More The Merrier

by Jayne Rylon

  Irresistible.

  Though it was late enough to be considered morning, Mike grabbed her around the waist and bent her over the back of the sofa. He lifted the back hem of the maroon robe she’d belted around herself following her shower earlier and draped the silk across her lower back.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she could barely reach the floor.

  Mike used his foot to tap on the inside arches of hers until she spread her legs. Keeping his hands on her waist for support, he knelt down and—without wasting any time—buried his face in her pussy.

  He licked her all over, trying his best to get her wet enough to fuck.

  Mike should have known that even his functional contact would turn her on. Kate sighed and trembled in his grasp. He bit her ass, dragging his teeth over one cheek then the other, before rising once more.

  “Fuck me, Mike. Please.” She rocked back toward him as he shoved his pajama pants down enough to free his steely cock.

  Although he couldn’t wait to be inside her, it wasn’t something rough he was craving. No, it was something more than that. Something possessive.

  He wrapped his hand around Kate’s neck with careful but unmistakable pressure.

  She went limp in his hold, allowing him total control to do as he liked. To satisfy them both with his claiming. Mike blanketed her back, lying on her so she could feel the full weight of his chest pressed to her back. He sucked on her neck beside his fingers, hard enough to leave a mark, as he fit his cock to her opening and pushed.

  She took him inside, welcoming him into her body with a soft moan and the flex of her pussy around him.

  Mike didn’t pound into her frantically. No, he rode her with powerful yet measured flexes of his ass that ground his dick inside her. In this position, he knew the tip of his cock would rub her in all the right places. As extra insurance, he lowered one hand to her hip, then slid it inward so it was trapped between the couch and Kate.

  He used his thumb to strum her clit as he rocked against her, hard enough to make the couch scoot forward a few inches with one particular thrust.

  As she clamped down tighter and tighter around him, his balls drew closer to his body. He could feel himself reaching the point of no return, but he wanted this time above all others, to come with her. Not before or after, but together.

  “Mike,” Kate gasped.

  “Yeah,” he growled in her ear.

  “I’m going to—”

  “Me too.” He picked up his pace just a little, giving them both the final little bit of friction they needed.

  Kate buried her face in the couch cushion and bit down on it to keep from screaming. He knew how she felt. So he latched his mouth onto her shoulder and did the same. His wife came around him, massaging him with the pulses of her contractions.

  It felt divine as he emptied himself inside of her, every last drop drawn forth by the reaction of her body to his. He stayed like that, linked with her until his cock softened and slipped from her.

  Wrecked, Kate sagged over the couch, unable to move. So he lifted her over the back and placed her on the cushions before climbing over it himself. He stretched out next to her, pillowing his head on her soft breasts while she stroked his hair.

  Content with their little kingdom, he never wanted to move.

  “We should go to bed,” Kate murmured.

  “In a minute.” The fire leeched all the strength from his bones.

  *

  Next thing he knew, Mike was being shaken awake by Kate. Soft coral-colored light accompanied the rising sun, which sparkled off a freshly fallen coat of snow.

  “Mike, we have to get up. It’s present time. I can’t believe Abby slept this long considering how excited she was.” Kate stretched and sat up. “Then we need to get over to Kayla and Dave’s place before noon.”

  “Mommy! Daddy! Santa came! Santa came!”

  Mike winked at Kate. “Yes, he definitely did.”

  His wife laughed as she swiped the hat from his head and jammed it beneath the couch cushion before Abby could bust him wearing it. Instead of flying to the bike as he’d imagined her doing for weeks, Abby ran to them instead. They picked her up and smothered her with hugs and kisses.

  “Merry Christmas, Abby.” Kate straightened her nightgown.

  “Merry Christmas!” She turned to Mike. “Is it time to go yet, Daddy?”

  “Go where?” he wondered.

  “To Aunt Kay and Uncle Dave’s house.” She squirmed as if she’d run there if they set her down.

  “Aren’t you excited to open your presents?” Kate glanced at Mike, her brows raised.

  Abby nodded vigorously. “After.”

  “After what?” Kate asked. Had they forgotten something? Maybe Abby was hungry? They did have all their best meals over at the resort.

  Instead of answering, Abby lifted her tiny fist. Glitter rained down around her. Maybe that explained where she’d been this morning. Busy making something in her room.

  “What’s this?” Mike ruffled her hair and bent down to take a closer look at what their little girl clutched in her hands.

  “A present. For Nathan. I made it myself and I want to give it to him.” She proudly showed off her hard work, which looked like a glob of glue, some marker scribbles and a whole lot of sparkles.

  Mike’s heart couldn’t have fit a single drop more of love in it right then without bursting. “Even before you see what Santa brought you?”

  Kate ignored her husband’s smirk over their daughter’s head.

  Abby nodded. “Please. Can you help me wrap it?”

  “Of course.” Kate reached beside them to the pile of wrapping supplies they’d never gotten around to putting away the night before. Hopefully Abby wouldn’t notice Santa had the same pattern paper they did.

  “No, no. A bigger bow.” Abby directed Kate, making Mike smile even wider. She was so much like her mother. Maybe it was hearing Morgan and Joe’s news last night, but he thought maybe he’d have to talk to Kate later about trying again. It was time to give Abby a brother or sister, he thought.

  “Daddy, get dressed.” Abby stomped into her boots and stood on her tiptoes, trying to open the door herself. “Come on, let’s go!”

  Kate sagged against Mike’s side as he squeezed her shoulder. The weight and heat of her pressed against him steadied him as he got emotional, thinking about their lives and how entwined they were with all the rest of their crewmates and even the Hot Rods.

  “Let me call Aunt Morgan first and make sure it’s okay if we crash their morning,” Kate said to Abby.

  “It’s fine,” Abby insisted.

  “How do you know?” The inner workings of her mind fascinated Mike.

  “Because we’re family. And family is always welcome.” His daughter looked at him like he was dense.

  “Well, technically that’s true…”

  And then she dropped a bomb.“I mean, right now we’re just friends, but someday me and Nathan are gonna get married.”

  Mike whipped his stare to Kate.

  Thinking of their daughter having any boyfriend, never mind a life partner—and especially Joe’s adorable little kid—blew his mind. But what if she was right? What if Abby and Nathan were always as inseparable as they had been since birth?

  Huh.

  They could be the beginning of a whole new generation of Powertools, like Quinn and the expanding gang he figured the kid was about to kick off over at Hot Rides. Wouldn’t that be something?

  “I can’t wait to see that,” Kate chuckled, shaking her head.

  It was a moment they’d recount many times after that day, most notably in a speech at their daughter’s wedding.

  Want To Read More About The Crew?

  If you’ve enjoyed the Powertools Crew so far, don’t wait to find out more about them and their mechanic cousins in the Hot Rods series, which begins with King Cobra.

  Also stay tuned for new stories coming soon about Hot Rides and Quinn.

  If the sexy c
onstruction crew were Powertools, their cousin mechanics are sure to be Hot Rods. Nothing’s sexier than seven men with hot rods.

  Hot Rods, Book 1

  After Eli’s mother died, his father honored her life’s mission as a social worker by taking in several kids from the wrong side of the tracks. Not all of them stuck, but those who did became Eli’s quasi family.

  Their bonds, forged in fires set by their personal demons, are unbreakable—or so Eli wants to believe. Especially since he and Alanso, his best friend and head mechanic, witnessed the overpowering allure of polyamory while visiting the Powertools crew.

  Much as Eli would like to deepen the relationships among his foster brothers and sister in the Hot Rods Restoration Team, he’s hesitant to risk everything on a quick romp behind a stack of tires.

  But when Eli catches Alanso exploring their mutual fantasy at a known hookup spot in a public park, all bets are off. And Eli must decide if it’s time to jump in full throttle—and trust his instincts to guide him through the night. If the pair of mechanics can dodge the potholes in their own relationship, maybe they can race together toward the unconventional arrangement with Mustang Sally they both desire.

  Warning: Fasten your seatbelts, this is going to be a wild (and naughty) ride!

  An Excerpt From King Cobra:

  Chapter One

  Eli London stared at the drop of sweat gathering on the shoulder of one of his mechanics, Alanso. He flexed his fingers around the torque wrench he’d retrieved for the man, refusing to let go and trace the path perspiration took over deceptively wiry muscles.

  Inked artwork brightened as the bead dampened several tattoos. First a tribal scribble, then a portrait of Al’s long-lost mom, and finally the top of an intricate cross that disappeared beneath the bunched fabric clinging around his waist. Torn and oil-stained coveralls hugged a high, tight ass.

  All Eli could think of these days was that goddamned ass, which Alanso now shoved out in his direction while the bastard tuned some rich kid’s engine. With hardly any effort at all, Eli could smack it. Or bite it. Or fuck it.

  Son of a bitch.

  Nothing good could come of this obsession. Damn his cousin Joe for putting crazy thoughts in his brain. The guy was a member of a construction crew that liked to work hard and play harder together. Their polyamorous bedroom gymnastics had become obvious when Eli and Alanso had walked in on a scene he couldn’t forget. But just because that bastard had been lucky enough to find a whole team of fuck buddies his wife adored—no, loved—didn’t mean such a wild arrangement could work for everybody in the world.

  Eli had no right to wish for the same. Yet lately, each time he looked at the half dozen guys and girl he considered his grease monkey family, he found himself sporting a hard-on stiff enough to jack up a tank with. Thankfully, the oblivious gang hadn’t identified the source of his recent frustration. Though they certainly had borne the brunt of his bad temper, adding guilt to the unslakable arousal stripping his gears, leaving him spinning his wheels.

  Stuck and stranded. Alone with his dirty little secret.

  Except for Alanso

  Why had that mechanic been the one to witness Joe and his crew’s alternative loving along with Eli? Probably because they went most everywhere together. Eli shoved the memory of his right-hand man’s right hand from his mind. Or at least he tried. The guy had tortured Eli’s cock with greedy pumps of his trembling fist while the crew’s foreman, Mike, demonstrated just how hot it could be to take on one of his own. By fucking Joe while the mechanics had stared, in awe of the power exchange.

  Grunts had spilled from Joe’s mouth, which knocked against his wife’s breast as he took everything Mike gave him then begged for more. The audible decadence echoed through Eli’s mind day in and day out. In perfect harmony with the memory of Alanso’s answering cries as he witnessed the undeniable claiming.

  Eli knew that if he slammed Alanso against the 426 inch engine block of that 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T coupe, the man would spread and welcome him.

  Boss, friend…brother.

  And that’s where the fantasy turned to battery acid, burning Eli’s insides with the bitter taste of responsibility and logic.

  How could he want a guy he considered family? How could he violate that trust?

  He couldn’t afford to lose Alanso.

  Not from his business, definitely not from his life.

  So he could never seize what he craved. Frustration bubbled over.

  “What’s taking so long, Diaz?” Eli knocked thick, bunched biceps with the tool he carried.

  “We’re trying to make a profit here, you know?”

  Alanso couldn’t seem to wipe his glare away as easily as he rid his brow of the moisture dotting it. He snatched the wrench from Eli and returned to his task without taking the bait. If Eli couldn’t fuck, the least the guy could do was give him the courtesy of engaging in a decent fight. His teeth ground together.

  “You hear me, huevón? This isn’t some charity case. Hot Rods is a business. Don’t spend all day on a five-hundred-dollar job.” Eli thumped the hood, knowing how the impact would reverberate.

  Alanso’s shoulders tensed. The clench of muscles along his spine altered the shape of his tattoos. Still, he said nothing about the low blow—or how he’d repaid the Londons a million times over for their hand-up through a solid decade of friendship and loyalty—and continued about his job. One he was damn fine at performing. No one could make an engine purr like Alanso.

  “You want half-assed, go hire a motorman from the chain in town.” He didn’t bother to acknowledge Eli with a look.

  Still, as Alanso’s boss and best friend, Eli knew that tone well enough. It’d be accompanied by Al’s tattooed middle finger sticking up along that wrench, he’d bet.

  The defiance made Eli long to grab the other man’s chin and force him to gaze up. Maybe then Alanso would see the desperation making Eli more unhinged than Mustang Sally during a particularly bad bout of PMS. God help them all.

  He’d never wanted something he couldn’t have so badly before. Except maybe to heal his mom during those horrid weeks she’d spent dying.

  Terror and a soul-deep pain that never entirely faded turned him into something no better than a cornered animal. Eli lashed out. “Good idea. Maybe they’d spend less time checking me out and do their goddamned work.”

  A clang surprised him. He didn’t quite realize what had happened until a spark flew from the metal tool where it connected with the concrete floor of the garage. Alanso had winged the thing an inch or less from Eli’s thankfully steel-toed boot when he spun around.

  He wouldn’t have missed by accident.

  “Para el carajo! Maybe I should’ve done more than look. You’re obviously too hardheaded to man up and come for me. So the deal’s off the table. I’ve wasted too much time on a dude who’s in denial. You’re right about that.” Alanso sneered. “I’m tired of waiting for you to grow some cojones.”

  “Keep your voice down.” Eli checked over his shoulder. Kaige and Carver didn’t so much as glance in their direction, but the stillness of their bodies made it clear they caught at least wisps of the conversation. Years of tough living had taught the men to tread lightly in conflict. At least until swinging a punch became necessary. Then it was likely to become a free-for-all.

  “Joder! Now you want to shut me up. Come mierda.” Alanso scrubbed a hand over his bald head, leaving a streak of oil that tempted Eli to buff it away, maybe with his five o’clock shadow. “Wouldn’t want the rest of the Hot Rods hearing about the good life and how we’re not living it, right? They might revolt.”

  “Hey, I’ve never kept anyone against their will. You all chose to stay here. With me. The door’s open.” Eli waved toward the enormous rolling metal sheets that protected the garage bays at night or when the weather turned cold. Through them, the pumps of the service station his dad had started were visible.

  A flash of something miserable twisted Alanso’s usua
lly smiling lips into a grimace. The gesture had Eli thinking of something other than what it would feel like to get a blowjob from the man. That was a first after weeks of studying that mouth.

  He reached out, but it was too late. Alanso dodged, taking a step back and then another.

  “You know what, Cobra.” He grabbed his crotch hard enough to make Eli wince. “You can suck it. Or, then again… No, you can’t. That fucking checkered flag has dropped, amigo.”

  Reflex, instinct, dread—something—inspired Eli to lunge for the man who turned away.

  Warm, moist skin met his palm.

  “Get your fucking hands off me.” When the engine guru pivoted, the unusual chill in his brown eyes froze Eli in his tracks. “You had your chance. You blew it. For us both. I’m out of here.”

  “You’re quitting?” Eli gaped as the bottom fell out of his stomach. “Wait—”

  “Hell no. I told you I’m over that bus-stop phase.” Alanso sliced his hand through the air between them. His knuckles skimmed Eli’s chest. They left a slash of fire across his heart. “I’ve got places to go and people to do. There are things I gotta learn about myself. And for the first time since we were fifteen, you’re not going to be a part of that with me. Your loss.”

  “Shit. I-I’m sorry.” Eli couldn’t find a way to say what for. For violating their friendship, for wanting to destroy what they had or for acting like an ass by postponing the inevitable—he couldn’t make up his mind. “Don’t go.”

  They’d drawn a crowd. Even Roman inched closer now. The tough yet quiet guy stared openly at their spectacle. Charged air had somehow tipped off Sally too. She emerged from the painting booth, crossing the bays at an alarming rate. If she got tangled up in this, Eli would never forgive himself. Of all their gang, he knew better than to trample on her emotions. Her heart would rip in two if she had any idea of the rift opening at his feet right now.

  Just like his chest was hewn.

  “I’m not leaving leaving, Cobra.” Alanso lowered his voice. “This is my home. I hope some things haven’t changed. Let me know if I’m no longer welcome and I’ll pack my shit. But I can’t fucking do this anymore. Not for another damn minute. I have to know what it’s like. To be honest about who I am and what I want. Before I lose any more respect for either of us.”