He convulsed into his lover. Laura wanted more; she demanded more. “Keep fucking me you no good bastard. Don’t you dare go soft, I need more. Fuck...me more.” No exhortation stiffened Greg’s wilting cock. He finally used his fingers to give his lover a small measure of satisfaction. They lay together quietly recovering strength until Laura ripped the pantyhose from her legs. “Never again, that was a good idea gone bad; never again.” “I don’t care how you fuck me, soft or hard, slow or fast. We. We have the entire top floor prepared for your group. Your father, Marshal Eli Crow, and your brother, Mr. Jon David Crow, have instructed us to spare no cost and no effort to make your stay most memorable with us here at Los Hotel de Cuervo–New Orleans,” the man said and marched ahead of them to the feisty, fast music being played by the brass band following them.The entire top floor was actually four large connecting suites. Each of the suites had private sleeping accommodations for three. More

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