Swinger Style: Hot Rods, Book 5

by Jayne Rylon

  With a smirk, she reached into the open V of his jeans to cup his balls. He hissed and leaned forward, granting her better access. She loved that he trusted her, to put himself so fully at her control. Though she lay under him, she had all the power.

  When she raised her head to lick the tip of his cock, he grunted.

  Her mouth had barely closed around the smooth tip when someone shouted from the garage below. She froze with his cock poking the barest bit between her parted lips.

  “Don’t stop now, Sabra.” He urged her forward with a sure grip he’d taken by burying his fingers in her hair. Supporting her neck, he urged her to feast on his erection. “The guys are downstairs, working. They don’t know or care about us and what we’re doing.”

  A stray thought crossed her mind. What if they did?

  This time she opened wider and invited Holden deeper into her mouth. The taste of his precome inspired her to taunt him, suckling as she took more and more of him. There was a lot to fit, but she wasn’t about to complain.

  “Damn, that’s good,” he growled above her. “What has you so hungry? Maybe it’s the thought of the rest of the gang?”

  His question sounded more hopeful than accusatory.

  Granting him some relief, she increased the suction on his shaft and fluttered her tongue along the sensitive underside of his cock head. She hoped the gesture communicated more than her greed for his body.

  “Really?” He didn’t miss her signal. “You like the idea of the guys knowing what we’re up to? Maybe I should text one of them to come up here and see how hot you are in person?”

  Holden drew his phone from his pocket, cradling it in one palm. He swiped his thumb across the screen. “You’d better tell me now if this is some kind of fantasy that’s hot to think about but not one you actually want to bring to life.”

  She smiled around his shaft, taking all of him this time.

  He tossed his head back with a gurgle of delight.

  “Swinger?”

  Both of them froze, then broke apart in a hurry.

  “I swear I didn’t send that message.” Holden’s stare whipped to hers as he tried to stuff himself into his pants. Not for his sake, but for hers, she was sure. Boot steps on the metal stairs approached. “I was only teasing you. Or maybe testing you. I didn’t think you’d be ready for that yet. If ever. I’m not trying to pressure you. Just wondered what you thought. If you’d thought about it at all yet. Being together, there are possibilities… I didn’t plan to force you into those situations, though. Not so soon, when we’re still figuring things out. ”

  “I believe you. For the record, you were turning me on.” She discreetly wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as Carver crested the deck.

  “Are you serious?” Holden asked, brushing the pad of his thumb over her damp lips.

  She didn’t have time to respond before Carver joined them.

  A single look at their flushed faces and Holden’s half-dressed state and Meep knew the score. He pivoted on his heel and made to leave. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Sorry. Just call me Captain Interruptus today. Son of a bitch.”

  “Meep, it’s fine. Come here,” Holden called to his friend.

  “I should have realized there’d be make-up sex involved in this discussion.” Carver slapped his forehead. He slowly turned as if checking to see that they had all the important bits covered.

  Sabra took Holden’s proffered hand as he helped her sit up. She didn’t let go. Instead, she clutched his fingers. Her panties dampened as she looked at Carver in a whole new light. What would it be like if he watched her have sex with Holden?

  The glimpse she’d snuck in her mirror last night had reflected some pretty hot loving. They weren’t bad looking, either of them, and they worked out like crazy. It turned her on to think of a witness to that passion. Narcissistic? Yeah, kind of. But she took a lot of pride in her body and the hard work it’d taken to get it the way she preferred.

  Holden glanced down to where she practically crushed his hand in hers. He whispered, “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Meep, you little bastard. Today’s your lucky day.” He grinned at his partner. “I want to show you something.”

  “What?” Carver tipped his head, looking around as if they’d hidden a new ride somewhere on the roof.

  “The finest woman you’ll ever lay eyes on,” Holden answered.

  “Better not let Sally, Nola or Kaelyn hear you say that.” Sabra slapped his ass. “I’d like to count them as friends, not enemies.”

  “All right.” He refined his statement. “The finest woman you’ll ever see that you haven’t already fucked.”

  Meep snorted then tried to cut himself off mid-laugh, as if afraid of insulting Sabra with the crass assessment.

  She didn’t mind. The lady Hot Rods were gorgeous, each of them in their own way. And knowing they’d each gotten a piece of the studs roaming around downstairs made her a teeny bit jealous. Some catching up might be in order.

  The opportunity to tease them was too good to pass up, however.

  “Better not let Ms. Brown hear you say that.” Sabra deflected with humor. And was rewarded.

  Both Holden and Carver groaned, and not in a good way. Meep said, “Aw, gross, Sabster.”

  Holden stuck out his tongue and scrubbed his eyes while making a distinct blech sound. “I need brain bleach now, babe. Don’t get me wrong, she’s hot for an older lady, but she’s kind of like our mom around here. There are lines even Hot Rods don’t cross.”

  Sabra only laughed.

  And soon that was enough to have Holden’s full attention on her and the focus back in his eyes, which reheated as he admired her.

  “I should punish you for teasing us like that.” His voice rang with command that her body secretly wished to obey.

  “Now you sound like Roman,” Carver mumbled under his breath. If his shifting from foot to foot, accompanied by a squeeze to his groin, was any indication, he didn’t exactly mind.

  The appreciation in the pair of their gazes infused Sabra with courage. She didn’t wait for Holden to strip her. Instead, she bent forward, easily grabbing her ankles then spreading her legs. Her pleated skirt was short enough to show the hint of her ass and the shadowed valley between her legs to the guys. She knew because she’d checked it out this morning before deciding to be bold instead of falling into her old work wardrobe.

  She’d figured she’d be safe when even the extreme maneuver only flashed a bit of her private parts. Now it came in handy.

  “Wow.” Carver watched as Holden approached her. “You really are flexible, aren’t you?”

  “This is nothing, Meep.” She winked as she used his nickname. “Ask Holden about last night, if he hasn’t told you already.”

  “Don’t worry. I heard about it in enough detail to sport wood at breakfast this morning.” Carver rubbed his abdomen restlessly.

  “I told you I planned to brag about you.” Holden stepped closer and ran his hands along her upper thighs until he cupped her ass in his broad palms.

  She rocked into his touch, giving both men a better view of her pretty underwear. After all, she’d worn them especially for Holden. He should get to enjoy the sight of the ruffled boyshorts.

  “You’re a showoff, aren’t you?” He bent at the waist, surprising her with a nip on the thickest part of her ass muscle.

  “Takes one to know one,” she replied and ground onto the finger he used to trace her slit through her panties.

  His laugh mixed with a moan. “Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun fucking someone before.”

  “Technically, you’re not fucking yet.” Carver sounded as if he gritted his teeth. “I could help you out with that if you want, Holden.”

  “Just so you know…what he means is that I’m more of a voyeur than an exhib
itionist.” Holden knelt to bury his nose between her legs and breathe deep. “If I had a second condom in my wallet, I’d let Carver show you how much it turns me on. But no way am I missing out on this tight, hot pussy.” He snuck a finger around the elastic of her underwear and into her slippery channel, testing her readiness.

  “So get your dipstick in there and check her oil already.” Carver unglued his feet from the ground and trotted in front of Sabra. He perched on the end of one of the chaises in front of her and shoved his jeans down his thighs.

  She lifted her head enough to watch him curl calloused hands around his cock and start jerking it. “Hell, I might be a voyeur too. Who knew?”

  Holden laughed at them both, the rich sound of his chuckle turning her on even more.

  But when he tugged her panties off and the head of his cock nudged her opening, she gasped. Need replaced amusement. “Put it in me, Holden.”

  “We kind of skipped a few steps here. Are you sure you’re ready for me?” he asked as he caressed her lower back.

  “Stop torturing me and give me your cock. Please.” She hated that she begged, but her insides quivered in anticipation of his length stretching her again.

  “Give the lady what she wants, Swinger.” Carver encouraged his friend as he stroked himself idly, just waiting to rev himself up in time to the pace they set.

  Without further debate, Holden tore open the condom he’d grabbed from his wallet, rolled it down his length, then situated himself at her opening once again.

  The tip of his cock burrowed inside her.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Sabra flexed, going onto her tiptoes to engulf his hard-on with her pussy. She shoved backward, lodging him inside the tight rings of muscle that cried out in welcome at the reintroduction of his perfect girth.

  Holden took the hint. He glided into her depths with one long thrust, then reached down, lifting her torso so he could wrap his arms around her and nuzzle her hair even though he wasn’t nearly as limber as she was.

  “I swear we’ll do this right later. For now, I need to fuck you.” His thrusts were sharp and deep when he punctuated his promise.

  “From where I’m at, it looks like she wants it just as bad.” Carver fisted his cock and began to work it in earnest. None of them were going to have enough restraint to endure this pace, this intensity, for long.

  When the force of Holden’s fluid drilling shoved her forward, Meep used his free hand to brace her for his friend’s invasion. Again and again, Holden breached her. His cock pressed on all the right places inside her and before she could warn him, she shattered.

  The orgasm surprised her, never having come so easily in the past.

  She’d simply enjoyed and it’d happened. No thinking. No trying. No self-control.

  So unlike her.

  And she never wanted it to end.

  When she came, her half-lidded stare flicking between Holden over her shoulder and Carver in front of her, his hand flashing over his cock fast enough to make her sure she knew why his nickname was Meep, she spasmed harder than she ever had in her life before. It was no coincidence Holden gave her the best orgasm of all time as his friend looked on.

  She could get used to the Hot Rods.

  As if he couldn’t resist the milking of her pussy, Holden grunted. He wrapped his hands around her hips and clutched her to his pelvis as he buried himself completely and let go. His own climax pulsed through him, his seed pouring into the latex separating them. She wished she’d told him she was on birth control.

  Even more arousing, though, was the sight of Carver’s come erupting from his cock. If she hadn’t been shaking as if the whole garage had suddenly been hit by an earthquake, she might have leaned forward and tasted the fluid that shot from his erection in pump after pump.

  “I think he liked that,” Holden rasped against her neck in between hot kisses and tender nibbles. “So did I. You’re amazing. You know that, right?”

  “Hell yes, you are, Sabster.” Caver flopped to his back on the chaise as he caught his breath.

  Her pussy still periodically squeezed Holden when he sighed and slipped from her clutches. Weak knees led to her perching on the corner of Carver’s chair.

  Before things could get weird, he tucked his softening cock into his pants, adjusted himself then kissed her cheek. “I’m going to go back downstairs so you two can talk some more. I promise I won’t interrupt again.”

  “What if I want you to?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked. Her cheeks heated as she peeked at Holden for his response.

  A contented grin stretched across his face.

  Thank God.

  “You know where to find me.” Carver bussed her cheek before murmuring, “Thank you for trusting us. Take it easy on Swinger, would you?”

  Unexpected tears pricked her eyes, so she nodded instead of replying.

  When Meep disappeared down the stairs, Holden gathered her to him and arranged them both on the chaise, where they snuggled together. A luxury she probably couldn’t afford if she was going to accomplish her goals and capture Hot Rods on film.

  Damn.

  She pried herself from his grip, hating the tiny gap between them. “I need you to understand that I’m serious about the work I’m doing here. We shouldn’t…”

  “Fuck on the clock?”

  She nodded.

  “Agreed.” He winked. “I’m not usually irresponsible when it comes to business or my partners. Besides, that sounds kinda painful, huh?”

  Sabra laughed, delighting them both. “Sure does. I have no desire to have a minute hand up my ass.”

  This time Holden joined her. After they settled, he stole one final kiss, then patted her cheek.

  “I guess I’m going to get back to it.” Sabra returned to where they’d started her interview confessional. She snagged her camera then power-walked toward the stairs. She’d nearly escaped the field of raw sexuality surrounding him, which could be the only reason she’d do something so insane, when his warm fingers bracleted her wrist, drawing her to a stop against his solid chest.

  “You can play it cool today. But tonight…tonight,” he murmured against her temple, “I’m coming over to have pizza in bed. And you for dessert.”

  Chapter Eight

  Holden figured these had been the best five weeks of his life.

  Peaceful.

  At the shop, he was surrounded by work he enjoyed and friends both old and new. Sex every night with a woman he counted as a partner more than a lover didn’t hurt either. Watching her slave over her project, editing in the evenings, had showed him all over again how lucky he was to be part of the Hot Rods. Seeing his gang through her eyes as she discovered their quirks and documented their successes reminded him how fortunate he was. Doubly so now that he had her.

  The sheer rightness of it all terrified him. Because he wished things could stay this amazing forever, and life seldom stood still for long.

  If he were totally honest with himself, he’d admit they’d stalled somewhere safe. Afraid of hitting a speed bump early in their relationship, he’d kept things in low gear, retreating to Sabra’s apartment every night.

  They’d used feeding Sir Clawdius Fuzzington and access to her desktop computer, complete with post-production software, as convenient excuses to camp out at her place while avoiding the temptations and possible complications of spending their nights at Hot Rods. Soon, though, they’d have to cross that bridge and he hoped she was ready, because waiting to share her with the gang had started to make him antsy for more.

  Maybe they could bring her cat over to Hot Rods. Fuzzi and Buster could turn out to be best buddies. Either that or mortal enemies. It’d be fun for everyone.

  Holden leaned against a toolbox, crossed his legs at the ankles and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. From the shadowed interior of
the garage, he had a perfect view of Sabra’s ass as she contorted herself into some ridiculous asana that left the other Hot Rod women gasping. In unison, they followed her directions for a simplified version of her expert yoga moves.

  The women had taken to meeting up an hour before the shop opened to work out together. Nola swore the exercise helped with her morning sickness, though Holden figured the herbal tea Sabra had brewed for her had something to do with her settled stomach. Besides, no one around Hot Rods was going to complain if the ladies wanted to limber up. Get stronger than they already were.

  During the day, things were business as usual. Swinger had knocked out some killer projects with Sabra hovering over his shoulder, prepared to show the world the quality and innovative style they lavished on each restomod completed at the shop.

  Plus, Sabra spent an hour or two each afternoon conducting more interviews. Some with Tom and Ms. Brown were sure to tug at viewers’ heartstrings and, hopefully, raise awareness for the shelter and adoption advocates across the globe.

  As much as Holden hated to admit it, Sabra and Nola—okay, pretty much everyone except him—had been right. The show was a fantastic idea. Especially if it meant he got to hang around with Sabster all day, in addition to burning up the sheets with her at night.

  “That’s a view I’ll never get tired of.” Carver hopped up on the tool chest beside Holden.

  “No kidding.” Roman joined them. “I’m a fan of that really twisty one she does where she crosses her ankles behind her head then puts her arms around her thighs and behind her back. The guy who invented this shit was a genius.”

  “Yup. That’s called the Sleeping Yogi pose and it’s as good for fucking as you’re imagining.” Holden rubbed his chest as he remembered exactly how deep he could bury himself in Sabra’s heat when she demonstrated that asana in private. “It makes her extra tight too.”