My mind flickers to Langston, watching me come apart. I shouldn’t even let him see this part of me. He shouldn’t get to see me orgasm.
But it’s not about him. This is about me. About taking control of my own body. I want to show him this incredible experience he’ll never get.
Finally, my body is coaxed into another orgasm.
As soon as I come down enough to move, I slide down Walon’s body, grab his cock, and push him inside my slick walls.
He curses as he fills me tightly with his long, thick rod.
My nails dig into his chest as the pleasure fills me, and I lock my eyes with Waylon.
I won’t think about Langston again, not until I’m finished with Waylon, which won’t be until he has to leave for his flight in the morning.
Waylon reads my mind, knowing exactly how intense sex can get with me, how long it can last. He’s on board and has the stamina to keep up with me. I’m going to need release after release to get me through an entire week without sex.
Langston may get to watch, but he doesn’t get me. He doesn’t get my attention, my thoughts, and definitely not my body—my orgasms. Those are all for Waylon and me.
I start off slow, getting my rhythm, and then Waylon’s hips start thrusting with me. My body glides over his, my clit hitting the point of his hard, sculpted V, and soon I’m convulsing around him as he pours his cum into the condom within me.
“Waylon!” I finally scream, making it clear that he’s the only man for me.
I climb off of him and remove the condom as I walk to the bathroom, still wearing my power, ‘fuck me’ heels.
I am a goddess; three orgasms is nowhere near enough to satisfy me.
I grab the box of condoms in the bathroom and bring them to the bed before I untie Waylon. I want to be fucked in every position. Now that I’ve established my authority, my need, my control, Waylon will respect my power.
“Fuck me from behind. I want to be fucked in every position, in every way, until the sun comes up. Think you can handle that, baby?”
He smirks. “For you, I’d do anything.”
He rolls a condom on, then grabs my hips, and carefully slides between my legs as he fills me and reaches around to stroke my clit.
My eyes roll back at the feeling. This is the life. This is my life. This is what I chose. And I won’t ever let a man take anything from me ever again.
8
Langston
Fuck, Liesel.
She knew I was watching.
That was complete torture for me.
Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK!
My blood pressure soared to a thousand over a million watching her get fucked by that cocksucker.
The message was clear, though—she’s his, not mine.
I laugh at that.
She thinks she won.
Sure, she pissed me off to no end. No amount of jacking off has brought me down from my pent up frustration.
She has no idea what I want from her, but I’m going to enjoy showing her.
Soon, my huntress, I’ll be coming to collect my debt. And your little show just made collecting my debt that much sweeter.
9
Liesel
Not many men have the stamina to go all night.
Waylon does.
Sure, his cock needed a few minutes to rest between each round, which was when he put his lips and tongue to good use. He knows how to pleasure me all night.
Just staying awake all night is a feat. Waylon never let my brain go anywhere except the intense pleasure I was feeling.
Then he was sweet enough to pour me a heaping cup of coffee and set it on the nightstand in one of those self-heating cups so it would be warm and ready for me when I woke up—which was about an hour after I fell asleep.
I don’t need much sleep after a night like that. Nights like last night are what I live for.
I stretch, feeling how sore my muscles are.
I smile at the comforting ache. I don’t have a need to workout. Sex with Waylon like this a couple of times a week gives me more stamina than running or biking or pilates ever could.
I take my time finishing my coffee before heading to the shower.
I walk naked into the en-suite bathroom that is larger than most people’s bedrooms, especially in New York City.
I flip the shower on and immediately step in, the cold water soothing my aching muscles.
Most people prefer warm showers. Not me; cold showers wake me up and keep my skin youthful far more than warm showers. I grew up taking cold showers; we rarely had enough heat for warm ones, and it’s a habit that’s stuck.
It’s one of the reasons Waylon and I hardly ever shower together.
My mind starts to wander as I close my eyes and wash my hair.
I think about the dozens of orgasms I received last night. I think about how high I feel, the happy hormones pulsing through my veins. I think about Waylon, about how he looked, sounded, and felt as he drove inside me.
But I don’t let my mind go free. I don’t let it wander to who I really want to be thinking about.
I get a sudden chill down my spine, but I don’t turn the water warmer. Eventually, the feeling fades.
I know a lot of time has passed when I finally step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my body onto the heated bathroom floors. It always shocks me every time when I step out. Somehow I always forget about that feature when I look at the marble floor.
And then I look up, and my heart skips.
The mirror has fogged over, and there are three words written in the fog.
Five More Days.
I quickly glance around the bathroom, but there is nowhere for someone to hide.
Did Waylon come back?
Did he leave a message on the mirror before he left?
No, that can’t be. Waylon is only going to be gone for three days.
I dart out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I still don’t find anyone.
In fact, I run through the entire condo and find no one.
I could call our security team, but I don’t.
I don’t need to.
I know who left the message.
The only man who could have snuck in and out without security spotting him.
A man I thought I had made perfectly clear to last night that I was not his. That I don’t owe him anything.
Langston Pearce.
I know how our security team didn’t catch Langston, but I don’t know how I didn’t notice myself.
Even with my eyes closed, I always know when Langston is nearby.
The chills—that was Langston.
I did know. I just didn’t let myself acknowledge it.
I walk back to the bedroom just as I hear my cell phone buzzing on the nightstand.
I jump at the sudden sound, and slowly walk over, assuming it’s Langston who’s calling and he can wait.
But when I pick the phone up, it’s Kai on the caller ID.
I sigh and almost decide not to answer the call, but she’ll keep calling the rest of the day, especially if Langston put her up to it.
“Kai, now really isn’t a good time. I have to meet with a client in an hour, and I’m already running late,” I answer, not giving her a chance to speak first. Kai is the only one who continues to keep in touch even when I insist I no longer want to be part of that life, that family.
There was once a time when I loved being the only woman among three dangerous men—Enzo, Zeke, and Langston. I was their entire focus. I thought I would end up with Enzo, the leader, but I realized too late that that was never meant to be. Enzo ended up with Kai.