Page 2 of The Rival’s Obsession (The Black Ledger Billionaires #3)

“Has he been practicing?” I ask, eyes locked on Kris as I thumb the slick head of Sam’s cock. “Like a good boy?”

She smiles, breath already coming fast. “He has. Every night this week.”

“Mm,” I hum, pleased. “Good.”

Sam and Kris—they’re the real deal. A couple. Devoted to each other in their love.

The Ledger doesn’t usually allow emotional entanglements between Companions, but some pairs work so well, it’s worth bending the rules.

They know each other’s bodies like second nature.

And they know how to perform like fucking art.

Sam’s been training. Working on his stamina. Trying to edge himself, strengthen control, learn how to orgasm without release—just tension and pleasure rolled tight without the crash.

It’s impressive.

And useful in their line of work.

I stroke my cock tighter now, then guide it down between his cheeks, teasing his ass with the thick, leaking head.

He gasps against Kris’s pussy, and she lets out a shuddering breath, already close.

“I want you to focus, Sam,” I murmur, voice gravel and heat. “Here’s what’s going to happen . . .”

Kris begins to rock her hips—small, desperate motions. Riding his mouth like she needs it to breathe.

“You’re going to make her come,” I continue, watching the flush spread across her chest. “Then I’m going to fuck your ass. Deep. Hard.”

Sam’s throat vibrates with a moan. His fingers dig into her thighs.

“And when I do?” I grip his cock harder, fingers tightening. “You’re going to be a good boy and hold it. No coming. Not unless I say.”

Kris cries out, her hands flat on his chest as she grinds down harder.

He moans again, lost in her, and I fucking love it.

Because once she breaks, it’s his turn.

And I’m going to make sure he feels it.

Kris comes hard.

A shudder, a cry, her body trembling above him as she rides it out.

Then she climbs off, legs shaking slightly, her mouth curved in a satisfied smile.

My turn.

I settle fully between his spread thighs, placing a kiss on the inside of his knee.

He props his hips up on a folded pillow, just enough to tilt his pelvis and give me a better angle—he’s so fucking eager.

I slick my cock with lube—slow and deliberate. Watch his eyes follow every stroke.

Then I grip his thigh and press in.

His gasp is sharp—his chest rising with it.

I groan, low and guttural, as that tight heat stretches around me.

“Fuck, that’s good,” I mutter, my voice wrecked.

He clenches instinctively, and I still—one hand bracing on the mattress beside his head, the other firm on his thigh.

Our mouths drift together, not quite kissing yet, just close—breath mingling, heat radiating between us.

“So big,” he whispers, voice trembling but full of desire. “Fuck, you feel so good, Dante.”

I smile against his lips. “I know.”

I start to move—slow, steady thrusts as I let him feel the full length of me.

We kiss then. Hot, open-mouthed. Messy.

His moans feed mine.

“Just like that,” I murmur, lips brushing his. “Taking me so fucking well.”

His legs wrap tighter around me as I build him higher.

I keep moving, thrusting deeper with each pass, watching his face as he starts to lose himself in it.

“You close, baby?” I breathe against his ear.

He nods. Desperate. Sweating. Eyes blown wide with need.

“You gonna hold it for me?” I ask, voice darker now. “Gonna be a good boy and feel it all without making a mess?”

He nods again, breath hitching. “Yes—yes, I’ll try?—”

“That’s not good enough,” I growl, looking down at his hard cock pressed between us. “You will.”

I grip his hips and drag him closer—my other hand braced on the mattress, flanking his head now—as I drive into him hard.

Sucking on his full bottom lip, I nip him and tug.

His answer: unsatisfactory.

Each thrust forces a broken sound from his throat.

“Fucking gorgeous like this,” I grit out. “Laid out and begging. Mouth open, cock twitching, hole so fucking tight it’s like you’re made for me.”

He moans—loud, desperate.

“You don’t come,” I snarl, slamming into him harder. “Not till I say. You understand me?”

“Yes—Dante—yes?—”

“Good.”

My thrusts turn brutal. Controlled. Designed to destroy him in the best fucking way.

His eyes roll back, fingers digging into the sheets, and then?—

He crests.

“Hold it,” I growl, fucking him through it. “Squeeze. Don’t let it go.”

His body trembles violently beneath me, his lips parting in a ragged cry. His eyes flutter closed—just for a second.

“Eyes on me.”

His gaze snaps back to mine, glassy and wide, barely hanging on—but he’s doing it. He’s not ejaculating while he rides the waves of his pleasure.

Good boy.

I keep thrusting—deep and hard—grinding against that spot that has him gasping like he’s drowning in it.

And it keeps going.

Longer. Higher. The kind of orgasm that isn’t cut short by release but stretches out—sharp and shimmering—cresting again and again like waves dragging him under.

“That’s it,” I murmur, voice thick with praise and hunger. “Just like that. My good fucking boy.”

He moans louder, shaking now, and from across the room, Kris lets out a sharp whimper.

I glance over.

Her fingers are between her thighs—slick and glistening.

“Naughty girl,” I call out, not stopping my thrusts. “Coming without permission.”

She just moans in response, too wrecked by the scene to form words.

I slow my pace, easing Sam back down from the high. Letting him breathe again.

Every motion still deep. Still deliberate.

His hands clutch my arms like he needs the anchor.

I lower myself over him, our chests brushing.

His mouth finds mine again—hungry and grateful.

We kiss through the aftershocks—soft and deep this time.

And when I finally pull back—his lips swollen, eyes blown wide, chest heaving—I drag my knuckles down the side of his face and smirk.

“You were so fucking good for me,” I murmur against his mouth. “And you’re gonna take so much more tonight.”