Page 16 of His Pretty Little Duet

I shudder, my cock exploding into the warm hole of her mouth. She works every drop out until my thighs contract and I groan, sucked to the point of near discomfort. I pull her away from my cock and drop my head back, breathing in and out roughly.

She’s quiet, waiting until I’m ready to praise her. I lift my head to find her face, her red, puffy lips, and big hopeful eyes. Caressing her cheek with my knuckles, I soften my expression. “That was perfect.”

She beams.

I grab her jaw, inspecting it, and she squirms with pleasure. I imagine her cunt dripping at the feel of my tenderness. Staring at her lips, I say, “Is your jaw sore?”

She shakes her head slowly, seemingly delighted she can manage my needs. “No. How doyoufeel?”

“Better. Are you on call today?”

She nods, her words strained as she struggles to talk with her face still in my grip. “Yes. But it’s been quiet of late. Thanks to the efforts of our Lord Mayor.”

A hint of a grin hits my mouth. “You enjoy calling me that, don’t you?”

“The three of us have worked hard for it,” she says, a pink blush hitting her cheeks. It is such an interesting colour on her, every inch of her skin a slight rosy hue, the softest of the colours—perhaps second to white. To be the fool who views those traits as humble and compliant, who attempts to lead her. She would end their career within seconds. She's a fox, her red hair and beauty drawing in her prey only to maul them the instant they go in for a pet.

“Yes. You have worked very hard.” I release her jaw, rolling my gaze over the strip of flesh between her parted robe. “You may stay here next weekend,” I offer. “Aurora and I will both show you our appreciation. Thirty representatives from Indonesia are joining us this week, and they will surely misbehave."

A salacious grin hits her lips. "And we know how much you like seeing people behave inappropriately."

I narrow my eyes in warning. "You know how hard it makes me, so have your pretty holes ready. I won't be gentle with you." Smoothing her hair down her crown, I say, "Aurora can kiss you all better after I'm done."

My words seem to cause a shiver to rush up her spine, excitement in each little shudder. She climbs to her feet, revealing the criss-cross pattern on her knees. Leaving me to my business, she sashays as she goes. I twist back to the monitor briefly before slamming the laptop shut.

A fucking addict.

Well, not under my roof.

Fawn

Wakingup to the lavishly soft sheets surrounding me is like arising from a place on a cloud. Still, with my eyes shut, I focus on my toes, curling them, feeling them caress the blankets. Then I concentrate on my fingers, gliding across the mattress.Fuck me, this is how the other half lives.

Touching my lower stomach, I chuckle and shake my head. This kid could grow up in this world, and for the first time since the strip turned pink, I'm excited for the life inside me. Yeah, it won't know me, but it will be in sheets as soft as clouds, eating cake that tastes like the gods made it.

"Good morning," I say to no one in particular before seeing Jasmine is already up and pulling her clothes on.

Immediately, a knock at the door causes me to sit up and grip the sheets high under my neck, concealing my underwear.

"Morning," she chirps. "Don't worry, that's just Bolton. He's waiting for us."

I sit up straighter, saying, "For us to do what?"

"To head to room twenty-four."

If I didn't already grasp the size of this house, the mention of a room referred to by a numeral—like in a hotel—really cemented that reality.

I get dressed quickly, cringing as I slide on day-old clothes before following Jasmine and Henchman Jeeves through the warren of halls and parlours. We pass too many henchmen to count; they seemingly become part of the furniture, like tall sturdy hat racks with bullet-proof vests and handguns instead of... well,hats.

Do politicians have this many henchmen?

No, this all screams organised crime to me.

The house seems to have a U-shaped footprint, with one side—the side my room is in—used minimally, whereas the other side is busy with staff. I scan the open-plan living area, my brows drawing in, seeing no sign of actualliving.This mansion could be a movie set, not a cushion out of place. No sign anyone has ever sat on the cream-coloured leather sofas.

As I turn a corner, the French doors and entrance to the pool come into view. Through the glass windows, I can see two guys in their twenties working in the gardens. They both look up as I pass, and I offer them a small smile before trailing Henchman Jeeves and Jasmine into a room at the rear.

My feet grip the tiles as we enter, bringing me to a complete stop. The sight of one of those high hospital-style beds, two women I don't know, an older man in his late fifties perhaps, and ...Clay Butcherin all his intimidating glory, throw those damn butterflies straight back into my stomach, fighting for room around the growing human. I step backwards and hit a body—Henchman Jeeves.

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