Wildly Inappropriate

by Eden Connor

  "Either one of you pull your dicks out to measure and you'll be eating my fist," Dan snapped at his brothers.

  "I think I'd rather eat your fist than what I'm thinking you been eating. We gotta get you a woman and fast." Eric turned the dildo toward Dan, sliding it through his fist rapidly.

  Before Dan could leap from his chair to punch E, Colton spoke up. "I get why you're into black chicks, Dan. If you're an ass man, makes sense to go to after the finest. But a black cock?" Colton snickered. "Yours won't do? I'm pretty sure they sell black condoms, dude, if color matters."

  Dan gaped momentarily at his youngest brother, but this was not the conversation he wanted to have. For all he knew, Cynda could be listening to every word. He'd left her curled up on the couch in his office, sound asleep after some intense play. After all, she'd been the one to ask if he'd pick more of the clingstone peaches with red flesh.

  "Look, did you check out the hotel or not? I'd bet my last dollar you ate at Colton's, so you had dessert already," Dan said disgustedly to Eric. To his relief, E put the dildo down in favor of the cobbler, but Dan couldn't decide whether leaving it on the table would draw less attention than putting it back in the drawer. So he just sat there, trying not to look at it.

  "We didn't have cobbler," Colton said. "Lila's home, but I got take-out. I don't want her on her feet. She needs to rest."

  "So where'd this come from?" Eric demanded. "It tastes just like the one Lila makes from that recipe you gave her, Dan."

  Fuck. Just… fuck. This was getting worse by the minute. "Bathtubs," Dan barked. Does it matter if my brothers know about Cynda? "Someone's staying with me at the moment. She made the cobbler."

  Eric cocked a brow at Dan. "If she's hot and she lets you use that dildo on her, she can drop by my place too." Eric smirked. "I'm an ass man myself."

  Colton snorted. "And a breast man, and a leg man. In fact, sometimes I wonder why you're not a tree man. Some trees have holes and they're every bit as smart as the chicks you hang out with."

  Eric dropped the spoon into the bowl and grabbed the dildo, shoving it into Colton's face again. An arm-wrestling match broke out. Dan silently pulled for Colton to win.

  "Hel-looo, hot stuff," Eric said suddenly, allowing Colton to slam his arm against the table. "Darlin', what's your name?"

  Cynda leaned against the bar and crossed her arms over her chest. She wore only his shirt. To his extreme relief, she smiled. "Daniel, why are you letting your brothers play with my toy? Can't they afford their own?"

  She dropped her arms and strolled across the kitchen to stand beside his chair. He put his arm around her waist, glaring at Eric.

  "The idiot needing a manual tonsillectomy is Eric, and the smart one is Colton. Guys, this is Cynda Avery."

  She held out her hand, palm up, raising her brows while staring at Eric. Eric silently laid the dildo in her hand. "No more of my cobbler for you," she said sweetly, picking up the bowl. "I should make you spit out what you already ate."

  Colton held his hand up, palm turned toward Dan. "Well done, my brother. Lila's gonna love her."

  Dan felt like an idiot, but he high-fived Colton while still glaring at Eric.

  "Why's Daniel yelling about bathtubs?" Cynda asked, pulling out the chair beside Dan, but speaking to Colton, he thought.

  "My girl bought six like the one upstairs, the old-fashioned kind up on legs. They're in an old hotel downtown and we have to move them before they blow up the building. Nice to meet you, Cynda," Colton replied, extending his hand.

  * * * *

  She shook the proffered hand. Curiosity about Daniel's brothers had brought her in here, but she wished she'd stayed in the office. Daniel didn't seem too pleased to see her, but now that she'd stepped into the room, she didn't see a way to back out.

  "Either you guys run a bed and breakfast, or she plans to resell them."

  "She has a small antiques business," Colton agreed. "But it seems to me it gets bigger every day."

  "Oh, antiques." Cynda grinned. "A word white folks use that makes being poor seem cool."

  Eric's shoulders shook with laughter. His somewhat lighter hair was shorter than Colton's, but longer than Daniel's, brushing his shoulders. Not a military cut in the bunch, she noted. With all three men looking at her, she saw all had the same unique bluish-green eyes.

  "Might be fun to watch Lila get some competition in the smart-ass department." Eric tipped his chair against the wall. "Okay, so I checked out the Daniel Morgan Hotel. The demolition crew has punched holes in the exterior walls, right at the central corridor on each floor. The hotel used to use a rooftop water reservoir, and the pipe's heavy gauge iron. I rigged a block and tackle to the pipe, so all we have to do is cut the bolts, and slide the tubs onto a dolly and roll them to those openings. Then, we'll just lower 'em right into our trucks." He grinned, looking at Colton. "Promise me you'll tell Lila we worked liked dogs, okay? I blew my food budget for the next month on a plasma cutting torch. It'll go through those bolts like a hot knife through butter. Seriously, the whole job might take an hour, two at the most. Worst part will be unloading 'em into her shop. I estimate they'll weigh about four hundred pounds apiece." His eyebrows went up and down. "Those tubs were built for three. I might buy one from her."

  "I always wanted to see the inside of that hotel," Cynda spoke up, stung by Eric's dismissal. "My grandfather was a brick mason. He did some repairs there once. He said the mosaic floor in the lobby was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on." She knew she was pushing Daniel by asking to go along, but she didn't care. Eric was making her feel invisible.

  "It must be," Colton replied, sounding disgusted. "Lila asked if there was some way to cut it out in pieces." He gave Cynda an appraising gaze. "I don't think any force on earth could stop her from going with us. Maybe you can keep her company."

  Daniel laughed, patting her thigh under the table. "And by 'keeping her company', he means 'stop her from trying to supervise'. You might need to practice your knots." He winked. Relief flooded her and her racing pulse slowed. He was saying he'd take her, wasn't he? To a work site, sure, but she liked being seen with Daniel. People seemed to see her when she was with him. She'd been thinking about that all day, but Eric seemed the exception.

  "Dude, what did I tell you coming in the door?" Eric demanded. "Seriously, do it. Go home right now and do it."

  Colton snorted. "E, your knuckles need shaving. Here's a clue, brother. There's a difference between fucking a woman and loving her." He gave Cynda a guilty look. "Sorry for the language, ma'am."

  "Love's for suckers," Eric retorted, getting to his feet. "I'll let you two get back to your toys. Later, guys." He raised his chin slightly in her direction. "Cynda."

  From his seat at the head of the table, Daniel turned. He started to rise, but Colton spoke up. "D, you know there's a reason we call him Special Ed." Colton sighed. "I'm already regretting letting him take Jonah to the beach. The kid came back talking about women in such a way that Lila has him confined to his room, matching his socks. In the dark." Colton's eyes grew large. "And, she confiscated his bat. I should go make sure she hasn't smacked him around like a piñata." He looked at Cynda. "I'm kidding, of course. She adores that kid." His smile turned to a grin. "But I might turn her loose on Eric."

  "She needs any backup, you call me." Daniel's voice sounded like crunching gravel. "I've never swung a bat in my life, but I might start."

  "Lila needing backup?" Colton choked out the words through his laughter. "Does a bear need a fur jacket?" He wiped his eyes. "Thanks, Dan. I really needed a laugh." He wiped his eyes a second time, and Cynda suddenly suspected those tears weren't due to amusement. "By the way, Lila asked me tonight if I'd go with her to the doctor on Monday." His choked tone proved her right. He stood suddenly, knocking over the chair, and strode out the back door without saying goodbye.

  Dan took Cynda's hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. "He's pretty sure Lila has cancer." Heaving a sig
h, he added, "No promises, Cynda, but I'm ready to hear the offer. And we do call Eric Special Ed. Not because he's adorable, either."

  She shook her head, suddenly fearing she'd mess this up. She needed to talk to King. "Not before you tell me why you've had peach pits warming in the oven for hours."

  He stood, holding out his hand. She put her hand into his and allowed him to tug her to her feet. His hands went to her hips and she suppressed a grin. Eric wasn't the only man in this family with caveman tendencies. Daniel seemed to like proving to her he was bigger and stronger. Sitting her on the end of the bar, he ordered her to take off his shirt before turning to open another drawer. A shiver whispered through her when she saw the big roll of silver tape. Silently, he tore off a long strip, twisting it into a rope.

  "Hold out your wrists."

  She thought she might be wetting the marble under her as she held out her hands, wrists pressed together. "Yes, Daniel."

  When he had the tape fastened around her wrists, he ordered her to lie back. She could barely breathe when he stretched her arms above her head, but craned her neck to watch him wrap the tape around the curving faucet of the small sink in the opposite end of the bar. With her arms restrained, her folds were already swelling in anticipation. She watched carefully while he opened the door to the smaller oven and lifted out the dish. He didn't use a mitt, and she knew the temperature had been set very low. Setting the bowl beside her, he ripped off a short piece of duct tape before picking up one of the four cleaned peach pits. Then, to her shock, he covered her eyes with a dishtowel. She heard a ripping noise that had to be the tape and felt him press the tape across the towel. Her pulse tripled in rate.

  "Pick a safe word. A word you'll remember to say if this gets too extreme and you want to stop. One you don't say every day. Tell me your word, Cynda."

  She didn't have to think, but she could barely get the word out. "Orchard."

  Her cry was automatic when he set the heated stone on her nipple. He did the same to the other, then she felt something she guessed to be another folded towel laid across her breasts.

  "Cynda." He sounded reproving. "These aren't any hotter than the stones they use in spas to help your muscles relax. But use your safe word if you need me to stop, otherwise, I won't."

  It didn't hurt. The feeling was intense, but not in the sense of pain. The heat seemed to sink into her. "Don't stop."

  She panted, trying to learn her way around the new sensation. Wondering what he had planned for the other two stones was making her crazy.

  There was nothing in her darkness except those two points of heat.

  "Open your legs for me."

  She remembered to say the words she knew he wanted. "Yes, Daniel." She slid her thighs apart, barely able to hear above the hard rhythm of her blood. How could she be so wet without a touch? The skin on his fingers felt rough as he pushed them into her cleft. Her spine arched involuntarily when she felt the searing heat of a peach stone pressed against her pucker. Surely he didn't mean to—

  "Squeeze. Don't let that drop."

  She tightened the muscles of her cheeks as hard as she could and whimpered when she felt him push the last searing stone just inside her pussy. Shoving his large hands under her cheeks, he lifted her bottom into the air. His breath whispered across her mound. Chills marched across her stomach and along the tender skin inside her thighs, colliding with the heat boring into her core.

  "If you let any of those fall, I stop," he informed her before beginning to ruthlessly lash her clit with his tongue.

  Oh, she had to hold on. She never wanted this to stop.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cynda looked from Daniel to King. The dark suit the loan shark wore seemed ridiculous in this heat. Sweat gleamed on his bald head and beaded his upper lip and he kept tugging at his collar. Why would King be nervous?

  "So, all you want is this section here?" Dan asked, pointing to the little line-drawn map he'd gotten out of a pigeonhole in his desk. "Why that piece of land, if I may ask?"

  King and the mounted bass above Daniel's desk shared the same expression. "My aunt lives close by. She's gettin' on in years, and I been thinkin' I'd build a place near her so I can check on her more often. She never had no kids, you see, and her husband done died."

  Daniel stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He laced his fingers together on top of his head, in the manner Cynda had come to regard as his thinking pose. "Oh really? Who's your aunt?"

  "Miz Georgia Mason. She used to be friends with your momma, Miz Cammie."

  Dan smiled. "She sure was. They were always together when they had the time. Georgia's swatted my ass more than once, I can tell you. How's she doing? Been a while since she needed service on her Ford."

  King seemed to relax. "Well, she got arthritis real bad, you know."

  It would help King's cause that Daniel knew and seemed to like his relative. That was how things got done around here. She might have actually saved Grams' house. Relief flooded her and Cynda soon tuned out their typical southern pleasantries in favor of musing on the idea that Daniel's mother's best friend was black.

  Georgia. Cammie's last diary entry mentioned going to talk to Georgia. With a start, she realized she'd forgotten to mention those diaries. She hoped he already knew about them, but the way he talked about his mother made her suspect he didn't. Why would he have left them concealed? For that matter, why would Cammie have hidden them?

  She decided Cammie might've taken a bit of pleasure in hiding her innermost thoughts from Rafe using his own desk. If the father was anything like his oldest son, keeping a secret would be hard, she could bet. If Daniel wanted, he could coax anything from her, Cynda figured. He watched her so intently at times it seemed he could read her mind.

  "And what's your offer?"

  "Goin' rate 'round here seems to be about seven thousand an acre."

  "And you're only interested in these five acres?" Though his forefinger tapped the map, Daniel wasn't looking at King, Cynda realized with a start. It felt like he was staring a hole through her.

  "Yes, sir. Those five be plenty for my needs. From the creek to that little ravine, the part that backs up to John Carpenter's fields." He gave Dan a grin, but shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, his fingers digging into his shirt collar like it was lined with fire ants. "Y'all done let the bridge start to rot. I'll shore it up, so I can walk to Georgia's like your momma used to do. Gon' build a real small house. You'll never know I'm here. Been lookin' at a plan for one of them tiny houses like they had in the Sunday paper not long ago."

  Daniel looked away from Cynda. Even though she'd kept her attention on the bastard that had taken advantage of her grams, thinking he sure sounded different back in his office talking down to her than he did speaking to Daniel, she felt his gaze leave her. She darted a glance at him.

  Daniel unlaced his hands and stood. "I need to talk this over with my brothers, of course. I'll call you in a few days. C'mon Cynda, let's walk your client to the door."

  When they stepped out of the office and started down the hall, Cynda saw Daisy standing at the child gate. To her dismay, the setter began barking loudly.

  King stopped, causing Cynda to almost run into him. "She don't bite," she assured King.

  "Sure she does," Daniel disagreed. "If a dog has teeth, it'll bite under the right circumstances."

  To Cynda's surprise, he didn't order the dog to stop barking. "I'll check on her," Cynda offered, stopping outside the laundry room. Daisy didn't settle down, continuing to bark after Cynda stepped over the baby gate. Her bowls were brimming with food and water. Some dogs, it seemed to her, took an instant dislike to black people, but Cynda felt they cued off their owners, somehow. Yet that didn't make sense. Daisy had never barked at her. Perhaps she was upset over the dark form of King in his black suit, seen through her limited vision? She tried to soothe the dog, listening to Daniel and King say their goodbyes in between the loud barks. She rubbed the old setter's head and patted
her sides, but Daisy's muscles felt taut beneath her silky coat. Jacques began wiggling around in the blankets inside the box blindly, searching for his mother.

  "Daisy, quiet!" she looked up to see Daniel in the archway. The dog instantly stopped barking.

  "Cynda, come here." He'd used the same tone on the dog. Swallowing her sudden fear, Cynda stepped over the gate. "Take off the dress. Then stand right in front of that hall tree until I get back."

  He walked past her, disappearing into the bedroom. She reached behind her neck to undo the zipper and stepped obediently out of the garment, studying the hall tree. It was at least eight feet tall and the finish on the heavily striped oak had darkened with age. The brass hooks were dulled as well, but she'd wiped the cobwebs from the piece. Carefully, she hung the dress on the closest hook. A wide seat spanning the bottom was really a top that lifted on hinges, concealing a space below. She'd definitely peeked into that, disappointed to find only telephone books going back decades.

  When he reappeared, he was holding several belts, the kind made of webbing with dual rows of grommets along the length. Laying them casually across his shoulder, he asked her to face the mirror. "Up you go." His huge hands went around her waist, lifting her to stand on the seat.

  "Will this hold me?" she asked, concerned her weight might make the piece topple or crack the seat.

  "It held my mother the day I saw my father spank her ass for lyin' to him," Daniel replied. His tone was conversational, but his words froze her heart in her chest. "Rafe removed two hooks and drilled behind them. Bolted this piece to the wall. Cammie watched him do it, crying the entire time. Grab those hooks at the top, Cynda. Get a comfortable grip, we might be here a while."

  The apple hadn't fallen far from the tree in the creative torture category, Cynda felt. The plan was diabolical. She had to rise onto her toes to reach the hooks he'd indicated. Her reflection stared back at her from the big beveled mirror as she stretched to curl her fingers around two of the top hooks. The piece was so wide her arms barely spanned it. A third pair of hooks was mounted lower, about halfway down the outer columns that framed the hall tree. That set must be the ones Rafe drilled behind, those had ornamental plates. He fastened one of the belts around her wrist, looping it over the top of the hooks. He pulled it tight, but not uncomfortably so, yet Cynda knew she'd never be able to work her hands free. She feared her heart might somehow crack the mirror because it slammed so heavily against her ribs when he secured her other hand.