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Slowly, my eyes open. My heart’s racing as my lungs heave for oxygen. I pull my fingers out, slimy and coated with my own nectar and look at them for a moment, befuddled. But then, I remember where I am and with a secret smile, bring them up to my lips for a quick suck. Mmm, they do taste good, and now, I just hope that one of the men behind the panels was turned on by what he saw.

4

Rick

Holy fuck.

My dick is rock hard and it’s all I can do not to break the mirror so that I can shove it deep inside that curvy brunette in the pale yellow lingerie. I noticed her the second she walked into the room, looking fresh and innocent and nervous. After all, she was gorgeous beyond belief with a sweet smile, enormous breasts, and a big belly that made my jaw drop to the ground. Fuck, how far is she along? Three months? Four? Five? I want to know.

But at first, I wasn’t sure anything was going to happen. The beautiful brunette almost seemed lost at the beginning, watching the other women undress, staring wide-eyed as they began touching themselves. Her full, pouty lips even parted in a silent gasp when one of the women leaned back and began moaning while tweaking her nips.

But I wrong about her because now, she’s going at it hard on the couch. She’s got four fingers plugged in her bag, and her head’s tipped back with an expression of lustful bliss. Those big breasts shake even as her fingers worm deeper inside, her pussy lips stretched to the max.

Holy shit. I want to be the one pounding her, and I watch, slack-jawed, as the pregnant woman goes at it hard. Then she clenches and explodes with climax, wailing beautifully as her sweet snatch spasms on her hand. I stare, unable to tear my eyes from that fertile form when suddenly her eyes open too, seemingly looking straight at me. God, she’s gorgeous. Her gaze is deep brown, their depths conveying sweetness and lust. She’s panting, her skin sheened in sweat, even as her long mane trembles a little, waving as the last aftershocks pass through her body.

I growl under my breath, wanting her. No, needing her.

She’s mine, I decide.

Immediately, I text Maria. “I want the pregnant one.”

I stare at the woman. Now that the beautiful brunette’s come, she’s running her hands through her hair, as if she’s just been thoroughly plowed and lounging in her lover’s bed.

I’ll give her something to appreciate, I mutter under my breath, my staff already hard as stone in my pants. Then, my phone buzzes, and I flip it open.

“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Taylor, but Hannah has already been claimed. Please let me know if I can interest you in another escort.”

I reread the message, my blood boiling. WTF? How the fuck did that happen? Some other bastard wants her? I sweep a look over the room, rage seething in my veins. I’m going to kill whichever motherfucker it is. Hell, I’ll double his price. No, triple it.

But then my shoulders slump because it’s unlikely City Girls will reveal the name of the bidder. Protocol, and all that. Defeat and regret fill my veins, making me sag in my seat. It’s not Maria’s fault, but this whole shitshow feels as if it’s been in vain. I came; I saw; and I did not conquer.

“Fuck me,” I curse under my breath. I’ve never wanted a woman more in my life, and I’m mad as hell about it. I drum my fingers on my leg, pondering my options, but nothing springs to mind. What should I do? Try a bribe? Threaten to burn down the place?

At that moment, Cade lets out a throaty chuckle. He’s staring hard at the women on the other side of the mirror, and am I mistaken or has he taken his shaft out? Oh yeah, that’s it, gleaming in the dark and I shake my head, disgusted. What a dirty bastard.

“Fuck, these woman are into it tonight,” he groans, his hand moving faster as he watches a woman grind against the arm of a couch. “Damn, they’re nasty.”

I merely shake my head, still seething with anger. Meanwhile, my friend never turns from the mirror, his eyes watching the voluptuous redhead as she seems to ride herself to a peak.

“Mmph!” he groans just as she seems to explode as well, shuddering hard as she hump her hips into the couch arm one last time. “Hell yeah!”

Then he blinks a couple times before tossing a crumpled napkin onto the table between us.

“Do you mind?” I ask. “I don’t need to see your warm jism.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” he says, shrugging. “What’s with you anyways? These girls are ten out of tens. Aren’t you having a good time?”

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