by Hart, Lane
“Rob Lawrence…he’s…he’s tonguing my ass,” she whispers, jolting forward so suddenly she flattens both of her palms on my chest to catch herself. Which is when I realize it’s his hands, not hers, on my ball sac.
“Oh shit!” Jetta exclaims before mouthing the word fingers inside me.
There’s suddenly wet suction around one of my balls, then the other, which has my hips thrusting upward, bouncing Jetta on my cock. “Now his mouth…is on…is on me,” I explain to her as I grit my teeth to try and keep from enjoying the sensation. But it’s a lost cause. My dick is enjoying it so much I’m fucking Jetta from the bottom without her having to even move. Her face looks like she’s going through a similar confusion mixed with awkward gratification.
“Kiss me,” I tell her so I don’t have to think too hard about what’s going on below the waist and can just enjoy the moment without getting in my head.
“Okay,” she agrees.
Our tongues get into their own thrusting rhythm against each other that our bodies begin to mimic. Everything is going great until Jetta nearly bites the tip of my tongue off.
“Sorry! I’m so…so sorry!” she apologizes. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s going on when I see Rob Lawrence groaning behind her. I think I can even feel the thick shape of his cock pressing against mine through the wall of her pussy!
“You’re taking both of us?” I ask, and Jetta nods rapidly, her face pinched in what I’m guessing is equal parts pain and pleasure as she occasionally moans. Rob’s hands reach around and squeeze her tits as he begins to take her hard and fast like a horny dog.
“Does it feel good?” I ask Jetta since her open-mouthed gasps make it hard to tell.
“Yes?” she asks, but it sounds like a question. “Ask me…tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I agree, and she cries out even louder.
“Just kiss me, Devlin!” she demands, and I happily oblige with my fingers crossed that I don’t lose any chunks of my tongue because of Rob fucking Lawrence.
Chapter Five
Jetta
* * *
I’ve never woken up with a hangover after not drinking a drop of alcohol. But that’s the only way to describe the exhaustion and lack of energy in my body when I open my eyes and find myself wedged between two incredibly gorgeous and completely naked, sleeping men.
Last night I got fucked by both in ways I never even dreamed of before.
And while it was so freaking amazing in the moment, with orgasms so intense I think I may have lost several parts of my soul, this morning, with sunlight shining through the small bedroom windows, my head is giving me one hell of a lecture, wanting to know what the fuck I was thinking sleeping with two guys I don’t know at the same time! Not to mention I may have injured something in my vagina. And embarrassingly enough, my no longer virgin ass hurts the most.
Slutty. I feel slutty. I bet neither Devlin nor Rob Lawrence ever wake up with next morning regrets, so why the hell should I?
Because I don’t normally do this type of thing! I have a three-date rule before I sleep with men, and most never make it to that requirement! I can count on one hand how many lovers I’ve had, and last night that number doubled!
Oh crap, I’m so sweaty with yucky morning breath and my damp hair plastered to my forehead. Not to mention I am very, very sticky in places I’m not used to being sticky. My breasts, for one, where Rob Lawrence shot his load, and my butt cheeks may possibly be glued together thanks to him jizzing on me there too.
Like a shameful worm, I slowly scoot my way to the foot of the bed, underneath arms, legs, and hard dicks, to slink off the bed and onto the floor. The floor where there are several used condoms and wrappers lying around. At least Devlin came in those and not on my skin.
I crawl around until I find my dress and fanny pack, then say to hell with my panties because I need to escape the memories of this wonderful yet shameful threesome as fast as possible. After I slip my dress over my head, I find my sandals near the open door and keep crawling that way, reaching back to put each shoe on my feet before finally standing up in the tour bus’s living room.
That’s when I see not one but three faces staring back at me – the other members of the band.
“Hi,” I say sweetly as I try to smooth my sweaty hair down. No one says a word. “Have a good day,” I tell them as I head for the door. They just sit there, half dressed, sipping from their coffee cups and water bottles while eyeing me like the hot mess I am.
The full force of the morning sun on the bus steps is blinding, making me feel even dirtier about the night before, if that’s possible.
Retrieving my phone from my fanny pack, I stumble down the steps and pull up Carla’s number, then put the phone to my ear while it rings.
“What’s up?” she asks first thing.
“Hey, could you come pick me up?”
“Sure. Where are you?
“Um, I never left the stadium.”
“You never left the stadium?” she repeats. “Where did you go during the storm?”
“Oh, just, ah, back to the band’s tour bus.”
“No fucking way!” she exclaims, which does have my lips lifting in a small smile. “Did you give Rob Lawrence a blowjob?”
“I did, yeah,” I agree.
“Is that all?” she asks.
“Nope. Not even the tip of the iceberg,” I reply.
“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything! Did you get pictures?”
“No pics, but I’ll tell you the rest after you come get me and take me away from the craziest night of my life.”
“Sounds like it! I’m on my way!”
“Thanks, Carla. I’ll start walking back to the gate…”
“Where are you now?”
“Just leaving the tour bus.”
“You stayed with him all night! Holy shit! Holy shit! Did you have an orgy with the whole band or what?”
“Not an orgy, just a threesome with the hot guy I met at the concession stand.”
“No way! You slept with him and Rob Lawrence at the same time?”
“Yes,” I admit. “Does that make me an enormous slut?”
“No! That makes you enormously awesome!”
“If you say so,” I mutter since I don’t exactly feel awesome at the moment.
Sure, last night’s concert was insane, and the night was one I know I’ll never forget. Meeting a rock star and being with him blew my mind. And so did Devlin. Without him, none of this wild night would’ve happened.
And yet, for some reason, I really hope I don’t see him again after how embarrassed I feel about the things we did now.
Devlin
* * *
I’ve woken up plenty of times with a girl giving me head in the morning. My dick is pretty amazing, and they can’t keep their mouths off of it.
But I don’t normally sleep through the licking and teasing before they start deep throating like a goddamn vacuum cleaner. Guess I must still be exhausted after last night’s mind-blowing fuck fest.
My cock, on the other hand, is rock hard and ready to blow any second.
“Jesus, Jetta,” I moan as I reach down to cup the back of her head to pull her off for a second, hoping to make this grade A blowjob last a little longer. My fingers stroke through incredibly short hair that I can’t even pull, so either Jetta cut hers in the middle of the night or… “Rob Lawrence!” I exclaim, blinking my eyes open to find him laying between my thighs, his lips stretched wide around my cock with pure delight on his face.
“Stop that!” I tell him with a slap to the back of his head. I can’t jerk free unless I want him to bite a few inches off! The repeated smack makes his eyes finally open and look up at me. As soon as he removes his mouth, I’m scrambling off the bed, searching for my pants.
“Not cool, Rob Lawrence. Not cool at all!” I yell at him as I start yanking my leather pants up my legs one slow tight inch at a time. “I thought you were Jetta! Where is she anyway?” I a
sk when I glance around the room and realize we’re alone.
“She left about half an hour ago,” Rob responds when he rolls to his back and starts stroking his dick.
“Shit!” I blurt out. I didn’t even get her last name or have a chance to call myself from her phone.
“No need to rush off. Let Rob Lawrence finish you off first.”
“No, I’m good,” I tell him even though despite knowing it was him sucking me off, my dick is still hard, which makes it tough to get my pants zipped. “And I told you to stay away from my dick!”
“Your dick liked my mouth,” he points out. “No one ever has to know you came down Rob Lawrence’s throat.”
Slipping my shoes on, I say, “Goodbye, Rob Lawrence. It’s been…insane, you crazy bastard.”
“Fine. Leave. I can suck my own dick. Did you know that?” he asks. “The rumors are true. Want to watch?”
I, unfortunately, catch a glimpse of him bending his face toward his own dick before I run out of the bedroom and hurry past the rest of the members, who are sitting in the living room eating breakfast.
“Great show,” I tell them before I burst through the door and out into the world. I’m a little ashamed of my dick’s rogue behavior, but it was all worth the epic stories I can now tell, and the night I’ll never fucking forget.
Now if only I can track down Jetta. I absolutely have to see that girl again.
Chapter Six
Jetta
* * *
“Where the hell have you been?” my brother Sean asks before I can tiptoe undetected into his spare bedroom.
“Oh, hey! Morning!” I reply cheerfully when I turn to face him. He’s only wearing a pair of red boxers, and his shaggy brown hair is a mess. He looks like he definitely just woke up. For weeks now, I’ve wanted to take my scissors to his unkempt head for a trim, but he won’t let me.
“I waited up for you until two a.m.,” he remarks when he stomps over to grab the milk from the fridge and drinks from the carton. “You could’ve at least sent me a message to let me know you were staying out. Where were you anyway?” he asks. “Looks like you had one hell of a night,” he remarks as he takes in my dress, unbrushed hair and smudged makeup.
“I did have a crazy night, so I’m going to hit the shower and then take a nap,” I say when I turn around to leave. “Sorry about not letting you know I wasn’t coming home. I didn’t know I was sixteen again.”
“I’m not asking you to report everywhere you go to me. Just give me a heads up when you’re going to be hoeing around and not coming home so I don’t worry about you.”
“Hoeing around?” I turn back and repeat with my arms crossed over my chest indignantly. I’m so tired of the double standard that says it’s okay for guys to have one-night stands but not for women.
Sean wipes away his milk mustache and puts the milk back in the fridge. “No judgment here. Do whatever you have to do to make rent in two weeks,” he says, making my shoulders tense.
“I’ve applied to several jobs, and now I’m just waiting for one to call me back,” I reply. “It may take a few days to find something, but I’m not hoeing myself out!”
“If you can’t help with at least half the rent in two weeks, I’ll have to find a roommate who can. Times are tight, you know?” he says while putting two waffles in the toaster.
“I know they are, and I’ll figure out something soon,” I tell him.
“How much did those tickets to the concert cost you?” he asks, turning around to rest his back on the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I bought my ticket six months ago, and it was only thirty dollars for a lawn seat.”
“You’ve got to learn how to manage your money better, Jetta.”
“I manage my money just fine,” I say, trying not to get angry at him. Spending thirty dollars to see my favorite band of all time wasn’t that big of a splurge. “If my loser boyfriend hadn’t forced me to move out of my apartment and back here with you, then I would still have a job and be awesome.”
Not that my job at the grocery store was all that great, but I was assistant manager after working there for three years.
“Yeah, you’ve never had the best taste in men,” Sean says. “In fact, I could probably set you up with some of my friends.”
“No thanks,” I tell him. “I think I want to just stay single and focus on a new job and all for now.”
“Suit yourself, but I know some people in high places. Guys with tons of money they would love to spend on a young girl like you.”
I don’t even respond to that statement because it sounds so gross, like he would be pimping me out or hooking me up with ugly, rich guys. As if I prefer money over looks and personality.
Take Rob Lawrence, for instance. The rock legend has tons of money, and yet he is one of the biggest weirdos I’ve ever met. Hot? Yes. Rich? Absolutely. But the dude is incredibly strange, unlike Devlin, who seemed like a genuine, down to earth guy with only a few jerk tendencies, like passing people in line. He was so damn good in the sack he more than made up for it, though.
Still, I’m getting too old to just be with a guy for a good time in bed. I want to be with someone who doesn’t play games, is ready to settle down, and has a strong work ethic that I can trust so we could eventually build a family together.
And that is definitely not a man like Devlin, who has sex with women he just met in public places and has threesomes with rock stars.
Devlin
* * *
“Yo, Dev! How was the concert?” Fiasco asks Sunday afternoon when I walk into the Dirty Aces meeting and find him already sitting at the table.
“Incredible until the storm ended it early.” Can he see my face turning red, or does my tan hide the blush?
“Told you it was going to rain,” he says with a triumphant grin. “Good thing I stayed home.”
“Yep, you were right. For once,” I joke. “But the night wasn’t a total bust. I met a girl and Rob Lawrence.”
“Who?” he asks. He’s not really a Wasteland Authority fan and only listens to them on work sites or in the car when I make him. The two of us have been working for a construction company for years. The pay is good, but the work is physically grueling. At least the eight hours a day on a job saves me from having to find time to lift weights.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “So, what are we meeting for today? Do you know?”
“No fucking idea,” he replies as expected. “But at least I’m not late.”
“At least there’s that,” I agree.
“What are you girls talking about?” Nash asks when he comes in and takes his seat on the right of Malcolm’s place at the head of the table. He’s our VP, and that seat is always reserved for him.
“Nothing,” I say at the same time Fiasco says, “Dev went to a rock concert and met some people.”
“What are you, twelve?” Nash jokes.
“Wasteland Authority isn’t some tween band. They’re legendary, one of the best rock bands of the last decade.”
“Never heard of them,” he says.
“That’s because you’re so old you only listen to classic rock,” I tease him, and he flips me the bird.
Wirth joins the table next and then Silas, so we’re only waiting for Malcolm, our president.
And while we wait, my mind keeps flashing back to the best night ever, mostly of Jetta naked, her tits bouncing, the taste of her pussy, how we kissed like we had done it a thousand times before.
Too bad I don’t know where to find her, or I would be burying my face between her legs right fucking now and show up late to this meeting.
“Hey, ah, any of you know a purple-haired girl named Jetta?” I ask the table. They all consider it for a moment before shaking their heads no.
“Why?” Nash asks. “She knock you up and forget to leave a forwarding address?”
Now it’s my turn to flip him off just as Malcolm comes in and takes his seat at the head of the table.
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“We’re coming up on the end of the quarter as most of you know,” Malcolm starts. “And we’ve been slacking off the last few months on recovery. Does anyone have any idea how much money we’re owed from gambling debts?” he asks. No one responds. “Not even a guess?” he presses.
“Ten thousand?” I offer.
“Ten thousand,” Malcolm scoffs. “I wish it was only ten thousand. But no. The amount owed to us is the highest it’s ever been at two-hundred fucking grand.”
“How the hell did it get that high?” Nash asks.
“Why don’t we ask our enforcers, Dev and Fiasco?”
“People are broke. Times are hard,” I tell them defensively.
“Or,” Malcolm starts. “You listen to their sob stories and then leave empty handed without putting the fear of god, or worse, the fear of this MC into them. Do better!”
“How much better?” Fiasco asks.
“What have I told you? If they can’t pay, you take any electronics that are not bolted down and see what you can get for the shit at the pawn shop. A little is better than nothing, and it drives the point home that we collect on our debts even in ‘hard times.’ Times are always hard when you’re too stupid to handle your money, and you end up owing every fucking body on the planet. The credit card company or the utilities have to be paid in cash. We’ll take what we’re owed in anything, be it guns, cars, drugs, bikes, jewelry…fuck, if they’ve got gold teeth, they better pry them out and pass them over. Otherwise we’ll take what we’re owed out of their ass. Understand?”
“Fine, we’ll do better,” I assure him.
“I want knees broken and mouths busted for repeat offenders. You hear me?” Malcolm asks. “The first time they say they’re broke, they lose their possessions. The second time, you take a payment from their flesh, pressing them harder each and every time until everyone is paid up. Got it?”
