Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set (54 page)

I can’t focus on much when his body is pressed against mine, and his fingers are working my clit. He shifts in deeper, taking me over the edge for several seconds.

“Oh, God…Bentley…yes…” I pant and moan at the same time. He doesn’t slow down. He continues harder as another one builds up inside me. “Fuck, Bentley…oh, God…” I can barely make a coherent thought, much less a coherent sentence.

“That’s my girl…” he whispers in my ear as he waits for my breathing to calm down.

He backs off me and pulls out without his own release. He twirls me back around to face him and slowly drops me on the bed. He bends to his knees and spreads my legs, bringing his mouth in between my legs, licking and sucking up my juices. His tongue plunges hard inside of me, hitting a sensitive spot. I can hardly take it as I’ve barely come down from the first two.

I grab fistfuls of his hair to stop him, but it only makes him work harder. He grabs both my wrists and pins them to the mattress, all while his tongue continues its tortuous play.

“Bentley…stop,” I beg. “I can’t take it.” He shakes his head, and I know I’m fighting a losing battle. “Ah, God. Ah, Bentley. Yes…oh, my GOD!” I scream with no embarrassment or shyness. He licks and sucks up my climax once again. My body is shaking from the hardest orgasm I’ve ever had.

“My name sounds good on your lips,” he muses as he finally rises and towers over me.

I swallow as I even my breathing. “That was…intense.”

He grins as he grabs both of my legs and places them on his shoulder. “Don’t quit on me now, Ceci. I told you I was a lot to handle.” He winks as he positions himself over me with both of my feet in the air.

I chuckle as he plunges back inside me. “I use to be in gymnastics, Mr. Leighton. There isn’t a position I haven’t done.” His eyes widen. “I promise
I won’t break
.”

It’s all the permission he needs to hear. He rapidly speeds up the pace as he bends my body in half, taking everything I’m willing to give.

We moan and pant together, barely able to contain the sounds that are forced out. He thrusts hard inside me and finally releases.

“Oh, God…Ceci…fucking amazing.”

He holds us in place for several seconds until he’s released every last drop. Then he slowly puts my legs down on each side of him, leaning over he captures my mouth, kissing me into an oblivious bliss.

“Better than I ever fucking imagined,” he says into my neck as he lays soft kisses. “So much fucking better.”

Cecilia

Memories

I could still smell the popcorn when I woke up in the middle of the night. Friday was always family movie night, and Nathan, Casey, and I had all shared a bag. We snuggled on mounds of pillows and blankets on the floor as our parents cuddled up on the couch, watching some Disney animation movie.

The three of us fell asleep on the floor, and I vaguely remembered Dad carrying me back into my bed. He kissed my forehead and covered me up. “Goodnight, Princess.”

The sound of yelling woke me up hours later. It was still dark out, and my eyes were blurry, but I rubbed them open as I got out of my bed.

I crept to my door and slowly opened it. The hall light was off, but I could see the kitchen light on in the distance. I tiptoed as quietly as I could down the hall and peeked around to the kitchen where my parents were arguing.

“Goddammit!” my mother cursed. Her hands were flailing at my dad as she continued. “How could you spend all that money? How could you, when we have a family to support?” she screamed.

He hushed her and went to reach for her, but she pushed back. “Claire, please. I’ll take care of this. I promise.”

I could hear her crying through her hands that were covering her face. I wanted to run to her and give her a hug. I wanted to comfort her and ask her what was wrong, but I could tell it was something that my dad had done.

“How, Brock? How the hell do you plan to pay back seventy-five thousand dollars? We don’t have that kind of money!”

He fell to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist. I could see she was trying to fight him off, but after a few seconds, she gave up.

“I’ll ask for an extension. It’ll be fine,” he promised. “Ramiro will get me some extra time.”

My mom’s hands finally released her face. Her eyes were red and her skin was blotchy. I knew it was something really awful if mom was crying like that.

“We’ll have to sell the house,” she said, deadpan. “There’s no other way we’ll come up with that money.”

“No…we can take out a second mortgage or something, Claire. We can’t sell our house.”

“And how are we going to pay on that steep of a mortgage, Brock? With one income and three kids?” Her face was stern, and I knew that look meant serious trouble. “You gambled away our life savings!”

“I’ll get back in the business. I’ll get more money.” He stood up and promised her. He cupped her cheek and kissed it softly. “I’ll do anything.”

I wake up rattled, draped in Bentley’s arms. My mind quickly analyzes the dream I just had.
Ramiro.
A name I don’t remember ever hearing. But it gives me something I didn’t have before.

I look over to Bentley. He’s breathing quietly next to me, as we both lay naked in his bed. He looks relaxed as he sleeps, not a worry wrinkle in sight.

I carefully slip out of his grip, wrapping myself in a loose sheet on the floor. This was my chance to snoop around for anything I could use. If his dad worked on my dad’s case, it’s possible that the information is around.

I walk to the door and slowly open it, quickly looking behind my shoulder to double-check he hasn’t woken up.

I creep down the hallway to look for his office, finding a linen closet and bathroom before I spot the door that opens to a desk and walls lined with filing cabinets.

I close the door behind me and sit at his desk behind the computer. I move the mouse and his home screen pops on. I have no idea where to look or how I’m going to get in, but I have to try.

I browse his files and one pops out at me:
Dad’s Cases.
I double click and a password code box pops up.
Shit.
Password.

I try
Leighton.

Denied.

Bentley.

Denied.
Too easy.

I tap my fingers restlessly as I try to think of possible passwords. This is Bentley’s personal home computer, so I imagine it’s something closely related to him—something he’s passionate about.

I can tell from the pictures and articles that I found about him online that he was very passionate about one thing: the one thing he’s unable to do anymore
—modeling.

I try again.

Denied.

Shit.
I’m running out of time. I shuffle through the papers on top of his desk for any kind of clue.

Nothing.

I open up the first drawer and spot a bunch of magazines.
Men’s Fitness.
I move them around and look underneath for anything and then as my fingers brush against the glossy pages—it hits me.

I grab the magazines and flip through them.
Men’s Fitness
is a fashion and health magazine—
models.
Bentley use to model for a variety of magazines and photographers, but he was only represented through one agency—the most popular agency in the US—
Elite Storm
.

With nothing to lose, I try one more time.

E-L-I-T-E S-T-O-R-M

Access granted.

I squeal quietly as I gather myself back together and begin searching.

Docs, files, and scanned images pop up in the folder. There are hundreds of them. They are all organized from month and year. I look for the month and year of my dad’s death.

My heart is racing as I spot it finally. I double click and browse through the names on the folders.

Anderson.

Easton.

Hunts.

Rodriquez.

West.

I double click the last one and up pops all of my dad’s case information. I’m so stunned. My fingers are shaking as I move the mouse around.

The folder marked police files is the first one I click on. The police report basically says what I already know from the newspapers and from the little my mother told me.
Drive-by shooter. No helpful witnesses. Found six bullets.

I try to think of how many times my dad was shot and how many shots I remember hearing. He was hit twice, which means four were missed—one grazed my shoulder, but I was nowhere near my father, which means the shooter was moving as he drove past our house and shot through his window. He didn’t slow down as I originally thought—he could’ve cared less that there were three kids outside and in the way of his target.

It makes sense as to why my sister only partially saw the license plate and how the neighbors hadn’t seen anything. Drive-by. No stopping to make sure they even hit their target.

I exit out and click on the witnesses’ folder. I know they spoke to my mother a few days after I was home from the hospital. She was a sobbing mess, but tried to keep it together for our sake.

A friend of my mom was over when the detective came over to ask her questions. She took us out of the room, so I didn’t hear anything my mother told me, but this report outlined the conversation.

She confessed that my dad was in debt to another man, but she claimed not to know who. My father had gotten into some financial issues and was working on repaying him. She said it was months ago, and the report said police weren’t sure if they were linked or not to the shooting.

Another part of the report said the bullets were analyzed by technicians and were being put through the database for any matches to another crime. I know from my previous research that this was to cross-analyze against other shootings, but the results weren’t posted in the report.

I click out of the folder to search through the evidence folder when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I quickly click out of everything and hold in my breath, but my heart races as I start plotting my way out of this.

Without making the chair squeak, I quietly push backward and dip down underneath the desk. I squeeze under the desk and pull the chair in as much as possible. He can’t find out I’m in here.

Bentley

I wake up with the taste of her still in my mouth. The way her body tastes drives me insane. Everything about her makes me want more. The firmness of her breasts, the taste of her arousal on my lips, the way her body tightens around me has me desperately craving more of her.

I’m thirsty as hell and decide I need to get up and grab something to drink. I roll over to kiss Ceci, but feel the cold bed under my hand instead. Her side is empty, and I start panicking that she’s left.

My memory starts flashing back to the night’s events. My heart beats faster as I think about Ceci and her body pressed up against mine—her stunning face, mouth, and legs. She’s fucking gorgeous.

The way she gave in to me, screamed for me, and released with me starts getting my cock hard again. If this is what being with Ceci is going to be like, I’m going to have a permanent boner.

I find my briefs on the floor and slide them on before going out the door. I stumble to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water, chugging the entire thing before throwing it out and walking back down the hallway. I expect to see the bathroom light on, but it isn’t. I drove her here, so she couldn’t have possibly left.

Unless she intentionally snuck out on me.

The thought makes my blood boil. Leaving me like a one-night stand when I have clearly made her mine... My hands turn to fists as I walk down the hall to look for her.

I open the bathroom door, but it’s empty.

“Ceci?” I call. No response.

I continue walking down to my office. The door is closed, but I step in anyway.

The room is still and silent, as I expect it to be, but I call for her again anyway. “Ceci, you here?”

Nothing.

Fucking A.

Rage builds inside me as I imagine the worst.
She fucking bailed.

I start storming out of my office when something on the floor catches my eye.

Part of my white sheet.

It’s peeking out from underneath my desk. I look up at my office chair and see it’s not pulled in all the way.

She’s hiding.

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