Sexual Healing [Impulse 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  “Relax, lover,” Bryce chided, “and let me do my work.”

  Jared closed his eyes and sighed when Bryce’s hands, slick with warm oil, attacked one of his feet. He worked each of his toes in turn, then his insoles. Slowly he worked his way up Jared’s left calf, his hands firm on the upward sweep, almost non-existent on the return journey. He repeated the process with Jared’s other calf, then worked his upper legs, ignoring his ass and the rigid erection trapped painfully beneath him. His head turned to one side, Jared felt his vitality returning when he saw that Bryce was naked, his cock jutting out from his pubic hair, thick, cut and pulsating.

  Bring it on!

  Avoiding Jared’s spine, Bryce’s skilled hands worked on the muscles in his back, then his shoulders and neck. Jared had almost fallen asleep by the time Bryce finally returned his attention to Jared’s butt. With a semi-retracted claw peculiar to cheetahs, he brought Jared enthusiastically back to life by rimming his anus with it.

  “Thought that would get your attention.” Bryce chuckled. “Okay, big boy, turn over and let’s be having you.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Bryce let out a soft whistle when Jared settled on his back. “My, my, we are in the mood, aren’t we?”

  “And whose fault is that? You and your fucking wandering hands. There ought to be a law against it.”

  “Bring it up at the next council meeting, pun intended.”

  Jared laughed. “I’ll give you a dozen more chances not to do it again.”

  “You still feeling tired?” Bryce asked, serious for once.

  “Not that tired.”

  “Our mate had fucking better turn up soon.” Bryce growled, working oil into Jared’s chest.

  “The others are taking on more responsibilities when we shift, but I don’t like it that we’re not pulling our weight.”

  “I hear you, but I guess that’s all part of being a colony.”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

  “Quit whining and let’s have some fun.”

  Bryce applied his hands to Jared’s nipples, eliciting a soft groan from his victim as he rubbed and tweaked. Jared was just getting into it when Bryce quit and worked his way lower, giving his attention to Jared’s loaded balls instead. He kept them permanently free of hair, which enhanced the sensation, especially when Bryce used his tongue instead of his hands on them. His slippery fingers moved to his throbbing cock, which he took in a firm grasp. It jerked and spasmed, but Jared managed to maintain control.

  Just.

  “If you want me to relax, you’re gonna have to bring me off first.” Jared gasped. “I’m on fucking fire here.”

  “Stand up.”

  Jared sprang to his feet with the lithe, graceful coordination of the feline that he was, finding reserves of energy from somewhere. Bryce pulled Jared into his arms and kissed him, their rigid cocks making painful connection as their bodies slammed together. The oil from Jared’s body transferred to Bryce’s and they adhered to one another like separate parts of a single entity. Jared reached a hand between them and squeezed Bryce’s balls. Bryce groaned and pushed Jared’s hand aside.

  “Not quite so in control now, are we, lover?” Jared chided.

  “Let’s rub cocks,” Bryce said curtly, releasing Jared so he could produce a ribbon to tie around their cocks.

  They moved instinctively as soon as it was in place, pumping their pelvises to produce simultaneous stimulation. Jared’s groan was echoed by Bryce’s as they upped the pace, increasing the friction against their frenulum nerves. Jared teetered on the brink, tiredness forgotten as tingling exhilaration and a heady rush spiraled through his body.

  “Shit, I’m gonna come!” Jared closed his eyes, hoping to delay the moment, knowing it was a lost cause. “I can’t hold it.”

  “Me too.” Bryce reached behind Jared and slapped his ass. “Let it go, lover. Let’s do this together.”

  Both men exploded, their sperm adhering to their oily bodies and slowly trickling downwards. Bryce untied their cocks and reached for a washcloth.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Much,” Jared replied. “Come on, buddy, let’s get showered. Then I guess I’d best go and tell Rafe my conclusions about the lovely Stella.”

  “I’ll come with you. That’s not the sort of news you need to impart alone. Besides, Ryan will be upset when he hears. I might be able to doing something there.”

  “What would I do without you?” Jared asked, throwing an arm over Bryce’s shoulder as they headed for the shower.

  Bryce laughed. “Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

  Chapter Two

  As soon as the door closed behind the gunman, Caitlyn sprang from her hiding place and rushed toward Tony, her nostrils filled with the coppery smell of spilt blood. So much blood. Tony couldn’t have survived, surely? She steeled herself to approach his slumped body and felt for a pulse. Nothing. She’d seen enough television programs to know there was nothing more she should do and that she shouldn’t try to move him. Instead she reached for the house phone and dialed 911.

  In no time flat the street was crawling with emergency vehicles, lights strobing, and passersby gawking from behind yellow crime scene tape. Caitlyn had desperately wanted to take a look upstairs, to see if Mia was actually there, but the police responded too quickly for that to be possible. Besides, there was a keypad to get past and she didn’t know the code.

  The restaurant was now crowded with police, crime-scene technicians, medics, and a ton of other people whose functions she couldn’t begin to fathom. Caitlyn sat with her head between her knees, trying not to be sick as she answered questions fired at her by a harried detective. There was little she could tell him but was still required to repeat her story over and over again.

  Eventually she got fed up with being grilled. Hoping her legs were strong enough to support her weight, she stood up. She wobbled, grabbed the back of a chair, and the world remained in focus. All she wanted to do was to get out of here, before they discovered she wasn’t who she claimed to be. She also needed to know if Mia was hidden away upstairs but couldn’t ask without explaining about Mia and betraying her trust—something she wasn’t yet prepared to do. Besides, time was of the essence. At the moment they clearly didn’t view her as a suspect. Presumably perpetrators didn’t call the cops to report their own crimes, looking like they were catatonic with shock. As soon as they found out her ID was fake, all that would change.

  Another detective emerged from upstairs and spoke quietly to the one with Caitlyn. She overheard enough of their conversation to know there was no one upstairs, which was her cue to leave. She shook her head, bitterness coursing through her like acid. The past two weeks had been a massive waste of time.

  Mia wasn’t here.

  She’d been so sure she was on the right trail, but whoever had Mia had been one step ahead of her the entire time.

  “If that’s all, I’m going home.”

  The detective looked as though he wanted to argue. Then he subjected her face, followed by the rest of her, to a protracted scrutiny and nodded. “I’ll get someone to drive you.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “All part of the service,” he said.

  Caitlyn gasped. How could he know they were almost the last words she’d said to Tony? A uniformed policeman stepped forward before she could decide whether to make anything of it. He was a very large policeman, whose size ought to have inspired confidence. It did, until she looked up and saw his eyes. Her legs abruptly gave out again, and she fell back into her chair with a heavy thud.

  She’d never forget those eyes.

  Caitlyn’s head spun, and this time she thought she really would throw up. She swallowed down bile, trying to convince herself that she was imagining things. How could Tony possibly have been shot up by a serving policeman? A policeman who appeared to be in the middle of his shift. It wasn’t possible, and yet she knew she was right.
What’s more, the killer now knew there had been a witness to his crime. Presumably he wouldn’t have any qualms about changing that situation on a permanent basis. And he’d been handed the perfect opportunity to cover his tracks since the lead detective had told him to drive her home. Fear caused her adrenaline to spike, and she sprang to her feet.

  “I need to use the restroom first,” she said.

  She grabbed her purse and disappeared along the corridor leading to the bathrooms, veering off into the kitchen. It had a backdoor. She let herself out and ran, terror lending her extra speed. She had to get away before they realized—before the killer realized—she’d gone. Her apartment was only two blocks away, and she covered the distance at a speed that would impress an Olympic athlete. Her beloved Corvette was parked in the underground garage—a car that no one at the restaurant knew she owned.

  “Quick!” she yelled as she threw her key in the lock and entered her studio. “We have to get out of here.”

  Marvin, her enormous and inherently lazy cat to whom this remark was addressed, looked up from his slumbers and blinked huge silver eyes. Apart from that, he didn’t move a muscle.

  “Marvin, I’m serious. We’re in trouble.”

  There was no time to pack. The police could be here at any moment. She threw a few clothes haphazardly into a large tote, grabbed her laptop, phone, and purse—the only things that really mattered to her apart from Marvin—and she was ready.

  “Come on, Marvin, let’s go.”

  The cat uncurled himself, treated her to a piercing look and commenced methodically washing his face.

  “Oh for goodness’ sake!”

  She hefted him into her arms and threw him around her neck as though he was a stripy silver shawl. Marvin didn’t seem to mind. He hated all people, and most other animals, too. He’d had a bad time of it as a kitten, so Caitlyn couldn’t blame him for that. She wasn’t too keen on the rest of the human race herself half the time. Caitlyn had saved Marvin from being drowned, after which he condescended to be adopted by her. She could do just about anything with him, including using him as a fashion accessory. If anyone else tried it, they’d probably get their eyes scratched out.

  Caitlyn took the stairs to the garage and threw Marvin into the passenger seat of her car. He curled up again, and she could have sworn he expelled the equivalent of a feline sigh. Okay, so they’d moved around a lot recently, but Marvin’s dietary requirements hadn’t suffered, which were all he had to worry about in his pampered existence. She threw the rest of her meager belongings into the footwell, ran round to the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. She exited the garage just in time to see a police car pull up at the front of her building.

  “God, that was close,” she told Marvin, driving slowly in the opposite direction, wondering where to go.

  Now in full self-preservation mode, she headed for the interstate. No one knew her real name, nor would they be able to find it out, unless someone had seen the Corvette and taken down the plate number. The car was registered to her. Still, it was unlikely. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in the two weeks she’d been in town, other than her co-workers, and they certainly didn’t know about the car. Why would a waitress who lived in a shitty studio apartment have a Corvette? Those were the sorts of questions that the police would ask if they found out. They also happened to be the very questions she absolutely didn’t want to answer.

  Still, she had to assume the cops, with their unlimited resources, might find out about the car sooner or later. She’d fled the scene of a murder. That immediately made her a suspect, and they’d be on the lookout for her. She needed to be well out the way before she was spotted. Miami was the obvious place to head. She could work on losing herself in plain sight in a large city. But she didn’t feel safe staying so close to West Palm Beach and turned inland toward Orlando instead, with no clear destination in mind. Marvin, now curled up on the passenger seat, was purring like a traction engine.

  “Well, at least someone’s enjoying himself,” she said aloud, stroking his sleek head.

  Each time a police car passed in either direction, Caitlyn was convinced they were on to her. But when no sirens sounded and no flashing lights showed in her rearview mirror, she gradually began to relax.

  So far so good.

  She still had no idea where she was headed and simply drove where the fancy took her. It was like being on autopilot. Her car ate up the miles while she worried away at her problems. Far from finding Mia, she’d just made matters worse by getting herself embroiled in a murder case. The only thing she now knew for sure was that Tony had mixed with some shady characters. Any lingering doubts about his involvement in Mia’s disappearance dissipated, and she was more determined than ever to rescue her friend.

  Caitlyn recalled the killer’s cool demeanor and prayed she wasn’t too late. By running she would now be labeled as a person of interest, or the main suspect. She was no longer afraid of the policeman who committed the crime coming after her. Why would he bother when he could now point the finger of suspicion in her direction? He’d be sent to look for her, would find she’d flown the coup and probably use the opportunity to plant incriminating evidence in her studio. What were the odds against the murder weapon showing up there? It’s what she’d do in his place. Hell, this Nancy Drew business was harder than they made it seem in the movies. It had all seemed so straightforward. Find Mia, bring her home, and talk some sense into her. No one had said anything about murders.

  “Where the hell are we, Marvin?” she asked when she drifted off the interstate somewhere in west Florida. A city sign appeared in her headlights. “Impulse?” She almost laughed, even though she had precious little to laugh about. “Hell, that has to be a sign. If impulse didn’t get me into this mess in the first place then I don’t know what did.”

  Without hesitation she drove over a bridge into what seemed like a narrow spit of land. Perhaps this wasn’t so wise after all. If she was found here, there was nowhere to run. But she was beat—couldn’t drive another yard. She made her way slowly along what was obviously Main Street, took a left, and parked up in the nearest space.

  “Come on, Marvin. Let’s go see if we can find a pet-friendly motel.”

  The moment she stepped out of her air-conditioned car, it felt as though someone had fastened a brace around her lungs. Her chest ached with the effort it took to draw breath, and her feet felt like lead weights, impossible for her to lift.

  “Shit, I must be having a heart attack or something.”

  That was sure how it felt. She doubled over, gasping for breath, glad she hadn’t let Marvin out of the car. They couldn’t stay here. It felt polluted. She should have trusted her initial instincts when she saw there was only one road into and out of the place. Caitlyn struggled to find the energy to return to her car, but before she could manage it a bundle of silver stripes flew past her. Damn, she hadn’t closed the door.

  “Marvin, get back here.”

  Her voice sounded tinny and weak, so it was hardly surprising that Marvin didn’t respond. He’d disappeared into the crawl space beneath the nearest house, and she’d have to get him back somehow. She couldn’t lose Marvin. He was the one mainstay in her life, even if he was antisocial and short on words. She somehow found the energy to follow him into the crawl space, perspiring in the humid heat and gasping for breath, hoping there were no spiders lurking.

  “Marvin, come on, babe, let’s go.”

  She saw a flash of silver fur in the farthest corner. Damn it, if he’d chosen this particular moment to launch a new career as a rat-catcher then his timing stank. He’d always been far too lazy to bother with normal feline pursuits, but Caitlyn’s worst fears were realized when she heard the scrabbling of tiny feet. Her skin crawled. She disliked rodents even more than she did spiders.

  “Marvin, come on!”

  She crawled forward on her hands and knees, brushing spiders’ webs from her face as she went, hoping they weren’t occupied. What was it tha
t had made Marvin so antsy? This was so unlike him. The farther she crawled, the harder it was for her to breathe. Bathed in perspiration, she banged her head twice and felt blood trickling down her forehead.

  “Great, just great!” she muttered, brushing it away with the back of her hand. “Marvin, I can’t do this anymore. We need to—need…”

  What was it that they needed to do? Her head was spinning, making coherent thought impossible. Her lungs felt ready to explode. She needed to rest, just for a moment.

  “I’m just gonna wait here for you, Marvin.”

  Falling to her side, Caitlyn curled her knees up to her chest and promptly lost consciousness.

  * * * *

  “I haven’t got the energy to leap through the window like we usually do,” Jared reluctantly pheromoned. “We’re gonna have to shift back out here.”

  “I told you we shouldn’t have gone out tonight. They didn’t need us.”

  “Perhaps not, but I needed to prove something to myself.”

  “That you’re a stubborn cat?” Bryce flashed a cocky feline grin. “I could have told you that myself.”

  “Yeah well, no one will see us, but even if they do, it won’t freak them out.”

  “What, seeing us two in the buff? That ain’t a sight the ladies get to see everyday.”

  Jared rolled his eyes. “Modesty becomes you.”

  “Modesty is for those with something to be modest about.”

  “Get over yourself, buddy.”

  With a popping of bones and straining of sinews, Jared’s human form reemerged, the process taking far longer than it should have, the strain on his limbs debilitating. Bryce managed it more quickly, and the two of them stood buck naked in the street in front of their house.