Page 45 of Beautiful Vows

My dick is throbbing.

I’m panting.

My balls are so fucking tight, I’m going to...

“Ah—Oh, yes—Oh. My … Lia...”

My cock pulses as hot liquid bursts into her mouth.

She doesn’t release me. With each thrust of my hips, she sucks around my crown, taking every drop I give her.

And only when I stop jerking does she sit back and gaze at me with a grin that spreads across her face. She reaches her finger to her lip, takes the wetness and licks her finger.

“Do I taste good, baby?” I ask.

“The best … you taste like mine.”

Chapter 15

Cade

I disconnect my cell, and place it on the desk.

“He’s found her,” I say to Rafe, not wanting to mention Lia’s name.

In our world, even walls have ears, and her safety is paramount.

“Thank fuck she’s okay,” he replies, leaning to kiss me. His lips are warm, familiar, tender. "How is she?"

“He’s going to call later.” I point to my ear, just in case we’re being bugged. I checked the office before work, as I do every day—a meticulous sweep for devices, a habit born from years of vigilance. But we still don’t take too many chances, especially now that we’re getting so close to what we want.

With his mask now covering the top half of his face, he confidently heads towards the door, pumped up and ready to deal with tonight’s auction.

His hand hovers over the handle, and he stares at me. "I want her Cade."

I smile. "Me too."

As Rafe opens the door, a warm smile spreads across his face and his eyes light up with joy. “It’s all coming together.” His words carry so much weight. Once, we only wanted Lia because it propelled Dante’s position and safeguarded our future, but now we know she’s part of our destiny.

As he disappears into the club, I turn my attention to the wall of monitors.

Most screens offer a slice of the debauchery—my kingdom of sin.

Angels and Sinners’ has come to life. Near naked women straddle fully dressed men. Some in full view and some hidden in corners, some obscured by the smoke machines that create a hazy veil.

In the high-roller poker room, amid the shuffling of chips and cards, Ricardo Bianchi, Eduardo Gallo, and Dominic de Luca are here.

I connect to Rafe and say, “Your father’s here.”

“Tonight? Where is he?” The Syndicate men never normally come to the club on a weekend.

“Positive. He’s at the high-stakes table with Ricci, Eduardo, and some other men.”

“Any idea who?”

I zoom in on the table and start our facial software program. It looks at noses, eyes and chin, and gives, ninety-nine percent of the time, an accurate answer despite the mask.

“Malek Volkonsky, a Russian oligarch, and a man called Santiago Garcia, who is the head of a Mexican cartel.”

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