by Helena Ray
“You’re sure about this? Because I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you.”
Although Tristan’s concern and sensitivity warmed Alexis’s heart, there was something much hotter right now controlling her actions.
“Yes, now please.”
Tristan pressed on her hips, and she sank onto the hard shaft of his cock, her muscles squeezing in a grateful welcome.
“God, you feel so fucking good.” Tristan’s eyes closed, and his head rolled back as he gave a small thrust up into Alexis’s sheath.
Jeremiah’s hands landed on her shoulder and pushed her forward so she lay on top of Tristan, her hands on either side of his head.
She felt Jeremiah separating her ass cheeks, and fear overtook her. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.
Jeremiah must have sensed her tension. He began massaging her ass and leaned over her, putting his lips against her ear. “Don’t worry. We’ll make this good for you. If it’s too much, just tell us to stop.” That low rumble of a laugh sounded, making Alexis clench around Tristan. “But believe me, you won’t want to stop.”
He returned to his position behind Alexis, and she felt the slickened head of his cock pressing against her puckered hole. The tip of his head pushed into her, and she gasped at the pressure. Having a real cock fucking her ass was nothing like just having the plug there. She gulped in air and squeezed her eyes tight, preparing to take all of Jeremiah’s considerable length inside of her.
“Shh, baby,” Tristan assured from beneath her. “You’re doing just fine.”
A burning pain shot through her as she was suddenly stretched wider than she had ever thought possible, and then it vanished, a different kind of pleasured pain shooting through her pussy. She felt Jeremiah sink into her completely, and the fullness drove her mad with sheer desire. Bucking her hips toward Tristan, she found that sex was very different with two cocks. Tristan felt even bigger with Jeremiah stretching her ass to the limit.
Cautiously, Tristan gave a thrust up into Alexis, grazing against her G-spot and causing her whole body to tighten with arousal.
“Fuck, Tristan,” Jeremiah said from behind her. “You can’t do that too much. I just about lost my load.”
Jeremiah gave a matching thrust, pushing Alexis forward onto Tristan’s cock. They started up a steady back-and-forth rhythm, each stroke touching parts of Alexis she never knew existed and pushing her closer to her free fall into the endless oblivion of bliss that awaited her.
Tristan reached between them and stroked against her clit, and Alexis spasmed at the sudden sensation.
“Damn it, Tris!” Jeremiah’s strokes quickly escalated in force and speed, in turn driving Tristan to the same intensity. With one forceful thrust forward, Jeremiah poured a hot jet of semen into Alexis’s ass, sending her hurtling toward the edge of orgasm. Tristan gave another thrust that grazed against that magical spot inside of her, and Alexis’s body could take no more. She dove into the eternal blackness of bodily delights, allowing herself to be consumed completely by the rush of feeling breaking all around her.
As she came down, Tristan found his own release, sending a matching stream of hot seed into Alexis’s cunt. They all lay on the bed, a panting tangle of limbs, glistening in sweat. Captured between the two sexiest men she had ever met, Alexis felt completely decadent but also entirely safe. The feeling of both their cocks filling her at once had given her exactly what she had always been missing.
Satisfaction.
Chapter 10
The crowd was worse on the next day. Jeremiah’s prediction had proven true. Swarms of protesters gathered in front of the courthouse, their number so great they spilled out onto Commerce Street. They held signs with clever slogans such as “Big Oil Little Heart,” “Don’t Mess with Texas Jobs,” and Jeremiah’s personal favorite, “Burke Pierced Herndon.” Unsurprisingly, there were also several “Joey’s Just Jolly for Texas” campaign signs.
A chant of “Save our jobs!” broke out amongst the protesters as soon as Jeremiah and Tristan exited the car. Today, two bodyguards flanked Tristan, more protecting the crowd from his wrath than protecting him. Tristan walked with his head down, and Jeremiah thought it best. Their case couldn’t take another public relations shipwreck like they’d dealt with yesterday. The shouts were deafening, and Jeremiah picked up his pace to surround himself in the security of the courthouse as soon as possible.
When inside, the glass did little to block out the cacophony of shouts on the street. The shouts quickly turned from protest to joy, though, when another Town Car pulled up and delivered Joey Johnston. He waved to the crowd, pumping his fist in the air along with his protesters. Jeremiah watched as he painstakingly gave statements to each and every reporter that lined the sidewalk and posed for the flashes bursting left and right.
News trucks pulled up to courthouse, and video cameras and news anchors scampered out to shoot footage of the frenzied mob. Jeremiah shook his head and stared at his own Italian leather oxfords. This was a full-out media blitz in favor of the plaintiff. He could see no way out of the hole they had dug for Burke Pierce.
* * * *
The annoying buzz of her phone ringing awoke Alexis. She pawed toward it and glanced at the number. She didn’t recognize it. The idea of silencing her ring and going back to sleep was tempting, but Alexis figured she might as well answer it and get out of Jeremiah’s very warm and comfortable bed.
“Hello?” She tried to hide the sleep in her voice but failed horribly.
“Hello, Alexis? Did I wake you up? I can call a little bit later so—”
“It’s okay.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “May I ask who’s calling?”
“Oh, I didn’t even introduce myself. This thing tonight… Right. My name. I’m Robin Abrams-Clare, Alexander Abrams and Bryant Clare’s wife. We met at the Lasso on Saturday.”
“Right. Hi, Robin.”
“Hi. Look, I wish I could call you just on social terms, but I have a huge favor to ask of you. My husbands and I are hosting a charity gala benefiting breast cancer research tonight. Our entertainment just called and cancelled, and Jeremiah had mentioned that you’re a ballet dancer. Is there any way I could ask you to—”
“Whip something together? No big deal.” The prospect of breaking out her pointe shoes again had her more excited than she’d expected.
“Oh my God, thank you so much, Alexis. You have no idea how much you’re helping us.” Robin gave Alexis the details for the performance, thanked her profusely again, and hung up.
Alexis’s grogginess had faded away, and she leaped from the bed, landing with her left foot in pique.
A sudden thought caused pain to stab at Alexis’s stomach, though, and her good mood vanished. This was a performance. In front of an audience. She remembered her last times on stage and shivered at the thought of repeating that experience.
Instinctively, she reached for her phone and went to her call history, intending to call Robin and tell her she couldn’t do it. Her fingers wouldn’t obey her brain, though, and she just stood in the middle of the floor holding the phone.
Alexis had no interest in being the sort of girl who experienced some sort of trauma then spent her whole life reeling from the pain. She hadn’t so far, and she wouldn’t start tonight. Dancing was a huge part of her identity, and dancing in front of an audience gave her a rush that nothing else could duplicate. She needed to go through with this.
Despite the twisting feeling in her gut, Alexis began to gather her things around Jeremiah’s bedroom. The room still smelled like sex, and remembering the previous night’s exploits distracted her from her task. Her pussy flared to life at the memory of Jeremiah’s cock pushing against her ass, filling her completely, and Tristan’s wide cock stretching her tight pussy to fit around him like a glove.
Her phone buzzed with a text message and jolted Alexis out of her titillating daydream. It was Jeremiah.
We’re gonna be in court all day. Meet us in
Dallas for lunch?
The thought of seeing Jeremiah and Tristan again sent a dizzy sensation straight to her head as all of her blood rushed between her legs. Of course she’d meet them. Right now, she’d do anything they wanted as long as she knew that something else like tonight was possible. Anyway, a trip to Dallas was necessary to acquire a costume for the night’s performance.
Alexis would face her demons head-on tonight. She’d be dancing Juliet.
* * * *
Jeremiah told her to expect a crowd in front of the courthouse, but this was far beyond Alexis’s idea of a crowd. Angry protesters flooded the streets, and the media presence was overwhelming. Twice, reporters and their camera crews nearly knocked Alexis over as they rushed toward the courthouse entrance in an attempt to get a glance at the defendants and their lawyers as they made their way to lunch.
“Alexis!” She turned at the sound of her name being shouted. Winston Fairchild was fighting his way through a gaggle of photographers. “I never thought I’d find you. Jeremiah asked me to escort you into the courthouse. They’re going to be a few minutes more.”
“Of course.” Winston offered her his elbow, and she politely hooked her arm through his. He helped her to hustle past the reporters and protesters toward the entrance. He flashed an ID card to one of the four armed guards outside the door, and the glass doors opened, allowing them to escape from the madness outside.
“Thank you.” Alexis gave Winston a brief hug. “That could have been terrible. How did you get in here? I’ve never seen that much security.”
“Ah, my little secret.” He leaned in and dramatically whispered, “My firm is handling the case.”
“Is that why you were down here?”
“Yes. I can’t represent Jeremiah and Tristan myself as that would be a significant conflict of interest, but Mr. Pierce keeps me around as his personal errand boy.” He rolled his eyes, and Alexis laughed at his exaggeration.
Winston led Alexis to a secluded group of chairs in the corner and instructed her to stay there until Jeremiah and Tristan came down. He took his leave, and Alexis grabbed a notepad from her purse to begin planning exactly what she would do in her performance that evening. Just as she was beginning to get really involved in her planning, a hushed but arrogant Texan accent sounded directly behind her.
“They don’t have a chance in hell.”
“No, sir, they don’t.”
“Ha! We finally backed those tree-hugging pussies into a corner.”
“Sending them the altered blast preventer—”
“Shh! There are reporters around.” The voice paused then burst into laughter. “As if they could do anything. Ah, buying that oilfield equipment supplier was the best damn decision I ever made. I got friends at every major news outlet.” The voice dropped to a low grumble. “No one can touch me.”
“The campaign is certainly going better than expected.”
Campaign? Wait a minute, Alexis thought to herself. That voice is eerily familiar.
“Yes, it is. And with Burke Pierce out of the way, we can finally put a stop to clean energy development in Texas.”
“That will make you popular with the oil community, sir.”
“Well, why the hell did you think I was doing this?”
Realization dawned on Alexis. Turning her head slowly around, her suspicions were confirmed. Representative Joey Johnston was standing behind her, scolding a young assistant who was cowering under his commanding presence.
The pieces of the puzzle suddenly came together, and Alexis was sitting on some highly charged information. Joey Johnston had purposely sent an altered blast preventer to the Burke Pierce rig, and he did it to halt Burke Pierce’s development of a clean energy plant. This was the key to the whole case. It hadn’t been Tristan or the company’s fault! Tristan had nothing to do with the manufacturing of the equipment, and since Johnston owned the equipment supplier, he could have switched the blast preventer at any point. Burke Pierce hadn’t fallen down on the job with their safety checks!
She had to tell Jeremiah and Tristan. With this new information, they could easily get the case dropped. Insurance companies had to treat intentional harm differently than an accident, right? Her excitement was short-lived. She didn’t have any proof. While she was sure Jeremiah and Tristan would trust her, she’d watched enough TV legal dramas to know eavesdropping was hardly admissible evidence.
A hand dropped on Alexis’s shoulder, and she jumped.
“Sorry, sorry.” Tristan crossed in front of her, squatted to her level, and took her in his arms. “Shh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. It’s just…” Alexis looked around at her surroundings, now aware of how easy it was to eavesdrop. “Is there somewhere more private we can talk?” She turned out of Tristan’s embrace, too confused and anxious for physical affection.
The hurt look on Tristan’s face twisted her heart, and while she hated keeping anything from him, she had to tell him this in complete confidence. She twisted his messy mop of blond hair in her hands.
She whispered, “It’s about the case. We need Jeremiah, a lawyer, and maybe a cop.”
Tristan’s eyes widened so Alexis could see whites all around them. “I’ll get Jer.” His voice was weak as he stood and walked away.
Alexis took a deep breath to steady herself. This was bigger than her, Tristan, and Jeremiah combined. This was a game-changer. They only needed a way to get the information into a form admissible in court.
And Alexis had an idea of how to do just that.
Chapter 11
Alexis wasn’t comfortable at all while she waited behind the curtain of the stage set up in the garden of the Abrams-Clare mansion. After a few weeks out of pointe shoes, they stung as they bound her feet, and although her new costume was beautiful, it felt foreign and stiff. Most of all, she was terrified of being used as bait.
“Hey, you about ready to go on?” Bryant Clare, one of Robin’s husbands and one of the hosts of the event, approached Alexis. It wasn’t until he put an arm around her that she realized she was shaking. “Nothing to be scared of, darlin’. We’ve got it all covered.”
Jeremiah had filled in Alexander, Bryant, and Robin on the details of their sting, and they had been very helpful and supportive all evening. Now Bryant stood comforting her as her resolve wavered just before the performance.
“It’s not just the setup. The last few times I performed were disasters. If that happens again tonight, I’ll blow the whole thing for everyone and—”
“Still nothing to be scared of. It’s almost time, and you’re past the point of backing out. Just get out there and be your beautiful self.” Bryant gave her a last squeeze before he hurried away, and she moved to the center of the stage to take her opening position. Panic rose in her chest, but as the music swelled from the small string section set up in front of the stage, Alexis closed her eyes and let the music dispel her anxiety.
The curtain rose, and Alexis began the choreography of the dance. Somehow, all thoughts of Representative Johnston, the case, and her role in taking down the opposition disappeared. Only one thing occupied her mind. This was the first time Jeremiah and Tristan were seeing her dance anything besides the two-step. Every movement was more graceful, her limbs more delicately extended, all due to the thought of them watching her. She wanted to perform for them to show them exactly how much they meant to her.
The music came to a close just as Alexis hit the final arabesque. The elegant crowd sprang to its feet and erupted in applause. A weight lifted from Alexis’s shoulders as she soaked in the audience’s appreciation. She’d done it. She’d gotten up on stage and just danced. Traumatic memories didn’t haunt her, and no disasters occurred. She moved to curtsy toward the audience and saw Jeremiah and Tristan at the left front table, beaming toward her, their admiration and devotion obvious in their faces. She took a graceful bow, dropping her forehead nearly to the ground, and scampered off the stage.
Robin Abrams-Clare bounced toward her and threw her arms around Alexis’s neck. “Oh, that was brilliant. Way better than what we had lined up. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Robin’s enthusiasm was contagious. “No, thank you. I haven’t had that much fun dancing in a very long time.”
“Probably because you have Jer and Tristan drooling over you. I mean, if I wasn’t married to—”
“Choose your words carefully, Mrs. Abrams-Clare.” Alexander Abrams appeared behind Robin. He took Alexis’s hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “You were brilliant, really.”
Alexis received compliments left and right as she made her way back to the mansion to change. Jeremiah and Tristan appeared as she left the crowd of the gala to escort her.
“You were enchanting.” Jeremiah captured her lips.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.” Tristan put a hand around her waist and brushed his lips against the back of her neck.
They left her at the back entrance to the mansion and released her into the care of the household butler. He led her to a richly decorated dressing room with a large vanity table topped by a mirror with an intricate golden frame. The dress that had been selected for the evening by Jeremiah, Tristan, and the Dallas County police force hung by itself on a rack in the middle of the room. The idea of actually wearing it in public scared Alexis a little. Even though the sting was her brainchild, she knew that Jeremiah and Tristan were the experts on what men found sexy. She needed to look irresistible for their plan to work, but did she have to wear this?
It was a very short, pale pink halter dress with a plunging neckline. Alexis knew she wasn’t the bustiest of girls, but she doubted her C-cups could fit in those little triangles of fabric. If that wasn’t bad enough, the open back and side panels meant she definitely couldn’t wear a bra. And the little flower disguising the microphone at the base of her cleavage didn’t help, either. She took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve and changed into the dress.
