Page 22 of Enforce This

It wasn’t that the notion of being with Eric was a terrible one, it was the idea of ownership and what his club considered relationships to be in general.

“Ohhh…” Oak’s eyes bugged as he made the sound. Then he dismissed me and looked back at Eric, his fingers teasing along my panties and flesh as he did so. “You sure about that?”

The fact that he couldn’t take my word, over whether or not I was an owned woman pissed me off. Furthermore, I felt compelled to prove to him that I wasn’t. So, I yanked his hand away from my pussy and sucked his fingers between my lips before he could react.

“Holy fuck, Easy… I’m sorry, brother,” were his last words, before he slapped my other thigh hard enough to leave a few finger marks on my tender flesh. He gripped my leg in a way that was almost painful, but entirely erotic and buried his face between my thighs.

“Oh my God,” I blurted out, shooting a hand to the back of his head.

He didn’t even take my panties off, he was just mouthing my lips and licking at the damp cloth like he was starving, and I was the only thing that would do. Nobody had ever done that to me before. My legs spasmed, as my mind alternated between shameful demands that I clamp my legs shut and pull this stranger's face away from my snatch, and the sinful urge to give in and grind against his face.

Who knew how long I remained there, with my mouth open and those breathy, little sounds coming from me. I’d spaced out and now that I was becoming aware of my surroundings again, I realized Eric was still standing beside the couch. His hand had fallen to his towel and he was massaging a very prominent length beneath all that terrycloth.

Oak growled and grabbed my panties, giving them a quick jerk that gave way to an unmistakable ripping sound. I sucked in a breath and almost giggled, but the first stroke of his hot tongue left me strangling on my laughter and bucking beneath him. He pinned me with those massive hands, his fingers digging into my hips and ass.

Eric realized I was staring at him, or rather, what I was staring at. His hand shot away from his dick, and he turned toward the bathroom in a hurry.

“Don’t go…” I whimpered, sinking my fingers into Oak’s short hair while he sucked and slurped with more skill than any of those college boys back in Rochester possessed.

“Not going anywhere, baby,” Oak mumbled, oblivious to Eric’s dilemma.

Eric froze. His back was to me, and I could see how tense his jaw was when he tilted his head just a bit.

Oak shoved two of those meaty fingers inside my narrow pussy and I arched and reached with my empty hand toward Eric, causing him to look back at me.

“Eric, please…” I whimpered while Oak battered my clit with his tongue and chased me over the edge of a violent and desperately-needed orgasm.

“Eric,” His name cracked on my lips as I rode out my pleasure.

My eyes clamped shut. Everything shattered and the world, and everything in it, no longer mattered.

Fuck the mafia. Fuck the funerals. Fuck. It. All.

I just wanted this feeling to go on so I could stay in this place where none of that mattered.

I grunted and cried out, twisting, and thrashing shamelessly against Oak’s face, until I felt fingers against the palm I’d been reaching out with.

Chapter Twelve

Eric

I had every intention of taking the high road. Yeah, she was glorious, all sprawled out, and maybe I was a bastard for looking my fill for those few brief minutes… But I had… Every. Fucking… Intention... Of walking away.

I had to…

She was the president’s fucking daughter.

But the sound of my name on that girl’s lips when she was shattering inside and vulnerable to the world…

I don’t think Satan or any of his fallen angels would have resisted that noise. And Oak, the fucking bastard that he was… Once he’d plucked it from her the first time, he started playing her like a goddamn instrument. She cried out for me as she started to climb the hill of her first orgasm, and he chased her over it and forced her to suffer them one after another until tears were spilling down her face and my name was nothing more than the incoherent sound of sin.

I slid my fingers over her palm and trailed them along her wrist and up her arm. Her skin was so soft. I knew I shouldn’t be touching her, but perhaps part of that was what made her all the more desirable.

The more she writhed, the farther her shirt traveled up her torso. Her tummy was soft, her hips full and the thighs that were gripping either side of Oak’s head were thick.

“Fuck,” I exclaimed, before I reached with the other hand and slid my fingers along her side.

I stopped thinking and gathered the shirt in my hands, drawing it over her head. She was dazed and already breathing hard with another orgasm, so she didn’t fight it too much. I stared down at her naked, sprawled form. She had serious curves, and nice, full tits. There wasn’t a drop of ink or a tan line on her. I cupped a breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. They were real, and she responded instantly to my touch, her dark nipple puckering and all but begging for my mouth.

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