That he had left one of the blinds only halfway closed gave Amadeo an extra thrill. He’d always been a bit of an exhibitionist. He knew he was a great strapping caveman of a stud that both men and women loved to ogle, and already a few of Chas’s workers were peeking into the window, squinting as if to make sure they weren’t hallucinating.
Steffen pretended not to notice as he slid a palm down the front of Amadeo’s jeans and grabbed a handful of cock. “Are you always hard?” he asked good-naturedly. “Your long, juicy cock seems to always be hard. Willow, drizzle some oil on this dick.”
Willow did as commanded, and soon Steffen was jacking the whole length of Amadeo’s dick with the oil, greasing up his testicles the size of tennis balls. He seemed to take great enjoyment in slowly arousing Amadeo, obviously turned on by the visual of his hand squeezing the slick meat. Or maybe he was stimulated by watching his girlfriend tweak Amadeo’s pebbled nipples, harshly rubbing her fingertips in a circular motion around the nipples, and how that made Amadeo’s dick twitch and jump.
Once he’d gotten Amadeo’s penis nice and oiled, Steffen smacked it with the paddle. Amadeo’s whole body twitched. Instinctively he squeezed his eyes shut. It had been a long time since he’d felt the sudden pain-pleasure of cock-and-ball torture, but Steffen seemed to be a natural. As Willow’s little hand moved around to slide his jeans down and oil up his ass, swirling her fingertips around his tense asshole, Steffen expertly spanked his greasy cock with the paddle as though he’d been born to it. Maybe he’d seen it done at the Racquet Club—Amadeo hoped. Thinking of Steffen playing with other men riddled his stomach with jealousy too, and he understood how Steffen might feel, watching Amadeo touch his girlfriend.
“You think you’re just a big stud,” snarled Steffen. Slap. “You think just everyone wants to get a piece of you because you’re so built and carved.” Smack. “Well, this is your punishment.” Slap.
Amadeo looked up from under his lashes. “Except I like it. Every time you spank my cock it gets bigger.”
“That’s true.” Smack. In between slaps, Steffen caressed the cock lovingly, his nostrils flaring, his iceberg blue eyes looking down his nose at the bound man. The only movement Amadeo could make was to thrust his hips toward Steffen, to display his pleasure, that he wanted more, more. Slap. “You’re being even badder than I thought. This is actually arousing you, having your dick paddled.”
“Try this.” Willow’s voice came from behind Amadeo, and he only saw her arm stretching out to offer something to Steffen.
Steffen’s evil grin told Amadeo what he needed to know. “A cock ring. Nice touch, Willow.”
Steffen said, “Not just any cock ring. Cock bling. This thing is studded with rhinestones.”
Willow said, “It was just hanging over the arm of this cross. Looks clean.”
It was the sort of black leather ring that would go below the balls, scrunching them up and making them appear more prominent. Steffen cinched it around the ball sac with a flourish. His own package was bulging the crotch of his jeans, and he seemed to like the look of the eager, stimulated cock and balls being squeezed like that. If Amadeo pretended to struggle against his bonds, all that jerked was his bound cock and balls, bobbing in the air all greased up, and Steffen stepped back with crossed arms to admire his handiwork.
“Let me go, you damned bastard,” Amadeo pretended to protest.
Steffen stepped up to dribble more oil on the cock. “Not on your life. You’re our prisoner now, our slave.” He bent to clamp his mouth over one of Amadeo’s nipples. His nibbling sent pangs of painful ecstasy shooting down Amadeo’s abdomen directly into his cock. Willow dared to bend and slurp at the other nipple. Steffen didn’t seem to mind that. Maybe Amadeo was making some headway.
Steffen backed away again. “Hold the cock up,” he commanded Willow. They shared a conspiratorial look, and Amadeo knew what was coming.
Smack. The entire scrunched-up ball sac was paddled, and finally Amadeo let out a strangled yell. That did hurt. But no matter how many times Steffen paddled his poor scrunched-up sac, the cock just grew in Willow’s hand. The men at the window—there now appeared to be a woman as well—were getting handprints and noseprints all over the glass with their drooling. A couple of the workers were even massaging their own erections through their pants, and Amadeo was proud to be the cause of their ardor.
“You like those people watching you torture my cock and balls,” Amadeo growled between spankings.
Swat. Steffen’s features were lopsided, drunk with power. Amadeo had seen this effect many times in Doms high on the endorphin rush of dominance. “I like how it’s turning them on watching your big, swollen cock get paddled.”
“Do you trust me now?” Amadeo asked between gritted teeth.
“Oh, I trust you all right. I always did, Amadeo. I just wanted to get you into a helpless position so you have no say in what I do.” Tossing the paddle onto a couch, Steffen put a hand on Willow’s shoulder. “Get on your knees and pleasure him. But not too fast. I want to get my pleasure of him, too.”
And Steffen walked around the back of the cross. Amadeo could hear him unbuckling his belt, then the rounded nudging of Steffen’s delicious cockhead at the wrinkled opening to his anus. “Oh, that’s good,” Amadeo murmured, wiggling his ass to encourage Steffen. “Good. Fuck me like I’m a girl. Show me what a man you are. I want to feel your dick driving all the way up my ass.”
Steffen slapped the oily ass loudly with a cupped hand. “I’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut, or I won’t give you a nice hard fucking. Willow. Is his prick tasty? Can you swallow all of it?”
“Not all,” Willow admitted, but she was doing a damn fine job. “I think I have a small mouth compared to most women.”
“Get back on it,” Amadeo gasped.
Steffen swatted Amadeo’s ass. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll gag you. You don’t think I’ll use that ball gag we found? You think I’m too submissive for that?”
Amadeo half-laughed and half-groaned. “I don’t think so at all.”
“That’s good.” Steffen encouraged Willow to deep-throat Amadeo. She took his cockhead farther and farther back into her throat, but Amadeo knew she would choke. She did have a small, pouty mouth, but she was working it like mad, filling Amadeo with nearly painful lust—and also pride.
Steffen was including him. Amadeo wasn’t on the outside looking in. He was sandwiched—spit roasted—between his two lovers, being reamed up the ass by the biggest, most muscular cock he’d seen in and out of the Racquet Club, while being sucked by the shapely Miss Paige. What does Steffen call her? Sublime. She’s a sublime sub.
“Oh, God!” Steffen continued swatting Amadeo’s ass cheek loud, leaving a pleasant sting that radiated down his thighs. He reached around and got a handful of Amadeo’s testicles, full and bulging in the stricture of the cock ring. “Nice tight ass…driving me crazy…Get him off, Willow, while I pound his nice tight ass.”
When Steffen hit Amadeo’s prostate gland and gyrated his hips like a stripper, massaging it exquisitely, Amadeo went off like a rocket. His entire body twitched and shuddered like someone being beamed onto an alien craft. Willow’s talented little mouth suckled and drew the seed from him while Steffen held his dick deep inside Amadeo, twitching with his own orgasmic spasms. Although unfamiliar with humping other men, Steffen milked Amadeo’s prostate efficiently, his cockhead kneading and stroking the spot that gave Amadeo so much ecstasy.
“Whoa!” Willow was the first to withdraw, falling back onto her butt on the carpet. Amadeo panted and laughed down at her. She looked like a roller skater on her butt with that flippy little skirt spread out. Leaning back on her hands, she looked up at the two men with shining eyes. “Never seen such an amazing sight in my life.”
“Neither have they,” Steffen panted, and Amadeo knew he meant the appreciative audience at the window.
Amadeo was pleasantly surprised to see that their performance had spurred at least two
men to ejaculate against the window. Who cares? They’re the ones going to have to clean it. The woman outside had completely vanished, presumably to finish the job with one of the men, and hopefully in a more private atmosphere. “We can’t be doing this once the motel’s open,” Amadeo noted.
Willow shrugged. “Not unless we charge extra for a matinee. Right?”
Steffen’s laughter assisted his cock to slide from Amadeo’s ass, and he continued laughing as he unbuckled one of Amadeo’s cuffs. “Here, Willow. Get the other one. Yeah, I’ve often found it to be exciting, exhibiting myself for people. But I can understand if Miss Paige doesn’t want to. I don’t really want any strangers looking at her. Right, Amadeo?”
“Right,” Amadeo agreed. Experimentally he lowered his arms. He expected them to be sort of numb from the blood rushing from his hands, and they were. Willow, unbuckling an ankle shackle, rose to lick Amadeo’s cock that hung like a dead rubber hose, dangling down his thigh. He nearly shot through the ceiling at the sudden shock of sensation. “Girl! Back down!”
Steffen counseled his girlfriend. “Remember we tried to give you aftercare after the ride on the pool table? Let’s go easy on Amadeo. Go make him a gimlet and there should be some chocolate there on the wet bar.”
“I prefer a regular manly whiskey,” said Amadeo, bending to massage his ankles. He walked to the window and yanked the blinds to drop them even though one fellow was still eagerly jerking his pole. “What should we call that menu item?”
“Hot Cross Buns,” Steffen said instantly.
“Hey, you’re good at that,” said Willow at the wet bar, where she was unscrewing a bottle of whiskey. “Making up menu items. Hot Cross Buns, of course, is an appetizer. I was thinking of framing that original Sunset Palomino menu that I found, what do you think? We could either put it up here in the cottage, or in the lob—”
A sharp, loud bang sounded out. At first, Amadeo was just in shock, looking around the room. Whatever it was had come through the open window where he’d just lowered the blinds. Glass had exploded inward, carpeting one of the burnt orange couches. Was someone pissed off that he’d closed the blind and had thrown something through the window? Amadeo thrust a straight arm at Willow. “Down!” he commanded, and she crouched behind the bar as he withdrew his pistol.
“You got yours?” he shouted at Steffen, but Steffen was one step ahead of him. The building inspector peeked around the other side of the window, holding the blinds apart with his fingers like in a spaghetti western. The barrel of his pistol faced the ceiling, as did Amadeo’s. Workers outside milled around in confusion, although it sounded as though most of them swiftly departed the immediate area.
“It sounded like a gun!” yelled one worker.
“But where did it come from?” shouted another.
Amadeo said, “I heard no report coming from outside. Where did the bullet hit? Don’t move, Willow!”
“I want to help,” Willow whispered from behind the wet bar.
“Look,” said Steffen. “The wall over there. My poster of Liberace, the glass is shattered.”
Amadeo said, “Looks like a…an arrow sticking out from it? You stay here. Keep an eye out, see if you can see the shooter. I’m checking out Liberace.”
Indeed, an arrow shaft was buried about three inches in the drywall. Amadeo was hesitant but really had no choice other than to pull it out, gingerly as though the shaft itself would explode. He took his ever-present Swiss army knife from his pocket and dug around in the hole in the wall.
“Be careful,” said Steffen needlessly. “A plain arrow doesn’t make a sound like that.”
Sure enough, Amadeo dug out a bullet casing, what looked like a .38 or .357 Magnum round. “This asshole somehow managed to encase a round into some kind of plastic cylinder, and shoot it through this window.”
“I’ve already dialed 911,” said Willow.
Steffen said, “Well, I ain’t waiting for those cops to dick around again. We know who it is. He’s out there somewhere with a fucking compound bow, and we’ve got pistols.” Steffen broke away from the window and joined Amadeo by the shattered Liberace poster. “Judging from this trajectory, he’s down by the pétanque court.”
Willow peeked around the corner of the wet bar. “He’d be stupid if he’s still there,” she pointed out. Into her phone she said, “Yes, I’d like to report a, uh, a shooting at the Searchlight Motel on Manilow Avenue.”
“Come on.” Steffen lifted his chin at Amadeo. “We’re getting this motherfucker once and for all.”
Chapter Fourteen
Willow wasn’t about to sit around like a lame duck waiting for the next shot, or arrow, or whatever the hell Ronnie Dobbs was using to shoot at Liberace’s poster. Her two men were already out the door and heading down the lawn toward the pétanque court like two shirtless demigods.
Luckily her dress had pockets, so Willow slid her cell into one and the “cock bling” into another. She’d never seen this bedazzled cock ring before today, and it did look as though it might be a cuff, too. If she could somehow give it to Ronnie as an offering maybe he’d back off long enough to experience his final—or one of his final—arrests.
She saw just a flash of Steffen’s and Amadeo’s feet as they sprinted around the corner of a breezeway. She halted briefly when she noted Carl cowering behind an enormous planter. “Carl!” She didn’t try to drag him out from his hiding place, but he sure tried to drag her in.
“What the fuck?” he shrieked in a high-pitched voice. “I didn’t hear no gun go off, but suddenly your window was shattered and it sure sounded like something exploding inside the cottage!”
“Yeah, it’s Ronnie Dobbs again, of course. He didn’t nail anyone, just the Liberace poster.” She heard a lot of shouting coming from the pétanque court area. “He’s got some kind of bow that can shoot bullets that I guess only explode on impact. Did you notice which direction it came from? Down there by the pétanque court?”
Carl’s eyes were bugged out. “Yeah, but you don’t be going down there, Miss Paige, hear? Those two big guys of yours went running past with guns. I’m shaking like a dog shitting razor blades. They’ll never forgive me if I let you run down there. Wait for the cops!”
Another sharp explosion had Willow’s eyes bugging out too, and they both stared in the direction of the ball court. Other than that, all was dead quiet on the motel’s grounds, the other workers having taken cover like Carl. Willow thought she heard Ronnie Dobb’s frenzied drawl screeching some shit, so she darted down the lawn, too.
“You be careful, Miss Paige!” shrieked Carl before hiding behind the potted palm again.
Once she got closer, she could hear what Dobbs was bellowing about. He actually didn’t seem to be directing his tirade at Steffen or Amadeo. There seemed to be a third person he was angry with. She listened from behind the protection of the building.
“You think you can lecture me? Well you’ve got another thing coming! I wasn’t here to steal you—I was here to help you move forward into a new phase in your life!”
Say what? Willow dared to peek around the corner. Sure enough, Ronnie Dobbs, back to resembling Bart Simpson’s bus driver with his long pyramidal black wedge hairdo, was waving a compound bow around. A quiver with a few arrows was mounted to the bow, and it looked as though one was already nocked and ready to draw as Ronnie waved the bow around. Who was he yelling at?
Not at her two men. They stood with pistols dangling at their sides, looking equally dumbfounded as Ronnie yelled at…a cactus? Holy shit! It looked as though Ronnie had been shooting at one of Willow’s giant beloved saguaro cacti! Those cacti had cost her a fortune! She had planted six of them in a row to showcase the lovely valley beyond at the foot of the San Jacinto Mountains—the valley where one could see parts of Amadeo’s ranch. What was this fucktard doing shooting arms off her cacti? A hundred year’s of nature’s work lay splattered on the ground, and for what? A shovel was stuck into the earth at the base of the twenty
-foot tall cactus as though Ronnie had started digging, but apparently the cactus was getting the better of him.
“I’m sick of your lecturing!” Ronnie cried, pointing an accusing finger at the saguaro. “I haven’t done wrong! You have done wrong! I’ve got no sins to pay for! You’re the one disturbing the cactus universe!”
Steffen and Amadeo shared haunted looks. Amadeo first raised his pistol slowly at Ronnie. “Ronnie Dobbs! Throw down your bow!” Meanwhile, Steffen circled around to flank Ronnie and gain better coverage if they needed to pick him off.
Ronnie twirled with the bow to face Amadeo. He looked confused at first, but realization dawned on his face. “You! You’re that he-man always boinking Willow Paige!”
“I said put down the bow!” Amadeo repeated. Willow was impressed with how his arm holding the pistol didn’t waver the tiniest bit, aimed directly at Ronnie’s head. She had never had any gun training, but she supposed it was foolhardy to point a weapon at anyone unless you intended to use it. Amadeo must intend to use it.
Ronnie didn’t put down the bow. He pointed his free arm at the offending cactus. “This here cactus is trying to tell me I’m going to pay for stealing it! But I was only trying to help!”
“Help by shooting through the cottage window?” shouted Steffen.
Ronnie pivoted about on one foot, looking first at Steffen, then Amadeo, then the cactus, then back to Steffen. He seemed unsure as to who was his biggest, most threatening enemy. “What cottage window?”
Steffen yelled, “The one you just shot that bullet-arrow through!”
Ronnie pointed at the cactus. “The cactus was coming to get me! I’d do it again in a heartbeat the second it starts coming after—Agh!” Twirling about, Ronnie gaped at the looming saguaro. It had looked very noble and majestic silhouetted against the valley floor before ole Ronnie had shot its arm off. Now, it did sort of look pissed-off and threatening, Willow had to admit that much. “No, you are!” Ronnie yelled at the cactus. “You’re the one disturbing the cactus universe! For that you must pay!” And he raised the bow again to shoot the poor harmless cactus.
The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 14
