Chapter Twenty-One

STEPHEN

Clint and Mia were due to get married in a few days, so the decorators had been busy getting the yard ready. The wedding was to be held here, at the estate. With the vast block and the woods bordering the back of the warehouse, Mia had fallen in love with the setting for the romantic, rustic-style ceremony she envisioned. They’d decided early on to spend less on the wedding and more on their honeymoon. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them.

The last few weeks had been chaos. Stress levels were high—for both Clint and me.

We knew, without a doubt, that either Dave or Chad had been doing the dirty. And it was only a matter of time before we found out which one it was. This was the part of the business I hated most—dealing with betrayal from within. I treated my boys well, paid them better than most crews in the city. I did that for a reason—to avoid situations exactly like this.

Clint and Mia were out with her family tonight, soaking up some pre-wedding downtime before everything kicked off in full swing tomorrow. The other guys were out on deliveries. I’d sent Dave, Chad, and Mike together on purpose. Without Clint to be my eyes tonight, I figured packing them in tight with oversight was my best option. The rat wouldn’t risk anything if they were being watched from every angle.

Which left me alone at the house … with my doll.

We’d gone for a late swim, and after finishing up in the shower, I’d gone to look for her.

I found her in the kitchen—with a jar of Nutella and a spatula.

Leaning against the doorway, I took a moment to just watch her. Trinity was licking delicately at the spatula, lost in her own little world. It was oddly mesmerizing—and incredibly arousing. Her tongue dragged over the chocolate-covered edge in slow, deliberate strokes. I twitched under the towel wrapped around my waist; the pressure mounting instantly. I stood there, transfixed, until her eyes suddenly locked with mine.

“Sorry…” she bit her bottom lip, glancing down. “I got hungry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, smirking as I stepped in further.

She gave a little shrug, cheeks flushed. “Eating like a slob.”

I cocked my head. “I’m not seeing that. Actually … I found it highly arousing.”

That surprised her, but I meant every word. “How could I not?” I teased, leaving the door wide open for her mischief. And boy, did she take it.

Trinity leaned back against the counter and opened her mouth wide, letting the Nutella drip slowly from the spatula onto her tongue. Her eyes remained locked with mine the entire time. My cock flexed hard beneath the towel.

I stalked toward her, my hands gripping her hips the moment I reached her. She looked up at me, anticipation written all over her face.

“Daddy’s hungry…” I growled, voice low and feral.

She perched herself on the edge of the counter, legs parting for me. Her warm pussy brushed against the rigid bulge straining beneath my towel. I loomed over her, catching her lips with mine in a kiss that was messy, greedy, filled with the taste of chocolate and lust.

“I want a taste,” I murmured, reaching for the spatula in her hand.

***

TRINITY

“Let me get you your own…” I teased, laughing as I tried to pull it away from him. But Stephen let it go mid-wrestle—and the spatula smeared chocolate down my chin, across my neck, and along my arm.

I froze. His eyes narrowed with heated interest. He stepped closer, claiming the moment.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

His mouth descended on my chin, kissing, licking, tasting every inch of smeared sweetness. His lips grazed the corner of my mouth, then trailed lower, across my neck, and down to my collarbone. My skin flushed hot, my body buzzing from the sensation of his tongue paired with the chilled air of the kitchen.

I blindly set the Nutella jar on the counter, needing space for what was to come. His lips had already dipped to my shoulder when his hand untied my bikini top. The strap fell away, and he pulled the garment away, baring my breasts to the cool air and his smoldering gaze.

With a mischievous smile, I dipped the spatula back into the jar and brought it up over my chest.

“Stephen,” I breathed, my voice thick with arousal. “Look.”

His head lifted. His eyes locked on me, and I watched the emerald green in his irises darken as he took in the sight of Nutella slowly dripping down my skin.

“Yum,” he muttered before diving in.

His mouth chased every drop, tongue flicking and teeth grazing. When he reached my nipple, he sucked it into his mouth, slurping greedily. My body arched. A needy moan escaped me.

He kept going, lips teasing, tongue swirling until I was clawing at his back. I crushed his head to my chest, fingers threading through his thick hair. Then I pulled him up for a kiss—desperate, consuming, and soaked in chocolate and lust.

His hands gripped the side of my bikini bottom and, with one hard yank, it tore clean off. I reached for his towel, tugging it free and letting it fall to the tiled floor.

We were naked and ravenous for each other.

Stephen picked up the spatula. “Check this out, doll.”

He dragged it through the Nutella and smeared a line from the base to the tip of his cock.

My eyes widened. “Delicious,” I grinned, squatting down in front of him.

I started by licking the thick glob from the head, swirling my tongue seductively. I kissed every drip from the top, focusing my suction where the head met the shaft—watching his eyes while I did.

He leaned back against the counter, letting his head fall back with a groan. His fingers stroked my cheek and shoulder, but mostly he just watched, transfixed, as my lips slid over him.

The hazelnut spread turned slick under my tongue, turning every motion into a smooth, wet glide. I took him deeper, faster, until I could feel the tension coil in his thighs. I slowed my pace, teasing him, licking away the last of the sweetness until he slipped from my lips with a pop.

Stephen looked down at me with a devilish grin and reached for my hands, pulling me to my feet.

He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the rolled edge of the counter. The cool surface beneath me was a stark contrast to the heat burning between us. Then, without a word, Stephen reached for the spatula again. My breath caught in my throat as he dipped it one final time, then raised it high and let it drizzle—long, sticky ribbons of Nutella spattering across my lower belly and thighs.

He bent low, mouth open, and lapped at the chocolate streaks coating the tops of my thighs. His tongue moved in languid, sinfully slow strokes. I whimpered, arching toward him, my hands tangled around his shoulders as I stroked and scratched at the taut expanse of his back, needing to feel connected while he teased me into insanity.

Stephen straightened slightly and pushed me back, so I was resting on my elbows. His eyes, dark with lust, locked with mine—and in that second I knew what was coming. And God … I wanted it.

But he made me wait.

His mouth descended again, lips grazing my skin as he kissed and licked the Nutella lower, smoothing it with his tongue across the very bottom of my stomach. Every breath I took felt shallower than the last, the tension inside me coiling tighter with each slow, deliberate pass of his mouth.

I lifted my hips, opened my legs in invitation, my silent plea clear.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t need to.

He already knew.

When he had licked every inch of chocolate from my skin, leaving my belly bare and gleaming, he dipped lower still. Hooking my knees over his broad shoulders, Stephen took a long, hungry look between my thighs. My legs perched on his back, wide open, ready—burning. His face hovered an inch from my dripping pussy. He looked up at me for just a moment, his eyes smoldering with wicked promise.

And then he licked me—softly at first, delicately, directly to my clit. My breath hitched, hips jerking as I gasped aloud. His tongue flattened, tracing my folds with long, teasing swipes, dragging over my slick skin until I thought I would lose my mind. Every time he circled back to my clit, I cried out, the wet, rhythmic attention sending electric pulses through every nerve ending in my body.

Stephen always liked to watch my face when he went down on me—and I knew what he’d see now: flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes fluttering open and closed. It was so hot watching him—and feeling him—at the same time. When his tongue thrust inside me, strong and deep, my body arched with need. That unmistakable thrusting motion with his tongue always drove me mad. It made me wild for him, desperate to feel him inside me fully. And I knew, knew, he did it on purpose—for that exact reaction.

“Fuck, you taste so good, doll,” he groaned as he stood.

My body trembled, already close. He positioned himself between my legs, and our gazes locked. Then, with one slow, devastating push, he eased the thick weight of his cock inside me. The stretch made my mouth fall open, and I cried out, muscles clenching around him as he filled me.

He smiled, dark and possessive, and pushed deeper still.

I could feel how soaked I was. I was dripping, pulsing, aching. I clamped down on him with everything I had. Every inch of him moved deeper inside, and I purred when he bottomed out, the tip of him pressing into that sweet spot that made my whole body hum.

I locked my legs around his hips, squeezing him on the way in, tightening with every retreat. Our eyes never left each other. The soft light of the kitchen mixed with the silver moonlight streaming through the windows, casting everything in a surreal glow. It was carnal. Sacred. Beautiful.

And then … he hammered me.

There was no other word for it. He pounded into me with every ounce of strength in that gorgeous, sculpted body. My hips bucked wildly as pleasure rocketed through me. I couldn’t stop the waves if I tried. They began to build—deep and hard—flooding through my belly, radiating out to my legs, my arms, even the roots of my hair.

Stephen slipped his hands beneath my ass, gripping tightly, using the leverage to thrust deeper, harder, pulling me into each stroke. Our hips smacked together with rhythmic, filthy slaps that echoed in the room. I cried out as the orgasm crested—my muscles gripping him, spasming, trembling with release.

And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more—he gave me more.

He reached up, lifted my legs back over his shoulders, and wrapped both hands around my throat. Then he slammed into me. Again. And again. His growl vibrated through my chest. My scream rang out beneath him.

We were right there—both of us.

My vision blurred. My body burned. My hands clawed at the counter behind me. I was coming again, this time harder. Deeper. I knew he was, too. I felt the tension in every muscle of his body as he roared out my name—

And then—

The fucking door burst open.

“Boss!” voices shouted in unison.

Fuck.