Page 115 of The Romeo Arrangement


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“And miss a chance to fill you up again? It’s like you’re trying to give me the biggest dilemma ever known to man.”

She giggles, falling against my shoulder.

“We’re hopeless, aren’t we?” Sighing, she stands. “And I still don’t know what dress I’m wearing.”

Dress?

Oh, right.

Thoughts of round two are already swallowing my brain.

“Still plenty of time to figure that out,” I say, cupping her breasts.

Excitement flickers in her eyes as she nods, glancing down at my cock. It’s standing as tall and proud as when she’d first taken it into her mouth.

She touches the tip. “I guess if we take an extended break…”

“Under me. Ass up. You need a pillow?” I ask as she saunters to the bed and obeys.

“I’ve got the headboard to claw. Just try not to ram me through it headfirst,” she says, more than half serious.

I grin.

Turns out, I’m the one who needs something to hold on to as I mount her from behind, pushing balls deep.

I’ve been falling all damn month.

Falling hard, falling fast, falling madly in love with this woman who’s become my total obsession.

She moans real sweet for me as I take her, pushing her on to her next release, animalistic grunts ripping out of me as I take her to the brink.

Nothing about sex ever disappoints with her, except for one thing—it has to end.

And it does, ten minutes later, when we’re both soaked in sweat and I have her pinned down, emptying myself inside her, grinding my seed, loving how her pussy sucks off every inch of me when she comes so hard it shatters her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks after we’re both flopped down on our backs and almost breathing like human beings again.

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Just soaking you up, darlin’. Sometimes, I can’t believe it.”

“You’re the gorgeous one, remember?” she whispers. “There are days when I can’t believe I’m having sex with a movie star. Ridge Barnet. The most handsome man in the world.”

“Hey, I won a lot of awards, but I was never voted that,” I say with a wink, rolling between her legs, positioning myself over her again.

The more we talk, the more I’m ready to go again.

“But you were.” She arches her hips up, taking the tip of me inside her. “I took a vote. You won. The end.”

Shit!

There’s no time to even laugh, considering she wants it as bad as I do.

Grace pulls me down, pushing her legs against mine so my length sinks deep inside her.

I’ve won something, all right.

Raging need surges through me.

Grabbing her shoulders, I slam her against the mattress as her legs push harder on mine, urging me on. My mouth buries hers in a blinding kiss.

Then it’s all instinct, fast, out of control, and absolutely carnal.

You already know I don’t just mean the sex.

The weekend comes in no time and I glance at the clock.

Six hours until the party starts.

It seems like everyone’s on edge around here, from Jackie telling us Nelson’s ornerier than ever, to Corny screaming at one a.m., to the horses snorting and staring off into the distance this morning.

I’m determined, but nervous as hell.

We still don’t have direct confirmation it’s Grendal himself delivering the drugs.

Faulk thinks for sure it’ll be him. He says his FBI spooks told him Clay left Milwaukee with half a dozen guys, three vehicles, but only two of the vehicles arrived in Dallas a couple hours ago.

All the big guests Bebe invited are filing into the hotel in town where it’s due to take place.

She’s there, too, helping coordinate and relay info. I might owe her a fourth damn movie just for dragging her back out to Dallas one more time.

The drugs are total decoys. They’ll never make it to anyone. Hard evidence due to be handed over to an undercover FBI informant with ties to the DEA, posing as an event planner.

Bebe went along with the scheme, as promised, insisting she wanted the crap delivered straight from the manufacturer to make sure they haven’t been cut or altered before delivery. She worked her L.A. sources over until they put her in touch with a place that could do it, conveniently just a few hours away in Fargo.

Apparently, the Old Town Boys are active there, too, using it as one of their depots before the shit flows farther west or north into Canada.

She told them they’d get seven figures for a successful execution.

As much as it annoys me, I’m glad she played it up, letting it be known far and wide in the underground that I only settle for the best of the best, and pay a king’s ransom.

One of the club owners came through, touching base with Clay’s main distributor.

The bastard couldn’t have had any doubt about the source of the request here in little old Dallas.

Faulk’s also at the hotel, helping Drake put up additional surveillance. Even Grady has someone watching his kids so he can be ready at a moment’s notice.

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