Page 18 of Wicked Takeover
Several bikers tramped in. Dante’s former clients. They lifted their chins in greeting.
He paddled her repeatedly.
A few men sank into chairs. Others leaned against Van Gogh’s murals.
Dante pulled her to a standing position and tore off the rest of her clothes, leaving her nude, defenseless, and panting.
The bikers whistled.
Dante lifted her to the table.
She gasped.
He positioned her spread-eagle, her breasts and pussy shamelessly exposed.
The seated bikers leaned up for a better view. Those who’d been against the walls strode closer. One handed Dante a melting Dove Bar. He dripped its chocolate and vanilla onto Lauren’s nipples, navel, and the delicate curls between her legs. She shivered at the cool liquid and lost her breath at Dante’s hot, wet mouth. He licked her nipples, making them ache, and dipped his tongue into her navel to lap it clean.
Once it was, he scooted down to her slit. His hot breath skimmed her folds drenched from indecent lust and her need to have his cock tunneled deep within her.
Lauren lifted her ass and delivered herself to him.
A biker clomped across the room and pumped his fist. “Do her now.”
Another joined him. “Good and hard.”
The others whooped.
Lauren trembled at Dante’s mouth on her clit, his tongue rasping it. He kept her thighs apart, her sex open to him. Ruthlessly, he teased her nub.
Too many feelings tore through her. Need. Hunger. Passion. Delight.
She lost control and shattered, her release hitting her with cyclone force.
The men stamped their feet and whistled.
Dante lifted her legs, spread her widely, and rested her feet and ass on the table edge.
He gestured three men over. “Hold her. Make sure she can’t move.”
One clasped her right ankle in his meaty hand. His chest sported a tat that showed her naked and bound. The guy on the other side gripped her left ankle. His tat displayed Dante mounting her. The biker behind Lauren held her wrists. She didn’t bother to look at him.
Dante commanded her full attention. He’d shoved his jeans and underwear to his thighs. His cock sprang out, rigid, thick, and proud. Its alluring scent filled the room. Playfully, he ran his crown over her plump folds, bathing it in her moisture.
Fevered and wanting, she had to have him now. “Fuck me.”
He did. Oh damn, he did.
But only in her stupid fantasy where their carnal play would always remain.
Lauren rubbed her temples. Too bad Dante couldn’t massage her bruised emotions and heart.
Calling herself a fool, she forced herself to get back to work. For the last several hours, she’d rewritten her resume more times than she cared to count to make it perfect for today’s applications. Her email inbox was filled with “don’t call us, we’ll never call you” responses for other jobs she hadn’t snagged. Many weren’t even in her field. She was now courting entry-level gigs offering minimum pay and still couldn’t get anything.
She had to. No way could she take part of Dante’s salary, no matter what he’d said.
He was either the kindest man she had ever known or the craziest. Maybe he came from wealth. He surely didn’t covet it. Not only was he intelligent and educated, but highly so. When he spoke to vendors and city officials, his words and phrasing were far different from how he conversed with the guys who came here. Most were arrested adolescents who were proudly into broads, booze, and tattoos. She couldn’t imagine what had led Dante to Wicked Brand. Not that he seemed to mind working here.
His deep voice drifted down the hall. Women’s throaty laughter followed.
