We lay there afterwards, me on my back, Lily snuggled up to my side, both of us naked.“Now that was a hell of a homecoming,” I said.“Mmm… yeah, I liked it, too.”“You sure know how to put the ‘coming’ into ‘homecoming,’ alright.”She groaned and laughed at the same time. “Oh my God, that was such a bad joke.”“Really? I liked it.”“You would. It’s like that line you used on me in Vegas… the one about the dress and ‘becoming’ – ”“That dress looks very becoming on you,” I recited. “And if I were that dress, I’d be coming, too.”She burst into laughter. “That’s the one. You like your little jokes with the word ‘coming’ in them.”“Well, I like coming.”“Mmmm… so do I,” she purred, softly caressing my cock with one finger.“Hey now,” I warned. “You do any more of that, and we’re going again.”“Can’t do that. Dinner’s really soon.”“Then you better stop turning me on.”“Really?” she asked, acting all doe-eyed and biting her lip on purpose.“Woman,” I said, grabbing her underneath her bod

After dinner, Anh went to take a nap (that girl can not handle her alcohol, even a couple glasses of wine), and Johnny and Connor retired to the ‘dojo’ on the floor below the penthouse. Ever since the assassination attempt last year, Connor has been obsessed with my safety. He still blames himself for endangering me, which is ridiculous; Connor risked his own life to keep me safe. I think what it really is, is that he felt exposed and at the mercy of the hitman, and he never wants to feel that way again. Anyway, he’s got some kind of a macho stick up his butt about it, so he dragooned Johnny into being his Mr. Miyagi. Every night Connor’s in Manhattan, he makes Johnny teach him a bunch of ninjutsu and Special Forces stuff. I’m not kidding. We’re talking hand-to-hand combat, guns, knives. There’s a private, sound-proofed gun range two floors down where they shoot pistols and assault rifles. In the Olympic-sized pool next to the gun range, Connor got certified in scuba. Just in case.

First he kissed my neck, moving slowly from my shoulder all the way up to my earlobe.At the same time, he unclasped my strapless bra and let it fall to the floor.He began to caress my breasts, gliding his palms over my soft skin, gently pushing them together, then cupping them from beneath. He tweaked my nipples and at the same time bit my neck, two mild flashes of pain that added up to a greater pleasure.I held my head to the side and closed my eyes, just letting the waves of desire roll over me.He began to squeeze my ass, massaging it firmly. As he did, I could feel his cock pressing against one of my cheeks. It was hard and upright beneath the cloth of his pants, and every so often would spasm, like he was having a tiny contraction – an involuntary spasm that told me he wanted to be inside me so bad.Suddenly he pressed one powerful hand between my shoulder blades, forcing me down on the bed, but with my ass still in the air. Bent over at a 90 degree angle, I braced myself with

Miranda glided across the ballroom like Maleficent in the christening scene in Sleeping Beauty – albeit more like Angelina Jolie’s version than the greenish-hued harpy in the animated film.She was dressed to kill, in a white designer dress that managed to be both elegant and reserved while showing enough of her curves to make men drool and women (including me) despise her.She was on the arm of her new husband. Or maybe a more accurate way to put it was he was hanging onto her arm, because she definitely eclipsed him in beauty, class, and sociopathic poise.The last time I had seen Vincent Templeton, he looked like a slightly shorter, less attractive version of Connor. Light brown hair instead of black; puffy features; a few extra pounds. Now he was even more bloated, like he’d been hitting the scotch in excess. It didn’t affect the arrogant sneer on his face, though. That was the one area where he excelled over Miranda: the sheer snottiness of his expression.At the same moment I sa

We went into dinner immediately. I’d planned it that way; I figured the less time we had to make small talk, and the sooner we got around to putting food in our mouths, the less time there was for potential disaster.“It’s nice to have you here,” I told Mr. Templeton as we sat down.“Thank you for the invitation.”“I hope it didn’t cause any… friction.”I wondered if he would know what I meant, since I didn’t want to spell it out.He knew exactly what I meant. “As it so happens, Vincent, Miranda, and my wife are out of town.”Connor raised his glass and toasted mischievously, “To things working out for the best.”I glared at him. Behave.He just gave me a punk-ass, mischievous little smile in return.I sighed and turned my attention back to Connor’s father. We chatted a little about inconsequential things as Marta, our maid, brought in the first course.Mr. Templeton didn’t even acknowledge her, though.“Thank you, Marta,” I said, annoyed by his rudeness.“Yes, thanks, Marta,” Connor