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A growl escapes my lips, the sound as savage as the renewed need clawing inside me like a feral beast, desperate to be set free. “My baby wants to know how to please her man, does she?”
She nods and laughs when I toss her onto the mattress. When I dive between her legs and take a long, long lick of her soaking pussy, her moans fill the air. I then focus on her pulsing back entrance, which is eager for a little attention. When it’s nice and slick, I slowly ease in my pinkie. Her entire body shudders. “Hawk,” she gasps.
“I love the taste of you,” I say and feast on her flesh. Her hips buck as I find her clit and attack. While I’m keeping her distracted with my tongue, I take the beads and carefully sink a set into her back hole, keeping the necklace looped around my finger. That’s enough—this time. When I move to my knees and thrust my cock deep inside her tight pussy, she cries out.
“That’s it,” I prod her with both my dick and my words. “Make noise, baby. I want to hear how much you love having your Hawk’s cock inside you.”
“I love it,” she whimpers and arches her back. “Oh, Hawk. What’s happening? W-Wh-What!” Her body thrashes as her orgasm sneaks up and captures her. I slowly remove the necklace one bead at a time. With each pulse of a bead being pulled out, she bucks and screams as her climax is more than her body can control.
It’s more than I can control too and I plunge hard and deep, jetting my release inside her body as the last of the beads make their way out. Betty continues to cry and writhe until the last bead pops out of her ass. Only then does she fall to the mattress.
“Wow,” she gasps.
I couldn’t agree more.
* * *
Betty’s napping upstairs, our latest roleplay—this one of a Russian princess and her bodyguard—exhausted us both. She has a very vivid imagination. It’s one of about a million things I love about my honeybee.
As much as I want to stay curled up behind her, our bodies flush together, I can no longer ignore the stirring in my gut. I already know who the mole is, having figured it out as soon as the little fucker showed up unannounced earlier today. I never gave Lewis the address to my cabin. Betty didn’t know it. Josh only knew it when I texted it to him, so unless he made the unfortunate, and deadly, decision to text it to the boss’s weasel dick of a son—and I know Josh well enough to know he hates Lewis Grimm about as much as I do—there’s only one other explanation as to how Lewis knew where to deliver Betty’s globe. And now I’m sure he somehow altered her precious globe to spy on us, knowing she’d keep it somewhere close to her, somewhere safe. There’s no doubt in my mind…
Lewis Grimm is the fucking mole.
