King Cobra (Hot Rods) (13 page)

The memorial rock she decorated mimicked the one that held a place of honor in Tom’s memory garden. Surrounded by wildflowers, it had become a spot for all of them to go to contemplate what they’d lost and the home they’d found.

Alanso should have a marker for his mother. Something to remind him of the adoration his heart had harbored since he was a little boy. He’d loved the woman who hadn’t abandoned him by choice. Now maybe he could give himself permission to admit it. At least Sally hoped he’d work up to that stage eventually.

Art was the only thing that could calm her when her mind raced along dangerous curves. She couldn’t put the brakes on imagining all the horrible reasons the pair of Hot Rods hadn’t answered her calls. Or Tom’s, for that matter.

Where had they gone? Were they safe? Was Alanso okay?

She switched brushes and added an elaborate swirl of contrasting green behind his mother’s name.

And then she heard it. The roar of an engine. It didn’t sound like Eli’s Cobra, but no one else would pull up at this hour. Maybe they’d taken a taxi.

“Oh thank God.” She finished the section she worked on, unwilling to risk a color mismatch in the morning when it’d cost her just a few minutes to complete the design. She was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Besides, it’d take a bit for the guys to pay the driver and collect themselves. Especially if at least one of them had been drinking. Still, why hadn’t they called her for a ride?

Her nerves got the better of her.

Cans rattled as she slopped thinner into them then dumped in her brushes. A few more details and she’d be set to advance. Ready to open her arms to Alanso, she covered the switch with her fingers. About to shut the light to her workspace off, she prepared to welcome him home. Gently, with warmth and empathetic kindness. In some ways, she’d lost her entire family too.

And that’s when she heard a gasp.

“I knew you boys would change your minds.” Obnoxious fake giggling followed.

They didn’t! They wouldn’t!

Sally cracked open the door to her studio and saw… Yes, they surely would.

Artificial platinum blonde hair whipped around as the object of their combined attention squirmed onto the hood of the Fisher restoration they’d just finished today.

Sally couldn’t believe they’d brought some skank to the garage. Even worse, Eli let that bitch make an ass print on the perfect paint job she’d slaved over for a full day. Those fucking pricks!

She tried to drum up more anger. But the truth was, it hurt.

Watching them together last night had bruised her heart. She wanted so badly for them to reach out and enclose her in their circle of desire, trust and love. But they hadn’t. The only thing that had kept her spirits lifted was the stupid idea that maybe they were taking things slow. Finding their way.

But, it looked more like despite their constant flattery, she just wasn’t their type.

Her boobs couldn’t compare to that fake rack. For Christ’s sake, those things didn’t even budge when Eli yanked up his guest’s shirt, rocking their toy several inches higher on the hood of the candy apple red ’57 Thunderbird.

Even worse, Sally was trapped.

If she broke from her hiding spot behind the cracked open door to the painting booth, they’d spot her instantly. Enduring the awkwardness of that encounter was not something she wanted to add to the list of horrible experiences she’d been subjected to in the past twenty-four hours.

Crying was not an option. She’d done too much of that over these jerks already. Couldn’t they see how much she loved them? Didn’t it matter that she’d worship them and only them—well, just the Hot Rods, at least—instead of half of Middletown? And she wouldn’t be stingy with her affection as soon she got off.

Apparently it didn’t bother them to drive a model with sky-high mileage.

Not if the way they unwrapped the woman’s tits was any indication.

Hell, it might as well have been Christmas. The lacey bra, which Sally begrudgingly admitted was very pretty and ultra feminine, was like some fancy paper removed with delicate swipes by the pair of dirt bags.

She liked her own style, but it blended in enough edge that it intimidated some guys.

Somehow, she’d thought her Hot Rods were different.

Guess not.

Each man took up residence on one side of the airhead. Alanso moaned,
Fawn
, before he latched on to the hardened tip of her nipple. Seriously? Big, dumb prey? She did have doe eyes that were rolling back as the guys got her up to speed.

Yet Sally couldn’t back away, close her eyes or even blink. Because she’d imagined a similar scenario so many times, she couldn’t believe that what she saw was real and not a figment of her envious imagination.

Eli reached up to knead the mound Alanso suckled. He plumped it for his best friend and helped the gorgeous bald man feast until he got his fill. Hungry, he licked, nipped and sucked some more.

While the engine man concentrated on laving Fawn’s breast, Eli turned his attention to Alanso.

He stroked one hand up the guy’s back, inspiring a shiver so intense Sally caught it from her station. When Cobra reached chest height, he snaked around and began to undo the buttons of Alanso’s shirt. Some must have already hung loose as it didn’t take long before Eli peeled the soft chambray from his best friend.

He paused when Alanso’s wrists became entangled in the fabric. Pinned behind him, the shorter of the two didn’t struggle to get free. In fact, he seemed to linger in the confines of his soft prison, implicitly trusting Eli to drive.

Shaping the result of their actions into pleasure greater than the two of them could have experienced alone seemed effortless for their boss. He used his thumb beneath Alanso’s jaw to tip his head back. Then Eli took advantage of his friend’s prone position to swoop in and seal his lips over the parted mouth of the panting engine master.

Instead of enjoying the show, as Sally would—hell, as she
did
—good ol’ Fawn began to whine. “I thought you two were into me. Not each other.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Alanso hesitated.

If that bitch hurt him or made him timid about expressing his desire for Eli, nothing could hold Sally inside her bay. She’d jab a paintbrush in the woman’s eye and beat her with her own boot.

“I like to be the center of attention.” She pouted.

“Sorry,” Alanso nuzzled her breasts, insinuating his face into her cleavage. “Got carried away there. Good point. Eli, we have to always remember to not let our girl feel left out.”

The endearment from him nearly made Sally sick.

Her knees trembled and her stomach flipped.

Why couldn’t she have been the one to satisfy them?

Fawn made a grab for Alanso, but he resisted kissing her on the lips. “Sorry, I’m not big into that.”

Eli looked at him like he was full of shit. Hell, hadn’t they just been about to suck face for a solid half-hour at least? It’d sure seemed like it from here. Sally could have watched that all day, never mind for a few minutes.

This girl was dumber than she looked. And that was saying something.

“Fine then.” She huffed. “Let’s jump right in. Somebody take their damn pants off. Mine too.”

Eli didn’t hesitate or bother to argue. He reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, then peeled them over her hips. She shed the denim like a snakeskin, making Sally realize how unappealing her own baggy work cargos and paint-slathered coveralls were compared to something like…that.

Once Fawn’s pants drooped to her ankles, she kicked them off with a dainty flick, leaving her boots in place. Sally cringed when the bitch propped those clunky heels on the bumper. Apparently Alanso had his limits too. He removed the shoes with a swipe of his hand over each foot and tossed them a safe distance from the polished automobile.

Seduction had no place here. The guys operated in sync, with efficient yet brusque movements. They had a goal. It was right there between Fawn’s thin, spray-tanned-to-the-point-of-oompa-loompa-orange thighs.

She must have decided not to wait any longer and wriggled out of her skimpy ass-floss, flinging the loop of lace into a toolbox nearby. Without wasting any time, she dipped her fingers onto the heart-shaped landing strip of trimmed hair above her pussy and played boldly with herself.

Sally had to give the girl props on that at least. She would have been a lot more shy.
Note to self: Maybe guys like confidence in bed.
Holding her own in the shop was easy. In sexual situations, less simple. Sometimes she still panicked at that look in a guy’s eyes. The one that proclaimed he was about to take away her control…

Swallowing hard cleared the knot from her throat.

The guys helped too.

They got naked in a hurry.

Salome drooled. For a moment she erased Fawn and the ghosts of her past from her mental scenery. Actually, more like all she could see were the two Hot Rods. Sure, she’d drank in the sight of them shirtless a bazillion times as they strutted around the garage covered in grease and sweat. Or spied them in their shorts, grazing the snack cabinet of their shared apartment in the middle of the night.

She couldn’t even count how often she’d spotted their bare assess when they’d gone through that mooning phase in their early twenties. Oh, those were the good old days. But it’d been a while and the guys had filled out some. More of the artwork she’d approved, and even drafted in some cases, decorated their skin.

To her, they were masterpieces.

The scar on Eli’s elbow where he’d thrown his arm in front of a falling piece of sheet metal to protect Holden made her want to kiss it.

“You first.” Eli graciously gestured toward the willing woman laid out for their enjoyment. He took himself in hand. It surprised her to see he wasn’t entirely hard. Didn’t he want to fuck this bar babe? Or maybe they’d drunk too much to perform up to their usual standards.

They’d been gone forever. And she had no doubt of their prowess. None of them were especially discreet, either with accounts of licentious nights or with the vocalizations of their pleasure when they brought women home. She thought she’d gotten used to it.

Clearly not.

Especially when they’d finally explained what had happened with the crew and how all her dearest fantasies could actually be within grasp. Right before they’d shattered her hopes.

Alanso looked to Cobra, then shook his head. “Be right back.”

Sally gasped when he turned toward her hiding spot. He jogged in her direction, his erection swaying in time to the fluid grace of his strides.
Oh shit!

He tipped his head at the light streaming from her studio. Then shrugged and veered to the right. Into the supply closet.

What the fuck?

Several rapid heartbeats later, he emerged with something shiny in his fist. Condoms. The guys kept an emergency ration on the shelf by the first-aid kit. She had often tried not to notice how quickly the level dropped.

Was it because of her upbringing that she got horned-up by the community of sexy men surrounding her each day? That secret fear had kept her from expressing her misplaced curiosity for years.

Alanso handed the packets to Eli, who ripped one open.

Wetness gathered in her decidedly not ass-floss panties when Cobra grasped his mechanic’s hips, rotated the guy toward him, then sheathed his cock with expert handling. He gave Alanso’s hard-on a few test pulls before slapping his partner’s ass and encouraging him to, “Go get her.”

Fawn wrinkled her nose at the display that warmed Sally’s heart, along with regions slightly farther south.

Alanso stepped between the woman’s knees and tugged her low enough to align her pussy with the tip of his cock. His jerky motions and the way he kept glancing at Eli emphasized the impact of today’s revelations on the man. He was never less than smooth.

“Do it,” Cobra encouraged him. “You wanted to know what it would be like.”

“It’s not the same as I thought,” he murmured.

Eli stepped behind Alanso, blocking some of Sally’s fantastic view. Well, replacing it with a different manscape. He wrapped his lover in his arms and held on for a moment before sliding his hands lower to the still-firm cock and heavy balls at the apex of Alanso’s thighs.

The way he touched his friend, with authority and a sense of how much pressure was enough, awed her. So different than the care she’d taken with the men she’d tried on for size.

Cobra positioned Alanso’s cock so that the tip insinuated itself in Fawn’s pussy.

When the woman’s eyelids fluttered closed and she mewled, Eli swooped in close. He whispered things intended for Alanso’s ears only. If the woman a dick’s length away couldn’t interpret the swish of sound, Sally certainly had no chance. But whatever coaching Eli did seemed to slam Alanso into gear.

Spanish began to flow from his lips. She loved to hear him speak it. He’d taught her enough that they could piss off the rest of the Hot Rods by having coded conversations. But now it was too fast, too broken for her to catch more than a lot of curses.

Ones he meant in a good way, apparently.