Simmons was sweating profusely as he replaced the phone. An instruction from the top meant he had to tread carefully. He had to follow orders. Or else… It had been his weakness, his involvement with a woman, that had caused him to be in this unpleasant position today, he thought bitterly. How could he have known, he argued with himself, that a few meetings in a motel room, would bring so much of trouble? Photographs and videos had been sent anonymously to his mail and his phone and he had been alarmed. And the blackmail had begun.
Simmons had a wife and three children, a small house which was mortgaged and his wife, Beth, worked as a nurse in the local hospital. She would be livid if she found out. And would leave him, taking the three children, no question about that. It was that knowledge which was breaking him. He did not love his wife anymore, but they lived compatibly enough beneath the same roof; his children were his joy. So he had slipped up; didn’t men do such things? Boys would be boys, after all, he told himself loftily. When a pretty young woman called Laura Conners had sidled up to him at the pub one night and had singled him out for her attentions, he had been flattered.
She was smoking hot, young and only appeared to have eyes for him. Middle-aged Simmons, with his beer belly and thinning hair, had fallen into the trap-Swift and hard. Only, at the time, he did not know that the formidable old gangster, Cahill, was behind it all. And he had not known then, that he had been chosen to be used. * Laura Connors had disappeared once the photos had begun to land on his phone. And now, he was trapped. He worked for St Just and his brother, the Mafia boss, Liam O’Grady. And Joe Cahill wanted to bring them down, using him, Simmons, as a mole. Simmons buried his face in his hands and let out a dry sob. Either way, he was a dead man walking.
Bianca was much better after a couple of days. Her Masters took turns to spend time with her and Sylvie stayed on till she was back on her feet. Strangely enough, Bianca took a liking to the older woman, who wore daringly short clothes and leather boots, with dangling earrings and hair coloured wild and clashing. Bianca could not help but dimple as she saw the adoring way in which Barry looked at her. Over coffee one afternoon, as Bianca sat curled on the couch, watching a rom-com with Sylvie, the biker’s woman said,
“Me and Barry have four kids. One of them is mine by another man, but Barry’s okay with that.” Bianca sat up, concerned. “Who’s with them then?” she asked, hating the fact that Sylvie had left them to come and care for her, Bianca. The woman seemed puzzled by the question. “Oh, they’re at the club,’ she said airily, waving her hands,” My girlfriends there, all old ladies, y’know, they’ll take care of them. And my eldest is already a prospect.”
Bianca sat up, confused.
What’s a prospect? she thought Sylvie chuckled. ” James. My son. He’s fourteen. Wants to be a biker like his dad. He’s at the Club, training, y’know.” Bianca didn’t know but she listened and nodded her head wisely. *
That evening, after Barry had taken his old lady back, Bianca sat with her feet in S Just’s lap while O’Grady held her to his chest. His hands moved over her and she closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensations. His strong, thickly muscled body behind her, the fragrance of his citrus mixed with his body musk and the smell of alcohol, for O’Grady had come from doing a circuit of his gambling dens…his presence was what soothed her, she thought faintly. It made her feel safe. Those big arms, cradling her as she shifted.
She wanted to confess, tell him she loved him but she did not. And as St Just spoke, she felt grateful for having held her tongue. “Barbara Watermann was asking for you when I met her at Washington,” said the lean and tawny-eyed St Just, watching Bianca and O’Grady as they sat at the other end of the couch. St Just had taken off his jacket and he was stroking, massaging her feet in a deliciously erotic way. She murmured and shifted, her womanhood tightening. Bianca was wearing one of St Just’s fine silk shirts and nothing under it. Her Masters had been firm on that. They wanted to touch and to feel and undergarments got in the way, as O’Grady put it bluntly.
So, she half lay, her shirt open, revealing her full, heavy breasts with the firm nipples. It made her look unconsciously wanton, her heavy brown curls falling around her shoulders and onto O’Grady’s chest, as she reclined, looking seductive. O’Grady’s c*ck was rock hard and his black eyes were narrowed on her flat belly and her mound beyond.
She kept her feet demurely crossed but St Just ws having none of it. He lifted a foot casually, a hand straying up her thighs, slapping the insides gently, but with enough force to make Bianca gasp and shudder. St Just went on, almost in a bored way, “Barbara was asking for you when I met her at Washington,” said the lean and handsome man as he lifted one of Bianca’s feet and began to suck her pretty toe. She gasped and almost sat up but O’Grady held her down, his hands stroking her breasts unhurriedly.
“Barbara?” he grunted, his hand moving to one of Bianca’s breasts, tweaking the nipple and she moaned and wriggled, her thighs getting wet. “She wanted to know when she could come over, bro.,” St Just went on, his eyes fixed on Bianca who was moving helplessly, writhing as O’Grady’s caresses became more demanding.
“We f*cked her a long time back, didn’t we, Saint,” growled O’Grady, his head descending to Bianca’s teat and she stiffened slightly as the full import of what he had said came to her. St Just sighed. “A few months ago, O’Grady,” he said drily, and went on, as he licked and sucked Bianca’s foot, “Before we got the Pet.” And then, as he palmed his erection, he went on, “I remember you spent a few nights with her after that too.
She seemed mightily impressed by you. Kept asking for you, so I gave your number.” He bit Bianca’s toe and she whimpered, but her body was stiff. * Bianca felt as though a large icy hand had gripped her heart. She knew it was foolish of her to expect these men to return her love; they were hard men, Masters who had been at the game a long time before she ever came on the scene…but she felt her heart wring.
No, she told herself sternly, I am NOT going to allow my stupid heart to ruin things for me. I love Liam O’Grady and St Just; maybe not in the same way, but I love them. I shall enjoy what I have; who cares about tomorrow?
And with that thought, she raised her head to meet O’Grady’s questing mouth as he pulled her onto his lap. Her shirt fell open and she perched on his lap, his thickness exposed for he had pulled his trousers down to his knees.
Delicately, she climbed on him, hissing softly as she slid onto the length of him, her head thrown back as her womanhood was stretched to its fullest to accommodate his considerable girth.
O’Grady swallowed. Sweet Jaysus, he groaned and bent his mouth , sucking her neck, biting as he began to lift her, holding her waist. The way she had lowered herself on him, her glistening wet pus*y dripping wet, the scent of her arousal swirling around him… If he had not been turned on already, he would have had an instant erection.
With a massive roar, he began to pound her in earnest and St Just came up, palming his thick member, his eyes glazed with lust. She turned her head and as O’Grady watched, St Just guided his thick c*ck into Bianca’s willing mouth. It was a scene they had done many times in the past with women as they shared them. But not with Bianca. Not today.