Lola & the Millionaires: Part One

by Kathryn Moon

  Jesus fucking Christ, Rakim Oren was eating me out. I was so used to the playful, sexy man I’d gotten to know, I’d genuinely forgotten that he was, well, famous.

  “Don’t be so fucking shy, Rake,” Leo gasped on the line. “Fucking devour her.”

  Rake puffed a breath against my sex, and then I was shaking, barely able to keep the camera turned in the right direction as Rake’s tongue thrust up into me, his nose burrowing against my clit.

  “That’s it, gorgeous. Gush all over our man. You wanna ride him too?”

  If I was a Domme, then Leo was like the King of Dirty Talking. “Yes,” I whined, although I was totally already riding Rake.

  “His cock’s gonna feel so good in you. He’s gonna make you so slippery and soaked, but I want you to fucking ride him until he begs you to stop,” Leo said.

  I shivered as Rake pushed me up slightly, taking a deep breath and sucking hard on my clit, tongue swirling over the spot. Fuck. Almost, I wanted to say, but I didn’t want him to stop, to return the teasing I’d done earlier.

  “Don’t go easy on her,” Leo said.

  Rake moaned against me, and I echoed the sound as it vibrated through me. My breasts ached and I lifted one hand, squeezing them hard in turn. Rake’s tongue returned to my center, thrusting against my entrance, forcing the tip in, and he nuzzled roughly against my clit.

  “Your thighs are shaking, gorgeous. She’s ready.”

  I was so fucking ready.

  Bright lightning pops of pleasure burst inside of me, and Rake held me with an iron grip, suckling and drinking and gorging on me with open-mouthed hunger as the orgasm flooded through me, rushing like lava through every muscle up into my head and then back down again, all the way to my toes.

  “That’s it. That’s it. Slower now,” Leo purred, and then he broke out in laughter.

  My eyes had fallen shut, and Rake pushed me from his mouth as I started to tip forward, he and Leo laughing as the phone slipped from my hands back onto the bed.

  “Fuck. Oh my god,” I moaned, catching my fall by my palms and pulling in a deep breath.

  “Put the phone somewhere I can watch,” Leo said.

  I tried to shake the daze out of my head, and it was Rake who wriggled up from beneath me, face glossy with my release. He picked the phone up and put it sideways on the table against the lamp, turning it until Leo could see us both, me braced and bent on the bed, with Rake beneath me. Leo turned his own phone, laying on his side, still pumping his cock just enough to keep himself hard without ending the game.

  “Gorgeous,” Leo said.

  I grinned at him and then looked down at Rake, mussed and flushed and panting. A mouth like his deserved a reward. I bent and Rake moaned as I folded his lips with mine, dragging one kiss after another, tasting myself on his lips. It was like the first time with Leo, but Leo was here, or close to it.

  “You do taste like heaven,” Rake murmured.

  I pecked his lips again and then reached past the phone on the nightstand for the condoms Rake had put out for us. His eyes tracked my hand, and he bit his lip.

  “I’m clean. I dunno if you’re on birth control but…” Rake trailed off and glanced at the phone where a grinning Leo was watching us, giving his own cock lazy strokes.

  “I started up again recently, and I’m clean too,” I said, shrugging. I usually used condoms anyway, and Leo had never brought up going without.

  “It’s just that I…I get kind of, um, messy,” Rake said, eyes widening. “And they don’t really make condoms that accommodate…”

  My eyebrows jumped. Fuck. So that was what Leo meant by Rake making me slippery. Why did that sound so hot?

  “But I know scents are hard for you—” Rake started.

  I dropped the condoms on the bed and rose up, checking to make sure Leo could still watch as I took Rake’s bouncing, dripping cock in my hand. Rake’s words died on his tongue. The flirtatious, deviant, sexual man of the past few weeks stilled, and all that was there in front of me was a desperate, breathless creature. I lined him up at my entrance, teasing the head of him against my soaked flesh, and Rake moaned, eyes blinking slowly.

  “Watch,” I said to him, and to Leo too, for that matter.

  I sank down and gasped as Rake slipped in. He was…soft. Not soft, but like…for all of his girth it was almost pillowy. He went in easily, and he filled me up without any of the sting of the stretch.

  “Oh my god,” I breathed. “Holy shit.”

  I bounced experimentally, and Rake’s hips rolled to chase me as I retreated.

  “Come on, gorgeous,” Leo called, his tone rough, his pumps more insistent. “Come on, let go.”

  I groaned and started to rock, to twist and bounce my hips on top of Rake. Maybe no one had mentioned this to Rake, but it seemed pretty fucking significant to me. His cock was like fucking…pussy magic. I giggled at the comparison, but I couldn’t think of how else to describe it. There was the friction I craved with sex, but every movement was so easy.

  “Fuck, god, Lola, you really worked me up. I’m gonna…I’m gonna come again, but don’t fuckin’ stop okay?”

  I nodded as Rake’s hands cupped my hips and he moved me over his lap. I braced my hands on his shoulder and joined him, rolling my hips so I could grind myself against his lap. The pace was fast and deep, the slap of skin wet and noisy. I watched Rake’s furrow of concentration as he gazed at where we were joined, the wet dew of sweat on his upper lip. I leaned down and sucked it into my mouth, and then whined and rocked into him harder.

  Rake shouted beneath me, body tensing, and he swelled inside of me, that first moment of stretch as he came.

  “Don’t stop, gorgeous,” Leo gasped.

  I nodded and fucked Rake as he shuddered, watched his throat flex as he struggled for breath, his grip loosening on my hips. That was all right, I’d found my rhythm. I pulled his hands up to my breasts, showing him how rough I liked it, and Rake swallowed, focusing on pinching my nipples as I took over the pace. I let myself fall roughly down his length, wet heat leaking out between us with every thrust, the crash tickling at my clit.

  Shit. Rake would be really good at rough sex. All the force with less of the day-after pain.

  “You like it, don’t you?” Leo asked, grinning.

  “I fucking love it,” I gasped.

  Rake moaned, his heels bracing against the bed so he could meet my thrusts, bodies pounding together and making me cry out every time we joined. He was perfectly deep, beautifully plush and thick inside of me, velvety soft as his cock pumped.

  I was babbling some combination of their names, and Leo was praising me as Rake got wilder. He came again, and the rush inside me made me shiver, almost made me come. It would be all right if I did. I had to keep going until Rake said stop, wasn’t that what Leo said?

  Arousal pooled on Rake’s groin, dripped down between us to the bed. Fuck. It was messy. It was messy and it was hot, and I laughed breathlessly as the slick slide of us made every twist and rub of our bodies smoother.

  “You tired?” Leo asked.

  My thighs were burning from effort, sweat dripping down my body, but I shook my head.

  “Good girl. Rake, get her off.”

  Rake’s hand dropped from breast to my clit, and with a quick flick and rub of his fingers I was arching back, shouting high and bright. Rake groaned and sat up with me, his arm circling my waist, fingers persistent on my clit.

  “Keep going, gorgeous. Squeeze tight around him, so tight,” Leo said. His words were unsteady now too, broken by the force of his hand on his cock.

  I was draped backward over Rake’s knees, my whole body weak with exhaustion, but I kept pushing. I did every damn kegel muscle trick I knew, rewarded by Rake’s long howls and wild bucking beneath me. Squeezing down on him didn’t force him out, but instead just gripped him tighter, and I realized I was doing something similar to a female alpha’s lock. My hands flew to the back of Rake’s head, and I pulled his mouth to mine,
pressing a vicious biting kiss to his bottom lip.

  My clit burned with his attention, and the fire exploded through me as Rake flooded me once more, totally out of control, movements broken. Leo called our names in broken pleasure from the phone. Rake whimpered against my lips and dragged me down with him as he fell to the bed. My own orgasm left me limp and shuddering on top of him.

  “‘Nough. Enough,” Rake gasped as I tried to keep moving. I sagged gratefully, and Leo chuckled.

  “Damn. Damn, I fucking wish I’d been in the room for that,” Leo gasped.

  “Shit, Lola, you wrecked me,” Rake said, chest heaving for air.

  “Think I wrecked myself,” I said, totally collapsed on his chest. I wiggled, and Rake grunted as I moved just enough to smile at the phone screen. There was a little splash of white on Leo’s chest and I licked my own lips, wishing it was him I was tasting.

  “Tomorrow night,” Leo said. “Even if we’re just all watching each other wack off, I don’t care. Just can’t wait to get back to you guys.”

  I snorted and buried my blush against Rake’s chest. “Love you, babe,” Rake said to the phone.

  “Love you,” Leo echoed. There was a pause, and he added, “Miss you both. So much.”

  “Miss you too,” I answered, looking back to drink up Leo’s heavy stare until he disconnected the call.

  Rake sighed, his arms circling my back and his lips pressing a series of kisses to my forehead. “Give me like…twenty seconds to catch my breath, and then I’ll carry us to the shower.”

  I wiggled to start to roll away and stopped immediately at the first sensation of thick slick seeping out between us. It was a startling feeling, but also strangely erotic, a faint tease to start all over again. Rake waggled his eyebrows at me, and I broke out into peals of giggles.

  “Mm, okay, you squirming on top of me feels too good. We better get into the shower now,” Rake said, sitting up and bundling me against his chest, never pulling out as he raced out of the warm bed and for the bathroom.

  My laughter echoed over the tile until it turned to moans under the steam.

  Nineteen

  Lola

  Rake was snoring softly, sprawled out face down on the mattress like a starfish, one of his arms and legs draped over me. The clock on the nightstand only read eleven thirty-eight, and while I was physically exhausted from the night, my mind was running one hundred thoughts a second.

  What was I getting myself into with Rake and Leo? My experience with Buzz had shattered me, but the potential emotional fallout with these two might be devastating. They weren’t cruel, and I hadn’t become addicted to them as a filthy fun secret. Leo was…Leo was perfect, too good to be true. And Rake was outside of even my own wildest dreams; sweet and sexy, and as persistent in his affection as I’d dreamed an alpha would be.

  It sounded great on paper, but I knew better. Eventually, things between us would hit roadblocks, and what would it cost me to have to walk away from them?

  Your entire fucking heart, idiot.

  My pounding, racing heart. I needed to get out of the bed before I let myself spiral into a full-blown panic attack and had to explain myself to Rake. I didn’t want to ruin the night we were having. Stupid as it was, I had already decided to see things through with these men to the bitter brutal end, even if there would be nothing left of myself when it was over. The destruction was too sweet to resist.

  Gently, watching his face for any sign of waking up, I lifted Rake’s arm up from my chest, settling it into the pillows behind my head. Inch by inch, I slid myself out from under his stretched leg and then off the bed. My clothes were strewn over the floor on the way into the bedroom, but I’d brought sleep clothes with me in my bag in the other room. I tiptoed out to the open space, half expecting one of Rake’s alphas to appear suddenly. But no, they were too good at giving me space.

  I dressed and grabbed the takeout containers. I could take them down to the kitchen, it would give me a good excuse for nighttime wanderings and the space I needed at the moment.

  Caleb’s rooms were still dark, and my heart actually ached for him. Had my presence totally chased him out? Guilt hung like a collar around my throat, dragging weight behind me with every quiet step to the stairs. Caleb seemed… He seemed sweet, which was not something I’d ever associated with an alpha, even before Buzz. I didn’t want to be the cause of any discomfort for him.

  It seemed kind of early for the whole house to be silent, so I wasn’t surprised as I crept down the stairs to hear music coming from the third floor. I paused on the landing, looking out the front window to the dark street, an orange street lamp across the road casting spiderweb patterns through tree branches onto the blacktop. A solitary guitar strummed through a familiar blues melody, and it wasn’t until the notes broke off and corrected themselves that I realized this wasn’t music playing over speakers, but one of the alphas.

  I continued down to the kitchen, almost sorry not to see anyone else up, tucked the ramen into the fridge, and allowed myself a little indulgent exploring. I’d never been anywhere where everything was so nice. Not that it was all brand new—there was an old retro café model espresso maker, and Caleb seemed to have a taste for Art Deco antiques—but everything was high quality. You couldn’t call the house ‘understated wealth’ because the money involved was clear, but it definitely wasn’t gaudy or flaunted either.

  Unsure of what to do with myself, I wandered back to the third-floor landing, hanging at the edge of the hallway and listening to the musician. I had an inkling of who it might be, and curiosity won out, leading my steps past an office and one of Rake’s tucked away nests. The rooms were more private and closed off on this floor, and I stopped in front of one open door to see a narrow room with floor to ceiling bookshelves and the walls cluttered with paintings. There was a book left open on the couch and the blanket I’d snuggled up in draped over the arm.

  I continued to the back of the house, the guitar growing gently louder, and hesitated in front of a sliding door. A light was on inside, soft glow angling out across the wood floor of the hall. The blues were set aside, and now I was fairly sure I was listening to a slightly clumsy but intricate version of an old pop hit, something angsty and familiar that had come out when I was a kid.

  I stepped up to the doorway, pausing in the shadow as I got the first glimpse of Matthieu Segal, hunched over a beat up, sea-foam green electric guitar, sitting on a squashed leather stool. A lock of salt and pepper had fallen over his furrowed brow as he studied his own fingers in their work. The room was a strange collection, a desk cluttered with business papers in one corner—a pair of glasses left open in front of a black computer screen—and the other corner filled with shelves loaded with records and CDs. There were music posters on the wall, as well as a few magazine covers and framed awards.

  The song ran down to an aimless end, and Matthieu looked up, frowning as if he were disappointed or frustrated in his own performance. My lips were quirked in a smile, and I knew the second he saw me in the doorway. His back straightened and the guitar pick in his hand scratched awkwardly against the strings, a howling chord ringing over the small amp sitting near the stool. His eyes were wide and open in surprise, and I was perversely pleased to have snuck up on him.

  “Lola!”

  “Hi, sorry,” I said in greeting, giving him a tiny wave. “I heard you while I was taking some stuff to the kitchen. I almost forgot you were a musician.”

  Matthieu’s shock vanished in a grimace. “I was in a punk band, so I’m not sure the word applies,” he said with a wry shrug.

  My eyes turned to one of the posters on the wall, the words ‘Washed Up’ bold in a splattered hand-drawn font. The picture on the poster was bold in black and white, pixelated and a little hard to see. But the resemblance between the young man screaming into a microphone while holding a guitar, and the older version sitting on his leather stool in his beautiful city home was faint. Honestly, if it weren’t for the same hook in hi
s nose, I probably wouldn’t have ever connected the two. Matthieu was so…polished when he was at the Stanmore.

  Not now though. Now he was in a pair of sweatpants worn out over one knee, and a t-shirt that had been well-worn to the point of its original art being totally obscured, and I could see a hole in one of the armpits.

  “I’m pretty sure if I’d known at nineteen where I’d end up, I would’ve given myself a massive ‘fuck you,’” Matthieu mused, his own eyes turning to the poster.

  I snorted. “How did it happen, anyway?”

  “Um, George and I started Broken Record,” he said with a shrug, referring to the now famous music magazine enterprise. “It took off. George sold his take, I kept mine, we got bigger and then…I suppose everyone assumed I knew what I was doing.”

  I grinned at him, my expression freezing as I realized he’d been watching me closely. Matthieu was observant, that much had always been clear. He’d seen my reserve around him and Cyrus in that very first moment in the hall at the Stanmore. He’d always been careful around me too.

  “Do you miss just being in a band?” I asked him, hoping to distract his focus on me by turning it back to himself.

  Matthieu’s nose wrinkled, and he looked down at the guitar in his hands. “No, I don’t think I do. Touring and partying was fun at the time, but thinking about it now makes me tired,” he said. He looked up at me with a sly grin. “Anyway, no one wants to watch an old man jump around in chains and spikes.”

  “Oh, but the mohawk! Designate could probably bring it back if you wanted to give it a second shot,” I said.

  Matthieu’s laugh was warm and surprised, his face lighting up and deep grooves digging into his cheeks as he smiled. My stomach flipped and a deep tug in my center urged me toward him. I crossed my ankles, pressing my legs shut, and tried to force the mental image of replacing Matthieu’s guitar in his arms with my own body.

  Haven’t you learned your fucking lesson, Lola? Just because Matthieu didn’t act like a predator to me, didn’t mean he was safe. And I knew perfectly well that Rake hated it when people used him to get close to his alphas. I’d meant it when I said I didn’t want that, but my body seemed to have other ideas.