Stick Page 7

  “Why, thank you.” All the irritation slips from Lyndsey's face and her hand flies up to smooth her already impeccable hair. “And I hope you'll stay for dinner.”

  “That's very kind. I'd be delighted to spend more time with you and your family.”

  The way he says 'you' for sure makes her believe she's the only one he wants. I don't know how that bastard does it and so long as he keeps his attention off Scherri, I don't give a fuck.

  “Why don't you settle down in the family room and I'll grab you all some beers,” Lyndsey tells us so that Scher and I gape at each other, awestruck by the sea change in her mother.

  Jacket wanders along with us and flops down on the couch like he's lived here all his life. Completely at ease with himself. I have to admit to a stab of envy at how his life still seems to flow with no resistance. But then again, you never know what someone else is living with inside themselves.

  “So where you hanging now, Dude?” I ask once we're all relaxed with a beer in our hands and Lyndsey's in the kitchen preparing a, no-doubt spectacular, meal.

  “Here and there.” He shrugs with a grin.

  “But where are you based?” I push him.

  “Not really anywhere. I'm on the road. Everything I got in the world's on that bike.”

  “But where do you sleep?” Scherri inserts, not letting him wriggle out of telling us about himself.

  “I can usually find a warm spot to slide into for the night,” he says with a filthy glint in his eye.

  “You dog,” I laugh despite myself. But I don't like the way Jacket is looking at her, his eyes blazing.

  “Wow, you're just free and easy, no ties, no responsibility,” she says.

  I can tell Scher's discombobulated by him but I can't yet figure out if she returns the desire in his eyes. I mean, a girl can look but still belong to another man, right? I don't own Scherri. She's way too much her own girl for that. But still, I've made my claim on her and she's mine now. If I have to defend that, I will.

  “For now I am,” he says. “I go where I want and take what I want.”

  I don't know whether Scher's still pissed at me from earlier about shielding her from the information about our parent's affair. Or whether I'm on edge with her attention directed elsewhere.

  Jacket's presence at the dinner table smooths over the tension that's been lurking there like another, unwanted, guest. He indulges Lyndsey's flirting with perfect mastery and distracts our parents from the all too obvious sexual heat flying between Scherri and I. He also headlong tackles all of Dad's digging questions about our deployment, even deflecting some directed at me. Like he somehow knows the inner turbulence they rake up every time Dad wants to talk war.

  The evening continues with more beers in the den and Dad even drags out some rye for a chaser. He's good and tipsy when Lyndsey tells him it's past their bedtime. We three stay up, unwilling for the night to end yet. Jacket looks back and forth between Scherri and me like he's trying to work out a complex equation.

  “You guys have been through a lot together,” Scherri says quietly, almost a whisper. Her eyes burrow into mine and I can tell she's forgiven me.

  “We know each other better than anyone else,” Jacket says. “Maybe even you.”

  Scherri and I share a secret smile at that. No one knows me better than her. Even with this afternoon's hitch in understanding.

  “You remember that night you made us cry like sissies, Big Stick?” Jacket asks. “The bombs going off all over the city, us guys all lying in our bunks waiting for a call to action and someone suggesting a game.”

  I nod my head, distracted by the look in Scherri's eyes. A look I've never seen. One that makes my cock twitch for her.

  “One of the guys,” Jacket continues “Pinkerton, wasn't it? He says, 'who can recall their first kiss?'”

  A sudden stab of memory hurls at me. Soames was one of the dudes lying on his bunk, joshing me about the sappy story.

  “This guy, I'll never forget it.” Jacket jerks his head toward me. “He had us tough fighter dudes close to tears with some story about his dog and a girl he'd loved forever.”

  “She doesn't wanna hear about that,” I say, now I recall where this is heading.

  “I do,” Scherri says.

  “Yeah, it's a heartbreaker,” Jacket tells her. “'Cuz all the guys were talking about some cheerleader they balled or some girl's mother, for the first time, ya know. Then Stick finally comes out with this tale. His dog, what was his name, the big ol' black lab with the sensitive heart?”

  “Stone.”

  “Duh, of course. How did I forget? Stick 'n' Stone.”

  “So his dog isn't himself. No energy, sleeping all day. Stick finally takes him to the vet and it turns out the old boy is on his last legs with cancer, not gonna last another week.”

  I look at Scher and her eyes are already brimming over. She fidgets around so that neither Jacket nor I notice, but I can hardly miss how she's feeling. Especially as it's hard to bite back my own emotion. Her eyes find mine and either she traps them or I pin hers, maybe it's both of us at once. But together, we lock eyes and relive the moment Jacket's vividly narrating.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  Scherri

  “Oh, Babe, I'm sorry I upset you.”

  Jacket climbs off the sofa and comes to sit beside me, close enough to throw an arm around my shoulders. Close enough to lift a tear drop off my cheek with his agile finger. Close enough that the heady aroma of his masculinity fills my nostrils.

  My eyes fly over to Stick, down the sofa from me and he moves up, just as close, to press into the other side of me. He places his arm around my shoulders also and Jacket flattens his palm on Stick's huge bicep. It's all very friendly and comforting.

  Except my pussy is throbbing out a drum beat I can't ignore. And then Stick reaches his free hand to lift mine and pulls it across to rest on his thick thigh. I feel the tension flexing through the solid muscle. Then, just when I think I might unravel from being sandwiched tightly between two solid hunks of man flesh, the scent of their pheromones more intoxicating than Mr Greengross's rye, Jacket leans in. His chest crushes against my breast for an instant and he also picks up my hand. The one that was digging into my leg in an attempt to keep control over my pulsating clit.

  He places my palm on his thigh, copying Stick's move exactly, then clamps it there, beneath his heavy one, pinning me. His is a little leaner than Stick's but no less rigid with powerful muscle mass. Ohmigod I can hardly catch a breath. The air has sucked out of the room and it's all I can do not to hitch and pant at what's left.

  I'm squished between two gorgeous ripped men. Both hands lying across the hardest thighs I've ever felt and desperately trying not to become aware of how close two strapping dicks are to my palms. With my arms stretched out like this, their biceps nudge at the sides of my breasts and I just know, without having to glance down, that my nipples are sticking out like a pair of loaded bullets.

  I can't bear it. The two sexy gods are being supportive and caring, and what am I doing? I'm sitting here imagining filthy thoughts of a cock in each of my hands. Of first one delicious hunk, then the other, leaning in and flipping a swollen breast out and twisting the nipple until the agony of need recedes. First one gorgeous head then the other tipping down to suck the point between his lips and nip with the edge of his teeth while he mounds the underside and shoves it up to his ravenous mouth.

  I love Stick more than life itself. As if I don't feel guilty enough with what we're doing, sneaking around behind our parent's backs. Now I want more. At least in my fantasy. Of his ex-comrade stripping me bare and sucking my tit in his mouth.

  Love doesn't mean you can't feel attraction. I'm young, I'm horny as fuck and love only makes that more intense. So why do I feel so hotly wrong about visualizing Jacket dropping to the floor between my knees and shoving my thighs wide with his heavy palms? Of him tearing my drenched panties to one side and shoving his tongue all the way into my pussy.<
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  I know that Stick wants to take me in his arms, or kiss my cheek and tell me it's okay. Stone had a great life. He was loved by both of us more than any animal has ever been loved. And now his love has transferred to us two who are left, making it stronger. Stone will live forever in our love. But I guess Stick is worried that Jacket may let something slip to my mother if he finds out about our relationship. So he doesn't hold me and I just sit there, rigid in my filthy desperate lust. Guiltily dreaming of two strapping gods inside my body.

  The heat rises in both men enough to melt my skin. I feel Stick's heart pummeling into my side, faster than I've ever felt him pump blood. Jacket's hand lifts from Stick's bicep to cup the back of my head and that's almost more sensual than the thought of him tugging up my tee shirt and licking his hot tongue across my tortured nipple.

  It's not only my breath coming out in small gasps. Jacket is rasping out rapid breaths and Stick too hitches for air. It isn't my imagination, right? Could they be having the same thoughts? Of stripping me naked and sharing me? Of me being on my knees sucking Stick's huge cock while Jacket slaps his hands on my cheeks from behind then spreads me open to swipe his tongue across my pussy?

  The three of us sit in complete stillness, the silence screaming through the electricity circling us. My cheeks burn hot with the desire licking at my edges and the thought that the two men might be having the exact same thoughts. Or maybe I'm deeply embarrassed by my dirty imagination.

  And then Stick clears his throat, the husk of lust clear in his cough. The spell shatters.

  “So I guess I better be heading out,” Jacket unclamps his hand from mine and I snatch it away as though he's on fire.

  He lifts his arm from my shoulders and unfolds himself from the sofa and rises up, tall and powerful. His jeans are pegged even lower on his narrow hips so I can't fail to notice the line of ink across his pelvis, disappearing into – fuck, I have to stop thinking about that. I'm already in enough trouble here. But I know for sure he has a pretty significant bulge throbbing in there.

  “Where are you going?” I half stutter.

  Jacket looks down on me with a cocky smirk, like he's enjoying me being interested.

  “I mean, it's late. Why don't you crash here?”

  “Yeah, you can take the sofa for the night,” Stick agrees.

  “Cool,” he gruffs. “Thanks.”

  “Okay, see you in the morning then,” I say, desperate to get away from whatever electricity he's pushing out into the atmosphere.

  Stick and I head upstairs and hear the sound of his Dad snoring. At least they've slept through whatever just happened. When we reach Stick's door, he opens it and when I turn to say goodnight, he drags me inside and kicks it closed.

  He shoves me up against the inside and his hands come down against the wood on either side of my face. His huge barrel chest is up close so I'm caged in by him. His breath lands on my upper lip, rasping and raw.

  “I need you, Scher. I need you right now.”

  He doesn't wait for an answer. His mouth slams down onto mine, harder than ever before. Stick is a beast with his tongue, almost feral as he fucks my mouth and yanks my tee up so my tits bounce free. He mashes the flesh in his hands, tugging and twisting both nipples until I cry out. He slams a hand over my mouth and pulls my pants and underwear down at the same time with the other. His fingers probe into my slit, pulling it apart and pinching my swollen hard clit so I gasp under his stifling palm.

  “Your fucking soaked, Scher,” he grits out.

  And I don't know whether he's mad about that. Whether he thinks my slickness is partly due to Jacket. All I know is I need Stick buried all the way inside me more than I've ever needed anything in my life.

  When he frees his dick, he immediately finds my dripping pussy mouth and my hands fly to his shoulders, clawing at the muscle as he thrusts into my hole and pummels me until barely moments later, we both go crashing over the edge.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stick

  I keep Scherri in my bed all night. I don't want her alone and I want the warmth of her skin seeping into my muscle. The flowery aroma of her hair mixed in with our sex. I don't give a fuck who finds out we're in the same bed, although I do take the precaution of locking the door.

  I pull her back into my chest, our legs entwined and both my arms tightly circling her. She doesn't object to the constricting hold. She just wriggles her way into me like she's making herself comfortable and we fall asleep like that, our breathing matched.

  I jerk awake in the night, sure I hear some noise. But it's no doubt my imagination. Sleep is not something I'm at one with anymore. Although with Scherri here, I dropped off faster than ever and slept longer than usual. No dreams either, which is a bonus. I nuzzle her neck and she writhes sleepily so I leave her to her own dreams. Hoping they're only of me.

  Because Jacket clearly wants her. I know that bastard and I could tell he was interested from the moment he met her. What I'm still not clear on is how Scher feels. I ought to think that whatever she wants is what I want too. But fuck that, because I've waited too long for this moment of being with her and nothing's coming between us.

  “What is it, Baby?” she squirms in my arms and murmurs in a kitteny sleep voice that has my dick lifting against her soft butt cheek.

  Fuck, do I yearn to be buried inside her ass again? I cup her breast and squeeze gently, loving the firmness, the responsive nipple that pops up for me even though she's half asleep.

  “Nothing,” I murmur. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Don't say nothing. I can feel the tension mounting in your chest.”

  “Just weird having him here.”

  “Does it bring back bad memories?”

  “Hmph,” I exhale, my walls up against letting her know I'm worried about losing her again.

  “'Cos maybe it was hard for Jacket too,” she whispers. “And he's dealing with it in a different way.”

  “By being an ass?” I low snarl into her ear. My need to possess her building again.

  “Yeah, maybe. If that's what you think he is.”

  “You're taking his side.” I grit out, the rigid tension in my muscles making me flex.

  “Never,” she purrs but with a force I haven't heard from her 'til now. “There are no sides for me, there's only you.”

  That makes me want her even more. My dick is rigid steel with the urgent need to slide into her wet pussy. I reach around and slide two fingers into her slick crevasse and she shivers against my chest.

  “I'm more concerned about making new ones,” I say, getting back to the memories.

  “What does that mean?”

  She writhes in my grasp and rolls over to face me. Her gorgeous tits pressing into my chest, so my cock prods at her belly. She takes it in one hand to caress my length, making me moan as we talk. I kiss her nose, then her mouth and we completely forget our train of thought as I roll over and pull her on top of me.

  She sits up, straddled across my pelvis with my granite hard pole between her folds. I thumb her clit, making her whimper. She places her palms on my sheet of abs to lift her spread pussy and locate my head in the hollow of her hole. Then she shoves back down so my cock slides all the way into nirvana.

  Scherri rides my length like a bucking Bronco. Like she didn't just consume my cock a couple of hours ago. We're a pair of starving wild animals, grappling at each other, overwhelmed by the feverish desire that quenches for a brief moment before returning stronger than ever. Once she milks my cock with her clenching pussy, she flops back down, limp in my arms and falls asleep sprawled across my chest.

  I stay awake just because I love watching her sleep so peacefully on top of me. Her soft breath tickling at the skin covering the pec she's using as a pillow. I stroke lightly across her silky hair and inhale the aroma of her. Unique to her. Unforgettable.

  Around dawn she twists around and rolls over, off my chest and tangles herself up in the sheet before falling right back into a deep sl
eep. I smile and kiss the back of her bare shoulder than climb out of bed. I pull on some sweats and head downstairs to make coffee. Maybe some fresh juice to bring to her in bed before anyone else is awake.

  I'm waiting on the brew when the back door softly opens. My hackles rise, my fists clenched ready to deal with any intruder.

  “Fuck man, you gave me a fright,” Jacket says when he comes upon me, charged to take him down.

  “Where the fuck – I thought you were taking the couch.”

  “I just stepped out for a brew. You know – hard to sleep sometimes.”

  I notice the sofa hasn't been slept in. Yeah, I know about that. I guess he found some willing babe to provide him some company. And he's already ducked out on her. Well, I've done the same myself. Before Scher came back into my life that is. Jacket hitches onto a stool across from me and points at the coffee, now done.

  I pour him a cup and almost fling it at him when he suddenly says; “Listen, Dude do you mind if I fuck your sister.”

  “Ya, I do fucking mind,” I grit, every pore constricted, ready to knock him to the ground.

  He raises his palms with an 'okay chill' demeanor and says; “No problem. I wouldn't normally ask permission, but you being an old pal...”

  “What makes you even think she wants your ass?” I hound him, the rage brewing.

  “Just a thing – last night on the sofa. The three of us there.”

  “The three of us,” I repeat.

  So he felt it too. The energy that flew around the room when we both moved in to take care of her. Did Scher feel it? The heat that rose when we three were seated close? Does she want him too? I don't even know if that's a thing for her. If she's imagined two men inside her. If she wants that.

  “No problem, Bro,” Jacket rasps. “I kinda figured it would be a bond between us, ya know. Like it'd make us sort of half brothers – what with me owing you my life.”