“Oh, yeah, get it ready for me.” Brad stared at her hand sinking, fucking her moist folds.
She moaned, the feeling of being watched so alluring, she was bubbling wet. Dale dipped his finger in her cunt and brought his shiny fingertip to her lips.
“Lick it,” he told her.
Oh, God. She did. She sucked his whole finger and wondered how she’d survive this night. They were raw, animal-like, and she couldn’t get enough. She was hooked, obsessed with a primal need for them.
Dale’s hand turned her face so he could cover her mouth in a kiss meant to curl her toes. His tongue teased her lips, her teeth, then dove in to leave her fighting for air.
But she ached for more. Her pussy clenched, searching, needing.
“Brad,” she moaned.
“Tell me,” he countered heavily. “Look at me.”
She did. Still resting between Dale’s legs, she locked eyes with Brad towering over her. Shamelessly, she watched her gladiator work his muscles, flexing and tensing, to please her, to dominate her. And he did, oh so easily.
“Fuck my pussy. Please,” she whimpered.
Brad pushed in and out faster, grunting, and then he was out. He ripped off his condom and then pulled her hand out of the way.
“Eyes on me.” His voice was deep and husky.
She met his glazed eyes and felt a burn in her stomach when he slowly filled her.
“Oh, sí, sí,” she cried out, a million explosions popping through the length of her pussy.
Watching the predatory hunger, the darkness he controlled in his blue eyes, was as erotic as the fucking itself.
Dale kneaded her mounds again, pinching her nipples, rolling his palms over them. “Watch his dick, Isabel. Look at it fill you, stretch your lips open. Watch it pull out, coated, glistening with your sugary cream.”
Isabel was spinning, so aroused, so alive. Oh, so free.
“What do you want to tell him?” Dale asked.
She licked her lips and, looking at Brad, answered. “Fuck me harder. Take me.”
* * * *
Brad sunk into an inferno and ravaging fires ran in his veins, willing him to lose control. Violent forces whirled and collided with the swooping arms of protectiveness. Her small body demolished his thrusts, absorbing his pounding in the deep, saturated sponges of her cushioned walls. Her feminine eyes—seductive, angelic—were glazed with the heat of a sex fiend.
Isabel had sucked his dick with a hunger that washed away his ability to speak. But he didn’t let her make him come. Then he’d fucked her ass and watched her play with her succulent pussy. Now she begged him to take her. Damn it, she matched his need, met his challenge. Even when she gave in and begged him to take her, she welcomed everything else he unleashed upon her.
“That’s my princess,” he rasped.
He didn’t know how much longer he’d last, but he sure as hell wasn’t finished. He slowed down, slow enough that it was agony pulling out, slow enough to see her arch her back in frustration.
She circled her hands around Dale’s neck and pushed her hips up, but Brad continued his sweet torture. Her breasts were fascinating by the pool lights, casting moving shadows over her lithe figure. Her nipples thrust in the air as her tits bounced up and down in a rhythmic wave that intoxicated his senses.
Her body undulated, and he slowly drove in, lost in the feelings of her tight walls expanding for his widening shaft. She moaned, and he fought the urge to slam inside her. His hands moved down her soft thighs, over her slim hips, and he rubbed a thumb over her swollen clit. Her pussy squeezed around him, and she sucked in her breath, pushing her tits up in the air again.
Brad moved as slowly as the waves in the pool, formed by the slight warm breeze from the ocean. He smelled her addictive essence, sweet and gentle. He clenched his jaw, telling himself to hang on. His balls tightened and his heart was close to breaking a rib. Every breath he took was one breath closer to the most powerful climax he’d had. He knew it.
“You’re ours, Isabel,” he grumbled.
“Sí, yes,” she moaned, writhing and bucking her hips.
“Tell me,” he said, amazed he could talk.
“Oh, I’m yours. I’m. Yours.”
“And you’ll. Listen. Next time. And not. Argue.”
“Sí. Plea–please.”
He finally took the devil’s road, flexing and thrusting faster, deeper. His breathing raced, his heart pounded his ribs, and he felt her rupture around him.
Her liquid silk poured around his cock, her orgasm a blast of convulsions stroking, milking his rod.
Her pussy clenched around his dick, and he stroked the back of her pussy while sweat poured down his back. A current shot from his balls, and he exploded as white lights burst behind his closed lids. He couldn’t move. It hurt to breathe. And every bit of his being belonged to this woman.
* * * *
Isabel’s stomach grumbled, bringing her back to life. Her back shook as Dale chuckled from somewhere under her, and Brad dropped a kiss on her thigh.
“Time to feed you, beautiful,” Dale said softly, moving all her matted hair away from her face and gathering it to one side.
“Hmm,” she mumbled. That was as much as she could muster.
“Dinner time,” said Brad from somewhere.
Then she was flying, cradled in someone’s strong arms and whisked away somewhere.
“Brad, you clean up out here. I’ll wash her up.” Dale’s chest vibrated against her cheek as he carried her inside the house.
Isabel snuggled closer to the warmth of his protective body, but she was laid on her bed. She heard Dale move around her room and start her shower. A minute later, he held her under the warm water cascading down her flushed body. He lathered soap and washed her while she quietly admired one of her two sexual warriors, and her body sagged against his, sated.
He truly was extraordinary, his body so carefully chiseled, and the way it had taken possession of her ass burned her belly. She’d watched him for a brief moment, but it had been an erotic voyage into his well-guarded sexual dominance. He’d been gritting his teeth, his lips parted, and he’d looked at her with eyes so glazed with dark supremacy she’d begged him to fuck her, to show her his true strength as a lover. And oh, how he’d delivered. His body had flexed with each thrust, the muscles of his arms gripping her hips had bulged, and those of his chest and stomach had snapped under his sweaty, bronzed skin.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, running the sponge over her bruised mounds.
She moaned, closing her eyes, and held on to his narrow hips. “Mmm, so are you.”
He washed her hair and kissed her lips in a nonsexual, soothing way. She smiled, enjoying this post-ménage treatment, getting more spoiled by the second, wishing it would never end.
But much too soon, he wrapped her, then himself, in warm towels and carried her to the edge of the bed.
She flinched when she tried sitting, her ass extremely sensitive still.
“It’ll be tender tonight and probably tomorrow. I’m so sorry,” Dale murmured as he stood by the bed and combed her hair.
She sighed and shifted her weight on her thigh. “I’m not.”
When she leaned her head on his flat stomach and wrapped her hand around his leg, he cleared his throat.
“I have to go warm up dinner. You okay now?”
The sudden shift was unexpected and awkward, but she nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
He returned her smile, his dazzling dimples in full view and left the room. Damn, her body ached, but the memory of what they’d done, of how she’d begged for it, brought a hot blush to her face.
She’d always prided herself in being on her own, taking care of herself and her business. But since Brad and Dale burst into her life, everything she knew and believed in had been flipped on its head. No matter how hard she tried to regain some sense of control, of independence, she’d gladly gave it up for a touch, a kiss—for them.
It wo
uld be difficult to walk away when the killer was caught, that she knew for sure. They’d probably ask her to stay. But how could she live with two men? Her dad hadn’t been around to tell her what to do, and now she had two macho men dictating her every move. But the problem was she liked it. No, that wasn’t true. She liked them. A lot. Okay, it was bordering on love.
How could she live with two men she liked—a lot, bordering on love—when they didn’t feel the same? Could she live with them as their sex toy? Maybe, but she’d be miserable. She wanted a commitment. She needed to know she was their only one. She couldn’t, wouldn’t take anything less.
So stay strong and get through this short visit. Enjoy the sex. Don’t expect more.
She checked her reflection in the dresser mirror in front of her. The small bruise didn’t bother her anymore, not the pain or the sight of it. But she looked deeper to the woman inside who’d gone from independent and naïve with a crush on two old neighbors to a woman who now craved their threesome, begged to be fucked, and knew she was falling for them. Heaven help her.
The smell of a succulent, familiar dish drifted into her room and her stomach complained. She found Brad and Dale, shoulders bare, jeans hanging low on their hips, moving around the kitchen, setting up dinner on the table.
Her mouth watered with another hunger that surprised her. Jeez, she’d just had them, in every orifice. But, oh, they are decadent. Their muscles moved gracefully under all that tanned skin. Brad took a playful jab at Dale’s side, and Brad’s bicep curled, bulging. Dale’s ripped abs flexed.
“Princess, please sit. We think you’ll like what Dale cooked up tonight,” Brad said as he reached for glasses.
Isabel blinked, snapping out of it. Curious, she sat and watched Dale grin as he set a bowl in front of her. Her mouth opened, and she looked up at Dale.
“Asopao de pollo?”
He chuckled. “I hope you like my version of your chicken and rice soup.”
She bit her lip and eyed the soup again. “I love it.”
“You haven’t even tasted it, love.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have to. You made a traditional Puerto Rican dish for me.” She met his eyes. “Thank you.”
He gave her a tender look that caused her heart to flutter, and she decided to focus on the meal. But, had he called her love? No, no, of course not. That was just wishful thinking.
Needing a distraction from her active imagination, she thankfully remembered something. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot because of our, the, what happened this morning. A Senator Mitchell stopped by looking for you both.”
They both stared at her and then at each other.
“What did he say?” Brad asked.
Isabel grabbed another tasty spoonful. “Not much. That he’s your friend, and he wanted to talk to you both.” She decided not to add that jab about their violent tendencies.
“Dale, you take Isabel to work tomorrow, and I’ll head to the club.”
Isabel cocked her head, sensing a change in the atmosphere. “Is something wrong?”
Brad threw her a smile that seemed to lick her pussy. Damn, how could he turn her on with a tilt of his lips?
“No, princess.”
One of these days she’d ask him why he chose to call her princess. But not now. Right now she just wanted to enjoy his smile and this amazing meal she’d loved as a child.
“Isabel. There’s something we need to talk about. I’ll get right to it.”
She shifted uncomfortably at Dale’s sudden seriousness.
“In the heat of things, I used a condom for your backside, but not, uhm—”
“I know,” she cut in, seeing him become tongue-tied at his explanation. She found that sweet of him.
“We never discussed if you’re on birth control, and I’m concerned.” He pinned his eyes on her.
Isabel dabbed her mouth with her napkin and sat back. She took a deep breath and gave them both a comforting smile. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. However, there is something I have to tell you.” Better to just jump in and tell them so they didn’t need to be concerned any longer. It wasn’t because they’d care, of course. She had to tell them because they would actually feel a great weight lift off their shoulders that they had one less burden to stress about.
“I can’t have children.”
Chapter Fourteen
The silence rang in Brad’s ears. He held his glass in his hand. Dale’s spoon hovered over his bowl. Isabel looked from one to the other, waiting for a question, a comment, a reaction. Anything. At least she seemed comfortable, if not amused, at their shock.
Brad didn’t know what to say, but he had to know. “Isabel, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Jeez, that’s the best you could come up with?
Her tender smile was comforting, but still.
“Yes. I’m fine. I had severe endometriosis a few years ago. After different medications and treatments, the doctors felt that, well, all that was left was to remove my uterus.”
He remembered when they found out Isabel had gone to the hospital when she was eighteen, but with records being private, all they could do was wait for her release. Since she’d seemed fine from the pictures, they had eventually stopped trying to learn what had happened, attributing it to a dancing injury like the ankle she’d sprained twice the year before.
“You were so young,” Dale exclaimed.
“Well, my mom had it after I was born. That’s why I’m an only child. It’s hereditary.”
Brad was stunned. “I’m so sorry, Isabel.”
She laughed, and he was once again lost to that sweet sound. “Don’t be. I’m fine. I’ve accepted it as fate. It was meant to be. Like my mom always said, things happen for a reason.”
Brad admired her fortitude, her acceptance of what had been handed to her. Most people would curse life, or God, but she was truly fine with it. She could see a purpose for her existence that made him…look up to her.
He realized children would not be a reason now to reject him and Dale. And when he looked at his friend, he knew they were thinking the same. Marriage was still on the table, however. She might still desire that type of commitment
What the hell was he thinking? Having that conversation meant she’d want to hear three words that really meant nothing. It was enough that he couldn’t live without her. That he’d die for her. And that’s what he’d tell her when she wasn’t worried about the killer still being on the loose. He’d wait until then.
And thinking about the killer brought his mind back to the other pain in his ass—the senator. Mitchell had wanted a piece of Club Lava since he found out it was Brad and Dale who owned it. He had it out for them from the day Isabel’s grandfather saved their asses. The senator, back then just a hotshot attorney, knew old man Thomas had covered for them but couldn’t prove it.
Lava was also the type of club a man like Mitchell could claim to protect from any legal issues while extorting money from the owner, all without his constituents ever knowing. And in the past week he’d really put on the pressure, obviously for his upcoming campaign fundraiser. Now he was dropping by their house. Time to go talk with a few friends.
Isabel helped clean up after dinner and headed to bed when Brad told her he and Dale needed to talk and would join her shortly. He and Dale stepped outside by the pool.
“So what’s on your mind?” asked Dale.
Brad took a drink of his beer. “Putting a stop to the senator.”
Dale walked around to the far side of the pool, and Brad stood staring out at the quiet ocean.
“What do you have in mind?”
“We have to get something on him.”
“You mean blackmail?”
Brad finished his beer. “It’s the only way. If we pay him off, he’ll come back for more. If we ignore him, he takes our license. If we kill him, we go to prison.”
Dale came to stand by his side, admiring the same view of the moonlit Atlantic. “So we follow him?”
“Let me visit a couple of places tomorrow the senator may frequent. See what I can find.”
His friend nodded. “Sounds good.”
If the senator was a conniving piece of shit who tried strong-arming a swingers club for money, Brad would bet his life he also cheated, lied, or stole. And tomorrow, he’d find proof of at least one of these other vices.
* * * *
Dale understood why Brad had come home yesterday with a mission. Isabel was all kinds of sexy, sensual, and passionate on the dance floor. She pulled off her shirt earlier in the day and now danced salsa in front of a class of admiring students.
Her leotard pressed her breasts together, creating cleavage he pictured sticking his dick through. Her short skirt swirled with each spin, teasing him with quick shots of lean upper thighs and a hard ass. And her leg warmers did nothing to hide the lean legs she moved all across the floor. His dick jumped in his jeans, and he stood to pace around her office.
Last night, he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep, and Brad practically yanked her from his arms for his turn. But he didn’t have long to wait before she shifted and moved her body closer to his again. Brad wasn’t angry long since she turned to him again before they’d fallen asleep.
It had been as if she had to ensure they were both sleeping with her. He was surprised she’d even gotten any sleep, but she had. She’d slept peacefully through the night and woke them up to the scent of crepes waiting for them.
When Brad left the bed, Dale admitted to his friend that he doubted he’d ever fall asleep without her. To his surprise, Brad mumbled “me too.” Maybe Brad would soon open up to Isabel, and Dale could finally tell her he wanted to spend his life with her.
Finally, her day ended, and while he locked the front door for her, studying the parking lot, she headed to the back. Damn, he wanted her so bad he couldn’t wait to get her home. He knew his dick had zipper imprints on it.
He walked across the empty studio and entered the back. He heard the shower run and licked his lips. Not missing a step, he entered the pink bathroom, locking the door behind him, and pulled the curtain open.
Salsa Nights Page 13
