Tri-Tip (Grade-A Beefcakes 3)
Page 32
No, he couldn’t.
“On your knees, baby girl. You’ve some cum to swallow.”
Oh shit. It was so filthy, so… degrading, I loved it.
These weren’t just any dicks, these were my dicks. And all three of them were hard and needy.
I knew the feeling.
I popped up and dropped to the floor, not bothering to fix my jeans. My bare butt rested against the heels of my boots.
All three of them opened their pants, but Gus stepped up first.
His hand tangled in my hair as I took him deep as best I could.
“Such a good girl. Take care of your men now… fuck,” he growled as I sucked hard. “And we’ll reward you all night long.”
For now, dinner with the Duke family was forgotten. We were all hungry for something else. Me? I had three big dicks to swallow.
12
PARKER
* * *
Two days off and I spent them naked. With three men, it had been easy for them to assure it. I’d pretty much gone from bed to bed to bed. Or couch to bed to shower to kitchen table. I’d been bent over, laid back, propped up and fucked so many different ways. They were inventive, dominant and wildly virile.
Butt plugs and handcuffs, rope and even chocolate syrup had been brought in to play. They took me together, took me alone one at a time, and once just Poe and Kemp, with Gus having to pick up his parents at the airport. I’d submitted each and every time. To say they took control was an understatement, but I’d loved every minute of it.
I’d been out of my head, forgetting work, chores, everything. Heaven. Orgasmic heaven.
But time didn’t stop for a new relationship. The men had animals to tend to. Vaccinations to give. Dogs to neuter.
I had a town to keep safe. I should have been relaxed with forty-eight hours off shift, but no. I needed coffee. Lots of it. I ached in muscles I didn’t even know existed. I shouldn’t even be walking right. Yet I had a smile on my face and a spring in my step as I walked from the station to the coffee shop a block away. I’d volunteered to do a caffeine run. Honey trotted along beside me, probably knowing she’d get a treat. While she didn’t know where we were going, people knew she was my new sidekick and seemed to always have something for her. She was well-trained, but if it kept up, she’d be spoiled rotten and as fat as a barrel by Christmas.
The weather was holding for this time of year—there was just a hint of color to the leaves—and I had talked to Porter Duke to confirm the ADA job was mine after election day. I was excited about the prospect of getting back to litigating, but doing it in Raines instead of back east gave me a sense of… coming home.
I could be with Gus, Kemp and Poe, be close to my mom and have a dream job all at once.
“You!” someone shouted.
I turned to see the wife beater stomping toward me. He was cutting across Main Street and a car had to stop because of the jay walking. I hadn’t seen him since we’d gone to his house for the domestic call a few days earlier. Then, he’d had a smug look on his face because his wife wouldn’t press charges. She’d called 9-1-1 in the heat of the moment, but he’d somehow gotten her to change her mind.
But now, now he looked pissed. His dark hair looked greasy, his beard a few days past well-kempt, his jeans stained with what looked like grease and ketchup.
“You sent her away. Where the fuck is my wife?”
I stopped, set my hands on my utility belt. I’d been involved in altercations with belligerent people before, trained for them, but adrenaline still kicked in, my heart rate skyrocketing. At least I was right downtown and not out at his rundown house with no one around for at least a half mile.
“Sir, you need to calm down,” I told him.
“Calm down?” He came up onto the sidewalk, got close. Too close. “My wife left me all because you showed up, told her that she didn’t have to be slapped around. That bitch. I give her everything and then she leaves me.”
His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like a bar floor at last call on a busy Friday night.
“Sir, you need to step back, then walk away.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, you dyke bitch. How they made you a sheriff, a fuckin