by Jayne Rylon
Dedication
In memory of the horrendously ugly green Chevy Nova my cousin Kris really did drown in an irrigation ditch during a flood, and all the fun times we had jamming the four ELKK club members onto the front bench seat for rides through the onion fields in our tiny New York hometown before that fateful day.
Chapter One
“Five hundred channels and there isn’t shit on TV.” Kaige Davis tossed the remote onto the leather sectional beside him. By early afternoon the Hot Rods’ lazy Sunday had gotten too relaxed for his liking. Sitting on his ass this long at one stretch drove him beyond chilled out straight to Antsy Town. Maybe he’d see who else wanted to shoot some hoops or sketch designs for the skatepark they planned to install at the youth center.
Anything to get rid of this nervous energy.
“I’ll take Breaking Bad reruns over having to sit through wedding junk any day.” Holden scratched his chest beneath his vintage, if a little worn, Six Pak T-shirt. It was his favorite next to his faded Hooker Headers polo. None of them had bothered to change out of the clothes they’d slept in. “Sally keeps saying she wants something simple. If that’s the case, what the hell do they need a planner for?”
“Pretty sure most people take longer than two months to organize their big day.” Carver snorted. “They’ve got to get a cake, rent a tent and chairs and shit for the lawn, find someone really open-minded to officiate since the three of them can’t formally get hitched. Then there’s music. Plus, Sally needs a dress and we’re probably going to have to wear tuxes. Or suits, at least.”
“Don’t fucking remind me,” Bryce snarled. The man hated anything to do with pomp. He acted like he had a lethal allergy to formality.
“While we’re waiting for them to come home, we could snag that new first-person shooter Alanso’s been talking about. Maybe some pizzas too.” Even Roman didn’t seem excited by the idea, despite his legendary love for violent videogames. If Kaige didn’t know better, he’d assume the guy had been some kind of commando—precise, cold and vicious when necessary. Both in their cartoon battles and in life. “If we practice, we could shrink wrap it downstairs before he gets home, act like we waited for him, then crush him and pretend he just sucks at it.”
That would be kinda funny considering how Al, the douchecanoe, always wiped the floor with them. None of the five Hot Rods left in their shared apartment budged from the couch to instigate the prank, though.
They’d all busted ass lately, leaving them pretty zombified. Business had freaking exploded. Rave reviews spread by word of mouth at this season’s car shows, seducing new clients by the truckload. At the same time, Eli, Alanso and Sally were understandably distracted. Interested in finding out what was under each other’s hoods more than completing their projects in the shop.
How many times a day could they get it on with each other?
They had to have set a world record sometime in the past two months.
The combination of more to do with fewer helping hands had meant long hours for Kaige and the other unattached guys. Not that they minded. They loved what they did for a living—restoring badass classic cars—and no one could be happier for their googly-eyed friends. But lately they hadn’t arranged any of their usual outings to blow off steam. Fishing trips, bar hopping and flaunting their restomod babies on long drives through curvy country roads had gotten slashed from their communal to-do list.
Especially since having fun at home in the evenings had sapped the last of their energy. Because unlike some couples, Eli, Alanso and Sally were into sharing.
Kaige had discovered he was too. The high he got from bonding even tighter with his friends blew him away. As addictive as crack, or maybe more, the passion they shared—not just for Hot Rods, but also for each other—never got old.
He might have assumed their wild sexathons would have burned out by now, lost some of the edge of those first taboo gatherings. Instead, it seemed the more comfortable they became, the better sexy stuff was between them. And no one was turning down another helping of their unique loving. At least they hadn’t yet.
As if he could read Kaige’s mind, or maybe he spotted the chubby starting to tent Super Nova’s sweats, Roman spoke up.
“You know, there’s one thing that never gets boring around here.” He shifted his junk. “Too bad Cobra’s going to be tasting cake for who knows how much longer. Could be the whole damn day if we’re unlucky.”
“Maybe this would be a good time for you to pony up on our bet, loser.” Kaige rubbed his half-hard cock, which perked instantly at the prospect of a warm mouth massaging its growing length.
Damn, now that scheme had some merit.
Sure, the seven misfit mechanics and their one lone female grease monkey had been getting it on together pretty regularly since Eli and Alanso had staked their lifelong claim on Mustang Sally. Problem was, they’d been kind of stuck in neutral. Sally made it easy for them to drop their guard and justify the group action as some kind of glorified gangbang with her at the center of their attention.
Kaige didn’t mind admitting, at least to himself, that the intense demonstrations also reaffirmed the connection between the guys who’d become closer than brothers during the dark years of their adolescence. They’d found another way to commit to each other after nearly a decade of building a brighter future together.
All of them had waltzed into the youth center, originally run by Eli’s mom, as teenagers. Chance had brought them together. Fate, maybe. Because they’d been able to help Eli puzzle together the jagged pieces of his own shattered life after his mother succumbed to an untimely illness. Following her death, Eli’s dad—Tom—had taken over a big role as a mentor and leader in the community.
As if they were strays, he’d collected a bunch of the kids who needed homes and who fit into their motley pseudo-family until his heart brimmed with enough affection to mask his own staggering pain at the loss of his soul mate. Through the years, they’d helped each other survive some serious gloom, since they all could relate to the individual demons haunting them. Alanso’s fear of abandonment. Eli’s phobia of losing loved ones. Mustang Sally’s way of always questioning group decisions to make sure they weren’t brainwashing her like the sect of religious fanatics she’d escaped. Kaige’s temper.
They battled their issues together.
Kaige had never felt more alive or accepted—part of something permanent—as when they got it on like a pack of wolves, which prized and guarded their mates.
It reaffirmed everything he clung to when the world felt uncertain.
Greedy, he wanted more from his partners—more honesty, more commitment and more passion. Without hiding behind Sally. Because someday, maybe he’d find a forever lady of his own…
Then what?
They had to accept Sally wasn’t the glue binding them all together. It was more than that. Refusing to acknowledge the big picture was a disservice to the five guys in this room, who might hope for a partner of their own in addition to the chaotic releases they’d granted each other in their recent arrangement. Eli’s cousin Joe and his Powertools Crew—a group of construction workers with a similar bond—promised it was possible.
If they could find women willing to sign up for a free-for-all of epic proportions…
First things first, though.
It was time to evolve again.
Kaige cracked his knuckles.
Carver glanced up from the auto magazine he’d been flipping through when he sensed Kaige’s challenge. His raised brow signaled at least some interest in taking their discussion further, beyond trash talk. Bryce and Holden hadn’t blinked yet. They sat in the corners of the sofa, all interest in the TV long since vanished.
“Come
on, Barracuda. You welching?” Kaige leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees as he took measure of their oldest roommate. Roman had lived out on the streets longest—survived alone, steeled himself against reality.
While hard knocks had tempered him, made him as undentable on the outside as a vintage stainless-steel bumper, it’d also left him the most broken on the inside. At least that was Kaige’s theory.
Carver roomed with the guy. He’d volunteered to double up since their apartments had already been built by the time Roman joined them—after Tom had busted the guy trying to steal his truck and gave him an honest job at the fueling station attached to the garage downstairs instead of calling the cops.
The shorter, wiry Hot Rod may not have appeared as strong as his bunkmate, but he often eased the way for Barracuda in confrontational situations. Today was no exception.
Roman wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his knuckles despite the AC pumping an arctic breeze through their loft. Well, too damn bad. If he had a problem with blowing a dude, he shouldn’t have run his mouth. He’d wagered a hummer that he could last longer than Kaige could while fucking Mustang Sally on their maiden voyage as a group. Underestimating the lure of her sweet pussy had been his downfall. To be fair, Kaige had only lasted a few seconds longer. Enough to secure the win.
Sex with Sally topped anything he’d done with barflies. It meant more, felt better, because the release it gifted him went beyond simple physical relief.
But Mustang was busy being girly for once, and he was horny. So this would have to do.
Besides, making Roman squirm wasn’t easy. If nothing else, Kaige would enjoy having him hooked for a bit. If he really didn’t get off on it though, Super Nova wouldn’t force the guy.
What fun would that be?
Carver nudged Barracuda’s knee with his own. “I’ve got this. You can detail my Road Runner for me later, okay?”
“Meep, you don’t have to do it.” Roman called his best friend by his nickname. They’d all adopted one based on their favorite cars. Sure, they’d worked on thousands at this point, but each Hot Rod had one they claimed as their baby. Carver’s Plymouth Road Runner had earned him Meep. As in meep meep. He was a fast fucker when he needed to be. Sometimes, in those early days, Barracuda’s lingering bad habits and runaway mouth when sloshed had gotten them in some tight situations.
“Hell, I’d much rather go down on Super Nova than slave over that beast in this heat.” Carver slapped Roman on the back then rose from the couch, coming to stand in front of Kaige.
The twinkle in his hazel eyes wasn’t uncommon, though it’d never been focused on Kaige quite like that before when the guy shrugged and declared, “I used to be pretty good at this. Enough to haul in some cash for food. It probably won’t take more than ninety seconds to polish his knob. You’ll be buffing chrome in the fucking sun for hours. Your loss, not mine.”
Holden snorted. “That’s probably a true story, all the way around.”
“Yeah. I’m guessing it’s not going to be a drawn-out affair.” Bryce guffawed along with his buddy. None of them seemed fazed by Carver’s confession. Neither would they judge him. They’d all done some unsavory things to survive before the Londons took them in. Bringing someone to orgasm was the least of their collective sins. They’d stand by Carver no matter what he’d had to do to make it.
“You’ll be shooting into your own damn hands while I’m buried in a hot, wet mouth.” Kaige shrugged. “Laugh all you want, boys. You’re just jealous.”
“Damn well better be.” Carver tapped his jaw. “I may be rusty, but I demanded top dollar back in the day.”
“Why don’t you put your mouth where your money was?” Kaige lifted his ass high enough to swipe his elastic-waist pants to the tops of his thighs. He reached for his cock.
Carver beat him to it.
A surprised gurgle flew from his parted lips when his friend skillfully manhandled his junk as if it were the shifter of his beloved ride. Without hesitation, Meep fished Kaige’s half-hard tool out and aimed it toward his open, descending mouth.
The guy shoved Kaige’s thighs wider than he was used to spreading them in order to accommodate the slender shoulders of a woman. His groin protested until Meep made him forget all about the minor discomfort.
Super Nova shivered as Carver’s breath washed over his sac and the base of his erection. Of course he’d seen Alanso hoover Eli a bunch of times these past months. Those visuals hadn’t prepared him for what it would feel like to have another dude’s hands on him.
Rough calluses rubbed him as Carver’s fingers surrounded him, more comfortably accommodating Kaige’s girth than any girlfriend had ever managed. Not that he was huge or anything, but he made a nice handful for his friend. “Shit!”
“Too hard?” The single raised brow on Meep’s face spoke more of taunt than genuine concern. Kaige didn’t give a fuck. Let him tease all he wanted, as long as he sealed those lips he licked over Kaige’s raging hard-on sometime this century.
“You tell me.” Super Nova rocked his hips upward, thrusting his cock through the ring of his friend’s fingers.
“Nah. You feel great.” Carver smiled then flicked his tongue out before Kaige could brace himself for the initial contact. “Taste good too.”
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Bryce growled. Kaige caught motion in his peripheral vision and took half a second to check it out. Sure enough, their Rebel nearly tore his boxers in his haste to reach his own monster stiffy.
Not to be left in their dust, Roman and Holden did the same. Soon the three guys in their audience paced themselves, stroking in sync to the tempo Carver set with sure, solid passes of his fist on Kaige.
“Too much more of that and I won’t make it to the main event,” he warned Meep in a rasp so husky he might have blushed, if he were capable of such a thing after so much rough living.
“We’re only getting started. Don’t ruin everyone’s fun so soon.” Carver squeezed the base of Kaige’s shaft, pressing solidly in exactly the right spot to grant him a reprieve from his trek to cloud nine. “Besides, if I don’t blow you, then I suppose the bet isn’t paid up and we’ll have to start all over again.”
“Yeah, Super Nova. Exploding prematurely isn’t allowed.” Roman spoke up for his best friend—the guy who’d willingly knelt in his place. “Let Meep enjoy his treat. Help him forget about having to do this and make him remember wanting to instead.”
Well, shit. When Barracuda put it like that, Kaige would be glad to perform this community service. As often as necessary to obliterate another ghost from their pasts. Purely selfless. Yeah, sure. But that was how things worked with the Hot Rods. They healed each other simply by being together. They’d been doing it for over a decade.
He looked up, absorbing the force of his friends’ attention. Their stares riveted on the intersection of his body and Carver’s. The other guy had progressed, now fitting his mouth over the weeping head of Kaige’s cock. He slurped the puddle on top before gliding effortlessly to the base in one long move.
Jesus.
As if that weren’t enough to redline Super Nova’s engine and nearly blast the top of his skull off, having his friends witness his surrender to Carver’s unbelievable fucking hotness only fueled his revving.
Kaige groaned again, thinking of all the times they’d watched pornos and jerked off together. Somehow having their interest lasering in on him—instead of some actress or three with enormous fake tits—felt completely different.
Intense and sort of sacred.
He shook his head hard enough that his dreads came loose from the black leather tie he’d captured them in. They slapped against his brightly tattooed shoulders. The brushing contact had him wishing the Hot Rods were all gathered tight around him. Petting him like they’d done to Mustang Sally these past months, coddling her when she proved brave enough to submit to their combined affections.
He wanted them to approve of him using Meep so well. Or was it
the other way around?
For now, he’d settle for ogling his friends right back. Maybe even goading them with extra-loud moans of approval when Carver eased up on the suction to lick and nip the underside of Kaige’s shaft.
“You realize you three could give each other a hand and make that more fun, don’t you?” Carver didn’t pause his manipulation of Kaige’s throbbing cock when he joined the mischief-making efforts. He simply transferred the motion to his deft fingers so he could peek over at their buddies, as if daring them to stay separate when he had been bold enough to cross this bridge.
Bryce and Holden exchanged a glance then shrugged. They fisted each other’s shafts. Both of them cried out at the contact of another guy’s flesh pressed to their own. Off to the side—alone—Roman nearly tore his cock off with savage yanks as he studied his roommate devouring Kaige.
Super Nova had sensed that Barracuda preferred his sex extreme, like most other aspects of his life—drinking, gambling and racing. Although he’d maintained an iron grip on his control when he fucked Sally, he seemed a little less enthused than the rest of them during their group sessions, which had remained pretty vanilla…
If you didn’t count that whole seven-guys-on-one-girl action thing.
Still, Roman had never hesitated to plow her. He’d emptied himself just as vigorously as the rest of them into the condoms they all had agreed without discussion to wear when they played with her. No doubt she belonged primarily to Eli and Alanso.
If they ever wanted to start a family, well, that was up to them.
“Hang on.” Kaige tapped Carver’s cheek as he realized what they’d unwittingly done in their eagerness. His erection flagged the teeniest bit. “I should have gotten protection for you. I think there are some mint rubbers in the stash. I’m clean, don’t worry, but I know we usually…”
“Shut up.” Meep smacked Kaige’s inner thigh, spreading warmth and the flare of sweet pleasurable pain through his nervous system. Barracuda grunted in response, as if ready to beg his roomie to do it again. “Things are different with Sally. No chances. I’m safe, and I know you are too, right?”