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

by Alice May Ball

  James’ eyes gleamed and he said, “So that’s your game,” he looked at Adrian, “Lady wants to see the guardsmen wrestle naked.”

  Adrian pulled off his vest, exposing his glistening, downy abs as he said to James, “Make a good show and all that,” and he stood as he began to pull down his zipper.

  The two men crouched, panting, Adrian in his black, silky Calvins, James wearing only his tight white cotton briefs. Their fine bodies were hot, clenched, tense and ready to spring. They circled each other on the thick cream rug.

  I slipped into the bathroom and returned with a bottle of baby oil. James face spread into a predatory grin. “Catch as catch can,” he said then, leering at me, “Tag team, eh? Only fair.” I handed him the bottle.

  As he moistened his skin, rubbing the oil all over, with a filthy leer he said, “Disrobe, madam,” before he handed the bottle to Adrian.

  Adrian massaged the oil onto his arms and his chest, looked at me, looked me up and down breathing hard. With a grin he said, “Only fair.”

  I unbuttoned the front of my dress, slowly. James and Adrian grappled with each other’s oily skin. I left the last three buttons done up, and opened the front of the dress to show my full, creamy breasts heaving at the top of my lovely red French silky bra.

  Adrian and James came to a clinch. They grabbed each other’s buttocks. Hard. Their cocks rubbed against each other, both big, full and straining at the fabric that encased them.

  James spun Adrian around. Now they both faced me. James’s hands ran hadr down Adrian’s chest, his stomach, over his tight, hard, bulging thighs. Then up, over his Calvins. Gripping his hard, fat cock.

  Adrian’s eyes closed as James’ hand slipped inside. I opened the last three buttons, revealing the tops of my stockings and my hot, naked mound.

  James pulled Adrian’s cock out and rubbed it, forcefully while his other hand slipped into the back of Adrian’s pants. Adrian’s head rolled and his eyes opened lazily. In their narrow slits, his eyes blazed and shone.

  I shrugged of my dress, slipped the straps of my bra. Unclasped it and pushed my upper arms together, making my breasts swell forward as I let the bra slip off. James pulled out his big, hard, fat cock.

  With his cock pressed against Adrian’s ass, James nibbled Adrian’s ear. Naked now, except my stockings and high-heeled shoes, I stepped in closer. The hot, urgent scent of my weeping sex mingled with the rising scents of the two big men.

  My breasts pressed against the oiled ridges of Adrian’s hard abs, and they heaved against me, squeezing my soft breasts. My nipples rubbed against his damp, hot flesh.

  My hand met James’ on the hard, curved length of Adrian’s oily, throbbing cock. James’s other hand worked into Adrian’s ass, and Adrian moaned. He bent his head to kiss me. Our tongues explored each other and danced a hot tango.

  James’s hand released Adrian’s cock, and slid around my waist then slipped to stroke and caress my ass. He squeezed where my thigh met my buttock. I reached around to feel Adrian’s great, strong buttocks.

  It thrilled me to feel Adrian’s ass under my palm while James’s groin pressed on my knuckles. Adrian’s huge muscle clenched as I gripped it. I found James’ long, hard cock burrowing in the cleft. James’ hand on my ass tightened.

  I sucked on Adrian’s tongue and squeezed my breasts hard against him, and I shuddered, excited by a huge, hot, eager cock in each hand. Two strong, hot young guardsmen, two hard, taut, lean male bodies. I pulled Adrian’s cock tight against my stomach. It almost reached my breasts.

  I looked into Adrian’s dreamy eyes as our mouths released each other, then I watched, thrilled and excited as the two men’s lips trembled towards each other, paused, poised in readiness a their eyes flicked between each other’s eye and mouth and back and fell, then, on each other, with ravenous force.

  As their bodies reached and flowed around their muscular kiss, I ducked down to take Adrian’s cock onto my wet tongue and into my hot mouth. He stiffened between my lips and along my tongue. My cheeks clung to him and his pulse sang through his veins.

  James pushed Adrian roughly to bend forward. I crouched and craned to keep him in my mouth as James prepared to enter him. It was worth it. As James’ cock bored into Adrian’s ass, Adrian’s cock jerked in my mouth, swelling, pulsing and lengthening even more.

  Adrian groaned, moaned and whimpered. James’ sounds were like a jockey, or a boxer. They were rough, demanding and guttural.

  I reached up along Adrian’s thighs, up to James’ cock where it reamed into Adrian’s trembling buttocks. I held the shaft and stroked firmly down to James’ sac. I snaked a finger further, up along the crevice to James’ own tight star.

  I pressed there and heard James growl as I felt him shake in response. I lay back on the couch in front of the two men to watch. My thighs spread apart and my fingers pulled my wet petals wide. My fingers couldn’t keep away from the base of my clit, and the folds around its soaking, hooded cowl.

  My thighs twitched and my pelvis bucked asI watched the sweat gleam and run on James’ hard, pumping body. I watched him impale Adrian, and I watched Adrian’s face drip in the sweet contortions of agonized ecstasy.

  James slapped Adrian’s ass hard, over and over as he pounded him. Then he pulled out. Roughly, he shoved the top of Adrian’s head. Adrain sank to his knees. James growled, “Clean my lance,” and he thrust his cock deep and hard into Adrian’s mouth.

  James clutched Adrian’s head and face fucked him hard. My fingers flew with a frantic force on and around my thickening bud and my widening wet lips. My juices flowed like a waterfall.

  James looked hungrily at me. Breathily he asked, “May I assist at all?”

  My eyes pleaded at him, “Yes. Stop showing me your cock and stick it up me.”

  He jerked his cock out of Adrian’s mouth and stepped to the couch. His big hands scooped me up by my buttocks and he lowered my needy pussy to engage onto his hot, fat cock.

  I gasped as the head filled my opening then I clenched and shook as he burst inside me. He stretched and filled me, slamming harder and further into me.

  I beat my hands on his shoulders and chest. That only spurred him on. His balls slapped against the cheeks of my ass and his pubic hair slammed into mine. I wrapped my arms around his head, pressing his face into my swelling breasts as he pumped and poleaxed me.

  My legs wrapped around him, I took him as far into me as I could and rammed along his fat, throbbing length, faster and faster. I shouted, “Yes, yes, you fucker, FUCK ME!”

  I gushed onto his cock as it pumped a fountain of hot, sticky juice to drench me and fill me. He pumped and pumped and I ground onto him and clenched and squeezed on him.

  I fell back onto the couch and I was still coming as Adrian brought his lovely weapon to my face. I gripped his buttocks as I took him through my hot, wet lips, into my salivating mouth and deep into my throat.

  Adrian pressed my head in encouragement and I felt his cock swell and pulse before it splashed into my throat and filled my mouth. He pushed until my face was buried in the dark, hot sweet sweat of his groin.

  His salty, tangy cum overflowed from my lips and dribbled on my cheeks, down my chin and dripped onto my hot breasts. As my breath heaved and I subsided, James and Adrian bent down to kiss and lick me, like kittens nuzzling their mama.

  The receptionist answered and said, “Quinn, Holden, Farst, good morning.”

  When she heard who I was her voice cooled and she put me straight through. “Mr. Quinn?”

  His honeyed tone started a glow in my panties, “Marston, please Mrs. Chatterton.”

  “Marston. I’m calling to tell you personally that I’m withdrawing my legal business from your firm.”

  “Really, Mrs. Chatterton?”

  “Yes, Marston, I no longer want to be your client.”

  “I see.”

  “You have the whole weekend to persuade me to transfer my business back on Monday.”

  “I see�
�”

  “See what you can think of that might induce me,” I told him.

  Then I took in some shops and had my hair done, ready to meet Marston for dinner.

  © Alice May Ball TzR Publishing, 2015-2016

  2nd Edition (formerly titled Royal Brit Bastard)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to any actual events is purely coincidental.

  All the people portrayed in this story are over the age of eighteen, and entirely imaginary. If you think that you know some of them, or that you may be one of them, then you should consider writing fiction yourself.

  Cover Design by Signs of Desire for TzR Publishing

  TWO HITMEN - Epilogue

  For once I had managed to get some time in there alone to shower and brush my hair. Leaning over the sink I peered hard into the wavy, distorted image. The mirror in the bathroom block was just metal, you couldn’t really see your face in the smeary shine. Not that you’d want to be reminded how you were looking in here. Very few inmates wore makeup and those who did would do it in their cells, not here.

  My face seemed blotchy and I moved from side to side, pulling the skin on my cheek as I tried to figure out which parts of what I saw were me and which were stains and marks on the steel surface. The bloodshot reflection of my eye was unmistakeable, though. That was me.

  The memory of the prosecutor bounced in my mind. His voice rolled around in my head like the villain’s echoey cackle in a horror movie. Whatever I did to try and make it go away, the picture of him popped right back up. The used car dealer from hell. His grin was smooth as he told me, “Let me lay out your options for you, Mrs Cullen.”

  A cold shudder trickled down my spine as I tried not to remember it. A soft clunk behind me made me freeze. It was the door closing. In the hazy reflection, when I looked up I saw the shape of a figure behind me. Big and broad in silhouette. I couldn’t make out the face or any clear signs of who it was. The size and shape were enough, though. I knew.

  My thin cellmate had given me a whispered guide to the local celebrities and the faces to watch. As we shuffled along the breakfast line among the rattle of tin cups and tin bowls, with her eyes on the floor, she tilted her shoulder or inclined her head and murmured names.

  After each name she said, “Don’t go near that one,” and “Stay away from her. “She’s one you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.” All of the women Shayla pointed out were, according to her, women to avoid and be afraid of.

  As we sat to huddle at the end of a long trestle she indicated a huge blonde woman inmate with a loud laugh, a circle of hunched followers and a wide grin that flashed with gold when she threw back her head and let loose her braying laugh. Any time an inmate made a distinct sound above a murmur, one of the women guard whacked a nightstick on the table right by the side of her. Not this one, though. Not Zarina.

  Zarina’s braying voice startled me. “Outside people ask about you.” The hairs on the back of my neck straightened in waves as I felt her come closer. Her voice was soft. Near. “You’re something it seems.”

  My whole body tingled. My fingers, resting on the cold steel sink trembled.

  She shouted, “You.” I didn’t know what to do.

  “Turn. Look me in the eye.” I didn’t want to. But I did. Instinct took over. Her blonde hair in huge, ornate waves, made her look like a pale Samoan supermodel squeezed into prison coveralls. The shelf of her breasts was level with my chin. She probably could have knocked me out just by shaking her shoulders.

  Her eyes were hard and a gray that matched the mirror. The echo of her voice filled the room. “You.” She snarled, “You’re worth something. Or so it seems.”

  I was backed against the sink with nowhere to go. Nothing in either hand. Nothing I could even reach for. A cloth, a quarter of a bar of hard soap and a cheap plastic hairbrush. I didn’t see a way that I could defend myself with any of those things.

  “Somebody has a message they want you to get.”

  The lump in my throat was too hard for me to swallow. I feared I might choke.

  Her perfume was overpowering. “Prosecutor comes today, no?”

  With my lips pressed together I nodded.

  Her head craned down towards me. I was backed up and unsteady over the sink, her voice ground like rusty machinery. “You tell him go fuck himself.”

  I blinked.

  “You keep quiet. You got a ticket out of here.” Her eyes narrowed. “Any trouble,” her nose was against mine, “Anyone wants to fuck with you,” her grin split wide open showing the metal in her teeth, “I break them.” The word ‘break’’ rolled long and hard in the tiled room. She put a hand on my shoulder and it took all my self-control to keep from collapsing.

  “Now,” she said, “Now you’re with me. You got two, two and a half weeks and you’re out of here.”

  Her arm went around my shoulders and her massive hand clapped on my arm. “You got friends outside.” She squeezed. “And now, you got one inside, too.”

  At breakfast, when I went to get in line, Zarina was near the front. Her teeth shone like lamps as she grinned and beckoned me over. Among the clatter of metal plates on metal tables and the yammering of voices, I felt a small slice of quiet follow me across the room as I went to stand by Zarina. I tried not to show my nervous apprehension as I let my eyes cast around the dining hall. I felt as though everybody, literally everybody, was carefully not watching me. Like the indirect attention of the whole prison population just blew around me like a breeze.

  When I went to sit at my isolated corner, Zarina punched me on the shoulder. Gently enough that it was playful. Hard enough so I knew that it didn’t have to be. I slid onto the bench, looking up at her. Maybe she was planning to ask me to join her at her table. She didn’t press it. She ruffled my hair. Like I was a cute little dog.

  All through breakfast her eyes danced over to me. Time after time.

  Still, as I left the dining hall, went to the library, picked out a book, and made my way back up the landings and steps to my cell, nobody bothered me. Nobody thought about it. Nobody stood in my way. People even moved aside.

  Power like that, in a place like that. That’s pretty scary.

  Knees drawn up to my chin, sitting on my bunk with the book, it was about twenty minutes before Kaplan, the shovel-faced guard, banged on my cell door.

  “You’re moving, Cullen.” she told me, “Grab your shit.” She tapped her foot loudly for all of the 40 seconds it took me to gather my things. She spun out of the door and I followed the clop of her thick heels out and along the landing. She led me up a clanking flight of iron steps, along two more landings, up another flight of steps, and along to the back of the next block.

  Halfway along that landing, she stopped and pushed open a door. Without a word, she stood aside and I knew this was to be my new home.

  There were two beds. No bunk.

  The two beds looked about the same. I was about to drop my little clutch of possessions onto one of beds, when I heard Zarina’s voice. “Nuh-uh.” She said with a grin. “The other one’s you.”

  She looked across at Kaplan. Lifted an eyebrow. Kaplan turned. Blinked as she left.

  Etheridge, the thin, rumpled attorney,shuffled papers in his shabby case as he hunched over the metal table. His face was long and sad, like one of those dogs with the droopy jowls and the long floppy ears. He looked like a kindly funeral director. One whose business was not all that good.