by Avery Gale
There was a part of him that remembered all the prayers that had gone unanswered—all the dark nights he’d lay awake trying desperately to hold on to memories that now seemed beyond his grasp. He still didn’t understand how he could remember wanting to hold on to the fragments of his mind while being unable to remember what those bits and pieces of his memory contained.
His days were filled with torment as he tried to sort through the jumbled images playing in his dreams and dancing just far enough out of his reach to steal his focus during the few hours each day he was awake enough to think at all. Where did all those lost hours go each day? What was he doing or what was being done to him? Harboring any hope he’d ever find his way back to his previous life seemed like little more than an exercise in frustration, and attempting to put it together in his mind resulted in headaches so severe, he often succumbed to the overwhelming nausea.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering around lost in his own thoughts when the sound of heavy footsteps moving closer brought him back to the moment. Whoever was out there wasn’t making any effort to hide their approach. A few seconds later, the closet door opened, and Karl found himself blinking at the bright light shining in his eyes.
“Senator Tyson, we’re here to take you home.” Sagging with relief, he wanted to weep.
He might not remember his previous life, but at this point, he had nothing to lose by putting himself in the stranger’s care. Karl let the man help him to his feet.
“My name’s Sam McCall. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here before the locals show up and drop a net over us.” Another soldier slid a pair of slippers on his feet, and they led him down a hallway that looked more like a war zone.
The men surrounding him were moving so fast, Karl was having trouble keeping up. Stepping over the bodies of several men he knew had been stationed outside his door, they moved quickly to the stairwell. The man who’d said his name was Sam must have sensed his reluctance because he turned and grasped Karl’s upper arm. Looking down, he was shocked to see Sam’s hand completely encircled his bicep.
“It’s too dangerous to use the elevator. We’ve got to take the stairs. Do you think you can make it to the roof?”
Karl wasn’t sure how close they were to the top of the building, but he was certain it couldn’t be far. He didn’t know how long he’d last running up several flights of stairs, but he was determined to try. Nodding, he preceded the man up the narrow stairway. He sagged in relief when he discovered he’d only had to sprint up four short flights before they burst through a heavy door, spilling out onto the roof.
A few yards ahead, a helicopter sat with its blades turning slowly. When Karl realized the woman sitting in the pilot’s seat wasn’t wearing a uniform like the men who surrounded him, he and drew up short. When he hesitated, Sam leaned down to shout in his ear.
“That’s my wife, Senator. She’s a hell of a pilot, and you can bet your ass she’s going to get us the hell out of Dodge.” Wife? Sam didn’t look familiar, but with his face partially covered it might be hard to tell. But the closer he got to the woman, the more he relaxed. She was smiling at them as they climbed in the back of the chopper and a series of images raced through his mind, but it was gone before he could make sense of it.
Any time he tried to piece the pictures together into a memory, it triggered violent headaches, so he silently pushed aside whatever made the young woman seem familiar. The last thing he wanted to do was begin vomiting in front of the men who’d risked their lives to rescue him.
The other men all smiled at him, offering him a helping hand, and handing him a bottle of water and a granola bar, but Sam was the only one who’d introduced himself. He was grateful he only had to remember one man’s name because he wasn’t sure he could have handled any more.
Leaning back, Karl let them fasten his seatbelt as a wave of exhaustion hit him with the strength of a tsunami. Closing his eyes, the last thing he remembered was the weightless feeling he recognized as the aircraft lifting quickly into the air.
*
Sam knew the senator hadn’t recognized him even though they’d met on several occasions—the camo paint probably hadn’t helped. Tyson was little more than a shell of his former self, and the needle tracks on his arms confirmed one of the team’s fears. He was definitely being drugged—now the question was what they had been giving him and how long did they have to relocate him to a medical facility before he went into withdrawal? Sam watched the emaciated man sitting next to him take a couple of drinks from a bottle of water, then fall instantly asleep. Hell, they hadn’t even gotten off the ground when his eyelids slid closed.
Karl Tyson had impressed the hell out of him by running up the stairs when it was obvious he was operating on nothing but pure adrenaline. The small stumble when he’d seen Jen was the only time he’d missed a step, and Sam didn’t know many men who didn’t react the same way when they laid eyes on his gorgeous wife.
Her long, pale blonde hair and crystal blue eyes were only eclipsed by her warm smile and colorful personality. Sam always cautioned people that judging Jen based on her appearance was a mistake, but they rarely listened—until they found themselves cut off at the knees by her Mensa-level intelligence and smart mouth. He and Sage had won a lot of bets doing little more than wagering how long she’d let an asshat treat her like an airhead before she lowered the boom on them.
Sam had been terrified when Jen announced she was going to learn to fly. There was a reason the team called her Miley—she was a five foot nothing wrecking ball when he and Sage weren’t keeping her contained. But she’d tackled flight instruction with a single-minded purpose that shocked everyone. She’d been completely focused on becoming a pilot, and everyone agreed she had a natural affinity for it. Watching her maneuver the craft through the complicated air traffic control patterns of the city was damned impressive.
Once they were out of the city, it wouldn’t take them long to fly to the small airstrip just outside the radar range of the Jose Maria Cordova International Airport. The team’s small jet was waiting, ready to take off the minute they were on board. As a team leader, Sam had been thrilled when the Wests agreed to purchase a smaller, more maneuverable jet. And now, each team had a jet they used, and their members were responsible for keeping the aircraft stocked with the supplies they most often needed.
His communication device crackled to life, and Jen’s sweet voice sounded in his ear.
“We’ll be setting down in ten. Our next ride is ready and waiting. The big bosses sent in a pilot, they seem to think I’m tired for some reason. You wouldn’t know where they got such a strange idea, would you?”
Damn straight, he knew. He’d sent Kyle and Kent both messages asking for a relief pilot. Jen had been on standby for days, had taken shifts watching the hotel, and only slept in three- and four-hour increments since they’d gone wheels up in Texas ten days ago. He smiled because he knew she’d directed the question to him without opening her mic to the other members of the team.
“I promise to answer that question the next time you’re naked and underneath me, doll. Now, get us to that damn jet, so we can get on our way. The sooner we deliver the good senator to the clinic, the sooner you’ll get your answer.”
He and Sage always made certain one of them had a line of sight on their sweet wife anytime she was flying. Sage was usually seated next to her since he was qualified to co-pilot all the aircraft they used. She turned briefly to look at him over her shoulder, flashing him a look filled with heat and promise. Damn, he was going to have to start pressing his bosses to overhaul the jet. This thing needs a bedroom.
Chapter Nineteen
Mia floated on the fringes of sleep, warm and comfortable as she listened to the steady beat of a heart beneath her ear. There were background noises, but she pushed them aside, content to let the steady thud lull her back into the erotic dream she’d been enjoying before the voices intruded. She’d been riding Tucker’s thick cock, lifting
herself up until the hard ring surrounding the head was teasing her vaginal opening before dropping back down, quickly taking him as deep as possible. She’d experimented until she found the angle that perfectly aligned with her G-spot, sending white-hot streaks of desire to every nerve ending with each stroke.
She knew she was dreaming… or at least she thought she was dreaming, but it didn’t matter, the sensations were real enough to make her body respond. Why is it so hot in here? I thought this ship had air conditioning. Why am I on a ship again? Cheese and crackers that feels so good.
Her dream kept getting better and better because now Brock’s voice was coming over her shoulder, and she felt his palms grip the cheeks of her ass. The calloused pads of his thumbs traced lines on either side of her crack.
“Such a beautiful ass, baby. I’m going to enjoy pushing my cock past this tiny rosette.”
The cool drizzle of lube snaking down to coat the tight ring of muscles sent a shiver of need through her. Having both men buried deep in her was going to be a dream come true.
“Please. I want to feel you both inside me.” The beat of Tucker’s heart accelerated, and in the convoluted thinking of her dream, Mia wondered if he was having the same fantasy. Brock’s finger circled her anus, massaging the lube deeper with each pass until the tip of his digit pressed against the tight ring. “It hurts so good. Oh, please don’t stop.”
As her mind cleared of the fog, she accepted this wasn’t a dream at all. She’d been floating in a space she’d only read about in the novels on her electronic reader. Donut holes, those books were sorely lacking in their description of the haze of endorphins. The authors she favored needed to step up their game.
“I think our sub is starting to come back down, let’s spin her up again before I fuck this sweet ass.”
Brock’s voice was rough with arousal, and Mia hoped he and Tucker were as affected as she was. I sure don’t want to be the only one getting lost in all this. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall for Brock and Tucker, but they were making it impossible to keep her distance.
“I swear she can drift off faster than any woman I’ve ever known.”
“Makes you appreciate Kent and Kyle’s frustration with Tobi, doesn’t it? The two of them will probably be great friends.” Mia forced her eyes open far enough to see Tucker’s wicked grin. “Welcome back, sweet cheeks. Enjoying your ride?”
Was she ever.
*
Tucker wished he’d listened to the voice in his head that had encouraged him to bow out of the public scene they’d planned and stayed in their suite. The intimacy he’d originally hoped to keep at arm’s length was now something he wanted to savor. He was a selfish bastard and wanted to keep it between the three of them. Sharing Mia’s passion with everyone gathered around the stage frustrated him, and he worried she’d feel used rather than fulfilled tomorrow when she had time to consider the consequences of what she’d done.
He’d persuaded Brock to move the scene to one of the smaller stages where the seating was limited to just a few people. So far, Mia hadn’t seemed affected one way or the other, but he’d seen subs freak out when the reality of having sex in front of other people finally hit them. Even the most experienced Dom could be blindsided by a submissive’s sudden meltdown. Hell, he’d known more than one sub who’d walked away from the lifestyle without ever looking back after coming apart in public.
Banding his arms around her, Tucker held her against his chest and tried to slow his breathing. Before he’d sent her over the first time, they’d played with her enough to wind her up pretty tight, but he’d still been shocked to see the glaze of sub-space clouding her dark eyes. Knowing she’d slipped into that state of euphoria so easily was a major turn on. His cock throbbed inside her as he remembered how her body had almost floated off the spanking bench she’d been strapped over.
Mia might well be the most natural submissive he’d ever topped. He’d recognized it the first time he’d looked into her dark chocolate eyes. She was the perfect example of the two sides of the same coin explanation of submission. Mia was a gifted photographer with great instincts for identifying a relevant photo-op before the issue became newsworthy. She was also self-aware enough to know she wouldn’t thrive working in one of her grandfather’s banks. He admired the hell out of her for holding her ground against what must be tremendous pressure to buckle under and conform.
Listening to her soft sighs and muted groans of pleasure as they tried a variety of toys, gauging her reactions to sensation play, Tucker had struggled to tame the beast scratching at the surface wanting to claim her in ways that would make his Sunday School teachers blush. Taking a deep breath, he tried to refocus his attention on anything but the exquisite feeling of Mia’s pussy clenching his cock so tight, he kept sucking in deep breaths to keep from coming.
Reciting multiplication tables wasn’t cutting it, so he began mentally reviewing the unanswered messages he knew awaited his return home. No doubt the menace he and Brock called a younger sister would have sent her share of texts and left any number of voice mail messages asking for help with some imagined dire emergency.
He loved her, but he didn’t even want to think about how much extortion money he and Brock had paid the little demon over the years buying her silence. Keeping her quiet after she’d learned they were members of Dark Desires had been damned expensive. The jackass who’d told her was now banned for life—Cam hadn’t been pleased. Nellora Deitz had always been hell on wheels, but once she’d gone to college, they’d stopped paying for her silence.
When thoughts of his damned sister weren’t enough to distract him, Tucker was forced to admit there probably wasn’t anything that could keep him from becoming lost in the feeling of her tight vaginal walls rippling around him. Fuck, the heat alone was destroying him. Brock’s rough voice finally pushed into his awareness.
“Push back against me, baby. That’s it, nice and slow.”
Tucker was slouched in a chair with Mia impaled on his cock as he held her loosely in his arms. She was arching her back to push back to open herself to Brock’s intrusion, and in turn, she was grinding her hard, little clit against him, ramping up her heat even further. When he felt her tense, Tucker knew Brock was close to pushing the widest part of his cock through the tight ring of muscles guarding her rear entrance. Slipping his hands between them, Tucker rolled her nipples between his fingers and gave them a quick pinch. The flash of pain was enough to distract her, and he heard Brock groan as he pushed in to the hilt.
“Fuck, baby. You’re shredding my self-control. Mine.” Brock’s growled claim didn’t set off alarms in Tucker like it would have a few days ago. Hell, maybe he was finally putting the past behind him. “Tuck, now or never, brother. She’s pushed me as far as I can go.”
Tucker nodded and flexed his hips, pulling himself out until only the tip of his cock was still surrounded by her warmth. They set a steady pace of alternating thrusts, making sure one of them was filling her at all times.
“Oh, my dancing stars and galloping garters. It feels sooo good. So amazing. I’m going to come. I can’t hold it back. Please.”
They hadn’t told her she couldn’t come, but obviously, her extensive reading list had taught her more than they realized. Tucker cupped the sides of her face and gave her the command she’d been waiting for.
“Come for us, Mia. Let’s dance with those stars you’re talking about, love.” If his own mind hadn’t been tumbling ass over tea kettle, Tucker might have questioned the change of her pet name, but with his consciousness exploding into a fine mist, it didn’t matter. He felt his seed burst into the condom and knew the minute the latex gave way. Struggling to keep Mia close, his mind raced as the possible outcomes streamed through his mind.
The first thing he had to do was take care of the woman laying over him like the softest cashmere blanket. There would be time later to tell her their lives might have just taken a dramatic turn, but that wasn’t a conversation he w
anted to have while other people slowly filtered away from the small area where they’d just shared an amazing ménage experience.
*
Mia was convinced her mind would never be whole again. Humpty-Fucking-Dumpty has nothing on me. I don’t know anything about the king’s horses or men, but they’ll never find all the pieces anyway, so what’s the point?
Sex before she’d met Brock and Tucker had been so lackluster, she’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Relying on her battery-operated-boyfriends to relieve the ache had been perfectly fine. Now? Well, now she was certain there would never be a device capable of pushing her to the point of no return. She didn’t think a device had been invented that could provide a suitable substitute for the out-of-body experience she’d just experienced.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been mentally vacant, but when her brain finally kicked into gear, she was surprised to discover she’d been moved to the center of the bed in their suite. She suspected they’d once again cleaned and dried her pink bits because the messy feeling she vaguely remembered when Tucker pulled himself from her body was gone. Now she was surrounded by warmth… too much warmth.
Holy hellfires, she was going to burn to a crisp if she didn’t get out from between these two. A mental cartoon where she popped up from between them looking like a scorched toaster pastry played in her head, and Mia had to fight back a giggle. Great… evidently, the strain of holding back her laughter was too much effort for her lazy bladder, now she had to use the restroom. Extricating herself from between Brock and Tucker without waking them was no easy feat, and when she was finally successful, Mia fought the urge to happy dance herself into the attached bathroom.