Until then, he was forced to keep his tears deep inside, where they cut like ground glass. Bleeding him slowly to death.
Michael squirmed, beyond excited as Jeri scooped a spoonful of chocolate and began to drizzle the sauce from his chest to his belly. All over his turgid, leaking cock and aching balls.
“Mmm, he makes a nice hot-fudge sundae,” Jackie purred. She licked a trail of sauce streaking down his side.
“Banana split,” her sister corrected, crawling between his knees to grasp his cock.
One soft pair of lips suctioned a nipple while the other surrounded the spongy head of his cock. He hissed in pleasure as wet heat slid down his shaft, laving off the slick syrup. Two mouths driving him crazy, slender fingers kneading his balls, until he couldn’t remain passive any longer.
Gently, he pushed Jeri off his cock, ignoring her whine of protest. Sitting up, he reached around her and released the clasp on her bra, easing the straps forward. Her pretty breasts freed, he tossed the garment aside and cupped them, pinching the rosy nipples between his fingers. She moaned, leaning back to give him better access, and he bent, teasing one with his teeth and tongue.
“Lie back and let’s get these off,” he said, reaching for the waistband of her panties. She raised her hips and he slid them down, tossing them. “Spread your legs.”
Her knees parted to reveal slick, pink pussy lips and a small strip of pubic hair above, sculpted to accommodate her bikini line. Ordering her to stay there, he turned to Jackie and removed her undergarments as she wiggled in excitement. The twins were identical underneath their clothing, and he couldn’t wait to taste them both.
Moving between Jeri’s slender legs, he reached for the bowl, which had tipped in all the activity, spilling some chocolate onto the sheets. He hardly cared. Grabbing it, he dribbled some on her pussy, the action reminding him of a baker icing a pastry. A treat for him to feast upon. He set the bowl aside and positioned himself on his hands and knees between her thighs. Spreading his knees wide, he bent to her, ass in the air.
“Play with me, honey,” he said to Jackie. Then he flicked Jeri’s little clit, began to tongue the nub, relishing the smooth flavor of chocolate and woman. Parting the folds, he licked her slowly, hyperaware of her sister scooting on her back underneath him, between his spread thighs. Lining herself up with his cock.
“Fuck my mouth, big guy.”
Easing forward, he sank his length into that hot cavern, chills of pleasure dancing along his spine. “Damn! Yes, take it all, baby.”
Manipulating his balls, she opened her throat for him like a pro, urging him on. All the way in, her nose buried in his groin, sucking him, throat muscles squeezing. Slowly he fucked her face and ate the sweet cunt spread for him. The decadent noises of them slurping, making little sighs and moans of delight, brought him closer to the edge of orgasm than he wanted to be.
“Not yet,” he said hoarsely. “I want to fuck Jeri.”
“What about me?”
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re going to sit on my face while she rides me.” Shit, the image had him near exploding already.
“Yes!”
The three of them disentangled and Michael fetched a condom from the bedside drawer. While the pair argued over who got to put it on him, he performed the duty himself, sparing the women bloodshed. “Ready.”
Jeri straddled his hips, and he struggled not to come as she sank onto his rigid cock. Beautiful. Her body taking him in, hugging him like a velvet glove. Nothing finer than being buried in a woman’s pussy. Except eating it.
She began to fuck herself on his length while Jackie straddled his face. Gripping the headboard, she lowered herself to his waiting mouth. He nibbled and licked at first, teasing lightly, getting her there. It didn’t take long to drive her mindless, and soon she was moving, demanding more. He ate her then, sucking the needy flesh, savoring the juices coating his face.
His balls tightened and he thrust up into Jeri with rapid strokes. Flesh slapped on flesh, bodies seeking and taking. Enjoying each other. So wicked and so fine.
The orgasm sizzled in his balls and he couldn’t hold off. He shot hard with a shout, pumping furiously into his partner, and she joined him a second later. They rode the waves, and he remembered poor Jackie, trembling on the precipice because he’d gotten distracted. He latched on to her clit, working the nub, and it sent her flying in the throes of her own release.
Drinking greedily, he thrust and sucked until the woman moved off him and collapsed. They lay replete, grinning like fools, covered in sticky chocolate and cum. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in days; this was exactly what he’d needed to get rid of that weird tension he’d been experiencing around Bastian. He was simply starved for pussy—nothing more.
“Shower, sleep, and then rounds two and three,” he suggested. They ran giggling for the huge shower, and he followed, feeling pretty damned pleased with himself.
His world—at least the part regarding his orientation—was right again.
Life could go on.
Close to dawn, Michael awoke wrapped in fresh sheets and warm females. They were spooned together with Jackie in front of him, Jeri behind. His cock had awakened first and rode Jackie’s ass, and it apparently liked the way she was rubbing her rear against his lap. Half-asleep and not wanting to spoil the spontaneous moment, he carefully reached over her for one of the several condoms he’d left on the nightstand.
Fumbling, he opened the package and managed to cover himself. Smoothing a palm over one butt cheek, he dipped his fingers into the crevice between her thighs, urging her to spread for him. “Come on, sweet thing,” he whispered into her hair. “Let me in.”
“Oh yesss . . .”
She pushed back and he slipped into her pussy from behind. Gripping her exposed hip, he sheathed himself to the balls and began to move. Fucked her with languid strokes, increasing the tempo until his release gathered and shot from his balls. They shuddered together and went still, basking.
He fell asleep still inside her.
Bastian’s ears were bleeding.
Groans, sighs, and
thump, thump, thump
. All goddamned night long. Out of all the people in the house who didn’t sleep last night, he was the one who’d had the least fun. One word from Michael and things could get ugly, fast. With any luck, the asshole and his new friends were still comatose.
Shower and coffee. Lots of coffee, the only morning food that mattered.
Dressed in one of his best dark blue suits, white shirt, and tie, he jogged downstairs, a man on a mission.
Fill the travel mug, be nice to Simon and Mrs. Beasley, and get the hell out of Dodge.
Simple.
Would’ve been a great plan if Michael and two dazzling beauties weren’t huddled around the breakfast table, laughing, sipping orange juice, and nibbling croissants, having a splendid time. That Michael wasn’t an inconsiderate lover who kicked his bed partners to the curb at sunrise didn’t make Bastian feel one fucking bit better.
“Homicidal” is the word of the day, brought to you by the letter H.
Jesus. His attempt to sneak past the alcove where they were gathered was foiled by a friendly chirp.
“Oh, hello! Michael, introduce us.”
Bastian stopped in the doorway and faced the group, stifling a snarl.
“Yes, who’s your friend? God, he’s a cutie!”
So were the women, a fact he’d appreciate so much more were they not adorably rumpled and glowing from multiple climaxes. Bastian skewered Michael with a withering stare, and the man’s smile dimmed. Bastian remained silent, content to let him fumble.
“I, um, these are my . . . this is Jeri and Jackie,” he said weakly, waving a hand at them. “Girls, this is my best friend, Bastian.”
He had to admit, they
were
pretty cute, and gazing at him in open curiosity with guileless expressions on their identical faces. Despite his hurt, he didn’t have the heart to be rude to them. “Ladies, my pleasure.”
The one with red streaks in her hair swatted Michael’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us you had a supersexy best friend in the house? We should’ve invited him to play!”
Bastian raised a brow at Michael as if to say,
And why didn’t you?
A flush colored Michael’s cheeks. “Well, I—”
“Maybe Bastian doesn’t like the group scene, dingbat,” her sister said. Then she gave Bastian a speculative, hungry look. “Do you?”
Uh-oh. Caught like a three-legged antelope in a race with a lioness. He was in love with Michael, not dead. His best friend looked ready to disappear. . . . And suddenly Bastian was enjoying himself.
He gave her a wicked grin. “Which sister are you?” he asked the one who’d posed the question.
“I’m Jackie.”
“Actually, Jackie, I love group scenes. I love sex, period, with both women”—he shot Michael a pointed, heated look—“and men.” Let them assume what they would.
Jackie beamed. “Oh, wow!”
“Damn, I’ll bet that’s hot!” Jeri’s wide-eyed gaze bounced between him and Michael, brimming with speculation. And lust. “Can we watch? Please?”
The flush on Michael’s face deepened to the color of an eggplant. Bastian turned on the full force of his charm, taking evil delight in his friend’s discomfort. He’d feel bad later. Much later.
“Oh, I think our friend here might be a teensy bit shy about that sort of thing. He’s still in the closet, you know,” he said in a conspiratorial voice.
The girls nodded in tandem. “Hey, no problem,” Jeri said. But neither of the sisters could hide their disappointment.
“I’m
not
in the closet,” Michael said stiffly. His protest was ignored.
“Perhaps another time?” Bastian suggested in answer to Jeri’s suggestion. He glanced at his friend. Was it possible for a person’s head to explode?
“Sure!” they squealed together.
“Michael has our number,” Jackie informed him.
“I’m sure he does.” He gave them a wink. “Unfortunately, I have to run. One of us has to bring home the bacon, so to speak. Until next time?” He blew a kiss at Michael. “Later, sweetie.”
The women chorused their enthusiastic agreement while Michael sat in angry silence. And no wonder, with the ideas Bastian had planted in their pretty heads about their living arrangement. Michael was visibly furious that he’d insinuated they not only had sex, but were a permanent couple who played around.
Bastian couldn’t care less, especially after listening to those two vocalize their appreciation of Michael’s prowess all frigging night long.
Stalking through the kitchen, he bypassed the coffeepot and headed straight out the door. Fuck it; he’d drive through Starbucks. And order a triple-caffeinated, hot caramel mocha with four sugars and whipped cream. He’d stop by the gym after work and attempt to kill the calories, along with his frustration.
Turning out of the gate, he soon lost himself in mulling over the strain of living with Michael now that the man was almost recovered. He didn’t know how he’d be able to take another night like last night, but he wasn’t about to leave before Dietz was captured or killed. Preferably the latter.
He was so engrossed in his current misery, the vehicle following several cars behind him almost didn’t register. A silver sedan, nondescript, too far back for him to see the emblem on the grille or read the license plate—
Wait, there is no front plate.
It had been keeping pace with him for a few miles, never gaining, always leaving cars between them. An innocuous sedan among many, meant to attract no attention. An innocent motorist or a tail?
As planned, he drove to Starbucks, but decided to park and go inside rather than using the drive-through. Under any other circumstances, he might believe he was being overly cautious. The awful memory of Michael bleeding out on the ground cured that notion. If he was being followed, he’d know soon enough.
As Bastian pulled in to the Starbucks parking lot, the silver car turned in to a McDonald’s he’d passed about three businesses back, and got into the long drive-through line wrapped around the building. Bastian got out of his car, locked it, and strolled inside, the picture of a regular guy stopping for his daily jolt before heading to the nine-to-five. Not a care in the world.
The Glock resting in the holster underneath his suit jacket told a different story. He hadn’t been quick enough to save Michael from the assassin’s bullets, and could have just as easily been the one dying because he hadn’t seen danger coming. Never again.
Ten minutes later, he walked out carrying his caramel mocha and a small paper bag containing a cheese Danish, and casually glanced toward the McDonald’s. The silver car was almost to the pay window, if it was the same one. “Time to boogie,” he said under his breath.
Sliding into his car, Bastian set his drink in the holder, the bag on the passenger’s seat, and got under way. As he left the parking lot, the silver car abandoned the line, headed for the exit, and eased into traffic, once again keeping several car lengths between them.