made lewd sounds in the room. He rammed her over and over until she exploded. Her pussy quivered in small hiccups. She came hard.
Alex breathed out a strangled cry. He climaxed. His cock spurted and juddered inside her, spasm after spasm of his hot cum.
When she floated back to reality, she felt her pussy throbbing in cadence with her beating heart. But it was a good kind of throb.
Bea collapsed on his chest. Alex breathed hard on her cheek.
“I love having you like this,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Promise me you won’t defy my orders if I tell you to stay put?”
Bea kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll be a good girl from now on.”
Alex smiled. “Let’s get to bed. I’ve arranged somebody for you to see in the morning.”
“Who?”
“A wedding planner.”
Bea blinked. “A wedding planner?” she echoed. “Does this mean…”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, Alex…”
He kissed her hard. “What do you think of a honeymoon in Bali?”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Night of the Lions
Lizzie Lynn Lee
Excerpt
Chapter One
She didn’t belong to this most exclusive gentlemen’s club in Manhattan, but the attendant who manned the lobby had let her in because he was mesmerised by her boobs.
She had a great pair.
They were real, thank you very much. Clothed in the black, lacy, padded Victoria’s Secret bra and a white cocktail dress with a dangerously low décolletage, her best assets had charmed many men and let her nose around places that were usually out of bounds.
Catherine Kovac was a private investigator. Not a good one at that, since she barely had a hold on this trade. She had inherited the business from her late brother Jon. She used to be his secretary before Jon died in a car accident a few months ago, and already the agency was sinking like the Titanic. Detective work wasn’t like answering calls or running the payroll, and she’d found herself lousy at locating missing cats or tailing a cheating spouse.
Her current gig, which she hoped would save the business, was to dig up as much dirty laundry as possible on a businessman named Gabriel Larousse. Her client, a forty-something reclusive named Judith Rossi, insisted that Gabe, as he was known, had been responsible for the death of her brother, Cameron Rossi, fourteen years earlier in Africa. Gabe was currently thirty-five years old. The incident must have happened when Gabe was twenty-one, three years before he’d started his real estate business.
Gabe was a self-made billionaire. He’d started from nothing, working his ass off to flip the first property he’d managed into a profitable venture, and had built his empire from there. He had also been voted this year’s most eligible bachelor, on account that he’d reached the pinnacle of his success at quite a young age. It didn’t hurt that Gabe was easy on the eyes.
Okay, Gabe was hot.
Like, smoking hot.
He and his brothers, Alexandre and Renaud, were the talk of the town. There must have been some good genes in the Larousse family because they were all devastatingly handsome. Cat wasn’t a gal who used that type of hyperbolic shit in her vocabulary, but the brothers were really gorgeous. They all stood over six feet tall, with signature coppery-blond hair, broad shoulders, tapered waists, and long legs. They could have passed as GQ models. And, armed with deep pockets, they were chick magnets. Too bad they were all socially tight-assed—it would take gallons of prune juice to clear up their plumbing. None of the brothers liked reporters, the media, or people like Cat. If they got a whiff that a nosy PI had invaded their personal playground, she would see her ass thrown to the kerb in a blink of an eye.
She tried to be inconspicuous as the club attendant seated her at a table near the bar. His gaze was still hovering over her chest. She sighed inwardly. It was as if he’d never seen natural D cups
Alex breathed out a strangled cry. He climaxed. His cock spurted and juddered inside her, spasm after spasm of his hot cum.
When she floated back to reality, she felt her pussy throbbing in cadence with her beating heart. But it was a good kind of throb.
Bea collapsed on his chest. Alex breathed hard on her cheek.
“I love having you like this,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Promise me you won’t defy my orders if I tell you to stay put?”
Bea kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll be a good girl from now on.”
Alex smiled. “Let’s get to bed. I’ve arranged somebody for you to see in the morning.”
“Who?”
“A wedding planner.”
Bea blinked. “A wedding planner?” she echoed. “Does this mean…”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, Alex…”
He kissed her hard. “What do you think of a honeymoon in Bali?”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Night of the Lions
Lizzie Lynn Lee
Excerpt
Chapter One
She didn’t belong to this most exclusive gentlemen’s club in Manhattan, but the attendant who manned the lobby had let her in because he was mesmerised by her boobs.
She had a great pair.
They were real, thank you very much. Clothed in the black, lacy, padded Victoria’s Secret bra and a white cocktail dress with a dangerously low décolletage, her best assets had charmed many men and let her nose around places that were usually out of bounds.
Catherine Kovac was a private investigator. Not a good one at that, since she barely had a hold on this trade. She had inherited the business from her late brother Jon. She used to be his secretary before Jon died in a car accident a few months ago, and already the agency was sinking like the Titanic. Detective work wasn’t like answering calls or running the payroll, and she’d found herself lousy at locating missing cats or tailing a cheating spouse.
Her current gig, which she hoped would save the business, was to dig up as much dirty laundry as possible on a businessman named Gabriel Larousse. Her client, a forty-something reclusive named Judith Rossi, insisted that Gabe, as he was known, had been responsible for the death of her brother, Cameron Rossi, fourteen years earlier in Africa. Gabe was currently thirty-five years old. The incident must have happened when Gabe was twenty-one, three years before he’d started his real estate business.
Gabe was a self-made billionaire. He’d started from nothing, working his ass off to flip the first property he’d managed into a profitable venture, and had built his empire from there. He had also been voted this year’s most eligible bachelor, on account that he’d reached the pinnacle of his success at quite a young age. It didn’t hurt that Gabe was easy on the eyes.
Okay, Gabe was hot.
Like, smoking hot.
He and his brothers, Alexandre and Renaud, were the talk of the town. There must have been some good genes in the Larousse family because they were all devastatingly handsome. Cat wasn’t a gal who used that type of hyperbolic shit in her vocabulary, but the brothers were really gorgeous. They all stood over six feet tall, with signature coppery-blond hair, broad shoulders, tapered waists, and long legs. They could have passed as GQ models. And, armed with deep pockets, they were chick magnets. Too bad they were all socially tight-assed—it would take gallons of prune juice to clear up their plumbing. None of the brothers liked reporters, the media, or people like Cat. If they got a whiff that a nosy PI had invaded their personal playground, she would see her ass thrown to the kerb in a blink of an eye.
She tried to be inconspicuous as the club attendant seated her at a table near the bar. His gaze was still hovering over her chest. She sighed inwardly. It was as if he’d never seen natural D cups
Similar Books
