Mustang Sally: Hot Rods, Book 2
Page 15
Eli had no right to wish for the same. Yet lately, each time he looked at the half dozen guys and girl he considered his grease monkey family, he found himself sporting a hard-on stiff enough to jack up a tank with. Thankfully, the oblivious gang hadn’t identified the source of his recent frustration. Though they certainly had borne the brunt of his bad temper, adding guilt to the unslakable arousal stripping his gears, leaving him spinning his wheels.
Stuck and stranded. Alone with his dirty little secret.
Except for Alanso.
Why had that mechanic been the one to witness Joe and his crew’s alternative loving along with Eli? Probably because they went most everywhere together. Eli shoved the memory of his right-hand man’s right hand from his mind. Or at least he tried. The guy had tortured Eli with greedy pumps of his trembling fist while the crew’s foreman, Mike, demonstrated just how hot it could be to take on one of his own. By screwing Joe while the mechanics had stared, in awe of the power exchange.
Eli knew that if he slammed Alanso against the 426 inch engine block of that 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T coupe, the man would spread and welcome him.
Boss, friend…brother.
And that’s where the fantasy turned to battery acid, burning Eli’s insides with the bitter taste of responsibility and logic.
How could he want a guy he considered family? How could he violate that trust?
He couldn’t afford to lose Alanso.
Not from his business, definitely not from his life.
So he could never seize what he craved. Frustration bubbled over.
“What’s taking so long, Diaz?” Eli knocked thick, bunched biceps with the tool he carried. “We’re trying to make a profit here, you know?”
Alanso couldn’t seem to wipe his glare away as easily as he rid his brow of the moisture dotting it. He snatched the wrench from Eli and returned to his task without taking the bait. If Eli couldn’t screw, the least the guy could do was give him the courtesy of engaging in a decent fight. His teeth ground together.
“You hear me, huevón? This isn’t some charity case. Hot Rods is a business. Don’t spend all day on a five-hundred-dollar job.” Eli thumped the hood, knowing how the impact would reverberate.
Alanso’s shoulders tensed. The clench of muscles along his spine altered the shape of his tattoos. Still, he said nothing about the low blow—or how he’d repaid the Londons a million times over for their hand-up through a solid decade of friendship and loyalty—and continued about his job. One he was damn fine at performing. No one could make an engine purr like Alanso.
“You want half-assed, go hire a motorman from the chain in town.” He didn’t bother to acknowledge Eli with a look.
Still, as Alanso’s boss and best friend, Eli knew that tone well enough. It’d be accompanied by Al’s tattooed middle finger sticking up along that wrench, he’d bet.
The defiance made Eli long to grab the other man’s chin and force him to gaze up. Maybe then Alanso would see the desperation making Eli more unhinged than Mustang Sally during a particularly bad bout of PMS. God help them all.
He’d never wanted something he couldn’t have so badly before. Except maybe to heal his mom during those horrid weeks she’d spent dying.
Terror and a soul-deep pain that never entirely faded turned him into something no better than a cornered animal. Eli lashed out. “Good idea. Maybe they’d spend less time checking me out and do their goddamned work.”
A clang surprised him. He didn’t quite realize what had happened until a spark flew from the metal tool where it connected with the concrete floor of the garage. Alanso had winged the thing an inch or less from Eli’s thankfully steel-toed boot when he spun around.
He wouldn’t have missed by accident.
“Para el carajo! Maybe I should’ve done more than look. You’re obviously too hardheaded to man up and come for me. So the deal’s off the table. I’ve wasted too much time on a dude who’s in denial. You’re right about that.” Alanso sneered. “I’m tired of waiting for you to grow some cojones.”
“Keep your voice down.” Eli checked over his shoulder. Kaige and Carver didn’t so much as glance in their direction, but the stillness of their bodies made it clear they caught at least wisps of the conversation. Years of tough living had taught the men to tread lightly in conflict. At least until swinging a punch became necessary. Then it was likely to become a free-for-all.
“Joder! Now you want to shut me up. Come mierda.” Alanso scrubbed a hand over his bald head, leaving a streak of oil that tempted Eli to buff it away, maybe with his five o’clock shadow. “Wouldn’t want the rest of the Hot Rods hearing about the good life and how we’re not living it, right? They might revolt.”
“Hey, I’ve never kept anyone against their will. You all chose to stay here. With me. The door’s open.” Eli waved toward the enormous rolling metal sheets that protected the garage bays at night or when the weather turned cold. Through them, the pumps of the service station his dad had started were visible.
A flash of something miserable twisted Alanso’s usually smiling lips into a grimace. The gesture had Eli thinking of something other than what it would feel like to get a blowjob from the man. That was a first after weeks of studying that mouth.
He reached out, but it was too late. Alanso dodged, taking a step back and then another.
“You know what, Cobra.” He grabbed his crotch hard enough to make Eli wince. “You can suck it. Or, then again… No, you can’t. That checkered flag has dropped, amigo.”
Reflex, instinct, dread—something—inspired Eli to lunge for the man who turned away. Warm, moist skin met his palm.
“Get your effing hands off me.” When the engine guru pivoted, the unusual chill in his brown eyes froze Eli in his tracks. “You had your chance. You blew it. For us both. I’m out of here.”
“You’re quitting?” Eli gaped as the bottom fell out of his stomach. “Wait—”
“Hell no. I told you I’m over that bus-stop phase.” Alanso sliced his hand through the air between them. His knuckles skimmed Eli’s chest. They left a slash of fire across his heart. “I’ve got places to go and people to do. There are things I gotta learn about myself. And for the first time since we were fifteen, you’re not going to be a part of that with me. Your loss.”
“I-I’m sorry.” Eli couldn’t find a way to say what for. For violating their friendship, for wanting to destroy what they had or for acting like an ass by postponing the inevitable—he couldn’t make up his mind. “Don’t go.”
They’d drawn a crowd. Even Roman inched closer now. The tough yet quiet guy stared openly at their spectacle. Charged air had somehow tipped off Sally too. She emerged from the painting booth, crossing the bays at an alarming rate. If she got tangled up in this, Eli would never forgive himself. Of all their gang, he knew better than to trample on her emotions. Her heart would rip in two if she had any idea of the rift opening at his feet right now.
Just like his chest was hewn.
“I’m not leaving leaving, Cobra.” Alanso lowered his voice. “This is my home. I hope some things haven’t changed. Let me know if I’m no longer welcome and I’ll pack my stuff. But I can’t do this anymore. Not for another damn minute. I have to know what it’s like. To be honest about who I am and what I want. Before I lose any more respect for either of us.”
“Fine then.” Eli leaned forward before he could stop himself. The awful sensations sliding through his guts had to stop. Fast. Before the rest of the garage got caught in their crossfire. He shoved Alanso hard enough the man stumbled across the threshold before catching his balance. It felt like forcing a baby bird from the nest. He only hoped Al spread his wings fast enough. “Get the hell out. Do what you gotta do.”
Alanso mouthed a plea out of sight of the guys now wiping hands on coveralls and milling near in a semi-circle. “Come with me.”
Eli slammed his fist on the big red button on the doorframe beside him. With an ominous rattle, the metal do
or began to lower between them, severing all communication as completely as if the aluminum were a drawbridge over a monster-filled moat.
Relationship, no…but threesome, hell yes!
How to Love
© 2013 Kelly Jamieson
San Amaro Singles, Book 2
Ever since Jules’s new neighbor moved in, she’s been undressing him in her mind. Mike is the fresh inspiration she needs to make her erotic photography studio a success, if she can convince him and his equally buff roommate, Carlos, to strip for her lens. And maybe indulge in a little off-camera fun as well.
But Jules isn’t too worried. She doesn’t do relationships, but she loves men and sex—and in her experience, most men are okay with that.
Judging from the raw emotions leaping from the images in Jules’s gallery, Mike senses there’s a lot going on beneath her flirtatious, slightly cynical exterior. He and Carlos are happy in their committed relationship, but they’ve always felt there’s a piece missing. They want a woman. Jules could be that woman.
A threesome with two committed men? Sounds like an emotionally risk-free dream come true for Jules. But when they make it clear they want more, her deepest fears push to the surface. Straining bonds forged in incredible heat to the breaking point…
Warning: The book features two hot men brave enough to climb cliffs, strip naked for erotic photographs, have sex in a portrait studio and on a cliff, and who have the courage to teach a commitment-phobic woman how to love.
Enjoy the following excerpt for How to Love:
“What’s the neighbor like?” Carlos asked when Mike walked into the kitchen. He sat at the table, spooning Cheerios from a bowl to his mouth while he read the paper.
“Hot.” It was the first word that came to mind.
Carlos looked up at him and lifted one black eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Mike met his eyes and lifted one shoulder. “Oh yeah.”
“What was with the skin mag?”
Mike filled his coffee with what was left in the pot and turned it off. “It’s an art magazine,” he drawled. “She’s an artist. A photographer.”
Carlos grinned. “She takes nude pictures of men?”
“Uh…I don’t know. I assumed men and women. She gave me her card. She has a gallery. Maybe I’ll go check it out.”
Carlos eyed him. “Yeah?”
“Why not? She seemed nice. Really…sexy.”
Carlos sat back in his chair. “Well.”
Mike shrugged sheepishly. “Whatever. She lives next door. We’ll see her again.”
“No doubt. Okay. Let’s get going. My afternoon is booked for a bike trip into the hills. And what are you doing?”
Mike sighed. “Payroll.”
“Don’t pretend you’re pissed about that. You love that crap.”
Mike smiled. “Yeah. I do. But I like getting out of the office and doing something physical too.”
Heh. He’d like to do something physical, all right, something physical with his sexy next-door-neighbor. He shook his head and turned his thoughts back to their business.
“Someone’s gotta do it.” Carlos rose from the table. He picked up his bowl and set it on the counter above the dishwasher.
Mike groaned.
“What?” Carlos looked at him.
“For god’s sake, in the dishwasher! Not on the dishwasher. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Carlos put the bowl in the dishwasher. “You just love riding my ass, that’s all.” He turned back to Mike and gave him a look, a heated, sexy look with those dark eyes rimmed with long dark eyelashes.
Mike’s groin tightened. “Oh yeah,” he drawled. “You got that right.” He eyed Carlos. “Speaking of doing something physical…” He moved closer, slid his hand around the back of Carlos’s neck and pulled his face in for a kiss.
“Don’t have time, babe,” Carlos murmured against his mouth.
“Sure we do.” Mike’s other hand moved to Carlos’s hip, then around to his ass and he hauled him against him. Mike’s dick swelled and lengthened and he rubbed against Carlos, who was also getting hard. Their mouths opened against each other, tongues sliding, the kiss getting deeper and hotter. Heat rushed through Mike’s veins.
“That new neighbor got you all hot and bothered,” Carlos muttered, grabbing Mike’s face in both hands.
Mike grimaced. “Maybe a little. But I’m always hot for you. You know it.”
“Yeah. But I also know you—”
Mike cut him off with another long, heated kiss and their hardening bodies pressed tighter. “C’mon,” he said. “Come back to bed.”
“Gotta go to work.”
“We’re the bosses. We can be a few minutes late.” He slid his hands up under Carlos’s shirt, sliding his palms over smooth skin and muscle. When he found Carlos’s nipples and flicked them, Carlos groaned. Mike smiled against Carlos’s mouth. He knew all his good spots, the ones that could make him moan and drop to his knees. “Wanna suck me?”
“Always.”
Mustang Sally
Jayne Rylon
Two men will give her the ride of her life.
Hot Rods, Book 2
Salome “Sally” Rider is flooring the gas pedal of her pink ’69 Mustang, desperate to outrun the memory of two of her fellow mechanics getting busy with some bar skank on the hood of a classic car. On her custom paint job.
For years her emotions have withered while her lost boys, her Hot Rods, have grown closer than brothers. Maybe some downtime with the Powertools sexperts will help her figure out why Eli and Alanso went looking for some stranger when Sally was waiting right at the ends of their grease-smudged noses.
Sally is dead wrong about what she thought she saw, and Eli “King Cobra” London and the rest of the thoroughly rattled Hot Rods are determined to prove it. They’ll show her in the sexiest possible way that she’s not merely an interchangeable part in their well-oiled machine.
Yet just as Eli gets up the nerve to make a very indecent proposal, a ghost rises from her painful past. Threatening to slam the brakes on their future before they can get it in gear.
Warning: A sexy car wash complete with lots of studs may not be enough to clean up the pages filled with massive ménage scenes starring extra-dirty mechanics.
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Mustang Sally
Copyright © 2013 by Jayne Rylon
ISBN: 978-1-61921-339-5
Edited by Amy Sherwood
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2013
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About the Author
Look for these titles by Jayne Rylon
Also Available from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Copyright Page
ustang Sally: Hot Rods, Book 2