Wicked Times Two

by Tina Donahue

  The pain was worth the pleasure she’d seen on their faces. “Wasn’t bad.”

  Kyle winked.

  She hooked her thumb in the front pocket of her shorts so he couldn’t see her hand tremble. Her heated cheeks were another matter entirely.

  Noah strode to the photos, taking in the shots of Van Gogh and Tor’s amazing artistry. One picture showed a twentysomething guy with black ringing his eyes to make them resemble empty sockets. The tip of his nose was also black, the bottom half of his face inked to show his teeth. Overall, the design turned his face into a skull, creepy yet dramatic. Next to his photo was one of a fortyish man, bald as a newborn, who’d had the top of his head inked to resemble an open mouth showing teeth and a tongue. The image gave the illusion of depth, urging the bold to dip their fingers between those “lips”, straight through the center of his skull. A guy with bushy brown hair had shaved the back of his head. There, Van Gogh had inked a 3D image of a gorilla, teeth bared. The surrounding hair mimicked the animal’s fur. Another guy had a circle inked on his right cheek. Inside the ring were depictions of his upper teeth and tongue, making it appear as though you could see inside his mouth.

  Images on feet looked like the bones beneath the customer’s skin or laces of high-top tennis shoes. Zippers ran down spines, opened to show people within the yawning space. Monsters burst from what appeared to be opened wounds on pecs and throats, the creatures clawing the surrounding flesh.

  The women’s tats were less dramatic but equally impressive—a star inked on the roof of a mouth, gold heart tats on the sclera of an eye, a boyfriend’s name on the inside bottom lip.

  Jasmina joined Noah and Kyle as they stepped in front of the photo of a woman Tor had inked. Across her boobs was the drawing of a newborn. When she held her breasts together, she appeared to be cradling the babe.

  Jasmina slipped her hands into her back pockets, insurance against touching either man. “See anything you like?”

  Kyle shook his head slowly. “Not here.”

  Noah faced her. She locked her knees to keep from reeling. He was such a big man she had to tip up her face to meet his eyes. One step closer and they’d touch. She dug her fingers into her ass, needing to hold on to something. His quiet scrutiny was more thrilling than a thousand words.

  Kyle turned to her. Another mountain of a man, as golden as Noah was dark, pure temptation. Together, they’d be formidable in the best possible way, satisfying her with their heat and strength.

  “Excuse me, does anyone work here?”

  She pressed her nails into her right butt cheek and looked over. A middle-aged man leaned against the counter, face ruddy from the heat or too much good living, belly protruding beneath his knit sports shirt. His plaid Bermuda shorts further marked him as a tourist. She held up one finger. “Be right there.”

  “My wife wants a drawing.” He flung his hand in the general direction of a chunky older woman perusing the wall displaying Van Gogh’s and Tor’s artwork.

  “Maybe a couple,” the wife said.

  Mr. Husband rolled his eyes. “Can you help us?”

  “Absolutely.” She turned to Kyle and Noah. “As soon as I take care of this sale, I’ll bring you the binders with pictures of the other tats in them. Have a seat, please.”

  Hurrying away, she prayed her guys wouldn’t use her absence as an excuse to leave.

  * * * * *

  An hour and a half later, Noah left the parlor and gulped the soupy air. Didn’t help. He still had a monster hard-on with nowhere for the damn thing to go. “You had to tell Tor we wanted tats.”

  Kyle frowned at the sky. Dark-gray clouds pressed down. “You could have said you changed your mind.”

  Right. Noah barely had any brain cells left after looking through hundreds of designs. He finally understood what witnesses experienced in viewing endless mug shots. Everything started to look the same.

  He would have left an hour ago if not for Jasmina’s scent welding him to the spot. Baby powder, of all things. He was intimately familiar with the fragrance, his large Cuban family having no end of kids. However, her natural musk and captivating allure had put wicked into the innocent scent.

  Her effortless sensuality had marked Noah the most, sending so many bursts of heat through him, he couldn’t stop sweating or thinking about her.

  Tallish, at five-seven or so, she had a body made for sex—full boobs begging for a man’s skilled hands, sleek thighs that went on forever, shapely calves to wind around a guy’s hips as she hung on during a rough ride. Her tawny skin was flawless, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She didn’t wear makeup…didn’t need to. Youth and good genes endowed her with lovely features, her big brown eyes and plush lips enough to make a sane man drool.

  He was definitely one of those guys. Had been from the moment he’d first seen her when he’d arrested Ethan. At the time, Noah had forced himself not to stare. Months later at Lauren’s wedding, he simply hadn’t been able to stop looking at Jasmina even though he’d tried. Genie, his date, hadn’t noticed. Good thing. He wasn’t out to hurt her and had even given their relationship a few more months until their time together ended mutually, which had freed him up to come here today. Though not to get a tat.

  Kyle glanced at the parlor. “Maybe we should forget this ink shit, go back and ask her out like we’d planned.”

  That had been their intention. Friends since kindergarten, he and Kyle never fought over a woman they both liked. They approached the lady with a suggestion for a threesome. If she was into kink too, so much the better.

  They would have done the same today with Jasmina if not for running into Tor outside. When Kyle had asked if she was dating anyone special or involved at all, Tor had told them the whole sorry tale—how Brad had cheated on her after she’d been faithful to a fault and had promised to help him own a dozen McDonald’s franchises before he was forty. Heady stuff for twentysomething kids. With those plans shot to hell, Tor had insisted she needed a nice guy, someone dedicated to forever.

  At her age? Noah had wanted to laugh until he’d seen how serious Tor was when he’d explained how Jasmina was like a kid sister to him.

  A kick to Noah’s balls couldn’t have made the message any clearer. Tor wanted them to stay clear of her.

  Although Noah wasn’t easily dissuaded from what he wanted, there were some things he wouldn’t do, such as screwing around with a friend’s sister. Technically, the situation didn’t apply here. However, he and Tor were tight now and he had to consider the guy’s feelings, not to mention Jasmina’s—hers, especially. No way did he want to give her any grief after what Brad had done. Noah sure as hell couldn’t promise forever—just a mutual good time. Although he’d been ready to leave earlier, Kyle had downplayed their interest in Jasmina, blurting out that bullshit about how he and Noah wanted tats, which had given them a chance to stay there and drool over her.

  The memory of her light step and lush ass returned. His cock swelled again, wanting relief, making the day even more miserable.

  “You coming?” Kyle asked.

  “Wait.” He gripped Kyle’s forearm, keeping him from going back. “We need to think this out. Jasmina’s vulnerable.”

  “According to Tor. Clearly, the guy’s reading her wrong.”

  “He’s an artist. His temperament makes him more sensitive than we are. She probably opens up to him.”

  “Even if she confesses to him on a daily basis, didn’t you see the way she looked at us?” Kyle wiggled his eyebrows. “She was turned-on.”

  True. Noah had seen how she leaned into them, getting close and personal. The dreamy look on her face clearly said she wanted them to jump her, not exchange wedding rings. Even so, he held on to Kyle. “What’s the rush? We’ll be back here next week for our tats.”

  After looking through what seemed like five hundred designs, he’d finally found one he liked. Kyle had chosen his after the first twenty. Typical. Kyle had always been carefree, never worrying about shit
when Noah weighed the pros and cons of everything.

  “We can see her when we come back, feel her out, make our move—if that’s what she wants. A threesome—or even friends with benefits—isn’t for everyone, all right? If she goes eww even once or makes any kind of a face, everything’s off. I’m not in this to gross out anyone or hurt them…especially her.”

  And I am? Kyle pulled his arm away but then quickly lifted his hands before Noah grabbed him by the throat. “Fine, we’ll wait. Relax.”

  “I’m not uptight.”

  Both of them had been walking bowlegged from the boners they’d sported, pain from endless arousal bunching their shoulders.

  Kyle rolled his, sighing in relief when a bone in the right side cracked. “How do you propose we bring up a threesome?”

  Noah rubbed the back of his neck then wiped off his sweaty fingers on his jeans. The humidity was brutal, the temperature punishing. After slipping on his shades, Noah curled his upper lip at the sun trying to bleed through a break in the heavy clouds. “Carefully is my guess. Yours?”

  Kyle was for cutting through the crap and laying things out. Being blunt was in his DNA, the same as his dad, grandad, uncles and most of his aunts. They were all cops who barked orders, expecting stuff to happen on command. Growing up in such an environment, he was used to that kind of behavior. Meeting Noah’s extended family had come as quite a shock. They were quiet, even the kids, pondering every aspect of a situation, thinking endlessly before reacting, always trying to do the right thing.

  Fucking exhausting, but Kyle loved those people. Their house had become a sanctuary from his own, and Noah had hit it off with Kyle’s family too. In fact, Kyle’s dad had gotten Noah and Kyle interested in becoming cops. Of course, getting Mr. and Mrs. Guzman on board had taken some effort. Noah’s parents had wrung their hands and asked endless questions about bullets, bad guys, gangland wars…you name it. To Kyle’s relief, his dad hadn’t laughed once. He’d explained how West Palm Beach wasn’t Miami by any means. Service here was a breeze compared to the major cities with their drugs and endless murders. Their boy would be fine.

  Seven years into Noah’s career, his mom and dad still worried and always patted Kyle on the back, thanking him for keeping an eye out for their son.

  If they’d only known… As kids, Noah had beaten up several bullies who’d picked on both of them. Kyle had done his share of rumbling. Once they’d hit puberty and gotten big, no one bothered either of them. They could definitely take care of themselves, unless the matter involved women.

  “Are you saying let Jasmina make the first move?” Kyle asked.

  “Everything would be easier if she did. Think of it. We joke around with her, have fun but hold off with the moves. She gets all hot, takes charge, we—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kyle slipped on his shades. “How much time are we talking here?” He gestured to his fly. “I’m hurting.”

  “Fine. Spit out what you want and see how far you get with her. She’s not a hookup at a club, looking for action. If that’s what you want, get a quickie from an old girlfriend—preferably one who hasn’t put out a hit on you.”

  Kyle made a face. “I’ve never treated any woman badly. Several of those babes took off when I wouldn’t commit or we stopped having fun.”

  “Exactly. You let them decide. We do the same with Jasmina.”

  Kyle turned back to the parlor. He was still close enough to see past the window into the guts of the place. Tor had a client in the front chair, a beefy dude getting a tat on his chest. What had happened to the old guy married to dearly departed Sheila? Maybe he’d passed out in the back from the pain of his tat.

  As Tor worked on the new client, a few tourists and locals gathered to watch from the sidewalk. Kyle glanced past them at the other customers waiting to get inked. Van Gogh, who wore his usual somber expression, motioned one of the women toward the hall. When he and she passed, several other clients left the building. Kyle stepped to the left for a better view and spotted Jasmina. His chest tightened instantly, making breathing difficult. A surge of heat hit him full on, settling in his groin. Somehow, the pain of his persistent erection made him smile this time.

  Damn, she was sultry without trying, not coming on strong like some of the other women he knew. She had an inviting attitude, making a man feel comfortable being himself.

  Brad must have been a first-class lunatic to screw around on her. According to Tor, she hadn’t accepted the guy’s apology. They were done. Over. Kaput. No second chances.

  Good for her for not being a doormat. Kyle admired confidence in a woman and figured Tor better watch his step if he planned to interfere in her life. The looks Jasmina was giving him now. Damn. Her clenched jaw was a dead giveaway as to how irritated she was. Tor was probably going to get a talking-to before this day was over.

  “You’re right,” Kyle said to Noah. “We should let Jasmina come to her own decision.”

  He sensed she’d already made one concerning them.

  Chapter Two

  Jasmina caught up with Tor in the back room where staff took breaks or ate. The scents of pepperoni pizza and arroz con pollo lingered from lunches. Enrique Iglesias’s Bailando played on the sound system.

  Blissfully unaware of her presence, Tor bent at the waist, his head in the fridge. Soda cans tapped each other and made scraping noises over the plastic shelving as he pushed the beverages aside.

  “Where in the hell…?” He paused and made a contented sound.

  No doubt he’d found the soft drink he’d been looking for. Jasmina stood on the other side of the refrigerator door, arms crossed beneath her breasts.

  Tor eased back, straightened and swung the door closed. Seeing her, he flinched, a can of Dr. Pepper to his throat. “Jeezus.” He breathed hard, his black tank top rippling over his chiseled abs and pecs. A gladiator tat trailed over his biceps. “Wear a bell or something so you don’t give people a heart attack.”

  “Sorry.” She got in his face. “What did you say to Noah and Kyle about me while you guys were outside?”

  Tor’s cheeks reddened beneath his tan, proving her suspicions. He turned to Van Gogh, who’d just shuffled into the breakroom.

  As always, Van Gogh wore a gloomy expression, as though he carried the weight of the world in his balls.

  Jasmina smiled sweetly. “We’re having a private meeting. Can you come back later?”

  Van Gogh stopped, his gaze shooting to Tor before returning to her. Without a word, he pivoted and left the room.

  Such a sweet guy. Cute too since he’d bulked up and let his hair grow out. Losing her smile, Jasmina faced Tor. “Exactly what did you tell Kyle and Noah about me? No, wait.” She held up her hand to stop him from answering. “Why would you discuss me with them to begin with?”

  Tor opened his Dr. Pepper, the drink fizzing noisily. The prominent ridge in his throat bobbed as he guzzled the soda. He held back a belch, his face scrunching with the effort. “Trust me, that wasn’t my plan. They asked about you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her insides went gooey with delight, her brain turning to mush. “What did they want to know? Why didn’t you tell them to talk to me? Why take it upon yourself to interfere in anything that concerns my life?” She frowned. “Do you think I’m incapable of handling myself around men?”

  He backed away. “You’re doing fine with me.”

  “Come on, I want an answer. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are, which is why I told them to back off from you.”

  “What?”

  Tor put out his hand before she could get any closer. “I know how you’ve been since Brad. I didn’t want to see you like that again.”

  She tapped her foot. “Like what?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “A zombie, all right? You dragged around here acting like he’d sucked the life from you. Finally, you’re getting back to normal and now this?” He shook his head. “Didn’t want to risk it.”

  “Have you lost your
mind?” She gritted her teeth. “What gives you the right to interfere?”

  Tor blinked. “We’re friends. I care what happens to you.”

  Sounded as though he was more concerned about himself, having to work with the walking dead when her love affairs went south.

  He lifted his shoulders. “You’re like a sister to me. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Aw, crap. She threw her arms around him, hugging him to show her thanks for him caring so much about her. He stiffened then relaxed.

  She squeezed. “Thanks.”

  “You bet.”

  After pulling away, she slapped his shoulder.

  “Ow. What the hell was that for?”

  “Interfering. Don’t. Ever…even though what you did was really sweet.” She stroked the part of him she’d smacked. “I don’t need a big brother. I’ve got six of my own, okay? What did Noah and Kyle ask about me?”

  Tor knocked back his soda, making her wait for an answer. Finished, he crushed the empty can and shrugged. “Kyle wanted to know if you were dating anyone, but Noah looked interested too.”

  The world brightened exponentially, colors, scents, sounds becoming sharper, hope winging her way…for a split second. “And you warned them away because you didn’t want to see me hurt. Why? What’s wrong with them?”

  “Besides being horny?”

  That was a given and a gift she couldn’t wait to receive. “Are they players? I don’t mind for myself. I’m not in this for love. Not anymore. I just want to have a good time. But no damn way am I going to hurt another woman if she’s deeply involved with either of them. They told me they were free. Are they?”

  Tor wrinkled his nose. “I told them to back off and they still got personal with you?”

  “I grilled them, all right? Answer my question—are they free?”

  He lifted his hands. “I guess. I didn’t ask for details of their love lives. None of my business.” He dropped his hands and regarded her. “Which one of them are you interested in?”

  That again. “Their love lives aren’t your business but mine is?”