Salsa Nights

by Salsa Nights (lit)

  Oh, those hands on me. Four big, strong hands.

  Nik had teased her for dreaming about threesomes with them, but so what? She saw it at Club Lava, and it was so raw, so carnal. Her other hand pressed her clit and circled the sensitive nub until sparks went off in her belly. She slid another finger in her pussy now, yeah, a thick cock pushing inside, fucking her.

  Her back arched, and water cooled her flushed face. She’d love to taste the other dick, big and swollen in her mouth. She licked her lips. They’d grab her hair, hold her hips, pump her full with every inch of their cocks. Their muscles would strain, they’d call out her name. Oh, yes. Isabel came, her pussy fluttering in spasms. She breathed fast and leaned her forehead on the wet, cold tile.

  Damn, how she wanted them. From the first time she saw them playing tag football in their front lawn when she was eleven, she’d fantasized about them noticing her. She’d hoped to become a woman they’d find as attractive as they found the girls they romanced poolside.

  She’d looked forward to Sunday lunch at her grandfather’s just to take a look at those college boys. And when she heard the story of “those good kids, Brad and Dale” helping her grandfather decorate his house for Christmas, she scrawled their names on every notepad in her bedroom.

  When her father prohibited her mom from going back to her grandfather’s, she’d been sixteen and heartbroken. She missed Grandpa, and she could no longer secretly watch the hotties next door. She’d never stopped dreaming about them, wondering if they still lived in that two-story beachfront house, if they were still as gorgeous. Well, she could stop wondering about the second part.

  Click. It was soft, but she heard it. Her eyes flew open, and she shut off the water. Thump. Something, someone was outside her bedroom in the living room area. Her heart caught in her throat.

  She pulled the curtain open and grabbed her pink satin robe. Not bothering to towel off, water splattered around her feet and plastered the thin material to her wet skin. Slowly, she opened the door. Her moss-green bedroom was dimly lit, the scented candle casting soft shadows on her walls. She stepped out and looked around, nervously eyeing each corner of her room. Satisfied, she took a deep breath and headed for the hallway. Maybe it was the neighbor’s cat outside again.

  A light drizzle fell outside, and the sweet smell of rain tickled her nose. The scent was too strong. She stepped lightly on the balls of her feet, padding away any sound on the white tiled floor. The house was dark, save for the kitchen light she left on, which now provided the only light for her to see.

  Damn it. She hadn’t grabbed anything she could use as a weapon. Straight ahead at the end of the hallway, behind the closed door, was her office. She turned right, toward the rest of the house, and looked out at the rattan furniture in the living room. Nothing. The front door to the far right was closed. The kitchen opposite her seemed normal, as was the hallway to the left that led to Nik’s room.

  But the sound of rain now fell in a crescendo. Her hair fluttered and her heart stopped. She was terrified to look. But she did. The sliding glass door to the backyard on her far left was open. She knew she’d closed it tonight. It was ajar enough that a person could easily walk through.

  Tears pooled in her eyes, her mouth dried, and the bottom seemed to fall from her belly. In the corner of her eye she caught something. A movement. In the hallway to Nik’s room stood a tall masked man staring back at her.

  Blasted with paralyzing fear, she screamed until her lungs hurt and her throat burned. A crash to her right made her jump, and she saw a man barreling into her house. Brad. A second later, he pinned the masked man with a wild glare and took off running after him. But the man was fast, sprinting out the back before Brad could catch him.

  Isabel shook hard, now covering her mouth and fighting jelly knees that threatened to buckle. Someone held her and whispered softly in her ear, and she let it out, crying quietly into a solid, muscled chest. Strong, protective arms helped her to her couch where she hid her face in her hands and leaned her elbows on her knees.

  “Are you okay?”

  He was here, in my house, watching. Waiting. Oh, God.

  She’d been all alone and playing with herself in the shower. Someone had invaded her home. Her home. What if he had gotten to her? What if Brad hadn’t come tearing through her front door? Brad. Why had he been outside?

  That one of the men she’d pictured touching her, kissing her, and was responsible for yet another orgasm was here rescuing her was surreal and thrilling. It was actually heroic and romantic. Still, the pleasure of an indulgent moment and the fear of being killed left her immobile and shocked.

  “Isabel? Are you okay?”

  She nodded, not sure if she could speak, and wiped her tears away.

  “He ran out the other side of the house, I couldn’t catch him.” Brad announced acidly, entering through the same sliding door. “How is she?”

  “Shaken up, but not hurt,” Dale replied.

  “Okay, you’re moving in with us,” Brad stated. “Let’s go pack.”

  Her head snapped up at the matter-of-fact, remark. Brad waited, hands on hips, by the hallway to her bedroom. Dale got up and stood in front of her, arms crossed, giving her the same blank expression.

  Were they serious? She was grateful for the way they’d come barging into her home and saved her, but they couldn’t just order her around. Actually, she was bouncing on puffy clouds, elated that the same two guys she’d fawned over her entire adolescent years were her heroes, but still, did they need to be so bossy?

  She found she could speak now. “What? I can’t move in with you.”

  “You can, and you will,” Dale told her sternly.

  “No! This is ridiculous. I’ve been on my own long enough. I just forgot to lock the door and set the alarm, that’s all. I was tired. It won’t happen again.” She looked from one to the other hoping one would see reason.

  Brad crossed his arms and nodded. “You’re right, it won’t. No one will try to hurt you in our house. Now, let’s pack.”

  This is too much. She hadn’t fully recovered from her very private, very orgasmic moment in the shower, and now she was being ordered about, in her home, by the very men who’d she’d fantasized about in the shower.

  Isabel rose to her feet a bit wobbly, but, not wanting another reason for these brutes to think she couldn’t be left alone, she did a good job of hiding her trembling knees behind the robe.

  “Look, I don’t know why the hell you both think you have this responsibility to watch over me. For all I know, you’re working with the guy. I mean, what the hell were you doing just outside my house,” she pointed at her broken front door, “to have heard me scream? You destroy my property, then order me to move in with you? You’re crazy.”

  Brad took a step toward her, then stopped abruptly. “Look, Isabel, let’s just say we owe your grandfather a favor so we are just watching over you. Now, pack your things up before I do it for you. And trust me, sweetheart, I’ll only look for the skimpiest lingerie for you to lounge around in all day.”

  The unexpected words dried her mouth but wet her pussy. It had the most deliciously wicked ring to it, sitting around in nothing but a bra and panty all day long in their home. Her instant physical reaction was even more shocking than his threat. If only he knew just how very much she liked his threat.

  She cocked her head to the side and propped her fists on her hips. “Oh, really? A favor? You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

  “No. Not until I tell you that your grandfather gave us the title to the building that houses Salsa Nights. In case you didn’t believe he willingly gave it to us at the time of his death, he drew something on the back of it. A butterfly. He said you’d know what that meant, and I’ll be glad to show it to you, except I didn’t think to bring it along with us tonight. It’s being held by BD Corporation until your thirtieth birthday. Guess what that stands for?”

  Isabel had stopped breathing a few seconds ago. This
was really too much for one night. They owned her building? Her grandfather gave them the title? The butterfly. She remembered the butterfly pin he sent her on her eighteenth birthday, a few weeks before his sudden death. He wrote on the card that it signified her blossoming into a woman and moving on into the world. But why did he just give the title away?

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered, looking at Brad, then at Dale.

  “Well, we’d love to explain more, but there’s no time right now,” Dale gently replied.

  Brad stepped closer, and Isabel shook her head stubbornly. “I’m not going, and that’s final. Please, just leave,” she told them as bravely as she could.

  “Fine, Ms. Santos. You now owe us rent at triple the price your neighbors pay per square foot, and it’s due next week.” Brad threw it at her so casually she thought he was joking, until his lack of emotion reminded her who she was talking to—the blue-eyed jerk.

  “You can’t do that. That’s blackmail. You know damn well living with two men is just- it’s-”

  Brad took the final step that brought him inches from her budding nipples.

  “An experience you just may enjoy.”

  Isabel wanted to slap him, she really did, but the change this conversation had suddenly taken had her hot, curious, and very distracted. If she leaned forward just a hair, her peaks would caress his chest. His cool, fresh-scented cologne cloaked her, mesmerized her. The chill that always rimmed his eyes had warmed, darkened, and sucked her in. He was so damn masculine, her arousal meter topped ten.

  But of course, they didn’t know she wanted both of them simultaneously. God, they’d probably think she was slutty or trampy. No good girl would dream of being caressed and stroked by two male gods. But she did dream about it, a lot, and she was, always had been, a good girl. She realized it was important to her what they thought of her. Still, what chance did she ever have of being with them if she didn’t somehow let them know of these dark desires?

  What made her even think they’d do that sort of thing with her? What made her think he was talking about anything sexual to begin with? He was just teasing her, probably still seeing her like the scrawny kid she once was. That’s why his face was so inscrutable and his eyes as arrogant as earlier today. And why was she even thinking about sex with them when they obviously just wanted to order her around as a favor to her grandfather? Uh, I’m such an idiot.

  “You have no idea what I’d enjoy, but I promise you, it doesn’t include you Neanderthals.” She hoped her clipped words sounded more convincing to them than they did to her own ears.

  His gaze roamed her face, traced every curve, and lingered over her slightly parted mouth. Damn him, his very presence tested her moral code. She felt the warmth of his breath wash her face, zapping every one of her nerves. She could feel a slow pulse bang against her clit. Hungry for his touch, she licked her lips.

  “I’m a man of my word, Isabel, and so is my friend. I will honor the promise I made Thomas to protect you from harm, no matter how much you want to fight us. And I will answer any further questions and ease any doubts you have when I see you safe in our house, but not until then. You will stay with us until we tell you you can return here. Otherwise, you’d better add a few classes to your schedule so you can pay the new rent. You have two minutes to pack, or I will throw you over my shoulder, as we Neanderthals love to do, and all you’ll have to wear, for however long you are in our house, is that damn flimsy robe.”

  She didn’t doubt he was dead serious. She also didn’t wish to test his counting skills. Damn it, why the hell did her grandfather pick these two macho pigs? Why did she believe she was safe with them? Well, because they weren’t interested in banging her brains out like she wished they were doing right now.

  With a haughty tilt of her chin, she stomped to her room, grabbed a bag from her closet, and proceeded to throw clothes into it without even really seeing what she was taking. All she could see were the two faces of the men she’d grown up drooling over, wondering how she never noticed just how intolerable they were. They were obviously used to getting their way if they could just demand she move in with them or give her an inflated rent.

  Well, they certainly made it easier for her because now she didn’t have to worry about wanting both of them. It was better this way, to hate them. Yes, much better.

  She grabbed a couple of her sexiest dresses, telling herself it was for work. After all, she had to show her female students how to dance in something other than yoga pants or leotards.

  Now all she had to do was deal with the way her body reacted anytime either one was near. No problem. Hell, if she could compete with a sprained ankle, she could certainly ignore sexual attraction. She’d just focus on the anger, on the Neanderthals, on how they could toss her over their shoulders and drop her on satin sheets, rip her clothes off and tie her to the bed. Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re such an idiot!

  * * * *

  “I don’t know how I’ll be able to stand being near that woman without losing my mind,” Brad grumbled as he paced the living room and raked both hands through his hair.

  His friend stood by the patio sliding door, ensuring no one made a second appearance, which was highly unlikely, but it gave Dale something to do.

  After seeing Isabel’s nipples pucker wet against the robe, Brad’s crotch had nearly burst the zipper.

  The sight of her pink tongue dab her luscious mouth, however, had sent Brad to hell and back, soaked in sin, dripping with painful lust, and burning with a passion that had nearly driven him to possessing her right then and there.

  She was like no other. He didn’t need to taste her to know that simple fact. He’d seen plenty of naked women to be able to stand around them and not fall apart. But this woman did more than that. She broke him down and built him up to a more lustful, animalistic version of himself in the time it took her to take one small breath.

  He walked to the couch and grabbed a red throw pillow to treat like Play-Doh but found a black lace bra. He lifted it gently, imagining his fingers unclasping it from her back, freeing one, then the other large mound he’d then tease with his lips. Brad swallowed. He closed his eyes, brought the piece of lingerie to his nose, and breathed in the perfume it carried in its memory. Mangoes and coconuts. Exotic and sticky. He could taste her. Fuck.

  While she argued with him he had visions of her on all fours, her hair whipping across her small back as he fucked her ass.

  Brad seriously debated jacking off to her tropical scent, rubbing the silk over his rod, but that wouldn’t go over very well when she came out carrying her bags.

  Coming to his senses, he dropped the bra and the pillow back on the couch and stepped into the hallway by the kitchen. This was where the man had stood when he’d kicked the door down. Her scream had impaled him in the chest, and he cursed the seconds it took them to jump out of the truck and run inside. Fear had gripped him, and he saw blood red, not knowing what he’d find. He only knew he’d tear the motherfucker apart who dared to come near Isabel.

  The bastard ran fast, too, for a tall man. He’d disappeared down the side street by the time Brad ran across the living room and dining room to the sliding door. But they’d catch him. He knew they would. Something told him this one wasn’t done yet.

  “He was the one who killed Gina,” Dale told him quietly so Isabel wouldn’t hear.

  Brad turned to Dale and nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. And he was here for Nik. We need to ask Isabel where she went and tell her to advise her friend to stay away.”

  Devin had informed them yesterday that he’d seen Nik load luggage into her car before work, and only Isabel came home last night.

  “What do you think is going on?”

  Brad looked toward the hallway in the direction of Isabel’s bedroom. “Whatever it is, let’s hope we can keep her safe.”

  Chapter Four

  Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.

  Dale offered to drive Isabel’s car to thei
r house while Brad drove behind them to make sure no one followed. While Dale was sweet enough to try some small talk with her, Isabel soon let him know she wasn’t interested. They spent the remainder of the twenty-minute drive to their house in silence.

  How could she have any sort of normality in her life now, when she was being forced to move in with two—two—mega-testosterone-loaded men?

  Never mind they were the first men she sexually fantasized about, dreamed about, and gushed over for years. No one had ever matched their looks, their sensuality, or their masculinity. Not even close. The only man she’d ever slept with had been handsome, but never exuded the raw power these two did. That same man had also used her to win a bet with his friends—who could sleep with the Latin Dance champion? So no matter how good looking he’d been, he was a monster. And broke her heart.

  She’d waited a long time to have sex. She’d wanted to secure her championship, finish her education, and kick-start her dance studio. Rick had been a dancer she met at different events, and Isabel thought he was the sweetest man she’d met. It had been instant, mutual attraction, so when she drank the last glass of champagne at her celebration party at the hotel, it was Rick she allowed a kiss.

  Before she knew it, they were upstairs in her hotel room having sex and, naively, she assumed he’d see her again. But on her way out of the shower, she heard his self-accolades on the phone with someone, bragging about winning the disgusting bet.

  She threw him out and never heard from him again. She hadn’t even seen him at the meets they usually each attended. That he’d try so hard to run into her before they had sex and then totally avoided her after, made her feel so used and ashamed.

  Heart shattered, she drowned herself in work at Salsa Nights and had only been out with two guys with whom Nik had set her up. She kindly let them down by the second sip of her water during their first lunch dates and drove back to work. She realized men saw the image she portrayed on the dance floor—passionate, sensual, erotic—but nothing deeper.