Manipulate

by Pam Godwin

  Their mouths came together. Their chests collided, and they fell onto the mattress in a rolling grind of bodies.

  His weight pressed down on top of her, and his kisses turned ravenous. He stripped her of her clothing, and she shoved down his briefs. Then they were naked, skin to skin, heart to heart, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Ricky,” he said gruffly without looking away.

  “Here.” Ricky pressed a condom into Martin’s hand. “Slow and easy. If it gets dark in your head, I’ll pull you back.”

  Martin tore open the condom and rolled it on. With his hips between her legs, he ran his fingers along her slit, spreading her wetness.

  She moaned. “Martin.”

  He shushed her and bit her lips. Then he trailed those soaked fingers over her nipple. “Are you scared?”

  “Yeah. I’m scared you won’t ever put it in.”

  He bared his teeth with a growl and drove his hips into hers, filling her up in one long thrust.

  Their eyes connected. Their breaths held. Then they burst into movement.

  “Goddamn, Tula.” He pistoned into her, holding her close and kissing her with a possessive tongue.

  She gasped at the wet burn between her legs and flexed upward, chasing his rhythm, desperate to take all of him.

  He was magnificently long and thick. Every thrust required effort, working each inch deeper and deeper. Before he buried to the root, he pulled back, slowly dragging all that heaviness away. Then he plunged again.

  “You fit this huge thing inside Ricky?” She squeezed her inner muscles, making him groan.

  “I didn’t hear any complaints.” He rubbed his nose along hers and gave her a gorgeous smile. “You’re going to take us both.”

  Her heart rate went wild. “Don’t tease me.”

  He scooped her up into his strong arms and rolled to his back while keeping them joined. With her legs straddling his incredible body, she sat up and ran her hands over the carved grooves of his chest and abs.

  He touched her the same way, exploring the rise of her breasts and plucking at her nipples. She twisted her hips, and he looked down to where they connected, his eyes smoldering.

  When his gaze lifted, he took in every detail of her shape, his fingers following the path of his eyes.

  The intensity of his attention on her sliced up her breaths into little needy gasps. To be desired by such a beautiful, perfectly sculpted man felt surreal.

  “What did you look like before six months of training?” She ground down on his cock, delighting in the sound of his groan.

  “He looked the same.” Ricky ripped open a condom packet with his teeth. “Pretty sure he has endless layers of abs under those abs. If he loses an eight-pack, he has more to spare.”

  “You should talk.” Martin raked his eyes over Ricky’s body, lingering on Ricky’s cock as he sheathed it in latex.

  Now that she knew their history as trained slaves, she understood how these two flawlessly attractive men had ended up together. Evidently, all their vigilante friends were stunningly gorgeous.

  “Tula.” Martin clasped her neck and pulled her down to his chest. “You’ve never taken two cocks at once?”

  “You know I haven’t.” Her body caught fire, and her pussy clenched uncontrollably.

  “If you keep doing that…” He kicked up his hips, stroking himself inside her. “I’m not going to last.”

  “I’m not, either.”

  She stretched toward his sinful mouth, tasting his lips, chasing his tongue, and grinding down on him. He pressed in and out of her, worshiping her with his hands and watching her expression.

  He was so damn sexy like this—aroused and attentive and utterly devoted. She lost herself in his passion as they moved in a drugging rhythm.

  Their fucking wasn’t fast and mindless. Nor was it soft and easy. Every thrust was heavy, intimate, and thrumming with affection. They rocked together, kissing and sucking, driven by an unquenchable thirst for love—to grow it and hold it and never let it go.

  She glanced back to look for Ricky, but he was already there, kneeling behind her.

  With her chest pressed against Martin’s, she arched her spine, lifting her ass for Ricky.

  “Jesus.” He groaned and bent down, sinking out of her view. “I wish you could see this. The way your pussy wraps around him, gripping him like a glove as he slides in and out.”

  Spurred by his words and insanely turned on, she undulated her hips and rode Martin’s cock with everything she had.

  Until she felt a gust of warm breath on her back hole. Then the wet, sliding stroke of a tongue.

  “Holy shit.” She faltered, tipping on Martin’s chest as her breaths sprinted into oblivion.

  Ricky’s wicked kiss lowered, licking and sucking the place where she and Martin connected. The sensations were maddening, burning across her flesh and revving her pulse.

  When the heat of his mouth vanished, she didn’t need to look back to see where he went. Martin’s fingers bit into her ass, and he released a long, guttural groan.

  “He’s licking your balls, isn’t he?” She grinned.

  “Christ, yes. He’s—” Martin inhaled sharply, and his body went rigid beneath her. “Ricky, don’t.”

  “What?” She craned her neck, trying to see behind her.

  “Okay, I won’t touch you there.” Ricky leaned over her back to meet Martin’s eyes. “I figured it was off limits, but I needed to know.”

  “Your ass?” she asked quietly. “You don’t want that?”

  “No.” Martin ran a shaky hand down her arm. “I can’t be on the receiving end of anal. Never again.”

  “That’s okay.” She gave him a soft smile and spoke against his lips. “If he needs a back door, he has mine.”

  “I’m going to ruin this pretty little pucker.” Ricky pushed his thumb against her rectum, making her shudder. “But tonight, I’m going to share your pussy with Martin’s massive cock.”

  “I’m wildly excited and equally terrified about that,” she said. “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Probably,” Martin said.

  “Now I’m just terrified.”

  “It’s not going to hurt.” Ricky glided a hand down her spine, massaging her back. “I know what I’m doing, and I’ll go slow.” He reached between her legs from behind, and his fingers found her, delving inside and stretching along the length of Martin’s buried cock. “You’re more than wet enough. Fucking soaked.”

  “I feel you touching me.” Martin shifted beneath her and gripped the backs of her thighs. “Touching both of us. It feels unbelievable.” He widened his legs, taking hers with him.

  In the next breath, a stretch of pressure invaded her pussy. Martin held still, adjusting his hips as Ricky leaned onto her back.

  The fullness inside her bloomed into a wicked burn. She writhed through it, gasping as her body throbbed and stretched with the addition of Ricky’s penetration.

  “How are we doing?” His breathing grew shallow, and the cage of his arms around her began to shake.

  “I’m good.” She focused on Martin’s hooded eyes, his locked jaw, and realized he was too overwhelmed to speak. “We’re adjusting.”

  It was a rough start. With every other thrust, one of them popped out. The positioning of legs and hips took time to perfect, resulting in numerous stops and starts. But once they mastered the alignment and pace, they fell into blissful delirium.

  Their hands went everywhere, gripping muscle, bruising skin, pulling one another closer, harder, as their bodies rose and fell like a tide.

  Martin kissed her until the connection of lips became sloppy and impossible. She clung to his broad shoulders and panted against his neck as she rode the profound sensations of two cocks inside her.

  Then they went wild, fucking into her like flesh and blood machines. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. All she could do was just lay suspended between them and let their hands move her body up and down, jacking themselve
s off.

  Hipbones ground against her, sandwiching her in. They were so deep, so huge. Muscled physiques, burning skin, vibrating groans, intoxicating male scents, stabbing cocks—they were all around her, inside her, owning her with an intensity that shoved her over the cliff.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” As the orgasm sneaked up on her, she found Martin’s eyes and exploded into panting, trembling ecstasy.

  Wave after wave of tingling electricity crashed over her. She ground down on their hardness and screamed their names through multiple octaves.

  Martin’s pupils dilated. His gorgeous mouth hung open, and she was gone, swept away by pleasure and love and complete happiness.

  As aftershocks shuddered through her, she collapsed between them, laughing breathlessly through the wet strands of hair stuck to her face.

  “Fuck, that was hot.” Martin brushed the hair from her eyes.

  “A hot mess.” She sighed, utterly content yet hungry for more. “Will you finish inside Ricky?”

  She didn’t have to ask him twice.

  Their hands caressed and moved her limbs as they repositioned around her. She ended up on her back with Ricky between her legs. He slid into the drenched clasp of her body, lazily stroking as Martin knelt behind him.

  Then Martin drove his hips, driving into Ricky’s ass as Ricky sank in and out of her pussy.

  What a spectacular view. She watched their expressions contort with pleasure, their exhales escaping sharply with relief, and their bodies flexing in their urgency.

  Martin circled his arms around Ricky’s sweat-slick chest and fucked into him with purpose. Hammering hips, slapping flesh, masculine moans—they consumed her with their strength and stamina.

  Ricky turned his neck toward Martin behind him, and their mouths mashed together—all tongue and teeth and volcanic desire. Martin gripped his jaw, pulling him deeper into the kiss as he set the vigorous pace of their fucking.

  “Fucking hell,” Ricky moaned into his mouth.

  “I know.” Martin released him and pushed down on his back, trapping him between her chest and Martin’s.

  There wasn’t a sliver of space between them, their bodies pressed together so tightly they couldn’t press any closer. Yet they managed to keep their weight from crushing her, using the strength in their arms and legs.

  Together, the three of them become one body, one beating heart. They moved in tandem, grinding and rocking in a tumble of limbs, mouths, cocks, and sweat. Skin heated. Muscles contracted, and groans grew deeper as they reached a crescendo.

  “I’m going to come.” Martin bore down on Ricky, his face tight with emotion as he seized her gaze. “Both of you with me.”

  “I’m there.” Ricky panted and caught her mouth in a frenzied kiss.

  He pulled back as he came, his breath caught in his throat, his mouth open in a silent roar. Martin followed him over, pounding hard and losing rhythm.

  The intensity and love burning from their eyes took her with them. She sailed into the searing depths of brown and green, her hands tangling in the contrasting shades of blond and black hair, holding them to her and falling apart.

  They crumbled into a sweaty, sated pile. The tension in their bodies slowly fled. Heart rates cooled down, and they snuggled into warm skin and soft hair, relaxed muscles and caressing hands.

  “I finally have the answer,” she breathed.

  “What?” Martin’s voice rumbled in his chest.

  “Ricky Martin is the answer to every question I’ve ever had about life and death. I’ve experienced both in your arms.”

  Their quiet laughter enveloped her in joy. It was an impenetrable moment.

  Nothing could touch them. Not time or distance. Not the prison walls or whatever awaited outside.

  They held onto the moment with six hands.

  They held on as tightly as possible, in every position, for the next six weeks.

  Tula couldn’t sleep. The sound of her heartbeat thrashed brokenly in her ears. Pain stabbed in her chest and throat, and if she lay here much longer, she would break down so inconsolably she would ruin the last hours she had with Martin and Ricky.

  She’d promised herself she would be strong.

  For her.

  For them.

  Their time in Jaulaso was over, and they’d spent the past few hours making love to her as if every thrust, every kiss, and every breath was their last.

  They’d fucked themselves into a coma.

  Moving slowly and silently, she slid out from between their hot, heavy bodies.

  Martin grunted, reaching for her, and she froze. His hand curled around her hip, clinging to her in his sleep. She waited with tears in her throat.

  Eventually, his fingers loosened, and she slipped out of bed.

  She dressed in the dark, grabbed a towel and soap, and checked the time on her phone.

  Matias Restrepo had told Martin and Ricky that a military guard would arrive on the ninetieth day with court orders to release them from Jaulaso.

  Their ninetieth day started three hours ago.

  Hector wouldn’t learn about their release until they were gone. She would fake her surprise and pretend like she didn’t really care. He believed her relationship with them was just sex and manipulation.

  That was all it was supposed to be.

  She never expected to fall in love.

  She’d been very careful to hide her feelings from Hector. He’d sent her to do a job, and it was compromised the moment she learned he’d lied to her.

  To survive the next three years in his prison, she would have to fake every interaction she had with him. His organization thrived on loyalty. Traitors and dissenters were killed without mercy.

  The lights were off as she crept into the corridor and soundlessly shut the door.

  She wanted to be clean for them when they said goodbye. Not just her body. She needed to cleanse her state of mind.

  The Mexican government would honor the deal that was made for their release. In fact, the government was the only entity that had the power to reduce her sentence. Maybe Martin and Ricky could’ve negotiated for her if they had the intel on Hector that the government wanted. But they didn’t.

  She faced three years of separation from them. She needed to accept that and purge the bitterness that had been gnawing at her for weeks.

  She would say goodbye, absorb their promises, and do what she could to survive the rest of her sentence.

  Her trudging gait carried her through the empty corridor and into the dark stairwell. When she entered the ground floor, she glared at the closed door across the hall.

  Was Hector asleep in there? Was he dreaming about the women and children he extorted for a business he considered unprofitable?

  Maybe his involvement in that operation was so hands-off he didn’t know his cartel was kidnapping people and selling them into slavery.

  She grimaced. That sounded really naive, even in her head.

  With a glance up and down the hall, she found it vacant as usual at three in the morning. One thing she could count on in Area Three was that its residents partied hard and crashed even harder.

  Thirty steps from the stairwell, she passed her old cell. Garra had given it to another inmate weeks ago. Not that she cared. After Martin and Ricky left, she would stay in their cell, wrap up in the lingering scent of them, and pass the rest of her time replaying the best three months of her life.

  A one-minute walk took her out of the cellblock and into the corridor that housed the showers. She stepped into the bathroom and peeked around the corner.

  Empty.

  The light in there stayed on at all hours, and she used it to find a clean place to store her towel and clothes.

  As she reached for the button on her jeans, she heard a terrified squeal.

  The squealing cry of a child.

  A horrible coldness trickled down her spine, and her senses went on high-alert.

  She used to wake to the sound of a crying child when she
slept in her old cell. But she hadn’t had a nightmare since she started sleeping with her guys.

  Was she having some kind of traumatic flashback?

  The cry sounded again, farther away, and the echo lingered, hitting her circulation with electric shocks. The hairs raised on her arms. Her blood turned to ice, and a paralyzing chill trailed goosebumps across her skin.

  She wasn’t half-asleep or drunk on tequila. She was wide awake, totally alert.

  This wasn’t her imagination.

  Where did the cry come from? The vents in the ceiling? The empty corridor?

  Her heart banged in her chest as she approached the door and peered out.

  Not a soul in sight. No sound. No crying child.

  It wasn’t uncommon for the families of the inmates to visit Area Three. Sometimes, those families included children.

  Did a kid get trapped in here? The prison guards did a head count on every person who came and went in the prison. How in the fuck could a child have been missed?

  She stood on the threshold to the hallway, her feet frozen in ratty sneakers as she waited, listened.

  Then she heard it.

  A faraway, muffled shriek. The horrifying sound hiccuped into a convulsion of sobs before abruptly cutting off.

  Terror struck her gut and locked up her joints.

  Someone was hurting that kid.

  She ran in the direction of the cry, down the hall and around the corner. The next corridor veered into a part of Area Three she rarely ventured.

  Doors led to closets and maintenance rooms housing electrical boxes and machinery that kept the prison operational. No one wandered into this area unless something was broken.

  At the next turn in the corridor, she stopped.

  Up ahead was a door to another maintenance room. Only this one stood slightly ajar. The broken chain on the hinge must have swung, preventing it from closing all the way.

  Pain throbbed in her molars from clenching her jaw, and the strength in her legs threatened to abandon her. The instinct to turn back and run straight to Martin and Ricky made her tremble uncontrollably. But she couldn’t leave.

  One of the inmates was hurting that child.

  She didn’t make a sound as she approached the door. She had no weapons, no fighting skills, and her muscles were so taut with fear she could barely move one foot in front of the other.