Many Blessings

by Tymber Dalton

Every debauched, dirty fantasy she’d ever secretly had could now come true, only in stereo.

  Double my pleasure…

  She cried out around Brad’s cock again as Ellis used his hand to make her come again. And still they showed no signs of slowing.

  “I think,” Brad said, “we need to get one of those remote control egg things. Make her wear it during the day. And a butt plug. I can torment her all day long, and by the time you get off work, she’ll be jumping us.”

  Mandaline whined at the image, both the thought of it and the desire to do just that, letting them control that aspect of her life, the freedom to trust them.

  “I think she likes that idea,” Ellis said, relentlessly rubbing her clit and driving her toward yet another orgasm. “We’ll make her such a horny little witch she won’t have time to think about anything else but us fucking her brains out.”

  Her fingers couldn’t get purchase against Brad’s denim-clad thighs as the next orgasm curled her toes.

  Brad uncurled her braid from his hand and handed it off to Ellis, who pulled just enough to force her to arch her back. Brad’s fingers cradled her head. “Just stay there and enjoy it, baby,” Brad told her. “You aren’t the only one who’s had a dry streak, and we’re going to give you every reason in the world to want to keep us around.”

  “Just think,” Ellis added. “We get to do this all over again when the house is ready.”

  “Ooh, good point,” Brad said. “And there’s two sets of stairs there.”

  That mental image pushed her over the edge again. She sobbed around Brad’s cock, sucking and slurping it as her pussy clenched around Ellis’ cock. She was one giant ball of pleasure and need and knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life like this, with them.

  “Just like that, sweetheart,” Brad encouraged. “Suck my cock. I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

  She sucked harder, faster, wanting to taste it.

  Ellis let go of her hair and grabbed her hips. “Oh, that’s beautiful. You’re gorgeous. Look at you taking our cocks like this.”

  One last orgasm rippled through her, triggered by his cock perfectly hitting her G-spot inside her cunt. He started fucking her even harder, faster, with Brad holding on to her head and fucking her mouth until they both came almost at the same time with loud, unrestrained groans.

  She draped herself over Brad’s lap as Ellis flopped to the floor next to her. The giggle fit overtook her, completely unexpected, until she was laughing so hard tears rolled down her face.

  The men exchanged a puzzled look but didn’t interrupt her until she sat up and wiped her tears away.

  “Want to share?” Brad said.

  She giggled. “I wonder how many health department codes we’ll be breaking.” She doubled over with laughter again. She was still laughing when her cell phone rang on her desk in the office. She was going to ignore it when she realized it was Sachi’s tone.

  Nearly tripping over her own panties, she got to it in time. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Sachi sounded concerned, which concerned Mandaline.

  The way she addressed Mandaline concerned her even more. “Hey, hon. I’m sorry to bother you guys, but I have a problem.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Mandaline’s tone must have clued them in, because both men came running.

  “Um, I know it’s late, but I need to borrow Brad for a little bit. His expertise,” she quickly added, then even more quickly added, “I mean fixing things.”

  “Fixing what?”

  She sighed. “I’ve got a broken window…and what looks like half of Hernando County’s finest parked in front of my house.”

  * * * *

  They made it to Sachi’s house in record time, Ellis driving them in his car. There were still five deputies there, including a K-9 officer.

  Mandaline was practically out of the car before it stopped moving. She bolted through the line of officers to the open front door, where Sachi was talking to a detective.

  Holding back tears, she threw her arms around Sachi. “Are you all right?”

  “Shh, calm down, I’m fine. It happened right before I got home. My neighbor scared them away.”

  Mandaline still couldn’t help herself from looking her friend over to make sure for herself.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone tried to break in. They broke a window in the back bedroom, but it doesn’t look like they got into the house. Nothing’s disturbed.”

  The two men walked up. “Where is it?”

  “I’ll show you,” one of the deputies said, then led them inside.

  Mandaline grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re coming back with us to the apartment.”

  “Sweetie, it’s okay.”

  “No!” Mandaline felt terror threatening to rip her apart and she didn’t understand why. “No! You don’t have a damn alarm, someone tried to break in, you’re coming home with us and that’s all there is to it!”

  Sachi studied her for a moment before nodding. “Okay. If it’ll make you feel better—”

  “It will.”

  “Then I’ll come home with you guys.” She pulled Mandaline in for a hug.

  Mandaline fought the urge to break into tears of relief. She didn’t know why she felt so strongly about this, or if it was just because of losing Julie, but hearing that Sachi would come home with them immediately put her at ease.

  The men returned. “Sachi,” Brad said, “do you have storm shutters or something we can put up for tonight until I can get it fixed tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, in the garage. Plywood panels, stacked on the far side. They’re labeled. That window is labeled Bedroom 3.”

  The men disappeared again.

  Sachi stroked Mandaline’s hair. “Happy?”

  Mandaline vigorously nodded. “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling a little momma bearish right now.”

  Sachi hugged her again. “That’s okay. I’ll put up with it because it’s you and I luuubs you.”

  She laughed. “I luuubs you, too. Now let’s get you packed.”

  It was close to midnight before the police finished their investigation and the four of them got back to the store. Mandaline set Sachi up on the sofa, but any thoughts of getting frisky with her men again had fled. They’d agreed on heading over to her house to fix the window tomorrow morning, and Sachi would stay with them until she got an alarm installed.

  “Hey, I really appreciate this,” Sachi told them without a hint of snark. “Look, how about tomorrow afternoon I take you guys out skeet shooting.”

  Ellis nodded. “I’m game.”

  Brad frowned. “No, thanks. I appreciate the offer but I’ll pass.”

  The men headed to bed. Mandaline gave her one more hug. “Thank you for humoring me,” she said.

  Sachi nodded, still in serious mode. In fact, since the phone call, Mandaline hadn’t heard a single snark out of her. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

  They hugged one more time before Mandaline headed to bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sachi waited until Ellis was in the car with her Sunday afternoon and on the way to the skeet fields to ask it. He was glad she’d had enough tact to wait to ask. “Spill it. How come Tarzan looked like he was about to shit bricks when I offered to let him come with?”

  “How much did Mandaline tell you about us?”

  Her expression turned wary even though she didn’t look away from the road. “Why?”

  “Did she tell you Brad was in the Army?”

  “Yeah, he was injured.” She thought for a beat. “Ah.”

  “His PTSD isn’t as bad as it used to be before the motorcycle accident. Part of his new superpowers,” he joked. “But he doesn’t want anything to do with guns. He knows about my concealed carry permit and that I have one, but he wants nothing to do with them.”

  “Did he have to kill anyone?” she quietly asked.

  “He doesn’t like to talk about tha
t, but I think the answer is yes. He saw a lot of people die, including some he had to kill.”

  “Then I’ll make sure to remember not to tease him about not wanting to shoot skeet.”

  “I appreciate that. I’m sure he will, too.”

  She looked over at him when they hit a red light. “I might be a snarky, ball-busting bitch at times, but even I have my limits.” She gave him a playful smile.

  They reached the skeet field about ten minutes later. It was situated on a large parcel of land bordered by woods he suspected were part of the state forest. As she’d predicted, there were only five other cars in the large parking area.

  “Why skeet?” Ellis asked her as he followed her to the office. “Why not pistols or rifles?”

  He didn’t miss the way her jaw tightened. “It’s fun,” she said, although her voice sounded a little too tense. “I enjoy it. Been doing it since I was a kid. I’ll be twenty-seven this summer, so over fourteen years.” She turned and flashed him a too-bright grin. “Don’t need a concealed carry permit for a skeet gun.”

  “That seems to be a running theme with you. Why is that? Why don’t you get a carry permit?”

  She stopped so suddenly he had to side-step to avoid plowing into her. She looked down at her feet for a moment before looking up at him again. He had seen anger on her face, and good humor.

  But he wasn’t sure he wanted to try to label the expression she now wore. Somewhere between rage and terror.

  “Did Mandaline ever tell you about me? About how I came to live in Florida?” she softly asked, not a hint of snark or humor in her voice.

  He shook his head.

  She took a deep breath and looked around. “I guess lawyers are used to keeping their yaps shut. Come on.” She abruptly changed direction and headed toward a nearby picnic table, which sat in the shade of a makeshift shelter covered by a tarp.

  She sat straddling one of the seats. She waited until he’d sat across from her to start talking. “Once upon a time,” she said, “there was a girl from New Jersey. She was born and raised there, until she was thirteen and her airplane mechanic father decided he’d had enough of The Garden State. Despite his daughter’s objections and tantrums, he packed his wife and daughter up and moved them to Buttfuck Acres, Montana.”

  She’d clasped her hands together on the table next to her, her thumbs templed. “Middle school in a hick town sucks when you’re a preteen. Especially when your dad is Jewish and your mom is a first-generation Japanese American. Whatever mean nickname you can think of, the girl was called that by her classmates, and then some. The half-breed girl from ‘Jew Jersey.’”

  She looked down again for a moment before continuing. “Wasn’t a really big town. Middle school and junior and high school grades stuck together in the same place. So that just added to the girl’s misery. This went on for a couple of years. The girl had the same social studies teacher for those years. She taught multiple grades. She saw how alone the girl was and sat her down to have a talk with her. Mrs. Ellington. Junior skeet team coach. Asked her to come out that afternoon with her for practice.

  “Now, the girl’s parents were dead set against it at first. But the teacher was persuasive, and the girl begged and pleaded until they felt like crap and gave in. Long story short for that section of our tale, the girl loved skeet, and proved to be quite good at it. Which was a good thing, because despite being half Jewish and half Asian, she sucked at both math and science.

  “This, you might say, was a good thing, right? The skeet, I mean, not the math-science suckage. Something to do, a team sport, a way to get involved and fit in. And you’d be sooo fucking wrong. Because on this junior skeet team was one Jacob Clary. His father, Jackson Clary, was a Buttfuck Acres, Montana, deputy.

  “Jacob was a junior going on senior, on the football team, all the girls loved him, all the boys wanted to be him or secretly fuck him, yadda yadda yadda. Since he was the son of a deputy, he was usually the one getting everyone else into trouble and coming out clean while everyone else wallowed in his shit. Right? Following me?”

  Ellis nodded. “Yeah,” he quietly said, his gut tightening as he suspected where this was heading.

  “Jacob was also the only kid up until that point to shoot a clean hundred. Some of the other, older kids could shoot twenty-fives on the odd round, but Jacob had the highest overall scores.” She smiled, but it held no humor. “Until guess when?”

  Ellis didn’t need any psychic skills. “Until the preteen girl from Jew Jersey started shooting?”

  She nodded. “First day out, the girl, who’d never picked up a shotgun in her life, shot in three rounds a fourteen, an eighteen, and a twenty-one, in that order.”

  “I take it those are good scores?”

  “For a beginner, especially a kid, those are fucking amazing scores. There are adults who can’t even break twenty after months of shooting, much less their first freaking day on the field.

  “As you can well guess, Jacob took a little ribbing from his asshole buddies, that here was a girl, a city girl, a girl younger than him and far less experienced, shooting like she’d been born with an over-under in her hands and teethed on 12-gauge shells.”

  “He didn’t like it I take it?”

  “It cheesed him right the fuck off. Especially when the girl came back every practice and improved her scores. And her father, who was an airplane mechanic making decent money working on bush pilot planes and wilderness guide tour planes, bought her a brand-spanking-new, top-of-the-line Remington 12-guage over-under skeet gun so she’d have her own. A nicer gun than any of the other kids on the team had or could likely ever hope to afford. Some of the kids didn’t even have their own guns, but her dad wanted her to have the best he could afford for her because, for once, she’d quit acting like an unholy fucking brat and was finally enjoying Buttfuck Acres, Montana.”

  Ellis smiled. “A bribe?”

  “More like ensuring parental sanity. Even bought the girl a full reloader setup, which really made her a cool kid with most of the kids on the team.”

  “Except Jacob.”

  “You catch on quick, chief.” She looked down at her hands again. “The girl was on the team six months when she won her first state juniors competition,” she quietly said. “Jacob choked. Windy day, he missed two birds in one round, high house four and low six. His father was not pleased.”

  “Asshole perfectionist dad?”

  “Oh, yeah. With his sights on one day running for the office of sheriff of Buttfuck Acres.”

  She looked across the grounds to where someone with a small front end loader was racking cases of clays in a trap house. Her voice turned quiet. “Small town. So unlike New Jersey. The quintessential small town where no one locks their houses or their cars, the one stoplight in the town permanently blinks yellow, and the only likely traffic jam is if someone’s moving stock from one field to another across a county road.

  “The girl actually grew to love where she lived. New school year started. She ignored the assholes at school, because at least on the skeet team, she had a place. The others looked up to her, even older kids. Kids were asking her for pointers instead of Jacob, asking her to pull for them if the coach wasn’t there, or they wanted an extra practice, asking her to spot them to see what they were doing wrong, asking her to help them reload or pattern their guns or whatever.”

  “Jacob wasn’t cool anymore.”

  “Not with those kids he wasn’t.” She went quiet for a moment. He didn’t interrupt her, because despite his certainty what was coming, he hoped he was wrong.

  Hoped the ending of the story would turn out better than he suspected it would.

  “The girl’s mom went to work as a receptionist at a dentist’s office in a town a few miles away. She got off work fairly early, usually home by three or so. On that day, she’d stopped by the grocery store first. So when the girl got home from school after two o’clock, and it wasn’t a practice day, she had the house all to herself.
>
  “Someone knocked on the door. Girl went to go answer it, found it was Jacob himself. He pushed his way in and…” Sachi took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re an attorney. You connect the dots.”

  He nodded.

  “The girl had tried to run. Made it as far as the dining room in the back of the house. It was right at the end of the attack that the mother showed up, but Jacob had been too busy…doing his thing that he hadn’t heard her.”

  Sachi’s face paled. “She started screaming,” she quietly said. “Dropped the groceries she had in her arms and started beating on his head. The mother was a tiny woman. He shoved her against a wall and started hitting her. They both fell to the floor, him on top of her. He was three of her. He had his hands around her neck to choke her. Wouldn’t stop.”

  She took another deep breath. Her gaze dropped to her hands. “The girl picked up the first thing she laid her hands on, which was a large can of baked beans that had fallen from the grocery bags.”

  Her hands clenched into trembling fists as her voice dropped to a whisper. “And she hit him in the back of the head as hard as she could to get him off her mom. Again. And again. And again. Even when he rolled off the mom and his arms and legs started jerking, she hit him again. And again. And again. And she screamed. Then finally the can was so dented and slick from blood that she lost it and it rolled across the floor.”

  She wouldn’t look up, her face tortured agony. “The girl finally managed to call 911. Guess who the responding officer was?”

  “Oh, shit.”

  She closed her eyes for a minute. “Autopsy said Jacob broke the mother’s neck. Jacob’s father tried to make it look like we…like the girl and the mother had attacked his son, who was still alive, by the way. But the EMTs who responded immediately called for more law enforcement backup. Fortunately, they could tell what really happened. Especially when they caught him in the act of trying to choke the girl.”

  When she looked up, Ellis saw her blue eyes were too bright, as if unshed tears lurked near the surface. “Jacob lingered on life support for nearly a month. The father was fired and brought up on an array of various charges, including assault, attempted murder, all those lovely things. Jacob’s mother finally had life support pulled because he was brain dead and being kept alive on a ventilator. Jacob’s mother went home after she did it and took a hot bath, a full bottle of Valium, a quart of vodka, and a couple of razor blades across her wrists. People say it was a moving double funeral, as far as those things go.”