Gas or Ass

by Eden Connor

  “Is that right?” Colt stroked his jaw, but he was smiling. “And who’s she gonna fuck?”

  “Anyone you want.” I returned his smile.

  He gripped my hips and leaned forward. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”

  I obeyed. My heart raced every bit as fast as it had when I’d been on the start line. He cupped my buttocks in his hands and stood straight, lifting my ass into the air. Burying his face between my thighs, he attacked my clit with his tongue.

  “Goddamn, I love that you don’t wear a bra.” Caine shoved my shirt up under my chin and leaned down to nip one hard peak. His hard fingers teased the other. Colt dug his thumbs into my crease, spreading me open. He raised me higher, dragging his tongue along my cleft to stroke my pucker. I shuddered in his hands, writhing under their hard ministrations until I climaxed.

  “See, Shelby? It’s all about gas or ass.” Colt lowered me to the metal and unfastened his jeans. “Now, see how much cock you can take, little sister.” He gripped his cock with one hand and my hip with the other. He held his thumb at the same unattainable point, about a fourth of the way down the shaft. His gaze was steady on my face. “Tell me what you want first.”

  My tummy clenched, but I wanted this so bad, I had no trouble saying the words. “I want my big brother’s cock inside me.”

  “Then take it. Take as much as you can, and then take some more.”

  I kept my eyes on his face when his cock breached my entrance. He felt much bigger than his two fingers. I needed him, but I couldn’t get enough of him inside me.

  I felt Caine’s gaze on the spot where Colt and I connected.

  “Might need to give her something else to think about.” I didn’t understand Caine’s mysterious words, but since Colt gripped my waist, I knew it was Caine who slid a finger slid into my ass. He used his free hand to tease my nipple. “Take that cock like a good little girl. Don’t tense up. That’s what your pussy’s for, taking a cock. Let him in, Shelby,” Caine ordered.

  Caine’s strokes into my ass felt good. Colt stretched me wide, but he withdrew, and surged inside me again. I threw my head back and moved my hips, trying desperately to help him get inside me.

  “More, Shelby. Take more,” Colt demanded.

  Caine took his hand off my breast. A moment later, I felt his finger on my clit. He showed his usual lack of mercy on the small nub. I rocked my hips forward. Closing my eyes, I focused on Caine’s fingers and tried to relax. At last, Colt drove into me so far, I felt his fingers encircling his shaft. A flash of heat suffused me.

  Colt cried out, “Hell, yeah. Goddamn, that’s tight.”

  Caine never ceased his ministrations. If anything, his motion became more insistent. I had no chance of moving away from his hands. I was so sensitive, I wanted to, but knew there was no chance they’d let me go, so all I could do was take the sensations Caine forced on me while Colt drove into me again and again. Caine’s strokes in my ass felt better than good now. He matched his brother’s speed, thrusting into my ass just as Colt drove deep. And then, I was coming.

  “Fuck. Fuck.” Colt’s shaft spasmed inside my channel. Caine relented at last. Colt fell forward, resting his forehead against mine. I smiled, feeling him start to soften.

  That wasn’t so hard.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Friday night rolled around, I was buzzing with excitement by the time they got home from work. I could barely eat the casserole I’d dug out of the freezer, so I nibbled my salad and eyed the time.

  It was a little past seven when we shoved the last dish into the dishwasher, so they amused them selves by putting two barstools side by side in the den and bending me over them. Caine dug a handful of short bungee cords out of a drawer in the kitchen. Kneeling, he wrapped one around each ankle, and hooked them to the stool, then fastened my wrists together in front of me, and a final cord connected my wrists to the stool.

  They took turns, fingering me until I was almost ready to come, then they’d stop to watch some idiotic race on television. I was furious when I realized it was a re-run of one they’d already watched live.

  “Goddammit.” I glared over my shoulder.

  I fought to get my hands free, but Caine’s knots were too much for me to handle, so I had to lie there, looking over my shoulder with sad eyes until one of them approached me again.

  Then Caine got the bright idea to fetch a pair of channel locks. He moved to where I could see what he was doing and slid a condom over each of the rubber-coated handles. Sliding one into my pussy and the other into my ass, he fucked the tool in and out of me until I was ready to cry, I was so desperate to come. The handles weren’t as big around as his little finger, not nearly enough to get off on. He leaned close and taunted me.

  “Makes you appreciate two big cocks, don’t it?’

  “Yes!” I squirmed, trying in earnest to get free. For my troubles, he gave my clit a hard pinch.

  When he took the tool away, all I could do was pant in fury while they turned their attention to the stupid race.

  By the time they let me go, I stalked to my room and slid hangers across the rod as hard as I could sling them, listening to their laughter. I picked out a dress that Mom had sworn to burn if she ever saw me wear without leggings.

  Colt poked his head through the door and whistled. “Love it. Don’t even fuckin’ bother with underpants.”

  “I have to,” I muttered. “Else I’m gonna stain those damn white seats.”

  Caine pushed past Colt and fell against the wall, laughing until he had to hold his sides. “Towels. They’re not just for drying off, you know,” he finally gasped.

  I raised my middle finger, but left off the underwear, and flounced into my desk chair to repair the damage to my makeup.

  When it was finally time to go, I was vibrating with impatience. “We’ll take the truck and the ‘Cuda,” Colt decreed. “Unless you want to drive the ‘Vette, Caine?”

  “I want to drive the ‘Vette,” I announced. “Caine can drive the ‘Cuda if he wants.”

  “Can’t see over the hood, remember?” Colt grinned. “Since you’re feeling generous, I’ll drive the ‘Vette and you can ride with Caine.”

  I handed Caine the keys and hustled to the passenger side of the Barracuda.

  Cars already lined the country road when we arrived. With a wave out of the window, Colt pulled down the road. I supposed he headed for the cul-de-sac. Caine pulled over on the shoulder. Putting the car into neutral, he set the hand brake and jerked his head, indicating he wanted me to get out. I skipped around to the driver’s side, waving at Caroline, who pulled over a couple of cars behind us.

  Caine opened the door and made me stand with my legs spread. “You know what winning feels like?” he demanded, sliding a finger through my folds.

  “Feels like the best sex ever.” I squinted as a car took the position directly across the road from us. He dragged my moisture to my clit and started the hard massage I’d come to crave.

  “Who’s getting head tonight?”

  “I am.”

  “And then, who’s gonna spread her little legs and get fucked right on this hood while me and Colt stare into her pretty eyes?”

  “I am.”

  “That’s right. You’re gonna come so hard, you’ll fuckin’ scream.” He ground the throbbing nub. “And then, you’re gonna come again.” A hard pinch to the defenseless button made my knees weak. He held the position, sliding the cowl of flesh over my clit in a continuous pinching motion that gave me a hot flash. “And again.”

  The first two cars were on the line. My heart pounded along with the revving engines. Caine pierced me, circling my entrance. “Wider.” I slid my feet apart. “Can’t have you cheating and getting off, now can we?” He had to shout to make the last three words understood because the two racers roared past.

  Now Caroline was backing up to the start line.

  Caine slid inside me, giving me just one frustrating thrust, then he withdrew. “Kick so
me ass, Shelby.” He slid from behind the wheel. I snagged the towel off the passenger seat and spread it over the driver’s seat. By the time I’d adjusted the seat so I could reach the pedals, he was in the passenger seat. Caroline flew past in the Challenger.

  “That dude’s already lost.” Caine shook his head.

  I looked past him, studying the car opposite us. Blue neon gleamed from the undercarriage, but the rest of the car, windows included, were black. On the back quarter-panel, over the wide rear tires, the word ‘Widowmaker’ gleamed in reflective vinyl. Music blared from his stereo.

  “What’s that?”

  Caine snorted. “Monte Carlo Super Sport. Dude’s lost his ever-lovin’ mind, giving that car such a stupid name. He needs his ass kicked for that alone. I built that fuckin’ engine.” My heart fell and I pulled my gaze from the cold blue neon to gape at Caine. “You’ll have to beat your nine-second time to win, girl.”

  I shifted my gaze back to the car, open-mouthed.

  “You can do it, Shelby. I made some adjustments to the ‘Cuda this week. Changed the oxygen-to-air ratio. Worked on the clutch. She’ll beat this guy if you don’t freeze up.”

  I didn’t recall seeing him under the hood, except for those few minutes at the fairgrounds. And the Barracuda still hadn’t beaten the Mustang.

  He gripped my knee. “I believe in you, Shelby. Kick his ass.” Caine believed in me? Those four words seemed more powerful than any I’d heard in a long time. “C’mon, Shelby! You only live once. Let’s do this!”

  I felt for the switch, still staring through the side window. My fingers touched the key. I shoved in the clutch and turned the ignition, jerking my gaze to the dashboard. I put the car in reverse and turned the wheel, backing onto the asphalt.

  Caine opened his door and spotted the start line for me. “Whoa! Right here. Get off the line fast and that’s half the battle.”

  I nodded, watching the taillights on the Monte Carlo coming closer as my opponent reversed into place. I took a deep breath.

  “Don’t hold that wheel in a death grip. Worst-case scenario, you suck his dick. Do you wanna suck his dick, Shelby?”

  “No. I want head.”

  “That’s my girl.” He slapped my thigh. “Then go and get some.”

  The girl with the scarf—who was she? I never saw her anywhere but out here—skipped to the yellow line. I pressed the gas and caressed the shifter. The damn music from the car beside me went from loud to annoying. Caine switched on the stereo and shoved a CD into the slot. “This is all you, girl.”

  The first notes of Bad to the Bone, by George Thorogood and the Destroyers, shook the Barracuda.

  “Not Barracuda, by Heart?”

  He shook his head. “You gotta bring the heart.”

  “I nodded, then fastened my eyes on the scarf. It was just a race. Illegal. Nothing at stake really, unless you feared you’d never get out of this shitty little town. Unless you craved the approval of your stepbrothers, because no one else even acknowledged you were alive.

  The start girl’s hand went up. I revved the engine, letting the clutch out a bit. The song and resulting roar from under my hood drowned out the Monte Carlo’s motor. The scarf began to float toward the ground. I let the clutch out. The rear tires smoked, and the tranny caught. The big car under me gathered herself and leaped off the line. The front wheels left the pavement. I lost sight of the road for a moment.

  Watching the Monte Carol was a bad idea. So was setting my sights on the middle ground, I realized, as the rubber reconnected with the asphalt. So I focused on the finish line, even though I couldn’t see it. It was there, right up ahead and all I had to do was work the gears to get there.

  I sensed Caine yelling, but couldn’t hear his words. The road became a dark tunnel, but something was wrong. My headlights barely lit the asphalt. The tiny pool of light wasn’t enough to see by, but the off flash of neon that zipped past told me where the road was.

  I hit third, then fourth. The Monte Carlo was right there. I knew by his headlights. I pressed the gas pedal, but it had nowhere to go. Rocketing through the dark, the song faded and all I could hear was my heart.

  A tiny flash of white appeared and I realized the small gleam was the finish line.

  I shifted down and tapped the brakes. I barely had the car slowed by the time the turn-off appeared. The Monte Carlo turned into the side road.

  Caine had his cell phone out and was screaming like a wild man. “Shelby! You did it, girl! Whoo hoo! Colt better watch his back or you’ll be the best racer in our family.”

  “Caine?” I pressed the volume button with a shaking hand.

  “Yeah?” He rolled his head in my direction.

  “Why’d it seem so dark back there?” I made the turn and looked through the windshield again. My low beams lit the ragged weeds and surrounding woods, just like always, but....

  His laughter rang inside the car. “It’s called outrunning your headlights, girl.” He jerked his thumb.

  Mom had been right, my science was shaky, but.... “I didn’t break the speed of light.” I shook my head. That wasn’t possible, not in a car.

  “Just a phenomenon. You didn’t outrun them, technically, but the higher the speed, the less their effective range. They’re engineered to light a certain distance at a certain speed. You were going more than double that speed, so....” He shrugged.

  I followed the black car along the narrow side road, meditating on the effect. My body hummed and I was as wet as if Caine had his fingers inside me.

  “Pull around his goddamn ass,” Caine ordered when we reached the cul-de-sac. “Motherfucker thinks he won.” His offended tone made me nearly cry with laughter.

  I whipped the Barracuda from behind the Monte Carlo and roared past, pulling up beside Caroline’s Challenger. My headlights shined on Colt. He jumped up and down, pumping a raised fist. His eyes were glued to his cell phone, until he spied me. He ran to open my door. I depressed the button to unlatch my seat belt three times, finally lifting my hands. Laughing, Caine depressed the latch.

  “Shelby, baby. You did it! You kicked ass, girl!” Colt dragged me out of the car and into his arms, whirling me in a circle until my head spun. When he slowed, he let me watch the video of the finish. I’d honestly had no idea who won, but the pointed nose of the Barracuda was unmistakably first, by about two layers of chrome.

  A door slammed. The Monte Carlo’s driver, dressed all in black, stomped into the beam of my headlights, shaking his head.

  “Let me see that.” He grabbed Colt’s cell phone. I could hardly believe that Bad to the Bone still blared from my speakers.

  I turned toward Caroline. The man between her thighs was staring at his cell phone, too, despite the fact that his cock was inside her.

  Completely carried away by the moment, I elbowed Brandon aside and grasped her face, pulling her toward me. Her eyes went wide when I pressed my lips to hers, but when I slid my tongue into her mouth, she kissed me back.

  The cheers were deafening. I pulled away, smiling broadly.

  “What’s that for?” Caroline grinned back at me.

  “For teaching me to shift.” I turned away, only to collide with Colt. He lifted me into his arms. I gripped his hips with my knees and raised my fist. The twenty or so guys in the cul-de-sac began to clap and whistle.

  “Fuck me, I thought I had her.” The Widowmaker’s driver shoved the phone into Colt’s hand and reached behind his neck. Dragging his shirt over his head, he tossed it on my hood, accompanied by hoots and whistles from the guys standing around. Colt lowered me onto the hood. Even with the shirt under my ass, the hot metal seared my bare thighs. Just like being spanked. The heat traveled to my channel, adding to the throb between my thighs.

  The losing driver wasn’t bad looking. Dark curls gleamed in the harsh light. He was just as ripped as Colt or Caine. He shoved my skirt up with a crooked smile that revealed straight teeth.

  “If you were my girl, I’d fucking kill
any man who dared touch you.” To my shock, he leaned forward. He swept past my lips in a forceful motion, kissing me deep and hard.

  “Enough of that shit.” Colt’s hand on his shoulder dragged him away.

  “Yeah, yeah. I hear you, but goddamn, Colt, you’re nuts to bring her out here. She needs a National Hot Rod Association ID number and a fucking legit career.” He gripped my hips and bent forward. Looking up at me with blazing hazel eyes, he added, “I’ve never lost out here, you know.”

  “You’ve lost now, Collins.” Derision dripped from Colt’s tone, like I’d won by a mile rather than a hair.

  “I wanna fuck her,” he insisted. “I’ll get her off the loser’s way, but I wanna fuck her after. First,” he insisted.

  Colt locked gazes with him, then turned to me with raised brows and a smile so hot, my stomach lurched.

  “I want him.” I gasped, because the guy licked my clit.

  “Caine, grab the condoms. Baby’s getting her first fan fuck.”

  Colt leaned over me, kissing me hard and deep. I thought he kissed like he wanted me to forget the other man’s kiss. But, whatever his name was, I felt him. He penetrated me immediately with his tongue. I arched, and then Caine’s lips were at my breast. The guy between my thighs swapped his tongue for his finger, thrusting deep while he stroked my throbbing nub with his tongue.

  My victory, the intense sensation of three thrusting tongues, the buzz from the crowd of horny guys, all swirled inside me. Caroline’s cries and the grunts of the guy between her thighs added that peculiar layer of forbidden heat I was learning to crave. I climaxed almost immediately. He kept going, working my sensitive flesh until I pulled away from Colt.

  “Make him fuck me,” I demanded, scared by the intensity of the orgasm that hovered. This was so damn wrong, how could it feel so right?

  “He’s getting you off twice, Shelby. The ultimate compliment.” The comment came from Caine.

  Colt moved his mouth to my breast. The stranger continued to work my clit and added a second finger. I stared up at the stars, writhing in a stranger’s hands, while my stepbrothers sucked my nipples. The same act, but wildly different sensations hammered me.