Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2)

by Alice May Ball

  And then his wet, mobile tongue was inside me, slipping along my lips, trilling at the base of my aching clitoris, and sliding into my opening. My legs shook so violently and my thighs clenched so hard that I thought I might crush his head. And I didn’t fucking care. I came, rolling, trembling waves of orgasm burst and rocked through me.

  I grabbed him by his hair and I pulled him as hard into me as I could. I laughed and wept, I sobbed and shouted his name. I must have squirted in his face, because my thighs were running with wetness. Through the spasms I heard him, “Yes, Ceris. YES! Come. COME FOR ME, NOW!”

  And I did. I twitched, and my buttocks and my thighs clenched so hard I thought that my spine and pelvis would tear apart. I withstood fabulous, seismic spasms bursting through me. I came so hard and yet, somehow, still I stood.

  When he stood again, there was no sign of composure on his wet face. I smiled to see his lovely golden hair completely mussed and his eyes so wild. He looked in my eyes and grinned. Then he released the clamps and I fell to a moaning heap on the floor.

  His laugh was like a taunt. It was an amplified version of that damned grin.

  When I was able, I got to my knees, level with his beautiful hips, level with that magnificent monster pulsing in his pants. As I reached towards him, my lips wet and parting, he said, “AH!” and wagged a finger.

  “I have had all the pleasure of you so far.” Tyler said. “I think it’s time to give Brock and Amon a reward. Haven’t they been good?”

  The two big, gorgeous brothers with the same lustrous golden-brown hair watched me with the same gorgeous. The triplets. Their golden skin glistened in the low light. The scent was still there.

  As the two huge, naked men approached and Tyler shed his clothes, I didn’t know how I was going to tell the great men apart, until I discovered a way. They were all big, in every way. But in one way more strikingly than any other.

  Their cocks were incredibly long and thick. Longer and thicker than any I’d ever seen before. The slick, dark head of Amon’s cock rose up and above his navel. Brock’s was longer still, and nearly as fat. Tyler’s length was in between the other two, but his cock was even thicker. Its weight kept it pointed right at me.

  Tyler and Amon held me and took turns kissing me. Brock was eager to hold and feel my swollen, heaving breasts. Amon moved behind me and rubbed his massive, hot member between my quivering thighs. It stretched along my lips, rubbed up against my hot clit and poked a few inches out under my fuzzy mound.

  I couldn’t imagine how much of that long, hard beast he thought he would be able to shove inside me. He dragged it back until he was able to jam the heavy head of it into my dripping lips. It shoved my opening wide and I had to move my legs apart to give it easier access.

  Then he reached for my breasts as the bulb burst into me. My pelvis rocked. I had seen how long he was, but I wasn’t prepared for his width. As he shoved it farther up me, I bent forwards, my hands clasped and my mouth stretched.

  Brock took that as a cue, and brought his fat, throbbing cock nearer to my face. He beat it on my cheeks and the weight of it shocked me. He banged it on my big, soft breasts and rubbed it between them.

  Amon pushed in and the stretch in my insides was the most intense, good pain I had known. It was ecstatically good pain. But it was a lot of it. My eyes rolled and my mouth filled with sweet saliva.

  I began to say, “Oh, oooooh, it’s tooo biiiig!” But the dark spicy scent of man filled my head as Brock pushed his thick, hot rod between my lips. Amon stretched me wider than I thought I could go and I wriggled my hips to try to open them further.

  Brock’s wide ridges pushed my mouth open as his slick, hard bulb dragged its smoky tang along the length of my tongue and all the way to the back of my throat. I’ve taken a cock in my throat before, but I never felt my neck bulge and stretch like it did around Brock.

  My feet lifted in turn as I tried to make a wider opening for Amon. He lifted my leg high, and that helped some. He was still way too long and far too fat for me, though. As he sawed into me, I didn’t know how much of that scrumptious pain I could bear.

  To take my mind off it, I concentrated on drawing and suckling on Brock’s fat cock as he slid it between my wide-stretched lips. His shaft began to pulse after a series of long, hard strokes that made him hotter than ever. I knew it would be time for him to come soon.

  And it was. Brock growled as his huge cock burst into my throat in a volley of hot blasts. His thick, salty jizz filled my throat and slid around my tongue and my mouth. He pumped and pumped, and as it reached my lips and he pulled out, I gasped and I said, “Mmm, delicious. But it’s too hot!”

  Brock held me as Amon pulled out of my sore pussy and came around to pump his cock into my mouth, too. It was easier to get his head and his girth into my mouth, and his taste was distinct but just as wonderful.

  His length, though, I couldn’t get my lips more than about two thirds of the way along the hot, pumping rail as it reamed into my throat. I sucked as hard as I could, and in no time rings of beating pulse ridged along his massive cock and he was spurting thick gobs of hot semen into my mouth and throat.

  “Mmm,” I wiped my lips and my mouth, and pushed the gorgeous man-juice all in. “Too thick,” I said, but it was delicious and I gulped it all down.

  Then Tyler brought his huge marvel of manhood to my waiting lips. As I got my mouth busy around his fat, fabulous shaft, Brock was getting to work behind me, rubbing his thick, stiffening cock against my swollen, wet petals.

  As I sucked on Tyler, Brock began to breach my opening. I thought Amon was thick! Brock stretched my lips, my walls and my pain threshold. My poor little puss pumped and drooled over him, and he lifted my leg even higher than Amon had done. My back arched and stretched, my mouth pulled wide and my muscles flexed.

  Brock was just too thick. He slid in and out of me, forcing me wider. My wet throat vibrated and pulsed. Wrapped tight around Tyler’s perfect penis, it made him pump harder and he grew hotter. I cried out when Brock stiffened and beat harder, but the sound only became a rumble on Tyler’s cock. Brock was getting ready to deliver me a second helping of his thick cum.

  The dark tang of Tyler’s precum told me that his first serving wasn’t far away, and he held me by my hair as he drove his cock into my face in earnest. My tongue stretched along his bottom ridges and relished his perfect taste.

  He pounded my mouth and his heat rose, at the same time as Brock began to blast away in my sore, wide stretched pussy.

  My hands clenched, my buttocks tightened, and my stomach rolled as Brock practically split me open and came in blasts inside me. Tyler made a throaty growl as his cock pulsed into my throat. The taste, the temperature, and the texture of him was luscious and I swallowed every last drop.

  Brock filled me with his sticky bolts of hot, thick cum and my climaxes crested and crashed. My poor pussy ached when he slid out. I had learned to love the pain he caused me, though.

  Amon approached me with his massive mast uncoiling, working up to his second showing. I was relieved when he lifted me and laid me on my back on a table and hoisted my ankles over his shoulders.

  The other two brothers came up either side by my shoulders so I could stroke and suck their fantastic cocks, to give myself some distraction for what I knew was to come. Amon brought his shaft to the wet center of my sore petals. My back stretched and my legs spread as he bored into me.

  Amon filled me so full and so hard I sucked on Tyler’s and Brock’s cocks, and I yanked on my nipples in turn. I bit my forearm and my hands clutched. His length was almost unbearable, but at least he wasn’t as wide as his brother Brock.

  As Amon beat his rod hard into my soft canal, I felt him twitch, he growled, and I knew that it was going to be time for him to cum again. Amon’s second salty salvo splashed inside me, and his growl was like low thunder as he came.

  Tyler stroked my hair as he lifted me gently onto his cock. My legs and arms wrapped tight around hi
m so he wore me like a skin.

  My plump, wet softness opened wide to let him in, and my walls closed around him, hugging him. His length was breathtaking, and his girth, heart stopping. Tyler pumped into my pussy with his wonderful wand. His thighs beat against mine and his balls slapped gently against my ass.

  Tyler was just right. He filled me with his perfect hot cum. I squeezed, sucked, and bucked against him with every part of me to get every drop I could out of him. Tyler’s cum was hot and slick and it filled me to perfection.

  He growled, I shouted, and we came together like the clouds of a bursting rainstorm.

  Afternoon was fading into an autumn evening as we sat on deck and the sun began to set. Brock said, “You are going to be our perfect mom, Ceris.”

  Amon brought champagne on a silver tray and he said, “You are the woman we have all been dreaming of.”

  I looked in Tyler’s eyes as he told me, “You will be the perfect mother for our cubs.”

  “About the servings, Tyler.”

  He stroked my hair. “Yes, Ceris. What about them?”

  “What are the third and fourth servings like?”

  BONUS STORIES

  Lord Chatterton of Wimbush is Roger O’Cock’s father and a terrible man. He’s my father, too, more’s the pity. Yes, I am his daughter, to my everlasting regret and for more reasons than I can say.

  Of course, he didn’t tell me any of what follows, or warn me about any of the things that were bound to happen to me. Things that I needed to know then and as my circumstances inevitably changed. I didn’t find out until it was all way too late for me.

  Lord Chatterton for instance, despises his son and heir because he believes him to be, in fact, a bastard. The spawn of his mother’s torrid affair with the gardener and handyman.

  “Far too damned handy, by a damned long way!” Father roared, “Got every damned one of the servant girls pregnant. There was a rumor that the housekeeper Mrs. Bustley’s second child was by him. He was caught in the kitchen during dinner one evening with Mrs. Humpforth the cook, spreadeagled on the pantry table as he thrust his seed into her. During dinner, damnit. The soup was ruined and nobody could face the trifle.”

  “It is to my certain knowledge, because I found my lady, bent over on the backseat of the Daimler with Hardforth royally pummeling her fat arse. She groaned and shouted in the most disgusting manner, and when she saw me, she said, ‘God, it’s good to get filled by a real man. Hardforth is like a tree-trunk. Not like your knobbly little royal twig. She reached back and spread her buttocks wide and she looked right in my face as she howled and red-faced Hardforth pumped her full of his steaming, filthy, peasant batter.”

  But he hates Roger even more because, bastard or not, he is legally Lord Chatterton’s first-born son. The Lord divorced his wife. “When I saw Clarissa getting reamed in that disgusting fashion, I resolved immediately to have her ejected from the household, to divorce the trollop and cut her off without a penny. Knew I had to wait the nine months, though. We’d been trying for a son for three years. Only reason I married the harpy in the first place.

  “Need to have a damned son and heir, first family duty, even if it is a sickening little bastard like Roger. But, while I made my plans to be rid of Clarissa, I remembered her face in the back of the Daimler and thought to myself, ‘When duty is done and I’ve got the son and heir secure, I wonder if then I might like to have a ripe, gorgeous, fat little harlot for myself. And that’s when I found your mother. I was in a filthy dive in Las Vegas, and there she was dancing at tables. As well as on them and, quite gratifyingly, underneath them, too.

  “First sight of the big ruby signet ring, she gobbled my lordly lance down like a professional sword-swallower. I thought, ‘hey-ho! What have we here?’ She showed me a jelly-roll, begged me for a pearl necklace. Took it straight up the tradesman’s entrance on our first night. And almost every night thereafter. Filthy little slut your mother is, but my God, she could pump, suck, and fuck for her country. And she loves it.”

  “The O’Cocks have had the title, and Wimbush, of course, the house and park, since the fourteenth century. My great, great, great eighteen times great grandfather, Roger Percivant O’Cock, had the title bestowed upon him by Prince Albert the Porcine. According to family legend it was for supplying him with the pick of the autumn fruit-seller girls from the Wimbush estate. Prince Albert enjoyed ripe young flesh in great abundance and the old sire, my ancestor, was only too keen to oblige his Royal Highness.”

  It would have made a good deal of difference to me and to the progress of my young and, relatively speaking, innocent life, had I known that story and its implications somewhat sooner.

  He calls Mother fat because Lord Wimbush himself is a horribly enlarged stick insect. Thin as a rake, wiry and gaunt. A long, thin face with piercing, droopy gray eyes and a shock of white hair. Mother has a figure that would be way better than average for any woman half her age. And, it’s true, more than anything else, she does like to bump and grind, as much, as often and with as many panting partners participant as possible.

  She is not indiscriminate, she has very specific tastes and requirements for her men, but she seems able to find an astonishing number of candidates to meet her exacting standards.

  I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard her through a closed door telling an unsuspecting plumber or delivery boy what he has to show her. How to perform the tests. Father wouldn’t pass any of them, obviously.

  I asked Mother about that once. She said, “I give a by for royalty or great wealth.”

  But I digress.

  The first time I saw Roger was that day at school, when I was only just sixteen and he was eighteen. An unusual way for us to meet, seeing as he was my brother, or half brother, supposedly, but there it was.

  “Hey, Sister!” His cut-glass English boarding school vowels rang like a bell through the room. As I looked up, I felt the eyes of everyone in the whole lunchroom turn on me.

  He was in the center of the noise at the big table with a couple of sketchy buddies. A thick cloud of girls clustered, chattered, squabbled and giggled all around him. His strawberry blond curls bobbed above the throng, like a Michelangelo rising out of a scene in some twisted horror version of Glee.

  Chairs scraped and rattled when his watery gray eyes swung their beams over to the corner where I sat, peeling the saran wrap from the little sandwiches that Mother had made for me.

  It was status, a thing of pride, if kids from the higher grades even deigned to acknowledge your existence. It just was not that common. Didn’t even matter if they were relatives. And he wasn’t. Well he was, technically. Or supposed to be, it all got a bit complicated but at that time he was a total stranger to me.

  The fact that it was him calling me should have made it extra cool for me. It was his first day at the school and everybody was already crazy around him. The boys all looked up to him like he was a rockstar, and all the girls were elbowing each other out of the way, desperate to fall under his wheels and as soon as humanly possible.

  “Come over here, Sis,” he called, “Come and look at this little skank for me.” He looked around the girls in the group, “That’s right, isn’t it? ‘Skank’ is the correct term for a young harlot, I believe.” The way that he drew the vowels out of the word ‘harlot,’ he made them uncurl and stretch in the air. It rang like an ancient and forbidden curse.

  I knew that they were all looking at me, thinking, ‘how can this British toff have that frump for a sister?’ Except they would probably be saying something a whole lot worse than ‘frump.’ I can’t think about it. Even now.

  I wanted to be at the center of his attention though, just like everybody did, and I had no idea who he was. Still I kept him waiting while I finished my sandwich. Somehow I knew that was the way. Then I padded over to the edge of the heaving mass around the table.

  All the girls, all older than me with their on-trend hair and makeup, they all squinted down their noses an
d took an extra second or two to get out of the way. Making a point. The point being to show him, ‘I wouldn’t make way for this dumpy brat, I’m only doing it to show respect to you.’