He had significantly more body art than he’d had twenty years ago. He was full ink, from his jawline to the waistband of his jeans, from his shoulders to his fingers. Len literally wore the club on his sleeve. His club ink, the word HORDE, ran in wide, runic letters up the length of his right arm, from his wrist to his shoulder. The sleeve of his other arm was a conglomeration of assorted images, like most of the rest of his ink. There was no theme but coverage. And somehow that chaos all added up to Len.
He dropped his jeans—he was commando—and she saw that the coverage continued to the tops of his feet. Only his cock—which was standing tall and proud—his head, the palms of his hands, and the soles of his feet were free of ink.
She smiled. “Back, too?”
“’Course!” He turned to show her—and there was still some room, but not much. The backs of his legs were fully covered, but his ass was bare, and his back was about seventy-five percent covered. His exit wound scar had gone through a bare patch.
“Is it the pain you like?”
“Nah. Most of these didn’t hurt at all.” He turned back to face her and put his hand over the scar of the entry wound. “This? That was pain. Not ashamed to admit that that fucker was bad.”
“You’re doing okay now?” He walked to the bed, and she scooted over.
“Yeah. Still feel a little slow, but I’m okay.” He sat down and kicked something under the sheet, making a metallic rattle. Tasha knew what it was and wondered what he’d think. He slid his hand under the sheet and pulled out the leather cuffs with the light chain. Dangling them by the chain over his index finger—on this hand, he had the letters RIDE tattooed between the second and third knuckles; the fingers of the other hand bore the letters LIVE—he raised his eyebrows at her.
She played it cool. “Like Nadia said, you interrupted something.”
“Damn, Doc. I thought I knew you.”
“You knew enough.”
“No, I did not. I most definitely did not. But I’m getting a whole advanced course tonight. You the top or the bottom?” He had an impressively lascivious gleam in his eye.
“Not that formal. Just playing. Like I said—varied tastes.”
“Got a preference?”
“I do—but let’s be clear. That’s not what we’re doing. That’s not one-night stand stuff.”
Now the look in his eyes was hurt, and Tasha was surprised. “I’ve known you practically your whole life, Tash. Maybe I didn’t know you like I thought I did, but I don’t think this qualifies as a one-night stand.”
She took the cuffs from him and set them on a nightstand. “Len. You know what I mean, right? This is what it is. You don’t want more than that, right?”
“Right.” His tone, though, gave her pause. She loved Len. He was a good friend. The kind of friend she was best at—one who didn’t need a lot of care and feeding. He’d been there for her at her lowest times—like now. And she’d been there for him. And he was very, very hot, in even the conventional ways—muscled, big, strong jawline, straight nose, great smile, lovely eyes, the kind of head that looked good shaved. If not for his circus-freak ink, he’d be straight-up handsome. But the ink is what really made the package, as far as Tasha was concerned.
However, she knew him better than he knew her. He was not a relationship guy, or not anymore, not for a very long time. When she was in high school, he’d had an old lady. Shelley. He’d given her his ink and everything, but she’d bailed on him after about three years. Since then, he’d been a hound.
And she was certainly not in a place where she wanted a relationship. She was starting to think bringing Len into her bed had been a less than stellar idea.
But then he said it again, more convincingly: “Right.” And he pushed his hand into her hair and kissed her. He was really good at it, his tongue searching her mouth, caressing her tongue, without trying to devour her. When he brought her down to the bed, lying over her, she felt his granite cock against her thigh, and she moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth on hers.
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “What’s your preference, Doc?”
“Bottom. I like to get fucked. It’s a rush not to have control over what’s going on, to trust someone so much that you can just let go. But those cuffs are still not happening now.”
He came up onto his knees, looming above her. “I don’t need cuffs to fuck you, to take control, doll.” He put his hands on her waist and flipped her over. She heard the grunt of pain as he did it, and she tried to lift up to her elbows and get a look, but he put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her back to the bed.
Closing her eyes and giving into it, she expected roughness from him now. She’d given him an opening for it, obviously. But instead, she felt a very light, whispery touch, tracing the outlines of her ink. Fairy wings. She hadn’t had them when last she’d been naked with him. She hadn’t had any ink. She’d wanted ink, back then, something very particular. But it had not been offered to her.
“Everything about your body is exactly the same except these.” As he continued tracing the lines of the wings, he brought one heavy thigh over and between hers. The hair on his legs felt roughly sensual against her smooth skin.
“You remember my body after all this time and all those women? You’re a liar.”
His hand stopped, and he leaned down to growl in her ear. “I remember. And I don’t lie. Just shut up and let go. That’s what you like, right?”
She shut up.
As he got to the bottom of one fairy wing, low on her back, he wrapped that hand around her waist and then retraced the same path with his mouth. Holy shit—he was seducing her. Len. Seducing her. Her skin danced under the feathery pressure of his lips and tongue. He played the same pattern over the other wing, and by the time he reached her waist with his mouth, she was panting and flexing under him, driving herself against the mattress, taking what meager relief she could from that.
He chuckled, and then she felt his hands on her thighs, pushing them up, bringing her ass up off the bed. Oh, she was so ready for him to fill her up. She whimpered at the thought of it. But then he was gone; she felt the cool air of the room against her skin, where just before she’d felt his heat. But she resisted the urge to look. She let go.
And he was between her legs again, but since she wasn’t looking, it took her a second or two to understand what he’d done. He was on his back, under her, his head between her legs. She felt his arms, thick and strong, hard with muscle, wrap around her thighs, bringing her down onto his face.
He ate her out as she lay on him, not gentle any longer, but with a demanding pressure, sucking and nipping at her tender flesh. Chasers of charged sensation darted through her from that one small point, and when she couldn’t be still any longer, when she flexed hard on his face, moaning in an increasing wave of sound, he clutched her hard, his fingers digging into her ass, holding her still as he sucked harder, until she went over with a wail she buried in her pillow.
She was still coming down from her climax, feeling outside her body, when his hands hooked over her shoulders, and he dragged her down, sliding her over his body, until they were face to face. He kissed her, brutally, his mouth and cheeks covered in her juices.
Needing to feel him fill her up, she put her hands on his chest and made to push up from him, to straddle him, but he held her fast and rolled them, putting her on the bottom, under him. She could feel him pressing at her core, and she spread her legs wide.
He broke away from her again. “Hold on. Hold on,” he panted. She opened her eyes. He was flushed and sweating. She liked that, liked the idea that he was that wild, too. At first she was confused, when he got up from the bed. But then he snatched his jeans off the floor, and she understood. Right. Good idea.
He brought a strip of three condoms back to the bed with him, and Tasha laughed. “Big plans tonight?”
Tearing a packet from the strip, he said, “Doll, I didn’t have any plans when I got here, but now I
figure who the fuck knows what could happen. Best be prepared.” He rolled the condom on, then resumed his position, this time bringing her legs up to her chest. Holding them down with his hands on her ankles, looking straight into her eyes, he pushed into her with a low, heavy grunt.
Lord have mercy, it was good. Oh, God. Tasha had had a lot of great sex in her life. Some really inventive stuff, too. But as for cocks, not many could compare to Len’s. One other. But that thought she shoved away.
She loved cock. The way a good one, like Len’s, heavy and long, touched every single good place inside her, feeling warm and alive even through the latex, the way it—and he—reacted to her body, how she modulated her muscles, clamping and releasing, how she rolled her hips higher off the bed, changing his entry. Nothing was like a good cock. When it was wielded by a man who knew what he was doing? Well, expertise—hotter than almost anything else to her.
He was still staring at her, but as her blood began to tingle with mounting pleasure, she closed her eyes, giving herself to sensation. The position he had her bound up in didn’t give her much access to his body, but she put her hands on his shoulders and added the delightful feeling of his muscles rolling under her palms to her catalogue of delights.
Her climax built and built until she thought she’d go mad. Every deep, full thrust of him inside her increased her pleasure, but his steady, rhythmic movement held her at the edge of release, fulfillment quivering on the precipice like an unshed tear. She tried to break his grip, to move herself, to change their rhythm, but he just grinned down at her. He was doing it on purpose.
“Please, Len. Oh, fuck, I need it.”
“I…thought…you…liked to give up…control.” She took some satisfaction in the tremendous effort it cost him to speak, gasping out his words against his thrusts. And then he groaned, “Ah, fuck it.”
Releasing her legs, he threw them wide open and scooped her ass up in his hands, lifting her and pounding into her, no longer rhythmic or steady, now as out of control as she was. And then, at last, she could feel her next climax surging through her blood, and as it overtook her, she flailed her arms wide, grabbing big handfuls of her covers, her head flying side to side.
“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes”—and then her body seemed to break apart and slam back together—“YES, OH YES!”
With three more punishing, deep, slow, thrusts, Len groaned roughly, and Tasha felt him swell even bigger inside her. And then he dropped like a stone onto her chest.
“Damn, Doc.”
She laughed and laid her hands on his hot, damp scalp. But then, at the heavy weight of him, not moving much, she got concerned. “You okay?”
He lifted his head and grinned. “Oh, yeah. Never better.”
“Last time you said that you were pushing your pain pump like a junkie.”
“I mean it this time. I’m great. How about you? I came here tonight to check up on you.”
“At the moment, I’m good. Very good. The rest I’ll figure out. But we are not talking about it while you’re still hard inside me.”
He flexed his hips at that—he was still hard, fully hard, and she gasped. “You do not have the body of a forty-eight-year-old man, you know.”
“I hope you mean younger, not older.” He bent down and nibbled at her lower lip.
“Definitely not older.” This time, she flexed, moving her hands to rest low on his back, and he grunted. Looking into each other’s eyes, they both realized that they weren’t done.
Suddenly, Tasha heard the scrape and squeak of the front door rolling open. Fuck. Nadia. She’d been thinking, when she led Len into the bedroom, that it might be fun if Nadia came back and joined them. But now, Tasha wasn’t in a sharing mood.
And then Nadia’s voice rang out, “Okay. I gave you more than an hour, so I hope you’re done with your Big Talk.” Her voice was coming nearer, and Tasha and Len stared at each other, listening, and not moving. “I waylaid Chad on his way up and made him buy me tacos. Then I sent him home. So now I’m fed and bored. I don’t want to go home. I didn’t get my nookie, and I’m not going home without my—hey! Yay! Candy!”
Tasha lifted her head to look over Len’s shoulder. Nadia was standing in the doorway, already stripping off her clothes.
CHAPTER FIVE
There was a hot, young piece of ass climbing into bed with them, and Len was pissed. He was still inside Tasha, still erect even after coming so hard he’d thought his gut would split, and he wanted to investigate that some. He wasn’t feeling all that playful.
Nadia climbed up to lie over his back, her pierced tits between his shoulder blades, and whispered in his ear, “Come on, big guy. Let me play, too.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re interrupting, doll.”
“Fair’s fair. I was getting some when you showed up. My turn. But you can stay.”
Len was surprised to discover that he didn’t like that. But then Tasha wrapped her hand around Nadia’s arm, pulling her down, off his back, to lie on her side next to them.
Nadia came in, pushing her head between them, and kissed Tasha. When Tasha kissed her back, her hand moving up to cup Nadia’s head, Len pulled out. His cock was going soft. He wasn’t confused. He knew exactly what he was feeling, and he was surprised by it, but not confused. As Nadia took advantage of Len’s separation to lie on Tasha, he pulled off the condom and tied it off. Then he got up. There was a door leading to a bathroom at the side of the room; he went in to find the trash.
He was momentarily distracted from both his errand and his rioting thoughts by her bathroom. It was concrete—walls and floor—and the ceiling was, like the rest of the place, high and exposed. The fixtures were stainless steel—tub, toilet, sink. The tub was probably three feet deep and six feet long. There was no mirror over the sink. Where a mirror would be, the words YOU LOOK FINE were painted, like graffiti, instead. He grinned. Tasha was one of a kind.
And he was jealous. So, after he found the little round, stainless steel trash can and rid himself of the used condom, he took a beat to think about that.
Until an hour ago, Tasha had never been on his radar in that way. Not even twenty years ago. That had been something that had just happened, something she needed and he offered, and when it was over, it had changed nothing. There had been no awkwardness between them at all afterward. The only uncomfortable part was that it had felt to Len as if he’d crossed a line on Isaac. Even after that display, Isaac getting busy with club girls multiple times right in the Hall, knowing full well Tasha would likely find out about it, then the explosion and the beatdown from the club when she did. Even after that, knowing that Isaac was done with Tasha and had taken the coward’s way out of it—young shithead that he’d been—Len still felt that bedding her had crossed a line. That night was one of his very few personal secrets.
But he’d never wanted anything with Tasha. Or anybody, not for years. He didn’t have any big, heroic ideas about keeping women out of the life—even now, with all that women had suffered, he knew they could leave if they wanted. And he wasn’t afraid of commitment. He just didn’t want it. He liked his life as it was—alone when he wanted to be, and after whatever pussy he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He hadn’t felt jealous in decades. So why now? There were two beautiful, naked women in the next room. He preferred multiples. He got bored easily, and he loved to watch women get each other off. Which was happening in the next room—he could fucking hear it. He wouldn’t say it was a fantasy come true, because it was his usual deal. But he should be in there.
He heard Tasha moan, and the reactions of his body and his head were in counterpoint. His cock filled out again, but he felt that spike of jealous irritation again. Finally, he recognized the simple fact that Tasha was getting fucked, and he could either be part of it or let Nadia have her to herself. That sealed the deal, and he went back out into the bedroom.
Tasha was kneeling between Nadia’s legs, going down on her, making that skinny little tattooed body bend an
d writhe. Yeah, okay. That was hot. And it made Tasha basically his for the taking. With that in mind, he grabbed the strip of two remaining condoms from the floor, where they’d fallen from the bed, and ripped one off. When he was wrapped, he got up on his knees behind Tasha and, without even a word, took her from behind.
She threw her head back and gasped as he sank deep into her pussy. Shit, she felt good. Her muscles were strong, and her channel was tight, and it was like sinking into heaven.
Nadia bounced her hips on the bed, and Tasha got back to it. Len established a rhythm and focused on Tasha, wrapping his hands around her waist and driving her backwards, against his thrusts. He heard her grunting into Nadia’s pussy every time he slammed their bodies together, and he felt the lush flood when her climb went into high gear.
Realizing that Nadia was so short, and Tasha so folded up, he could reach over Tasha and play with the rings in Nadia’s little tits, he did so, pinching each one between his fingers, giving them a little pull and a shake.
She liked that—and she was loud. All of a sudden she was yelling, “Oh, yeah! Do me, motherfucker! Yeah! Do me! Do me! Fuck!” Then she arched so far back she was resting on the top of her head.
While Nadia basked, stretching like a cat at the bottom of their little pile, Len pulled Tasha up, bringing her body against his chest, taking one of her firm, fuller tits in his hand, and, with his other hand, turning her face to the side so he could kiss her. She tasted of pussy, and Len felt his cock swell and stretch inside her. He dropped his hand from her face to her dripping wet clit, still rocking his hips hard against her, feeling her sultry slickness wrapped around him.
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