Jax hisses in a deep breath as he watches his cock sliding in and out of my slutty mouth. His arms flex, his teeth clench, and then he lets out a low savage grunt as he cums deep in my mouth.
I grab his bare ass with my hands and yank him forward, slamming his cock into the back of my throat as his hot cum coats every inch of it and drips down into my stomach.
My hair is a hot mess, and mascara water is leaking down my cheeks like Jax just made me cry, when in fact he made me feel the exact opposite of sadness.
He pulls out of my gasping mouth and looks around to see if anyone saw while he puts his dick away.
I glance down at the metal grate that’s cutting into my knees as I scan the oblivious tourists below. We didn’t get caught. This time.
We’ll see what happens at the Arc de Triomphe, and the Louvre, and Notre-Dame de Paris, and every other corner of Paris that we can get to.
I’m already looking forward to it.
Epilogue
Jax
Five years later…
“Where’s my angel?” I call out as I walk into the house. Three strapping young boys run up to me and greet me with a hug. I love seeing my kids after a long day of work at the beautiful fields of the winery, but there’s only one thing on my mind right now. “Where’s mommy?”
“Painting the wildflowers in the field outside,” our oldest Gregory says.
A low growl of anticipation rumbles out of my throat as I think about her sitting in the long colorful flowers, looking more gorgeous than ever as she paints the beautiful French countryside.
We quickly outgrew our tiny apartment on the Champs-Élysées once Gregory was born, so we moved to the countryside and I bought us a gorgeous old house that’s only a few minutes drive from a picturesque village named Cluny.
We’ve raised three sons here, and are expecting our fourth next month. It’s been heaven on earth, and I’m forever thankful for that song that inspired it all in the first place.
“Take your brothers upstairs and go practice your French,” I tell him.
He nods. “Yes, Papa.”
I smile as I watch them scurry away up the stairs to the study. All three of them have Angie’s auburn hair, but they all have my size.
There’s a ceramic jug of wine waiting for me on the kitchen counter, and I pour myself a glass before walking outside to our secluded little oasis. There’s not a neighbor in sight. Only rolling hills full of colorful flowers.
I have the sun on my face, good wine in my belly, and the breathtaking view of my angel surrounded by the most gorgeous scenery that nature has to offer.
Angie is eight months pregnant, and she looks more beautiful than ever. Her big round belly always turns me on so much, and that’s a real good thing because I’ve been having to fuck her way more often since she’s been pregnant. She’s been so horny and has had an unquenchable thirst for my cock, and now it’s time to go give her a taste of what she’s been waiting all day for.
“You’re finally home,” she says as her sun-kissed cheeks curl up into a smile. My heart thumps a little faster and my feet move a little quicker as I hurry across the field of wildflowers to where she’s sitting in front of a canvas. She loves to paint watercolors of the French countryside, and she’s pretty damn good at it.
“Don’t get up,” I say as I drop to a knee in front of her chair. I rub my palm over her round belly, feeling my cock begin to harden. She’s never as sexy as she is when she’s bred with my child. We’ve had one after another. I can’t help but plant another baby in her as soon as the last one comes out.
“You look more like an angel every day,” I say as I slide my hands up her summer dress, pulling it up to expose her soft supple skin. The sunlight in her hair is giving her a heavenly glow, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
“You spoil me too much,” she says as I raise her dress up past her hips. She spreads her legs for me and my cock jumps at the sight of the tuft of pubic hair over her wet pussy. “Although, I would like you to get home faster to take care of this.”
I bite my bottom lip as I watch her juices ooze out of her, leaking down her thigh. “I’ll quit tomorrow,” I say with my heated eyes locked on her cunt. “If I can stay all day with my cock buried inside you.”
She giggles as she runs her hand through my hair, making my eyes close. “You’re too young to retire,” she says. “Especially if you keep breeding me like I’m some kind of prized mare.”
“You’re my prized mare,” I say, lifting her dress up and over her round full tits. “And I’ll breed you as much as I want.”
She smiles as I take a swollen tit in my mouth and suck on the hard nipple. The sweet taste of her milk hits my tongue and I nearly cum in my pants.
I can’t wait any longer. The need is growing inside of me like an out of control fire. I pull out my hard cock and lie down on the grass as she straddles over me, gripping my dick and sliding it in deep.
Her cunt is so warm and tight, and the view of her beautiful round tits dripping with milk as they bounce up and down makes me cum faster than I’d like.
Angie doesn’t seem to mind. She just cums along with me, and we both enjoy it, knowing we can do it again whenever we want to.
She leans down on top of me, her pregnant belly pushing into my abs. Her soft auburn hair tickles my face and she tells me she loves me before kissing my lips.
She’s my angel.
And I’m in fucking heaven.
***Up Next is Pay Up Buttercup***
Followed by Daddy’s Best Friend
Then a sneak peek at the first chapter of my next book: CEOooooooo
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I don’t want his money. I want his daughter.
My dad is in big trouble.
He owes money to the most powerful man on the East Coast, and he can’t pay.
When I approach Mr. Connolly and try to take over the loan, he has a different idea.
He’s willing to wipe off the debt if I submit to him.
I have to do what he commands, when he commands it.
I think this Over The Top alpha male is a little obsessed with me.
Good thing I’m loving every second of it…
You down with OTT? This is an Olivia T. Turner book, which means it features a possessive and totally obsessed Over The Top male who isn’t afraid to take what he wants! If you like your book boyfriends sweet and cuddly than shut the computer off and walk away. If you like your heroes, rough, dirty and possessive to the extreme, come on in and have some fun…
This book is for my female readers and all of the men who’ve been obsessed with them.
Chapter One
Bree
“You’re lying.”
My father just sighs. He looks so worn out. Tired. When did he start showing his age like this?
It’s like all of the years caught up to him in one week. I could be going crazy but I don’t think that he had this many gray hairs last week.
“Just go clean table six,” he says, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. “Please, Bree.”
“Dad,” I say, tossing the rag onto the stainless steel counter of the waitress station. “What happened?”
His eyes drop to the tiled floor. “Nothing.”
The cast on his arm is telling a different story.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
He runs a hand through his no lon
ger brown hair and takes a deep breath, holding it in as he closes his eyes in frustration. “Can you just clean the table, please?” he asks, looking like he’s about to crumble from stress.
I open my mouth to reply but then think twice about it. He looks like he’s under a ton of pressure and he doesn’t need me adding to it. “Sure, Dad,” I say, taking the damp rag. “Why don’t you go take a walk outside? Try to relax a little bit.”
He gives me a tight smile. “Good idea. It’s not like there’s much going on in here.” He looks past me to the almost empty dining room and sighs.
I’m worried about him. My father has poured everything into this restaurant for the two of us but lately, nothing has worked and the people just aren’t coming.
I walk through the maze of empty tables to the one dirty table by the fireplace. It was a nice couple. They only shared a couple of appetizers. Two drinks. Not nearly enough to pay this week’s bills.
It’s Friday night and this place should be bumping but instead there’s only crickets. Literally, crickets. They come in through the side door.
I glance back over my shoulder at my father as he walks past the cooks who are hanging around, either chatting to each other or on their phones. Each one is getting paid by the hour. And with no money coming in, it’s money coming out of my father’s life savings, money coming from Visa, and worst of all, money adding to his debt to Cormac Connolly.
Mr. Connolly is the head of the Irish mafia in the area. The man who you don’t make eye contact with. The man who you cross the street when you see him coming in the opposite direction. The man who can take your life.
My father never told me the truth of where he got the money to open this restaurant but I have a few guesses. One in particular.
You see my father grew up with these people. His parents were poor Irish immigrants and my dad grew up in a neighborhood of poor Irish immigrants. So when he needed to borrow money to open up a restaurant he didn’t go to a bank. He did what people who grew up where he grew up did, he borrowed it from Cormac Connolly.
And I’m sure that’s how he got his broken arm.
The restaurant hasn’t been busy. I’ve been here and seen it with my own two eyes. I can’t imagine how my father is paying the bills. Simply, he’s not.
I pick up the empty glasses on the dirty table and push the chair back in when I’m done. A cricket jumps out from behind the chair leg and chirps, mocking me. They know I won’t kill them. I don’t have the heart to.
“Come on,” I say, pushing it gently with my foot toward the side door. “You have to order something if you want to stay. Lord knows we need the business.”
The cricket is a stubborn one but I do my best Wayne Gretzky with my foot and guide him toward the side door.
“And stay out,” I say to him as I open the door and push him out. “And tell your friends.”
He leaps out of the restaurant and I smile when he disappears into the long grass. I’ll probably see him again tomorrow.
A big heavy hand grabs the door from me and rips it open, nearly taking me with it.
“Oops,” I say, as I try to steady the glasses in my hand that almost fell. “That was a close one, I almost-”
The words vanish from my throat when I look up with a dropped jaw. Two of the largest men that I’ve ever seen walk through the door like they own the place.
And according to the shamrock tattoos on their neck, they do.
I don’t know their names but I know who they are. I also know to stay away from them.
They are Mr. Connolly’s two best enforcers. The two that he trusts the most. The two deadliest in his criminal organization.
My heart races as they barrel past me into the dining room. They’re so big that I feel a gust of wind as they walk by, like a train blowing past me.
“Would you two like a table?” I ask. My voice is small. Weak. Timid.
There’s an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realize that they’re here for my father and not for the nearly expired chicken wings or soggy salads.
“Where’s Arthur?” the larger one with the long red beard asks.
My voice is gone. My mouth is so dry as the soggy salad that I ate earlier threatens to come back up.
“Office,” the other one grunts. He’s got a scar on his cheek and violent eyes that make me want to run out the door.
“Wait,” I say, finally finding my voice as they walk towards the kitchen. “My father is gone for the weekend. He’ll be back on Monday.”
They just ignore me as they step into the back. I follow them as my mind races, wondering what to do.
The cooks all scatter like the cockroaches hiding under the grill when they see the two goons coming. They grab their phones and sprint out the back door, leaving my father to face these two thugs all by himself.
I swallow hard as I steel my nerves. Not all by himself. He’s got me.
But what can I do against two mountains?
They walk straight up to the door of my father’s office and walk right in.
“Bree,” he says with exasperation in his voice. “I told you that I-”
His mouth drops when he sees who it is.
“Brock. Lynch,” he says, looking up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Brock is the one with the long red beard. He doesn’t like that question. “What are we doing here?” he asks as he walks up to my dad. “We own the fucking place.”
My father gets up from his chair as the goon comes closer. He looks so small compared to the two of them. He doesn’t stand a chance.
Brock sits down on his chair and puts his feet on the desk, knocking over a coffee that spills on some invoices. He never takes his hard eyes off of my trembling father.
“I, uh, I thought Mr. Connolly said the payment was due on Monday.” I’ve never heard such fear in my father’s voice. It makes my muscles quiver.
“He changed his mind,” Brock says, leaning back in the chair.
Lynch is just standing there like a statue with his huge arms crossed over his massive chest. He’s eying my father like an alpha lion watching a helpless mouse.
“Tell me you have it,” Brock says, stroking his long red beard. “Please tell me that, Arthur. I don’t want to have to break your other arm. Or the arm of your pretty daughter.”
My heart stops when I hear that. I’m in the hallway and I could easily run away. I could run out the door and be on a bus away from here before they even know that I’m gone but I can’t leave my father with these two thugs. If I can help, I will.
“Please leave Bree out of this,” he begs, looking terrified now. “She’s such a good girl and she has nothing to do with this. She didn’t ask for this.”
“She asked for this when she went ahead and had a broke loser for a father,” Brock says, grinning.
“Please.” My father’s chin is trembling.
Brock chuckles as he gets up. “Luckily for her, the boss said only to rough you up. But I’m guessing that if you don’t give us next week’s payment, that will change.”
My stomach drops as I listen. I didn’t realize things were that bad. What has my dad gotten us into?
“You have the money?” Brock asks, closing in on my father. He towers over him like an executioner.
My dad’s face goes as white as the still unpainted walls of his office. He rushes to the desk and grabs a paper off it. “Look,” he says, panicking. “This is an invoice for ten crates of tomatoes.” The invoice is shaking in his hands as he looks up at them with desperate eyes. “Three of the crates were rotten. I’m getting a refund tomorrow and as soon as I do, I’ll run over to Mr. Connolly’s office and pay him the money.”
“With tomatoes?” Brock asks, chuckling. “You want to pay the head of the Irish mafia with tomatoes?”
“No,” my dad says, shaking his head violently. “With the refund. Cash. Real money.”
Brock turns to Lynch with a grin. “What do you think, Lynch? Do you think th
at Mr. Connolly would like to be paid a day late, with rotten tomatoes?”
Lynch just shakes his huge head.
“It’s real money!” my dad shrieks as Brock steps forward.
Without thinking, I race to the kitchen and grab the biggest butcher’s knife that I can find. They’re not going to lay a finger on my father if I can help it.
I sprint back, squeezing the handle so hard that my knuckles burn. When I return, Lynch is holding my screaming father down on the table as Brock extends his good arm.
I know what’s going to happen next so I burst into the room, slashing the knife through the air like a little redheaded pirate. “Let him go!” I scream.
The two goons turn to me with smirks on their faces.
“Is she your bodyguard?” Brock asks with a chuckle.
“Bree!” my dad screams. “Get out of here!” He looks even more terrified now than when the enforcers grabbed him.
I hold the knife out, trying to look confident and dangerous but feeling the opposite on the inside. I can’t even kill a cricket, so why am I threatening to kill two humans?
My standoff doesn’t last long.
Lynch lunges at me impossibly fast and grabs my wrist with an iron grip. I drop the knife and scream as he squeezes it, feeling like every bone in my wrist is snapping.
“Leave her!” my dad screams, desperately trying to get up but it’s pointless with the mountain of a man, Brock holding him down like that.
“Teach her a lesson,” Brock says, grinning as he watches me.
I don’t even see the punch coming.
One second, I’m being held up by Lynch’s powerful grip and the next second, I’m slumped on the floor with my left eye burning, my head pounding, and my knees weak like they’re made of Jello-O.
Guarding Her Body Page 6
