
Thanks to my wonderful editor, Lindsey, for her faith in me,
and to my redheaded hellion who reminds me why sometimes
animals eat their young---I love you!
Marti Kowalski waved a hand blindly behind her at her desk, swiping the inventory sheets she'd slaved over for two days, and her telephone, to the floor. She didn't care about the mess---or by the crunch---the loss of her phone. Right this moment, she had Jackson where she wanted him---too far gone with want to worry what damage he might cause.
His body was hard; his expression carved to a lustful edge, which promised the kind of sexy interlude she preferred---something spontaneous and surprising.
Even after all the months they'd been seeing each other, he managed to surprise her. Like now. He'd pulled her from the door of the ladies' restroom and goose-stepped her with her arm bent behind her back to the manager's office, growling menacingly into her ear about the wicked things he'd do to her.
Ma'am, keep quiet and I won't hurt you.
She'd shivered at the menace in his voice, but he'd rubbed her hip gently to remind her this was just a game.
She had to hand it to him. He knew what made her hot.
Jackson bent her over her desk and shoved up her blouse. His head ducked to pluck a nipple with his lips, and then he bit it.
"I wasn't expecting you," she gasped, her fingers digging into the rigid Kevlar armor he wore beneath his dark shirt. "You're on duty. Thought you didn't cross that line when you're wearing the uniform."
His head reared back. His dark eyes flashed. "Shut up, ma'am. You draw any attention, and I might have to get rough."
So he was still playing the role. She widened her eyes. "Please, sir, I'll do anything." She tried to infuse a little angst into her voice, but inside she was laughing uproariously.
A glint of humor in his gaze might have just been the reflection of the overhead light because it quickly extinguished. He bared his teeth. A hand snuck between her thighs. A finger tucked beneath one side of the crotch of her panties and tugged. Elastic stretched and gave. His palm crammed against her bare pussy.
There was no hiding how turned on she was. Not when cream smeared his hand.
"Fuck, you're hot." He drew back, gripped her by the waist and gave her a little shake---just to remind her who was in charge here.
Her head bobbed backward. Her heart skittered at the strength in those large, hard hands. He could so easily hurt her, but was careful to give her just the right kind of pain.
Nostrils flaring, he did a good impression of a criminal intent on doing her bodily harm. She guessed he saw enough of them in his line of work to mimic the look.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Sure this is the way you wanna play it?"
"Baby, don't stop now," Marti moaned.
His grunt accompanied the tightening of his hands on the corners of her hips. He gave no warning and whirled her around, then pushed gently on the back of her neck until she folded over her desk.
Her short leather skirt lifted. Hands gripped her cheeks and squeezed. His mouth pressed against her skin.
She huffed. "What kind of a rapist are you?"
"One with an ass fetish."
She giggled and reached back to push him away, wriggling on the desk like she wanted to escape. "Stop," she whispered huskily. "Stop or you'll be sorry. My boyfriend's a Memphis PD cop."
Another grunt was his only response. He straightened, his hard body rubbing against the back of her thighs and ass. An arm clamped over her lower back, holding her down. A zipper scraped. His cock nudged against her folds, thick, insistent---lord, Jackson was completely into this naughty game. He found her entrance and drove deep inside in a single, merciless thrust.
Her body arched off the desk. "Oh shit!"
"Did I hurt you?" he muttered, deeply embedded, but unmoving.
Didn't he know how to play this game? "You're gonna pay, you bastard," she said with an edge of a sob in her voice, but she wiggled her butt to let him know it was okay to proceed.
He withdrew slowly then stroked deep again. This time his hands slammed the wood on either side of her shoulders. "Stick it up higher, slut," he growled. "My balls are bangin' the desk."
Slut? He'd never called her that before. She held back a chuckle, hoping the playacting wouldn't end too soon. Jackson could only keep his focus up to a certain point. Not that she'd truly mind it when he dropped the act. Knowing she was the reason he couldn't stay in control gave her deep satisfaction. She rose on tip-toe and tilted up her ass.
His cock crowded through juicy, engorged walls, filling her up like no man ever had before. Maybe he really was that big, or maybe she'd never been so excited. Jackson was the best lover she'd ever had---the most adventurous with the most stamina. That his body was ripped like a bodybuilder's only added to his dangerous appeal.
She gave a short, throaty groan. "Ohmygod, that feels incredible."
A knock sounded at the door.
"Go away," she shouted. To Jackson, she whispered, "Hate to say it, but we might have to rush this a bit."
Another, harder rap sounded. "Hey, Jackson, you in there?"
Marti relaxed and pushed backward to take more of Jackson's large cock. It was only his friend, Craig Eason, letting them know he was playing lookout. Not something he hadn't done before.
"Fucker," Jackson bit out, banging her ass faster.
Marti snickered then gasped when he swirled inside her to stroke her most sensitive spot. "Think he knows what we're doing?"
"He will if you keep making that noise."
"What noise?"
He banged her again. "That bleating noise."
"You saying I sound like a goat?"
"More like a fluffy little lamb. It's cute." A kiss landed on the back of her neck. "He'll pick the lock if we don't wrap it up."
Marti widened her stance and tilted just a little higher, needing more of her pussy smacked by his sharp, forceful thrusts. "That something he learned at the police academy?"
"Nah. Craig wasn't always a good guy."
Marti suspected Jackson was cut from the exact same cloth. Sure, he was an attentive boyfriend, kind to kids and dogs, but when he looked at her, sometimes she got the feeling there was something deeper and darker lurking in his past. Or maybe it was just the hardened criminals he dealt with rubbing off on him.
Her pussy swelled, getting hot and so wet Jackson was swimming in her arousal. She aimed a smile over her shoulder. "Baby, I'm ready to rumble whenever you are."
"Shut up, lady," he said, his voice rough as gravel again. "Think you can take this?"
"Man," she moaned, "my boyfriend's soooo gonna kill you."
Jackson covered her back, jerking his hips to tunnel deeper. "Does he do it for you? Can he do it as good as I can?"
She faced forward to hide her expression. "His cock's bigger."
Laughter shook against her, and she grinned, gripping the far edge of the desk as she tried to hold still under a battery of hard thrusts.
Her inner walls melted all around him. Her pussy pulsed, clasping tightly then weakening, then tightening again. She dragged in deep breaths. "God, Jackson, I'm close."
He hammered harder. "It's okay, baby. I'm right there with you."
Marti pushed up on her arms with her head thrown back as she did indeed bleat a series of soft, staccato moans. Jackson's own noises were more of a dog-like panting. Something she thought odd to think about at a time like this, but he'd made her self-conscious about her sex sounds.
"Stop thinkin'," he rasped.
"You pant like a dog," she groused.
"I like your bleats. If you didn't do it, I'd know I was doin' something wrong."
"Just finish it." Finish me!
And he did, changing his grip on her hips and shortening his thrusts, sharpening the finish with each precise stroke. Friction burned inside her, fluid gushed to add another juicy aspect to the bumping, bleating, panting cacophony echoing around her tiny office.
A knock sounded again.
"Go away!" they shouted in unison only to hear muffled laughter from the hallway.
The thought of what Craig must be hearing was enough to shoot her over the top. She didn't even try to hold back her strangled scream as she came.
Jackson grunted once more then gave a hoarse shout. Come pulsed inside her.
"I'm so glad we aren't using rubbers anymore," she said.
A hoarse bark of laughter jolted her. As she fell from the high, the sharp edge of the desk cut into the bend of her thigh. She eased her heels to the ground and slumped against the sweaty wood.
A hard hand cupped her shoulder. "Keep lookin' straight ahead. Don't move a muscle. I'm gonna back away. You move, you'll be sorry."
"I won't move," she said with a lazy drawl, "but only 'cause I can't."
His cock withdrew. A zipper rasped. The door whooshed open, and she turned in a panic to glance over her shoulder.
Craig stood in the doorframe. His eyebrows shot up.
Jackson shoved his buddy's shoulder. "You can look, bro, but only 'cause she'll like it."
Marti's gaze locked with Jackson's as both men stared at her bent over the desk, her skirt flipped up and her bare ass and pussy pointed right their way.
Jackson winked then pulled Craig by the arm, closing the door behind them as they left.
Facing forward again, she waited until her breathing evened and her legs stopped feeling like rubber then slowly pushed up. Once more, Jackson Teague had surprised her.
Damn, but he really did get her.
Jackson checked his zipper and adjusted his utility belt as he followed Craig down the darkened corridor and out the back exit of the bar.
"You always talk that much during sex?"
Jackson shrugged. "It turns her on. Just takes a little practice---and stamina."
Chuckling, Craig shook his head. "Did you ask her?"
Jackson grimaced. "Never had a chance. Didn't expect to barrel into her in the hallway---but then it was all over. Besides, Gus is probably right. She might not be the hearts and flowers kind of girl, but I should still make a gesture. Show her how much she means to me."
"Got any ideas?"
"Not a one."
"Maybe if we get in a huddle with the others..."
Jackson blew out a deep breath. "We aren't plannin' a quarterback rush. I wanna marry her, not mow through her defenses. I want her to want it too. But every time I get near the subject, she finds an excuse to get away or distracts me." And his attention span wasn't what it used to be. One whiff of perfume, a flash of her bare skin, and he was a goner.
Pushing through the steel door and out into the alleyway, his buddy Craig shook his head. "You gotta have a strategy. A game plan. Marti isn't your typical woman."
"Which is exactly why she's the one for me. I can't get her out of my mind, Craig. She's makin' me nuts."
Craig slung an arm around his shoulder. "You're drivin' us all nuts, buddy. Figure out why she's so cagey about puttin' a name on what you two have."
They headed left toward Beale. Jackson squinted into the hot, late afternoon sun. "She thinks she's all wrong for me."
"Because she has a blue streak in her hair and an ink sleeve?"
Jackson sighed. "I'm a cop. She doesn't see herself as 'proper spousal material'. Her words."
Craig shrugged then narrowed his eyes at him. "She does stand out. You haven't introduced her to your mother yet, either. Are you sure you're ready for it?"
No matter that he was thirty years old, his mother would have taken a willow switch to his ass if she'd heard him call a woman a slut---even in play. Mary Teague had been married to a cop and was tough as nails. He'd been wary of introducing the two women. Despite Marti's feistiness, he worried that his mom would scare her off.
Yeah, Craig had a point. He had to be every bit as willing to commit to this relationship---or whatever it was they had. "I like the blue. And I like the damn tattoo. Mom'll just have to get past that."
Truth was, he didn't really mind Marti's unconventional appearance. The blue streak perfectly matched her large, beautiful eyes. The tracery of rose brambles and red blooms on her arm suited her prickly but feminine demeanor. He also didn't mind that she dressed in leather, had a nose piercing and worked in a bar. The cosmetic enhancements only made her small heart-shaped face look younger and more vulnerable---not a sentiment she'd appreciate.
Since the first night he'd spotted her in The Emerald Tavern, he'd known he had to have her. The feeling had only gotten stronger over time.
Marti might look as though she was completely wrong for him, but when he held her in his arms their differences melted away. He just wished he could figure out a way to convince her they belonged together.
"Be straight with her," Craig said, dropping his arm. "Ask her to be the same with you. Once you know what it is you have to tackle, then we'll come up with a game plan."
"We?" He gave Craig a sideways shove, like they used to do in high school.
Craig shoved right back and grinned. "Yeah, what are friends for? Besides givin' your girl a thrill?"
He never thought he'd need his friends to help him win a woman. But then he'd never had a more stubborn adversary. "Thanks, man."
"Buddy, I've got your back." Craig cleared his throat. "Hope you don't mind my sayin' but your girl's ass---"
Jackson elbowed Craig's ribs, slamming against his protective vest. "Don't suppose you're gonna keep that to yourself?"
"You showed me your woman's pussy. What the fuck do you think?" Craig chuckled. "So tell me, does she wax or did you shave it?"
"Shut the fuck up." Jackson flashed a grin but straightened his shoulders. "Think we can get back to business? Did you get us something to eat?"
"Burgers and fries." Craig hit the remote on his key ring as they approached the squad car parked at the curb. He grabbed a brown bag from the passenger seat then held it out for Jackson.
They'd been canvassing the area, working as a pair, gathering information for the robbery detectives investigating a recent spree of hold ups in the downtown area. They had taken a late lunch break---but he hadn't been able to resist slipping into the bar to see his girl. Now, they'd have to eat between calls, and the food was cold.
Their next stop wasn't very far. Jackson took a handful of fries and stuffed them in his mouth before entering the next establishment on their list.
It was the site of the second robbery on this block in a week. During the first, the robber put the clerk and a couple customers in the novelty shop on the floor when he fled. This time, he duct-taped the restaurant's cashier, a couple of waitresses and the cook, and left them in a storage room where the next shift found them.
Jackson didn't like to think of Marti facing the same scenario. But who would have the balls to rob a cops' bar? Still, he'd have a little talk with her tonight about safeguards she should put into place. Maybe they'd do some roleplaying too. The thought had him grinning as he followed Craig inside the restaurant.
Marti struggled to regain her breath. "Take it back!"
Jackson's jaw firmed. Right along with the cock pushed deep inside her. He had her trapped beneath his beefy body, covered from chest to toe.
What a dirty trick---asking her to marry him when she'd been that close to coming. She shoved at his shoulders. "Get off me."
"Not until we talk this out. If I let you up, you'll run."
Pushing out her lower lip, she glared, although she was pretty sure the effect was blunted by the fact her mouth was already swollen after the blowjob she'd given him at the front door as soon as he'd arrived. "I take it back," she muttered.
"Which part? The 'Oh God, you're so fucking good'? Or the 'I love you'?"
"Both. You're a jerk."
"I'm a jerk who's still waitin' for an answer."
She exhaled a shaky gust of air. "Well, the answer's no."
Marti expected some disappointment. Maybe even a little anger, but he only smiled.
Which irritated the snot out of her. Narrowing her eyes, she met his steady stare. "I mean it."
Jackson grunted. "I know you do."
"So why are you still here?"
His eyebrows did a sexy up and down waggle. "Where? Inside you? Or not slammin' through the door?"
She huffed a breath, trying to ignore the fact her pussy was getting wetter by the moment. "Both."
"I'm a cop, testing soon to be a detective. I don't take a statement at face value. I dig deeper."
She arched a brow. "You couldn't get much deeper than you are right now."
"You weren't complainin' about that a minute ago."
"A minute ago, I didn't know you were gonna spring something like that on me. Marry you? As if!"
"What's wrong with the idea?"
"I'm wrong. Look at me."
They'd left on the lights on the nightstands---Jackson's preference. His gaze burned a trail down her body, all the way to where their two bodies joined, then slowly back up again. "I don't see the problem. We fit."
She ground her teeth. It was sweet and all that he seemed blind to their incompatibilities, but someone had to look out for him---for his own good. "I don't have a college degree. Hell, I don't even have a high school diploma."
"Do you think I'll look down on you one day because you don't have a piece of paper hangin' on the wall? You're better traveled than me. And you speak three languages."
"I have blue hair."
"A pretty blue streak. It matches the color of your eyes."
"I have a tattoo and more piercings than a tuna fish."
"Your tattoo makes me hot."
She deepened her scowl. "Everything makes you hot. What happens when you take me to the policemen's ball and the wives turn up their noses at me?"
"What century do you live in? A lot of them have ink."
"You don't," she muttered. "Bet your family doesn't." Not that she knew for certain because she'd never met any of them. He didn't mention them much either, which had made her wonder whether he was ashamed of her.
Jackson kept right on swirling his hips, screwing slowly into her. "Would you feel more on a level playing field if I got a tattoo or two? I'd wear a heart with your name on it. I'll even let you choose where. Arm or ass?"
How'd he expect her to stay mad when he moved like that? When he gave her a lazy forward thrust, she all but purred like a kitten. "You'd do that for me?"
Jackson settled on his elbows and cupped her face between his hands. "Baby, I'd do anything for you. I want to marry you. Have children with you."
This close, his jaw tight with lust, but his expressive eyes soft and warm, it was hard to stay annoyed. She wrinkled her nose. "Can you imagine me with the soccer moms?"
His snort was all male. "My boys'll play football."
"What if I don't want kids?"
He grunted. "But you do."
"Yeah, but what if?"
"We'd talk through whatever worries you have." He moved again, this time easing out---so slowly her channel clenched all along his length to hold him inside.
"I never pegged you as lackin' in confidence," he growled.
The warm whiskey of his deep voice sent a prickly shiver across her belly. "I'm not. At least, not usually," she gasped. "But...I'm not ready to get married. I've told you that before."
He sighed, pushed his cock back inside then aligned his legs on either side of hers to clamp her thighs closed. "Tell me your concerns. We can work through them."
Despite the languid heat causing her body to yield, she thought fast. "It's not so much concerns as I have this bucket list." At the arch of his brow, she glanced away. "It's a list of things I have to do before I die."
"And you can't do them after we're married?"
"Um, some of them are things I would never do after I have a husband."
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What kinds of things?" Gone was the husky, seductive note in his voice. He'd bitten each word. The body weighing her down slowly turned rigid.
"You won't like it," she said softly, eyeing him with defiance.
"Maybe I'll be in agreement---after I hear you out---and then you'll have won the argument."
But she didn't want to win. Not really. She just wished he'd stop thinking that they had something more than this. "But I don't want..." Her eyes stung with unshed tears.
His expression lost a little tension. His dark eyes smoldered. "You don't want what, baby? You can tell me anything."
"I don't want this to end before it's supposed to," she whispered.
Jackson sighed. "Did you ever think that maybe it's not supposed to end? Baby, I love you. You love me. It's really pretty simple."
She shook her head. If it was so simple, why did her stomach feel like it was tangled up in a knot?
Jackson sighed. "What's on the list? Show it to me."
How? She didn't have a list, just a notion that she needed to stall. "It's not written down. It's...in my head."
"Are these things sexual in nature?"
That made her blink. And gave her an idea. She nodded, a blush heating her cheeks. She'd win this argument. There was no way he'd agree to fulfill her secret desires. Not when they were too wicked to voice and mostly against every law known to a straight-arrow kind of guy like Jackson.
The corners of his mouth eased upward a fraction. "Tell ya what, you write it all down for me."
"I'll write it down and leave it on the table. That way when you read it, I won't have to see your face."
"Will it be that bad?"
"That naughty," she whispered. "Things a girl fantasizes about doing just once before she's leg-shackled."
His mouth curved. "And why do you think I'll be mad?"
"Because I know you. I know how territorial you are. If you were a dog, you'd piss all over me to keep every other horn dog away."
"So this has to do with another guy? Anyone I know?"
"No one I know. Let's not talk about it now, Jackson." She slid a hand between their bodies and reached down to ring the root of his cock with her thumb and forefinger. "I got you off. Turnabout's fair play."
"Feelin' neglected?" he murmured.
She walked her fingers over the crest of his shoulder. "Yes, and ugly. You're all the way up inside me and haven't moved. Makes a girl wonder if you're bored." She squeezed her pussy around him just to watch the heat flare in his eyes.
Air left him in a slow breath. "Do that again," he whispered.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, tightening first the mouth of her vagina then pulling him inward to caress his length.
His hips dipped, digging his cock between her closed thighs. "We're not finished talkin'."
"I'll make your damn list---just fuck me, Officer Teague."
His legs shifted, and his knees pushed one at a time between her thighs. She opened eagerly, bending her legs to cup either side of his hips as he settled into the space she made.
Jackson dipped down and kissed her, rubbing her lips with a lazy wag of his head. "Baby..."
"Mmmmm?"
"It's gonna get rough."
She grinned. "Do I look scared? I had a molester do me in my office today, and I didn't scream once."
"You screamed exactly once. Craig can verify."
"Craig better keep the rest of the details to himself."
"Don't count on it," he muttered. His hands slipped beneath her, arms wrapping tightly around her back. She savored the hug, accepting the comfort.
Only comfort wasn't really what he had in mind.
He reared back on his knees, lifting her from the bed, their bodies still connected.
She caught her breath and grabbed for his shoulders. They knelt face-to-face; she straddled his lap. Liquid seeped from inside her, the wet warmth surrounding him, coating her.
Scooting her knees in closer, she took her weight and began a sexy little up and down bounce that pulled and pushed on his cock because she hugged him inside as well, her feminine grip constricting around him.
He groaned and sank his forehead against her shoulder. "Tryin' to kill me?"
"It'd be murder one. Think they'd let me off for good behavior?"
"I'd come back from the grave to testify I died with smile on my face."
Marti's breaths shortened to strained rasps. "Baby?"
"Umm?"
"I gotta move real bad, but I don't think I can. I'm starting to shake." And she was, a delicious quiver prickling the skin of her belly and weakening her thighs.
Hands clamped on her ass. He raised his face, and there was that look again---the feral, hard-edged lover who took no prisoners.
A shiver of feminine fear shook her. She cupped his cheeks with her palms and bent slowly toward him.
His chest rose and fell. His nostrils flared.
Tilting her head to align their noses, she brushed his firm mouth once with her wet lips, then again more insistently, knowing instinctively that when she went soft and pliable, his arousal grew more intense.
Sure enough, a low, rumbling growl worked its way up his throat. His mouth opened to capture hers, his tongue pushing past her lips, invading her to thrust against her tongue. Then his hands squeezed her ass and lifted her off his cock, his whole body tightening so she felt every flex of muscle against her chest, her belly, her inner thighs. He slammed her down, his thick, hard rod forcing guttural gasps.
She broke with his kiss and clutched his shoulders for support because he was moving her relentlessly up and down, his arms straining, his face sharpening, reddening.
Their gazes locked. She felt as though the room became smaller, her sight constricting until she saw only his taut features.
Her breaths grew more shallow, chopped apart by the hard, downward thrusts. His breaths were coming faster, too, accompanied by manly grunts, the same sort of sound he made when he worked out, sounds she adored because she loved this big, powerful man and the way he dwarfed her, overwhelmed her at every turn.
Inside, her core heated, melted. Her channel rippled, clasping at his cock. She felt every ridge and vein as her tender walls were crowded, rubbed relentlessly---until at last she gave a whimper.
Her head fell back, her mouth stretching open. The beaded tips of her breasts tangled in the dark fur of his sweaty chest, and everywhere their skin touched she burned. Her orgasm built, pushed higher now by the motion of his thighs, lifting him to thrust upward as he jerked her down.
It was too much, too powerful. Tears leaked from her eyes, and her back arched. At the height of the explosion, she gave a strangled scream and dug her nails into his skin, holding tightly because she was shattering.
"That's it. That's it," he rasped. "Fuck. So beautiful. Fuck..."
Scalding spurts of come jetted inside her, but he continued rocking upward. His hard hands drove her down and up, his fingers digging into her ass.
Gradually, she came back to herself and leaned into him, pressing her face into his shoulder as he shuddered through his own orgasm.
Marti kissed his cheek and ruffled his short hair with her fingertips, soothing him until his breathing evened out. "I like this part too," she whispered.
He turned his head and kissed the corner of her neck. "This is good... What we have. Give us a chance, Marti."
She swallowed hard. Lord, how he tempted her. But she'd be selfish to cave in now. He needed to know more about her, be sure in his mind as well as his heart that they could make this work, because once she committed, she knew she'd wither up and die if he ever changed his mind.
Jackson fingered the envelope he'd stuffed into his pocket before he'd headed out the door to work. Marti had still been sleeping when he'd left. Apparently, she'd snuck from their bed sometime in the early morning hours to leave him this.
It had to be The List.
He smiled, thinking about the way she'd looked, so stubborn and scared all at once, as she'd talked about her bucket list of sexual fantasies.
He laid the envelope on the bench in front of his locker and stripped off his jeans. As he was reaching for his uniform, he heard the pad of footsteps nearing.
"By that smile, I take it she said yes."
Jackson aimed a glance over his shoulder. Craig stood behind him, already in uniform, a crooked grin stretching his mouth.
"Nope," Jackson said, his voice uninflected.
Craig's glance went to the envelope. "She give you a love letter?"
"Not quite. It's a list."
Craig's eyebrows rose.
"It's a bucket list of fantasies. Things she says she has to do before she marries."
"And you haven't opened it?" Craig bent and swiped the envelope from the bench.
Jackson straddled the bench and lunged at Craig, but the other man backed nimbly away, raising the envelope over his head.
"Maybe I should read it first," Craig said, grinning.
"Bastard, give it back."
"No way. You've been grumpy as hell for weeks. I've put up with you bitin' off my head, played lookout while you screwed your girl---I've earned this. Besides, it's unopened. You're scared to know what's inside."
Jackson lowered himself to the bench and crossed his arms over his white T-shirt. "All right. Read it. But not a word to the other guys."
Craig shook his head. "You know you really shouldn't trust me. Not when it comes to your love life. The guys are enjoyin' the hell out watchin' Marti make you squirm and grovel."
"I don't grovel."
"But you've never worked this hard to get a girl's attention. You've never had to."
Jackson grunted. "Roll call's in fifteen. Read the damn thing." He tightened his jaw, warning Craig silently that he wouldn't take much more teasing.
Craig slid a nail under the flap and opened it. He drew out one sheet of folded paper, arched a wicked eyebrow at Jackson then scanned the front before flipping it over to read the back. His lips twitched, he cleared his throat then quickly handed the list to Jackson. "Yeah, you better read it. I think you're gonna have some problems here."
Jackson took the note, smiling inside as he read the opening line, picturing Marti chewing her bottom lip as she rambled on before getting to the point.
Before you read my list, you have to know how much you mean to me. How much I look forward to seeing you at the bar, and rushing back to the apartment to greet you at the door when your shift ends. What we have is good. You were right about that, but...
There's something inside me. That gypsy part of me that gets restless sometimes. It's why I backpacked alone across Europe, tended bar in Bali, counted birds on Padre Island. I get these ideas...
Well, just know I care about you more than I ever have any other man, and it's not that you don't fulfill me in bed either, it's just---I have these dreams. Things I have to do, even if it's just once. Okay, so I've blathered a bit. If you're serious about what you asked me, flip the page.
Jackson's smile slipped. His gaze shot to Craig whose expression, for once, was free of any teasing.
His heart thudded dully in his chest. He took a deep breath then turned the sheet over.
Two days later, Jackson sat at his usual table with his buddies in The Emerald Tavern, eyeing Marti's flushed face as she worked the bar. She hadn't glanced his way except once when he'd first arrived.
Things had been strained between them since he'd read the note. Although they'd gone through the motions, the part of their relationship that made it so different than anything he'd experienced before was absent, crushed beneath the strain of the damn list.
"So's the honeymoon over?"
Jackson shot Craig with a stinging glare then scanned the rest of his friends. Thursday was the one day of the week where their schedules allowed them to meet. They slouched in their seats. Condensation glistened on the sides of their beers. Not something that happened often because the first beer was always eagerly consumed.
Absent were the rowdy laughter and crude jokes. Not a single gibe had been aimed his way, even though his attention was snagged, as usual, by the curvy brunette behind the counter.
Beau McIntyre cleared his throat. "Craig said you needed some help with something." Humor glinted in his slanted, dark brown eyes, but his features were difficult to read. Although he was only half Asian, the other half African American, inscrutable was still a word that fit his neutral expression. If he was laughing inside, no hint shown in his dark eyes as he watched Jackson.
Jackson glanced at Craig, frowning, wondering if he'd spilled the beans about The List. "I don't need help with a goddamn thing."
"Yeah," Beau said, his tone dripping sarcasm. "I can see things are peachy between you and Marti. She hasn't been to our table even once. I'd say she's avoiding us."
"She's avoidin' me."
Gus Taggert's seat creaked as he shifted his large frame. "Can't say as I blame her. You're givin' her the stink-eye."
Jackson glanced away from Marti and turned his full attention back to the rest of his friends, flicking to Beau who challenged him with his steady stare, then moving on to the rest of his crew whose varied expressions all showed disapproval or concern.
Gus frowned. He adored Marti and likely thought whatever had happened between them was all Jackson's fault.
Mondo Acevedo's dark eyes glittered with devilment.
Craig's expression was carefully neutral. But then he knew what the problems were.
These were his best buddies. Gus and Craig he'd known since high school, having played varsity football together. They'd met Beau and Mondo in the academy seven years ago and quickly bonded over Saturday touch football and chasing women. He trusted every one of them with his back. But Jesus, could he trust them with his woman?
"Guys, I have a problem."
"We're here for you, Jack," Mondo said, his smile fading as he waited.
"Marti's got some issues."
Mondo's brow arched. "Doesn't everybody?"
"Yeah, but she's got issues with commitment."
Mondo grunted. "You asked her to marry you? She say no?"
Jackson nodded.
"She say why?"
Jackson's cheeks billowed as he blew out a breath. "She gave me a list."
"Of reasons why she won't marry you?"
He grimaced. "No, of things she has to do before she settles down."
Mondo shrugged. "Those things---can they be accomplished here in Memphis?"
"Yeah, I guess. But they're...sexual things. Fantasies."
"And you've got a problem with that?" At Jackson's sudden glower, both of Mondo's eyebrows rose higher. "Does she want to watch you do another guy?"
Jackson huffed. "Fuck no."
"Then what's the freaking problem?"
Jackson cleared his throat, glanced back at Marti to make sure her attention was elsewhere, then pulled the list from his wallet. He handed it to Beau, because he sat nearest. Beau skimmed Marti's long-winded apology. Then he turned it over and took his time reading. When he was done, he didn't look at Jackson, but firmed his mouth into a straight line and passed the note to Mondo who skipped the front and went straight to the list on back. His chuckles were low and dirty, but stopped when Gus elbowed him to pass it along.
Jackson turned in his chair and stared at Marti again, feeling his cheeks burn because his best friends now had a view into Marti's dirty little mind that he had loved keeping as his own private treasure. Jackson didn't like sharing Marti with them. And therein lay the big fat issue.
A cough sounded, drawing his attention back to his crew.
"She serious?" Gus asked, his gaze shooting to Marti like he was seeing her clearly for the first time.
"As a heart attack," he said dryly.
"It's not a long list," Mondo said, his voice tight---no doubt because he was trying not to laugh. "You plan this right, you could take care of every one of them over a long weekend."
Jackson nodded. "I asked for time off. Starting tomorrow."
"Wow." Mondo's lips pursed. His gaze narrowed. "And you're telling us because you need a little help?"
Jackson drew a deep breath. "I don't want it to be strangers. And I need this kept on the down-low."
Beau nodded. "Last thing you'd want is for the whole station house to get wind of it."
"Exactly."
"Craig and I have the strip tomorrow night," Mondo said, fighting a grin. "We could arrange something. Make sure you two aren't arrested."
Gus leaned forward. "I'm off tomorrow night."
Jackson gave him a hard-edged glare.
Gus shrugged, his lips curving slightly at the corners. "It's her list. Sooner we get 'er done..."
Jackson's neck tightened. "Get 'er done?"
Soft laughter erupted around the table.
Gus raised both hands. "One of us has to go first."
Jackson wiped a hand across his face. Shit. They were really going to do this. "All right. You're up tomorrow." He cringed at his word choice as the laughter grew.
Craig cleared his throat. "Saturday, I'll make sure my car's free. But I'm off after midnight."
"Let me know when you're in place, and I'll be there too," Gus said.
"Saturday's gonna be tricky," Beau said. "I'll call in sick. You'll have us all at your beck and call."
Saturday was gonna kill him.
Jackson tapped the list with is forefinger. "Sunday? Maybe if we count just after midnight..."
The men nodded their heads. They wore the same expressions they had when they'd all faced the last physical evaluation at the academy. Pumped. Excited. Determined.
Craig leaned forward in his seat. "Come Monday, bro, she won't have any excuses left."
Marti watched Jackson's table out of the corner of her eye. The way the men huddled around it, their voices pitched low, she knew something was up.
If things weren't so hinky between her and Jackson, she'd make up an excuse, take another round of beers to the table, but Jackson had been so quiet since he'd read her list that she didn't dare. Not without an invitation.
She wished she could take it back. Tell him it was just her fears getting the best of her. What they had was so good, she knew sooner or later she'd mess it up. And it looked like she already had.
He hadn't spoken a word about it. But she could see the suspicion in his eyes every time he looked at her, like he thought that maybe she didn't think he was enough. Lord, did he think she was a slut or a badge bunny? Not to be trusted because she had some pretty wild fantasies?
Craig leaned back in his chair. His head swiveled her way. She gave up pretending she wasn't watching them and met his gaze. He lifted one finger, then aimed it around the table. They needed refills.
Relief surged through her. She hoped the guys hadn't picked up on Jackson's vibes and would feel like they needed to shun her, but she was willing to take the risk. She missed their usual teasing and flirting.
She filled the tray with each of their preferred drinks, then twirled the tray up on one hand and strode with conviction toward their table. All the guys, save Jackson, watched her, but the way they studied her curves had her stomach dropping to her toes. Jackson had shared The List with them.
Disappointment stung her eyes. Heat flared in her cheeks. As she drew near she lowered the tray and dealt out paper coasters like a blackjack dealer, which she'd once been, then walked around the table to set a beer on each one.
"Can I get you boys anything else," she asked, cringing at the scratchy note in her voice.
Craig pulled her arm and brought her closer, then lifted a ten in the other and slid it into the front pocket of her jeans. He did it slowly, and his fingers lingered.
Her breath caught and her gaze shot to Jackson, who'd been watching her all along. Not a hint of what he thought was revealed. But his eyes smoldered.
Was it anger? Or was he turned on?
She could work with either. Lifting her chin, she gazed down her nose at Craig. "Thanks for the tip," she drawled, then turned and walked away with a sultry wiggle of her hips.
A chair scraped behind her, and one corner of her mouth curved. She jerked her chin at Jenna the waitress, their signal that she wasn't to be disturbed, dropped the tray on the counter and headed back to her office with a little more speed.
Before she could shut the door behind her, Jackson's body blocked it.
She didn't say a word. Simply walked backward, opening buttons down the front of her dark blue blouse and letting it slid off her arms, then reaching behind her to unsnap her bra. When she was nude from the waist up, she hopped up on the edge of her desk and opened her thighs.
No way could he miss the fact she wasn't wearing any panties.
"Did you forget somethin'?" he ground out.
Not responding, she leaned back on her elbows.
Jackson cursed under his breath but strode toward her. His hands clamped on her knees and shoved them wider apart, which caused her skirt to rise. His glance dropped to her bare pussy.
When he went to his knees, she let out the breath she'd been holding, only to gasp when his mouth closed around her hooded clit and drew hard.
He suckled, drawing blood to engorge it. The rounded knot hardened, the hood receded.
She lay back on the desk and draped her legs over his shoulders as he continued to torture that one vibrant little spot.
When fingers entered her vagina, she mewled. Moisture greeted them, slicking them as he slipped in and out. A finger, maybe his thumb, teased beneath her pussy, gliding toward her asshole. She stiffened, but he growled, letting her know she didn't have any say, that he'd take what he wanted.
She didn't mind it when he took charge. He'd never been harsh, never selfish. And even though they'd been wary around each other these past two days, she still trusted that about him.
A roughened pad teased the delicate opening then pushed against it.
Her breath caught. Her heels dug into his back. The tight ring resisted, burning as he continued to force his way inside.
"Breathe," he rasped.
She'd forgotten how, but pursed her lips and blew, trying to relax enough to let him inside. Something wet and warm dripped onto her perineum, then slid toward her asshole. It was just enough lubricant.
His tongue slicked once over her hardened clit. Cool air brushed it. Then the tip of his tongue flicked the rigid knot, feathering it with soft lashes as he drove his thumb and fingers into her body. The door wasn't locked. Anyone might twist the knob and look inside, but she didn't care.
They needed this. They'd made love every time they were alone, but it had been perfunctory, lasting only long enough for them both to reach their peaks, but ending far too quickly. The intensity had been lacking, and she'd missed it.
Something was different tonight. She felt it in the air. Something electric. Dangerous.
Not wanting to miss a single sensation to lingering doubts, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to his caresses.
Jackson filled her cunt with his fingers, giving her the girth she needed. Her muscles tightened around him. Her ass burned, but she found she liked it---loved the base, crude thought of his fingering her ass. Lord, someday she'd want to take his cock there. Why hadn't she put that on her list? She hadn't known there was pleasure in the act.
Again and again, he eased in and out, lashing her clit with his tongue until she made those sounds again, and her body began to convulse with pleasure. His mouth latched on to her distended clit and pulled, and that was all it took. She clutched her own breasts, squeezing the tips, and came---so hard she banged her head against the desk and beat his back with her heels as she writhed.
The moment stretched. The tense coil of pleasure in her belly unwound...slowly.
When he stood, she opened her eyes, meeting his bleak glance. Tears filled her eyes, blurring his frame. He turned away.
That was when she saw someone else standing behind him. She gasped and blinked.
It was Mondo, and he held up a white wash cloth. Over his shoulder he said, "Jackson, go wash your hands. I have things handled here."
She remained mute, flabbergasted that Jackson would allow it, but Jackson opened the door and left her with Mondo.
Marti began to close her legs, but he stepped between them and tapped her clit. "Keep 'em open." He washed her like a baby, rubbing the wet cloth over her swollen sex, then trailing downward.
Her cheeks burned, but he held her gaze the whole time, challenge in his dark eyes.
"You saw the list," she whispered.
"Jackson needs players."
His slight Hispanic accent was more pronounced, something she'd noticed happened when he was tense. "You must think I'm---"
"Scared. That's what I think. I'm not judging you. None of us are. Trust us to have both of your best interests at heart."
When he finished washing her, he stepped back and bent to retrieve her clothing.
She pushed off the desk, stood on wobbly legs and pushed down her skirt, although it was a little late for modesty.
"Jackson loves you," he said, gliding the bra up her arms and turning her to close the clasps. He didn't stop there. He reached over her shoulders and slid his hands into the cups to arrange her breasts, one at a time. "This will be our privilege," he whispered, then kissed her cheek.
His footsteps faded, and she was left alone, a hand pressed against her belly to still the excited flutters.
Flustered and sweating, she exited her office, needing to wash up in the restroom before returning to help Jenna the barmaid. They were short-staffed, and she owed Jenna big-time for covering for her. Managing a bar didn't mean she could sit back and let everyone else do the work. More often than not, she pitched in when things got busy.
She locked her office door, then turned, slamming into a wiry, lean figure. The guy, wearing a dark T-shirt and New Orleans Saints ball cap, didn't say a word, muscling past her and heading to the emergency exit at the end of the hallway. She got a glimpse of his profile, a large hooked nose and small receding chin. And pimples.
"Hey!" she called after him. "Are you even old enough to be in here?"
The man didn't turn around, just lifted a hand and shot her the finger, before pushing through the back door.
"Jerk," she muttered. But she couldn't remain annoyed. Not when her body felt so relaxed, so wonderfully loved. Jackson had taken her list to heart and enlisted the help of his best friends.
Good Lord, it was really going to happen.
So far, her first fantasy wasn't living up to her expectations.
Marti was tempted to take off the large, dark sunglasses which hid her features. Other than the lamplight illuminating the street corner, the shadowed alleys were pitch dark. Ominous. Every scrape and skitter made her jump in her four-inch heels.
Worse, the corset she'd donned bit into her ribs, making it hard to take a deep breath, so she panted. Jackson ought to like that. If he ever got there.
And where were the other guys?
Every one of them, even those on duty, had their marching orders, or so she'd been told. Jackson hadn't filled her in. Craig had---while she'd given him a fashion show of her sluttiest outfits before he'd headed to work.
He'd sat on the edge of her mattress while she retreated to the bathroom to change until she'd finally found clothing he approved. The "fuck-me" red heels---his words---had passed muster first. Then she'd strutted in short tight skirts, fishnet hose, bustiers, layering T-shirts that were nearly transparent because they were meant to be worn with a cami, but he'd been insistent. Told her no underwear. When she'd stood in front of him with tonight's outfit---the black bustier and ass-hugging leather miniskirt---he'd tugged down the upper edge of her top to see how accessible her boobs were, or so he said.
Because she faced a mirror, she could see her cheeks turn an unflattering tomato-red as he stared at and then fondled her breasts. "Does Jackson know you're doing this?" she'd gasped as he fingered a tight nipple.
His mouth curved into a sly grin. "He said we could do what we wanted short of penetration."
She'd sputtered. "What?"
"Marti-mine-for-the-moment, you may as well get comfortable with it. There's not much we won't see or touch." The hard glint in his eyes, a look she'd never seen in those mossy green orbs before, had made her shiver.
He gave one nipple a quick, gentle twist then pulled up the garment to cover her again. "We better head downstairs. Your carriage awaits."
Mondo's squad car had deposited her on this street corner after he'd given her strict instructions not to speak to anyone who might pass by, until she saw Jackson's car. However, her disgruntled promise not to deviate from the plan might be hard to keep. The two women who stood next to the curb ten feet away were eyeing her with malice.
One of them, a tall back girl with a zebra halter top and shiny black boots, fisted a hand on one hip. Her lips, glittering with a sparkly gloss, pushed into a belligerent pout. "Whatchoo doin' on our corner?"
Marti glanced away, trying to ignore the taller woman although a response was right on the tip of her tongue. Somehow, she knew that saying, "I'm waiting for my cop boyfriend to show up," wouldn't win her any brownie points. So she ignored her, turning her head to watch cars prowl down the dimly lit street.
A car, an older model red Plymouth with a loud muffler, pulled to the side of the curb beside the other two girls.
Marti watched, fascinated, as their expressions turned sultry, and they bent low to give the driver a peek at their deep cleavage.
"Lookin' for a good time?" the girl with the glittery lips said, her smile widening.
Marti eyed the woman's ass as she leaned lower. She didn't seem to care that her skirt rode up in the back to show a glimpse of the half-moons of her ass.
As close as they were, Marti couldn't hear the driver's muffled response, but Glitter Lips' mouth pouted. She straightened and banged her fist on the roof of the car as it rolled toward Marti.
Marti tried to take a step back, but one heel caught in the seam between the curb and the sidewalk. Now, she could leave her shoe behind or topple over into the street. She straightened and cleared her face of panic as the window slid down. She gave a quick glance up and down the street. No sight of her bodyguards. Had they abandoned her to teach her a lesson?
With her heart beating loudly in her ears, she bent to look into the car, peering over the top of her sunglasses, trying to figure out how to discourage this particular John. "I'm not available at the moment," she said breathlessly---bending in the corset cinched her diaphragm.
The driver's side was too dark to make out the man's features. "What? My money not good enough for you?"
The voice was husky but familiar, and she leaned further inside to squint at the driver, but the ball cap he wore kept his face obscured. All she saw was a huge frame and large shovel-like hands curved around the steering wheel.
Marti shivered. She wouldn't stand a chance if he decided he wouldn't take no for an answer. Where the hell was Jackson? She couldn't believe he'd left her swinging in the wind like this? Had his car broken down? Had he been in accident?
If he wasn't dead, she was gonna kill him. "Um, I'm sure your money's fine," she said, trying to keep her tone even, "but I have an appointment."
He snorted. "An appointment? What kinda ho are you?"
Marti's eyes bugged. "What the fuck kind of man are you? Does your wife know where you are?"
"You know 'er?" he asked, his voice getting smaller.
"No, but if I get your license plate, I can find her."
"You're a crazy bitch." His head canted. "Sure you don't wanna take a ride around the block?"
She straightened, pushing up her sunglasses, and turned her hips to angle her body away. The heel came free, and she stepped hastily away from the car.
The John's burly shadow leaned toward her. "You change your mind..."
Marti jutted her chin. "In your dreams."
As the Plymouth pulled away, another car drove up---a sleek black Camry with tinted windows.
"What the hell?" Glitter Lips flipped Marti the finger.
Marti straightened and crossed her arms over her chest, not lowering her gaze when the window glided silently down.
"How much?"
Her head swiveled. "What? Not even gonna try to be polite? No wonder you have to buy a girlfriend."
A choked chuckle sounded from inside, and she leaned toward the window, squinting over the tops of her shades. Jackson's profile in the darkness was distinctive.
She relaxed, tempted to beg him to get her out of there, but then he'd know her list had been a ploy to get him to retract the proposal. No, she'd see this to the bitter end. Then he'd know how completely unsuited they were for each other.
Marti mimicked the other women's posture and jutted out a hip, placing a hand on the exaggerated swell before giving him a sultry smile. "Wanna date?"
"I don't need no girlfriend."
"Betcha I could make you change your mind."
His head tilted. "I have some cash, but can I afford you?"
"Guess it depends on what you wanna do."
"Why don't you get into the car, sugar, and we'll negotiate."
Marti scoffed. "Negotiate? I think I better see what you're offering first."
He reached for his wallet in the cubby of the dashboard and flipped it open, slipping out two one hundred dollar bills.
She glanced up and down the street then pulled open the door and slid into the seat beside him.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"It's not as much fun as I thought it would be," she said, pushing her mouth into a pout.
His lips twitched. "Wait. It'll get better."
Marti turned to stare at him as he pulled away from the curb. Maybe he'd been teaching her a little lesson, but he wasn't doing it to say "I told you so." No, he was going to make sure she enjoyed the adventure.
"How'd I get so lucky?" she asked softly.
"Baby, I'm the one about to get lucky." He pulled into an alley, rolled down the windows to let a breeze inside then cut the engine. "Get into the back seat, pull up your skirt and kneel on all fours."
She guessed it said something about her morals that the coarse set of instructions made her ooze excitement.
Giving him a blinding smile, she eagerly complied as he opened his door and got out. When she was sideways on the narrow seat, her ass pointed toward the opened door, he stepped behind her and cupped her bottom.
She widened her stance as far as she could without her right knee slipping off the leather seat.
"Were you talkin' to that guy in the Plymouth?" he asked, rubbing her bottom. His voice sounded calm, maybe even a bit amused.
Already wet, she snuggled her butt against his broad palm. "My shoe got stuck. I couldn't move away. I had to say something to get rid of him. It wasn't my fault that insulting him turned him on."
A finger slid through her folds. "Did it excite you?" The texture of his tone turned a little growly, like it did when she took a little too long teasing him into arousal.
Marti moaned. "Baby, I'm already wet because of you."
"That's not quite true, is it?" This time there was a hint of a steel edge. "Did you like Craig tweaking your nipple? Did it get you hot when he felt you up?"
She grunted, wondering what was with the fifth degree interrogation and whether he was pissed enough to call a halt to their play. "He told you about that?"
"The guys are gonna tell me everything."
Well, he'd called her bluff. If he didn't like the results... Still, she didn't want to piss him off any more. Not when all her girly parts were exposed and her pussy plump for the plucking. She squeezed her inner muscles. Sex-juice seeped onto his finger. A nail scraped her clit, and then his hands cupped her buttocks, not moving.
"Yes," she gritted out. "I liked it. But it's not something I'd ever have let happen if you didn't approve."
His fingers dug into her cheeks. "Let's get back to the dirt bag in the Plymouth."
Fuck! She slumped on her arms. "I wasn't flirting with him. He didn't make me hot." The bite of his hard fingers was though. She tilted her ass higher and wagged her tail.
"Too bad," he murmured. "Gus'll be disappointed."
"That was Gus? He gave me the creeps."
"He's done some undercover prostitution stings. He knows how to play the part. Said your mouth would have earned you a fortune, he wanted to stuff it so bad."
Marti gave a dirty little laugh. "You guys talk like that?"
"We do this weekend," Jackson said, his tone wry. "You liked what he said, admit it." His finger dipped into her channel, and her muscles clamped around him. "You're fuckin' soaked, baby."
"Lord, Jackson," she pushed back, trying to take him deeper. "You sure it's safe here? No one will see?"
"It's just me here now." He tapped her clit. "But before I can take care of you, there's the little issue of your disobeyin' the rules."
Her pussy clenched again, the moist sound it made loud enough he had to have heard. "What rules?" she murmured.
"You were told not to talk to anyone."
"I didn't say a word to those women."
"Those women were doin' me a favor."
"You mean, they were acting like bitches on purpose?"
"They're workin' girls. If I happened to tell them that I knew someone who thought she wanted to give it a try, they were only too happy to change your mind."
Marti glanced over her shoulder. "Are you gonna punish me?"
Jackson's jaw tightened. "Before I fuck you, I have to make sure you'll be more careful the next time. I want you to remember the lesson."
Marti bit her lip. "Can I tell you something?"
He sighed. "Anything. You know that."
"I don't think I'd care if a hundred people walked by this alley right now, I want you that bad."
One corner of his firm mouth kicked up. "Mondo had you pegged."
"What'd Mondo say?"
"That you needed a firm hand applied to your pretty ass."
Moisture spilled from inside her in a gush. "Oh fuck. Right here? Now?"
"No better time." His hands smoothed over her butt again, and then lifted.
She faced away and bit her lip to still her cries, waiting in an agony of anticipation. He'd never spanked her before, not other than a light slap or two when they fucked, just to get her revved. This was different.
The first smack when it came was harder than she expected. "Ow!"
"What if that had been a stranger in the Plymouth?" he asked, his voice hard as Kevlar now. "You were right up at his door. Do you think you could have fought him off?"
Another smack on the opposite cheek was no less severe. "Ow!" she said more loudly. "That hurt."
His hand cupped her pussy. "Don't say you didn't like it."
Good lord, she had. His palm caressed her intimately---a chaser of gentleness after the fiery slaps.
"You're gonna learn to trust me, Marti. I don't say what I don't mean. I don't make promises I'll ever take back."
"I'm not really afraid you'll change your mind someday. You'd stick to the bitter end. It's not why I said no."
Fingers slid back inside her slick passage. "Then why? Tell me."
Her breasts grew heavy, the tips tightening into diamond-hard little points that scraped against the soft cotton lining of the bustier. "What if I get restless? It's happened before. My feet itch and I give everything away. Then suddenly I'm on a plane headed somewhere I've never been before."
"You're nesting in the apartment. Think I haven't noticed the little things you've moved in to make it pretty? I don't think you want to leave."
"Maybe I was trying to make it nice for you."
"You're makin' it yours. Besides, marrying me doesn't mean I'll ever hold you down. Your feet itch, we'll take a trip. Anywhere that strikes your fancy. You don't have to go it alone."
What he said sounded...nice. As independent as she'd been, there had been plenty of times she'd been caught off-guard by a sudden paralysis in a new place where she didn't speak the language, didn't understand the customs. How much better would it be if she had a companion?
The scrape of a zipper sounded, and she held her bottom still. The blunt head of his cock butted against her pussy, found her center and plunged inside.
She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he clutched the door frame. His free hand fit into the bend of her hip to keep her ass where he needed it to be, bracing her for the short, hard strokes he delivered.
"You're the prettiest whore I've ever seen," he whispered.
"We never set a price," she gasped, searching for a handhold and grabbing the metal rod beneath the head rest to hold firm against his sharpening thrusts.
A siren chirped. A bright beam of light flashed into the vehicle, blinding her. She froze on the seat.
Jackson on the other hand didn't stop moving behind her.
She reached back to shove him away, but he grabbed her wrist and held it, stroking deeper.
"Thought you had this all worked out?" she whispered furiously.
"I do." He released her hand, halted his motions and stepped away, his cock slipping slowly from inside her.
Marti flipped down her skirt and turned to sit on the backseat, biting her bottom lip, wondering what the hell was going on and how she'd manage to live through the embarrassment.
Beside her, the door opened. A flashlight blinded her. "Lady, you're under arrest."
It was Mondo, and from the grit in his voice, he was straining not to laugh.
"You guys think this is funny?"
Mondo leaned inside, grinning as his gaze took in her get up. "You mad because you're embarrassed or because you were almost there?"
"I'm gonna kill you," she ground out, heat spreading down her neck to the tops of her breasts.
"Shall we add threatening bodily harm to an officer of the law to the charges?"
In the rearview mirror, she watched a car slide into the alley, and she glanced over her shoulder to look out the rear window. "Is this a freaking convention?"
It was the red Plymouth. Gus stepped out, his ball cap still planted on his head.
Mondo backed away with a sigh. "I'm in uniform or you wouldn't be getting off so easy, chica."
Gus stepped past him and eased onto the seat, his torso twisting as he faced her.
"What's going on?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Gus gave her a crooked smile then picked her up by the waist and turned her to face him. Then his fingers tucked into the top of her bustier. He tugged it down, exposing her breasts.
Marti gulped, her eyes widened, but she held still. Jackson was right behind her. If this wasn't according to his wishes, he would have to be the one to put a halt to it. With her breasts hanging out in the humid air, quivers of lust rippled right through her pussy.
Gus's large hands slipped under her breasts to cup them. The pads of his fingers plucked the pebbled nipples. "We're improvisin'," he said, his tone cheerful. "Your list was a little sparse. Romeo here," he said, lifting his chin toward Jackson still standing in the door, "thought there ought to be some surprises. Tonight's a two-fer."
"Jesus," she whispered.
Gus grinned. "Get back up on your knees. You're gonna earn that two hundred bucks, sweetheart."
Jackson waited patiently to see whether she'd comply. They'd kept her off-balance, on the defense. Her relentlessly smartass remarks were proof of how unsure she was, how vulnerable.
His Marti was probably having second and third thoughts about going through with this but was too stubborn to cry uncle, and he wasn't ready to let her off. She'd named the terms in her dirty little list. He'd make damn sure he didn't leave her any wiggle room to say later that he hadn't fulfilled the conditions.
That didn't mean he was happy about what Gus's beefy mitts were feeling up. Or what they were about to "negotiate" for her to do.
However, he tamped down any jealousy and reservations. Remembered it was all about pushing her to her limits---and letting her know he'd be there however far it went.
In the meantime, he signaled for Mondo to turn off the spotlight. The cruiser pulled away, parking farther down the street to discourage any foot traffic.
"Me an' my buddy here wanna play a game," Gus said in his best redneck accent. Not a stretch, given he'd been raised in the sticks of Arkansas before arriving in Memphis for high school. "We'll make it worth your while, woman."
Jackson couldn't see exactly what Gus was doing, but he guessed he was playing with her breasts by the way her back shivered. Marti's nipples were extremely sensitive. He'd nearly gotten her off a time or two just sucking them.
Her shoulders rose and fell quickly with her short breaths. "Just what do you boys have in mind?" she asked, thickening her own accent to a delicious, sugary drawl.
Gus gave a grunting laugh. Without so much as a "by your leave," he leaned back in his seat, unbuckled his belt and his trousers, then wrestled to push them down to his thighs.
"Holy shit."
Marti's awed whisper had Jackson's jaw tightening so much he was surprised he didn't pop a muscle. Gus was huge. Not something he hadn't known, but fuck, he wasn't prepared for his girl to get a glimpse.
Sitting with his erection exposed, Gus gave himself a rub with his big, beefy hand. "All right, little lady. I'd like that smart mouth of yours to get to work."
Jackson bristled, cussing under his breath. Gus hadn't been kidding about wanting to stuff her sassy mouth.
Marti must have heard his curses, because her head half-turned his way. She lifted a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear. "I don't work without condoms," she said primly.
Gus's mouth quirked up on one side. He fished into his pants pocket and retrieved a foil packet. While he cloaked himself, Jackson knelt on the seat behind Marti and moved in close to her back. He'd make damn sure she didn't forget he was there too. He nuzzled into the corner of her neck. "Suck my buddy good, and I'll let you come," he whispered.
He heard her gulp. Her face turned farther. She rubbed her cheek against his. "You can stop this any time you want," she said just as softly.
"Just get that butt up in the air," he growled.
Marti gave a short, sharp laugh, but bent and slipped off her shoes. Then without looking his way again, she knelt on the seat.
He flipped up her skirt and ran his hands over the warm spots he'd left on her cheeks, a reminder that she'd better obey or he'd punish her again.
"I'm gonna roast in hell," she muttered, bending over Gus's lap. "Damn, I don't even know where to start."
"Don't choke yourself," Jackson muttered.
Gus for his part tried to keep his expression neutral, but as soon as her head lowered, his lips puckered and he blew noisily. "Som-bitch."
Jackson's smile was tight and mean, but he unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. He gave himself a stroke then centered the tip on her slick entrance. Her lips were drenched, swollen---hot against the crown of Jackson's cock. With one foot on the ground outside and leaning over her back, he plunged inside.
Marti gave a muffled shout.
"Holy fuck!" Gus's laid his head on the seat, closing his eyes.
A good thing because now Jackson could concentrate on giving Marti everything she needed without the dampener of being watched.
His strokes were steady, measured, drilling for her liquid lust. Clutching the back of the seats to his left and right, he flexed to drive deep again and again, his own arousal sharpening with every clench and convulsion of her inner walls.
Wet slurps and mewls arose from Gus's lap. Sounds Jackson had enjoyed often. He knew they vibrated up and down his friend's cock, and the memory of the sensation, coupled with the slippery heat he sank inside, had him growing harder, his cock expanding until the skin felt stretched and his balls were solid, painful stones.
Marti's head bobbed up and down. Gus's hand clamped on the back of her head and forced her deeper. She gurgled then drew a deep breath through her nose and waggled her head. A sure sign she'd loosened her jaws to take him deeper.
"Fucker," Jackson rasped.
"Lucky dude," Gus said, flashing a smile, his eyes opening and looking a little dazed. "Can I?"
"You're wearin' a condom. Go for it."
Marti huffed but continued to bob, her hands making moist sounds as they wrapped around Gus's shaft and stroked him.
Jackson scooted his knee closer and jerked harder against her, no longer worried about what he might sound like. Gus could tease him to the End of Days, and he didn't care. Grunting with exertion, he slammed hard into her pussy, moving her forward and back. Pleasure spiraled, tightening his thighs, his balls, hardening his dick until he was at the brink of exploding.
He reached around her waist and glided his hand toward her mound, slipped a fingertip into the top of her folds and toggled back and forth.
She gurgled again and made a muffled bleat.
His lips drew away from his teeth in a tight, fierce smile. "Do it now, baby. Come now!" He pinched her clit and slammed home one more time, and then swirled his hips because he could feel the slick pleasure surrounding him, the deep rhythmic ripples.
She sobbed and worked her way up and down Gus's shaft, her motions urgent, awkward, but it mustn't have mattered at that point, because Gus gave a loud groan and lifted his hips and her, driving upward into her mouth. Jackson held on, swirling, tunneling, then felt his balls erupt. Pleasure blinded him.
All their movements slowed. Breathing deepened, steadied. Jackson pulled Marti's hips snug against his and held her, keeping them pinned together by the waning strength of his erection.
Marti raked back her hair and pushed off Gus's lap, leaning back into Jackson's embrace as he glided his hands soothingly over her breasts and lower belly.
Gus cupped one side of her cheek, gave her one of his lop-sided grins, and then leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I think you earned both bills, baby."
She gave him a mock-slap against his shoulder and snuggled deeper against Jackson's chest. "Damn straight, I did."
Holding Gus's amused stare, Jackson bent toward her ear. "Check two off that list, baby."
\*
Jackson caught up with Craig the next day for lunch. "How's the canvassing goin'? Anyone see anything?"
"Nope. And forensics came up with nada as well. No prints. Video from both places caught the thief, but he was masked before entering. And last night, he hit again---that voodoo shop just around the corner from the tavern, right at closing. They're worried that he's escalating. This time he knocked the store clerk out after he tied her up."
Disgusted, Jackson shook his head. "I'll be sure Marti tells her staff to watch for any strangers who linger at closing time."
"Speaking of your girl..." Craig's grin stretched. "Heard Gus had a fine ole time."
Jackson growled deep in his throat. "The point is that Marti had a good time."
"Bet she did," Craig said, chuckling. "Gus is...impressive."
Jackson planted his fists on his hips and glared.
His friend held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, man, just yankin' your chain. You know, we're all invested in this thing now. Gonna have room in the wedding party for four best men?"
A rueful smile tugged at Jackson's mouth. "I think we'll elope. I don't want any help with the honeymoon. That is, if she ever says yes. You do know that list was a crock."
Craig nodded; his expression turned serious. "Think she was hopin' you'd balk?"
Jackson sighed. "Yeah. If I caved, we could keep things like they are. She's happy with that."
"But it's not enough for you."
"No, I want kids with her, Craig. I want the white picket fence and to wake up with her blue hair in my face every morning. I want her under me every night."
"And sharing her with us? What's that buyin' you?"
"I'm showing her I won't tie her down. That she's still free to be herself."
"Seems extreme. Sure you won't be bothered by the fact we've been all over her by the time this is done?"
"That's my problem to deal with. And it's why it's you guys. I'd trust you all with my back. I sure as hell will trust you with my girl."
Craig nodded then rose. "Time to get back to my beat. See you later, bro."
"Make sure that back seat smells fresh."
It was a short walk to the bar. He ducked inside, inhaling the scent of lemon oil and cleansers. He nodded to Grady, an ex-cop, who was polishing the bar. "She in back?"
"Just be sure to lock the door behind you, hot shot."
Jackson grinned and gave him a two-fingered salute before heading toward the office. He opened the door quietly then locked it behind him. Not that he planned on doing a thing, but he never knew what would happen when the two of them were alone. They were a volatile mix. Like kerosene and an open flame.
Marti was at her desk, her eyebrows drawn into a fierce frown as her fingers clicked on her computer keyboard.
He cleared his throat. "Hey, sweetheart."
Her gaze darted up. A blush colored her cheeks a pale rose. "Hi there, yourself. What are you doing here? I thought you'd be busy planning the next installment of Bang My Girlfriend."
Her voice crackled with irritation, but he didn't put any pass on it. He'd gotten to her last night, and now she thought she had to shore up her defenses again. "I ate lunch with Craig. He had some news about the robberies."
Marti's cheeks billowed around a deep exhale. "That's all anyone's talking about."
"You takin' extra precautions?"
One brow arched. "Do you really think he'd have the balls to rob a cop bar?"
"Just be careful. Make sure you always have someone around. And you might consider lockin' this door when you're in here by yourself. If he's local, he might know the safe's here."
She nodded slowly then narrowed her gaze. "Is that the only reason you came by?"
"I was hopin' for a kiss. I know you're busy, and you might be a little sore..."
Her hand shot up. "Not going there. It's hard enough to look you in the eye without you bringing up what happened."
"What happened?" he asked, grinning because she was blushing brighter pink.
"So long as that's how we keep it," she muttered.
"The guys won't tease you."
Her gaze fell away.
"You disappointed they won't?"
"No, it's just...I don't see how you can be all right about this. I had another man's cock in my---"
"Never happened," he clipped.
Her glance rose, locking on his face. "Sure it's healthy to deny it?"
"Which way do you want it? In the open or best forgotten? You can't have it both ways, babe."
Marti sighed. "Forgotten. For now."
He sauntered closer, his hands itching to touch her. Just the mention of Gus and what had happened in the back seat of that borrowed sedan made him feel primal. He needed to leave his imprint on her mouth, her butt---fuck, who was he kidding? He needed to stake her with his cock and remind her who owned her sweet little cunt. "Come out from around that desk."
A faint smirk curved her mouth. "Thought you were worried I was sore."
"I'm not here to fuck you." Liar. "I want a kiss."
Marti stepped around the desk with wary eyes. He let her approach, didn't open his arms until she was within reach, but then picked up one of her hands and dragged her closer. With his free hand, he framed her face, thumb under her stubborn jaw, his fingers touching her cheek. Her skin was soft, her mouth still swollen from the previous night's abuse. The pink tip of her tongue swept across her lower lip.
Standing this close, he knew she felt vulnerable. Her blue eyes were wide, staring into his.
"You know I love you," he said softly.
"That was never the issue."
"I'd like to understand."
"I don't understand me. How can I explain it to you?"
Jackson let the subject drop and bent to press his lips against hers. They were soft and giving, molding to his. Her eyelids fluttered down, but he watched her. Noted the renewed flush of warm color that crept across her cheek and nose, the way her nostrils flared.
He tugged her hand and brought her flush with his body until his cock rested against her belly. Heat thickened it, and he gently pulsed against her, telling her how much a simple kiss could entice him.
He broke the kiss and scooped up her ass, giving her a squeeze.
Marti gasped, then laughed, snuggling her face against his chest. "Easy, tiger. You left marks there."
"How does it feel?" he asked, resting his chin on the top of her bent head.
"It aches. But it's impossible not to think of how they got there every time I shift on my chair."
"So it's not all bad."
"No. I liked it."
Her whispered admission set a pulse throbbing in his dick. "Think you might like me using a flogger or a paddle sometime?"
She chuckled. Her fingers clenched the soft fabric of his T-shirt. "A flogger. But something soft-ish."
"Soft-ish?" he asked, a grin stretching his mouth. "I'll see what I can do."
She groaned again and snuggled deeper against him. "I wish I could leave now."
"What would you want to do?" he asked, swaying on his feet, rocking her against his hard-on.
"Go home with you. Climb right over you."
"Would we be naked?"
"Duh."
He nuzzled her ear. "What would you do with me? Tell me. The nastier the better, sweetheart."
A delicate shiver rustled against him. "Um, I'd slide right down that pole you're sticking me with."
Jackson groaned. "The words, baby."
Her head turned; her teeth tugged his earlobe. "I'd slide my pussy down your cock, then bounce up and down until I got hot."
His hands kneaded her ass. "Sounds sweaty."
Marti rubbed her cheek on his chest like a kitten. "Might have to start slow 'cause I am a little sore inside."
"I'll make sure to buy some lube for tonight."
A husky laugh gusted. "None of that warming stuff. I'd burn right up."
He chuckled against her hair. "I have to go."
"Really?" Her hand slid down one side of his body, then crept between them. Her palm cupped his erection. "You locked the door."
"You saw that?"
"I was watching you out of the corner of my eye."
She squeezed and he groaned. He really, really liked her little show of aggression. "We should wait for tonight."
She raised her head and leaned back inside his embrace, challenge sparkling in her eyes. "I thought you might drop by. I'm not wearing panties."
His eyelids dipped. "And if you'd had to pick up something off the floor in front of Grady?"
Her lips curved. "He'd tell you all about it, I'm sure. He's old-fashioned. Thinks a man has to be in charge. That girls need mindin'."
"What do you think he'd recommend I do?"
Her lips pursed into a kissable pout. "Maybe a little more of what you did last night."
Her tongue touched her upper lip, reminding him again of the blowjob she'd given Gus---and that was all it took. His arousal spiked, hot and urgent. He tugged up her skirt in the back and clasped her bare bottom. "If I'd known I coulda been touchin' this..."
She dropped her gaze between them and reached for his belt.
"I don't want to spoil tonight," he said, although his tone was silky. No way would she take his caution seriously.
Marti flicked back the tongue of his belt with a flourish. "Since you've been taking license with my dirty list, I can't be blamed for not knowing exactly what I'm supposed to save myself for."
She unbuckled him then opened his pants, reaching inside to carefully pull his cock upright in the opening. She stuck a finger in her mouth and wet the head of his penis. "I like your cock best, Jackson Teague. I like the way it tastes and smells, but I especially like how well it fills me up."
At her sultry-voiced admission, he tossed in the towel. He'd locked the door, knowing he wouldn't keep his hands off her or his dick from sliding up inside her wet hot heat.
He shoved his jeans past his hips then held out his arms, waiting for her to grip his shoulders before he lifted her by her butt.
She reached between them and centered him, then worked her way down his length with sexy little back and forth wiggles while he gritted his teeth.
When he was finally root-deep, he walked to the door and pressed her back against it. "We're gonna get loud," he rasped.
"Grady'll turn on the jukebox. Don't you worry."
With a sigh, he took her lips and pounded blissfully away.
Marti gripped the top of the vinyl seat and bounced on Jackson's cock, working up a fine sweat. She kept her gaze on the back window to make sure no one approached.
Once again, her dream fuck fell short. Not that Jackson wasn't putting everything into it. His foreplay while he'd kept her hands in cuffs behind her had been thorough. She'd come once already while he'd fingered her and sucked on her breasts.
However, it was hard to forget she was the only one buck naked, or that Craig and Beau were both acting as lookouts and likely getting an eyeful. They might be in a dark parking lot, but the lights from the dash and the squad car's computer had to be illuminating her ass. "It was nice of Craig to leave the AC on."
Jackson grunted then gripped her hips harder, forcing her movements to slow and deepen. "You haven't shut up since we got into the back seat. Fucking in a cop car not living up to your expectations, baby?"
He rolled his hips, forcing his cock deeper. Her pussy tightened greedily around him.
Lord, they'd done it so much lately, she felt as though his cock was a permanent fixture, that her pussy wouldn't feel complete without it plugging her vagina.
Marti let go of the seat, dug her fingers into his dark hair and rubbed her aching nipples against him for relief. "Swear, it's not you. It smells like Pine-Sol and pina coladas in here."
"Better than sweat and puke," he muttered. His arms surrounded her, hugging her closer until they grew still in each other's arms.
Pressing her forehead to his, she sighed. "Sorry. Guess I'm just a little off. And I can't help feeling bad. If anyone saw us, Craig'd be in deep shit."
"Yeah he would. So maybe we should hurry it up a bit?"
"Maybe we should just go back to our place."
Jackson gave one of his sexy man-grunts. "It's not midnight yet."
Her lips curved. "Nothing's turning into a pumpkin here. And just think, I'll give it to you any way you want."
Jackson smiled back. "Really? Will you bend over and grab your ankles while I fuck you?"
She wrinkled her nose. "You'd like that?"
"Maybe not. How about I do you on the balcony?"
"We've already done that. Ms. Dickerson enjoyed the show so much she asked when we'd be busy again. I think she wants to put us on YouTube."
Jackson chuckled. "Can't have that. Don't want the entire world to hear your bleats. They're mine."
Marti scrunched her nose, then let her glance fall. "I'd let you fuck my ass," she said softly.
Jackson tipped up her chin to meet his narrowed gaze. "Really? That wasn't on your list."
"Doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. The way you touched it before got me thinking it might not be so bad."
Jackson gripped her ass and rocked her forward and back on his cock. "Sure you don't want to finish it here?"
"This is nice, but really, the smell is a bit overwhelming." She exaggerated. By his arched brow, he knew it too.
Still, he gave her one last hug then helped her off his lap.
Marti slid onto the seat beside him and reached for her clothes, dressing, but not looking his way. The thing she hadn't been able to admit aloud was that she felt ashamed of herself. Not for what they'd just been doing or even for what they'd done last night, but because she'd written The List in the first place.
Was she forcing him to jump through hoops because she needed reassurance of how much he loved her?
For his part, she knew what he was up to.
Jackson being Jackson, he'd taken her at her word and decided that if this was what it took for her to say yes, he'd blast through every last dirty little fantasy she'd described.
If she were a stronger woman, she'd tell him The List was a bluff. Even if he did go through with every scenario, she couldn't say yes. And lord, acting like a whore, blowing another man while he watched and doing it in a squad car were tame in comparison to the last couple of items on her list.
Jackson finished putting his clothes to rights. She pushed her skirt down and balled her undies in her hand. "Jackson..."
"Uh uh. No apologies." He drew her across his lap and tucked her head against the corner of his neck.
"It still counted," she said, snuggling into his warmth.
His cheek rubbed against her hair. "Even if we didn't finish?"
"It was the thought."
"I love you, Marti."
Tears filled her eyes, and she hooked an arm around his neck to hug him. The more he said it, the more she believed he really did. "I love you too."
"Got any plans for Sunday?"
"I have inventory with Grady in the morning, but after that I'm free, I guess. Why?"
"My mom's having a barbeque..."
She wiped her eyes with her hand then leaned back to look into his face. "You want me to meet your family?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Sure that's smart?"
Jackson gave her a quick smacking kiss. "They are going to love you. You don't have a thing to worry about. Just be yourself."
"Why now?"
"You know why."
She glanced away. "It's getting late."
He reached beside him and tapped the window.
Craig walked out of the shadows and opened the door. She slid off Jackson's lap, standing with help from Craig, who gripped her elbow.
"That was quick. You two okay?" he asked, glancing from her face to Jackson's.
Jackson shook his head as though warning him to drop the line of conversation. "We're headin' home."
"Take your time," Craig said slowly, his gaze locking with Jackson's.
She thought it an odd thing to say given that their apartment was only four blocks away.
Jackson took her hand and pulled her behind him as he started to move away. "We're gonna walk back."
"Your car?" Craig called after them.
Without turning, Jackson waved his free hand. "Will be fine until morning. We could use some fresh air."
The reminder of the overpowering scents in the car made her smile. She wrinkled her nose. "Good idea."
Jackson brought her close to his side.
Marti leaned against him as they walked away from the parking lot and onto the sidewalk beside the street.
A carriage, lit by colorful strings of Christmas lights, drew alongside them. "Can I interest you in a ride? Last one for the night..." the driver said, smiling amiably. He was dressed in German lederhosen, which exposed a pair of knobby knees. His long white hair was pulled back into a pony tail. His eyes, even in the dim light, sparkled.
She thought he'd make a perfect Santa Claus and wondered if he put reindeer ears on his horse in winter.
Jackson glanced down. "What do you say, baby? Tonight doesn't have to be a complete bust."
"I don't know. I was looking forward to a warm bath."
"Come on," he said, pulling her toward the curb. "I promise I'll scrub your back later."
He seemed so eager she thought maybe he was the one excited by the idea. Maybe he was too manly to admit a carriage ride in a "princess" carriage was enticing. "You know, as long as I've lived here, I've never taken a ride in one of these."
Jackson grinned and fished in his pocket for a couple twenties, handing them to the driver. "Take us by the river?"
"Scrape the dirt off your shoes before you step up," the driver said, his voice brisk now.
With few cars still on the street, the ride was quiet except for the steady plod of the horse's hooves.
Marti sighed and snuggled close. "This is nice." She yawned.
"Don't you dare go to sleep on me," he growled.
"Got plans?"
"You know I do."
She glanced at the driver's back, then whispered. "Plans that require...complicated choreography?"
Jackson laughed, lifted her hand and placed it squarely on his crotch. "Maybe."
"None of that now," the driver groused. "This here's a fam'ly-orientated buggy ride."
Her eyes widened. His back was still turned. How'd he know she was feeling her man up?
Jackson pressed her hand harder against himself, molding her fingers around the impressive bulge beneath his fly.
But she slipped her hand away, jerking her chin toward the driver. "Behave yourself," she whispered.
"Fine." However, he picked up her hand again and kept it inside his.
They settled back against the padded seat.
"You don't have to finish it, you know. That list---"
Jackson's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Was a crock, right?"
"Right," she thoughtfully, eyeing his expression because it was growing more devilish by the moment. "How'd you know?"
"You're adventurous, but the things you wrote... Well, they weren't you."
Unable to hold his steady stare, she glanced away, noting they'd turned onto Jefferson, heading toward the road that flanked the Mississippi. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too far."
Jackson squeezed her hand. "I'm not," he said quietly. "We got to play a bit. And maybe you got to see I'm not such a stick in the mud."
"I never thought that. In fact, you're so far from dull... Jackson?"
"Baby, just snuggle up. We don't have to talk. We can have the driver drop us near our place when we're done."
"You're not still mad at me, are you?"
"Not even a little bit. I've enjoyed givin' you your little fantasies too."
Marti didn't know what she felt. Relieved the lie was over? Or disappointed because some of the things on that list had come from a part of her she hadn't known existed and she still might like to give them a try?
Still, he wasn't angry and didn't seem disappointed in her. But he hadn't asked her that question again either. Had he changed his mind?
Jackson tucked a finger under her chin and turned her face toward him. "You okay?"
When had she become such a crybaby? Marti blinked, hoping the darkness hid the wetness welling in her eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired."
"Then it's a damn good thing I didn't make you walk. You're gonna need everything you have left."
Marti gave him a crooked smile. "Am I ever too tired for that?"
"No funny stuff back there," the driver muttered.
Jackson laughed and settled back in his seat, wrapping his arm around Marti's shoulders. She laid her head on his arm and watched as they turned onto Riverside Drive and clomped toward the park nestled at the edge of the Mississippi. Streetlamps stretched down the drive, and if she blurred her eyes, they looked like shiny crystals strung together. Sitting beside Jackson, enjoying the silence and the feel of the solid body beside her, she began to dream of what a lifetime of such silences might be like.
For once, the thought didn't leave her feeling like an indigestible meal sat at the bottom of her stomach. Her body relaxed, her chest filled with an aching warmth. Jackson would be a good husband and father. What more could she ask for? He'd already proven he could put up with her crazy shit.
"My dad used to take us on carriage rides," Jackson said. "Not often, 'cause we only had his cop's salary, but he knew folks---some of the drivers---and they'd cut him a break. I acted like I didn't appreciate it. My sister was all about bein' a princess, and me and my brothers would make fun of her until dad would give us the look."
"The look?"
Jackson smiled with faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah, I never quite knew what it meant, I just knew it scared the shit out of me. Then we'd behave and let sis enjoy it."
"Think he knew you liked it too?"
"Yeah, he'd wink after a while. He knew we were boys. We had to make some noise about it first. I mean, ridin' in a princess carriage with glittery lights?"
His grunt made her smile and think about a young Jackson entranced by the ride, but hiding it behind a boyish gruffness.
He kissed her forehead. "What about you? You rarely talk about your childhood."
"I was an Army brat. We moved a lot. Not much to tell."
"You keep any friends?"
"Nah. We'd always lose touch. You learned to make new friends everywhere you go. That's easier."
"That's no way to bring up a kid."
Marti shrugged. "It wasn't a bad life. I got to see things. Travel."
"But you never learned how to stay put. You never got to sink deep roots. Didn't you ever miss that?"
"Sure. I'd think about it whenever dad got new orders, but then we'd get busy, throwing out things, skinnying down the household. When mom was alive, she'd make it feel like this great big adventure. Like the journey to dad's next duty station was a long safari."
"And when she passed?"
Marti sighed. "Then it was just Dad and me. And I was in charge of organizing things."
"Do you miss him?"
"Sure, but he's got his buddies. They play golf, go fishing. He's got a full life."
"Did he cut you adrift?"
"It wasn't like that. I went to college. After that I took a job teaching English in China."
"He let you go, just like that?"
Again, she shrugged, trying to pretend she really didn't mind that her father had let her go so easily. "Why wouldn't he?"
Jackson pulled her closer. A kiss landed on her cheek. "I wouldn't let my little girl go without a layin' a lot of guilt on her, big-time. And she'd be seein' me holidays, birthdays. I'd wear her down until she came back. I'd never let her doubt how much I love her."
Marti glanced up. "How'd you know?"
"That he doesn't tell you he loves you?"
She cleared her throat. "Yeah."
"Because he never taught you how to love, baby."
Marti glanced away, stricken. "How can you say that? What is it we've been doing?"
"A lot of fuckin'."
"Didn't need to hear that. La-la-la-la," the carriage driver chimed in.
Marti wrinkled her nose at the driver's back. "See why this won't work?" she whispered harshly.
"I'm a good teacher, Marti. I learned from the best."
"Your mom?"
"Yes."
"My mom was loving too," Marti said, her voice tight. "She was the glue that held our family together.
"But you felt abandoned when she died."
"Dad was there."
"But he was busy. And likely grief stricken. He didn't know what to do with a little girl. Didn't understand how to make you feel secure."
Marti's gaze locked with his. There was no judgment, no pity in his expression. Just that quietly intense stare of his. He was there for her. All she had to do was ask for his support, his loving.
"How'd you get so smart?" she asked gruffly.
"I'm not. I've just had a lot of time to think about us. About what's wrong with us. I'm gonna finish your education. Show you what lovin's all about."
She gave him a sideways glance. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Does this lesson have anything to do with why we've taken the slow route home?"
"Maybe."
"Do you have another surprise for me waiting there?"
"The boys have been workin' on it as we speak."
Marti shook her head, excitement giving her butterflies in her belly. "The List again?" At his nod, she shrugged, trying to pretend a little nonchalance. "But I just told you it's bogus."
Jackson bent toward her ear. "It may have started as a way for you to erect a barrier between us, but I think it serves another purpose now. Mine. I'm gonna show you how much I love you. How willin' I am to walk through fire for you, baby."
The low growling texture of his voice made her wet. She squirmed on the seat beside him, then gave him a glance from under the fringe of her eyelashes. "Has it been that bad?" she cooed.
His expression tightened. "Like havin' toothpicks crammed under my fingernails."
Marti sighed. "I'm sorry I ever started this. I don't want to cause you any pain."
"Don't. You don't have a thing to apologize for, and if you haven't figured it out, my buddies are part of my extended family. We love and trust one another. This game we're playin' is makin' you a part of us. You've got family now, Marti."
She blinked her eyes. "It's a damn incestuous family you have, Jackson Teague."
He gave her a crooked smile. "We're southern boys, what'd you expect? And baby, you don't know the half of it. Just you wait."
Jackson twisted the key in the lock. Inside the apartment, the lights were dim in the foyer, but a golden glow emanated from around the corner. He reached back and wrapped an arm around Marti's waist and pulled her inside.
She dug in her heels. "My list wasn't all that detailed..."
"Worried?" He kept his voice calm and cheerful, knowing it riled her.
"Scared to death."
And she probably was given the scowl on her face. He closed the door, but also kept hold of her hand in case she tried to flee. She tugged, but stomped a couple feet farther into the apartment.
"All it said was 'A Ménage'," she whispered. "That could mean a lot of things. Could even mean that we watch one, but never actually do it."
"We already did one," he said amiably.
Her cheeks flushed. "The little blow thing?"
"Blow thing? It was a blowjob. Deep throat. Tail wagging and you bleatin' like a lamb."
Her scowl deepened. "No need to get nasty."
He grinned. "I'm not. But I do want you out of those clothes."
"Now?"
"Yeah. When you walk in there, you need to be naked."
Marti glared, shaking her head. "You're not gonna leave me an inch of pride."
"What's pride got to do with it? This is about pleasure, sweet pea---so much cup runnin' over pleasure that you'll be too weak to say no to me ever again."
Her jaw dropped.
"Don't get ahead of yourself." Letting go of her hand, he tipped it closed with a finger under her chin.
"Man, you don't do things by halves, do you?"
"You're the one who threw down the glove."
"I was protecting you."
"Do I look like I need it?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Strip."
"What about you?"
"This is about you. Now we can do this the easy way..."
Marti didn't need the "or" spelled out. If she didn't do exactly as he said, he'd do it for her, and she'd have a new set of marks on her ass. "Where's the incentive?" she grumbled.
"Baby, do you really want me to bend you over and spank you in front of them? Would you rather have one of them do it?"
She guessed she mulled that one over so long he thought she was seriously contemplating the suggestion, because he made a noise and stepped toward her, his hands dragging up her blouse and throwing it into a corner. Then busy fingers unsnapped, unbuttoned and tossed until she stood nude in front of him.
He gripped her shoulders, turned her toward the corner then gave her bottom a swat. "Get on in there. You're keepin' everybody waitin'."
Embarrassment burned her face and breasts, but she kept her hands dangling by her sides and strode into the living room.
They'd performed a transformation.
The sofa and loveseat were pushed out of the way against one wall. Tables lined the opposite side of the room. Easily a dozen white candles blazed on every surface. In the center of their beige shag carpet was the red jacquard chaise from the bedroom, draped in fluffy pillows. She could only imagine what they had in mind.
As for the men, they stood shirtless, in blue jeans, a host of broad chests, naked skin gleaming with oil. Grins stretched across their faces as they all inspected her, head-to-toe. Thank God for the wax job she'd had at the salon a week ago.
Beau cleared his throat and broke rank, striding toward her and holding out his hand, palm up. Marti drew a deep breath, unsure and beginning to quiver.
Beau was the one who made her the most nervous, because he rarely gave away a thing he thought. Not by expression or word. The tribal tat encircling his upper arm only added to his aura of danger.
His hand wrapped around hers. Then squeezed. He bent toward her, until he mouth grazed her cheek. "Don't be afraid."
"I'm not. Not really. This is just...not something I ever really thought I'd want."
"But you do now?"
Her gaze locked with his. She nodded. "Is he going to hate me?" she whispered.
One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll let you in on something. Something Mondo figured out."
"What's that?"
"Jackson liked your list." He waggled his eyebrows. "Play hard. Make him sweat." He straightened away, then held his hand aloft, as though escorting a princess toward a staircase---only he led her to the chaise.
By gesture, he placed her on the seat, her back supported by cushions.
As soon as she leaned back and drew a deep breath, three of Jackson's friends moved in, kneeling around her. Beau, kneeling at the end, grasped her ankles and pulled apart her legs. Craig grabbed a long cylindrical pillow from under the lounger and placed it beneath one of her knees. Gus did the same with the other.
With her legs spread and her knees raised, every one of them had a view of her pussy. Her wet and swollen pussy.
Mondo, standing behind Beau, snapped his fingers. The men around her rose and began to strip away their clothing.
"Long as y'all don't start dancing," Marti gibed.
Mondo's dark brow arched.
"Well, you look prettier than Chippendales, and you're all getting naked."
"You nervous?"
She lifted her chin. "'Course not."
"Then you must be bored." His jaw firmed. "Play with those pretty tits while we get comfortable."
"Tits?" she asked, her voice rising.
Mondo sauntered toward her, and Marti wanted more than anything to close her legs and pull them toward her chest to hide, because the heat smoldering in his dark eyes just about burned her up.
He placed a knee on the end of the lounge and gripped the cushion on either side of her hips, bending over her. His mouth hovered just above hers. "Tits. Ass. Cunt. Get used to the words. I'll be using them."
"Who put you in charge?"
"Your boyfriend. He knows a thing or two about me."
"Like?"
"Like you really shouldn't challenge me."
Her mouth opened, but she bit back her words. The stillness of his body, the way his gaze bored into hers, made her want to be good. "Lord, are you a Dom? Do you play in those kinky sex clubs?"
He didn't answer, but his mouth slid into a slow smile. "Now, play with those tits."
He bent, kissed her forehead, then backed away. Her gaze stayed locked with his, fascinated as he drew off his jeans. Already, her senses were on overload. So many tanned chests. But his caramel-colored skin was cloaked in silky black hair, nipple to nipple with a well-defined, straight trail that led directly to his cock. His balls were hairless. Had he shaved?
She almost thanked him, because she had the overpowering urge to beg him to let her blow his cock. His sex wouldn't give her quite the jaw ache that Gus's had, but he was long and thick. The head tapered like an arrow.
"Tits," he repeated.
Her gaze shot back up to his face, and she flushed. Still, her hands went automatically to her breasts and she plumped them up, feathering her thumbs across the tips while her pussy grew wetter by the second.
Marti forced herself to glance around at the others, all nude, all standing with their man-parts jutting proudly over taut abdomens.
Beau drew her gaze again. His light brown chest was nearly hairless with a sparse smattering of hair at the center. His nipples were dark, his cock a deep ruddy purple. The shaft was heavily veined, the tracery of vessels raised like ridges. Lord how she'd love to feel its scrape as it crammed up inside her. The blunt, round head was every bit as big as the circumference of his cock.
Gus was a bull of a man. Well hung. His appendage was slightly curved upward, a heavy cudgel of a dick. But she already knew that. His chest was also impressive, his arms and thighs even more so. Some lucky woman, someday, would feel safe from any storm wrapped inside his embrace.
Craig was beautifully proportioned. Tall, long-limbed, gilded by blond hair on his chest that turned a darker brown as it trailed toward his groin. His long-fingered grip made a slow pass up and down his shaft while she watched.
Her breath caught at the pearl of pre-cum he worked into the eyelet opening.
Marti licked her lips, and he wiped off the drop with his thumb and came to her. She opened her mouth, not thinking really what she looked like, but when his thumb entered she eagerly closed her lips around it and sucked off the smear of ejaculate, then gave him another pull, loving the way his green eyes darkened as he watched.
Unconsciously, her thumbs and fingers plucked her nipples harder.
A strange sound, like the whirring of wheels came from behind her. She didn't dare rise up to peer over the top of the lounge. Mondo still held her in place with his implacable face.
But slowly, Jackson, still dressed, rolled a large wooden cross into view. She wasn't completely clueless about dungeon furnishings. The St. Andrew's cross was formed with well oiled and smoothed wood. Black Velcro cuffs hung from short chains on the upper arms of the cross. Metal lips to stand on with Velcro closings to hold ankles secure were at the bottom.
Marti swallowed hard. "The neighbors must have loved seeing that roll through the door."
"We brought it in a piece at a time and constructed it here. No one who isn't in the scene will guess," Mondo said in an uninflected voice. "Come to me."
She sought Jackson's gaze. He gave her slow wink, and although she detected tension in his jaw, she knew he was all right with this. So she swung her legs to the ground and pushed upward, walking with a sedate glide to her steps, even though inside her heart was beating fast as a humming bird's wings.
Mondo's hands were sure, his demeanor businesslike as he helped her into the footholds and strapped her ankles and hands to the cross. "The parts are moveable," he said. "We can tilt you backward, splay your legs wider. We have control."
She nodded her understanding. "This something you've all done before?" She didn't look at Jackson, although his answer was the only one that mattered.
"We've all played," Jackson said from somewhere behind her. "But I haven't since I met you. There was no need. It's not really my thing."
She relaxed a little, hearing that. Tonight was an anomaly in their relationship. Playtime. "I'm glad. I like what we have, Jackson."
"Afraid you'll be marrying a freak?" Mondo said, his mouth curving in a hard smile.
"No, I just like what Jackson and I have."
"It's enough."
She shook her head. "That makes it sound mundane. It's not."
He turned toward Jackson. "Sounds like your lady's well-satisfied." Again, his steady glance fell on her. "So why the list, hon?"
"Jackson and I have already been over this."
"Not good enough. He roped us into this. We're part of it now. We have a right to know why you're putting our friend through the ringer."
Marti bristled. She wasn't very good at obeying. Especially not when a man was being an overbearing jerk. "Did you tie me to this thing to interrogate me or to fuck me?"
"Patience, little girl. We'll get there." He cupped his fingers and curled them twice. A signal to Gus. "She needs reassurance we intend to use her."
Gus grinned and sauntered away, his hard ass flexing with every step.
She couldn't help it---she had to look.
Mondo cleared his throat. "Am I boring you?"
She turned back, and gave him a baleful glance. Mondo was worse than a pit bull with a toy. He wasn't going to stop until her had her all chewed up. "No, but what did you want to know?"
"Why the list?"
"I didn't think he'd go through with it. Not in a million years. I wrote it because I was...angry. Scared. He asked me something---"
"He wants to marry you. Is Jackson really that scary?"
Her gaze fell away. "I wasn't ready for the question."
"You'd never discussed the subject before?"
"In a roundabout way. He knew I wasn't ready."
"Do you think he'll hurt you? Cheat on you."
She shook her head. "Never."
"Are you afraid you will?"
"No. Despite what's happening now, I don't really want anyone but Jackson."
Mondo nodded. "Next time he asks, don't give him a kneejerk answer."
Marti swallowed and replied meekly. "Okay."
Gus returned with something cupped inside his hand. Mondo stood aside, and Gus knelt between her feet. She craned to look down. His gaze mocked her as he bent toward her pussy and slid his tongue between her folds and fluttered it, tickling her clit, then leaning back. "I owe you," he murmured. "Best blowjob ever." His thick fingers parted her, tugging open her outer lips.
Marti groaned, enraptured as he pressed his nose, chin and mouth between her legs and rolled his face in her wetness. His eyes closed. He tunneled his tongue into her, swirled his lips, suckled her folds...slowly driving her crazy with the changeups. It was frustrating, because every time the tension built, he changed his tactic. The twinkle in his eyes said he knew exactly what he was about.
She was so aroused, she barely noted when a hand touched her bottom, sliding behind her to caress one cheek then the other.
There was no ignoring the fingertip that stoked the length of her divide. "Jesus," she gasped, tensing head to toe.
A pinch stung one cheek, making her jerk. "Relax your cheeks," Mondo said. "Let me touch you there."
She shook her head. "I'm good."
Laughter, low and dirty, sounded from behind her. Another pinch, this one harder, had her gritting her teeth to keep from crying out. "That hurt."
"Do as I say. I don't want to hurt you."
"It's embarrassing."
"What? Being naked while four men watch another man eat you out?"
"No...yes. Dammit. You are not putting your finger there."
"Oh, but I am."
"Who does that?" Never mind Jackson had, but he was her boyfriend.
"Me. The sooner you let me, the sooner I'll let Gus bring you to orgasm."
Gus shook his head, which rubbed his whiskered cheeks against her inner thighs and burrowed his face deeper in her pussy. His mouth was right there...
"Give yourself to us," Mondo said, his voice soft, seductively masculine. "There will only be pleasure. I swear."
She hung her head and closed her eyes, breathing deeply to slow the quickening flutter of her heartbeats. Mondo's finger trailed up her backside again, and she relented. Relaxing her cheeks, allowing his palms to spread her buttocks.
A fingertip, this one lubed, touched her sensitive rosette, rubbing gel around the small hole then pushing. Mondo bit her ear, then whispered. "Let me inside."
A shudder racked her body. Her breasts hardened, the tips tightening. Gus suckled her labia, tugging with his lips. Lord, she wanted his mouth to draw on her clit and make her come, but she knew Mondo would never allow it. Not until she gave in.
"All right," she whispered back. "Do it."
His finger probed again, and this time she concentrated on keeping the ring relaxed despite the burning intrusion. His finger burrowed and swirled. Her sphincter clamped around it, but he was already inside.
"Was that so bad?"
She gasped. "No."
"If I bend you over that lounger, would you let me have your ass?"
She shook her head. "Jackson. I told Jackson he could do it first."
"First?" Mondo laughed. "We'll see about that."
He pulled his fingers free, then two teased her hole while Gus continued to torture her with broad laps that only served to engorge her bare pussy.
"I'm going to push two fingers inside you. Will you take me?"
Her thighs trembled, and she was glad for her restraints because her knees would have buckled. Deep in her core, tension was winding, tighter and tighter. She knew what they all looked like, the three of them crowded around the cross while the others watched. It wasn't a scene she'd ever thought she'd star in.
His fingers left. Something smoother rubbed against her asshole, then pushed inside. She glanced down to see that one of Gus's hands was between her legs, pushing something inside her.
"It's a plug, sweetheart," Mondo said. "I want that in your ass. You have to keep it there."
"Getting it up might be a problem," she ground out as the plug widened. Her tender hole burned.
"Just a little more," Gus said, his voice muffled, because he was still there, head between her legs, peering up.
"Close your eyes!"
"Why? Your asshole's pretty."
She rolled her eyes. "It's no such thing."
One corner of his mouth kicked up. "I'm just gonna give this a little twist, screw it in."
"Breathe," Mondo said beside her ear.
"Oooh," she moaned as her ass burned. "I don't like this."
"You don't like me," Mondo whispered. "Not right now, do you?"
She turned her head to lock gazes with him. "I can't believe I didn't know you were such a control freak."
"Only about some things."
The plug twisted, swirling in gel, then pushed upward. When the base narrowed, she let out the breath she'd been holding as the burning relented.
"That stays inside until I say so."
"Whatever," she muttered.
Her irritation was all show, and the gleam in his dark eyes said he knew it, maybe even relished the challenge. But so did she. Just the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared made her nipples ache.
Mondo shook his head and tsked. "Gus, I don't think she deserves an orgasm."
Gus groaned and settled back on his haunches. His face gleamed with her juices, his lips were swollen. He placed his hands on his thighs and looked up to Mondo, who came around her side.
Mondo held out his hand.
Beau slapped a wand with a long strands of rawhide against his palm.
"Oh no," she said, stiffening. The plug began to ease out of her and she tightened around it, unwilling to eject it in front of the group.
Mondo moved directly in front of her. He trailed the tail of the flogger over his erect cock then raised his arm.
Flick-flick-flick. Across her abdomen. The strands didn't sting, but still made her skin jump. He flicked again, this time against her inner thighs. Then he rubbed the leather into the moisture glazing her pussy. The end of the wand pushed against her lips, and she tensed, thinking he meant to impale her with it, but the wand fell away again.
"Jackson told us how much he loves your breasts. How responsive they are."
Her nipples tingled at just the mention. She licked her lips and gave him a glare, because she knew where the next flicks would land.
Anticipation made her body grow rigid, her hands curling into fists. Her breaths deepened and she leaned away from the cross, fighting her restraints.
His hand shot out and whipped back. The flanges stroked one nipple. A sharp, slicing glance that had her hissing between her teeth. This blow had stung---but in a delicious way. Fire burned the nipple, causing it to draw tighter. He flicked the other, and this time, she let out a short cry.
"I didn't mean to do that," she whispered. "I was just surprised."
"Sure you were," Mondo said, his tone a seductive murmur. "Shall I surprise you some more?"
Marti blew a breath between her lips, meeting his gaze. He knew perfectly well how aroused she was. Fluid dripped down one thigh. Her nipples were spiked, the areolas puckered. Her whole chest and belly quivered. She had to know what it was like. How close to orgasm he could bring her with the caress and sting of his flogger.
"More," she whispered. She leaned back, resting her head against the smooth wood and watched as he stroked her with calculated whispers of leather that left her skin pink and her woman's core elated.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Jackson's expression. The tightness of his jaw, the burning arousal in his eyes. Was he pleased? Had he expected her to love this?
An upward flick branded her blood-plumped pussy, and she gave a hoarse scream.
"Now, Gus," Mondo said tossing away the flogger.
Gus fell to his knees in front of her, pulled her clit between his lips and drew hard.
Mondo stood behind Gus, his legs flush against his back as he leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. The two men suckled and lapped, drew hard, then petted her with soothing laps of their tongues until she fought the bindings at her wrists and writhed her body against them, begging silently for release.
A hand cupped her cheek, turning her face. Jackson leaned toward her and took her mouth in a blazing kiss, his tongue thrusting deep, his mouth consuming hers.
Gus and Mondo, in unison, drew hard on her nipple and her clit, Gus gripping the base of her erect nub and mouthing it so fervently, she came apart, biting down on Jackson's tongue. But he didn't move, didn't so much as grunt, his gaze locking with hers as she swayed and shuddered through her orgasm.
Velcro scratched, and suddenly her limp arms fell. She sagged forward, but Jackson caught her against his chest,
Her head fell back. "Jesus," she breathed.
He kissed her mouth hard then bent to lift her in his arms. "Catch your breath, baby, we're not done yet."
As Jackson held her, she laid her cheek against his shoulder. Scuffling footsteps sounded around them, but she didn't care. Right now, she needed to remember how to breathe.
At last the sounds died. She lifted her head, bumping against Jackson's jaw, but he only chuckled. When she glanced around, she nearly had a heart attack. Mondo sat on the chaise, his back against the pillows, stroking his cloaked cock and watching her with his dark, steady gaze.
She shook her head. But that only made him smile. Then he lifted his index finger and pointed toward his cock.
Jackson set her on her feet. Pride had her stiffening her legs and straightening her shoulders. No way was Mondo going to make her whimper.
Shaking back her hair, she stepped toward the lounger.
"Crawl to me," he said, widening his legs.
"Crawl?" She nearly laughed at the absurdity. What did he think she was? His love slave?
"On your hands and knees. I think you know how."
"You always this charming? No wonder you can't keep a girlfriend."
The men around her chuckled, but a muscle along Mondo's jaw flexed.
Had she hit a nerve? Why the fuck did she feel guilty? The thought had her edging a knee onto the chaise, but she hesitated bending to place her hands there too.
"Crawl," he repeated softly. "Is there a problem?"
"My ass'll be in the air."
"And the men will all admire it. It's very pretty."
"There's a plug up my butt."
His eyelids drooped. "Think of it as jewelry," he murmured sexily.
This time, Marti couldn't help it. She laughed.
Mondo's mouth twitched then stretched into a wide smile. "A little too much?"
"Ya think?"
He shrugged, still grinning. "Everyone wants to see the plug. It'll turn them on. You want them turned on, don't you?"
"Seriously? I don't know if I can handle much more."
"Baby, you will. It's just one night." His eyebrows waggled. "You know you want to."
"I'm such a slut." She ignored the chuckles from the men and dropped onto her hands, then slid her other knee onto the lounger and crawled between his legs. Her gaze fell upon his cock.
"Lips only."
She didn't bother making another fuss at his arrogant command. Who would she be fooling? Already, she salivated for a taste of his thick, dark cock. She licked her lips, then kissed his cock, rubbing her closed mouth over the smooth crown, spreading moisture. Then ducking down, she licked up the side of his shaft, stroking him, lapping under the grooved edge before returning for another root-to-tip swipe.
All the while she wondered who this person was, this wanton who was so eager to please a man she didn't really know that well. What were the others thinking? Were they watching her lick Mondo's dick like an ice cream cone and wishing she'd give them some of the same? The thought of all five of them lined up to receive service made her heart kick into higher gear.
Mondo killed the dream, reaching over to pull the lobes of her ears to remind her who was in charge. He centered her over his cock, then dug in his thumbnails.
She smirked but opened, sinking over him, swallowing him down as far as she could before she gagged, then came back up.
"Deep throat it, baby," Jackson said from nearer than she'd thought he was. "We all wanna watch."
His voice was a deep rumble, the tone the same as when they lay in bed snuggling. Wanting to make him proud of her skill, she loosened her jaw and waggled her head, taking Mondo past the back of her throat. She breathed through her nose and dropped lower to force his cock to tunnel into her throat. When her lips met his shaved groin, she was held still by the press of his nails.
"This is a treasure, Jackson," Mondo said, his voice slightly strained.
Jackson's grunt was audible, even to her, while blood rushed through her ears as she bent low over Mondo.
Fingers touched her pussy, fingering the edges of her inner folds, then plunged inside her---three, she guessed, by the girth that drove deep into her channel. Excitement had made her throat tighten, and she whimpered, afraid she'd gag and really embarrass herself.
Mondo released her ears, and she came off him, pushing up to glare behind her.
Jackson pulled his hand free then slowly licked his juiced-up fingers. "Straddle him, Marti."
His voice was so firm and uninflected, she shook her head, feeling suddenly vulnerable, and for the first time entirely naked, body and emotions. Her eyes filled.
"Climb on his cock and then bend over. There's something you wanted. I'll give it to you now."
She gulped hard then turned slowly to face Mondo again. Once again, his hand stroked his rigid cock. He paused, slid a hand beneath the pillows at his back and brought out a foil packet. As he rolled a sheath down his cock, his chest rose and fell in even breaths. How did he manage to remain calm when she was a shivering bundle of nerves?
However, when he slowly closed his legs, she stepped out from between them, placing her knees on either side of his hips, then gingerly lowered her body to consume his cock. His hands went to her hips to steady her, easing her down until she sat with her pussy flush against his groin just as her mouth had been moments ago.
A hand pushed between her shoulder blades forcing her to lean over Mondo. Fingers plucked at the plug and removed it. Her cheeks burned, but she pressed her mouth into a straight line, unwilling to show weakness.
Mondo's gaze never strayed from her face, not when the plug slipped free, not when someone washed her rear entrance, and not when another man climbed onto the lounger behind her.
Jackson's firm hands slipped around her torso and lifted her until her arms straightened. Then he cupped her bottom and pushed apart the globes of her ass. Since he was holding her spread, someone else had to be rubbing lube around her hole.
She shook her head, but still uttered no complaint. Only when Jackson pushed the tip of his cock against her entrance did she let loose with another whimper.
Mondo palmed her breasts and massaged them. "Breathe deep. Relax. You will like this."
"You swearing again?"
"You liked the flogging, didn't you?"
She nodded slowly.
Jackson pushed, circling his hips behind her, easing slowly into her.
The pressure was immense. The burning nearly painful. Air hissed between her clenched teeth.
Mondo squeezed her breasts, a welcome distraction. "You'll love his dick sliding up your ass. When he's deep inside you, he'll move for both of us."
The crown breached her tight opening, but held there. Jackson's breaths shortened.
Needing to think about something else, she asked, "Mondo, can I ask you something?"
"Anything, darling."
"Do you think a man can forget something like this? Forget his friend was seven inches deep inside his girl?"
"You worry too much about rules. About what a man thinks. Jackson's been in charge this entire time. He let me take the lead. He let me have your pussy. Do you feel how hard he is?"
She gasped. "Im-possible to miss."
Jackson grunted.
"Jackson wants you. But he wants you without reservations. This isn't your test of commitment at all, amor. It's his."
"Do I pass?" she whispered.
"We'll see. Amigo, any time you're ready."
Jackson changed his grip, one hand cupping a buttock, the other reaching around to press against her lower belly. Slowly he pushed again, circling then driving inward, circling again, easing the constriction of her muscles.
"Uhhnnnnn," she moaned, eyes squeezing shut.
Fingers pinched her nipples then pulled them, stretching them and letting them go to bounce back. The delightful torture stole her concentration, and Jackson eased deeper inside, almost unnoticed.
"Again," she groaned.
Mondo plied her nipples with cruel skill, twirling, scraping, tugging until they stung. But at last, Jackson was tunneling deeply and the burning had eased.
When his groin met her bottom, he leaned over her, pressing her down against Mondo. They lay connected so long Marti was afraid she'd embarrass herself because she was nearly at the point of begging for someone to move.
Heat curled deep inside her belly. Her pussy was damp, flooding her channel, soaking Mondo in her juices and no doubt seeping onto the chaise.
"I'll have to rent a Rug-Doctor---with attachments," she muttered.
Mondo grinned, his face losing its grim dominance. "You are very, very wet."
"I can't stand it," she admitted. "I need someone to move, or I'm gonna start buckin' hard."
"Don't hurt yourself. Let Jackson do the work."
"Your ass is squeezing my dick to death," Jackson gritted out.
"Wuss!" Craig called out. "You consider that a problem?"
Beau and Gus laughed, pulling her bleary-eyed gaze. They sat cross-legged on the rug, watching the three of them like it was Monday night football.
Jackson kissed her shoulder then eased off her back. "Baby, come up on your arms."
She pushed up, but her arms trembled. Mondo helped, bracing a hand against her shoulder. "Anytime you're ready..."
Once again, Jackson braced her with a hand in front and back, then began to slowly withdraw.
Her eyes closed again; her lips drew away from her teeth. Not so much from pain, although there was some discomfort, but rather from the foreign feeling of having a cock pull free then plunge slowly back inside.
Soon, a slow steady rhythm made the motions bearable. She couldn't contain the sighs that grew louder the deeper he plunged. "Um...ah" became the extent of the noises she could manage, because she was getting hotter, wetter. Her body was coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Sandwiched between two furnaces, she was gliding easily, skin against skin, slippery inside and out.
Mondo slid a hand between them and found her engorged clit. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger then pulled it in little fucking motions that made her tighten around both their cocks. She flung back her head. "Jackson!"
He came closer, and she reached back, clutching his hair as he pounded into her, moving her forward and back, her tightened pussy pulling and pushing on Mondo's cock.
Mondo's expression was honed. His cheeks and jaw etched by the depth of his arousal.
They writhed together, each pushed along by the other's movements, on sensory overload. The smell of sex, of sweat, the sounds of guttural moans and gasping sobs filled the room.
At last, Jackson's motions quickened. He hammered into her, jerking her on Mondo's cock, and she couldn't last another second. She screamed, her breasts pushing outward, her back arching to lift her ass.
Jackson shouted and plunged one last time, then rocked against her, still lodged deep.
She glanced down at Mondo's half-closed eyes. He blinked sleepily, then gave a weary smile. "Told you you'd like that."
She sucked in a deep breath. "Did you come?"
"You two were makin' so much noise you must have missed it."
Marti smiled, suddenly weary. "Yeah, we were. But I didn't bleat once."
Jackson's laughter shook against her. "You need a shower."
"Not nice. You sayin' I stink?"
"No, I'm sayin' that my buddies haven't had a chance to fully enjoy you yet."
Marti shook her head. "Jackson..."
His mouth trailed up her neck. "We're not done. Not nearly."
"Even if I cry uncle?"
"We haven't checked everything off the list."
"What's left?"
His teeth nipped her earlobe. "How the hell did you forget? I've got it seared into my brain."
Mentally, she clicked through her fantasies. "The last one's... Oh. Crap." She turned slowly to meet his gaze. "Uncle."
His grin was wry, if a little pained. "I'm still in charge. And I say we aren't done."
"Yeah, but that one's...not possible."
"Sure it is. But we'll work you back up to it."
Her body shivered. Mondo cleared his throat. She glanced down.
"Sweetheart, we stay like this much longer, and I'll think you want more of little Mondo."
"Not little," she growled.
"Glad you noticed," he said grinning.
Marti discovered quickly that it was truly possible to die from great sex. She did three times more. Once from Gus pushing her up against the shower stall wall for a no-holds-barred fucking. Again with Beau when he stepped in behind Gus, and took her in his mouth with her backside still hugging tile.
This time, she was certain she'd land in hell for good. Beau and Craig lay with her sandwiched between them, doing their best to finish the last item on her list. Beau's cock was deep inside her pussy, and Craig wasn't all that sure there was enough room for him too.
"Maybe if you quit squeezing me out," he muttered.
"Never gonna work," she groused.
Craig, who lay behind her with one arm under her side and his hand between her folds, pinched her clit.
"Ow?"
"Haven't we been patient?" he asked, nipping her earlobe. "We're last. We've suffered through watching all your orgasms."
"What if I'm too sore?"
"That true?"
She was sore, but she was also still aroused. Not as sharply needful as she'd been earlier---because hey, her body had been thoroughly used---but enough she was going to let them have their way with her. Eventually.
After all, she'd never have this chance again. And she was feeling a strange sense of pride that she'd handled everything on her list thus far without flinching.
Besides, Beau's straight-lipped expression turned her on. She had to know whether he let loose when he came. And Craig had earned this. He'd been Jackson's wingman for months. Giving him some pussy seemed only fair. "I'm such a slut."
"Our slut for the moment," Craig said, sounding cheerful about the fact.
Jackson had left them alone, promising to return. The night was almost over, and he still had a question to ask.
"It's not fair. I'll be fucked too senseless to give him a good answer."
"You're not supposed to think," Beau said. "It's a no-brainer anyway. Admit it."
She grunted. Too tired to laugh.
Craig cupped a breast and rolled her nipple with his fingers.
"Now, that's sore."
"Really?"
"No, but I don't want to come that fast. You guys'll only tease me again." She detected a twitch at the corner of Beau's mouth. "I don't think it's funny."
"You talk a lot during sex," he said.
"Doesn't seem to bother Jackson."
Craig tweaked her nipple again and nuzzled behind ear. "I'd find better uses for your mouth."
"Who says he doesn't?"
Craig inserted a finger into her vagina, below Beau's cock, then stretched the tissue outward. His cock nudged into the opening, slightly under and to the side. He pushed.
Air hissed. This time between Beau's teeth. "Kinda tight, buddy."
"Worried you'll like my dick?"
Beau aimed a glare at Craig. "I like how it stretches her cunt."
Marti squealed. "Guys. That word again."
"Cunt's too dirty, huh?" Craig drawled.
"Yeah."
"Beau, ease out of her cunt half way. We'll push inside together."
Her head rested on Beau's arm, so she felt the tension under her cheek when both men flexed to drive their cocks inside her at the same time.
Marti tried to hold back, she really did, but that much meat cramming deep into her body was more than she could withstand. She came with a bellow, digging her nails into Beau's shoulders and writhing like a wild thing between them.
The two men stroked only half-way into her, but it seemed to be enough. Craig gave a muffled shout while Beau gritted his teeth. His body jerked once, then eased.
Together, they lay panting, and then Marti began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Craig asked, sounding lazily amused.
"Are you sure it was me that got you off and not each other?"
Beau's eyes narrowed. "Not a word."
"Our little secret," she promised, grinning sleepily.
"We heard you all the way into the living room. I take it we've scratched off the last of your fantasies?" This came from Mondo, who was dressed in jeans and leaning against the doorframe. His glance raked them all, a single dark brow arched.
Marti groaned. "Every last wicked one of them."
"Your presence is required, chica."
Beau and Craig pulled away, not looking at each other.
Marti, still smirking, pulled the top sheet around her and climbed off the bed.
"Who said you could hide your body?" Mondo asked.
She waved her hand at him. "You're dressed."
"We still need you naked."
Marti slumped. "I'm done. So done. You have no idea what these two put me through."
"I can guess," he said, raising his narrowed gaze to the other two men who slipped wordlessly past him on their way to the living room. "Lose the sheet."
"Fine." She dropped it and would have stomped past him, but she was just too tired.
Mondo trailed her down the hallway to the living room. Once again, a transformation had occurred. The chaise was still in the center of the floor, but red rose petals were strewn across the cushions.
Marti halted, frozen in place.
All the men were dressed, save Jackson. He stood beside the lounger and raised his hand, palm up.
Without hesitating, she glided toward him. His expression was tense, his eyes dark and probing. When she slid her hand inside his, he tugged her down, sitting her at the edge of the seat.
Holding her gaze, he dropped to one knee.
"Oh no," she whispered. "I'm naked. And you're naked. What the hell am I gonna tell our kids about how their dad proposed?"
The tension in Jackson's face eased. "Guess I don't need to ask again, do I? You already see a future for us."
She scooted closer and framed his face with her palms. "Jackson, I can't see a future that doesn't include you. You're my everything."
"The ring," Gus prompted with loud whisper.
Jackson reached under the lounge and pulled out a small jeweler's box.
Marti shook her head.
"Gonna turn me down again?" His eyes glittered. "In front of witnesses?"
"I won't be able to look at that ring without thinking about everything that happened tonight."
"Then I better make sure you only remember how it ends." He kissed her, a hand sliding around her waist to pull her from the seat.
Her legs parted and she settled on his lap, wrapping herself, arms and legs around his naked body and holding tight. "Who am I kidding?" She kissed his cheek, his chin, then his smiling mouth. "Yes. Yes. Yes."
Marti finished entering the numbers for the supply order into the spreadsheet, saved it, then closed down her computer. She checked her watch. If she hurried, she could still watch most of the boys' flag football game.
Boys. She'd have a hard time calling them that after the night they'd given her. After drinking champagne to celebrate Jackson's and her engagement, she'd fallen into a dead sleep, not waking until Jackson sat on the edge of the bed that morning, wearing a torn jersey and faded sweatpants. He'd made coffee and set the cup on the nightstand beside her.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he'd said, ruffling her curls.
Seeing him dressed, she'd grimaced. "Will you think I'm not romantic when I say I'm glad you're not up for anything this morning?"
"I'd think you're so well fucked you might not be able to sit at my mother's table without a pillow under your butt."
She'd grabbed his pillow and swatted his arm, but he took it from her, grabbed her wrists and came down on top of her to kiss her.
Barely able to breathe, she'd giggled. "I like the way you wake me up."
He'd nuzzled the corner of her neck. "I could call them. Tell them my horny fiancé won't let me out of bed. I'm sure they'll all understand. They've seen you in action."
Marti had shaken her head. "I wish we could stay here. But I'd sleep all day." She pushed against his chest. "Go. I have to meet Grady."
"Come watch the game? We're playing firemen today. I know how much they turn you on."
"They do not."
"Liar."
She'd bracketed his face with her hands and leaned up to mash his lips with hers. "Go!"
His head had turned, glimpsed her hand, then he'd given her a wicked smile. "I like seein' you wear my ring."
She wrinkled her nose. "I feel branded."
"Is it a bad thing?"
"No, I like being owned. By you."
Opening her office door, she smiled, thinking about the grin he'd worn walking out the door.
A figure blocked the way. A man wearing a bandana covering his lower face and a New Orleans ball cap atop his head.
She gasped and pressed her hands against her stomach. Terror made the blood drain from her face in a cold wash.
He waved a gun in front of her. "Open your safe, bitch."
Her stomach sank. "There's not much cash in there. It's deposited every night. I only have what's needed to fill the till tomorrow."
His head seemed to sink into his shoulders as he muscled forward. "Open it," he shouted.
Where the hell was Grady? This punk should never have made it past him. Had he injured him? It had to be the guy who'd been robbing businesses up and down the strip.
"I'll do what you ask," she said, turning quickly. With her back to him, she stumbled toward the safe behind her desk. While she shuffled there, she pulled the ring from her finger. Bending to turn the tumbler, she slipped it into her mouth.
"Hurry it up!"
"I can't think when you shout," she shot over her shoulder then winced. Who shouted at a gunman?
The lock's mechanism made its final click. She pulled down the latch, opened the door, and reached inside for the cash tray.
When she turned, she set the tray on her desk. "Take it, that's all I have. One hundred dollars."
"It's not enough," he said, prowling in front of her desk, slamming his fist against the wall and kicking her desk.
"My purse," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. "I have about forty dollars in my wallet. I'll give you that as well. Just go, please."
She bent to pick up her purse.
"Don't you fucking move," he shrieked. "Gonna pull a gun on me?"
His breaths were short, sharp, and he sounded oddly near tears. Had she somehow rattled him? That might be bad.
Marti held up her hands. "I don't have a gun. I'm just getting my purse. See?" she said, holding up her right hand, "I'll reach with my left and put it on top of the desk. Please be careful with that gun. This doesn't have to end badly."
She opened her wallet, drew out the bills, and held them up. "I'll put all the cash in the deposit bag for you," she said, forcing calm into her voice. "That'll make it easier for you. I'll just open my top drawer, all right?"
He nodded, the gun still pointed right at her.
Marti opened the drawer, retrieved the bag and put the cash from the tray and the bills from her purse inside it then zipped it closed. "Do you want the coins too?"
"It's taking too long. Get over here."
With her arms raised, she came around the desk, he grabbed the bag, stuffed it down the front of his baggy jeans, then gripped her shoulder and pushed her out the door, down the corridor to the bar.
She glanced around, but saw no sign of Grady.
"Behind the bar. Get on your knees."
She opened her mouth, not sure what more she could say. She didn't think tearful begging would work. It'd just piss him off more. Turning slowly, she walked around the bar. "This doesn't have to end badly. I'll lie on the floor no problem. I'll count to a hundred, until I'm sure you've had enough time to get away."
"On your knees." His hand slammed down on her shoulder, pushing her to the ground.
Her knees hit hard, and that's when she saw Grady, hands bound behind him, feet wrapped in duct tape with another silver swatch over his mouth. There was blood dripping down his forehead, but he still managed a wink.
She knelt, feeling as though time had slowed, hoping the escalating violence Jackson had worried about didn't mean the kid was going to kill them this time. He had a gun. He was agitated enough to use it. Wouldn't you know, the best night of her life might turn out to have been her last.
At the snap, a fireman, a strapping redhead with shoulders as broad as Gus's, waded through their rank, whipping the quarterback around and stealing the flag from his back pocket.
The play ended, but Jackson plowed into Beau's middle, taking him to the ground.
"Damn, man. You tryin' to kill me?" Beau asked, sitting up and shaking his head as though to clear it. "Ain't we on the same damn side?"
"Yeah, why so rough today?" Craig asked, sitting on the ground beside them while they all caught their breath.
"Just tryin' to knock those shit-eating grins off your faces."
Craig laughed. "Can't help it. My best buddy's gettin' married."
"You know damn well that's not what you're smilin' about," Jackson growled.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about," Craig said, all innocence. He elbowed Beau, who winced. "Do you know what he's talkin' about?"
"Haven't got a damn clue," Beau said, his gaze locking with Jackson's.
So that's how they'd play it.
Jackson nodded. "Guess I don't have to grind you into the ground." He got up, reached down and offered a hand to Beau. "Sorry about that buddy."
Beau snorted. "My sister's tackled me harder than that."
Jackson walked to his sports bag to get his thermos. He picked up his telephone and checked for messages. "Thought she'd be here by now."
"Maybe she decided to sleep in." At Jackson's sharp glare, Craig shrugged. "Just sayin'. She had a big night. Girl got engaged."
Jackson clicked down his list of stored numbers and hit the tavern's. The phone rang until the message machine picked up. His belly tightened; the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms prickled. "Something's not right. She said she'd be here right after she and Grady finished their supply order."
All three locked glances.
Craig blew out a breath. "You don't think..."
"He'd have to know better than hit a bar on a Sunday," Beau said. "There's no cash."
Jackson cussed and picked up his bag. "Gotta go."
"Right behind you," Craig said. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Guys!"
Marti's car was parked in front of the bar. He'd tried her phone again, but it went straight to voice mail.
"Got a bad feeling about this," Mondo whispered.
While Craig, Mondo and Beau tried the door in front, Jackson and Gus went around the back. It should have been locked, but swung open without depressing the handle. Tape placed over the strike plate explained why.
Jackson and Gus shared a quick glance, then entered the tavern, pulling the door closed behind them. The corridor was darkened except for light glaring from Marti's office doorway. A quick glance inside told the story. The safe door was open, the cash tray empty beside her purse.
He cussed softly, wishing he had his sidearm, but it was in the safe back at the apartment. No one carried to the game. Glass crashed in the distance, likely the guys breaking through the front door. Keeping to the shadows in case the robber was still there, he hurried down the hallway. The open area appeared empty, but he ducked down, edging around the bar to peek quickly behind it.
Two figures sat hunched with their backs against one side. "Baby?"
A head snapped his way, a muffled mewl sounded.
"We're clear," Mondo shouted.
Lights flickered on.
Jackson hurried around the corner and slid on his knees beside Marti. He nodded to Grady. "Grady's injured. Who's callin' it in?"
"Already did," Beau shouted back.
"Any sign of him?"
"No. Looks like he's been gone a while."
Jackson grabbed a paring knife and knelt beside Marti. He cut through the tape at her feet, then turned her gently to slice through the tape around her hands. She moaned, and he rubbed her shoulders and back.
"I know it hurts. Give it a minute for your circulation to come back."
She raised her head. Tears tracked down her cheeks and over her taped mouth. He stopped rubbing long enough to pick at one corner of the tape. "This'll smart."
She nodded, then gave a high-pitched yelp when he ripped it off.
Instantly, she launched herself into his arms, burrowing against his chest. "I was so scared. He had a gun and was acting weird."
He wrapped his arms tightly around her and felt her shaking but quickly realized it was because he was shaking. While Gus cut Grady free, Jackson settled on the floor and drew her fully onto his lap. "It's okay, baby. I've got you now. It's over."
"I kept talking---I couldn't shut up. But he was getting more and more agitated."
He almost smiled, thinking about her babbling, because that's what she did. "You're okay now. He didn't get much cash. And I'm sorry about the ring, but it's insured."
"Um, he didn't get the ring."
"No?"
She lifted her head and wrinkled her nose. "I swallowed it."
Jackson gave a single bark of laughter. Marti giggled, then started to cry again. "I didn't want him spoiling it for us, Jackson. But it's gonna be a while before I can show your mama what a pretty stone you got me."
With sirens blaring in the distance, he leaned back, taking her with him as he continued to stroke her back. "Don't suppose either of you got a look at him."
"Wore a mask," Grady said.
"And a Saints ball cap, navy tee, baggy jeans with money bag stuffed down the front. And he's a white kid with a big nose and tiny chin." Marti lifted her head, her eyes narrowing on the grin stretching across his mouth. "What?"
"I love you, Marti Kowalski."
"I know."
Jackson and Marti stood in front of the chain-link gate.
"Are you sure the skirt's not too short?" she asked, while combing her hair back with a nervous hand. Would his mother mind the blue streak? Should she have dyed her hair before coming?
"Stop fussing. You look wonderful. Although maybe a little bow-legged."
She slapped his shoulder. "Not one word. I don't need to be red as a beet meeting your mom for the first time."
He opened the gate, then swept out an arm for her to enter. She stepped onto the flagstone path and headed toward the small white-washed house. A row of roses, from lavender to deep red, stood like soldiers in front of the long wrap-around porch. The grass was neatly trimmed. Marti guessed that with four sons, Jackson's mom need never worry about that.
She halted in the middle of the path. Jackson clutched her hips as he bumped into her. She whirled around. "You never said. How many children do you want?"
Jackson eyed her, like maybe she'd asked a trick question. "As many as you want."
She narrowed her gaze and snorted. "You're just saying that so I don't change my mind."
"Sweetheart, I already told you, I don't say anything I don't mean." His hand crept around her back, settling in the small just above her bottom. He pushed her gently forward. "I promise she won't bite."
"I know. But I want her to like me." No, she wanted his mother to love her.
As they stepped up the stairs and onto the porch, the curtain beside the window stirred. A moment later the door swung open. A short, compact-bodied little woman with a dark bob and a wide smile glanced from Jackson to Marti. She smoothed her hands on the sides of her skirt, then held out both to Marti.
Marti gave her one cold hand, then felt warmth surround hers as Jackson's mother pulled her forward for a tight hug. "I'm Mary Teague, but you can call me mom."
About the Author
Until recently, award-winning erotica and romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she's missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation---the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it's comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs, and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now---writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation.
To learn more about Delilah Devlin, please visit www.delilahdevlin.com. Send an email to delilah@delilahdevlin.com or join her Yahoo! group to enter in the fun with other readers as well as Delilah: DelilahsDiary@yahoogroups.com
Look for these titles by Delilah Devlin
Now Available:
Saddled
Stone's Embrace
True Heart
Undeniable
Lone Star Lovers
Unbridled
Unforgiven
Four Sworn
Breaking Leather
A Four-Gone Conclusion
Coming Soon:
Lone Heart
One devilish night...or a chance at heaven?
A Four-Gone Conclusion
© 2011 Delilah Devlin
Lone Star Lovers, Book 5
Sam Logan's foster sons have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear they don't plan on giving up scootin' after every pretty pair of boots in town anytime soon, he issues the one thing he knows they can't resist: a challenge. Find a wife.
The oldest, Johnny, is actually grateful. He's had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for a long time, and Sam's challenge is the kick in the pants he needed to ask her out. Except before he can make his move, his brothers kidnap her right out from under his nose. Now, instead of being one question away from victory, he has to compete for the woman of his dreams.
Ellie thought she'd be a dried up old spinster before Johnny finally untangled his tongue long enough to ask for a date. But instead of teaching him better uses for that tongue, his brothers have whisked her away to the ranch. At first she's furious...then intrigued when she starts to wonder what it might be like to have not just one sexy cowboy dedicated to her pleasure, but four...
Warning: Four handsome cowboys. Four choices. Will it be a single sordid night or a chance at heaven as she savors every luscious inch of the Logan brothers?
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Four-Gone Conclusion:
"It's time you boys found yerselves a wife." Sam Logan made his pronouncement then waited, watching the four younger men seated at the table from the corner of his eye. He didn't have to wait long for his words to sink in. They exploded in the room with the force of a silent grenade.
Johnny's jaw closed with a snap, and he laid his spoon down on the scarred oak table. His black winged brows drew together, nearly meeting over his dark eyes as he raised his head.
Sam suppressed a smile. That look could make the toughest hombre gulp, but Sam wasn't the least bit concerned. Johnny tended to look mean when things changed. His oldest boy hated any kind of change.
If any other man had said what he had, Johnny would have cussed under his breath and aimed a piercing, silencing glare. However, he respected Sam, trusted him as much as he could anyone. That trust and respect were the only things that kept his butt on the bench beside his brother Killian.
For his part, Killian's eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips twitched. Likely he was amused by Johnny's reaction and didn't want to let him off the hook too quickly, but was already lining up all the reasons why Sam's idea was ludicrous. He was quick that way.
Sam calmly ladled the hearty stew he'd made into his mouth and let his gaze roam to the twins. Jason was coughing into his napkin while Mace gave him "helpful" taps between his shoulder blades.
Mace caught his stare and grinned. "A wife, did you say?"
Sam grunted, ignoring the one word that had caught his son's attention. "This is the third time this week we've had stew," he murmured. Not to change the subject, but to point out a glaring fact.
"I like stew just fine," Johnny muttered.
"This house misses a woman's touch." There, he'd said it. Sat the big gorilla in the room right at the dinner table. Impossible to ignore.
"Gracie can't be replaced," Killian said softly.
The permanent ache next to his heart echoed that truth. Sam nodded. "She's gone. Three years. I miss her every day. Know you do too. But life goes on. You're men now. You have an obligation. Ranchin's a family business. Y'all need families."
Johnny cleared his throat. "No disrespect intended, Sam, but you didn't get sons the old-fashioned way."
"Not because Gracie and I didn't try. And in the end, we had no regrets. We both loved you all like you was our own."
"So, you'd rather saddle us with---"
Sam aimed a quelling stare. "Think I felt like Gracie was a noose around my neck?"
"No sir, but..." Johnny's hands fisted on the tabletop. "Hell, how're we to find someone like her?"
Sam understood what he meant. Gracie's passing had left a hole in all their hearts. The boys had loved her. Took to her the very first day he'd brought each of them home. Gracie had been born to be a mother, and she'd showered them all with the things they'd needed most---acceptance and unconditional love.
"Boys, Gracie wasn't born a rancher's wife. Truth is, she didn't know a bull from a cow and damn near poisoned me with the first meals she cooked. But she learned. Find a woman willin' to learn, one you kin love and who'll love you back."
"You said, 'a wife'." Mace wasn't gonna let that slip of the tongue go.
Sam shook his head and gave the twins a faint glimmer of a smile. Those two could always see the humor in any predicament. "Thought I'd give you two options. I know one can't piss without the other goin' too. And there are damn few single women to go around these parts. 'Nough said?" When all of them nodded, he cleared his throat. "I'll be out of town for the next four days. Auction in Abilene. The house is yours."
The man won the hand, but the women changed the rules.
Duty Bound
© 2011 Myla Jackson
Bound and Tied, Book 2
Cowgirl KC Matheson is fresh out of ideas. Thanks to her father's unlucky poker hand, her family is about to lose their ranch. Desperate to entice the winner to let her family keep their home, KC appeals to a sensual stranger, Rosalyn, to help awaken her inner vixen. A vixen with the womanly skills to make a deal with the devil.
Sent to fetch a companion for his partner's pregnant wife, miner Jake Thompson never thought luck could change this fast. First, his royal flush lands him a ranch. Then a punch in the face. Now the rancher's daughter, a woman with a body made for sin, is trying to seduce him into giving up his winnings. Jake has a better idea: her for the ranch. And to ensure she makes good on the bargain, there's a catch---she has to keep his interest, or the deal is off.
The three set off on the two-day trek to Jake's claim, experiencing wondrous delights in the cool mountain air. Then reality sets in, leaving Jake saddled with a mail-order bride, a deflowered virgin, and an unexpected desire to make things right with KC...forever.
Warning: This title contains hot ménage a trois scenes, girl-on-girl action, bondage, and two determined women---double the heat for one sexy miner. To settle a debt right proper only takes some female know-how, a willing student and a length of rope!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Duty Bound:
KC glanced down at the thin, light blue shirt, and her face burned. The dark circles of her nipples shown through in the firelight. She crossed her arms over her breasts.
Jake stood next to the fire, stripped his shirt off and draped it over a branch near the crackling flames. "If it offends you, turn your backs. I'll only take a moment."
KC obliged. Rosalyn had no qualms watching Jake strip out of his trousers. "My, my. He is quite the catch," she whispered.
"Have you no decency?" KC hissed through her clattering teeth. Too cold to give a damn, she finally moved to unbutton her shirt, only her fingers were too stiff to maneuver the buttons out of their holes.
"Let me. After all I feel responsible."
"Damn right you are. What got into you?"
"I don't know. Seems like you might have taken all night to get naked." Rosalyn removed the last button and slid the shirt from KC's shoulders. "Falling in the creek sped up the process." Her slim fingers trailed over KC's chilled skin, spreading warmth where they touched. "Mr. Thompson, is it right to assume sharing body warmth is one of the best ways to warm somebody quickly?"
Rosalyn unbuttoned her riding coat and dropped it to the ground. She worked the buttons loose at the waist of her riding skirt and let it slide down her legs, leaving her standing in her blouse and drawers. She planted her fists on her hips and glared. "Are you two going to stand there and freeze to death?"
"No, ma'am." Jake shucked his trousers and long underwear, standing there in nothing but the clothes God gave him, a grin spreading across his face.
"That's more like it." Rosalyn removed her blouse and twisted her arms behind her to reach for the strings of her corset.
Jake came up behind her. "Let me help."
KC stood with her mouth open as Jake let Rosalyn manipulate him like she'd manipulated KC into the water and now out of her clothing. The cool night air made her sluggish and she'd stopped shivering. If she didn't get out of the wet trousers, they'd freeze against her skin. The nights in the mountains sometimes got down below freezing. If she didn't do something soon, she might as well die.
With a sigh, she unbuttoned her trousers and peeled them down over her thighs, kicking them and her boots off together.
Jake whistled when she stood naked in the light from the campfire, his hand growing still over the laces of Rosalyn's corset.
Rosalyn reached behind her, finished loosening the laces and slid the corset down over her hips, pushing the drawers with it. Wearing her fancy black boots and nothing else, she pulled the blanket from the back of her saddle and spread it out beside the fire.
Jake grabbed his and the one from the back of KC's saddle and held them out.
KC shook her head, the lure of the fire too much of a temptation. Rosalyn walked by her and squeezed her naked ass. "Shoulders back. Be proud of your body," she whispered.
With a deep breath, KC pushed her shoulders back and forced her arms to her sides. Her breasts jutted forward, the nipples forming shriveled little peaks, gooseflesh pebbling every inch of her skin.
"Come, Katherine." Jake held the blanket for her as she walked into it and let him wrap its warmth around her curves.
"My name is KC." Her words shook with the force of a mighty shiver snaking down her spine.
"I'm not going to ravish your body." He grinned. "At least not until you're thawed out."
Her lips pressed together. "Have I told you I've been known to throw a two-hundred-pound calf down in twenty seconds?" She lost some of the threat in her voice with the sound of her teeth clattering together.
Jake laughed out loud, the movement rumbling against her back. "I'll be sure not to bawl like a calf."
His laughter made the frown loosen on KC's forehead. The man was almost human when he smiled. Still, she held tightly to her anger at the entire situation, while knowing she had to live up to her end of the ill-fated bargain.
A shiver shook his frame and he hugged her back to his front, fitting the curve of her bottom against his thighs.
Rosalyn took the other blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then she stood behind Jake, enfolding him into the warmth of her dry arms. They huddled together beside the fire, letting the blaze warm them.
As KC's body began to relax, she could feel other parts of Jake's body stiffen. Her breath quickened. How soon would he demand the ultimate payment? Would she be ready? Would it hurt?
Rosalyn's hands moved around Jake and bumped against KC's back, skimming down over her to her bottom. "It works better if you get skin to skin, KC." She tugged at the blanket.
"Don't push me, Rosalyn." KC refused to let go.
"Fine. Have it your way." She handed Jake the blanket and moved around to KC's front, where she forced her to open up and let her slide into the circle of her arms.
With her breasts pressed against Rosalyn's, KC's blood heated infinitely faster. The previous night's lessons came back to her in sordid, blood-stirring detail.
Jake left KC's back, wrapping himself around Rosalyn's naked backside, circling his arms around them both, crushing them closer. "Ah, Katherine, now I can see you. Did you know that your face tells me everything?"
"Wonderful." KC frowned. "What is it telling you now?"
"KC..." Rosalyn warned. "You have a bargain with this man."
"Thank you, Miss Rosalyn." Jake winked at KC.
Her stomach flipped. The man had a way of making her insides stir, and KC didn't want her insides stirred over the man who'd bought and paid for her body like she was a whore.
Not to mention, this entire situation was foreign to KC. Her world was working cattle, tending stock and taking care of a ranch. She'd never stood naked in the woods with another man and woman...total strangers.
The backs of KC's hands rubbed against Jake's furred chest. His muscles were taut, rock solid like she'd imagined when she'd been studying his shoulders on the ride up the mountain.
His gaze captured hers over Rosalyn's shoulder.
Holding the blanket's ends didn't give KC the freedom of movement she'd hoped for. If she tried to feel more of Jake's body, she'd drop an end and the cold air would chill their skin all over.
Rosalyn laughed. "You two are trying too hard to avoid what's obvious."
"And that would be...?" Jake pressed closer, his arms tightening around the two women.
"You're attracted to each other."
"I am not!" KC sputtered. "I'm only living up to my end of the bargain."
Jake's smile dimmed. "That's right. I paid for her. And she was damned expensive."
"Oh, pooh." Rosalyn shook her head. "You two are fooling yourselves. Give in to the feeling and warm your bodies at the same time. Here, let me show you."
"Is she always this bossy?" Jake asked KC.
KC smiled for the first time since she'd left Idaho Springs. "Yes. But she's a fine teacher."
"Damn right. So shut up and follow my lead." Then she ducked out from between them, and with a hand on Jake's back and one on KC's, she shoved them together.
Jake's naked chest bumped against KC's naked breasts, knocking the breath right out of her. Not with the force of the blow, but with the attack on her senses.
She'd never been naked with a man. His rock-solid, angular body was completely different from Rosalyn's curves. Her hands pressed against his chest. Instead of pushing him away, she juggled the ends of the blanket while running her fingers slowly over his skin, studying the different textures, comparing them to Rosalyn's. Where the other woman had soft, smooth mounds with rosy brown nipples, Jake's hard muscles were scattered with crisp hairs, the dark nipples buried in the matting. She had to search to find them, but when she did, they stiffened into tiny little peaks.
"Let me hold that." Rosalyn stepped behind Jake and took his blanket. She flipped it around behind her and pressed her naked body to his back. "There, that ought to get you warm."
"Oh, honey, I'm getting warm, all right." His cock jutted straight forward, nudging against KC's belly.
The decadence of it all made KC's neck and face burn. She glared at Rosalyn.
With his hands free, Jake could do anything he wanted to her and all she could do was stand there holding the ends of the blanket. Exactly what Rosalyn had planned, no doubt.
And he went right along with her plan.
Five Ways 'Til Sunday
Delilah Devlin
Sometimes a man's just gotta call for backup...
Delta Heat, Book 1
Marti Kowalski is all wrong for Officer Jackson Teague---he just won't listen to reason. She didn't finish high school, runs a bar. Has a tattoo and a blue streak in her hair. Yet he still wants to marry her? She can't say she's not tempted, but she's got a bucket list to complete before she ties the knot.
Not just any bucket---more like a fifty-five-gallon drum of sexual wishes so explicit, there's no way one man, even Jackson, can fulfill them all.
When Marti turns him down again, Jackson insists on knowing why. That's when she shows him her list. He takes it, thinks about it---and calls on the only men he can trust: four buddies from his academy graduating class.
Between the five of them, he's sure they can come up with a plan to check off every item on her list in one wild, wicked weekend. That is, if she has the nerve to follow through---and if he can bear to share her.
Warning: Contains five men on a mission to break down the resistance of one determined woman, using everything in their arsenal from BDSM accoutrements to roleplay of non-consensual situations.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Five Ways 'Til Sunday
Copyright © 2011 by Delilah Devlin
ISBN: 978-1-60928-700-9
Edited by Lindsey Faber
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2011

