Page 1 of The Rival's Obsession
There are worse ways to end a day.
My cock down his throat.
Her pussy on my tongue.
And me, flat on my back with nothing to do but enjoy the view.
Vegas is still burning behind my eyes—exhausting convention, press scandal, and one very public punch that’s already making headlines.
But right now?
Right now, she’s using me to come, and he’s swallowing me down like he doesn’t care if he breathes again.
It’s quiet here.
Wet. Warm.
Obedient.
Exactly how I like it.
And until morning, I don’t give a single fuck about the empire I might lose?—
as long as I get to come with one hand fisted in her hair and the other forcing him deeper.
My phone rings.
A very specific ring.
The one I set for my personal assistant.
Fuck.
Fourth time since the jet probably took off. I say probably because I wasn’t on it.
I was supposed to be. Five hours of flying beside Grant Harrow—my business partner and all-around pain-in-the-ass—while he iced his busted lip and seethed in silence?
Yeah, no thanks.
Instead, I called the Black Ledger’s Vegas office and requested something far more therapeutic.
Sam. Kris. A custom order in silk and sin.
And right now, Sam’s pushing my cock to the back of his throat like he wants to live there.
I let the call go to voicemail.
His mouth sucks harder. His throat clenches around me, that warm, tight slide making my eyes roll back.
Goddamn.
My grip tightens on Kris’s thighs, dragging her closer until she’s trembling above me. My tongue circles her clit—slow, then fast, then brutal. Relentless.
She gasps—high and breathy—and grinds down like she can’t get close enough.
Marble walls bounce every sound back at us. Her mewls. My low groan. The wet, slick sounds of her cunt on my tongue and Sam’s mouth sucking my cock like it’s a fucking reward.
I shift just enough to suck as I tongue her—tight, rhythmic, coaxing. She falls apart with a strangled cry, fingers threading through my hair and pulling as she rides it out, hips stuttering in that desperate, helpless way I love.
