In MIB Custody [The Service Club 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

“Leave that to us. There’s one thing about a woman, gentlemen, you get her thinking with her heart and her body, and she’ll stop listening to whatever garbage her mind is trying to tell her.”

Danica let a quiet moan escape her lips as she stepped beneath the shower spray. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes as the water streamed over her body, heating her flesh, the warmth seeping inside to join with the inferno still burning in her womb. She hadn’t left her computer for more than a couple of minutes all day. She had kept her mind focused on her latest book, winding her way through the plot and immersing herself in the sex. Though her mental picture had been of her heroine and her heroes, describing what she envisioned in dramatically explicit details had turned her on. As if she had really needed that after her reoccurring wet dream that had dragged her out of bed in the first place.

Sighing, she stepped from beneath the spray, lathered her hair with shampoo, returned to rinse it out, then replaced it with conditioner. While she allowed that to sit, she set to work shaving her pits, legs, and pussy. When she reached the latter, her imagination kicked in again, this time gifting her with an image of Lowell on his knees shaving her pussy for her.

She let herself slip into the fantasy, feeling his hand glide from her ankle to the back of her knee as he lifted her foot off the shower floor to rest on his upper thigh. His touch was gentle but practiced as he worked the razor tenderly over her labia, removing each pesky hair until her pussy was satin smooth.

She dropped the razor as, in her fantasy, he set it aside. His hands returned to her legs, his fingers closing around the backs of her thighs as he spread her feet wide and dipped his head between her legs. Her knees buckled, both in reality and her daydream, at the first imagined touch of his tongue to her pussy just above her clit. She mirrored the movement of his tongue with her finger, taunting her clit with a promised touch she wouldn’t yet give it as she turned and melted against the wall for support.

In her fantasy, it was a different hard wall she dissolved against, this one warm and built with solid sinews and strong arms that folded around her. Kalkin. It was always Kalkin behind her, always Kalkin who steadied her as Lowell had his way with her body.

Kalkin’s hands flattened on her belly, dragged up her flesh, and covered her breasts as Lowell’s tongue delved between her folds for a quick, torturous lick.

Danica closed her eyes, seeing herself as she let her head fall back to rest on Kalkin’s broad shoulder. She tried to reach for Lowell, wanting to thread her fingers through his hair, needing to pull his face more firmly between her legs, but a command from Kalkin stopped her.

“Lift your arms.” His deep baritone sent chills of excitement racing over her flesh. “Lace your fingers behind my neck.”

Danica swallowed as, in her fantasy, she obeyed. Her compliance earned her another tormenting lick from Lowell’s silky tongue before he added a finger, circling the tip around her opening, teasing her pussy into convulsions.

“Please.” The plea left her on a strangled cry as she used both of her hands to mimic Kalkin’s and Lowell’s in her fantasy. She molded one palm over her breast, squeezed and rolled it, then worked the nipple to a beaded point as she toyed with the juices slickening her folds.

“Please, what, Dannie?” Kalkin said against the side of her neck. “Tell us what you want.”

Please stop tormenting me. Please stop invading every moment of my life. Please stay with me, make love to me, be here when I open my eyes.

Because she knew there wasn’t a smidgen of a chance of that happening, she kept her eyes tightly shut and focused on the daydream. In accelerated time of her dream world, Lowell was no longer teasing her, but sending her on a soaring ride to Pleasureville. His long, meaty tongue probed her entrance, licking the sensitive inner walls before driving deeper in search of her G-spot.

Kalkin’s hands worked her breasts, fondling her nipples in tender circles until they beaded and pulsed for more. He gave them more, latching onto them with his thumbs and forefingers, clamping them tightly and rolling them until twin darts of pleasure and pain crashed into one and shot straight to her pussy.

There Lowell remained, his tongue deep inside her cunt. He had turned a hand over, flattened it on her lower belly, and was reaching the thumb down to press on her clit as he fucked her viciously with his tongue.

Danica felt everything as if it were real, as if it were Kalkin’s hands and Lowell’s mouth on her rather than her own hands, and didn’t attempt to shy from the orgasm when it came. She cried out from the force of it, her body jerking and knees wobbling as juices gushed from her pussy to coat her fingers and palm.

Her breathing labored, her pulse ragged, she didn’t move for a full minute as reality pushed the final remnants of her daydream aside. She heard the beating of the shower spray first, drowning out Kalkin’s deep voice. She felt a cool breeze drift over her bare pussy next, reminding her Lowell’s handsome face was no longer there to warm her center. When she finally opened her eyes, it was the empty shower stall she saw rather than her two nerve-racking lovers.

She moaned, the sound more irritation than pleasure this time, and pushed herself off the wall to stand back beneath the spray. “At least you got to come this time.”

She always did when she controlled the fantasy. Not that it did a bit of good. Already, she could feel the embers of need sparking anew, the low ache that never truly faded for a man she was supposed to hate and another she had never met face-to-face.

“Pathetic, Danica,” she muttered as she rinsed the conditioner from her hair and quickly washed the rest of her body. “You’re truly, utterly pathetic.”

Frustrated with herself, she yanked the towel from the rod on the wall as she stepped out of the shower, drying the water and the last evidence of her daydream from her flesh. She wrapped the towel around her hair and flipped off the light, more out of reflex than thought, as she walked naked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, not stopping until she reached her closet.

Wear something comfortable.

Gavin Scott’s parting words echoed in her memory as she stared at the hangers of clothes that filled her closet. Comfort was easy. That simply meant she would be herself as she always did. Figuring out why she had finally been invited to a meeting after years of dropping subtle hints to various members of the club, including Gavin Scott, wasn’t so easy.

She only wanted to hang out, to watch, and take notes. She had even promised on more than one occasion that she would never use any of their names or specific physical descriptions in her books. She hadn’t promised not to use their careers though. How could she? Every member of The Service Club worked in what the world of romance authors and readers often thought of as “men in uniform” professions. They were firefighters, cops, Navy SEALs, FBI—

“Screw the FBI!” She bowed her head and took a deep breath. Maybe she really was turning certifiable. One minute she was masturbating to an image of Lowell Tucker on his knees eating her pussy in her shower and the next she was cursing him for all he was worth.

The meeting. Get back to the meeting.

Who cared why she had finally been invited? The invitation had been extended, and she damn sure intended to go.

“Never kick a gift horse in the mouth, Danica,” she said aloud as she decided on a purple satin camisole and black leather skirt. The evenings had been unusually chilly lately for Alabama in May, so she pulled her light leather waist-length jacket from the closet, too. Her knee-high boots with the modest two-inch heel would perfectly finish the ensemble.

Moving to the dresser, she pulled out a black satin thong and a black lace bra and started to dress. She certainly didn’t have any intentions of kicking anything in the mouth, but she just might have to ask them why they had finally changed their minds. She knew every one of them and what type of men they were. Dominant. Possessive. Wicked. Loving. Heroic. She could probably come up with several more adjectives to describe them if she took the time. Right now, she didn’t have that time.

Twenty minutes after she had started, she was ready to go. With nerves rocking in her veins and anticipation fluttering in her belly, she grabbed her iPad, purse, and car keys, walked out her front door, and headed for the unknown.

It took her another twenty plus minutes to reach the Circle M Ranch but, the minute Mustang Ducote opened the front door of the main house and led her to the front living room, Danica knew precisely what she was walking into...a room full of more hot, alpha hunks than any small Alabama town deserved to claim as part of its population. It simply wasn’t fair to have this many muscle-bound, drool-worthy men in one town, was it?

I’m damn sure not complaining.

“Are you satisfied now?” Austin Roscoe closed the distance between them in four long strides and yanked her into his arms before she could think to step back or protest.

Not that she would have...much. Jeez, how long had it been since she’d had a pair of big, strong arms around her, holding her tight?

Far longer than I want to admit.

Austin brushed a kiss to her forehead. “You finally convinced someone to give you a first-class guest pass to a meeting.”

Danica angled her head and bit back a smile. “Would that be by
not
asking to attend? This guest pass, as you put it, showed up on my doorstep.” She took a half step back as Austin released her. He took her purse and iPad from her and handed it off to Lucky Rylon.

Danica watched her belongings disappear with a sliding glance, then planted a balled fist on one hip. “So you’re saying all I had to do was keep quiet, and I would have been invited a long time ago.”

“Well...” Austin bowed his head and rocked back on the heels of his cowboy boots, looking for all the world like a twelve-year-old boy who had just been caught in a whopper of a lie.

Danica giggled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So what gives, gentlemen?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Diek Rylon, one of the three Rylon brothers who lived at the Circle M ranch and had laid claim to Mustang Ducote practically the day the woman had been born, said as he walked past her on the way to the wet bar.

“You should’ve worn higher heels tonight, girlfriend.” Danica detected a dry note to Mustang’s voice when she spoke. “The shit’s liable to get deep in this room tonight.”

Danica drew her brows together and started to ask what the woman meant by that, but caught the warning look Mustang received from all three Rylon brothers. She closed her mouth instead, deciding it better not to get on anyone’s bad side so soon after her arrival.

“I stayed up half the night last night reading
Dominant Passion
.”

Danica followed the sound of the female voice with her gaze to the sofa where Georgia Cooper-Scott sat between her men, Gavin Scott and Randy Pope. The poor darling looked as if she were about to pop. Yet, she still managed to look gorgeous and gloriously happy.

“When are you due?”

Georgia rubbed a loving hand over her basketball-rounded belly. “Three weeks. I nearly went into labor last night from the orgasm I got reading your latest book. My God, Danica, I have no clue why you would need to sit in on one of these meetings when you already have
that
kind of knowledge.”

Danica laughed and shook her head. “That’s more imagination than knowledge. And this”—she gestured to the room at large—“is just the kind of thing I need to keep that imagination flowing.

“Well, then.” Austin rubbed his hands together, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Sounds like we better get started. Come to me, sweet thing.”

Austin had moved back until he stood in the center of a large wildlife-print rectangular area rug. Danica walked to him on legs that suddenly felt leaden. She absolutely hated being the center of attention and, right now, at least eleven pairs of eyes were on her.

“Turn your back to me.”

Danica narrowed her eyes as she stared at Austin. “Why?”

Both of Austin’s brows winged up. “’Cause I told you to.”

Danica’s heart skipped an excited beat. The tone of his voice had changed in a finger snap, taking on a hardened, more authoritative timbre. It probably wasn’t wise of a woman to test him, but she couldn’t help herself.

“What if I don’t?” The mischief she had seen in his eyes gave way to pure sin, promises of wicked acts that put every sensory nerve in her body on high alert.

“I’ll make you wish you had.”

A naughty thrill raced through her system. She smiled and laughed, albeit breathlessly as she started to turn. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

“You were tryin’ to see what I’d say, weren’t you?”

She felt him shifting behind her and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She fixed her gaze on the empty doorway leading into the main hall. She liked that better, not having to look at anyone in particular in the room. It gave her something else to think about, too, when she realized the shadows slanting across the hallway floor didn’t belong to object, but people. At least one someone was out there. Who?

“I couldn’t help myself,” she admitted to Austin even as continued to study the shadows. Then, she forgot all about those shadows as he stretched a thick black blindfold in front of her eyes.