“Yes, Beautiful.” He pressed his face to mine as he thrust into me hard. Outside of sex, he was always the one in charge of calling the shots, but when our naked bodies moved together, he let me make my demands. He got off on pleasing me, like my pleasure was his threshold to a great climax.
His entire body tensed right before he came, his large arms becoming thicker, and the sweat pouring down the back of his neck. With a few more pumps, he released, his heavy come filling my wet cunt. “Take all of it.” He shoved himself balls deep and released.
I cried out in his face, having an orgasm even more powerful than the last. My nails nearly cut his skin as they dragged all the way down to his ass. I was so hot, so sweaty, and so out of breath, but I didn’t care. “Bosco…I love it when you fuck me.” I locked my eyes on to his, seeing the same arousal in his eyes.
He finished with a groan. “I know.” He kissed the corner of my mouth before he smothered me with his embrace. He gave me his mouth and his tongue, taking my mouth aggressively like he hadn’t just had all of me for the past thirty minutes.
When his cock had softened, he slowly pulled out of me, leaving his seed behind. He rolled over to the spot beside me and lay there, his hand behind his head and his chest shiny with sweat. The glow from the streetlight hit his body, outlining the chiseled grooves of his stomach.
I lay as I was, his come inside me. I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling the heaviness at a deeper angle.
He turned his head toward me and watched me. “You really love my come.”
I was still high from coming twice that night, so I didn’t think twice before the words came out of my mouth. “Yes.” I’d never let a man fuck me without a condom because I’d never been in a monogamous relationship. They were all flings that burned out, not that they ever burned brightly in the first place. I wasn’t in a hurry to settle down and pop out some kids, but I was starting to believe it was unlikely I would ever find Mr. Right. The closest I’d gotten was Bosco—and he was completely wrong for me.
“There’s plenty more where that came from.” He rested his hand against his stomach and closed his eyes, his hard jaw softening now that he was relaxed. He must have shaved that morning because his jaw was free of stubble. Completely smooth, it showed the masculine lines of his face, his perfect features that defined what masculinity should look like.
He suddenly stirred from sleep and grabbed his clothes off the floor. He fished out his phone and set it on the nightstand, like he was expecting a call. He pressed a button on the side of his watch, making a black screen appear over the surface. It was a high-tech gadget I’d never seen.
“What’s that?” I whispered.
He faced the ceiling again, closing his eyes. “My team can communicate with me if something comes up.”
“So they’ll be stationed around my apartment until morning?”
“Not exactly. They’ll be dispersed within a three-mile radius, blending in with the surroundings so it’s not so obvious they’re there. They keep a lookout and notify me of any unusual activity.”
“Are these the same men in the lobby of your building.”
“No.”
He had two dozen men stationed there the entire time, along with a separate crew to escort him everywhere? That was a total of fifty men. I couldn’t wrap my mind around that. Conway was a little famous, and he didn’t even have that. “Is there something you’re afraid of?”
“No.” He said it without hesitation. “Men try to approach me all the time, beg me for access to the casino, ask for extensions on their membership dues, bullshit like that. Keeps the beggars away. And if anyone even considers fucking with me, they won’t bother when they understand what they’re up against. They say just having an alarm system on your home is enough to stop a burglary—same thing.”
“So you don’t just let anyone in?” Now I found myself more interested in his life. Perhaps I wasn’t as afraid to ask questions now that I knew the important stuff. I’d thought if I avoided the truth, it would make it easier. But not knowing just made me more uncomfortable.
“No.” He turned his head toward me, his blue eyes serious.
“What are the requirements?”
“A million-dollar annual membership. Criminal background. That’s about it.”
“Those are pretty big requirements. Why do they have to be a criminal?”
“Because we don’t want average men sniffing around. Criminals aren’t rats. We won’t sell each other out. Regular men don’t have balls like we do. You say you want a good man to settle down with and start a family.” He shook his head. “Good men are overrated. They’re pussies because they aren’t brave or strong enough to stand up to anyone and seize greater opportunities. They’re lame and boring. Trust me, that’s not what you want.”