Love Under Two Bad Boys

by Cara Covington

  “Just your time and the investment of that keen mind of yours,” Connor said.

  “I have no cases pending because I received an unexpected completion bonus from Mrs. Featherstone and thought to take a break,” April sighed. “A break to see if there was something here for me. I need to make a trip to Austin to pack up my stuff. I’ve been invited to share this house, and I’d already decided to accept that. Once I’m back, I’ll be ready to start.”

  “Excellent. Now all that’s left is to discuss money, some of the cases we’ve got pending, and one of the ways Richardson, Talbot, and Bixby is about to branch out.”

  April listened as Mel and Connor did just that. And as they talked, the feeling grew that this—this, right here, all of this—was exactly where she’d been headed all her life.

  She was eager to get started, in both the personal and the professional.

  Chapter Seven

  “The news? Ah, man, Robbie get that shit off of there!”

  Jeremy grinned in response to Andrew Jessop’s plea, made the instant he entered his oldest brother’s den.

  “Yeah, brother, what the hell? We’re not looking for reality. We’re here to watch football!” Grant’s announcement, groused in support of his closest and younger-by-one-year brother, didn’t have the desired effect. “And I don’t care if it is the pre-season, our Texans are gonna humiliate your Cowboys.”

  “Well, just for that, I’ll turn the volume up, you cretins.” Robert’s smile was all big-brother mean.

  “You have to stay informed on what’s happening in the world.” David, Robert’s wombmate and best friend, jumped right in.

  Marc, sitting next to Jeremy, snorted. “I can tell you what’s happening in the world,” Marc said. “I’m more than happy to save you time and heartache. I’ve been out in it for the last ten years, and I’ve gathered intel. So here it is, in a nutshell. The world is fucked up, going to hell in the proverbial handbasket. That’s the official six p.m. newscast.”

  “Here, here.” Grant and Andrew raised their beer bottles in salute to their youngest brother’s pronouncement.

  “See, Robbie?” Grant asked. “We don’t need the news. We’ve got Marc.”

  “Better not let Grandma Kate know you’re all a bunch of gloomy Guses,” Robert said. “You know how she feels about negativity.”

  Jeremy thought the banter was funny as hell and, despite Robert’s pronouncement on being informed, more or less distracted everyone from the news.

  Of course, Jeremy was still reeling from the way he’d been so openly welcomed by all four of Marc’s brothers.

  No one was really paying attention to the news, of course. Jeremy’s attention was all over the room.

  “So, is your wife the same place as our wife is?” Grant asked Robert. “Grandma Kate was having some sort of movie day or something at the Big House.”

  “Yes, Jillian and Colleen are there. But they’re not watching a movie. They’re watching the same thing we’ll be watching—the Cowboys take on the Texans.”

  “That’s where April went, too,” Jeremy said. “In fact, she’d said she had committed to be there when I tried to get her to join us.”

  The brothers thought that was funny. Well, all but Andrew. He looked at Jeremy. “Do you know why it is the women like to all get together on their own to watch the game rather than see it with us?”

  “Less flatulence in the room?” Jeremy asked.

  Andrew frowned. “That’s one I didn’t think of. You’re probably right on that. But no, the reason we were given was that, according to our sweet little Chloe, we’re knuckle-draggers, every last one of us. Whatever that is.”

  Jeremy thought of the way men typically were, watching a game they were emotionally invested in.

  Chloe has a point.

  Beside him, Marc stiffened, his entire body tense. Jeremy turned to ask him what was wrong and saw his attention was riveted on the television. The newscast was almost over, but Jeremy focused, wondering what had put his lover on high alert. What’s triggered your PTSD, love?

  On screen, a pompous-looking man stood in front of a couple of microphones. Clearly the man was giving some sort of news conference. Jeremy focused on the newscast.

  “Congressman Kardigan, what do you have to say to the charges that your recent bill in the house is motivated by your own presidential aspirations?”

  The camera focused in closer on Kardigan, with one other man in the shot. This man, not even aware he’d been captured for the evening newscast, looked on from behind the congressman with what Jeremy could only term adoration.

  “What do I have to say? Look at my legislative history! Look at any interview I’ve ever given. This isn’t a game I’m playing, ladies and gentlemen. This is serious. I am serious. Maybe I should run for president. It’s time we brought our troops—all our troops—home from a conflict we’ve been stuck in for more than a decade, one that really is none of our damn business. We have no business shedding blood and treasure on foreign soil for foreign gains, for countries who don’t care enough about their own destinies to fight their own battles. If the people in that part of the world can’t live in peace, we’d all be better off if they just slaughtered the hell out of each other and got it over with.”

  The camera panned back to show the reporter who’d asked that question, now shown with the backdrop of the U.S. Capitol dome behind her. “As you can see, Congressman Kardigan’s even more strident in his isolationist views than he’s ever been—fueling even stronger murmurings of a possible 2020 run. Jared, back to you.”

  “Babe?” Jeremy kept his voice down as the rest of the Jessops, unaware of their youngest brother’s distraction, carried on with their mutual ribbing and teasing.

  “Yeah?” Marc slowly turned his head until Jeremy could meet his gaze. He blinked, and it was as if he’d been under a spell that had just dissipated.

  “What was that all about?” Jeremy asked.

  “Hmm?” But Marc looked back at the television screen where the news was ending and the football preshow about to begin. “I don’t know. I kind of had a small flashback to being in that dank room, but I have no clue what triggered it.”

  Jeremy thought about what the congressman had said. His words had been more than a little belligerent, in Jeremy’s point of view. Then he thought of the topic—about getting Americans out of Afghanistan and all points east. He’d heard some of the militants in that part of the world spewing the same views—nearly word for word—as the U.S. Congressman had shared.

  “Maybe it was Kardigan’s tone,” Jeremy ventured. “He sounded pretty aggressive—almost violently so.”

  Marc’s eye roll told him his lover was back to normal. “Yeah, like I’ve never dealt with violent rhetoric before.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t know, love. I never know when something is going to trigger a flashback or a reaction. And after it’s over, I can’t always put my finger on what caused it.”

  “I’m the only one who noticed, but only because I’m tuned in to you. So don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

  “I never doubted it.”

  The pregame show began, and the rest of the Jessops picked their chairs, all six of them a cadre of fans facing the enormous screen in Robert and David’s man-cave.

  The doctors were rooting for the Dallas Cowboys, and the firefighters were cheering for the Houston Texans.

  “Who are you guys pulling for?”

  “The Packers.” Jeremy grinned and then high-fived Marc because his lover had said that with him.

  “No, no, no,” Robert said. “There will be no chants of ‘go pack, go.’ Not in this house.”

  “Not ever?”

  “Well, maybe if the Texans were playing the Packers. Maybe then. Sorry, Jeremy, you’re going to have to pick another cheer.”

  “In that case, I think we better pull out the big guns,” Marc said.

  “Are you sure? The big guns?” Jeremy gave the room his best “shocked face.”


  “Trust me. I know these men.” Marc looked around the room. “Nothing but the big guns will do in this situation.”

  Jeremy doubted Marc’s brothers could read him. He’d only known Marc for a handful of years but knew he was likely far different than the young man who’d left Lusty, idealism mixing with the blood that had flowed through his veins.

  It would likely be as hard for his brothers to grasp the manner of man Marc was now, deep down as it was for him to imagine his lover as blindly idealistic.

  Marc had told him it was so, so of course he had no doubt.

  Jeremy knew his role in this two-man skit. “What is the situation again?”

  Marc displayed his horrified disbelief face. “They’ve forbidden you your close-to-the-heart-and-soul Packers chant!”

  “Ah, yes. You’re right. The big guns!”

  They stood as one. Jeremy aped a body-builders pose-down pose, his expression fierce as his clenched fists met in front of his waist. “Oskie wee wee!”

  Marc assumed the front double biceps pose, and in his case, those biceps were impressive. “Oskie wa wa!”

  Jeremy saw that the firefighters were gaping at them while the doctors just looked bored.

  Until they both jumped up, Robert taking Jeremy’s pose while David copied Marc’s.

  “Holy mackinaw!”

  “Eat ’em raw!

  He and Marc looked at each other and burst out laughing. The oldest brothers laughed, too, while Grant and Andrew just shook their heads.

  “No fucking way!” Marc said when he caught his breath. “No fucking way you knew that cheer.” Jeremy understood his disbelief. He’d have bet no one else in the entire town—well, except for Clay Dorchester since he’d lived in Canada for a number of years—ever would have heard of the Hamilton Tiger-Cats and their much vanted cheer.

  “Hey, five years in Chicago, baby brother,” Robert said.

  “You have to bet your ass we headed into Canada a few times to catch a football game and drink some beer.” Then David held up his bottle, a brown longneck with a blue label and the word Labatt’s blazoned across it.

  “Okay, you two old men win that one,” Marc conceded.

  “Old men my ass,” Robert said. “I’d challenge you to a round here and now, but I have the feeling you’d wipe the floor with me.”

  “We’ll have to challenge them intellectually,” David said.

  “Bring it,” Jeremy and Marc said that together and grinned.

  “If you clowns are ready,” Grant said, “can we now watch the game?”

  “Sure. Another beer, guys?” Robert asked.

  He and Marc both nodded, and in short order, each had another bottle of cold brew in his hands. Not only did that nicely break the ice but those shadows have left Marc’s eyes.

  Satisfied, Jeremy sat back with his lover, ready to watch a football game.

  * * * *

  “Are you tired, love?”

  April could see Marc’s face in the almost otherworldly bluish glow of the pickup truck cab’s dashboard lights. He and Jeremy had just picked her up from the Big House, where she’d enjoyed the company of several of the women who’d gathered to watch the Dallas Cowboys-Houston Texans ball game. She’d been pleased to have been invited and quickly learned that football among the women of Lusty was serious business.

  Too serious, they’d said, to share it with their men—even if it was only the pre-season.

  Of course, she’d seen the sly winks and nudges and knew that probably the more exact truth was they gathered there to watch so that their men could share that male ritual with fellow Y-chromosome-carrying family and friends.

  April had been hoping that tonight, finally, they were going to take their relationship to the next level. She’d wondered when they’d led her to this truck in the parking lot—a fairly new looking truck she’d never seen before.

  They’d offered no explanations.

  So April’s deep yearning formed her response to Marc’s seemingly casual question. “No, I’m not tired at all.”

  She wanted, very much, to make love with these two men. She was at the point that she didn’t care if it made her the worst brat ever. If they didn’t do something about that little thing tonight, she was going to jump their bones all on her own.

  She had every confidence that once she had one of their cocks in her mouth they’d fall in line with her plan, and enthusiastically, too.

  “Good. We’re both happy to hear you’re not tired, woman. We’ve got plans for you.”

  April’s nipples hardened, and her pussy became moist. “I’m happy you’ve got plans.”

  Marc turned just enough to meet her gaze. His smile was pure lechery, sending a shiver down her spine. “Tell me, Nancy Drew, did I thank you for doing as I asked and wearing a skirt tonight instead of jeans?”

  “I don’t believe you did.” At the time she’d thought it had been a strange request. And she hadn’t known what to think when the married women at the Big House had looked down at her skirt and smirked.

  Oh, you knew exactly what to think—or rather, what to hope.

  “Well, in that case, let me take this opportunity to thank you for following my suggestion.”

  Suggestion? It had been a command. “You’re welcome.”

  Marc drove right past the street they should have turned on to get home.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a nice night for a drive. Don’t you think?”

  The temperature had dropped a little just after sunset. It was now a balmy ninety-five degrees, according to the truck’s onboard temperature gauge.

  April opened her mouth to comment on it being after eleven and kind of late for a drive, but before she could, Marc said, “Give Jeremy your panties, please, baby.”

  He used the word “please,” but there was nothing of the request in those five words. April lifted her butt off the bench seat of the truck and reached under her skirt.

  It took her only a moment to pull the silky boy shorts down and off and then hand them to Jeremy.

  She imagined her skirt, which she ensured was still between her bottom and the leather beneath her, was going to be getting damp, now that her panties were gone.

  “They’re nice and wet,” Jeremy said. He brought the crotch of her panties to his face and inhaled.

  What a deliciously dirty thing to do.

  “I can smell you from here, April. I’m getting harder by the moment, thinking about how I’m going to sink balls deep into your cunt. Soon. Very, very soon.”

  It was all April could do not to squirm. The lights of Lusty were behind them, and she had no idea where they were or where they were going. Marc took a left, and then a right, and then another left. They didn’t come to the state highway, and April had the feeling they were almost driving in a large arc, doubling back toward Lusty. Then Marc turned onto what looked more like a path than a road—a suspicion that was confirmed when he stopped the truck in front of a fence. She didn’t think they’d pulled far enough off the road to …Marc reached up to his visor. She hadn’t seen the small box there until that moment. A green light blinked, and a gate she hadn’t known was there slowly swung open.

  Marc drove the truck through the gate and waited long enough for the gate to close behind them. Then he drove along a just barely discernable path for another few minutes. He stopped the truck and turned it off.

  Both men opened their doors at the same time. Marc slid out then extended his hand to her. She took it, and his help, as she slid across the seat beneath the steering wheel until he reached for her and lifted her down.

  She heard the sound of metal hinges working and guessed Jeremy had opened the tailgate.

  The night was as quiet as she’d expect, closing in on midnight. The moon shone down, unhidden by clouds, a mostly full moon heading toward third quarter. Marc led her toward the back of the truck.

  April tried to see into the truck box, thinking she knew what was going to happen next. She
was wrong.

  Marc positioned them so that he was standing behind her and they were facing Jeremy. As she watched, Jeremy opened his pants and freed his cock—his very erect and juicy-looking cock. “Doesn’t his cock look yummy, April?”

  Her heart raced, her nipples tightened, and her pussy got even wetter. “Mmm, yes, it does.”

  Marc kissed the side of her neck, and she shivered. “This is what’s known as a scene, starting right now.”

  “Do I get a safe word?”

  “You don’t need one. This time.” She heard the amusement in his voice. “In fact, the only words you need are ‘yes, Marc.’”

  “Yes, Marc.”

  “Put your left hand on the tailgate for balance, move your feet shoulder width apart, bend over, and suck our lover’s cock into that sexy-as-hell mouth of yours. Feel free to use your right hand to give our Jeremy an enhanced experience by playing with his balls.”

  His words alone had her on the edge. “Yes, Marc.”

  April felt Marc’s hands slide down her body as she moved her feet apart and bent from the waist. His hand caressed her skirt-covered ass as she grasped Jeremy’s cock in her right hand. In what light there was she saw a small glistening jewel in the center of his cockhead. She wished she could take some time to examine this hot, hard part of Jeremy Bishop. She promised herself that treat later. Right now, she’d been given very precise instructions by her other lover, and while she’d relish being a brat, that time wasn’t now. With her mouth watering, she used her tongue to steal that tiny gem. He tasted salty and sexy, and she wanted more.

  April sucked Jeremy’s cock inside her mouth.

  Jeremy groaned, a lusty sound of pleasure. He thrust his hips slightly and combed his fingers through her hair, holding her head steady.

  Marc tossed her skirt up, baring her ass, and ran his fingers through her sopping folds. His fingers left her, and she heard the sound of his sucking them, and then his latex-covered cock nestled, nudged, and then pushed into her cunt to the max.