Chapter 13 - Frankie
FRANKIE
I was already wet, absolutely drenched for them by the time we reached the bedroom. I was almost permanently wet for them these days.
It was verging on uncomfortable, existing on this knife’s edge of overwhelming arousal all the time, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Not when we reached Jonathan’s lavish bedroom, the fourposter king-sized bed I suspected he didn’t often use for rest, and my men started to undress me with their irresistible hands.
There was a crazed, frantic energy about it this time. No slow teasing, no taking our sweet time. We all knew after today that time was a rare commodity.
I felt their need to protect me, to annihilate any threats that scared me into this mewling mess of a state, in every rough touch of the guys’ hands.
Devin gripped my still-bruised ass as he pulled me in for a fierce, claiming kiss.
Alex was carefully rough as he yanked off my panties, tearing them despite or perhaps because of his love for fine, delicate fabrics. Jonathan covered my body with his on the mattress first, and from the way he pressed our bodies together, it was like he was trying to make sure I was still real.
“I need to taste you,” Jonathan growled in my ear. Before I could finish nodding, he was already moving down my body, leaving room for the other two guys to slide in on either side of me.
Alex surprised me with a firm, ardent kiss. He wasn’t as big on that side of things as Devin and Jonathan were, usually.
Like he resisted the connection it implied to meet my mouth with his, to breathe each other’s air.
He still had his dominant streak, and his hand slid up my now-bare chest, between my aching breasts, to find a firm grip on my throat.
I tried to follow his lips with mine when he pulled away, breaking the kiss, and there was something almost boyishly delighted in his answering grin.
He might have tried to say something, but then my pussy was being licked and my brain stopped listening.
“Sweetest nectar on this goddamn earth, isn’t it, Jon?” Devin asked as he watched Jonathan settle in to devour me. His eyes were always such a gorgeous green, but there was a decidedly envious quality to it now that made me even wetter.
The way these three men shared me had such an air of cooperation in it, and that was its own brand of sexy.
But I loved the idea of Devin wanting me all to himself, too.
Maybe that want, the strong pull of it, was what let the three of them accept their lot as a trio.
Alex took up the spot beside me and leaned in to suck one needy nipple into his mouth.
That left the other one to Devin, who chose to massage me with his huge, strong hand while he kissed a fiery trail up and down my neck.
It was a buffet of wonderful sensations.
So much care, so much heat in each of these men’s mouths, in the quiet dirty words they spoke to me as they stoked my pleasure higher and higher toward a peak.
When Jonathan’s previously languorous, savoring licks became more purposeful on my pussy, it didn’t take much longer. By the time my first orgasm tore through me, turning my previously-anxious thoughts all to sunshine and glitter and blissful nothingness, I felt a shift in me.
A need for more, even as my body should, in theory, be satisfied.
I had no need to worry. Devin took Jonathan’s place between my thighs, barely undoing his pants fast enough to free his glorious cock and plunge it into me.
I cried out at the intrusion, the hard readiness of it, and Jonathan was at my mouth now, kissing away my sounds with my musk still painted over his lips, his wicked tongue.
Yes, I thought, hardly aware that I could think at all. These men can make me safe, can stop any threat from getting to me.
There was no doubt from the way they fucked me that they were powerful enough to accomplish anything. At the same time, a contradictory truth. These men will ruin me.
They’d already ruined me for anyone else.
Devin lifted my legs, slinging them over his shoulders to reach a new, almost painfully deep angle inside of me.
In a few more fierce, sinfully perfect thrusts, I was coming apart again, then Devin was swearing as he pulled out of me, spraying his hot cum across the outer part of my pussy and my lower belly.
I felt my arms reaching out for the others, begging someone else to take up the slack, then it was Alex thrusting into me. He found a steady, meticulous rhythm that matched everything about him. Precise. Efficient. Competent to the point of machinelike calm.
It was no surprise that he had me coming again in no time, flipping me onto my side as he seamlessly adjusted to a new position. It was like spooning, though he held my top leg up, pulled it back so that my foot hooked around his own svelte calf.
The new angle gave him access to my clit, too, and one surprising slow wave of an orgasm quickly turned to two, hard and fast and perfect.
When Alex needed to come, his rhythm faltered, and though my sex-deluded brain wanted to beg him not to leave me, he slid out easily just in time to burst all across my back.
I barely had time to relish the naughtiness of it, being painted by two gorgeous men’s desire at once, before my third and final fuck began.
Jonathan turned me once again, this time letting me sprawl out across his bed on my stomach.
He didn’t worry for his expensive sheets, just laid himself across my back and drove his cock into me from behind.
One long, desperate stroke that took him inside me as far as he could go.
Then, like a tease, or like he was controlling himself somehow, he stayed there.
Hard and deep and completely stationary inside me.
“You’re safe with us, angel,” I heard his rough, fear-bedraggled voice in my ear. Felt a quick, surprisingly sweet kiss to my neck, the scruff of his beard scraped my skin. Heaven. “We’ve got you.”
Quick as the moment could arrive, it ended. Jonathan was taking his turn, fucking hard into me. I closed my eyes with the perfect joy of the moment as he pounded my pussy hard enough that I’d feel it tomorrow.
It took a little more time, I thought. Maybe that was just the lust haze skewing my sense of it. But when I came one last time, Jonathan hissed in my ear, “Yes, Frankie. That’s it,” and then he was sliding out of my channel and finishing into the sheets.
We lay there together for long enough that I almost wanted to sleep. But the sound of a door opening down the hallway had my eyes snapping open, and Jonathan’s arms squeezed once around me then loosened to let me move.
“We’ve got to get up, Frankie,” he said. “Alex and Devin are off following orders, being the good little soldiers they are. Which means I get the privilege of taking care of you.”
I frowned, a little confused. “Didn’t you already do that? All three of you? Like…multiple times?”
His laugh came from the other side of the bed, where he’d rolled away to straighten himself up. “We’re taking care of a different need now. You need to eat something.”
I was almost embarrassed to not have thought about that.
It wasn’t easy to prioritize keeping myself alive when I’d just been fucked into oblivion. But at his words, my stomach gave an insistent growl, then a silky robe fell over me.
I murmured my thanks as I pulled it over my nakedness and followed Jonathan down the hallway.
His kitchen was the kind of space lifestyle magazines pretended people casually cooked in.
Clean marble counters.
Copper pans hung purposefully and artfully on the wall.
A refrigerator so big it probably had its own neighborhood watch program.
He padded across the floor barefoot, sleeves pushed up, hair still a little messy from bed. There was something dangerously intimate about that. Like I was seeing a version of him the rest of the world didn’t get.
He opened the fridge, glanced at me over his shoulder, and said, “Sit.”
I blinked. “You can cook?”
He snorted. “Did you think I’d live off takeout and protein bars?”
“…Yes?”
He gave me a flat look that somehow made my face heat. “Sit,” he repeated, gentler. “Let me handle something for you.”
It was the “for you” that got me. I found a stool at the island, pulling my knees up under the robe, and watched him move with quiet confidence—cracking eggs, slicing something, heating a pan. This wasn’t a sexy-chef performance. This was…domestic. Comfortable. Ridiculously, unfairly attractive.
“You do this a lot?” I asked.
“When everyone else forgets to eat.” He paused, expression softening. “My father…has always been the type to go eighteen hours without food if someone doesn’t force the issue.”
There was a weight to his voice I’d never heard before. A heaviness. I tilted my head. “You talk like you’re the one in charge.”
He didn’t answer right away. He plated food—simple but beautiful—and set it in front of me like I was something fragile he’d decided to keep intact.
“Here. Eat.”
I took a bite and immediately groaned because it was disgustingly good. His mouth twitched, trying not to smile.
“So,” I said, pointing my fork at him, “you’re not just some mob guy. You’re…what? The boss’s favorite? His golden boy?”
Jonathan froze for half a second. It wasn’t big, but I caught it.
“Interesting guess,” he murmured.
“Not a guess.” I grinned. “You’re too responsible. Too…commanding. And Alex and Devin fall in line with you like you’re already in charge.”
He leaned back against the counter, arms crossing loosely. “Frankie.”
“Hmm?”
“You can stop guessing.” His gaze held mine, dark and steady. “Because you’re right.”
I swallowed. Not because I was scared—but because something about his honesty hit me right under the ribs.
“You’re going to be the don,” I said quietly.
“When my father steps down, yes.” His jaw flexed. “It’s not quite the glamorous role people assume. Mostly it’s pressure. Endless pressure.” His voice softened by a hair. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Why? I like when you talk to me like this.”