Yak 11
“She’s with her sisters, she’s fine. And you know Ezra has Dottie tagged. We’d know if she was in danger.”
“I appreciate you trying to be the voice of reason, Monty…but shut the fuck up. I want eyes on her. She isn’t answering my texts or calls and she knows better. I’m gonna fucking tan her hide when I get my hands on her.”
“I would very much like to see that.”
“Perv.” I can’t help smiling at him, despite the urgency thrumming through my veins to find Sophia.
Rose, Blanche, Dottie, and Sophia get together once a week or so, just the four of them.
Usually at one of their homes, away from the mishpocheh and the ever-watchful eye of the Kosher Nostra.
Their security details are close by, their locations shared on their devices, and like Monty said, Ezra has several tracking devices on his woman.
Still…
I pull to a stop outside Blanche’s house, which is right next to Sophia’s, which is across the street from Rose’s and Dottie’s.
Not that the sisters stay in their homes often.
Dottie and Ezra live together in the compound, and since their half-brothers Uriel and Irving are living with Ezra’s parents there too, the other Goldman girls stay at the compound most of the time.
Sophia has said that the compound feels more like home than anywhere they have ever lived.
Surrounded by family and friends, the sisters soak up the constant affection and irritation they missed out on when they were growing up.
I slam my door behind me and jog up the path to the front door. I knock and wait, Monty catching up to me, his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Why are you so fucking calm?”
“Because I’m not a control freak like you, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby.”
“Right. You aren’t sweet and docile like a baby, not like Sophia. Let me try it again…Because I’m not a control freak like you, crocodile. Hmm. Hippopotamus. No. Honey badger. Badger. We’ll go with badger.”
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Always.” Monty turns my head in his direction with his hand on my jaw and kisses me. “And you can enjoy me later. After we get eyes on our girl and you calm the fuck down.”
“Why aren’t they answering the door?” I knock again, then ring the doorbell. I’m about to knock again when I hear screaming from inside. I don’t think, just rear back and kick the front door open, jumping over the debris and rushing through the house.
“NO! NO! You stupid fucking cunt!” Monty is at my back as I follow the angry voices. “I’m going to fucking kill you! Move, dammit! You fucking pussy!”
Over the threshold of Blanche’s entertainment room, I skid to a stop, Monty running into me and nearly knocking us both to the ground.
Cigar smoke lingers in the air. Rose, Blanche, Dottie and Sophia are standing in front of one of the largest televisions I’ve ever seen, wearing jerseys.
The Pharaoh is sitting on one of the couches, loaded chip halfway to his mouth, snacks and beer littering every available surface.
I run my eyes over Sophia, making sure she’s not in any danger, then my gaze darts to the television.
“Rugby?” Monty asks before I can formulate the thought. “You’re watching rugby? Sophia…is that a Jonah Lomu jersey?”
“Uh…” Sophia looks like a deer in headlights, staring at us with wide eyes, her mouth gaping like a fish. The crunch of Masud’s chip is loud in the awkward silence. “No?”
“No, you are not watching rugby and wearing a Lomu jersey?”
She spins in a circle as if trying to read what’s on the back of her shirt. “I mean, is that what this says?” She is not an actress, not even a little bit. And she lies for shit.
“Explain. Right the fuck now.”
“Yak—”
“No, Blanche. This is between us and Sophia. She’s a grown-ass woman.”
“Who lies.” I reach out and grab his hand to squeeze. The hurt in his voice is unmistakable. “I explained the whole damn sport to you, Sophia. Why would you let me do that?”
“Because you are so excited when you talk about rugby. You come alive. I didn’t want to take that from you.”
“But that’s not all of it, is it? This isn’t a casual interest…” I wave my hand around the room. “You’ve been following rugby for a while. Lomu retired almost 20 years ago.”
“Men…most men…I’ve been told repeatedly that men don’t appreciate it when a woman knows more about sports than they do.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous,” I spit out.
“It’s hot as fuck, Sweetling. Soon, you’re gonna wear my jersey and give a running commentary while I fuck you hard doggy-style so we can both watch the match.” I adjust my cock and look at him. He’s breathing hard, his dick trying like hell to burst through the zipper of his pants.
“That was very specific,” Sophia whispers, her own breathing erratic, cheeks flushing, eyes hazy.
I jump over the couch and land inches away from Sophia. Bending to put my shoulder in her stomach, I throw her over my shoulder and head back the way we came.
“Wait!” Sophia slaps her hand on my ass.
“The match is almost over, I don’t wanna miss—” I bring my hand down hard on the tops of her thighs.
Through her leggings, I press my hand between her thighs, putting pressure against her clit.
I feel it pulse, her moan echoing through the hallway.
“You’re right. You’ve seen one match; you’ve seen them all. Proceed.”
Monty opens the driver’s door, gets inside, and slams it shut.
I sit in the back with Sophia, pulling her leggings down to her thighs.
Her head drops back to the seat, as I trace the seam of her pussy with my knuckles.
She spreads her legs as far as the fabric will allow, whining when I don’t move fast enough.
“You have no one to blame but yourself, little girl. You lied to us. You ignored our calls and texts. And you owe Blanche a new front door.” I tease her the entire drive to the compound.
Tracing her opening, dipping my fingers inside, circling her clit.
She gets angry when I pinch it, or finger fuck her until she’s on the edge of release and then suddenly pull back.
She’s nearly feral by the time we pull through the gates.
“Garage.” Monty meets my eyes in the mirror.
I nod, pulling out my phone with one hand and disabling the cameras in the garage, keeping Sophia primed and ready with my other.
We come to an abrupt stop inside, the door closing behind us.
Monty turns off the engine, throws open the door and steps out.
As he undoes his pants, he opens the door to the backseat.
His dick swinging between his legs, pants around his ankles, he reaches in and grabs Sophia, pulling her out.
He devours her, trying his damndest to shove his tongue down her throat, while she whines because her leggings keep her from wrapping her legs around his waist. She wants his dick. I do too. It’s a beautiful piece of machinery. But he and I have other plans.
He hands her off to me, then shuffles back and jumps up to sit on the hood of the car.
I place her on her feet in front of him and bend her over with my hand between her shoulders.
I quickly undo my own pants, line myself up, and thrust in without warning.
She screams, Monty’s eyes flare as he licks his lips watching me fuck her like an animal.
“Suck his fucking cock, Sophia. Apologize with your mouth. And don’t forget the tongue.
” Holding her hips, I fuck her hard and fast, stroking deep.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back as her cunt grips me, pulsing around every fucking inch.
Hot. Wet. Tight. Monty’s drawn-out moan has me snapping my eyes open.
Sophia slurps around his length, taking him deep down her throat.
My cock jerks seeing her face in his lap, his hand in her hair holding her in place, the pleasure etched in the lines of his face. The two of them together is poetry.
“I don’t think this is the punishment you intended, Yak.” Monty manages to rush out before another long moan. He rests back on his hand and pushes his hips up. I wish he was naked. I want to see the way his cut muscles flex, his abs rippling as her mouth drives him wild.
“Fuck it.” I rear back and slap her right ass cheek, watching it jiggle slightly from the impact. My handprint slow to form in a delicious red flush. I slap her again, and the little minx moans, arching her spine and thrusting back against me. “Our little cum slut likes a bit of pain.”
“She enjoys being used.” He pets the top of her head, staring down into her eyes with a little smile. “Don’t you, Sweetling?”
Around Monty’s considerable girth, she manages to mumble, “Yes!”
“Monty…her pussy…fuck, I’m gonna cum!” I warn him, wanting us to finish together.
“Soph, touch your clit, baby.” I snap my hips faster, my grip punishing on the soft flesh of her waist. “Suck him, good, Soph, swallow him down.” Her hand leaves Monty’s thigh and slides down her body.
I know the moment she touches her clit. High pitched keening fills the garage as her body shakes, her cunt choking my cock, massaging it mercilessly.
“FUCK! FUCK!” Monty chants, pumping his hips.
Needing to feel connected to him, I raise my hand over her head and Monty reaches out to clutch it in his own.
Our eyes meet and neither of us looks away as our releases crash over us seconds apart.
I watch erotic bliss slacken his features while her rhythm stutters and her inner channel locks tight around my cock and demands my cum.
She swallows every drop of Monty’s climax, licking him clean.
Lifting her chin, he guides her face to his and kisses her, groaning at his own taste on her tongue.
Still inside her, my cock jerking with aftershocks, I shift us closer to the vehicle until we are standing between Monty’s legs and turn Sophia’s chin to catch the lingering flavor on her tongue, then give Monty a lazy, sloppy kiss that has us both laughing.
She rests her head against his chest with a happy sigh and that sound settles in my soul and takes up permanent residence.
Sophia starts chuckling, her shoulders shaking from the force. “Since Monty’s sitting down, is it still an Eiffel Tower?”
“You’ve got a dirty mind,” Monty mutters, taking her mouth once more.
I hum, my mind going over everything now that the sex fog is lifting. “Why was Masud with you and your sisters?”
She chuckles softly. “He and Blanche bonded over rugby, so we asked Tovah to set up a playdate months ago. He joins us when he’s available.”
I laugh picturing Tovah fixing his jersey, ruffling his hair and patting his ass as she sends him on his way to play with his friends. “And how long have you been a closet rugby fan, baby?”
“Jack Foley.”
“Who?” I fail to keep the bite out of my voice. I don’t like another man’s name coming out of her mouth, let alone the wistful tone she says it in. It’s bad enough she’s wearing Lomu’s name across her back. And he’s the greatest rugby player…ever.
“Circle of Friends. 1995. Chris O’Donnell. Rose, Dottie, and I were instantly smitten with the young man. Blanche took more interest in the small bits where he played rugby. Her passion for the sport meshed with our passion for the sexy men and another bond was formed between us.”
“So, when you four get together like this—”
“Sweaty, muscular, tattooed, grunting men who tear each other’s shorts off in the name of victory. Every. Time.”
“I don’t like it.” Sophia turns around, frowning when my softened cock falls free, my seed dripping down her thighs.
“I’m afraid in this particular instance, I don’t care.”
“Hmm.” I share a look with Monty and grin.
Spinning her back around, I lift under arms as he reaches down for her legs.
She cries out, but moans when he fastens his mouth to her pussy and licks our combined releases.
I suck on her neck and tease her nipples through the jersey while holding her up.
Her orgasm isn’t as intense as the one before, but she’s just as blissed out by the time Monty lowers her legs to his waist, and I wrap her arms around his neck.
She snuggles into him and I fix my pants, then grab hers from the car.
We redress her and Monty carries her through the compound to our suite.
He and I don’t even say a word; he sits on the couch with her while I grab the remote and start searching for Circle of Friends.