Double In (10 page)

“No.” Reid shook his head. “The Martin you knew, the one you
grew to love is the good man he’d become. He made mistakes.” He scoffed a
half-laugh. “Apparently, he made some whoppers. But he was a good man, honey.
He might have kept that secret to the day he died, but he didn’t take it to the
grave with him. He left that so you would one day know the truth, left it where
he did because of the faith he had in you to turn that bar into something you
are proud of.”

“Fate just helped him along by tossing out that tornado.”
Porter flattened one hand on her back and gave her a gentle push forward. His
massaging continued farther down her spine to the small of her back.

“Sure wish fate would’ve found a less destructive way to
step in.” Marsha’s sigh was followed by a moan as the muscles in her back started
to relax.

“We all do, darlin’.” They fell silent for several peaceful
minutes before Porter spoke again. “So what happens next?”

She’d wondered that herself. So much had changed the instant
she read that letter and yet, did it really have to? Blair was her half-sister.
A woman she could easily hate, but had never quite managed to loathe that
badly, shared half her bloodline. Apparently blood was thicker than water.

The bar, though currently out of commission, remained hers,
gifted to her by a man she now knew had been her father. In a week or two’s
time, she’d have it up and running again, bigger and better than ever.

But where did it all leave her, Porter and Reid? That
question had been ping-ponging in her brain almost since she’d finished the
closing of Martin’s letter.

“I’ll take Blair’s letter to her in the morning and we’ll go
from there.”

“One of us can take it to her,” Reid offered.

“I’ll do it. She’s my sister, apparently just as much as she
is yours.” She laughed, albeit halfheartedly. “Wow, how weird is that?”

“You mean because our woman and our sister are related?”
Porter slid a hand over her shoulder and danced his fingertips up her neck to
her chin. “I’m hoping it’s not too weird for
you
.”

Our woman. Marsha let the words echo in her mind. Would she
ever get used to Porter and Reid saying things like that?
Man, I hope not.

“You’re Blair’s sister, not ours,” Reid pointed out. “Martin
raised us, but he wasn’t our father. Our father left before we were old enough
to remember him. We never knew him.”

“I never knew mine either. Or at least I didn’t know I did
until today.” Porter’s fingers lightly caressed her chin while his other hand
settled on her shoulder. She covered that hand with her own, gave it a squeeze,
and met Reid’s gaze. “I was afraid that would change things.”

Porter grazed the pad of his thumb over her lips. “Do you
want us to show you how much it did, or do you want to eat dinner and go to
bed?”

She looked back at him and smiled for the first time since
finding Martin’s letter. “All of the above, although not in that exact order.”
She considered that and added, “Or maybe in that order. I’m good either way.”

Porter wanted to jump her bones, plain and freaking simple.
He wanted to feel her alive in his arms, wanted to make her moan with pleasure,
wanted to hold her as she drifted off to sleep knowing she would wake with him
right beside her in the morning. Today had scared the fuck out of him. Not just
the tornado and the time it took him to get to her, but the hours spent
speculating on the contents of the letter, watching her struggle, seeing her in
such emotional turmoil.

He exchanged glances with Reid as he brushed his lips to the
top of Marsha’s head and knew his brother felt the same way. He also knew what
kind of day she’d had, that she likely hadn’t eaten since who knew when, and he
had three thick, juicy steaks with all the fixings ready on the grill.

“We’ll eat first.” He gave her shoulders a tender squeeze
before he stepped back and walked to the grill. “Then we’ll take care of the
rest.”

She ate more than he expected her to, polishing off half her
steak and nearly all the potatoes and vegetables he put on her plate. They kept
the dinner conversation light, steering clear of anything pertaining to the
storm, the bar, or Martin.

“Oh wow, I don’t think I could eat another bite.” Marsha
slouched in her chair and flattened a hand on her tummy. “I feel as if I’m
about to pop!”

Porter pointed his fork at her, the last bite of his steak
dangling from the tines. “That, my darlin’, is about the best compliment you
could give a cook.” He shoved the bite in his mouth and grinned as he chewed.

“Let me get this out of your way.” Reid stacked her plate on
top of his. “Do you want some more soda or something else to drink?”

Marsha shook her head. “I’m good. And you guys cooked. I’ll
do the cleanup. As soon as I can move, that is.”

“Porter cooked,” Reid corrected her. “That means I clean.
Guests sit back and relax or, in tonight’s case, build energy for dessert.
That’s the rule.”

At least until you move in.
The thought came from so
far out of left field, Porter jolted. Not that he would ever expect her to do
the cleaning and cooking if she moved in with him and Reid. The days when a
woman’s place was at home tending to chores and children while the men worked
to bring in the bacon were long over. Marsha thrived on being independent, on
being successful. He would never take that away from her.

But he hadn’t actually thought about her moving in, hadn’t
really thought far enough into the future to predict exactly where their
relationship was headed or how far it might truly go.

How far did he want it to go? He studied her for a
heartbeat, pondering the question. The answer came easily enough. As far she
would let it. He wanted her completely, body, heart and soul. He was tired of
sidestepping his feelings for her, tired of playing with other women in the
hopes that one would jar her out of his heart. He was ready to settle down,
start a family, and she was the only woman in the world he wanted to do that with.

Marsha barked a laugh. “Dessert? You’ve got to be kidding
me.” She must have caught the twinkle in Reid’s eyes then because her smile
morphed from one of amusement to pure, unadulterated heat. “Oooh, you aren’t
talking sweet stuff.”

Reid lifted a brow. “Are you sure about that? I thought it
was pretty damn sweet last time.”

“Mmm, I stand corrected.” She stood, stretched languidly,
and Porter’s dick was instantly hard…all the way hard.

“You know, bro, those dishes will be there in the morning.”
Part of Porter wanted to kick his own ass for suggesting Reid wait so that he
could join him and Marsha in the bedroom. He could’ve had a good ten to fifteen
minutes alone with her, could’ve used that time to put her on a path to
Hormonal Happy Land. Instead, Reid would be there with them.

Porter hadn’t known if he could take watching his brother
fuck Marsha. He’d done it and he’d felt the stabs of jealousy, but somehow it
had seemed right. He and Reid had shared a woman before, but it had been
awkward. Nothing about the other night with Marsha had felt that way.
Everything they’d done seemed natural, like a normal progression of their
relationship that would find them…where? Bonded in a ménage à trois forever?

Porter glanced at Reid. He could do it. As long as it was
with Reid, he could share Marsha and still be the happiest man on the planet.

He reached for her, pulled her into his arms, and knew no
matter what it took he had to keep her. Her hands flattened on his chest,
preventing him from holding her as closely as he wanted, but still igniting
tracks of need spanning from her palms to his cock.

She looked to her right, then left, then tipped her head
back. Her lips tilted in a smile of pure mischief and vixen intent. Whips of
anticipation slashed at his balls and he nearly growled before he caught
himself.

“Exactly how private is that privacy fence?”

“Very.” He and Reid had built it six feet high and not a
single gap between the boards. “Someone would have to stand right on it and be
pretty tall to see over it.”

Her hands skimmed down his front, turned when they reached
the waistband of his jeans, and continued down until she could cup his erection
in one hand. “That’s all I wanted to know.” Her other hand started to work on
the button. She managed to free it clumsily, wiggled the zipper down, and her
other hand delved inside his boxer briefs, this time cupping his cock without
the barrier of clothing between their flesh.

“It’s my turn.” Her eyes glinted with sinful desire as she
gently pulled his cock from his jeans and curled her fingers around his shaft.

It was all Porter could do to keep his eyes from rolling
back in his head. Her palm felt like a silk cloth wrapped around his cock and
when she tugged gently at his shaft, pulled her hand down his length in a pressured
squeeze to the head of his cock, he couldn’t stop the growl that rumbled from
his throat. “Your turn for what?”

“Payback.” Humor turned her smile deadly as she sank to her
knees and he knew he was in big trouble. She blew a soft breath on his cock head
and his hips jerked involuntarily at the sensations that tingled through his
shaft and balls.

Her tongue peeked from between her lips for a quick taste, a
swipe of sheer velvet over the slit in his cock head, and he groaned. He balled
his fists at his sides, wanting desperately to grab the back of her head and
drive his cock into her wicked mouth, at the same time wanting to see what she
would do, how far she would go.

She circled her tongue around his foreskin, lightly grazed
her teeth over the sensitive flesh as she pulled back, and he cursed a blue
streak under his breath. Her head lifted, her gaze slamming into his, and she
laughed.

“Feel good, Porter?” Pure innocence sounded in her tone.

He knew better. There wasn’t an innocent bone in the woman’s
sultry body. “Are you trying to kill me, Mars?”

“No, just torture you a bit like you did me the other
night.” She looked down again, seeming to examine his cock as she slid her hand
to the base. “I’m not sure I can take this, but I can’t wait another second to
try.”

Her lips closed around his cock head and glided down his
length, inch by slowly torturous inch. She eased back with the same slowness
she’d taken him in, seemed to take an unsteady breath, then licked his cock
with firm, long laps up his length, from base to tip.

“Holy fuck,” Porter sighed as she placed a hand on his upper
thigh for balance and sank down again, this time faster, her lips tighter
around his shaft. His hips rocked forward, thrusting deeper into her mouth to
press against the back of her throat. He expected her to pull away, but her
throat opened instead as she swallowed his length.

“Son of a bitch.” His head fell back and he found himself
staring at the stars as she started to bob on his cock, back and forth, gaining
in speed until she was fucking him with her mouth.

She giggled, the sound vibrating down his shaft to his
balls, and his knees started to shake. His balls tightened painfully between
his legs. He had to put a stop to this before he blew his wad down the back of
her throat. As appealing as that sounded, he wanted to be back inside her
sodden heat, wanted her tight pussy latched around his cock the way her mouth
was now.

Porter lifted his head, grabbed her upper arms, and dragged
her up. Her eyes rose slowly to meet his, amusement and heat swirling in their
depths. “You’re vicious, you know that?”

“Just returning a favor.” She licked her lips and his cock
jumped at the sight. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I’m not going to.” He dropped his hands from her arms to
her waist and made quick work of removing her shorts. “I’ve got other ways to
finish this in mind.” He pushed her shorts and panties down and gave her a half
a second to kick them aside before he yanked her against him. He cupped her ass
and lifted her, simultaneously impaling her with his cock.

Marsha heard a strangled cry escape her lips as Porter
plunged inside her pussy to the hilt. She locked her legs around his waist,
threaded her fingers at the nape of his neck, and let her senses fly on the
sensations. Her body remembered his cock, stretching easily to accommodate his
girth, the muscles contracting wildly as the position allowed him to reach
areas of her channel he hadn’t found the first time.

He used his hold on her ass to lift her, letting her drop
back down and thrusting deeper, harder. She dug her heels into his lower back
and ground her hips on the in strokes. The coarse hairs of his groin rubbed at
her clit, the denim of his jeans abraded her inner thighs, both adding a bite
of pleasure-pain that set her nerve endings on fire.

He started to walk with her, somehow maintaining the same
rhythm with each step. “I want you to ride me,” he told her through clenched
teeth.

Marsha nodded, knowing if she tried to speak she would only
manage nonsensical sounds much like the ones she made anyway as he walked to an
armless lounge chair. She caught sight of Reid as they passed him, wanted to
ask him to follow, but couldn’t find the words. Would she ever be able to
pleasure them both at once? She hoped so but, damn, when one of them got their
hands on her she was done for, lost in the moment, centered on the riot of
ecstasy they created inside her.

Porter slowly lowered himself, taking her with him. He
lifted his hips and pushed his jeans down his thighs, all the while staying
wonderfully hard and stupendously deep inside her.

She released her hold on his neck as he lay back, and
skimmed her hands down his chest. Rock-hard muscles flexed beneath her palms.
Her legs spread wide, she straddled him, planted her feet firmly on the wooden
floor, and started to ride. His hands moved to her hips and he used his grip to
push her back and pull her forward as she bounced on his cock, grinding her
already swollen clit against his body.