Profit & Lace: A Dark MMF Romance Page 17

  “I’m -- I’m gonna --” I start to say, but the words die in my throat as Carter slams his cock into me with such strength, his two fingers unleashing hell on my clit. I come just like that, my words being replaced by a violent scream, loud enough to shatter glass and rupture my own eardrums.

  Instead of stopping as I come, Carter just redoubles his efforts; he pounds me hard and mercilessly, each movement of his completely demolishing me. I let him do it until I feel his cock start pulsing hard against my sides, and then I can’t help myself; I throw my body forward, his cock suddenly popping out of my pussy, and turn around to meet his gaze.

  “I want you to come… in my mouth,” I whisper, sliding down to the floor and kneeling there. With a grin on his lips, he goes up to his feet, his hard cock glistening from my pussy cream.

  “That sounds perfect,” he exhales softly, the tone of his voice telling me that he’s close to cumming. All he needs now is just a little push. And that’s exactly what I want to give him.

  Reaching for him with one hand, I curl my fingers around his shaft and then lean into him, parting my lips and resting them right over the tip of his cock. I close my eyes and suck on him, the musky scent of my own pussy blanketing my mind and making me lose all control. Before I can stop myself, I open my mouth as wide as I can and let my lips roll down the whole length of his shaft, only stopping when I feel his cock pressed tight against the back of my throat. Then, wasting no time, I start bobbing my head back and forth as fast as I can, still grabbing his cock with one hand and stroking him with a matching rhythm.

  “Fuck, that feels so good,” he says, his head thrown back as he lays both his hands on the top of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. He moves his hips slightly, working in tandem with my mouth, and I close my eyes and surrender to this beautiful dance of sex and lust we’re creating.

  Of course, it doesn’t last long; all it takes is just a few seconds and his cock throbbing against my thong. A fraction of a second later and he starts shooting up his cum into my mouth, its thick saltiness filling me up fast, strands of semen already escaping from between my lips and dripping down my chin and his shaft.

  I keep on sucking and licking as he comes, not bothering with all of the cum escaping my mouth. A stream of semen makes it way down my chin and continues lazily toward my breasts, and that just makes me go even harder, needing to have Carter gush his whole load into my mouth. And that’s quite a task, let me tell you; he cums in gallons, a never-ending stream of his seed spurting inside my mouth.

  When his cock’s spasms finally die down, I roll my lips out from his shaft and look up at him, enjoying the expression of pure ecstasy on his face. With my eyes locked on his, I offer him a wicked smile, run the tip of my tongue over my cum-coated lips, and swallow.

  His manly taste—oak and ocean—goes down my throat easily, and my eyes never leave Carter’s as I do it.

  “Come here, baby girl,” he says, slowly going down to his knees. He grabs me by the hair and, without waiting for a reaction, he leans in and crushes his mouth against mine. Our tongues roll together in a blanket of cum, and I feel a few beads dripping down both our chins, the wickedness of what we’re doing making my head spin.

  When he pulls back from me, Carter rolls to the side and lies down on the floor, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. I lie down by his side, my hand looking for him, and lock my fingers on his.

  “So good…” I whisper, staring blankly at the ceiling while a dreadful word dances over my tongue. “But --”

  “I know,” he cuts me short, squeezing my hand softly. “It’s not the same.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I find myself saying, my heart tightening inside my chest as I think of Derek. As perfect as it is with Carter … nothing can compare to what the three of us experienced. More than perfection, that was transcendence.

  We’re three matching pieces and now, one of us is missing, and we’re incomplete.

  Chapter Thirty

  Carter

  Fifteen.

  That’s how many direct requests to pull out money from my funds are delivered to my office 24 hours after Derek’s little press conference. I swear that little asshole thinks he can absolve himself of everything by just throwing me under the bus and tossing in Eliza too and walk away, he’s got another thing coming. I don’t need my billions of dollars to use my fists.

  Five.

  That’s how many minutes after I get really pissed at Derek that it usually takes me to calm down. While I can’t understand what possessed him to do what he did, I do know that he probably felt that he had to. As much as I’m angry at Derek, I know deep down that somehow he tried his best and he didn’t want to harm us.

  I know you’re probably even rolling your eyes at that one. I mean in what universe does going on national television with all major news networks recording and saying that two people pressured you to launder money outside of the United States not a premeditated attack on the credibility of the person you’re accusing? But somehow, and don’t ask me how, but somehow I know that Derek was trying to spare us from the worst of it. Somehow he said what he had to, but I know he’s trying to give himself room.

  Sixteen.

  That’s the number of interview or comment requests I’m getting every hour either at home or at work. Somehow, reporters have managed to track down my personal unlisted home phone number as well as my cell phone number. Thank God the jackals haven’t gotten to Eliza yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time.

  Five.

  That’s how many lawyers Eliza has brought on board. They’re joining three of my lawyers and together we’re ready to fight anything that comes out of this mess within 24 hours of Derek’s bombshell.

  Ten.

  That’s how many hours it takes Wanda to show us her hand. Turns out, either she planned this or this was exactly the opportunity she was waiting for because within ten hours we get a notice that Wanda is taking Eliza to Probate Court to contest the articles of the Seymour Family Estate’s will that places Eliza in charge. According to court filed documents, Wanda, as a trustee, no longer has confidence that Eliza is of sound mind and body and of the proper integrity and character to carry out her duties specified. Wanda Seymour is looking to have her stepdaughter removed as the custodian of the Seymour family fortune and step in as needed. Of course, the filings go on to say that Wanda will search for an appropriate custodian but it doesn’t say by when. It’s a good thing we were lawyered up.

  Two.

  That’s how many weeks we have before we face off against Wanda in court. With her court filings, we realize that we have two weeks to prepare not just in legal documents, but in the court of public opinion as well. If we don’t somehow get the gossip columns and tabloids, which have entered into this story with glee, on our sides, then something tells me that this case could bias itself against Eliza very quickly.

  Sixty.

  That’s how many minutes long of a press conference we’re planning on doing before the court appearance. It’s not really even my idea. Left to myself, I’d huddle with my lawyers and then go and hit something. It’s Eliza, in bed after a particularly athletic fuck, who comes out with the idea to hold a press conference.

  “Not just to counter Derek,” she says, scrunching up her face as she thinks, “But to tell our side of the story as well.”

  I can’t argue with that. She’s an intelligent girl and she knows what she’s doing. Even when sometimes it seems that I don’t. But I’ve actually never seen this in Eliza. There’s a passion inside of her. A determination to see this through. It’s heartening to see it, because I recognize it. It’s the same thing I found in myself to start and manage my own business.

  “What is it about this whole situation that’s changed you?” I ask, pulling her naked body close to me. “What about it affects you the most?”

  Eliza takes a long moment to think.

  I can feel every inch of her body against mine.
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  “I’m angry about the fact that someone is trying to blackmail the legacy left by my father,” she says at last and I bring my head closer to listen to her words as she’s talking so softly she might as well be whispering.

  “My father wanted his fortune to be left intact so that it could allow future generations of his family to give more of their time to help those less fortunate,” Eliza says, barely over a whisper. “I remember everyone saying that was his fondest wish. I remember when I read that in his will as well.”

  I’m silent. I never knew Eliza’s father personally. I wish, after the stories that Eliza has told me about him, that I had gotten the chance.

  “Wanda doesn’t want any of that,” Eliza confides in me. “She wants the money and if she gets her hands on it, there won‘t be anything stopping her from just using it on herself, not protecting any of it for the future. Nothing will be allocated to charity. Nothing will be saved for future generations. All of my father’s hard work will have been squandered in just a few years.”

  It’s a side of Eliza Seymour that the gossip columns and celebrity television shows don’t see. It’s a side of Eliza that the revolving cast of hosts in Good Day USA don’t see. I realize at that point it’s that side of her that first got me to fall in love with her.

  Three.

  That’s how many million dollars will be left to Eliza if we go along with Wanda’s proposal that arrives two days before the press conference. She’s proposing a settlement to avoid the court date. Give up control of all Seymour family assets and step down as custodian for the family and in return receive a lump sump payout of three million dollars.

  “I don’t know if I could live on three million dollars?” Eliza says with a smile. “That’s what they expect me to say, isn’t it? She’s trying to goad me to go out in front of the cameras and say that three million dollars is not enough? Does she think I don’t know that most people live on much much less than this?”

  Eliza is a different woman. She’s changed since I first met her when I married her stepmother. She’s grown up and become thoughtful and kind and compassionate. She’s beautiful and she still makes my cock hard, don't get me wrong. But she’s also demonstrated that she has a wonderful fucking soul.

  “We’re going to war in two days, baby girl,” I tell her, putting my arms around her. “This is just to throw you off your game.”

  Eliza looks at me. “I could live on nothing as long as I had you,” she says to me. I can see the love in her eyes. I hold her close.

  “You will always have me, Eliza Seymour,” I tell her.

  She nuzzles her face into my chest and we hold each other.

  But in the silence, it’s like we both know the thought hanging over our heads. How we might be happy together. But we’re not truly complete without a third.

  Five.

  That’s how many times I think that Derek has tried to reach me.

  Two calls to my home where I’ve seen his number, but he’s hung up before I’ve picked up. One email that was pulled back. And two times an appointment has been requested to my secretary when someone has hung up when she’s asked for the name.

  I know he’s trying to reach out. I know he’s trying to get in touch. But he’s not following through.

  Why?

  Normally, I would just go and dial Derek’s number, or show up at his office and demand to know what he’s up to.

  But something tells me that this time, there’s something else that he’s doing. That he’s asking me to trust him. To let him handle this on his own.

  There’s no secret what we’re doing. We’ve announced the press conference. And the entire city knows that Eliza is facing off in court against her wicked stepmother.

  That just means that despite the fact that Derek has bitten me in the past, I have to trust him.

  No rational person on paper would.

  In fact, I bet there’s a chance that you might even be rolling your eyes now at my feeling that I should trust him.

  But I’m telling you, there’s a deadly earnestness it seems in what he’s doing.

  He’s up to something.

  He knows what we’re up to.

  It’s now on him to carry out his plans to save the three of us.

  If he has any plans, that is.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Eliza

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be getting started in just a minute,” I say into the microphone as I look over the sea of faces of reporters and bystanders who are gazing at me.

  For the first time in my life, I’m hoping that I’ve dressed conservatively enough. I spent at least an hour looking at myself in the mirror, making sure that my ass wasn’t sticking out or that I wasn’t showing too much boob.

  Even then, Carter couldn’t help but sidle up behind me and take me in his big, strong hands. I remember feeling so safe.

  And then I felt his cock poke my ass.

  I remember rolling my eyes and taking off my skirt, trying to find another one.

  I mean, don’t you roll your eyes at me, okay? Your boyfriend getting a boner for you is a good thing normally, but not on days you’re trying to look serious.

  “Relax Eliza,” Carter said with a smile. “We’re going to do great.”

  And all of a sudden I knew he was right. His confidence was unshakeable. It actually made me feel stronger than I had all morning. It made me realize how much loved him.

  And how much I loved another.

  Now, the sea of faces is watching me and I’m trying to pick out if maybe Derek is among those people. Something in my heart is telling me that he’s close by. Although my brain is telling me to stop thinking such things and to focus on the moment. But I can’t help it, ya know? I can’t help thinking he’s going to pop out and this will all be over soon. Like a nightmare.

  But Derek doesn’t pop out. Someone else steps out. Someone I haven’t expected to be here and who sends chills up my spine.

  “Before the press conference gets started, I have a question as a member of the concerned public,” my stepmother, Wanda Seymour speaks up.

  Fuck. She’s staked out enough of a spot to stand in that she’s right in the middle of the crowd of reporters and they can’t help but hear her.

  “Ignore her, Eliza,” Carter says into my ear, putting his hand on the small of my back, steadying me. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  I nod. Wanda smiles at me with an evil tint, but I focus my eyes elsewhere. I can’t let her get to me.

  “I have a prepared statement to make, and then I’ll answer any and all questions that people may have,” I begin, putting an edge of steel into my voice.

  “I believe that Wanda, your stepmother had a point she was trying to make,” a reporter for the New York Daily Journal yells out. I sigh. I don’t know if the reporter is on her payroll or is simply looking for some drama. But whatever the reasoning, they’re not letting this go.

  But still I press on. I feel Carter’s comforting hand on the small of my back and it gives me hope to continue.

  “My father was a great man. He built many things in this city and this country that last to this day. In doing so, he amassed a sizable fortune for not just himself, but for his family as well,” I say and then look out. I pause, wondering how I’m going to get through this next bit. It’s going to be tough. “I would like to say that I’ve always been a good daughter. But, I haven’t.”

  I let the statement hang in the air before continuing. “I’ve been many times the opposite of a good daughter,” I say, before pausing again to take a breath. I knew this was going to be difficult.

  “I’ve said and done things that now, looking back on, I regret,” I say into the microphone. The reporters are looking at me. They’re scrutinizing whether I’m telling the truth and being genuine or just trying to pass off a fake game on them.

  I take a deep breath before I continue. “When I found out that my father was dead and I was a continent away, it broke my heart. Bu
t when I found out that he had authorized me to carry out his legacy, I felt a renewed sense of hope. That in this last deed, I’d be able to do something to redeem his years of trust, support and faith in me. That I would be able to show the world that I truly was my father’s daughter. But there is no way I would ever embezzle money through improper investments in such a manner. To do so would contravene every last one of the principles that he held dear and that I struggle to live up to daily. I wholeheartedly dispute any accusation from any party that I acted with full knowledge in a manner that was not in keeping with the standards that he set. I don’t care if it's a stranger on the street or Derek Stackford. It’s false.”

  The photographers start clicking as I stop because they can sense the profoundness of my statement.

  Could this really be it?

  Could I have put a stop to it all then and there.

  There’s silence.

  “Before you leave thinking maybe this is all over, I have a question,” I hear a voice and my heart falls. I look over to the voice and Wanda. “Maybe you’d like to explain then why you didn’t stop any progress on moving toward Red Lion Aviation?”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Or why Red Lion Aviation executives are able to swear under oath that they’ve been directed to wire the funds back to you once your father’s money hits the corporate accounts overseas,” Wanda continues.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  “You realize that despite your statement about wanting to be daddy’s little girl, you’ve committed tax evasion and fraud, right?” Wanda says. “You’ve abused your position as head of the foundation to enrich yourself.”