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Beatrice couldn’t catch her breath as she stared up at him.
“Bea?” he asked, suddenly feeling guilty. She’d asked him to wait.
She groaned, her hands grabbing his head and dragging his mouth down to hers. Her tongue thrust inside his mouth, so fucking giving. He rolled on top of her, very glad for the sheets and comforter between them. His body was telling him to cover her and enter her so it could thrust.
Her body had stiffened, though. As if it was waiting for that.
He poured all he had into the kiss, rubbing and seeking and clinging.
Her hands loosened, where they were tangled in his hair, letting him raise his head again to stare down at her.
She frowned up at him, and her brow had furrowed. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”
His hand that was holding the vibrator was trapped between them. He shifted to the side, rubbing it against her even though it was off. “Need another orgasm?”
She stroked the back of his neck. He didn’t think she realized she did it. Her eyes were too intent on his own. “No, I—” She swallowed, shaking her head. “No.” Her body relaxed, still partially under his.
He removed the vibrator, letting it fall to the messy sheets. They were already sticky with dripped lube and his earlier explosion.
Her eyes had slipped closed.
“Makes you sleepy, doesn’t it?” He kissed her nose again. “You okay with cum-stained sheets? Or can you stay awake long enough for me to change them?”
Her nose wrinkled, and her hands pulled away. She looked toward the door.
“Or you can slip back to your room. Whatever you want,” he murmured, even though he wanted to beg her to stay. He lifted himself fully off of her, and she scrambled off the bed on the side closest to the door.
“Want to take the vibrator for later?” he offered.
She shook her head, already walking toward the door. With it open, she hesitated.
“Good night, Montrell.”
“Good night, Bea.”
When she closed the door behind her, he collapsed to the bed, yanking at the sheets until the cool air hit his straining cock. His hand was still slick with lube as he wrapped it around his erection. The sheets were already messy. More cum wouldn’t hurt them at all, and it was all too easy to imagine how her mouth had felt when she’d used it on him.
Chapter 16
Montrell was in a good mood the next day. Too good of one. He was annoyingly chipper all through the meeting with the capos and their top men.
It made Beatrice want to drag his slacks down and close her mouth around him. She felt a throb when she imagined doing just that with all the men still there, and she frowned at the familiar sensation. She didn’t think she would feel throbs without direct stimulation.
Her thoughts had made her miss the last decision being discussed. Honestly, she’d paid very little attention to the business talk at all. She folded her arms over her chest, the sudden brush against her nipples reminding her of Montrell’s interest in them the night before. That cooled her off.
The lush slopes of her breasts looked creamy and flawless.
The rest of them held all the healed scars of where her husband had liked to slice at them each time he accused her of flirting.
Like she’d ever wanted to flirt with any of the Albanians, even if the egotistical pricks had always claimed she had. Whenever her mind wandered, her husband had thrown accusations at her about who had caught her attention.
Her prior husband, she reminded herself, focusing on Montrell and realizing all over again that she hadn’t been paying attention.
“It’ll be fine, Vespa,” Montrell was saying, waving off his best friend.
Vespa flopped back against the wall. Her lips thinned as she pressed them together, watching the men filter out of the room.
For Vespa to disagree before they were alone, she must have felt strongly about her opinion. Beatrice had noticed she normally waited until after a meeting if she needed to give Montrell a hard time.
