Patrick controls every aspect of this blowjob; from the way he stills my hips, preventing me from thrusting further down his throat to the speed of his fist working in tandem with his mouth. But then again, I didn’t expect any different from him. The bedroom is Patrick’s domain, and I for one, like it that way. More often than not, he knows what I need before I do, and looking over at Mia, I see it’s the same for her.
Patrick knew this was important; him taking both of us separately while the other watched.
It was a smart move too. Mia needs to know that the possibilities are limitless in a relationship like this, and the only restrictions she has are the one’s she places upon herself.
There will be times when we can’t all be together like we were last night. And I’m sure there will be occasions when Mia’s pussy needs a break from the two of us ravaging it 24/7. In those instances, she has to know that it’s okay for her to be intimate with Patrick if I’m not here, and vice versa. Just like it’s okay for one of us to masturbate while the other two fuck like rabbits.
Mia’s breathing accelerates as Patrick swallows my cock whole, making me cry out. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucks me hard, finally allowing me to thrust into his mouth savagely until the head of my cock nudges the very back of his throat.
Weaving my fingers into his hair, I piston in and out, dragging my glans over the ridges on his tongue every time I retreat.
“God that’s hot. What does it feel like?” Mia asks curiously. Her fingers are strumming her clit as she squirms restlessly on the bed. I can see our girl needs some help getting herself off, so I answer,
“His mouth is so hot, baby. So wet. And if he’s not careful, I’m going to come and make him swallow every drop. Would you like that? Do you want to see Patrick drink down my come and then lick me clean?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, inserting three fingers into her soaking wet cunt.
“I can see you dripping from here, baby,” I say, earning a growl of approval from Patrick. “Is this making you wet, me fucking his mouth?” Another yes comes from Mia, but she’s no longer looking at me. All her attention is focused on Patrick’s head bobbing up and down my shaft and the motion of his hand as he rolls my heavy sack.
Setting up a steady rhythm so that Mia gets one hell of a show, I pull my hips back and then drive into Patrick’s mouth, bottoming out at the back of his throat over and over and over again. My vision dims at the edges, the room around me turning hazy with lust as I strangle a groan in my chest.
“That’s it, baby. Suck me harder. Deeper,” I urge, tightening my grip in Patrick’s hair. “Now make me come. Fuck, yes,” I shout surging forward one last time.
Coming deep down the back of Patrick’s throat, I pump jet after jet of hot semen into his waiting mouth and sigh heavily, sinking back into the wall. His tongue darts out to lick the remanence of my desire from my shaft, and I scratch my fingers across his scalp tenderly. These are the moment I love the most. The seconds after coming down off an orgasm high when it’s all about soft touches and gentleness.
Licking his lips, Patrick stands and has his mouth on mine before I can blink. I can taste my come on his tongue, and I won’t lie, that turns me on too. When we eventually broke apart, both of us were panting, and there was a look of ownership shining in Patrick’s eyes that I would have given my last breath to see every day from here on out. And with any luck, I would see the same look from Mia soon too.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE ~ Cash~
“Just fortherecord;Iaskedfora puppy but gotyou instead.Isuppose we can’talways get whatwewant.”
–Cash toJump “What’s this?” I ask, waving a plain yellow legal envelope at my wife, Kennedy as she exits the bathroom with only a small towel wrapped around her luscious curves.
“As you can see, I didn’t open it, so I have no idea. All I know is that Talon told me it was delivered yesterday by courier,” she sighs.
Tearing open the envelope, I pull Kennedy into my side and place a soft kiss on her forehead. As I start to read, my pulse races and I have to blink a few times to make sure what I’m seeing is correct and not a figment of my imagination.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. “What? What’s wrong?” Kennedy asks concerned by my outburst.
“Give me a minute to work it out, and I’ll tell you,” I reply.
Confessions of a Motorcycle Man…
– By Shauna Rose Recently, I was privileged to interview an extremely talented up-and-coming designer, whose specialty doesn’t lend itself to canvas or sculpture, yet is just as provocative. Maybe even more so.
Patrick Collins, otherwise knowns as, Jump, to his motorcycle club brethren, is unlike other artists who turn to art as a means to escape their tragic beginnings. Instead, Jump, – as I will refer to him throughout this article – allowed his art to help others escape the monotony of their otherwise colorless lives.
A heart condition diagnosed at an early age was only signaled the beginning of the difficulties Jump was yet to face. With the loss of his mother seven years later due to a suspicious drug overdose, leaving behind not only Jump but his older brother, Cash, the mystery surrounding her death is still currently unsolved. Fearing the authorities would intervene, separating the siblings, Cash and Jump took to the streets in an effort to remain together.
It was by sheer determination that Jump and Cash survived a bitter winter on the streets of Billings, Montana without becoming statistics in the alarming population of homeless people who fall prey to the hazards of mother nature.
At this juncture, Jump has asked me not to divulge the details of the atrocities the brothers’ endured to ensure their survival. However, it is with a heavy heart that I can share they were horrifying and varied, spanning the course of years before Jump and Cash found refuge with Vengeance Motorcycle Club.
Due to the deterioration of Jump’s health and subsequent surgeries prior to joining Vengeance MC as a prospect at the age of eighteen, Jump developed a near fatal addiction to narcotics and opiates. His drug dependency reached dangerous levels this past summer, but with the assistance of his brother, and the support of his club, I am pleased to report he has been in recovery for the past thirteen months.
Unfortunately, Jump’s tribulations weren’t yet over as he still harbored misplaced guilt over the mistreatment of his brother, uncertainty surrounding his continued involvement with Vengeance MC, and a secret that could jeopardize his relationships with the people he cared about the most.
To this day, the general public is remarkably ignorant, or best case scenario, wildly indifferent to the existence of polyamorous relationships.
The overwhelming consensus is that relationships of his nature are unnatural and should be treated as such. Which explains Jump’s hesitation to admit to his loved one’s that he has not only been a part of this lifestyle for many years but is engaged in a ménage relationship with the intention of marrying his partners – one male and one female – in the not too distant future.
It is a little-known truth that motorcycle clubs, regardless of our introduction to the twenty-first century, still operate under the same archaic set of rules they were founded on. One hundred percent male dominated, so it goes without saying, Jump’s sexual preferences, while not shunned, are not widely accepted.
This, however, is not the basis on which Jump has made his decision to break away from his club. While his concerns for the continuation of the friendships he has formed while performing his duties as Road Captain for Vengeance MC, Jump is secure in the knowledge that those who know him best will understand his desire to explore the limits of his potential elsewhere.
Which brings us full circle to the original subject of my interview. Jump’s cutting edge custom motorcycle designs catapulted Pipes, the Vengeance MC owned and operated motorcycle garage into the stratosphere, attracting billionaire clients from around the world looking for unique one of a kind two-wheeled vehicles to add to their collections.
With no formal education as a m
echanical engineer, Jump taught himself the nuts and bolt of the industry with spectacular results. More than fifty of his custom built motorcycles have found homes in eighteen countries, spanning five continents while an influx of orders hint at us seeing that number double in the next several years.
There is no denying Jump’s love of design as he produces one phenomenal creation after another, yet his true passion lies in that of his love for his family, both chosen and by birth. Recognizing what he stands to lose, Jump confided in me that his biggest fear is not being displaced by his MC or their inability to accept his bisexuality, but his brother Cash’s reaction to his long overdue confession.
When I first arrived in Lower Falls, the county bordering Furnace deep in the Colorado heartland, I was skeptical, and I will admit, my initial opinion of Jump was far from complimentary. However, there is truth to the saying “never judge a book by its cover” because in speaking with him, I learned that underneath the cocky playboy who was confrontational at best, was a highly intelligent man, capable of an extraordinary depth of emotion, whose dedication to his friends and family is unconditional.
In writing this article, my hope is that wherever Jump is he has finally realized it is not him who needs to prove his worth, but those around him.
And while some may say his years of self-sacrifice amount martyrdom, it is my belief that we can never truly understand the suffering of others until we, ourselves have been exposed to the evil underbelly good men like Jump live and die to protect us from.
My lungs struggle to draw breath as read and then reread the article no less than five times. The words leap off the page and bury themselves inside my heart as it begins to bleed for my baby brother and the needless worry he’s lived with for years.
How could he think I wouldn’t accept him? I love the hell out of that asshole, and I couldn’t care less if he was gay, straight, bisexual, pink, or fucking purple. He’s my brother, and nothing he can say or do will ever change that.
“Is everything okay? Please tell me it’s not bad news, we’ve had enough of that to last us a lifetime,” Kennedy says, her face etched with concern.
Kissing her gently, I murmur,
“No, everything’s not okay, but it will be. I’ll make fucking sure of it,” I promise her, rolling her to her back. Stripping the useless scrap of fabric, masquerading as a towel from her body, I proceed to show my wife just how okay I can make things when I really put my mind to it.
But that was the easy part. Spreading my wife’s legs so I can climb between them and thrust inside her, thrumming her clit until her back bows and she screams my name is second nature to me. Kennedy’s body has been my own personal playground for two and a bit years, and I’ve mapped every inch. There isn’t a curve, dip, or hollow I haven’t explore in the time we’ve been together, so it stands to reason, I can bring her to orgasm almost effortlessly.
After reading what that Shauna has written, I think it’s high time Jump and I have what sounds like a long overdue discussion about why he chose to hide something that important. The hard part is going to be controlling myself long enough to hear him out, instead of beating the shit out of him for being so goddamn stupid.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO ~ Mia~
“Icouldn’t get r idofyouevenifI wantedto. Your name’s on the lease,and youhave access to my back account.”
–Jump’s way of tellingAustinheloves him
“I do have a daily limit on gooey, you know,” Scarlet gripes as she stuffs another French fry in her mouth.
“Oh, and what’s that? Two thank you’s, a please, and one I love you?” I question sarcastically.
“Wow. Look who’s gotten sassy since she started getting the dick on a regular basis.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss as soon as I notice we’re starting to attract attention. “Fuck them,” Scarlet waves them off, giving one particular old lady who has been avidly watching us since the moment we walked into the diner. “They’re just jealous because they don’t have one man, let alone two rugged, growly, alpha males to take turns eating their pussies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
God help me, or Nate, whoever shows up first will do. “Scarlet, seriously. Shut. Up.”
“Okay, fine. Now tell me what you have planned for Austin’s birthday. It’s today, right?” She is right, it is today. Jump and I even went as far as to wake Austin up half an hour early so that we could start his birthday off with a bang. Or in this case, with both of us simultaneously sucking his huge, thick cock.
Shaking my head because there’s not a chance in hell I’m telling Scarlet the truth, I attempt to distract her by answering her question with one of my own.
“I saw Locke earlier. He was taking Violet into the doctor’s office, do you know if she’s feeling any better yet?” Scarlet has been taking care of Violet since she was just a baby. Locke, Zara’s brother, made the mistake of hooking up with a girl on one of his many trips to Denver back when he was working construction as a carpenter. It wouldn’t have been all that bad if it was a simple, no strings attached one-night stand – which was, in fact, all Locke was looking for – but as far as I’m aware, getting a woman pregnant is the biggest string you can get.
Claiming she was too young to raise a child at the age of twenty-two – regardless of Locke’s insistence he would be there every step of the way – Melissa Burkett dropped Violet off on Locke’s doorstep with a note telling him not to bother looking for her because she wanted nothing to do with the baby.
As Zara’s best friend, it stands to reason that Scarlet was around a lot, which is part of the reason why Violet took an instant liking to her. Much to Scarlet’s dismay, Violet began following her around like a little, lost puppy dog as soon as she was mobile, and eventually not even Scarlet who is usually standoffish around children could resist Violet’s toothy smile, twin dimples, and sparkling aquamarine eyes.
It’s a sight to behold, watching Scarlet and Violet together. Scarlet smiles wider, laughs louder, and forgets all about her need to emotionally distance herself from people when she’s with Violet.
When Locke hung up his tool belt – which is a damn shame if you ask me; that man would be sexy as hell wearing it and nothing else – and swapped it for a pair of tight as sin boxer briefs, a bottle of massage oil, and wallet full of condoms, Locke needed someone reliable to babysit Violet three nights a week. Enter, Scarlet.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she sighs. “Locke was supposed to call me last night to let me know. Since he didn’t have any appointments for the two days beforehand, and the one he did have last night canceled at the last minute, he hasn’t needed me to watch Violet in the past three days.”
That has to be killing her. Scarlet doesn’t normally go twenty-four hours without seeing or talking to Violet, so three days must be torture.
“Why don’t you call him?” I ask the obvious question. “Because there’s a good chance he won’t answer the phone if he knows it’s me calling,” she replies as if that is supposed to make sense to me.
“Do I need to ask, or is this still the same argument just a different day?” Locke is hell-bent on convincing Scarlet to quit her job as a stripper at Teasers Palace – I know, cheesy, right? – and is willing to use every underhanded trick in the book to make it happen. Locke has gone as far as to haul Scarlet off stage in the middle of one of her sets, throwing her over his shoulder, and driving her home with the order not to go to work the next day. Needless to say, my friend categorically ignored him and went anyway, which has started a battle of wills to see which one of them will walk away the victor.
Now, it’s not as if Scarlet loves her job, but she doesn’t hate it enough to be on the poverty line either. With only her high school diploma and a few random college courses under her belt, Scarlet claims her options are severely limited. And since she likes a roof over her head, hot water, electricity, and being able to eat once and a while, stripping didn’t sound like a bad deal if you considered the alter
natives.
“Same shit, different day,” Scarlet mutters, glaring at the man in the booth beside us who hasn’t taken his eyes off her breasts for five full minutes. “I don’t know what Locke’s damage is because as far as I see it, what he does for a living is exponentially worse than me taking my clothes off and shaking my ass for a bunch of horny guys.”
“You’re better than that, that’s my fucking problem,” Locke growls, making us both jump. “Oh my God. You have to stop doing that,” Scarlet whisper yells. “I swear, you just shaved about ten years off my life with that little ninja trick.”
“It’s not a trick, babe, It’s just that not everyone feels the need to stomp around like a herd of baby elephants every minute of the day,” he teases, sitting down on Scarlet’s side of the booth.
“And that’s my cue,” I say standing up and brushing the crumbs off the front of my sundress. “I have to go and pick up Austin’s birthday present, so I’ll see you both later.”
Locke nods and tells me to drive safe, while Scarlet shoots daggers out of her eyes at me. Lucky for me, I’m impervious to her brutal visual assaults, or I’d likely be dead by now.
By the time I’ve made it to the counter to pay for our lunch, Locke and Scarlet are already engaged in a heated argument, which I would find humorous if it weren’t for the fact my friend looks as if she’s about to burst into tears.
Truthfully, though, I really don’t have time to play referee for a fight that I know will only repeat itself the next time Scarlet goes into work. I have better things to do such as putting the finishing touches on my surprise for Austin tonight.
Jump: Book 7 in the Vengeance MC series Page 21