newspaper topping the stack. “Looks like we made the headlines, like we’d hoped.”
“Jagger, we need to talk.” Melinda sank to the wide square chair in front of his desk. Making a show out of crossing her long, slender legs, she tilted her head and smiled, apparently satisfied because he’d actually watched the action.
In her mind, she probably thought she’d won some sort of personal battle between herself and Ariela. If she only knew what kind of dangerous game she was playing when she flirted with danger.
Ariela would take pleasure in clawing Melinda’s eyes out if she so much as suspected Melinda had attempted to flash her cunt and show herself to her husband.
“Jagger?” She snapped her fingers. “Look at my eyes. Not my legs.”
Jagger jerked. Had he been staring at her legs?
Of course. He’d been thinking about them. It would make sense he’d gaze-groped his former personal assistant. Now the Chief Financial Officer of Pride’s Las Vegas Casino, Melinda considered herself invaluable, and often forced Jagger’s hand when she wanted a pay raise. She was invaluable because she knew too much, and what she didn’t know she made up for in tall tales—which made her extremely dangerous.
Jagger stood and faced the window, admiring the glistening sun beating down on the desert beyond the Vegas skyline. He longed to be out there as a part of nature, perhaps lounging by the pool with Ariela, spending the day with his mate, as Sanchez and Leon had opted to do.
“The papers said the premiere was a smashing hit.”
“Good. What else?”
“We have an offer for the white lion. What’s his name?”
Jagger stilled. He swallowed. What kind of game was Melinda playing?
“Jagger? The lion? What’s his name?”
“Sanchez,” he replied, returning to his seat. “What else?”
“Don’t you want to hear the offer?” She batted her eyelashes as if she thought the price might interest him.
“No.”
“Why not?” She uncrossed her legs, spread them entirely too wide, and repositioned them once more, tapping the toe of her pointed shoe against the back of his desk. “It’s more than fair.”
“Sanchez is Ariela’s lion. He isn’t for sale.”
“Everything has a price.” Melinda leaned forward, pushing up her cleavage as if she were showcasing glorious mountains. “Isn’t that what Ariela would say?”
“Sanchez isn’t for sale.”
“The offer is being entertained by the board,” she snapped, rising to her feet.
“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Jagger glanced up at her as if he were too busy to even address the situation. “We aren’t interested in negotiating a price on Sanchez’s head.”
“Get interested,” she said, leaning over and flipping the switch on one of his computer monitors. Grabbing the wireless keyboard, she quickly typed in her security passcodes. A few seconds later, several images from the casino floor flickered across the screen.
“What’s this?” Jagger moved closer, narrowing his gaze on the high roller pit and a blackjack game with two players—one on third base, one seated at first.
“Last night, we had two high rollers come in and take us for seven point eight million.”
“Counters?”
“I wish,” she bit out, striking a few keys.
Jagger eased closer, watching one hand dealt after another. After a few minutes, he’d seen enough. He turned off the monitor and glared at Melinda. “Who was in charge down there when all this happened?”
“Dave Dux.” She took a deep breath. “He’s been dealt with appropriately.”
“Fired?”
&n
bsp; “Taken to the tunnels.”
“Shit, Melinda!” Jagger shoved away from his desk and stormed to the wet bar. “Are you out of your mind? We can’t start practicing old casino behaviors. We aren’t the mob!”
“We think the shoe was stacked. If you watch the footage, you’ll see the cameras were off from five minutes after seven— which is when these guys sat down—until seven-thirty when they started winning nearly every hand. It was an inside job, Jagger, and I just helped you send a message.”
“If I wanted to send a message, I’d buy a damn billboard on every street corner in Vegas!”
“Consider it done. Everyone from here to Reno now knows. No one cheats Pride’s Las Vegas Casino.”
Jagger grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Placing the cool plastic against his brow, he thought of poor old Dave. The old fellow was a kind and gentle man. For a split second, Jagger was afraid he might be ill. “How badly was he beaten?”
“Badly enough to be out of work for a while. We gave him a nice severance package. He was able to leave the tunnels with his life.”
“Fuck, Melinda!” Jagger paced the room. Since when had he hired a black widow to work on his behalf? “And if he goes to the police?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Jagger, don’t ask questions if you don’t want to know the answers.”
“This is my casino, Melinda!”
“His wife works for us. We gave him our word we wouldn’t tell her what he’d done and we agreed she wouldn’t be harmed.” She picked at a loose thread on her tailored blouse. “Since he’ll be out of work for a while, I imagine they need the money.”
“Since when do we beat our employees?” He was enraged.
“Since nearly eight million dollars walked out our front door, Jagger! Now come on! We need to talk about selling Sanchez.”
“It’s not an option,” he said, twisting off the bottle cap and taking a swig of water.
“Would you prefer to sell Ariela, because from what I understand, our buyer is more interested in the lioness than the lion?” She cocked her head to the side. “I believe in exploring all options when our finances are in jeopardy. Don’t you?”
His finances were in outstanding shape. One hit left a bruise, but it didn’t quite crack what Leon often referred to as the golden vault.
“Answer me, Jagger. Ariela or Sanchez: which do you prefer?”
“Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep from wrapping my hands around your throat.”
Melinda never flinched. “My throat isn’t what interests you, Jagger. And that’s why you’re always so frustrated when I’m around. Why don’t you and I close and lock the doors today? Why don’t we put aside the business matters and work out our personal problems?” She rolled her tongue over her full lips and practically meowed. “Maybe then I can show you why I believe Ariela might just be the better choice. I mean, if we’re comparing apples to apples, and something tells me we are.”
Jagger stalked her then. He’d had enough of Melinda. He’d tolerated her probing, the way she tried to dig for information and find out what she could about Jagger and his pride, a family that would continue to grow, if Leon’s predictions held true.
“How many times have you propositioned me, Melinda?”
Her upper cheek twitched. “I wouldn’t call it a proposition, exactly.”
“What would you call it?”
“A mutually satisfying arrangement, one that allows us both to reap the many benefits of a quite pleasurable union.”
“And what are those benefits?” He tried to still the raging lion lingering beneath the surface, the primal need he had welling inside him.
Sure, he found Melinda attractive. She was leggy, busty, and had a sexual prowess about her that often left him irritable, but he had always thanked his lucky stars. He’d rarely been tempted beyond a second look. There were those infrequent occasions, and during those times, he had specific fantasies, cravings really.
At the moment, he wanted to rip into her like the animal he was, fuck her like she deserved to be fucked, without passion, without sincerity, and without lust driving his every last thrust.
Oh no, he wanted to teach her a lesson and leave her drowning in his heat as he dismissed her from his life and his business. He dragged his fingers around his square jaw and debated on such a possibility, realizing the consequences would be far too great, regardless of the pleasure that stripping her of that arrogance might bring him.
“You are dismissed, Melinda,” he said tightly.
“Dismissed, am I?” She threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t think so, Jagger.” She moved into him, raking her fingernail down his cheek and drawing a tad bit of blood.
The smell of his own plasma left his nostrils flaring. Seemingly unaware of the broken skin, she moistened her lips and stared at his. “See, you and I are coming to an arrangement, like I mentioned. If we don’t, the man who is interested in buying Sanchez will know why you aren’t interested in selling.”
“And why is that?”
“Don’t play me for a fool.”
“What do you want from me, Melinda?” He knew better than to ask because she had always made her intentions known.
“I want to fuck you, Jagger. It’s all I think about.” She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and before he could stop her, she unclasped her bra.
Her breasts popped free of her clothing. At the same time, the door swung open.
Ariela, Sanchez, and Leon entered his office, laughing wildly at some joke that wouldn’t be repeated later. No one would remember the punch line, but they’d later recall the incident that would soon leave Jagger as the butt of all jokes.
Chapter Three
Jagger didn’t have time to explain. A hiss resounded before the claws came out. Ariela pounced on Jagger. She refused to consider the logical reason of what had taken place.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She pounded him with her small fists, fighting him more like a tigress than a lioness. He could deal with the lioness, but cats of a different litter were much harder to handle. He shuddered at the thought.
She was quick as a whip, striking against his flesh with accuracy and precision, going at him with bared teeth and a deadly look in her eyes.
Clasping her wrists, he shook her until he gained her full attention. “And why are you acting like this exactly?” He shot a very smug Melinda a glare before he focused on Ariela once more. “Think about this. You’re playing right into her hands.”
“I always knew you were jealous of me,” Melinda sang. She might as well have declared herself the lone survivor in a very cold war, but Melinda was about to meet an opponent who understood the dangers of underestimating an enemy.
And she didn’t give a damn.
Ariela searched his face before she turned to Leon. “Do you know what happened?”
“Yes.”
“Is it what I think?”
“Considering how you attacked me?” Jagger snorted at that. “How the hell is Leon supposed to know what you think?”
Leon shrugged. “There are some things you need to sort out on your own. This is one of those times, Ariela.”
“What are you?” Melinda focused on Leon, clutching her shirt to her chest.
“Well that’s a mighty fine question to ask. Isn’t it?” Ariela’s head bobbed one way and then the other, never a good sign when she was mad. “What are you exactly?” Ariela stalked her like she might approach rabid prey, careful to keep out of Melinda’s striking distance, but pursuing her all the same. “We know you suck at answering phones. Why Jagger gave you a promotion when you were clearly failing at the task of being his personal assistant, I’ll never know.”
“I wasn’t failing in that area, Ariela,” Melinda drawled, grinning. “Trust me.”
“But see, that’s just it. I don’t.”
Jagger breathe
d a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. Ariela believed in him enough to see this scene for what it was—fixed, plotted and planned without flaws or room for error.
“I snatched up that promotion because I earned it the good old fashioned way.”
The head bob thing continued and Ariela said, “Then I’m sure glad to know that. Because you’re about to get fired the good old fashioned way, too. Go clean out your desk, bitch. Your work is done here. Our attorneys will forward the details of your severance package.”
Melinda laughed. “I don’t think so, doll.” She shot Jagger a quick heated glance. “My work, as you say, was about to begin again. Too bad your timing sucked. You’ll never know what you might have discovered if you’d walked in another half hour later.” She tossed her blouse over her shoulder like she was flipping a jacket behind her back. Then, she stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
“That woman is fired!” Ariela spun around and faced Jagger. He walked to his desk and she trailed him, clenching her fists. “Do you hear me, Jagger? I’ve put up with her taunting all I’m going to! I need a break from this madness. I don’t want to wonder when she’s going to show her boobies next or give you a flash of her swollen pussy lips—and God knows, those things have probably flapped around enough to grab some substantial attention. It would be hard to put a number on how much traffic she’s had between those skanky legs. Everything snuggled between them should be good and loose by now.”
“Ew,” Sanchez muttered, taking a seat on the sofa and grabbing the remote at the same time.
“Tell me about it,” Jagger grumbled. “That’s not an image I want in my head.”
“Then next time she hikes up her skirt, maybe you’ll look the other way,” Ariela continued. “Fire her, Jagger—or you’ll be getting a little more exercise than usual.” She clenched her fist and yanked her arm up and down.
Fame Page 2
