Five Ways 'Til Sunday (10 page)

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.
”

Chapter Nine

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.