Spirits Shared (16 page)

Clay groaned and doubled over. "Oh yeah,
like that," he panted. "But take me deeper. Fuck. Take me
deeper."

Clay's neediness was the ultimate threat to
Tekoa's control. He usually wasn't the one with his mouth around a
cock, but with Clay he could get used to doing this. He liked Clay
helpless. Loved the way he cursed and bucked—and came, filling his
mouth with salty masculinity.

Tekoa stood, redirecting the shower spray so
it struck Clay.

Clay grunted but didn't open his eyes.
Stepping into Clay, his cock a steel ridge against Clay's stomach,
he said, "Jessica I'd carry into the other room to fuck. You I
won't. So either turn around and put your hands on the wall or give
me some indication that you can make it out of the bathroom."

Clay laughed. His eyes opened. "Man, you're
a hard case."

Tekoa thrust his cock against Clay's abs.
"Tell me about it."

Clay grinned and turned off the water. "Fair
is fair. Bed?"

Thunder boomed, loud enough to vibrate the
walls. Rain pounded against the roof in a fury that had Tekoa's
spirit wanting to soar.

It was a warning that he heeded. "The rug in
front of the fireplace."

* * * * *

Jessica eyed the pouring rain. It didn't
look as though it was going to stop anytime soon.

She glanced at the reusable bags in the
grocery cart. There were seven of them, three looped over each arm
and she could hold the seventh. As long as she had the key out she
could probably get in the truck before her jeans were totally
soaked.

"No time like the present," she muttered,
pulling the hood of her jacket up and retrieving the truck key from
her pocket before lifting the bags and settling them into
place.

Even in the miserable weather, the grocery
store she'd found a short distance from the highway had quite a
number of shoppers—enough so she wasn't parked close. She braced
herself for the sting of cold water against her face and left the
protective overhang.

A blast of wind whipped the hood back. A
jagged bolt of lightning was followed by a crash of thunder.

She was more than ready to get back to the
cabin and make some hot chocolate with marshmallows. She was more
than ready to snuggle with Tekoa and Clay.

Jessica laughed despite the frigid water
soaking her hair. The guys better have something left for her—two
large, hot somethings that could warm her from the inside out.

She darted toward the truck. It was
impossible to avoid the puddles. Water splashed on her jeans and
soaked into her tennis shoes and socks.

Wet hair and rain in her eyes left her
struggling to insert the key and unlock the truck. Just as she
managed to open the door, water sprayed across the back of her legs
as a silver car pulled in next to her. She didn't bother turning to
glare.

She stepped onto the running board so she
could lean in and put the dripping grocery bags onto the
passenger-side floor. A door opened and shut behind her. A rough
shove sent her to the passenger side of the truck's bench seat.

Survival instinct kicked in. She grabbed for
the door handle but a vicious hand fisted her hair and yanked. A
gun barrel struck her across the face and then was pressed against
her temple.

"One scream, one word, bitch, and you die
right here, right now."

Adrenaline poured into her system. Her heart
clawed up her throat but even if she'd been able to scream, she
didn't think a shout for help would be heard over the pounding
rain.

She hadn't seen a picture but she knew she
was looking at the escaped convict. His close-cropped hair and neck
full of tattoos added to the savagery and malice gleaming in his
eyes.

He pulled the driver-side door shut. "Give
me the keys."

She'd dropped them on the floor when he
shoved her. She picked them up, hand clenching, the fleeting
fantasy of lunging, stabbing him in the eye, giving way to
self-preservation.

She had too much to live for to do something
foolish. Clay, Tekoa, their new life together. If she survived
this, she wouldn't care if people looked at her and knew she loved
and lived with two men.

She couldn't die now. Not now.

She handed him the keys. He switched the gun
into his left hand long enough to fire the truck's engine.

Pulling from the parking lot, his attention
flicked to the police radio on the dash. He smiled. "Well, well,
well. Groceries, a cunt, and an inside track to what the cops are
doing. Life just got real good."

Tears welled and she tried to blink them
away, drew on the same strength she'd found when Clay was hurt.
She'd been scared then, but she'd done what needed to be done.
She'd do what needed to be done here too.

He wouldn't kill her right away. Nausea rose
and she swallowed it down. He'd rape her first. That's what he'd
gone to prison for—assault, rape, murder.

He stroked her thigh with the gun barrel,
laughed when she jerked away. Another swell of nausea rose with the
look in his eyes. Her fear excited him.

"Turn on the scanner, bitch."

She couldn't suppress the shaking in her arm
as she reached out and pressed the
on
button. There was a
burst of static then nothing.

His smile widened. He traced the trail of
tears with the gun muzzle, the rain coming down so hard that no one
would be able to see what was happening in the truck.

"Do what I say and you might even enjoy what
I've got planned for you. Cross me and I'll hurt you real bad
before we're done."

Jessica choked back a sob of terror. She
fought desperately to keep herself under control. She accepted the
fear but refused to be paralyzed by it. When the chance to escape
came, she'd take it.

The gun retreated from her face though he
kept it pointed at her. "You don't look like a cop. But this is a
cop radio. So I'm thinking that makes you a cop's pussy. Is that
right, you some dickhead cop's piece of ass?"

When she didn't immediately answer, he
whipped the gun across her cheek sending bone crunching pain
through her face.

"You belong to a cop?"

"Yes," she said on a sob.

He licked his lips. "Open the jacket. Real
slow and real careful. If I have to shoot I won't kill you with the
first bullet. As long as you're breathing and I've got a hole to
fuck, I don't care whether you're bleeding or screaming."

Jessica's hands shook as she unzipped the
jacket. His hand left the steering wheel long enough to unzip his
pants and he shifted in his seat.

His cock sprang free. "Unbutton the shirt,
bitch."

She couldn't prevent a whimper. She closed
her eyes and he struck her in the ribs with the gun, sending a
sharp crack of pain through her side.

"Open your eyes, bitch. You think because
some cop shoves his dick into you that you're too good for my
dick?"

Jessica opened her eyes. He struck her
breast and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. "Answer me. You
too good to have my dick shoved into your cunt?"

A surge of nausea threatened to erupt with
her tortured, "No."

"Now unbutton the fucking shirt and show me
your tits."

Numb fingers fumbled with the buttons. She
had to escape.

Slowly she edged into a half-sitting,
half-leaning position. The truck was an old, stripped down model
without power locks.

They merged onto the main road. If there
were other cars they were hidden by sheets of water.

The gun barrel slammed into her ribs again.
"Hurry the fuck up. I want to see some tits then you're going to
crawl over here and suck my dick."

A part of her mind tried to distance itself
from what was happening. Staying alive was the important thing.
Whatever she had to do to stay alive, they'd deal with the fallout
later.

She got the last button undone but couldn't
make herself spread the shirt and expose herself to him. If she
could unlock the door and get out of the truck…

He was driving fast but there was a lot of
water on the road. It might cushion her landing.

There were ditches on either side of the
road, and woods beyond. If she could just get out of the truck…

The radio crackled to life. Jessica tried to
position herself to unlock the door while he was distracted.

A voice announced they'd found the stolen
silver Lincoln Continental abandoned in the grocery store parking
lot and were going through the video feed.

The convict cursed. He pounded the steering
wheel with a fist and swung the gun so it glanced across Jessica's
breasts with a painful sting. "This is your fault, bitch. Your
fucking cop probably can't trust you to go to the grocery store
alone. Whores. You're all fucking whores that can't be trusted. The
only thing you're good for are your pussies."

She cowered against the door and let him see
her fear, hoping that the sight of it would keep him from noticing
the subtle shifts in her position as she prepared to unlock the
door and run for her life.

He slammed on the brakes and sent her
crashing into the dashboard. Then he backed up and turned onto a
narrow road.

Several feet in there was a sign.
Private. No Trespassing. Hunt Club Members Only
.

The graveled road became a dirt road as it
sloped upward. There were thick woods on either side but he didn't
take his eyes off her as they traveled.

Time was running out.

Do something. Do something,
her heart
double-tapped.

They rounded a corner and there was a cabin
ahead of them. It was dark, abandoned for the winter.

He'd rape her repeatedly there. He'd kill
her if cornered or kill her before he fled.

She couldn't let him get her inside the
cabin.

Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed overhead
with a violence that seemed to shake the ground.

Now!
The command screamed through her
like a howling wind. She reacted impulsively, instinctively, the
scene rehearsed in her mind so there was no wild scrabbling to
unlock and open the door.

* * * * *

Clay would have preferred the bed but
somehow the rug in front of the fireplace was fitting. His cock
stirred as he remembered coming out of the concussion and seeing
Tekoa for the first time. The guy was still a wet-dream waiting to
happen.

Tekoa reached for the lubricant and he
couldn't take his eyes off Tekoa's cock. Christ. Instant boner.

What exactly was in the cup Tekoa had given
him the night before? Not that he was complaining. And not that he
couldn't fuck like a rabbit on his own, but this—including how many
times he'd come taking Jess last night, and how many times Tekoa
must have come since then—was beyond his experience.

Again, not that he was complaining.

He stretched, his dick bobbing and licking
over his abs as Tekoa coated himself with the lube. Grinning he
said, "What, no foreplay?"

"Roll over," Tekoa bit out, though Clay
could hear the amusement in his voice.

He rolled to his hands and knees. And almost
instantly Tekoa's hand locked around his dick, turning the thing
into a lightning rod.

"Okay, this works as foreplay."

Lubricated fingers circled the pucker of his
ass and heat spiked into his cock. He spread his thighs. If he had
to beg, he would.

Tekoa's fingers pressed in and Clay's breath
caught. He had a bad feeling the only thing that was going to keep
him from coming before Tekoa's cock was inside him was Tekoa's hand
gripping his dick.

Clay's hips bucked and his cock leaked.
Tekoa's outer thighs touched the insides of his and he went down
onto his elbows.

Tekoa's fingers were replaced by his cock.
Clay moaned and pushed backward.

It'd been so long. Years since he'd been
fucked by another man.

Thunder sounded above the cabin or in his
own head. He couldn't be sure it wasn't his own heartbeat.

He was burning up, from the fire in the fire
place, from Tekoa's cock stretching him, forging deeper and deeper
into his ass, from Tekoa's hand on his dick.

Jesus. The only thing on par with this was
being with Jess.

Sweat sheened his skin. His fingertips dug
into the rug and when Tekoa got all the way in and stopped, Clay
was heartbeats away from begging in the same way he liked to make
Jess beg.

A stroke to his cock, the fondling of the
wet tip and a sound too close to a whimper escaped. He locked his
jaw. Begging he could do but whimpering—

Tekoa thrust and Clay didn't care what
sounds came out of his mouth. It felt good, better than good.

He rocked backward, his heartbeat sounding
more and more like a drum, sounding more and more like what he'd
heard before coming out of the concussion.

He had the fleeting worry that when he came,
he'd pass out. But he couldn't make it matter, not with Tekoa
pounding into him, not when his balls were pulling up harder and
tighter, not with the pleasure building, building—exploding with
hot jets of semen that whited out his vision then tuned it
black.

There was a wrenching sensation followed by
gray, cold nothingness and the return of awareness.

I had a fucking heart attack and died
during sex
, he thought, the gray nothingness blurring at the
edges of his vision and Tekoa's voice screaming in his mind.
Stay with me!

He latched onto the voice. No way was he
leaving now, not with so much to live for.

Stay with me
! Tekoa said and immense
energy rippled through Clay. Power gathered and rolled through a
body that was now huge and brightly feathered, the wings
outstretched, riding the thermals like a Thunderbird.

Talons landed on his back, dug in roughly.
And Clay moved his arms in an effort to escape the sharp pain, only
it was a pair of wings that cut through the air in a boom of
thunder.