by James, Tate
Fuck yes. Yes, get me naked!
"Hawke needs to be punished for these," Weston growls, sitting back slightly with the grayish, full coverage briefs in one hand and the shapeless, wide-strap bra in the other. "This is just ... sick."
A laugh bubbles out of me as he scowls at the garments, and it's just enough to shake my sex haze a tiny bit.
"Wait," I say again. He tosses my granny panties over his shoulder, but I halt him with a hand to his chest when he tries to kiss me again.
He huffs an exasperated sound, but meets my eyes with seriousness. "Yes, sweetheart?"
I frown. My legs are either side of him, my slick pussy spread wide open, and his erection is straining against his boxers. But I need to get one thing clear.
"You're not winning the bet," I tell him. "This is just sex."
His pierced brow arches, and a small smile curves his lips. "You're rejecting my deal?" His hands slide up my bare legs, skimming over my hips and belly until they cup my full breasts. "Two mil is a lot of money, Natalia. And it's such an easy win. Can't you just picture Hawke's pissed off face?"
Oh god, that is tempting.
"I'm not saying no," I reply, running my own hands down his chest. He's got some incredible Asian-style ink, interwoven with scars from countless injuries. "Just that I have no intention of falling for you. This ... what we're about to do? Just sex." My hands reach his waistband, and without waiting for a response, I free his hard cock.
Weston makes a pained moan as I stroke him, playing with the piercing at his tip, and his eyes flutter closed for a second or two.
"I almost forgot how good your hands feel on my dick," he whispers, ducking his head back down and kissing me brutally.
"West," I growl when he frees my lips a moment, my grip on his metal-studded shaft tightening with warning. "I mean it. I'm not playing this stupid game. I'm not falling for you."
He just kisses me again, shifting to line himself up with my dripping core. In one smooth thrust, he's fully seated inside me, so it's over the sound of my own moans that I hear his reply.
"We'll see about that," he whispers.
He starts moving, slamming his hips into mine with increasing force until I'm screaming my climax way, way too fucking soon.
"No," I groan as my body quivers and shakes, "that was too fast!"
Weston pauses, catching his breath while my cunt remains clenched around his dick. He probably couldn't move even if he wanted to; my Kegels are strong as fuck.
"You're damn right it was," he agrees, getting a wicked look in his eyes. "Good thing women can come multiple times because I'm nowhere near done with you."
A shiver rolls through me, and I moan. It's six parts excitement and about one part fear. Not because I think Weston would ever hurt me—I mean, in a way that I don't enjoy—but because I suspect he's making up for lost time, and I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow.
He gives me no warning before grasping my hips and flipping me over onto my stomach. I barely manage to brace my own weight before my ass is in the air and his long, pierced cock is buried deep inside my sensitive, throbbing pussy.
"Oh shit," I gasp, arching my back so that my diamond hard nipples brush the comforter in the most delicious, teasing way. "Weston ..." I trail off with a moan because words can't express how fucking good it feels to have him inside me.
His fingertips dig into my skin like he's using my hipbones as handles while fucking me hard and fast, his breath coming in harsh gasps.
"Shit," he exhales, slowing his thrusts right as I’m about to come again.
"What?" I demand, feeling snappy as that second orgasm skitters out of my grasp again. "What's wrong?"
He pulls out of me completely, leaving me feeling … empty. In more ways than one. I crane my neck, frowning at him in confusion, but his eyes are clenched shut and his face screwed up with concentration.
"Uh, Weston?" I prompt, desperate to continue the fucking.
He shakes his head. "Hang on a sec."
Weston slides off the bed and walks over to his dresser, his throbbing erection bobbing in the air, slick and shiny with the evidence of my arousal. Fucking hell, it makes me want to take him in my mouth and—
"Ah,!" he exclaims, finding something in his drawer and holding it up. A small plastic bag is between his fingers, containing a half dozen little pink tablets. "Still in the party mood?"
My brows shoot up in surprise. "Is that what I think it is?"
Weston smirks, fishing one of the pink pills out. "If you think it's ecstasy, then yes. Yes, it is."
I grin. I've played this game before. The drugs make guys last a whole lot longer than they normally would … which means Weston had been about to blow his load. That thought makes me all warm inside.
"Tongue out, Natalia," he purrs, walking towards me with that gorgeous studded cock just begging for my mouth. But that's not what he means. Not yet, anyway.
I roll over on the bed until I'm sitting on the edge, then open my mouth like a good girl. How can I not, when he uses that voice? I can only hope he puts more than just the drug in my mouth.
Just as his fingers touch my tongue, something occurs to me.
"Wait," I say, pulling back an inch. "Hawke's probably going to torture us tomorrow, isn't he?"
Weston frowns, not following my train of thought. "Yeah, probably. So why not make it worth it?"
I grin again, fully intending to scream the whole damn hotel down tonight. "I mean, the idea of doing hundreds of push-ups while coming down isn't a fun idea." I wrinkle my nose, and Weston nods his agreement, looking thoughtful.
"Okay, how about half a pill, then I'll steal some weed from Colt so we can come down enough to sleep later." He uses his short thumbnail to cut the pill in half, then places one part in my mouth without waiting for a reply.
His finger lingers between my lips longer than necessary, and he holds my gaze while I suck that finger as though it's his cock.
"God, yes," he breathes, putting the rest of the pill in his mouth and swallowing it with a swing of vodka. "Mmm," he murmurs as I release his finger and go for his cock, "drugs weren't the only treat in that drawer, you know?"
Well, color me intrigued. "Oh yeah?" I practically salivate. "What've you got for me, Weston?"
Knowing these guys, and I kinda feel like I do now, it could be fucking anything. Nipple clamps? Violet wand? Maybe even a strap-on dildo for me to fuck Weston in the ass?
He turns back to the drawer and returns to me holding a bottle of lube in one hand and a reasonably sized butt plug in the other.
"Turn over," he orders me. "I want this firmly lodged inside you before we fuck again."
My whole body flushes with hot, tingly excitement. The ecstasy is starting to set in already, which tells me Weston has a really good supplier. I look up at him, taking in his drug-dilated pupils and throbbing cock, then do as I'm told.
"Good girl," he whispers, tossing the butt plug onto the bed beside me. It's in my line of sight, and I get flutters of anxiety as I eye it up. It's big. Bigger than the toys I've used in the past and a hell of a lot bigger than the candle Hawke fucked me with on the altar. Then again, it's probably proportionate to Mace's cock, and if I want to take him back there …
Cold lube drips down my ass crack, and I suck in a sharp breath.
Weston chuckles, dropping the tube onto the bed and smoothing his palms over my ass cheeks. "Bit jumpy, sweetheart?"
I groan. "Stop teasing me." I wriggle my ass, desperate for him to get on with it. Now that anal's on the table, I'm fucking gagging for it. Or maybe that was the MDMA working its way through my system and making me feel like fucking Aphrodite, goddess of sex.
"Be a good sub and stop telling me what to do, Natalia," Weston says, but his voice is tainted with amusement. He slaps my ass, hard enough to make me jump, but it's just a warning. He wants this just as much as I do, something confirmed seconds later when his thumb massages the lube into my asshole, then pushes slow
ly inside.
Our groans seem to harmonize, and his hot, heavy cock twitches against my thigh as he adds a second finger, pumping in and out and stretching me. Preparing me for the sparkly purple beast on the bed beside my face.
"Shit, Natalia," Weston mutters, nudging the head of his cock against my pussy. "I feel like I've had a permanent hard-on since the day I met you."
He slides back inside me and I cry out with sheer pleasure. His fingers are still in my ass, but he leans forward as he thrusts, grabbing the purple plug with his free hand.
"You ready for this, babe?" he asks, taking his fingers away and running the narrow tip of the plug up and down my crack, coating it in excess lube.
I don't reply. I don't need to, because my pussy is clenching his cock in desperation, and I'm rubbing my cheek all over the comforter like a cat marking her territory. Holy shit. It feels so damn good. Everything touching me feels so. Damn. Good.
Weston starts working the toy into my ass, and little panting mews escape my throat. His cock is still buried inside my pussy and it feels like the plug just tripled in size, but the discomfort just turns me on even harder. I could blame the drugs, but I'm pretty sure I'd go nuts for this while sober, too.
After what feels like an eternity, the whole thing is in and Weston's hands return to my hips.
"You love that, don't you?" he chuckles, running his hands over my flesh like he can't keep them still. He probably can't. "You're so fucking dirty, Natalia. You're so fucking perfect for us."
He starts moving again while he speaks, and this time, when he fucks me, I'm so fucking full, I instantly come. It's similar to when he and Colt double-teamed my pussy, but different. More.
I'm addicted, and can't fucking wait to get two of my guys into bed together again.
That thought sends my mind back to that moment in the hospital, when Colt and Weston were both inside my pussy, their hard shafts rubbing against one another …
The thought tries to skip away from me as I crash through another screaming orgasm, but I snatch it back, grabbing on and holding it tight until my climax subsides.
"Weston," I pant, arching my neck to look at him. "I want to try something."
"Huh?" he replies, looking dazed with sweat running down his forehead.
"I want to try something," I repeat, wiggling out from under him and rolling onto my back. It's a crazy strange sensation, moving around with that massive plug in my ass, but I'd be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
"What are you doing?" he asks, looking all dazed and sexed up and high as fuck. "Aw, you don't like that?" He’s eyeing the sparkly purple butt plug as I pull it slowly from my ass, moaning all the while.
"I fucking love it," I reply with total honesty, "but I want to use it on you."
He blinks at me. Then laughs. Then frowns. Then shrugs.
"Fuck it, why not."
Weston nudges me out of the way and takes up a position on all fours in the middle of the bed. Logically, I know it's the drugs loosening up his inhibitions, but also, I'm pretty sure he'd let Colt fuck him if given the chance.
"Awesome," I giggle, hunting around for the bottle of lube and squeezing a generous amount on the plug. Then an equally generous amount on Weston's asshole. I figure, no such thing as too much lube when it comes to anal play, right?
Who the hell knows, I'm new to this. But hopefully I'll be a quick study because I'm practically gushing at the thought of taking all five team members at once.
"Have you ever let someone screw your ass before, Weston?" I ask, massaging the lube into his flesh and teasing him with the tip of my finger. Thank fuck I've taken to keeping my nails short, or that wouldn't be anywhere near as fun for him.
His breath hitches as I wiggle a finger inside. "No," he breathes. "Never."
"But you've thought about it," I say with total certainty.
Weston starts to protest, but his words cut off when I start pushing the plug into him. "Holy fuck," he exclaims at some point, and I grin. I know exactly what he means. "Holy shit, Natalia …" he trails off into mumbled incoherent noises, but his fists ball in the sheets and his hips hitch higher, encouraging me to keep going.
"Do you love it?" I ask him, breathless and panting with excitement myself when the toy is fully inserted. Just the flared end is left out—no one wants to go finishing around for lost toys—but I can't stop staring. Staring and imagining it was someone's cock instead.
Weston makes a strangled sound, but nods into the pillows.
"I knew it," I whisper, feeling all kinds of satisfied.
"I’m rolling over,” he says suddenly, voice strained with need, but also underwritten with a thread of dominance. “You’re going to suck my cock."
I don’t need to be told twice; Weston shifts onto his back and groans as the plug rubs him in all the right places. His pierced cock is already slick and salty with pre-cum when I take him in my mouth, and within seconds he's coming with a roaring scream while I swallow greedily.
When he's finally done, and his fingers release my hair, I sit back with a smug grin, licking my lips.
"Tastes like victory," I tease him, wiping a stray droplet from my cheek.
Weston's eyes narrow. "I'll fucking show you victory, gorgeous." He pounces at me, rolling me over and spreading my legs around his face. "We've got all night."
He doesn't take the plug out of his ass until we're both boneless heaps, smoking a stolen joint from Colt's room.
Chapter 8
Natalia
The sharp sound of Hawke's coffee mug slamming down on the kitchen table makes me flinch, and I rub at my temples. He's been in rare form all morning, and he’s officially on my last nerve.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" I snap at him, channelling all my hungover foul mood into my glare. "Anywhere but here, perhaps?"
Arsen lets out a low whistle, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of me. "Careful, angel, attitude like that could earn you a spanking from bossman."
No one is spared my hangover. "What do you care?" I snarl up at him, which isn't hard given how he leans over my chair. He's wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts and a frilly apron, his demon wing tattoos on full display, but he's firmly on my shit list for denying me so many orgasms lately. I didn't notice how badly I'd needed that release until Weston had given it to me. Over and over and over until I quite literally passed out.
Not from the alcohol, either. From orgasm overload.
"What do I care?" Arsen quips, stepping back and looking at me from those pale blue eyes of his like I've lost my damn mind. He slams the spatula into the palm of his hand like he wishes he was hitting me with it instead. "I don't care at all, except for the fact that if you hadn't been a part of that mess last night, he'd have already halved Weston's and Colt's pay for the month and made them scrub this shitty, old house with toothbrushes. But because you were involved, where's the punishment? Nothing except for him snarling and griping and stomping around like a pussy-whipped little bitch."
"Shut your fucking mouth, Arsen, and make me some goddamn pancakes." Hawke looks at his—err, friend?—like he's this close to strangling him. "How I handle my recruits is none of your business."
"Only it is when it's quite obvious that you're not playing fair," Arsen growls back, and I notice he slips a tiny bottle from the front pocket of his apron and attempts to add a little something extra to the pancake mix. Hawke notices, too, and grabs his wrist so hard that I'm not sure it isn't broken.
"Do not test me today with your psycho bullshit." Hawke tears the bottle from Arsen's hand and scowls at the label. "Laxative, really? How goddamn juvenile. Did you put some of this in Natalia's food as well?"
"Seeing you shit your pants would've been funny, not so much in the woman I'm fucking three or four times a day." Arsen lets this information slither past his lips like a curse, enjoying the shocked look on Hawke's face. It only lasts a split-second before he schools it away, but I saw it. Guess he didn't know about all
my secret rendezvous with Arsen, huh?
"If you were so pissed last night, why didn't you confront us when we got back?" I challenge, trying to distract our fearless leader from Arsen's words. I meet Hawke's gray eyes, swirling like a tempest, and I try not to feel intimidated.
Only … maybe I am, just a little.
Last night was a good reminder that even with months of hard training under my belt, I'm not a god. I have a long way to go. And even then, it'll never truly be a fair fight between me and some mountain of a man with tree trunks for arms.
I should've taken a knife last night. And a gun.
Hawke slams a palm down on the table, shaking my plate of pancakes and knocking a piece of bacon off the side. I pick it up and put it to my lips, keeping my gaze focused straight ahead instead of on his face.
"Do you know who that man was last night? The one you ended up in the bathroom with?" I flick a surprised glance over at Hawke, and find his hard, chiseled jaw clenched so tight it looks like his teeth might shatter into shards. He knows everything then, does he? I wonder who told him. Not Weston, not after offering to cheat on their stupid little bet. Colt then? "The vice president of Shady Cove Motorcycle Club, the very club our client has asked us to investigate." My gaze slips over to Arsen, seeking ... well, not help exactly, but like the enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, right?" Oh, and before you think your nutcase of a lover is all on your side, remember that he followed you guys last night and reported back to me like a good little soldier." Hawke growls this last bit out with the clear intention of enraging Arsen.
It works.
He tosses the pan with the half-cooked pancakes on the ground, flips the batter all over the stove, and storms out of the room. I'm surprised he doesn't pull a gun again and try to shoot Hawke in the head.
"Why am I not getting paid like everybody else?" I blurt, hating the way the tension in the room is building, and seemingly helpless to break it. I give him an accusatory look, but it's like glaring at a wall of steel. Well, a wall of steel might have more emotion …