Passion's Hope (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 3) (24 page)

Jay’s hand reached for his belt buckle and Charlie’s mouth watered. She was finally going to get to see the erection he’d been sporting all day.

But Nik had other plans. “Charlotte, my dearest girl, would you please go into the bedroom and look in the top drawer of the nightstand to the right of the bed and bring out the black butt plug?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Damn. She was going to miss seeing Jay’s cock spring up out of his jeans. But she obediently slid off the stool and headed toward the bedroom.

“And don’t forget the lube,
myshka
,” Nik called after her.

Charlie gasped when she saw the plug. Black and enormous. No way that was going to fit in Jay’s ass without hurting like a son-of-a-bitch. Her heart gave an anxious flutter and a feeling of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. Surely Nik wouldn’t expect
her
to wear something this huge. She was glad she’d written No next to Butt Plug (Large) on the check list, making it a hard limit. There was no way she wanted this anywhere
near
her ass!

By the time she talked herself down from her near panic attack and emerged from the bedroom with the requested items, Jay was already draped over the arm of the sofa, legs spread wide, ass high. Nik was smoothing his hand over the supple skin of Jay’s left cheek while he twirled the stainless steel plug he and Charlie had inserted earlier that morning. Using short, jabbing thrusts, he watched Jay’s asshole stretch and widen as it opened around the thickest part of the plug. Then he pulled it all the way out and laid it on a hand towel on top of the sofa cushion.

He took the open tube of lube from Charlie, inserted it nearly halfway into Jay’s gaping hole and squirted a sizeable amount into Jay’s rectum. Then he slathered the rest of the lube on the black, silicone plug, pressed the tip against Jay’s anus and began to push. Jay’s back arched and he let out a groan that turned into a sharp cry as his sphincter began to resist being stretched so wide.

“Jesus, Nik! How big is that fucker? It feels like you’re shoving the Eiffel Tower up my ass!”

Nik chuckled. “Well, that’s a lovely compliment, dearest boy. Because as big as this plug is, my cock is still bigger. Can’t wait to hear what you say when I’m shoving
it
into this gorgeous ass.”

“Christ!”

“Just a little more,
malchik
,” Nik assured him. “You can do it. You’re ready.”

Jay’s pants and moans morphed into one long, low moan that increased in volume, ending finally with a sigh as he felt his tight sphincter close around the narrow stem.

Nik pushed the end of the plug, making sure it was snugly inside Jay’s anal passage, adjusting the narrow flange to nestle into his ass crack. “That is my very good boy,” he murmured, bending to plant a kiss on the deep dimple at the base of Jay’s spine. “
Kharoshi malchik moy.”
Can you stand,
moy daragohy
?”

“Yeah,” was Jay’s muffled response. “Just…gimme a minute, okay?”

Charlie’s lips were compressed between her teeth, but she couldn’t prevent the tiny whimper that left her throat. Instantly Nin’s arms were around her, holding her in a tender embrace. “Do not distress yourself,
malinkaya
,” he said softly. “Jay is not injured. And he is not in pain. He might be feeling just a bit uncomfortable right now, but his body will adjust.”

“Nik’s right,” Jay said with a groan as he lifted his torso up off the arm of the couch and pushed himself upright, staggering backward a step. “It burned for a minute going in, but now I just feel…
stuffed
.” He gave Charlie a roguish grin. “I’ll probably walk funny until I get used to it.”

They heard the slam of the iron gate, followed by voices out on the patio.

“I suggest you get dressed,
malchik.
And do something with that plug.” Nik said, indicating the steel plug he’d just removed from Jay’s ass. He released Charlie and went to unlock the sliding glass door. “Our guests are arriving.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jay just barely got his jeans up and fastened when Nik opened the door to welcome the first two members of The Midnight Riders. Jay flipped the end of the towel over the plug and scooped it up, calling greetings back over his shoulder as he took the plug into his bedroom.

Nik introduced the two men to Charlie as Mitch Thompkins and Ash Rafferty.

Mitch Thompkins was perhaps in his mid-thirties, with dirty blond, layered, chin-length hair and light blue eyes. His smile revealed the deepest dimples Charlie had ever seen. He was handsome as hell and he knew it. Most women probably thought he was the sexiest thing on two legs with that two-day growth of stubble, the twinkling mischief in those eyes, his cocky attitude and the swaggering arrogance of his walk. And they would be right, Charlie though. He had every reason to be smug and arrogant. He simply oozed charisma and raw sexual energy.

“Mitch is a former champion with the First Frontier rodeo circuit,” Nik said. “Now he works for Clay Nighthorse on Clay’s horse breeding ranch.”

Well, that explained the cocky attitude, Charlie thought. In his former career as a rodeo star, he’d probably had to fight women off in droves. “Pleased to meet you, Mitch,” she said, shaking his hand. It was calloused and worn, the hand of a man who worked hard for a living.

“Likewise, Charlie. I’m really looking forward to hearin’ you sing.” He walked over to the spot in the corner that Nik and Jay had cleared for the band, took a shiny bass guitar out of his guitar case, and plugged it into the amplifiers that were already set up.

Ash Rafferty was another extremely handsome man, with thick black hair and sapphire blue eyes. He was a professional photographer, as well as a sometimes pilot with RafAir Luxury Charters. He was one of identical triplets, which meant there were two more men in this tiny little town who looked exactly like him. Charlie found that thought mind-boggling. Was every man in Passion Lake as handsome and sexy as the guys in this room with her?

A second Rafferty triplet, Caleb, walked in behind Ash. He’d obviously come straight from work because he was still wearing his sheriff’s uniform. A violin was tucked under his arm. Except for his hair being slightly longer than his brother’s and his body seeming slightly…bigger somehow, he and Ash looked exactly alike.

While they were busy rearranging the amplifiers and tuning up their instruments, they joked back and forth with each other and asked Charlie getting-to-know-you kinds of questions like “Where are you from?” and “What do you do?”

“How long have you been singing, Charlie?” Mitch asked.

“All my life. When I was in first grade, I had the only singing part in the first-grade play. Choir in high school. When I was with foster families who went to church, I sang in those choirs. I joined the Richmond Choral Society and was one of the featured soloists. They give at least three concerts a year. And I’ve sung with my foster brother’s band in a few bars here and there. Nothing major, though.”

Caleb grinned at her. “So, is that what you always wanted to be when you grew up? A singer?”

“Actually, I wanted to be a ballerina.” She laughed. “But I was always taller than the boys in ballet class and standing on point added another six to eight inches to my height. The resulting image, instead of looking ethereal and lovely, just looked ludicrous. More Ringling Brothers than Swan Lake.”

The next man to arrive was Jake Weston, another former SEAL buddy who built custom motorcycles. Even though Jake was six feet tall, he was the shortest of the group, with warm, hazel eyes and wavy brown hair pulled back into a pony tail. The faded blue bandana tied around his head made him looked like a pirate. All he needed was an eyepatch and a parrot on his shoulder His full beard was liberally sprinkled with white. He had the thick neck, tree trunk thighs and bulging shoulder and arm muscles of an inveterate bodybuilder. His hole-y jeans, his denim jacket covered with patches, his heavy black boots and. the Harley-Davidson logo on his black T-shirt made him look like a biker. All his clothes were so faded from years of being washed that the logo was little more than a shadow.

He shook hands with Charlie and said her name in acknowledgement of the introduction, but after that he ignored her. In fact, he pretty much ignored everybody as he busied himself bringing in and setting up his drums.

“Sorry we’re late, guys.” Two more men bustled in, both tall, good-looking, sexy hunks of the type that seemed to be so rampant in this little town. One was blond with military-short hair and hazel eyes. He was carrying a keyboard. The second man was carrying two guitar cases. He, too, was blond, but his eyes were green. Both were around six feet two or three.

“We had a car fire out on County Road 17,” the first guy said, wasting no time setting up his keyboard while the second guy set one guitar on a stand beside him and took the other one out of its case. That one turned out to be a Dobro and by the time he’d put the case aside, Jay was there with a chair for him to sit in.

“Anybody hurt?” Jay asked.

“No, the car was unoccupied,” the keyboardist explained. “We searched the woods but couldn’t find anybody.” He looked at Caleb. “We reported it to your office, Caleb. They’re running the plates now.”

Caleb Rafferty nodded. “Probably stolen,” was all he said.

Nik touched her arm. “
Malyutka
, the tall, good-looking one at the keyboard is Ethan Bailey. He’s Chief of our volunteer fire department. And the short, ugly one standing next to him”—this was greeted with laughter from all the band members. It was a standing joke among them—”is Garrett Sloan, one of Passion Lake’s two volunteer EMT’s and our bartender Andy’s older brother. Gentlemen, this is Charlotte Fielding.”

Both Ethan and Garrett smiled at Charlie and shook her hand, then they busied themselves tuning up, bantering back and forth with the rest of the band members. Nik turned Charlie toward him, taking her hands in both of his, searching her face for any signs of pain or fatigue. “Are you still up for this, little one? If not, we can just enjoy listening to them jam.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Better than fine. This is going to be fun. Where did you put my guitar?”

“Right here,” Jay said with an impish grin, lifting it from behind a chair and handing it to her. “Thought you might need it. It’s a really nice guitar.”

“Thanks. I bought it from a pawn shop with my very first paycheck.” Taking it from him and hooking the strap over her neck, she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Jay.” Strumming her fingers experimentally across the strings, she was surprised to find it was already in tune. She raised her eyes to Jay, who shrugged.

“I took the liberty of tuning it up for you.”

“You play?” she asked, startled.

Another shrug. “A little. Nothing on a par with these guys, though.”

Charlie smiled. “We’ll definitely have to jam together.”

When they were ready, Mitch gave her a dimpled smile and crossed his arms on top of his guitar. “Lemme give you a little bit of background info on our little band, here. We call ourselves The Midnight Riders. We’ve got four other members who alternate with us, so we all have at least one free week-end every month They asked me to apologize for their not bein’ here tonight. But I’ll tell them what songs we’re addin’ so they’ll be up to snuff on Saturday. We can all read music, but we mostly play by ear, so if we’ve heard a song we’re pretty good at faking our way through it. What kind of stuff do you sing, Charlotte?”

She looked around the group with a shy smile. “Please, everyone, call me Charlie. I sing country mostly, some rock. Pop. Lots of oldies, 80’s rock ballads, folk/rock. Pretty much anything, actually.”

“How convenient,” Mitch joked. “’Cause that’s exactly what we play. So what are a couple of your favorite songs?”

“Do you know
Break Down Here
by Julie Roberts?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ash Rafferty said enthusiastically. “Great song.” He looked around. “We all know it, right, guys?”

Everybody nodded.

“Okay, then.” Mitch Thompkins beckoned to Charlie. “Come on, darlin’ stand over here with us. We don’t bite. At least not on the first date.” This last remark was greeted with a chorus of snorts and good-natured groans.

“Okay, fellas. On my nod.” He turned back to Charlie. “Key of C?”

She nodded.

“Two bar intro.”

Charlie started playing, her hands automatically strumming the strings, at first accompanied only by Jake Weston’s drum. She pictured herself out in the middle of nowhere in a broken-down car, in the rain and on the run from an abusive boyfriend. She started to sing. She had a sure, strong, whiskey-rough voice with only a slight country twang. After the first few tentative words, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept away by the heartbreak of the song. She poured all the anguish and confusion of her own life into the haunting lyrics, giving her emotions free reign as she sang of loss, betrayal, hopelessness and grief. When the last chord had died away, Nik, Jay, and all the band members broke out in whoops and whistles and spontaneous applause.

“
Damn
, darlin’,
can you
ever
sing
!” Mitch said, reaching up to give her a high five. “We are gonna rock this house come next Saturday!”

“Way to go, Charlie, that was beautiful,” Ethan Bailey said. “Why haven’t you auditioned for
American Idol
or
The Voice
or one of those shows? You’d be a shoo-in.”

She shrugged. “Never figured I was good enough, I guess. Not like you guys—you’re great! Why haven’t
you
been on any of those shows?”

“Trust me, darlin’, we’re right where we wanna be,” Garrett Sloan assured her, looking up at her from the kitchen chair he was sitting in, his Dobro laid out across his lap. “Got another one you’d like to try?”

“Well, how about you guys? Do any of you sing?” They all pointed to each other, making her laugh. “No, seriously,” she added. “The back-up harmonies on that song are killer. Can we try? Any volunteers?”

“Well…” Mitch drew the word out, rubbing his chin. “All of us
do
sing, but that’s not exactly the same as sayin’ that we
can
sing. Not that that has ever
stopped
us from singing, mind you. Usually we just kinda chime in whenever we feel like it. Now, Ethan there, he’s a whole ’nother story.” Mitch jerked his thumb backward. “He’s actually got a pretty decent voice, so he’s been our designated lead singer.” He turned to Ethan. “You up to givin’ it a try, Eth?”

Ethan shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” He looked at Charlie. “You wanna do it again?”

“Can we?”

He just grinned. “Darlin’, we can do anything you want.” He pulled up the lyrics on his iPad, set it on the back of his keyboard, and Charlie began the song from the beginning. The effect, with Ethan’s added voice, was dramatic.

“Oh. My. God.” Mitch’s slow, quiet words, spoken into the stunned silence that followed the last note, was the only sound in the room. “Guys, we got ourselves one
hell
of a new singer.” His hushed voice was filled with admiration.

Everyone high-fived Charlie.

“What else would you like to try?”

“How about
Bartender
by Lady Antebellum?”

“Oh, yeah,” Garrett said. “Good choice.” He gave her a smile and a thumbs up.

They gave her a four-bar intro and she launched into the upbeat tempo of the song, tapping her foot and moving her hips in time with the beat, giving it a sassy vibe. Her next choice was
How Do I Live?
, followed by
Need You Now
, another Lady Antebellum hit, with Ethan and Mitch on back-up vocals.

“Got any more?” Garrett asked?

Charlie bit her lip. “Well…”

“Go ahead, darlin’,” Mitch said. “Spill it out.”

“It’s my all-time favorite song. And I’ve been dying to sing it. But it’s more rock than country. And in addition to the band, there’s a full string orchestra.”

Mitch laughed. “Sounds like a real challenge. Whaddaya say, boys? Do we back away from challenges?”

“No!” they chorused, pumping their fists into the air.

“Damn straight! And why don’t we back away? Because we’re men!”

“Men!” They all puffed out their chests and flexed their arms like bodybuilders, grunting like apes.

“We sweat! We belch! We crush beer cans on our foreheads!”

“Foreheads!”

“Men, hell,” Garrett boomed. “We’re not men, we’re SEALs. We can do anything, right boys?”

“Hooyah!”

Charlie was laughing so hard her eyes watered.

“Okay,” Mitch said. “Now that we’ve got that settled, what’s the song?”

“
Lost in Paradise
by a group called Evanescence Are you familiar with it?”

Some of them were, some weren’t. So Ethan called it up on his iPad and they all gathered around to watch the group performing it at the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize concert. When the video ended, all any of them could do was shake their heads in admiration and say, “Wow.”