“We’ll just stay in here a few minutes, baby, and warm you up.”
“’Kay. Just need a minute. Then it’s my turn to make your muscles turn to jelly.”
Taylor grinned and looked up at his brothers. They wore the same very satisfied expression he knew was on his face. It was a good thing they were content, for the time being, with the emotional satisfaction they’d received from pleasuring their woman.
Samantha had fallen asleep in his arms.
Chapter 17
“This case has been a waste of the court’s time. I don’t want to see you in here with such a frivolous suit again, Mr. Nolan. Case dismissed!” The gavel came down hard, making Mort jerk from the sound of it.
He’d let his mind wander for a moment, so it took him a full ten seconds to understand what the judge had just said. He had been slightly concerned when, as the case had actually been called, three men in expensive suits had walked into the courtroom. He’d expected things to go as usual—an offer of settlement by the lawyers for the defendant. Yes, that usually happened before the court date, but he was dealing with defendants in another state. He’d still believed he was in for a nice, fat payday. He’d even made a joke in his own mind that he’d be like thousands of other New Yorkers on this Friday, heading to the bank with a nice, fat paycheck.
“Move it, Mort. Let’s get out of here.”
Pete had said that, and the man’s tone got through when nothing else had. Pete wasn’t mad at having lost a case. He was scared.
Mort got to his feet, and then followed his lawyer out of the room.
“What the hell just happened in there, Pete?”
“Not here!” Pete grabbed his arm and hustled him right outside of the building. He hailed a cab, and they were inside the vehicle in seconds.
Pete gave the driver the address to Mort’s apartment. Traffic was snarled as usual, and it took a half hour to get to his building.
Pete didn’t say a single word during the entire drive. He didn’t speak until they were inside the apartment and the door was locked behind them.
“Who the hell are these people? These Kendalls?” Pete asked. “Holy fuck, Mort!”
“What do you mean who are they? You were the one who went to the library and did the research on them.” Mort narrowed his gaze. “All I had was their names and their addresses.”
“Maybe this is my fault. I wasn’t as thorough as I should have been. What I discovered about them was that they were a couple of ex-Navy guys, ring knockers, who had a dinky law practice in a Podunk town in Texas. Nothing I learned even hinted that they were rich or connected.”
Mort seized on Pete’s admission. He’d never had a case tossed out of court before—of course he’d never had to actually go to court before, except that one time, when the lawyer had offered the settlement right there.
This failure was Pete’s fault, damn it. “Those suits didn’t look Podunk to me, Pete. They looked like a couple of fucking high-priced mouthpieces. You figured those Kendalls to be good for maybe ten grand at the most, because they were lawyers living all the hell and gone out in Texas.”
“There must be connections here, something that I missed. I didn’t figure them rich enough to hire the firm of MacDonald and Kramer to represent them. Do you have any fucking idea how much those guys cost?” Pete rubbed his hands over his face. “I didn’t like the way that one lawyer looked at us and I sure as hell didn’t like the way that judge threatened me, either.” He paced the room, then turned and glared at Mort. “The jig is up. You know that, right? We’re done, you and I. It was good while it lasted, but that judge let me know today he’s onto us—he’s onto me.” Pete nodded. “That lawyer, Eric MacDonald? He’s the fucking senior partner. He had a list of all of our suits over the last two years. Every fucking one of them!”
“So he had a list. That was just one judge and one case.” Mort waved his hand, dismissing his friend’s pessimism. “Crap, Pete, it’s not like you to act like a chickenshit.”
“You don’t understand, Mort. Probably because you don’t want to understand. We are through. That one judge is going to spread word throughout every court in the state. That list of previous suits filed? The one those fancy ass lawyers introduced to the court as evidence? That was our sign. We are done. Not only that, anyone who hired them can afford to keep them on retainer, and can very likely keep other folks on retainer, too. Folks who will make it their business to know where we are and what we’re doing every fucking waking minute of every fucking day.” He flopped into one of the arm chairs. “Fuck, Mort. Just fuck.”
Mort looked at Pete for a long moment. They couldn’t be through. Hell, he’d raked in a shitload of money in the last two years that he’d shared with Pete. They’d made more than forty grand a piece! Sure, the guy had the legal moves but he, Mort, was the brains of this operation. He was the one who came up with targets, and the reason to sue.
This time it had been different, because it had been personal. That was why Pete had gotten in on the research phase. But usually all Pete had to do was generate some paperwork.
“Look, Pete. You got spooked. I don’t understand why, but I get that you are. We should maybe give it a rest for a month or two. Then we can get back to—”
“No.” Pete got to his feet. “I’m a fucking lawyer. But I won’t be one if we keep this up. As it is, I might already be facing a review by the State Bar. I never figured on anyone connecting the dots. So many court rooms, so many judges, and our lawsuits were never headline grabbing. And I felt okay about them because those rich bastards likely fucked over a lot of people. They deserved to be gouged a little.
“But now someone has gone to a fuck of a lot of work, not to mention the time and money involved, to produce that list of past cases, and that means from this moment on, it has to end. I’m sorry. But the law—it’s all I have.”
Mort couldn’t believe it when Pete grabbed up his briefcase, and left. The sound of the slamming door echoing triggered a deep, slow-burning rage inside him.
Mort sat down carefully, his mind racing in a dozen different directions all at once. And as he thought, he realized what it was he’d done wrong.
He’d tried to use the system to get what he believed he deserved, and just like it did to thousands of other poor bastards out there, the system had fucked him over, royally.
I tried to get that money from them in my own backyard, when I should have gone to theirs. It was pretty easy to pay someone else to act tough on your behalf. Pretty easy to not worry about the crap being tossed about, when it landed on someone else’s porch.
And another thing all together when the crap was landing by your own front door. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he was right. The very fact that those Kendalls had gone to all the trouble they had to hire such high-priced lawyers told him that they wanted to keep everything happening here, right here in New York City. What was that football expression that everyone was hyping these days? Don’t worry about the defense, just come up with a strong offense. Ah, yeah, that was it. That was what Mort had to do. He had to mount a strong offense.
Maybe that was what those bastard Kendalls had done, too. They’d come out with a strong offense, instead of defending the suit Mort had brought against them. They’d come out with a strong offense and nailed him behind the line of scrimmage.
He knew his football metaphor was fucked, but that didn’t matter. Mort suddenly realized why they’d take that strategy, too. They were afraid!
They were afraid, because they knew they were guilty. Because they had kept Judith from being completely devoted to him, all the years he’d been married to her. Hell, for all he knew, one or both of them could have been coming north to New York and meeting with her on the side, all these years that they’d been separated, or—no! It had to have been all the years since he’d even met her.
Yeah, that was it! My God, I’ve been a blind fool all these years! Mort pushed away the voice that told him he w
as slipping over the edge. He’d never felt more sane, more certain, in his entire life.
His wife had never warmed to him, the way a wife should warm to her husband. She’d never been as beholding to him as she should have been to the man who’d raised another man’s bastards as his own.
The pieces started to fall into place. He never could figure out why Judith hadn’t divorced him. They’d barely been speaking these last ten years.
Maybe staying married to him had been the price she’d had to pay to be with those Kendalls. He was convinced that one, if not both of them, were married. Hell, they’d likely been married from the start! Maybe they’d insisted she stay legally married herself, so she couldn’t press either of them to get a divorce.
It sure as hell would be what he would do, what he had done, in fact. He’d had himself a married mistress. Things were less sticky all around that way.
If that was what had happened—and the more he thought about it the more certain he became that it was—that would have been another way for them to keep the shit off their own front porch.
Maybe what I have to do is bring this shit storm to them for a change. Rich fucking bastards. He wondered how the two Mrs. Kendalls would feel if they found out their husbands had not only had a lover, but had gotten her pregnant, too, and kept her to themselves all these years.
It was unfortunate he didn’t know for certain which one of them had boffed ol’ Judith and planted his seed in her. Hell, they probably both had fucked her. In fact, uncertainty could play to his advantage, here. He’d tell the ladies that he couldn’t be sure which one of their husbands’ cocks had produced Judith’s three little bastards.
But one of them had, and if those men didn’t want their entire town in an uproar or their wives to tie their balls in a knot, they’d best be paying him for the years of marital bliss he’d been denied.
Mort rubbed his hands together. He couldn’t afford to fly to Texas, but he could drive there. And he knew just who to ask for a car. Smitty owed him, big-time. It was time to pay the piper. For everyone who fucking owed him.
* * * *
The time is going too quickly. Samantha awoke early Friday morning with the same thought that had followed her into sleep the night before. Her car was promised for late tomorrow, and having spoken to Mr. Jessop yesterday, she knew it was going to be ready on time.
She was due in Austin on Monday, and because she had given her word, she knew she would have no choice but to go there.
She would have no choice but to leave Lusty and these men.
“You’re thinking very loudly, kitten.”
Lying on her stomach, the scent of man was in the air and on her skin. Preston’s sleep-husky voice shivered through her, and just like that, she felt her pussy get wet.
“I don’t know how to think more quietly,” she said.
“Well, then, what we need to do,” Charlie said, “is make it so that you’re not thinking at all.”
A slow grin spread across her lips. That sounded promising. Movement on the bed alerted her moments before masculine hands spanned her waist and she was being turned from lying face-down to lying supine.
They arranged themselves around her—Preston on her right, Charlie on her left, and Taylor, with that definite twinkle in his eye, knelt at the foot of the bed.
When she met his gaze he winked, took hold of her ankles, and separated her legs. Then he crawled up between them and fastened his mouth on her cunt.
“Oh, Taylor!” Samantha arched her back, the arousal so hot and fast that she whimpered even as she surrendered to it. Tuesday, Preston had been the first man ever to give her oral sex, and since then, it had become her new favorite form of foreplay. The sensations thrilled her, and she couldn’t get enough of them. Moaning and mewling, she pressed her cunt to his face.
He moved, gained his knees, spread her legs open wider and hooked them over his arms. Then he held her in place with his hands gripping her hips.
Her bottom was off the bed, and the pleasure was so fierce, she truly felt as if he forced it upon her. That element made his intimate kiss even more exciting.
“Look at the way passion writes itself on her face,” Charlie said. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.”
Samantha didn’t care that they were talking about her—they were there, a part of this, and she knew, she knew, that making love would never again be the same for her.
She needed all three of these men in order to feel complete.
Then Taylor moved again, lifted his right hand from her hips and brought it to her pussy. He slid two fingers into her, stroking her, and sucked her clit into his mouth.
Samantha cried out as she came, as the glorious rapture rushed through her, the shivers and the excitement both real and addicting. She came and came and wanted it never to end.
Taylor placed tiny kisses on her stomach as he lowered her legs to the bed. He took the condom Preston gave him, put it on, and then crawled up her body.
He didn’t speak. He met then held her gaze as he thrust into her.
Taylor gave her no time to recover, but began to thrust inside her, hard and fast and deep. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Wrapping herself around him, arms and legs, she thrust with him, meeting his pace and urging him to go faster and harder.
She could smell her juices on his face. Licking her lips, she raised her chin, and then opened her mouth for his kiss when he granted her silent request.
Dark and delicious, this kiss more than any other fed an animalistic hunger in her. Arousal became desperation, a fierce force that screamed for satisfaction. She ran her hands down Taylor’s back until she reached his ass. She squeezed, a little shocked with herself when she let her fingernails bite into him.
He growled, slid his hands under her ass, and pulled her even harder into his thrusts. He changed the angle of his penetration, and Samantha cried out as she felt something inside come to vibrant, orgasmic life. Clinging to him, she rode the wave of her climax, jubilant when he joined her in the fall.
Perspiration covered her, his and her own. Samantha fought for breath. They really were running out of time and that sense of impending doom pushed inside her, became a renewed craving for more, and still more.
She heard the sound of distress in her whimper. Unable to put her emotions into words, she ran her hands down Taylor’s back and then reached out a hand for Charlie.
“Yes, love, I’m here.”
Charlie’s sweetly gentle tone made her want to grab hold of him and take greedily. He must have read her thoughts in her eyes. The moment Taylor raised himself from her, Charlie reached for her. He brought her close, then lifted her onto him. “Ride, sweet baby. Ride me and take what you need from me.”
How could a man be so selfless and so sweet? Samantha straddled him. Reaching down, she surrounded his sheathed cock with her hand, and brought it to the opening of her body. She took him in, sliding until she had him all, until his cockhead hit her cervix.
In his eyes she saw love, so much love that her heart melted and her conscience pinched. His wonderful, giving nature eased some of the anxiety seething inside her. Needing to give to him, to share with him, she bent to him and laid her lips on his. The sweet and succulent kiss slid to saucy and seductive in a heartbeat. Opening her mouth, she let him in, and when his tongue stroked hers, when it brushed her teeth, she melted into him.
Charlie seized the moment as he seized her. One hand splayed on her head, his fingers tight against her scalp. The other banded her ass, his hot grip at once protective and possessive. He thrust up, and began to move in and out of her body with a power she could only call masterful. And then, yes, all thought ceased and she simply felt. He played her, strumming all the right notes, sending shivers up her spine. He brushed against her clit and she cried out with joy as tiny little explosions sent bursts of pure ecstasy cascading through her.
“Come on me, Samantha. Drench me with your cum.”
Sparks
and lightning bolts enveloped her as her rapture burst, a panorama of celebration so brilliant, so hot, she felt charged and changed.
Every muscle had been turned to molten honey. Collapsing on him, she gasped for breath, and grasped for reason, for resolve, for the woman she had been before she’d taken that wrong turn and found these men.
“My turn.” Preston lifted her, but only high enough that Charlie’s sated cock could slide out of her body.
“I’m going to take your ass, kitten.”
Their anal play had aroused her, every time. She’d wondered when they would want more—for she wanted to give more.
Physically, she wanted to give them everything.
It’s just the emotions you’re trying to hold back. Just the official commitment as you hold yourself to a standard that no longer exists.
The voices needed to be silenced. They were tearing her apart. She knew only one way to do that. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass, Preston. Please.” Samantha lifted herself slightly, offering herself to him, submitting to him. She wanted her inner voice to stop, to leave her alone, to let her just live in this moment, to just be with these men in the here and now.
Lube-covered fingers brushed over her anus, back and forth. There was nothing tentative in this touch, nothing soft or pleading.
Preston let her know his intentions with every stroke of his fingers. He breached her rosebud, thrusting two digits into her, working them in and out and in a circle.
“We’re in charge here, woman. Let go of your thoughts. Take what we give you. Submit.”
“Yes, Preston.” Two words, one will, and the voice inside quieted. Her heart thudded in her chest as she gave him complete control, as she obeyed without reservation that simple, yet complex command.
He eased his fingers from her, and then moved closer, moved in, and grasped the cheeks of her ass. Heat, incredible heat brushed against then pushed on her rosebud and she sighed, her body eager for this final surrender.
“Ours. No matter what happens tomorrow, or in all the tomorrows yet to come, sweet Samantha, you are ours.”
Their Lusty Little Valentine [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 17
