Authors: Jasinda Wilder
The Preacher's Son #3 Unbroken
© 2012 Jasinda Wilder
October 26, 2012
This story you're ogling on your hot little digital device is 12,6000 words, or 50 book pages long.
This story contains super-hot sex, M/F. For adults, 18+ only
My heart stopped, and my mouth went dry. Tre tensed, but held his position.
"She's a woman, Dan," Tre said, "not a possession. Go away."
Tre stumbled backward with Dan following, the barrel of a pistol pressed against Tre's forehead.
"Don't tell me what to do, you little shit," Dan said, shoving the gun to send Tre stumbling backward. "I'll fucking kill you and no one will give a fuck."
Dan's pale blue eyes found me, a greedy, lecherous smile curved his mouth. "I see you got the whore all ready for me." He gestured with the barrel of the gun. "Get over here, bitch."
Tre's eyes were blazing with anger and fear. He glanced at me, and I shook my head. I didn't want him to get hurt because of me. I slid off the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around my chest.
"Lose the sheet, Shea." Dan tilted the gun toward his crotch, and then pointed it at Tre. "Get on your knees and blow me, or I'll blast the punk's head off."
I swallowed hard, my hands shaking. I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't let Tre get hurt.
"No, Shea, don't," Tre said, his voice strained. I didn't dare look at him. "Don't do it."
Dan glanced at Tre, contemptuous. Dan was shorter than Tre by several inches, thinner and had nowhere near the same bulk. He was dressed in an expensive suit, wore a Rolex and snakeskin shoes, gaudy gold rings on his fingers. His fine blond hair was coming loose at the sides, slicked back on the top. Dan was tense, nervous, fidgety, angry.
Tre, on the other hand, was naked except for the towel cinched around his waist. Fear and anger showed in Tre's dark brown eyes, but he was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, seemingly relaxed. He was ready to pounce, I could tell. He had no intention of letting this happen.
I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. There was no way I could touch Dan. I'd rather die first. The problem was, Dan would kill Tre instead of me.
Dan pulled back the hammer of the pistol. "Now, bitch."
I forced my feet forward, one step at a time, still clutching the sheet to my chest. A few, far-too-short steps took me within hand's grasp of Dan. He snatched the sheet from my stiffened fingers, and I was naked, vulnerable. Dan reached for me again, with the hand gripping the pistol, pushed my head down. His other hand moved for his zipper, lowered it. He rooted in his boxers and pulled out his penis, still trying to force my unwilling head down.
For that split second, Tre was forgotten, all of Dan's attention focused on bending me to his will.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement, tan skin rippling through space. I threw myself to the side as Tre collided with Dan in a bone-crunching tackle. The gun went flying, landed under a chair. Tre and Dan rolled and came to a stop with Tre on top, fists flying, bashing, smashing. Dan's face crumpled under Tre's fist, and once again I had to pull him away. Tre scrambled away from the prone, limp, and bleeding form of my husband. My ex-husband. He may not have signed the papers, but he wasn't my husband.
Tre scooped up his jeans and shoved his legs into them, then stripped the bed of its sheets. He rummaged through Dan's pockets, emptying them, then manhandled his body into a chair, using the bed sheets to tie him up.
I was still frozen, shocked.
"Get dressed, Shea," Tre ordered. I stared at him, uncomprehending. "Shea? Are you with me? I ain't stayin' here. We gotta go. Come on, baby. Get dressed."
"Go? Where are we going?"
"Anywhere. Away from here, away from him." He grabbed my bra from the handle of the bathroom door where I'd left it, handed it to me, then pulled a clean pair of panties from my suitcase, along with a pair of boy-shorts and a T-shirt.
I put them on, numb. Seeing Dan had thrown my brain out of gear and I couldn't seem to get it to click back into place. Having clothes on got me running a bit better. I packed the rest of our stuff, and then Tre grabbed our bags as well as the set of keys from Dan's pockets. The key was for an Aston Martin.
Tre vanished out the door with our things, leaving me alone with Dan, who was beginning to stir. Blood drooled from his jaw, congealed at his nose and covered his neck and shirt front. His bruised, purpling eyes fluttered, and then he jerked awake, struggled against the sheets binding him. They held tight. I scooped the gun up from beneath the chair.
Blind hate flooded through me, now, with Dan bound helpless in front of me. I could get revenge. I pressed the pistol to his head, remembering all the insults, the times he'd slapped me, the hookers, the drugs...
"Do it," Dan slurred. "Shoot me. You know you want to."
I did want to. It would be so easy. I pulled the hammer back with both thumbs, shoved the barrel into his mouth.
Then I felt firm hands pull the gun away from me, felt Tre's hands twist me aside.
"No, Shea. Let's just go. Leave him." Tre guided me to the door and pushed me through it. I heard him do something behind me, then a thump of the gun hitting the floor and Tre's hand touched me on the back.
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Wiped prints off it. I saw an episode of CSI, once, while my folks were out."
He helped me into a car, tan leather seats. Tre slipped in beside me in the driver's seat, started the car with a smooth purr. It wasn't my car, it was Dan's. The Aston Martin. His baby. His pride and joy. I grinned. Having this car stolen would really chap his ass.
Tre drove fast, enjoying the power of the car.
"Slow down, Tre," I said, shock finally wearing off. "This is a stolen car, after all."
"True." He brought the car down to a safe, legal speed.
We drove south in silence for a few miles. After a while, Tre finally glanced at me. He was antsy in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers, eyes flicking. I wasn't sure if he was nervous from having stolen a three hundred thousand dollar car, or if he was flushed with adrenaline from the fight. Both, most likely
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"It was scary. Seeing him...it threw me for a loop. I don't know why he finally showed up after all this time." I tried a smile, didn't quite succeed. "You were amazing, yet again."
Tre grinned at me, but I could see the residual fear still bubbling behind his eyes. "I just, I couldn't let nothin' happen to you, Shea. Not at the hands of that—that—bastard."
"You protected me," I said, feeling the adrenaline kick in now, after the fact, as boiling heat in my belly, a trembling anticipation in my thighs.
I don't know if Tre saw something in my eyes, or if he felt it himself, but his eyes darkened with desire, his nostrils flaring. His hand snaked across the space between us to touch the bare skin of my leg, just below the hem of my shorts. The boy's boxer's he'd thrown at me were loose, riding low on my hips and loose around my legs. They were something I usually slept in, rather than wore out in public, but now I was suddenly glad for their looseness.
His fingers slipped higher, moving from the solid muscle of my quad inward to the soft silk of my inner thigh. I slid down in the leather seat until the lap belt creased the light padding over my ribs beneath my breasts. My knees spread apart to give him access. He didn't rush, though, and I knew I'd taught him well. He drew out the moment of contact, brushing close and drawing away, keeping his eyes on the road and letting his fingers explore by touch.
One finger brushed the line between my nether lips, releasing a spurt of wetness from within me. The same finger slid across my opening, searching upward for the hard button of my clit. I gasped when he found it, circled it once, and then slid down between my labia to penetrate inward, seeking the warmth and wet of my pussy.
My eyes pressed closed, bright mid-afternoon sun flickering on my eyelids as we passed beneath trees. The engine hummed, wind roared around the open top of the convertible luxury car, and Tre's fingers explored farther in, finding the rough skin of my G-spot and rubbed it, eliciting another gasp from me.
Back out and to my clit, swirling around it in circles. I was drenched, ready for a rhythm, wanting the burst of climax. I wanted him to pull the car over and take me in the passenger seat.
I forced my eyes open and examined our surroundings. We were surrounded by lush, rural Mississippi beauty, the two-lane road empty in front of us and behind us. I noticed a dirt track leading off into the woods to our right. I pointed at it, meeting Tre's eyes. He grinned widely and pulled off the highway, following the track through the woods and into the forest depths. The expensive Aston Martin wasn't meant for dirt roads, bumping on ruts and pits in the neglected packed dirt. The track broke off again, and Tre followed the new off-branching, going barely ten miles per hour to preserve the suspension, and our bodies, from the rough jouncing ride.
Suddenly, within less than a mile from the highway, we were in a whole different world. The powerful engine purred quietly, barely breaking the silence of the forest. After another few hundred feet, Tre stopped the car and shut off the engine. It ticked and popped as it cooled, and after a moment or two the birds began chattering once more.
Tre's fingers had been busy while he drove away from the main highway, diving in and pulling out, circling my aching clit, teasing me with arrhythmic touches. Now, with the car stopped and his attention focused on me, he began to swirl around the nexus of nerves in narrowing circles. My hips began to buck and writhe in time with his fingers, and now fire began to spread in billowing waves from deep in my core throughout my body. The forest echoed with the whimpered gasps of pleasure ripping from my lips.
I came with a shriek, curling inward and then arching my back.
I went limp for a moment, and Tre smiled in satisfaction, watching me regain my strength. I sat up when the trembling in my thighs and belly had subsided to a manageable quaking.
I grinned at him, and then unbuckled, popped open the car door and slid out to circle around to the front. I watched Tre over my shoulder through the windshield as I lay on my back on the warm hood. One arm stretched over my head, I curled a finger at Tre, beckoning him. The seatbelt slid away from his chest and he got out of the car. While he circled the car to stand in front of me, I unhooked my bra and slid my arms out of the straps, leaving my shirt on, and then tossed the bra over the top of the windshield into the front seat.
Tre's hard body slipped between the V of my thighs to press against me, and his hands slid up my belly, pushing my shirt up as they went. The hard bulge of his cock strained the zipper of his jeans. I lifted my arms, and Tre tugged the cotton past the gravity-flattened mounds of my breasts, over my head, and left it on the hood next to me. His lips lowered to my skin between my breasts, then traced a line of light, tongue-fluttering kisses across to one taut nipple.
I unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, pushed them down past his hips, and then reached into his boxers for the hard heat of his cock. He jerked in my hands and grew thicker at my touch. His hair was in my face, and I inhaled deeply, smelling shampoo. I rubbed my thumb over the crown of his cock, drawing the pre-come from its tip, then smeared the viscous liquid down over his length with my palms.
Tre nibbled a nipple and I gasped sharply. He tugged my shorts and the panties down together, my hips lifting of their own accord, and then I was bare on the hot red metal of the car hood. Tre's mouth was on my breast, his cock in my hands, birds twittering and chattering in the branches above us, a light breeze weaving through the branches.
I felt myself drawn down the hood toward Tre, and I lifted my legs to rest them on his shoulders. His lips met mine in the instant of his shaft piercing into me, swallowing my moan. He thrust slowly, gliding in to bump hips and drawing out so only the tip remained within me. He paused there, his eyes burning into mine between the frame of my legs. He stroked in again, stretching my legs into my chest as he leaned forward, filling me to bursting, achingly saturated with his length and width.
He curled his fingers around my ankles next to his ears, lips parted in an outbreath, eyes heavy-lidded as he pulsed into my tight folds. I'd just come, but I felt the quivering begin in my belly, felt Tre's rhythm increasing and heard his breathing grow ragged.
Then he slowed and paused.
"What is it?" I asked.
He seemed shy, like he wanted to ask something, but was afraid to.
I fluttered my hips as I said, "If you want to do something, do it. I trust you."
Tre lowered my legs from his shoulders and set me on my feet, his cock slipping out of me in the process. I blinked and gasped at the sudden absence, especially nearing climax as I had been.
When I was standing, he grabbed my hips and turned me in place. I knew what he wanted by then, but I played dumb. I turned my head, flashing him a coy smile, waiting. He kissed me over my shoulder, then put his palm between my shoulder blades and ever so gently pushed me forward so I was bent over the car. I spread my feet apart and rested my weight on my forearms, still watching him over my shoulder, my hair falling in a cascade onto the hood.