Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  “Hearing you swallowing what he deposited makes me anxious to do the same thing. Both of you have tight little asses that I plan to use more often. I’m just regretful that you won’t be here and that seems to make it more important to make whatever time we have count.” His body was doing pushups over top of me and then I was kissing him with the remnants of Roscoe still touching my lips.

  He was pounding his hips, driving his body down on top of me and making us both moan for the effort. My cock was moving with each deep and resounding thrust and before long I was at the peak of my hunger for him.

  “I want to see the both of you cum.” Roscoe was about to get his wish, but definitely, more than he bargained for. Timothy took himself away from me, standing in front of Roscoe with me struggling to do the same thing with my ass on fire.

  “If you want it so bad, then you should finish us off.” He grabbed the both of us and took turns making our cocks disappear into his mouth for one stroke each. “I didn’t know what I was asking. Oh god, in your mouth…put it back in your mouth.” His words conveyed the desperation in his eyes and Roscoe barely sealed his lips around it before it was filling him. It continued to fire off with Timothy moaning and then finally collapsing to let me take his place.

  Roscoe grabbed it and forced it between his lips. When we were apart the last couple of days, I felt like there was a cold ice pick between my legs. With this thing out in the open, I was finally able to enjoy each of these two men in their own ways.

  Things were getting out of hand and I was trying too much to hold it back in hopes of a more monumental explosion. I fell to my knees, not able to take it anymore and he followed with his mouth until I could feel it coming. I lost the will to fight. I didn’t how he could take what I had in the corner of my mind and make it a reality.

  “I’m out of time… I’m going to give you what you want.” They both filled my heart up with a static joy and then I was shooting what felt like a gallon into his continuously swallowing throat.

  I fell down in between them and they ran their fingers down over my body, touching my sensitive region and making me slap their hands away without having any luck. They were purposely taking advantage and I don’t think that I would’ve had it any other way.

  “I’ve given this some thought and I’ve decided to stay here in Miami, but not until I finish my year of school. It means you’re both going to have to be patient, but I think that you’ll find something to do when I’m not around. Keep the home fires burning and you never know when I’m going to show up on your doorstep.” We slept like babies and then I returned home to find that my father was not talking to me.

  It wasn’t like I was going to be around much and my mother did promise to work on him in my absence. My mother and my sister’s willingness to accept this was a shock. I shouldn’t have to worry about other people’s perceptions. Nobody had to like it and that included my father who probably believed getting me away from them was going to change my mind. He really didn’t know me and that was his problem. I wanted us to be closer, but he was unable to give me his time. It was possible that he unconsciously knew about my sexual proclivities and couldn’t be around me.

  I waved to them from the car. I knew at my earliest convenience I would be back. They promised to come to visit me. I was going to have to find a place off campus instead of living at home. I had a part time job and I could certainly afford to splurge a little. I couldn’t wait for the day where we would all be together again for more than just a week here and a week there until finally, I got my degree. I would do my research and find a place in Miami to continue my education, but not until after this last year was complete.

  I was finally free to go by the rhythm of my own heart. It was time to let myself be happy and I had this feeling my two lovers were never going to let me take them for granted. They were my life and the very blood running through my veins. I would always come back to where my heart was.

  The Criminals

  An Erotic Gay Outlaw Menage Romance

  I was a sucker, but I loved money.

  Probably not the best combination, but it’d never gotten me into trouble before.

  At least until I met the Ramos brothers, two fiery demons with eyes of cold steel.

  They wanted the best lawyer in town and they were willing to pay for it, plus have my yearly salary.

  It was a losing case. These men had at least fifteen years in front of them.

  They were probably going to die behind bars.

  But like I said, I love money and these men…

  They were like lions circling in, one licking his lips, the other sharpening his claws.

  I was vulnerable with my guard down. I didn’t expect what they had in store for me.

  They knew how to get what they wanted.

  I just never thought they’d actually want me…

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  When I was younger, and my parents first moved to LA, they used to take us on long drives over the coastal highway so we could watch the water crashing against the cliffs. It was all about leisure and experiencing life, but nothing got done. There were four of us living in a small two bedroom with an outdated kitchen and no dishwasher. Our laundry was hung up to dry, and we wore nothing but hand me downs. I hated it. I wanted a model showroom with sleek decorations, tailored clothes and a new computer. Anything less was unacceptable. That's how I live my life.

  I walked into the office, tablet and briefcase in tow. “Morning,” my receptionist Stella, a relic from ancient times was sitting at the computer behind the desk playing solitaire.

  “Morning,” she didn't even look up.

  “Did you get my coffee?”

  “You mean that black sludge you call a drink? I don't know how you can stand that stuff. It's like jet fuel.” She reached over and handed me the cup.

  “Life is about the hustle.” I downed the espresso like a shot of vodka. “If you work hard and never stop, you'll get ahead.”

  “Yeah, but you shouldn't have to drug yourself to do it.”

  “I'm not drugging myself,” I laughed.

  “Who are you kidding, Robert?”

  “I've got work to do,” I laughed and walked back into my office to set my things down. The desk was empty.

  “Did you write out the Ramos brother's file?” I strode back out.

  “Some of the sickest men I've ever dealt with. What is wrong with you? If you had anything close to integrity, you would've turned those boys down.”

  “They're paying half my year's salary,” I snatched the file from her hand. “Besides, if I turned down every case I didn't agree with I wouldn't be one of the top defense lawyers in Los Angeles, now would I?”

  “You know, I used to tell people that they were wrong about defense lawyers, that they're good people trying to help victims of the system. Then I started working for you.”

  “I take issue with that. You and I both know I've helped some good people.”

  “Like who?”

  “Dorris.”

  “Dorris, always Dorris, your crowned jewel, the one woman justified in killing her husband.”

  “He was beating her.”

  “She stabbed him 60 times with a kitchen knife.”

  “She was upset.”

  “Maybe so, but he was dead on the first swing. The rest was just pure sadism.”

  “I'm not arguing with you. I've got work to do.” I walked back towards my office. “And while you're at it, Stella, could you go ahead and go over the summary on last week's trial. I wanna be sure we didn't miss anything in the notes.”

  “Of course,” she went back to her game of solitaire. I cut her slack because nothing went undone, but it still grated on my nerves.

  I took out a water bottle from my cooler and opened the file. Landon Ramos called the office two days ago from jail. Him and his brother had been taken in on felony drug possession and drug trafficking. They were caught with a brick of heroin and taken straig
ht to county.

  There was no way I was going to win the case. All of the evidence was there. They had the heroin, the weapons and more than half a dozen law enforcement officers that witnessed the crime. These men were going to jail, and I wasn't about to look bad on their behalf. So I had Stella call them back and tell them to find another lawyer. When she did, Landon offered her 50 grand on top of my usual fee.

  I'd never been offered that kind of money before. I had to choose between quick profits and my exemplary record. In the end, of course, profit won out, but I was still feeling a little on edge about it.

  I looked over the facts, memorized the necessary information and went over a strategy in my head. Their crimes were enough to put them in prison for life, but maybe if I worked things right I could convince the DA to drop some of the charges and give them a happy retirement. At least then they wouldn't have to die behind bars.

  There was a knock at my door. “Come in.”

  It was Stella. “It's almost time.”

  “Thank you.” I began gathering my things then looked up to see Stella still standing there staring at me. “What?”

  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

  “You're not just worried about the one case. You're worried about the way I'm handling my career in general.”

  “Well somebody should be.”

  “I'm doing a good thing.”

  “Who are you kidding?”

  “I mean it. People change. They deserve a second chance, and I'm the only one fighting to give that to them.”

  “Whatever,” she walked out.

  Chapter 2

  I folded my arms against my chest to stave of the frigid rush of air that rushed out when I walked into the county jail, through the cinder block corridor with its concrete floors stained with the stench of rancid piss and body odor. A guard the size of a gorilla herded me through the first of a series of steel reinforced doors, all of them controlled by the command center at the center of the complex.

  We walked into a front reception area where they had concrete benches and a large black woman sitting behind three inches of bullet proof glass.

  “Sit there.” The guard pointed to the bench while he went to talk to the receptionist. Their conversation, though I couldn't hear it seemed casual and light. It clearly had nothing to do with business. It was infuriating. Everything in county was about the wait. You weren't getting out until every last bit of your patience was gone. It didn't matter whether you were a prisoner or a visitor, you got the same treatment.

  There were two other lawyers waiting with me and a crying mother. She tried to hide her face when I walked in, but after a while she gave up and just started bawling. I rested my head back and sighed. They went through all the names, with at least twenty minutes in between each one then the receptionist ducked close to her microphone. I could feel it coming. She met my eyes, smirked then went back to talking with the guard. When she saw my reaction she laughed then screamed, “Mason!”

  I shot up and walked her way. “Hello.”

  “I need your CR number.”

  “One, four, three...”

  “Hold up.” she was typing each number one at a time like it was her first time using a keyboard. “OK, that was one, three four...”

  “No, one...four...three...six...two,” with each number I had to allow a few seconds for her to find the right key.

  When we were done, I heard the guard come up behind me. “Go through there,” he pointed at a door to my left. I called it the torture chamber. It was a rectangular room with an antiquated set of paint chipped lockers and another concrete bench. “Turn around, legs spread, hands on the wall.”

  I did as I was told and let the guard tear away every scrap of dignity as he ran his hands up my legs, over my crotch, my chest and arms.

  “Take off your belt.”

  “Careful,” I took it off and handed it to him. “That was my mother's.”

  “Shut up and go.” The guard herded me through a long corridor towards the visitation room, where I was asked again to wait, presumably while the other guards compared dick sizes. I tapped my foot the entire time. There were enough cameras that somebody must've been watching, which meant I was probably pissing somebody off.

  When the door buzzed and the guard walked out, I stood up fast and made for the door. They don't like quick movements, it scares them, so I always did everything as fast as I could. It was the rebel inside me.

  The Ramos brothers were both there, staring at me when I walked in. They had bright blue eyes set against mocha colored skin, a chilling combination that, when combined with their soft features, made them look like a pair of murderous fallen angels.

  I sat down and turned around. “What are you doing?” The guard was about to close the door. “You can't be in here.”

  “You don't get to tell me nothing,” the large Simoan barked. “Now get on with your meeting. You have twenty minutes.”

  “What I have is attorney client privilege, and I know it's hard to believe given all the shit you thugs get away with,” the man stepped forward ready to strike, “but the law trumps whatever little game you're trying to play. Now you need to leave. If it makes you feel better, you can wait outside.”

  He got real close, close enough that I could smell the liquor pouring off him. “Careful now.”

  “Out,” I wasn't going to let myself be intimidated by a man with a single digit IQ.

  He turned around with a smirk, walked out and left me inside.

  “Hah,” the brother on the left laughed, “you're gonna get yourself into trouble talking like that.” He must've been Landon. I could tell by his the graffiti tattoo on his neck.

  “I take pictures before I come in in case they try to rough me up. It's standard practice.”

  “Nice,” the other brother, Carter said. It was almost impossible to tell them apart. They both had the same big lips, high cheekbones and defined muscles. But there were subtle differences. Carter's nose was smaller and Landon's black hair was completely buzzed off. He was rougher, with a tight edge that made me a little uncomfortable. I preferred Carter's street style, the way he seemed to flow rather than move.

  What really started to bother me was the way they looked at me, how they seemed to be summing me up.

  I turned away, brought out my file and my phone to record things. “Now,” I leaned in, “I don't give a shit about whether you're innocent or guilty. That's not how this works. I just need you to play by my rules and do exactly what I say if you want to get out of here.”

  They looked at one another, shrugged then Landon said, “You don't snitch, do you? You can't. It's part of your client attorney bullshit, huh?”

  “That's right. I can't just go around divulging information. It's illegal and it's bad for business.”

  Carter nodded with a smile. “You gonna get us out?” He was dangerous. I could see it, like he was drinking me in, deciding what he was going to do. I glanced down to see goosebumps running up my arm.

  “I don't know. I need you to tell me what happened first, and I'm going to have to record it for my records.”

  “Who sees that shit?” Landon was the more assertive of the two. He wasn't as much of a strategist as his brother.

  “Just me and my legal assistant, Stella. She's the one you talked to before.”

  “A'ight,” Carter began. “It's cool. We'll talk.”

  “So what happened?”

  Landon began. “We found this job online, right. We didn't know the guy. He was some military type, but he seemed cool. He gave us some black and wanted us to bring it over to his friends across town. We told him no.”

  “We figured he'd up the price.”

  “Yeah,” Landon had this deep drawl that he drew out just long enough to put a smile on my face, “so he whipped out a grip of cash, like double, and we said fuck it, let's roll.”

  “But they were waiting for us when we got down there. Him and half the block just ran up with guns sayin
g they were pigs.”

  I threw up my hands. “You guys are screwed. You know that, right?”

  “Nah,” Carter shook his head, “that's why you're here.” His eyes were sharp like cold steel daggers dragging up my chest and over my neck until they met mine. “You're gonna get us out of here.”

  Landon nodded his head. He was sheer brute force where as his brother was a silent knife coming up behind me. I'd met a lot of sociopaths in my life, men that would slit their mothers throat for a gram of meth, but I'd never met men like these. Just being in the same room with them scared me and excited me all at once.

  “Imma do what I can, but I can't promise anything. Now tell me, honestly, are you willing to still pay me, even if it means you could lose the case?”

  They turned to one another, and there was a sort of silent exchange between them. Then, after a moment, they looked back at me. “We'll do it.” They both said at once.

  Chapter 3

  More often than not, judges consider themselves to be pillars of righteousness, working their entire lives to bring order to a chaotic world, but sometimes you come up against a pragmatist. These are the guys that can see the justice system for what it is, a chaotic mess of nonsensical rules voted on by an ignorant population that rarely considers the full scope of what that law means to the rest of society.

  Judge Miller was not a pragmatist. She was a pompous ball of raw conceit and arrogance with a frizzy pile of blond hair and bright pink lipstick to match her ridiculous eye shadow. I'd come up against this woman plenty of times and I knew her weakness.

  She was impatient and it made her sloppy. So I brought in a stack of papers a foot high and went over every sheet until she could barely stand it. Then I started rattling things off, faster and faster, praying that I could slip it by. By the time I got to the Ramos brothers she looked like she was ready to fall asleep. It worked.