by Kylie Scott
“Old,” Dan snorted, shook his head. “And it doesn’t make it any less fun.”
“True.” Finn’s hand moved back beneath her butt and hoisted her upward, angled her pelvis higher so he was rubbing her still-sensitive clit. She didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer. But she clamped her thighs around him tight on the off-chance he had any intention of trying to escape. “But nowhere near as much fun as this.”
Dan shifted closer, got within whispering range. “That’s my girl. Does it feel good, having his cock inside you?”
She nodded, beyond words.
It was dirty, decadent, to have Dan whispering in her ear with Finn above her and inside her. They had never all been in the bed at the same time for anything other than sleep. By some unspoken agreement, one of them had always made himself scarce during intimate moments. They had shared her fairly, equally, and apparently by common consensus.
Having the both of them present was a whole new thing. Everywhere it counted, she loved it. Her head, her heart and every inch of her body craved it.
Her pussy contracted around Finn’s cock, making him groan and grin at Dan. “Man, keep going. Keep talking to her. She loves it.”
She might have suffered some embarrassment if she hadn’t been otherwise occupied.
Dan, of course, took up the invitation with a squeeze of her hand. “You do love it, don’t you? Having both of us here in bed with you?”
Her mouth fell open but nothing that made any sense came out.
“We weren’t sure it was what you wanted,” Dan informed her. “But then, you can be a very dirty girl sometimes.”
Another shaky nod.
He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed her fingers, stopped and sucked at the tip of one. “I can’t wait to be inside you.” He moved up the bed, placed her open hand over the hard length of his cock. Curved her fingers around him. The feel of his hot bare skin was enough to make her lick her lips in want. Wanting to pleasure him. To please him. “That’s it,” Dan said.
Suddenly Finn pulled out of her, sat back on his haunches. She wanted to kill something at the loss but wasn’t given a chance.
His hands reached beneath her arms, turning her before her sex-addled mind could work out quite what he was up to. “Finn?”
“Ass up, Al.” Hands pulled her hips into place, and she set her elbows beneath her. “You want him in your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Dan moved into position in front of her. Those muscular thighs, dusted in dark hair, the flat planes of his stomach. Not to forget his penis. Thick and full, the tip weeping salty pre-cum. “Babe?”
“Please,” was all she could say.
Dan’s fingers rubbed at her scalp. “Best idea ever.”
“I hate to see a grown man cry.” Finn slid back into her, his body bumping against her ass with each thrust, hands tracing over her spine.
Dan’s chuckle ended on a groan as she curled her tongue around his cockhead, drawing him into her mouth. He fed his cock to her slowly, one hand threaded in her still-damp hair. Eagerly she took him in. The taste and feel of him against her tongue like a drug.
She wanted to reduce him to the same mindless mess they made her.
There were the dual sensations of Daniel in her mouth and Finn in her pussy. Splitting her focus. It made her giddy, so much at once. Her body and brain couldn’t keep up. Fuck drunk was exactly the word for it. So she let go, let it happen.
Finn thrust into her steadily but slowly, as if wary of the cock filling her mouth. All she could do was feel, caught between the two of them and loving every minute of it.
This was her reward for surviving. For not giving in somewhere along the way when it would have been so easy.
She gasped around Dan’s cock as Finn picked up the pace, filling her harder, faster. The scent of sex and the salt of their sweat filled the air. A heady concoction.
She didn’t want it to end. Never wanted to let either of them go. Never would.
They were hers. She was theirs. Screw the rest, it could see to itself.
Daniel pulled out of her mouth as Finn finished.
“Al.” Her name was an agonized plea on his lips as he came.
The nicest thing she had ever heard. Apart from when they said they loved her.
Finn’s fingers pressed into her waist and he ground himself against her. With nothing between them it was hot and sticky and perfect completion. She never wanted anything between them ever again. Everything was just right, from the heat of him at her back to the fumbling hands stroking her sides as he caught his breath. Sweat dripped off him and onto her, sliding over her skin and soaking into the sheets in the warm room.
She didn’t want to forget a single detail. Wanted it all seared in her memory like the precious gift that it was.
Finn’s cock eased out of her and the mattress sunk as he shifted to kneel behind her. Not leaving the bed like she had first thought, but staying with them, as the palm smoothing over her rear attested to. Another hand snaked between her legs, fingers stroking, teasing her wet cunt. Working her up again till she didn’t know her own name.
Before her Dan held still, waiting out the moment, fisting his cock in one hand. The musky scent of him was tantalizingly close. “Remember me?”
“Very well.”
Daniel’s cockhead bumped against her lips, and she opened to him, taking him in just far enough to work the sensitive underside with the flat of her tongue. His size didn’t allow for much more.
One hand cradled her jaw, the other wrapped around the base of his cock. It was a powerful thing, the giving of pleasure. If it hadn’t been for the clever fingers choosing to deliver a soft pinch to her clit, she would have been quite smug over it. Her insides clenched.
One of Finn’s fingers tickled over her ass, his teeth … His finger. The tip pushed, gently, slowly gaining admission. The slight pressure felt strange, but not uncomfortable. Little-used nerve endings came alive.
“Is he playing with your ass?” asked Daniel, hand stroking her jaw.
She couldn’t have answered with his cock in her mouth had she anything to say.
“The shame of him.”
Finn’s teeth grazed the curve of an ass cheek, the low chuckle teasing across her skin. His finger slid into her, eased back while his other hand strummed her clit. It lit up her spine, the insane heat coiling in her belly. She might not last much longer, but Dan was going first.
Harsh, guttural sounds praised the greedy pulls of her mouth. He didn’t even try to hold back from her.
His cock jerked against her tongue, hot liquid filling her mouth as she swallowed as fast as she could.
The fingers playing over her swollen cunt intensified. The finger in her rear stroked still. Everything inside her tightened, coalesced, and expanded in a sudden burst of heat.
Daniel withdrew from her mouth and dropped to his knees in front of her, watching her. His blue eyes never left hers, holding her gaze. Good God. Her elbows trembled. Everything quaked. It went on and on.
Finn gave her back a parting kiss, climbed off the mattress, headed for the bathroom. Dan’s arms wrapped around her, drew her down onto the mattress.
An almighty yawn took her as she settled against him. Body blissed out and mind blessedly quiet.
“We boring you?” Finn lay down beside her on the mussed sheets.
She shook her head. Would have expounded on that answer, but sleep had already taken her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Finn sat at the table, watching Ali sleep. It was evening, he had been up and dressed for hours, but she slept on. The book in his hand kept him occupied. It was … interesting, to say the least. It gave him a greater appreciation for her concerns.
“Hey,” she murmured. Al blinked sleepy eyes at him and then the room, taking in the dark, the lantern beside him on the table. “What time is it?”
“Nearly eight. You slept all day.”
The red stain on her cheek had paled. The dark circles beneath her eyes had lessened. Sleep had done her good, despite the odd disturbance.
Several times she had stirred from nightmares, lulled back to sleep by him or Dan or both. One of them kept his eyes on her every second, taking turns watching. Eventually their agreement to haunt her every step would earn a negative reaction, but not yet.
He found he liked being needed by her. He liked it a lot.
“What are you reading?”
Finn held the book cover high for her inspection. “Are you aware contractions are like warm waves caressing you?”
She screwed her nose up at him. “Sounds like some fantastic bullshit, Finn.”
“Attitude’s important, Al. The book said so,” Finn chided, dropping the baby manual on the table. They’d avoided those concerns of hers because, truth be told, he hadn’t known what to say. Information had been required.
He rose from the chair and slunk over to the bed as she watched, all wary eyed. The frown eased some as he sat beside her on the mattress, leant in to press his lips against hers. “Wonder what a baby of ours would look like?”
“Beautiful, I guess … You’re both beautiful.” Her eyes dropped, hesitating, but then she kissed him back, sweet, soft kisses easing him. Al was safe, secure. He needed the physical proof. They were both worriers in their own way. “Would it bother you if this imaginary baby looked like Daniel?”
It wasn’t like it hadn’t occurred to him. He kissed her some more before answering.
“No. You’re mine, and I want a part of any baby that’s yours.” He opened his mouth wider, incited her to do likewise. Her tongue stroked over his in welcome, the touch light, thrilling. Behind his zipper his cock stirred, the electric hum of arousal spreading through him. “We’re family, Al, the three of us.” Finn hooked a finger over the sheet she was holding against her breasts, lowered it. “They said some interesting things about the sensitivity of nipples during pregnancy.”
“Did they?”
“Hmm.” Finn traced over the line of her collarbone, tried to ignore the twitching in his pants. Touching her didn’t help, but the low rumble of her stomach did. “You need to eat before anything else.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?”
He smiled. “No. It’s closer to, ‘I have some fresh fruit and half-stale cereal for you.’ You have such a lewd mind.”
“You like it,” she said.
“I love it.” Finn breathed in deep: sex and soap and antiseptic lotion. Plus the special something, solely her.
“Where’s Dan?”
“Helping Sam fix a generator. Shouldn’t be long.” He climbed off the bed. One of them needed to before things got out of hand. She really should eat.
Al wandered off to the bathroom as he set the table, poured juice into a glass, cereal into a bowl. Everything was ready and waiting when she emerged a few minutes later dressed in the usual jeans and t-shirt, her hair tied back and face damp from washing. He welcomed the normalcy of routine. They could live like this no problem. Mostly petty jealous bullshit had fueled the recent fighting. A near-death experience tended to clear up communication issues pretty damn fast. Or maybe it reshuffled priorities back into their pertinent order.
Finn smiled at her, and she smiled back.
The guy from the supply runs appeared at the top of the stairs. The one who had collected their weapons the day they arrived.
Finn hesitated, surprised, certain Dan would have locked the door. Owen. That was his name. And the first thing that came to mind was that something had happened to Dan. This guy was bringing the news.
“What…” Finn stepped forward, and the guy raised his hand. There was a gun in it. Owen’s eyes were empty and his mouth set. Owen, not Andy, and the gun had a silencer attached. Owen was working with Andy. They wanted to hurt her. His heart beat frantically.
Fuck.
“Al!” A muffled crack, followed by the impact of the bullet. It sent Finn stumbling back and a world of pain ensued. A universe of it.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Ali watched Finn stumble, fall. Her head spun sickeningly. There was so much blood.
She scrambled forward as Owen barked something, waved the gun at her. It was all peripheral, unreal. She couldn’t make out the words. Her brain wouldn’t accommodate them.
She had to reach Finn. Had to.
His closed eyes and ashen face tore at her. He looked like he’d been tossed aside by an uncaring hand, lying slumped against the brick wall, blood seeping from his chest. The front of his t-shirt slowly soaked it up. He might have only been asleep if it weren’t for all the blood.
She moved jerkily forward and Owen’s hand closed around her wrist. He gripped tight enough to grind her bones together, to drag her to a halt. He twisted her arm up behind her back. It should have hurt, but she had gone numb.
Finn.
He pushed the barrel of the gun beneath her ribs. She saw it, but she didn’t feel it. It made her wonder if the punch of a bullet would hurt, wake her up.
“Let’s go,” Owen said. “Cooperate or I go find your other boyfriend and shoot him too. Move.”
Her jaw flapped but no sound came out.
Owen strong-armed her toward the stairs, down them, the gun shoved beneath her ribs the entire time. He was strong and handled her easily.
She had to get back to Finn. Had. To. Had to stop this before Dan came strolling in and the prick shot him too. Owen needed to die before this nightmare worsened. He would die whatever it took.
Owen pulled her along, keeping her close, keeping up the grip on the gun and her wrist. If he had been behind her on the stairs, it wouldn’t have worked. Halfway down the stairs, she threw her half-formed plan into action. With a strangled scream, Ali smashed herself into Owen. She threw all of her weight against him.
Surprised and caught off balance, he toppled to his knees. Gravity took over.
She had hoped he would let go. He did, but only of the gun. It bumped its way down the steps ahead of them.
Next came the tearing and the pop of her arm being wrenched from its socket. A blaze of white pain shattered her like a bolt of lightning, shearing her in two. She knew her shoulder was dislocated. No more numb. Oh fuck did she feel it.
They both fell, tumbling down the stairs to land one on top of the other. Owen grunted and shoved her aside, setting off all the pain receptors in her body once more. Black pinpricks danced and the world swam, murky and bright. Her breathing came in agonizing puffs. Every bit between her top and toes felt broken. When her vision cleared she stared down the barrel of the gun, her arm limp at her side.
Owen kicked out, caught her in the leg. He even sneered for good measure. Or he tried to. There was a bruise blossoming on his jaw, bloody drool on his chin. He was a mess. She wasn’t much better. Her shoulder drowned out all other sensation.
“Fucking thtupid bitch.”
She blinked, again and again. Poor Owen had apparently bitten his tongue.
She lost it. A manic giggle frothed up. It came out as a gasping groan of a noise.
The prick’s face turned pink.
“Up. Move.” Blood bubbled on his lips. He grabbed the front of her shirt, wrestled her back up onto her feet. Whatever damage she’d done him, he still had her in strength. “Move!”
Owen dragged her, limping and swaying, to a vehicle parked out front of the building. It was one of the pick-ups used for supply runs, nothing anyone would notice. The night was deadly quiet, the street empty. Dinnertime, everyone was busy. There was no one nearby to hear them.
“Don’t make me thoot any more people,” Owen hissed in her ear, hustling her into the passenger side of the pickup. He flicked on the child lock and slammed the door closed in her face.
She had to get back to Finn.
Ali nursed her injured arm, breathing through gritted teeth as the pain ebbed and flowed. In and out, in a
nd out, in time with her heartbeat.
Oh, God. Finn. He had to be alright. He couldn’t die. She had to escape. Get back to him. Stop the bleeding.
The truck’s interior stank of old cigarette smoke. She peered out through the dirty windscreen, hoping for rescue so she could get someone to save Finn. Not many lights out there. A few of the empty steel storage drums dotted up the sidewalk, the tips of flames dancing over the steel rim, smoke winding up into the night air.
No one knew to help Finn. He was still up there, bleeding and alone. There had been a silencer on the gun but still, someone had to have heard something. She didn’t want to think of him dying, but there it sat, front and center. No chance she was going to give in and cry in front of the prick, though her eyes watered. Her trembling sent pain lancing through her. Fuck but it hurt. Her breath stuttered and she held in a groan.
Owen climbed into the driver’s seat, a gruesome trail of slobber dripping down his chin. It hung, suspended, catching the light from the nearest fire before falling to his lap.
The drive was short. Blackstone wasn’t big. Neither spoke. Owen drove with the gun still in hand, braced against the steering wheel. He darted looks at her every other second, waiting on her next great escape attempt, no doubt.
What the hell could she do?
They made slow, steady progress through the streets. No point in making a grab for the wheel, he could easily overpower her. Besides, she only had one hand at her disposal and it wasn’t her right, which was a bitch. Another opportunity would present itself and she’d grab it when it did. Rage and pain roiled through her.
They passed a group of people standing on a street corner. Several raised their hands and Owen nodded back, lowering the gun from view.
“Don’t move,” he muttered as they rolled past the scene.
The church spire came into view, the solid old brick building set with panels of colored glass. It was too dark to make out what stories they told. A trio of massive pine trees circled the place, standing guard. They made it even darker.
Owen pulled into the churchyard. Her teeth clattered as they covered the uneven ground. She clung onto her wounded wing, doing her best not to pass out. She needed to be coherent to kill the fucker and get back to Finn.
