Monkey Business

by Tymber Dalton

She wouldn’t complain about that in the slightest.

  “You gotta teach me how to shoot,” she gasped when Tango let her come up for air again. “I need to know how to fight. How to defend myself. I can’t be dead weight.”

  “We’ll teach you,” Doc promised. “Not just the two of us but all of us. That’s where the brotherhood comes in.”

  “We don’t need to worry about it tonight,” Tango said. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”

  They guided her toward the bed, holding her, kissing her, their hands warm and knowing against her flesh.

  Shoving everything else out of her mind, she gave herself over to them completely, wanting nothing more than tonight to last forever.

  For them to last forever.

  Doc lifted the hem of her T-shirt, Tango helping him strip it off her. Tango unhooked her bra as Doc cupped her breasts in his hands. When he ran the pads of his thumbs over her nipples, the jolt it sent to her clit made her draw in a sharp breath.

  He smiled. “Like that?”

  She tried to nod, but Tango had kissed her again.

  With his fingers playing with her right nipple, Doc bent his head and engulfed her left nipple with the wet heat of his mouth. Fortunately, Tango’s mouth covering hers helped muffle the sound of her moan.

  Holy crap that feels good!

  If her mind hadn’t already been made up, the searing pleasure flipping her soul upside down would have done the trick. She was a smart enough woman to know that denying herself these two men would be a damn stupid move.

  The two of them eased her down to the bed as they stood over her and yanked off their shirts, letting them drop to the floor.

  Yes, they were in great shape. Light golden curls covered Tango’s chest, while a dusting of dark hair led down Doc’s torso to a treasure trail that disappeared beneath his belt.

  “Where are your tats?” she asked.

  The men smiled and turned. They both had the same tattoo Papa did, only in a different location. The men had gotten them square in the center of their backs, over their spines and a few inches down from the base of their necks.

  They turned back around. “You want to stare at our ink all night, babe?” Tango asked. “Because that’s kind of a letdown.” He smiled.

  She smiled back and crooked her finger at them to come hither.

  Large bulges pressed against the fronts of their pants. Both men wore equally seductive smiles. Apparently, not only did they build ’em big in Texas, Washington state did their homeboys justice, too.

  “Just to get it straight,” Doc said. “We don’t fuck around and we expect the same. You’re ours. You don’t want that, say so now.”

  “I want it,” she said. “I want both of you. And only you two.”

  The men’s smiles widened to grins as they both started working at their belts.

  “I think we’re both gonna owe you an apology the first time around, sugar,” Tango said. “Don’t know about him, but I suspect I won’t be able to hold out long once I’m inside you.”

  “Don’t worry,” Doc assured her. “We’ll both make it up to you the second round.”

  “I’m sure you will. Now quit monkeying around and get naked.”

  They’d been barefoot. They shoved their pants and briefs down and stepped out of them, leaving their stiff cocks the focus of her attention.

  She felt her throat go dry. They were both generous, bigger than she’d had in the past, at least eight inches each.

  Oh, hell yeah.

  “Like what you see?” Tango drawled. “Warned ya.”

  She nodded, because speaking involved engaging her brain again and she wasn’t sure she could do that. Thinking was an iffy enough proposition at that point.

  Tango reached down and started working on her belt while Doc grabbed her right foot and pulled her sneaker off, followed by her sock.

  “You’ve got too many clothes on, darlin’,” Tango teased. “Need to get you naked.”

  Doc got her other shoe and sock off and it only took them seconds to divest her of her jeans and panties.

  Great. I had to wear the old ones today. No, couldn’t have worn cute ones. At least I trimmed the bush.

  Of course the men didn’t seem to mind. Doc nudged her legs apart with his, stepping between her thighs and forcing them farther apart. He reached down and stroked his cock, squeezing it at the head, every vein standing out as he reached the base again.

  Tango climbed onto the bed. “Maybe I want this first,” he said with a smile. “Take the edge off my tension a little. What do you say?”

  Even as she was nodding, her mouth was opening, wide, ready to take his cock between her lips. He moved closer, his fingers encircling the base.

  Doc’s fingers gently slipped between her legs, parting her pussy lips, finding her cunt wet and ready for them. “You do want us, don’t you?” he asked.

  She couldn’t answer because she already had her lips wrapped around the head of Tango’s cock. Tango cradled her head in his hands, supporting her, guiding his cock deeper over her tongue with slow, short strokes she could only imagine would feel even better when it was her pussy he was fucking.

  Doc ran his fingers up and down her clit, drawing a moan from her. “There’s the sweet spot. Right there.” He knelt between her legs. “Maybe I should be a gentleman and let you come first before we fuck your brains out.” With both hands he parted her, leaning in and running his tongue up her exposed clit.

  Her eyes fell closed as a long moan rolled from her. Daaammmnn he knew what to do with his mouth!

  Tango’s strokes grew faster, deeper as he gauged how far she could take him. “Fuck yeah,” he grunted. “Keep doing that to her, Doc. Baby, play with my balls.”

  She reached between his legs and palmed his sac, loving the way they felt in her hand, the texture of his hair against her palm.

  Doc was just getting started, apparently. He settled in, sliding two fingers deep inside her as he flicked her clit with his tongue.

  Her body trembled as the fire raced through her, need, desire, pleasure way more intense than she’d felt with other lovers.

  “There you go,” Tango urged. “Let yourself go. We got you. Come for us, baby.”

  Then Doc twisted his hand, hooking his fingers up as he found her G-spot and pressed.

  The resulting explosion made her glad her mouth was full of Tango’s cock to muffle the sound of her scream.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” Tango said, easing his cock in deeper. “There you go. Make all the noise you want.”

  Now that Doc knew he had the right spot, he went after her clit with even more vigor, sucking and licking, his fingers relentlessly massaging that sweet spot inside her the whole time. He kept her rolling through waves of passion she didn’t know she’d be able to survive at that rate.

  Even when she tried to reach down with her free hand and push Doc’s head away, Tango grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing her palm. “No, baby. You keep coming. We like the sound of it. Besides, I love the way you’re moaning around my cock.”

  Only after Doc was satisfied he’d made her come long enough did he relent. He stood, and she’d barely had time to catch her breath before he swiped his cock up and down through her juices before sliding it inside her.

  That pulled another moan out of her as he filled her, stretching her, settling in deeper than she’d ever had another man before. He grabbed her legs and raised them over his shoulders, his thighs pressed against the backs of hers.

  “There you go, baby,” Doc said. “Now I won’t feel guilty when I pound my cock into you and come without you.”

  He started fucking her, slowly at first, every stroke feeling so damn good even as the last vibrations of her own orgasms were still rolling through her. Tango fucked her mouth, the men finding a rhythm.

  Tango let go of her hand and reached between her legs. “Let’s see if we can at least get you moaning again.” He rolled her clit between his thumb and finger. She was ab
out to moan a protest, that there was no way, but with Doc picking up the pace and slamming his cock into her, damned if she didn’t tip over the edge again.

  “Yeah,” Doc grunted. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re so tight and you’re squeezing my cock.”

  “Suck my cock,” Tango urged. “Come on, take us at both ends. We’re going to keep you so full of cock you won’t ever want another man but the two of us.”

  She didn’t doubt it. This orgasm wasn’t as powerful as the wave of them Doc had forced from her with his mouth and hand, but it still felt damn good. In her palm, she felt Tango’s balls tense up, drawing tighter against his body, getting ready to empty his load.

  “I’m close,” Doc warned.

  “Don’t wait on me,” Tango said.

  Celia let the pleasure wash over her, the sounds of their flesh slapping together, the scent of their lovemaking mixing and filling the room, the taste of Tango’s cock hardening against her tongue as pre-cum slid down her throat.

  Doc took a few last, hard strokes, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held on, his eyes falling closed as he buried his cock deep inside her. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s it, baby.”

  Tango’s fingers dug into her scalp. “Get ready,” he warned as he slid his cock deep into her mouth. She swallowed fast, taking every last hot drop of cum he pumped down her throat until he finally started to soften in her mouth.

  Doc carefully lowered her legs and leaned in, kissing her stomach before he crawled up onto the bed next to her and stretched out.

  Tango pulled his softening cock from her mouth, leaning in and kissing her before he stretched out on her other side. He propped himself up on his arm and looked down at her, one eyebrow deliciously arched.

  “Good?”

  She nodded, tucking her head against his chest. “Great,” she mumbled, already sliding toward sleep.

  Doc laced fingers with her. “Love you, baby.”

  She turned her head, giving him a kiss. “Love you.” She looked up at Tango and his playful smile. “Love you, too.” It didn’t feel too soon to say it.

  It felt perfect.

  Tango kissed her. “Love you. Guess we wore you out, huh?”

  “In the good kind of way,” she admitted.

  “Then I think we all need a little nap before round two.” Doc pressed his body against hers, the warmth from his flesh washing through her. The room felt a little on the chilly side, the heat not on in the house. “Then maybe we can squeeze in the shower together before we have to go back out there and face the big bad world again.”

  Oh. Reality calling. “Do you really think Dr. Quong will be able to fix this?”

  “We can’t think any other way,” Tango said. “Not just because it’s our mission, but because I don’t feel like having my time with you cut short because of TMFU. I choose to believe we can actively make a difference.”

  “Ditto,” Doc said.

  As she settled in to nap between her two hunky monkeys, she closed her eyes and hoped they were right.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hannibal Silo settled back in the seat as his driver took him home from his office. Today, he’d filmed four different half-hour television shows that would air over the next two weeks. He’d worn a different change of clothes for each one, so as to fool people into thinking they were filmed at different times.

  People were so gullible like that. They truly were.

  He and his team had carefully crafted the messages, each one sounding more urgent, designed to reflect the growing Kite threat.

  The sheeple didn’t need to know when they were filmed. Only that the message was clear—repent, now, and let Rev. Silo and his Church of the Rising Sunset show the way to true salvation.

  Oh, and send money, because an apocalypse is expensive.

  He smiled as he stared out the window. That was not how they phrased it, of course. But that was what the message boiled down to.

  And it tickled him every time when they went over weekly revenues correlating to shows. Sometimes, especially lately, the little thirty-minute shows did better than the regular hour-long Sunday services when figuring return on investment.

  It seemed people had less attention spans, or wanted faster salvation, with such a dire threat knocking at their doors.

  Even the flu epidemics that cycled over the past several decades hadn’t triggered this kind of cash flow. Before, those diseases had little more than an average impact on Americans. It was other countries—third-world countries—that suffered the most. Out of sight, out of mind, change the TV channel if the news was too depressing. Even the anthrax attacks in Los Angeles hadn’t garnered these consistent levels of donations.

  This…

  Praise the crazy Chinese and pass the soy sauce. Hallelujah, amen.

  The sight of mushroom clouds blossoming twenty-four-seven across people’s TVs as news reports flooded in had shaken even the most stalwart of scoffers into thinking this might be different. The financial markets had taken a massive crash—which, of course, only affected the average man’s 401k plan. It didn’t bother the super-rich, who had already planned for such a contingency, albeit not realizing it would be so drastic, and had sell orders in place so they didn’t lose their fortunes.

  Or who were smart enough not to play the stock market in the first place.

  Tonight he would have a detailed conversation with Dr. Isley, get preparations started for their eventual move to the Missouri compound.

  He was already working on plans for fifteen other compounds, in areas where they had large congregations—and donations. Secure compounds where he could go visit his flock as the Kite virus finally made it to America’s shores in numbers that health officials could no longer contain.

  It was only a matter of time. He’d guarantee that.

  They’d started construction on all of them, had finished initial construction on four of them, and would complete three more in less than two weeks. When completed, these compounds would be well-stocked, fortified, and protected self-contained places of refuge.

  They were also a crucial part of his plan. He would eventually reinstate a new world order. Including a new wife in each stronghold.

  That was the part he was looking forward to the most, truth be told.

  Hell, it gave him a chubby just thinking about it.

  He didn’t have any children with Mary, thinking ahead and getting her tubes tied years ago when he first had her started on her pharmaceutical regimen. Wouldn’t do for him to have any kids that were deformed because of the strong cocktail of drugs he used to keep her docile.

  Not like she deserved to bear his children anyway.

  Especially considering he knew she’d wanted to have children.

  Hell, he’d shown her. Taught her back in college. Taught her well when she’d laughed at him and turned him down the first time he’d asked her for a date after weeks of helping her study.

  Taught her that no one ridiculed him or told him no when he wanted something.

  They’d been in a business class together. He’d exceled, even though she’d struggled. She was nice to him as long as she wanted something from him, but all he’d wanted was to take her out on a date.

  He’d done her a favor by marrying her. She’d been from an extremely wealthy, very conservative Christian family, old money. He’d been a business major attending on a charity scholarship because he’d flunked his military physicals.

  And now he was the head of a global religious empire.

  She was lucky he’d married her.

  The driver pulled up to the gate and punched the remote control button to open it. The car, a large, older Chevy sedan, served two purposes. For starters, it gave people the impression that he wasn’t squandering their donations on trinkets. Secondly, it blended in well. It was hard to be inconspicuous in a limousine.

  For all his wishful thinking of fancy SUVs, it was far easier to stay with the basics.

  Even their home
wasn’t garishly huge or ornate, other than the large fence and gate for their privacy and security.

  When the driver pulled up to the front door and parked, he quickly got out and opened the back door with a friendly smile. “Home again, Reverend.”

  “Home again, Henry. Thank you, as always, and God bless you.”

  Henry nodded. “And you, Reverend.” Henry got back in and pulled around to the detached garage on the side, where he’d park Silo’s car and retrieve his own and go home. Henry had been with him over twenty years, and was loyal.

  Silo had also been very careful not to screw up and do anything in front of the man that would lessen his view of his employer. As far as Henry knew, Rev. Silo had a soul as pure as the morning sunlight.

  Sheeple.

  Well, that was the image he wanted people to see. The image that had taken him this far in life. Had served him well, settled many scores, and was about to set him on an even higher trajectory than he’d ever dreamed possible before.

  I’ll move the White House to Missouri. I don’t think there’s a law that says the President must live in Washington DC.

  If there was, he’d make sure to get it changed, ASAP.

  When he unlocked the front door and walked inside, their current day nurse, Ellen—no, Elise—looked around the corner and smiled. “Good evening, Reverend.”

  “Good evening, dear.” He offered her a smile. “How was she today?”

  “Good, as always. She was quiet. Watched a few cartoons on TV. Ate a good lunch.”

  “Excellent.” He reached out, took her hand, and patted it in a fatherly manner. “You are such a sweet woman and take such good care of her for me. God bless you.”

  “Thank you, Reverend. She’s the best patient I’ve ever had.”

  The truth was, Elise was only the latest in a long line of nurses. He never kept one on longer than six months. That was almost too long, in his opinion.

  The less time a nurse spent there, the less likely she was to raise questions about his wife and her condition.

  He’d learned that lesson early on in their marriage, when behind his back a nurse had experimented with not giving his wife her drugs while he’d been out of town on a trip. Mary had become coherent enough to start asking the woman to please rescue her, take her someplace safe.