Free Blood Brothers: A Dark BBW Dom Billionaire Stepbrother Menage Serial (Stepbrother Billionaire Games Book 2) by Bethany Walker Page B

to throw myself across the limousine to show him with mouth and tongue exactly what I desire.
    This isn’t about my desires, though. This is about his desires.
    So I sit. I don’t move. I don’t talk.
    Neither does he.
    ***
    Galen
    They have the store shut down before we arrive.
    I don’t shop anywhere that will not cater to my every need, and one of those needs is privacy. I can close down entire shopping malls with a single phone call. I earn more money while I’m sleeping than these stores earn in a year, and they know it. They know I can pay their salaries as easily as most people tip a buck for pizza delivery.
    So if I want stores closed, they’re closed.
    If I want the limousine to be allowed to drive up to the back door, weaving through the fence and stopping on concrete, then I’m allowed to drive there.
    And if I want to fuck my new toy in their store, I’m going to fuck my new toy in their store.
    The eager shopping mall staff rings the limousine with tape and guards.
    Word has somehow gotten out that I’m going shopping today. The press is already here, hoping to get a glimpse of me out in public. Every since the last game I played with Braden—a game which ended up with my name on one of the finest hotels in Dubai—new photographs of us have been selling for sums of money I’m sure that these maggots consider to be ridiculous.
    They won’t get pictures of me. Not today. I might indulge them normally, but I don’t want anyone to spot my new pet. My new little fucktoy.
    Eliza’s eyes are wide, terrified, as she watches the store’s security section off the limo’s space. Their bodies press against the windows to guard us. One of them is waiting with a jacket to drape over her, concealing her face from the international media.
    “I thought we were just going shopping,” she says.
    “We are,” I tell her.
    The door opens. The perfect soundproofing on our limousine breaks.
    Voices shout, cameras click, flash bulbs flare.
    “Blood! Blood!”
    “Over here, Galen!”
    They’re trying to hold the cameras high enough to see over the guards. They won’t succeed in taking photos. My guards are better than that. I trust them to protect me, as they always do.
    Still, I’m grateful when Eliza is engulfed in the jacket, escorted through a narrow pathway of protective bodies to enter the store.
    I’m just behind them.
    All those voices bounce off of me. They don’t penetrate my shield, much less my consciousness. None of those voices matter to me.
    I’m watching what little I can see of Eliza through the protective armor of my guards. Her slender calves are marked by a seam down the back from the stockings that she wears. The dress is cut narrow around her hips and a little too loose around her waist.
    The woman’s curves are ridiculous. Impossible. There shouldn’t be a woman with a body like this.
    I can’t keep my hands off of her. Even now, I feel like I’m drawn to her by the force of gravity rather than by anything biological. I have to touch her. I have to be with her, to mound those curves in my hands, to squeeze her hips.
    She tastes so good, her womanhood still lingers on my lips hours after I last plunged my head between her legs. The feeling of her pulse on my tongue from her femoral artery is something that I’ll never forget, even if I never went down on her again.
    That’s not going to happen, of course. I’m going to fuck this woman a hundred more times. A thousand times.
    She’s going to ride my face and suck my cock and I’m going to get to know every single inch of that slut’s filthy, perfect body.
    For now, we’re going shopping.
    A voice breaks through all the others, louder than the other reporters’.
    “How do you respond to rumors that your brother was targeted by a foreign nation?”
    That last question cuts through me.
    I stop walking. I turn around.
    My eyes fall on the person who asked.
    He somehow broke through the line of guards. He’s got scraggly brown