Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

  But Tia wasn’t dead yet.

  “All right,” she said with an aggressive grin, “you guys want a piece of me, is that it? You boys wanna go for a little ride?” They looked at each other, slightly confused as they pulled down their black swim trunks, massive cocks spilling out, already becoming erect. But Tia only licked her lips and dropped to her knees. “Let’s ride!”

  She grabbed one cock in each hand and started pumping. Tia’s hands strained to wrap around each of those growing erections, blood filling them to capacity as they rose up to meet her. Tia put one cock into her mouth, the salty taste of the ocean and the rubber seal of his wetsuit giving him a savory flavor that made her mouth water. She dropped her tongue to make more room for the huge head, rubbing against the roof of her mouth as she slipped in as far as she could, still pumping the shaft. Her other hand remained busy, twisting and pulling and squeezing the other man’s rock-hard cock, both their balls jiggling.

  The men stood with their legs splayed, hips thrust, amazed and amused at their lovely captive as she willingly worked them, not to mention her incredible skill. But this was an enterprise in which Tia McBride was well-experienced, and she was going to give these two an orgasm that would change their lives, and might even save hers.

  She switched from one cock to the other, coating the head with her saliva, licking the smooth undercarriage, the hairless skin pulled tight over his long, reedy member. It was just a little smaller than the other, and Tia could take it in even farther, almost to mid-shaft, her throat opening to make room for that salty cock as if she intended to swallow it in a single, massive bite. Unable to breathe, Tia pulled herself off the man’s cock and pressed it against her face, nuzzling it, kissing it, blowing little streams of cooling air on its spit-slicked surface.

  The man jutted a bit, uneasy in his stance, and his flinching prick told Tia that he was already getting ready to cum. She turned back to the other, his cock not quite as quick to finish. But what Tia had in mind requires some coordination of her own, and every bit as much skill. He pressed her face against the man’s cock, pushing it flat against his own hairless abdomen. She pushed her face into his crotch, his rod stiff between them, slippery with her saliva. With her hand now free, Tia could cup his balls and give them a squeeze even while she kept yanking the other man’s cum-ready cock.

  Tia went back to the shaft, working both men with the same regular rhythm, in perfect sync, working that pair of pricks with eagerness as she looked up at the men, reading their expressions. “C’mon, boys, c’mon, cum for me! Cum all over me, you two!”

  “I’m cumming,” the one man said, barely able to remain on his feet.

  “Not yet, you pussy,” Tia screamed. She turned and leaned over, biting into the second man’s muscular abs. He yelled, quickly stifling it into a grunt. But the expression had been enough of a trigger to send the man’s body into release. A blur of pumping and Tia could feel the man’s cock pulse, ready to explode.

  “Now, both of you, cum for me! Cum, you dickless pussies; cum!” Tia could feel the hot flow in each man’s dick, one charging down his shaft just before the other. Tia pulled them a bit closer and aimed those cocks directly at her face. The first spat out its wad, an eruption of cum that splashed onto Tia’s cheeks, chin, into her thirsty, gaping mouth. The other burst forth too, both cocks heaving their packages at her, coating her face and her lapping tongue. She pulled and squeezed, milking every last drop of that precious pearlescent potion from each of them, spreading it over her face with their cocks and then licking it up from their cum-covered dicks.

  The men groaned and shuddered, one leaning over to support himself on a small end table, the little lamp tilting a bit but not quite falling over. They went soft as Tia lapped up the last of their juices. She leaned over and wiped her face on one of the man’s upper thighs, its muscles twitching just a bit under the skin.

  “Help me up,” she said, and the two men each took an arm to lift her. But the force of their grip was much more relaxed, the menace in their expressions completely gone. Tia dropped her bikini top and panties, her round breasts firm and proud, her shaved pussy glistening and ready. “Now it’s my turn. You, pick me up.” He shook his head, confused by her vague command and still stunned by his own raging orgasm. Tia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Pick me up, flip me over, and eat me out!”

  The man put his hands on her hips. She was lean and much smaller than he—the bigger of the two men. Tia leaned hard to the side to help the man clumsily turn her over, upside-down, and lifted her so that her crotch was at his face. Tia put her hands on the man’s thick, hard, hairless thighs, supporting herself even as he held her, her legs reaching up and bending back at the knees, languid and idle.

  He was good, a fast tongue running a blurring pattern over her wet pussy, flush with excitement from her abduction and their creamy satisfaction. Her lips clenched and quivered around his probing tongue as it sank deeper, pausing within her before a little wet waggle sent her own juices stirring.

  “You,” she said to the other man, standing in astonishment, his dick getting hard again at the spectacle. “Lick my ass!”

  The man was quick to respond, stepping up to Tia from behind, hands on her smooth cheeks. She’d been in the ocean and she knew she was clean, and judging by his own performance, this was a man who knew what he was doing.

  The flurry of two tongues at once sent a shiver through Tia’s body. She reached back, putting one hand on the other man’s thigh for better support, her body quivering as the duel treatment of her lower body escalated. She was sandwiched between the two men, their long cocks dangling all around her head, their musk rising up to fill her nostrils, intoxicating her even behind the dizziness of blood rush to the head.

  Tia’s fingers dug into their splayed legs, her own gently swaying between the heads of her two kidnappers, their tongues a chaotic competition on both sides of her crotch. She felt as if each man was trying to out-do the other, faster and more frenzied, each man using all his skills and experience. Her pussy was throbbing with heat as he breathed his energy into it, his tongue finding her G-spot and drilling it with that soft, wet muscle—flexible and surprisingly powerful.

  From behind, Tia’s ass was clenching and pulling even as the man spread those cheeks farther apart. The combination of push and pull was a terrific contrast—that hot tongue pushing into her smallest and most tender point.

  Vibrations rose, Tia’s orgasm unwilling to wait any longer. The cum had been days in waiting, anticipating. That was part of the thrill, and a huge part of the payoff. So when that orgasm finally erupted, it came with a body-shaking power. The combination of the gravity pulling her down, the blood filling her brain, and cum welling up in her body brought Tia close to the point of passing out. Air seeped out of her lungs—compressed, hard to breathe in. Her eyesight went blurry, legs jutting with the twitch of her sex nerves, that orgasm churning and bristling inside her, both buried deep and still right on the surface.

  Tia’s body shook, her hand slipping from one of the man’s thighs as her sense of place and time escaped her. Her mind was focused entirely on her body, and her body entirely on her pussy, that volcanic explosion just behind it, nerves on fire.

  “Enough,” she commanded, blindly getting another handhold on one man’s leg, “that’s enough.” They carefully righted her, Tia unsteady as her senses scrambled to retake control. Her body was still trembling just a bit, but her lungs managed to pull in enough air to speak, her brain calming enough to find just the right words.

  Tia didn’t even bother putting the bikini back on. Walking past them and turning with a smile, she said, “Okay, you’re both hired.” Then she turned to saunter across the cabin and to the shower. “Now get the fuck off my yacht.”

  Chapter 1

  Kat

  Twist, fold, twist and fold again. Kathleen Le Fleur had done it a million times before and had every reason to think she’d do it a million times more. Her hands were dr
y from hours of working with those long, colorful sculpture balloons, creating an endless parade of dogs, bunnies, and flowers of various primary and secondary colors. Twist, fold, twist and fold again.

  Another cute kid looked up with another broad smile, the spring breeze pushing through Central Park, making the hot sun bearable. Kat was never short of amazed at how children were drawn to the simple art of balloon twisting—little inflated sculptures taking life right before their eyes. It was a magic trick done just for them—the rare event of witnessing the creation of something artistic and wondrous. It wasn’t much, but she was glad to be able to bring just a little magic into their lives. She knew how little of that there was to go around in the adult world they’d be entering soon enough.

  Too soon, she couldn’t help think, and not nearly for the first time.

  One little girl looked up and asked, “Can you make me a horsie?”

  “Poof,” Kat said with a swirling, pointed index finger, “you’re a horsie.” A few chuckles rose up, keeping the kids happy while they waited in line. The classics always hold up, she thought. Still, Ben should be here on this job, or one of the crew. I’m a founding partner!

  But the realities of running a small business in the Big Apple were only a distraction. Kat had at least another dozen kids to twist balloons for, and she hadn’t even done her magic act yet. The clown makeup was holding fast, and the floppy hat was comfortable enough, but there was still another party at four, and she had to keep things moving.

  There was no time for rest, no time for any real fun of her own. Kat was there for the kids’ fun, and she knew that, and she enjoyed it. But she couldn’t help but think about how little fun her own life had become, how the majority of her day was filled with a jam-packed schedule and plenty of hard work.

  Not far away, the Matthews family were drinking beer, laughing and enjoying their time away from their own children. Sad, Kat couldn’t help think, they’re not taking pictures, not sharing the experience with the kids at all.

  Then the faces of the kids grabbed her attention, smiles melting away. She could see they were looking past her, to something or someone behind her. Kat spun and her heart jumped.

  The homeless man was standing too close; the stink of urine, body odor and bad hygiene was sudden and overwhelming. Kat took a single step back, the children behind her. He stared at her with graying eyes and a nearly toothless mouth, brown beard grimy and stringy. He looked her over—pretty and shorter and shapely—a tasty prize for any predator. But she’d been in New York too long to be that vulnerable, and the first thing she did was keep her wits.

  “Um, this is a private party,” she said, careful to make sure there was no fear in her voice as she quickly finished on one child’s horse. She handed it to the homeless man and went on, “Here ‘ya go, this is for you. Bye now.”

  The homeless man took the balloon, but his eyes were fixed on Kat, and she knew what he was thinking.

  “Hey,” a familiar man’s voice said behind her, “Get the hell outta here, pal!” she turned to see beefy, balding Hank Matthews pushing through the kids and charging the homeless man, his fists clenched, ready to do their ugly business.

  But Kathleen didn’t want the kids to witness such a beating, especially since it wasn’t necessary.

  Yet.

  “Hold on,” she said, “take it easy.” She pulled a few dollars out of her pocket and gave it to the homeless man, shoving it into his other, empty hand. It was caked with a dark film, hard and thick.

  “Don’t do that,” Hank said, “that only makes it worse. These people are a curse on this city, and I don’t want them walking up to kids’ parties and pullin’ this crap!”

  “It’s okay,” she said trying to calm the situation. “At least he’ll go away.” She looked at the homeless man in front of her, their eyes locking. She could see the pain buried in his eyes, lurking in his soul, tormenting him. It wasn’t anger that led this man, but loss, and that was something Kathleen understood all too well.

  He looked back at her and he seemed to understand. They were different people and coming at life from different places, but they were each human, both living, both vulnerable to the same dangers, the same pleasures, the same risks, and the same wonders.

  He let out a great scream and lunged at her. Hank Matthews was too far behind her to be effective. The homeless man was too quick to dodge away from. But Kat’s training was too good to be forgotten, and her instincts sharper than anyone else there. Her arm jutted forward in a flash—before she even realized—the flattened ball of her hand smashing into the homeless man’s sternum. There was no crack of a broken bone, but the man stumbled back in breathless shock, dim eyes wide and round. The kids raised a shocked gasp, and the surprised Hank Matthews stared at her with an open mouth, posture leaning forward.

  The homeless man turned and stumbled off, Hank much more interested in Kat’s quick thinking. “Whoa, that was…that was…whoa!” She smiled and shrugged, but didn’t want to make anything more of it. He looked her up and down, eyes fixed upon Kat’s blond hair tucked under a floppy hat. “How’d you learn that?” Hank inquired, still blown away at her intuitive reflexes.

  “Classes, like most people.”

  “Wow, that’s…wow.” Kat smiled and turned back to the kids, but Hank went on, “Hey, um, what are you doing after the party? You wanna maybe stick around; maybe we have a little party all our own?”

  Should have known, she told herself, forcing a smile. “Oh, sorry, but I’m not allowed to date clients.”

  He shrugged, shoulders beefy under his NYFD T-shirt. “Who’s not lettin’ ya?”

  “My boyfriend.”

  The big man looked her over, shaking his head. “That’s…all right, well, whatever, that’s…whatever…” Kat watched him walk away, but couldn’t ignore the glares from the disheveled homeless man from the nearby park bench, brooding and sinister. Hank’s seemingly endless supply of beers started disappearing faster and faster, but by the time she finished her performance and collected the fee, somebody with a calmer head was talking to him behind a hemlock tree, so she was able to slip away.

  Mitchell Jarvis’ voice was small and metallic coming out of Kat’s smartphone, and it had his usually distracted tone. “Really? The guy didn’t come back?”

  She shook her head, even though Mitchell couldn’t see it, and crossed Fifth Avenue toward the subway. But she did take a glance around to make sure the homeless guy wasn’t making a timely reappearance. “No, thank God he didn’t throw a fit in front of the kids.”

  “Sounds like he did just that. So glad you took those lessons, Kat.”

  “You and me both. How’s the writing coming?”

  “Um, well, it’s coming right along. I’m reading through my latest draft. I think it’s just about ready to send out.”

  “Oh, that’s great, Mitchell. Does that mean you’re free tonight?”

  “God, I wish!” he said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “But I’m on a deadline with this one, and I’m not sure it’s gonna have the polish it’ll need. Can we make it tomorrow night instead?”

  “Sure, tomorrow’s all right,” Kat said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

  After a little pause, Mitchell said, “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. You know how much my work means to me. I pour my soul into my writing, it’s my legacy—”

  “No, I get that, Mitchell, I really do, and I’m proud of you.” Kat enjoyed the little smile which crept over her face. “I like being a big-time writer’s girlfriend.”

  Mitchell coughed up a little chuckle. “Big-time writer. They don’t even know my work in Hollywood at all. If I could get a movie deal, then we’d be talking the real big time.”

  “Maybe we’d be talking about…other things too?” she insinuated.

  Mitchell sighed into the phone, the full measure of his tiredness filling those little metal speakers. “‘Kat, c’mon, we’ve talked about this.”

  “I
know we have, Mitchell. I think maybe it’s time we talked about it again. Don’t you want to take things to the next level?”

  “Of course I do, Kat, you know I do.”

  “I know you say you do,” she countered.

  “‘I mean, it’s just a weird time right now, publishing’s changing—”

  Kat rolled her eyes. “What does that have to do with us moving in together? Really, we’d both be better off money-wise. And life is going by, Mitchell. I’m coming up on thirty years old.”

  “And you’re at the prime of your life,” Mitchell said. “We’ll talk about it more tomorrow. Be at the cabin around seven?”

  The cabin, she repeated silently, always with the cabin.

  “Are you sure you don’t wanna come into town, just to try it out? Maybe it won’t be as bad as you remember.” A protracted silence passed between them, as if the rest of New York was still moving right along around her, but Kat’s own world had suddenly ground to a halt.

  Again.

  “‘Kat, listen, I just don’t wanna keep having this conversation.”

  “I know you don’t, Mitchell, and neither do I. But, I mean, you’re a grown man, you’re a successful author. Why not come down to the big city, just for a night? I’ll protect you, I promise.”

  “It’s not about safety, Kat, it’s about … y’know what? Forget it, you obviously don’t understand.”

  “Well, no, Mitchell, I really don’t understand,” she said, finally agreeing with him.

  “Because you’re not an artist, okay? I’m sorry to have to put it that way, but you’re a party clown—”