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5
Connor
I was dick deep in Lesly’s Asian bartender, and yet, my mind was filled with cocoa skin and unreadable brown eyes. The sound of sex was fading. As I imagined her screaming, I filled her with my cum, ignoring her pleas for me to pull out.
“Fuck!”
I couldn’t get the pig out of my fucking mind. She was driving me crazy, crazier than usual. With a grunt, I came and pulled from the pretty Min. She closed her legs with a moan and lifted up giving me a dazed look. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I tossed a few wads of cash on the bar, and pulling my pants up and zipping them, I left the private bar room and headed down stairs to the pool area.
Even now, I wasn’t satisfied. It felt like I’d done nothing but fuck for the last three days. Even now, I grew hard once more. Holding back another curse, I entered the pool room. It was mostly empty as it was around lunch time; most of my men were already out on hits or alternate assignments.
“Was she good?” Lesly asked with a cocky smile. He didn’t even flinch when I grabbed one of the pool balls and threw it at him. It whistled past him and slammed into the mirror behind him.
He quirked a brow. Glancing over his shoulder, he released a whistle. “Well, now here I thought Min was a great bang.”
His sarcasm pissed me off, but he had a point. I’d usually be singing a little diddie under my breath after fucking such a tight snatch. Instead, I could only feel frustration burning in my gut. I couldn’t get Pig out of my mind, I was unfocused and out of control, and I hated it.
I fucking hate it.
“The way I see it, you’re either going to have to fuck it out, or kill it.” Lesly’s advice cut through the haze and had me looking at him like he was a fucking genius.
“What?” He gave me a weird look.
“You’re a fucking genius!”
There wasn’t any fucking reason I couldn’t bang the pig again, and once I got bored, just toss her aside. I’d dated seriously before, not that anything I would have with Pig would be serious. She’d be my cum bucket, and she’d thank her fucking God that she got to get a taste of my dick.
“I don’t want to know,” Lesly said, shaking his head. “Every time you say that, I have to call a cleaning crew here.”
Ignoring his bitching, I reached for my phone that started ringing.
“Hello?”
“Hey, son! It’s Dad, I was wondering if you’d like to come out to the golf field with me?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall, I had about four hours before the next board meeting. “Yeah, I’ll head there now.”
“Great and bring some of that good swill from Lesly’s.”
“Sure.”
Hanging up, I told Lesly to hand over one of the good bottles. He nodded. Reaching around the broken shards, he grabbed one of the bottles, and pulling it out, he handed it to me. “I’ll be charging you for a new mirror.”
I only waved over my back as I grabbed my jacket and headed out. I paid for the place anyway, though he owned it. The money that flowed through it belonged mostly to me.
I should have known Hunter Blitz didn’t call me out to play a game.
No, he had three of his old compatriots on their knees, with their hands tied behind their backs.
“Hey, son!” he called me over. He leaned on his gold club like it was a cane. His wild dog guards stood behind him silently.
I handed over the bottle of one of them. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I quirked a brow at the men on their knees with black hoods on their heads.
He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about them, I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the night of the party.” He lifted the club by the handle, looking it over. “I know I should have asked you before I asked for Celeste’s hand, but I just couldn’t wait.” He sent me a wolfish grin. “I’m too old to be hesitating.”
Hunter, my father, hadn’t lost any edge. He’d only retired to pursue his other interests; it didn’t mean he never butted into the game to give guidance. I usually allowed it, because I knew that while I was menacing, my father was far worse.
Example A: the continued practice swinging of his club near one of the men who were trembling and had a wet spot growing on his pants.
