Heap of Trouble [Trouble, Tennessee 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Natalie Acres

  “Easy, lover,” Justin whispered, bending his head to suckle her breast.

  Her head shook as much as her body. She hadn’t meant to make such a racket, but her ragged breaths and subtle moans led her to another dimension of insatiable goals. She wanted back to back orgasms, one climax to lead straight into another.

  Gabe leisurely rolled a rubber on his cock as he watched. A sexy grin tilted his lips and then he tapped Curt on the shoulder.

  Curt reluctantly backed away, seemingly ready to give up his position for another purpose, a more profound calling. Justin tossed Curt a condom and a tube of lube.

  She felt so exposed then as they looked on with hungry eyes, dousing their dicks with the oily substance. So many sensations were stirring within, so many thoughts propelled through her mind. The men quickly worked out their positions as if it were an everyday occasion.

  Justin rose to his knees and leaned over her face, aiming his cock at her mouth. His excitement oozed to her lips, leaking onto her tongue as she drew him between her cheeks.

  Masculine growls filled the room as Gabe and Curt nipped at her womanly flesh, kissing her nipples, drawing the fullness into their mouths. They were destroying her self-control as if it had been only theirs to devastate, theirs to manipulate.

  They towered over her then, aiming their cocks at her opening. They locked arms and held onto one another as they pushed their penises inside her.

  “Oh!” She gripped Justin’s cock in her tightly clasped hand, needing a minute or two to stretch, burn, and enjoy the full feeling of two cocks working in time to find a satisfying rhythm.

  “Easy does it, baby,” Gabe crooned, bumping his hip against Curt’s.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, looking up at Justin with tears in her eyes.

  “Want them to stop?” He caressed her cheek. “Is that what you need?”

  Stop? Hell no. She just wanted her body to cooperate. The slow stretching burned and throbbed, but the pain was quickly replaced by extraordinary sensations.

  Curt and Gabe paused as if they expected her to push them away.

  “I don’t want anyone to stop.” Instead, she turned her attention to Justin’s cock, licking the tip, twirling her tongue around the crest.

  Justin smiled down at her and cupped the side of her head, guiding her down his shaft again. Curt and Gabe stroked deep and long then, the friction between the men obviously enough to launch a new pace, one they’d set together. They rocked forward, leaning over her as they fucked her, pushing the weight of their cocks deep inside her channel.

  “Good God, she’s squeezing me to death here,” Gabe rasped, latching his lip under his teeth and looking at her as if he had already made a permanent claim and expected her to accept it.

  Justin’s cock stretched across her tongue and she took a deep breath, pulling him to the back of her throat, humming against his rigid length as she indulged in his rich male flavor.

  “That’s it, baby. Suck. Aw, yes. There you go. Hmmm.” His hips swung forward and back, right to left. “Fuck me with that pretty little mouth. Ah yeah. That’s it. Ah God. I’m coming.” His broken voice left him chopping at syllables.

  She tightened her suction, wanting him to come, needing him to give her a deep-throat fuck that would leave her with his salty male taste. He gripped the headboard and she glanced up at his hand. The color seemingly drained from his skin as he stilled a second and then pounded her throat, shooting off in her mouth and splashing his cum against her tongue and lips.

  The salty essence of his release and the way his sac bounced against her chin only further aroused her. Heather swallowed repetitively, aware of her new needs, the desires no one else would ever quite sate. She released Justin and swiped her lips clean, loving every last drop of his succulent taste.

  Justin eased away, kissed her forehead, and left the room. She pushed her arms above her shoulders then, flattening her palms against the bed as she watched two of the most remarkable men go to town on loving her.

  They fucked her like champions, as if stamina was a prize to behold and the winner would take home the lady. Their cocks worked in time as they impaled her together, setting the kind of rhythm that made her stark crazy.

  Mashing her hands against the wood, she pushed her body away from the bed, squeezing their cocks as they stroked her. Beads of sweat peppered their brows as their thighs bunched. Their muscular arms and broad shoulders went rigid. The stroking stopped. She clenched around their thick shafts, loving the pulsing vibrations shooting through her channel.

  “There you go,” Curt rasped, his eyelids drooping now.

  “Let go, baby.” Gabe’s nostrils flared and he threw his head back.

  Her breath came out in spurts. Her body was then an instrument of gratification, finely tuned now after being masterfully played by those who were truly experts in their field.

  Heather dreamily watched them watching her. She was lost in that moment, rocking to her very own tempo and holding out for the last orgasmic pleasure of the night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Heather awoke to an empty bed, momentarily depressed to find her room empty. “Damn curfews.”

  It was an ordinary room, much like what some might find in a college dormitory, with its standard bed, leather and somewhat masculine looking sofa and recliner. Then again, she couldn’t recall seeing leather in college dorms unless the students decked out the living space.

  The large bay window with its window seat was nice, and the pine hardwood floors were pretty. More importantly, they were seemingly dirt-free. The Vance brothers hadn’t been big on cleanliness.

  After a hot steam shower, she hurriedly dressed in low-riding jeans and a white tee. She tossed on a jacket, gathered her hair between two hands and thrust it atop her head, securing it in a quick, loose bun. Minutes later, she entered the somewhat vacant café and chose a corner booth. Her men would likely be along soon.

  She grinned then as she thought of her boyfriends and reached for the menu, tucked between the napkin holder and condiments. She paused between the lengthy description of the “troubled and hungry man’s” breakfast and more nutritious selections.

  Were Gabe, Justin, and Curt her boyfriends? The giddy feeling swam inside her and her nipples hardened as soon as she returned to recent memories.

  She fanned her face with the menu and looked up in time to see Detective Brice walking toward her. “Must’ve been some kind of night if you’re grinning like that this morning.”

  “Detective Brice.” Immediately on guard, she set aside her menu. “Isn’t that an inappropriate way to talk to a witness?”

  “If so, I apologize,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “May I join you?”

  If he valued his life, it probably wasn’t a wise move. Gabe didn’t like him and he probably wouldn’t take too kindly to an interrogation without being there, too.

  “Sure,” she muttered, noticing a young woman hurrying to the phone.

  “See how this place works?” Detective Brice grinned. “I’ve never been here but I’ve heard about it from some of my coworkers. “Right now, the little blonde is calling one of your protectors. I’m guessing the obsessive one—Mr. Reynolds—will join us shortly. If not Reynolds, perhaps your brother.”

  “If you haven’t visited Trouble in the past, I should consider myself lucky. You came all this way just for me.” She left the spunk out of her voice and noticed the blonde one again as she hung up the phone discreetly, avoided eye contact and then grabbed two coffee mugs and filled them.

  “You look like coffee drinkers,” she said, approaching them with a smile. “I’m Serena. You must be Heather.”

  “Did the person on the other end of the phone tell you that?” Detective Brice asked, frowning at the menu. “I’m Detective Brice.” He reached out his hand. She set down the mugs and accepted the handshake while blushing like crazy.

  “Serena,” she said again, only this time she seemed shy and more reserved. “Have you d
ecided on breakfast yet?”

  “I’ll take two eggs over easy and dry wheat toast with strawberry jam,” Heather said.

  “And for you?” Serena asked, glancing up at the door as the jingle of bells announced a new arrival.

  “Coffee is fine. I won’t be welcome for longer than a minute.”

  “Oh.” Serena’s smile faded and she shrugged. “Okay. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

  Draegan McCall sauntered forward. He was working that swagger for all it was worth and it only took Heather a moment to realize—Draegan had a thing for the cute waitress. After a short greeting, Draegan joined them, dragging a chair with him as he walked. “Detective Brice. Had I known we were expecting you this morning, I would’ve invited more of Trouble’s founding fathers.”

  “Good morning, Mr. McCall. I take it you slept well last night.”

  “Always do,” Draegan said, tilting his head at Heather. “You doin’ all right here, Heather?”

  “Yes,” she replied, quickly adding, “Detective Brice just caught up with me.”

  “I’ll get straight to it now that Draegan is here.” The detective took a quick sip of his coffee. “The Vance brothers are going away for a long time, but Rons made bail.”

  “What?”

  “We think he’ll run and we have our guys on him, but he made bail.”

  “How does that happen?” Draegan asked.

  “We didn’t have enough evidence on him to hold him. The others had fingerprints on file and they were quickly matched to the weapons used in various crimes.”

  “He’ll flee,” Heather said. “He can get out of the country. He has passports and several different identities. I’ve seen them.”

  “And that’s why I’m here,” Detective Brice said. “I wondered that very thing. Any idea what names are on those passports?”

  She slowly shook her head. “I saw a box of them in the kitchen. I had just opened it when Kens walked in and pitched a fit. I never saw the box again.”

  “You don’t remember any of the names?”

  “I didn’t even look at the names. I flipped through them and that was about it. I remember one that was sort of unusual though. Rons was dressed as an older woman, carrying a big black pocketbook. He wore a red wig.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No,” she said apologetically. “That’s the only one I remember and only because it was comical. If I hadn’t known Rons, I wouldn’t have known it was a costume.”

  “All right then,” Detective Brice said, standing. He shook hands with Draegan, plucked his jacket from the booth, and headed out. “Oh, and Heather?” He slowly turned and grinned. “Give my regards to Mr. Reynolds. Tell him I’m sorry I missed him.”

  Draegan returned the chair to its appropriate table. He then sat across from Heather, pushing the detective’s mug aside. “Gabe, Justin, and Curt went out this morning with Allister. We’d already heard the news. Gabe said to tell you not to worry. Rons won’t come near here.”

  Her pulse raced and she swallowed back her fear. “I’m not worried about me, Draegan. I’m worried about them. Rons was always the Vance brother everyone underestimated. He was kind to me at times, but when he showed his true face? He revealed more evil than any of the others.”

  Draegan stroked his chin in deep thought. After a moment, he pulled free his cell and typed out a message. One ping indicated someone fired one right back. Draegan looked up at her then. “Any chance Rons was the one who killed Dons?”

  “From the beginning I thought it was a fifty-fifty chance, but you heard the detective. They had prints and they couldn’t pin anything on Rons.”

  “Considering he’s the one with an old lady ID, I’m willing to bet he’s the mastermind behind a lot of the Vance family business.”

  Serena arrived with breakfast. She blushed like crazy again, fumbled the silverware, and nearly dumped Draegan’s pancakes in his lap.

  “I think she likes you,” Heather said, using her fork to cut her eggs.

  “Let’s hope you’re right.”

  * * * *

  “I’m not believing this,” Justin muttered, placing the binoculars at the bridge of his nose. “Check this out.” He handed over the binoculars.

  Gabe took the field glasses and adjusted them. “What the hell?”

  “Looks like our boy is making his move,” Curt said, dialing Draegan. “Who’s guarding the gate?” A beat later, he said, “All right. Let Bradley and Markie know a little old woman is standing at the intercom post. She should be requesting entry. She’s wearing a bold orange dress with a raincoat to match and sunglasses. And she’s carrying a large black bag.”

  “This ought to be good,” Gabe said, passing the binoculars over his shoulder.

  “Can we get any closer?” Curt asked, leaning between the bucket seats.

  “Not with Allister’s big ass right in front of us. Somebody should’ve told him if he wanted to go undercover, driving Trouble’s dually wasn’t the way to do it.” Justin frowned. “Get Markie on the phone. Dude’s packing.” He gripped the binoculars. “Shit! He has explosives!”

  “Fuck!” Curt swung his sniper rifle over the seat.

  “So help me, if you fire that gun with me sitting here, I’ll kill you myself after I’m stitched up with a hundred or so stitches.”

  Gabe punched the code in the phone, alerting all of Trouble’s founding fathers. “Do not. I repeat, do not open the gate. Rons Vance is at the post ringing in now. Looks like he’s wearing some fire.”

  “Fuck! Allister is moving closer.”

  “Maybe he didn’t get the message.” Justin laid on the horn. The alarming repetition of the horn resonated in the surrounding area.

  Gabe dialed Allister direct. “Get out of there!”

  “I heard ya,” Allister said calmly. “And that’s why I’m doing this.” His tires barked and he sped up, plowing over the poor little façade of an old woman without so much as hitting the brakes.

  He sped away and circled back around.

  “Oh my God,” Justin said, paling. “Did I really just watch that?”

  “He didn’t have much of a choice,” Gabe said, acknowledging the still body mere inches from the intercom post.

  “No movement here,” Gabe reported, calling the main line and connecting with Markie.

  “We’ve got a direct shot, sugar. I’ll take it.” He pumped a few bullets in the fallen form and sighed. “And that will be that.”

  “Markie, he was probably already dead.”

  “Well I guess we’ll never know. I could’ve sworn I saw movement. In fact, I’m sure of it, hon. Poor thing lifted her hand right up and made a peace sign. Besides, Allister has enough to worry about. He didn’t need death on his conscience.”

  Gabe sighed, disconnected the line, and looked straight ahead. “And here everyone thought he was the lucky one, the smart one.”

  “Give him props for the outfit. If we hadn’t been following him since dawn, I wouldn’t have picked up on this. How about you?” Justin looked at Gabe.

  “Of course he would’ve,” Curt said, slapping Gabe’s shoulder. “He’s an intuitive somebody.”

  “How’s that?” Gabe asked, glancing in the backseat.

  “You’re the one who said Justin hadn’t been in Heather’s bed. Turns out you were right.”

  “Yeah and what happens when I finally get there?”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Gabe told him.

  “And you won’t hear me complain in another fifteen minutes either,” Justin said, cranking the truck.

  Gabe spotted the detective at the gate. “Fifteen?” He grunted. “Try a couple of hours. Detective Brice has a way of screwing up a happy ending.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Let me guess. You only offer a safe place to sexy ladies with legs that run for days?”

  “I know you aren’t talking about Heather in that tone of voice,” Gabe said, standing over Rons Vance.


  The detective grinned. “She’s a looker but not quite my type.”

  “Understand if that doesn’t hurt my feelings,” Gabe said, nudging Rons with his foot and flipping him to his back.

  “No respect for the dead here?”

  “Not when they come this close to our gates wearing that much dynamite.”

  “The stupid fuck would’ve done well to blow himself up,” Detective Brice said, squatting next to the body.

  Allister had been talking to one of the beat cops when he finally decided to step closer to his handiwork. “Hate it had to go down like this, Detective.”

  Brice looked up. “You apologizing to ease your conscience or because you think I care?”

  “You don’t?”

  The detective stood erect again. “Let me get one thing straight. I had a sister. She died. She was the apple of my eye, twelve years difference in us. I remember when she was born. Everyone loved her, including scumbags like the Vance brothers. I’ve driven by this place on several occasions. Always wanted to go inside.” He looked back at the gates. “If my sister Carolyn had perhaps had an option like Trouble, she wouldn’t be in the ground today.”

  Justin shifted his weight and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Real sorry to hear about your sister.”

  “Thank you,” Brice said, blowing out a breath. “My point is this.” He leveled a look on each of them before he finished by saying, “You guys are doing a good thing here. If someone threatens that, if someone comes here draped in fireworks or an explosive that might take this place down, you have a right to protect what’s yours on either side of this gate as far as I’m concerned.”

  They all seemingly looked at the detective in a new light then. Gabe, Justin, Curt, Draegan, Markie, and Allister awaited the opportunity to shake his hand and thank him again.

  As the ambulance and other squad cars pulled in front of Trouble’s sign, the detective nodded at Gabe and grinned. “You tell Heather I’ll be seeing her.”