She reached over and brushed strands of dark blond hair from his forehead. “To take a pee. My teeth are floating.”
They shared a quiet giggle. Around them, some other people began to wake up and mill about. But, all in all, the suite’s occupants still slumbered in post-orgy repose.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, letting the sheet slide off his lap as he stood. “I could really use a shower after last night.”
Thoughts of last night made Sally smile. Things had started out tame enough. She and Mickie—Shane and Hunter’s step sister, who was staying with them at their father’s mansion—had gone to Decadent & Deadly’s concert. Shane was the drummer in this up and coming rock band, and he and Sally had recently hooked up in his dressing room, but she wasn’t expecting an encore like she’d gotten.
After she and Shane parted ways with Hunter and Mickie, Shane had taken her to an all out orgy at the Chateau Saint John. Much of the night was a blur, but she did remember dancing with a masked woman around a phallic ice sculpture, and engaging in a threesome with said woman, Shane, and said ice sculpture.
After she flushed the toilet, Shane locked the bathroom door and waited a moment to pull down the detachable shower head then adjust the water. He stepped in the rounded tub and grinned at her, while the hot spray jetted over his hand.
“Just the two of us this time,” he said, taking the hand from beneath the spray and holding it out to her.
She felt herself blush and warm from head to toe. Dear god, she couldn’t fall in love with this bad boy rock star any more than she already had, but he was making it damn hard not to!
She decided to show him her naughty side yet again. “Let’s leave it unlocked.” She walked to the door and did just that before she joined him. “See what fate brings our way.”
He took her hand and she stepped in the pearly white tub. Shane pulled the sheer plastic shower curtain closed then pulled her in his arms.
She squirmed in his embrace when he swept a warm spray of water up her spine. The detachable shower head sent out massaging, liquid needles that shocked her skin at first, but now she relaxed as the high pressure flow pelted her ass.
He kissed her soundly before he turned her so his slippery chest and abs molded to her water slicked back. Then his tongue flit into the shell of her ear briefly before he tugged on the lobe with his teeth. While he nipped and licked his way down her neck, he teased her nipples with the tingling spray. He’d bring the showerhead close to her breasts, swirling circles of jetting fluid over the soft, sensitive skin. He brushed it up and down, back and forth, over her nipples, like he was a painter loving her body with his paintbrush. Her nipples throbbed and ached from the stimulation.
The tiny waterfall skimmed between her ribs, smoothed over her stomach, and finally tickled her clit with its insistent vibration. Her lover nudged a knee between her legs, spreading them wider. She tilted her pelvis forward, so the spray could hit her sex more directly. A gasp that bordered on a moan escaped her when he pulled her clit hood back and the water assailed this sensitive bead of flesh.
He swept the stream up and down her wet slit, swirled circles over her clit, like he was once more painting her with desire and bliss. She moaned loudly now as stimuli, pleasure, rocketed through her, making her limbs feel weak. She had to lean into her lover so she wouldn’t fall to her knees.
She reached back and wrapped an arm around his neck and he dipped his head toward hers. His tongue slid across her bottom lip, tasting it thoroughly before it slithered into her mouth once more and teased her own tongue into submission. Now the assault of pleasure made her close her eyes and mewl into his kiss.
His free hand slinked down her stomach and soon fingers teased her in time with the water. She clutched at the back of his neck, gave breathy gasps as climax drew closer. Just as she came all over his fingers, pussy juices mingling with the water trickling down her thighs, the bathroom door clicked open.
They barely heard it, but she noticed a shadow falling across the translucent shower curtain. She licked her lover’s ear before she whispered, “Someone’s joining us.”
The shower curtain slid open slowly. The slender metal rings holding it to the rod made a soft ting.
Dark eyes peered in at them. A sly smile spread across a face bristly with day old stubble. The Italian Stallion, as the bass player of Decadent and Deadly was known, scratched at his goatee and asked, “Is there room for one more in there?”
She glanced back at her wet lover and his eyes seemed to give silent approval. He left the decision up to her. She turned to the dark haired man, who resembled a pirate on a romance novel. Holding out a hand to him, she said, “There is.”
The Italian Stallion was hairier than her current lover, and she ran her fingers through the dark, thick curls that peppered his toned chest and stomach. It tapered into a treasure trail just below his belly button. Then a dark nest of fur covered his scrotum. His purple headed cock jutted fully erect from within this thatch. Its shining glans glistened with a trickle of pre-cum that was washed away when the stinging spray hit it.
The lover behind her gave the handheld shower to their new companion, then he reached for some golden hued bath gel hanging from a rack. Sandalwood mixed with rose oil tickled her nostrils with an earthy, full bodied perfume. She sighed and let her eyes flutter shut as he rubbed the gel into her shoulders. Moving lower, he kneaded her muscles while he soaped up her back. The last of her knots and tension melted away.
Her dark haired lover knelt and nudged her clit hood away from the sensitive flesh beneath. He held the showerhead close, letting the insistent stream pelt her clitoris. She gasped and let out a yelp at the shock of the water’s return. While he held the stream so it steadily beat on this nub of nerves and sensation, he spread her labia and dipped his head so he could lick the length of her slit. She felt her juices gushing as she came hard between her two lovers.
But they weren’t done with her yet. The lover behind her also kneeled now, and he lathered up her apple-shaped bottom with more luxuriant gel. He spread her ass cheeks and licked her crack, poking his hot tongue inside her anus, while the man at her front continued to nibble and lick her clit.
Her legs trembled from the force of her first orgasm. Now they shimmied and shook as another began to quickly build. The assault of bliss was enough to make her eyes roll back in her head.
The lover behind her now spread slippery gel up and down her crack. He slipped soapy fingers in her rectum and lubed her up, then he passed the gel to the lothario kneeling before her. He squirted more fragrant gel into his palm and took his time soaping up her pussy. He rolled her clit between a slick finger and thumb until she nearly climaxed again.
Briefly, her dark pirate lover left the shower. He returned with two silver foil packages, handing one to his friend behind her. Moments later, the dark haired lover hooked his arms beneath her legs as he stood. He held her thighs level with his hips as he plunged all eight inches of his cock into her twitching pussy. She let out a long, loud groan of satisfaction as its bulbous head stroked her g-spot perfectly.
The lover behind her cradled her ass and spread her cheeks wide with his fingers. His slick shaft caressed the length of her crack before he eased its impressive girth into her tight anus. She gripped him hard, just like she gripped the cock thrusting in and out her pussy. Her body became a writhing mass of ecstasy as he thumped her g-spot from the back while his companion pummeled and caressed it from the front.
It didn’t take long for the second orgasm to explode inside of her. She felt like a radiant fireworks display as bliss rained over her and throughout her. Her skin was electric ecstasy. Her pussy throbbed deep with satisfaction.
Once they were done fucking, they cleaned up with what remained of the hot water, got dressed, and slipped from the bathroom to find a growing line of impatient party people waiting for the toilet. Sally murmured apologies while Shane just smirked sheepishly and Nathan walked back to the bed, l
ooking for a new lover.
She and Shane slipped out of the hotel suite and grabbed a taxi home. She hoped Hunter and Mickie weren’t too worried about them. When they did get back to the mansion, she planned on cramming in a couple more hours of shut eye. She was tired from her all night sex marathon, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.
She and Shane noticed the signs of a scuffle as they were walking up the driveway. Sally’s pace slowed when she spotted one of Mickie’s shoes, a light blue Skechers sneaker, in a bush at the side of the house. They found a small patch of blood on the steps leading up to the front door.
“What happened here?” Shane bent down to touch the blood.
“Don’t touch it!” Sally stopped him. “It’s evidence,” she explained, when he gave her a puzzled frown. Acid churned in her stomach and she felt sick. She had a hunch what had happened here. “Come on. We need to go talk to Chief Pritchard, now.”
And she headed toward the garage with Shane by her side. As they went, she explained more about Trent Farrow, her no good ex, and just exactly what he was caught up in. She confessed she and Hunter had been investigating him secretly, and when he found out he cleaned up the evidence—a stash of cocaine he’d been keeping in a house he’d bought without her knowing. Shane just listened intently as she let it all flow out of her. She was terrified to trust him with such dangerous information, to trust anyone these days, but now she had no choice left. And Hunter was his twin. Mickie was his step sister. To help her help them, he needed to be adequately informed, and protocol or her suspension from the force be damned.
Because if her hunch was right, Mickie and Hunter’s lives were in great danger.
***
“Hunter,” Mickie said, as her sock-clad toe landed on something that felt like the handle of her purse. “I think we need to level with each other.”
She hooked her big toe through the handle, cursing the near darkness that denied her a good look at what she had a toe-hold on.
“Who goes first?” Hunter asked, still sounding groggy.
Mickie sighed. This was a poor time for playing games or being stubborn. She got all five toes under the purse handle. Her feet, she had discovered earlier, were also bound at the ankles. The purse slipped down between her feet as she shimmied and butt-walked forward a bit. Then she lifted her bound legs in the air, using the momentum of the move to hurl the purse into her lap.
After it landed, she said, “Fine. I’ll go first. Then you have to help me open this purse.”
“I can’t even see!” Hunter protested.
“It’s in my lap. And inside is a pocketknife. It’s wicked sharp, and if we can get it out we can cut these ropes.”
“Weren’t we gonna level with each other first?” Hunter said, his arm brushing against hers as he moved closer. His shoulder brushed over her breast as he blindly groped, with tied hands, for the purse in her lap.
“All right.” She tried to ignore the way his searching fingers stroked so close to her pussy. This was no time to be thinking of sex! “I was working undercover as Chief Pritchard’s secretary because he’d given my boss permission to let me be the leading reporter on a cocaine trafficking ring I was investigating. I had to run all my stories by your chief first for approval before I could submit anything to my editor in chief.”
“Seems weird the chief would let you do that,” Hunter said. “He’s not exactly a fan of most reporters, and he’s usually pretty tight lipped about high risk cases.”
“Well, my boss claims he saved the chief’s life one time, and now he has a major in with him.” She almost gasped when his bound fingers pressed into her clit through her clothes.
They moved lower, brushing down her thighs. He let out a triumphant “Got it!” when his fingers closed around the purse. She heard a snick as he popped its latch open. Junk in her purse jangled and jingled, then a moment later Hunter said, “I think this is it.”
She butt-walked and shimmied over the floor until she felt Hunter’s hands brush against hers. It was so hard to see in the murk that touch was the only way to tell they were now back to back.
“Okay, start sawing and talking,” she told him as she wedged her bound wrists closer to the knife.
His fingers moved slowly as he tried to manipulate the blade with little mobility. “How do you expect me to confess and saw at the same time?”
“You’re a talented man. I’m sure you’ll manage.”
He breathed deeply behind her, took a moment to speak, and then, “The guy who kidnapped us? He’s one of the crooked cops involved in the cocaine ring you’ve been investigating. Sally and I have been investigating him for a while, unofficially. He’s the no good ex Sally told you about. Anyway… we’re not sure how many cops are in on this trafficking deal. Chief Pritchard suspended me and Sally when we fucked up our unofficial investigation. And that’s all you’re getting.”
Finally her wrists were free. The thick rope fell away and she took the pocketknife from Hunter. She flexed her fingers as she turned so she could cut him free. Then they sawed through the rope at their ankles before Mickie found her purse once more to retrieve a small flashlight. Unfortunately, the bare bulb hanging in the shack refused to work for them, so this was their only alternative light source.
“What don’t you keep in your purse?” Hunter quipped.
“My purse doubles as a first aid and emergency kit,” she told him. “You never know when you’re gonna need a flashlight or a pocketknife.”
He chuckled in the darkness. “Ever practical Mickie. That’s why I like you, sis.”
Her hand wrapped around the small flashlight. She wasted no time freeing it and flicking it on.
A tiny spotlight illuminated their surroundings, which she and Hunter quickly assessed. The door looked flimsy, and a scant slice of light filtered through where the wood had shrunk away from the jambs.
Hunter curled a hand around her arm. “A good shoulder hit could probably bring it down. Hold the light steady for me.”
He got to his feet and backed up so he could gain more momentum. Then he sprinted toward the door and planted his shoulder in the wood. It groaned and gave a loud crack.
He backed up farther and tried a second time. This time he hurt his shoulder, but a thick wedge of wood splintered and fell from the door. Sunlight streamed in and Mickie blinked as she adjusted to the brightness.
She put her pocketknife and flashlight back in her purse, stood, and walked over to inspect the door with Hunter. The heavy bolt that held it shut was rusted and on the verge of snapping. One more good shove and it would surely fall away.
“Step back,” Hunter said, and Mickie quickly moved out of his way. He took another run at the door and hit it so hard he gripped his shoulder, face screwing up in pain, afterwards.
The door fell to the ground in a dusty thump.
Mickie went over to him, assessing his head wound in the grey sunlight that poured into the shack. “You’re pretty banged up. We should get you to a hospital.”
“Bah.” He waved her off, then took her hand and helped her step over the rubble at the entry. “I’m fine.”
Thankfully the head wound was superficial and he hadn’t lost a lot of blood. But Mickie wondered about the damage he’d done to his shoulder. He seemed to be moving it okay, though, as he massaged and rotated it back and forth, wincing only a bit as he did so.
They were on someone’s property in a rural area, that much was easy to see. A tiny creek burbled along below them, at the base of a small hill to their right. Ahead of them, through a snarled cluster of maples, Mickie could see the highway.
“Look,” she said, grabbing Hunter’s hand and pointing toward the road. “We should go flag down a ride back into the city.”
“Good idea.”
They ran toward the road, breaking through the trees and stepping onto blacktop just as a gleaming orange corvette came zipping up the asphalt.
Hunter waved his arms and stepped carefully out into the
road, remaining out of the corvette’s way but trying to make himself as visible as possible. Mickie followed suit.
The driver slowed down as the car approached. It stopped as it pulled up beside them. The passenger side window slid down to reveal a gorgeous blonde with curls falling over her shoulders. She was clad in tight jean shorts and a white halter top that clung to her pert little breasts. Her hard nipples strained the stretchy fabric. She studied Hunter and Mickie with turquoise eyes.
“Well,” she said, her gaze seductively taking them both in. “What happened to you two?”
Mickie briefly surveyed her disheveled state then blurted, “We need a ride to Saint John Police Department.”
The woman smirked and made no move to open the door. She acted as if they had all the time in the world. “Well, I could help you out … but what’s in it for me?”
Hunter balled his fists against his jean clad thighs. “This is no time to be playing games, lady.”
The woman shrugged. “For all I know, the two of you are lying through your teeth.” Her hand coiled around the gear shift and she put the vehicle back into drive.
“Wait!” Mickie grabbed onto the side of the car before she could leave. “What do you want? If you guarantee you’ll take us to the police, we’ll do it.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hunter frown in her direction.
The blonde gave a feline smile. “Get in and I’ll tell you.”
Since the sports car was a two-seater, Mickie had to sit on Hunter’s lap. The woman pulled away and turned toward a back road. She drove a ways up this dirt and pothole ridden path before she pulled into a wide space off the side that was choked with tall grass and plentiful wildflowers in purple, pink, and white.
She turned to them with that catlike smile again. “It’s always been a fantasy of mine to have a man and a woman.” She did a finger walk up Mickie’s thigh. “Give me a quick thrill and I’ll take you where you need to go.”
Her fingers paused at the hem of Mickie’s denim shorts. Mickie looked at Hunter while the woman lightly brushed a lacquered nail back and forth over bare skin. He looked back and there was silent knowing, silent agreement.
Hard Rock Stepbrothers The Complete Series Page 9
