Dalton, Tymber - Stoneface (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (8 page)

Tim loved it when Jack took him like this, rough and possessively. Every inch of his body felt alive, and he practically shivered when he heard the familiar
snick
of the top being popped on the bottle of lube.

“You ready for me, baby?” Jack asked.

“Always.” He drew his knees back into his chest, opening himself wider to his lover. Jack drizzled the lube over his taint and into his ass, then worked some inside him with a finger. The coolness of the lube against his flesh only served to accentuate his need.

Jack slathered lube over his cock before lining the head up with Tim’s rim. “I’m going to fuck you so good, baby.”

Tim stared into Jack’s face. His brown eyes looked nearly black with passion. “Take me. Do it.” As always, when he felt the tip of Jack’s cock first breach his body, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the stretching sensation. Jack slowly fed his member into Tim’s ass until he was completely buried inside him and his balls rubbed against Tim. Then Tim opened his eyes and looked up at Jack.

Jack’s eyes dropped closed. “Oh, yeah.” He lowered himself down onto Tim and held his wrists with both hands. Tim wrapped his legs around Jack and held on for the ride. He felt his cock rubbing along Jack’s stomach and knew he would explode long before Jack did.

He felt cocooned in Jack’s embrace, his lover’s arms holding him a willing captive as Jack started a slow, steady rhythm, withdrawing almost to the tip before thrusting deep within him again.

Tim felt his lover’s skin grow slick where his own pre-cum leaked between them. The delicious sensation only added to the friction he felt. “Man, I’m going to come.”

“Not yet,” Jack murmured. “Hold in it, babe.”

Tim knew he sounded like he was whining and didn’t care. “I can’t hold it. Please, don’t stop!”

But that’s exactly what Jack did, buried deep inside Tim. His lips came down possessively, his tongue deeply plunging and exploring Tim’s mouth as Tim frantically wiggled and squirmed and tried to coax Jack into moving again. But pinned like that, beneath the larger man’s body, Tim couldn’t do anything but wait for Jack to decide when the fucking could continue.

“I love the feel of your body,” Jack whispered.

Like this, Tim knew, he came as close to ever seeing the true Jack, the man without barriers and walls and emotional pain, as he ever could. “Then fuck me, dammit. I need you!”

Jack chuckled and finally started moving again, much to Tim’s relief. “Oh, hell yeah,” Tim nearly sobbed, relieved. He felt his balls tighten as his climax built deep inside him.

“You going to come hard for me, baby?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, you know it.”

“Then do it.” He slammed his hips into Tim, building his thrusts into a nearly brutal force and tempo until Tim’s cock exploded. His cum smeared between them as Jack slid back and forth along his body.

“Yes!”

Jack rose up on his arms, releasing Tim’s wrists as he pounded into Tim until he cried out with his own release. Then he held still for a moment, head bowed, until he finally caught his breath and pulled out.

Tim immediately sat up and pushed Jack over onto his back. He grabbed a washcloth from their bathroom and wiped the cum off them, then cleaned Jack’s cock before tossing the cloth back into the bathroom.

Satisfied, he slid into bed with Jack and snuggled against his side. “That was fantastic.”

He didn’t miss the pleased smile that flitted across Jack’s face. “You’re just saying that.”

“Babe, you know you’re the only guy I want.” He planted a kiss on Jack’s lips before settling in again. “Forever and ever. I love you.”

Jack cuddled him closer. “I love you too, Tim.”

Tim closed his eyes and felt sleep overtake him.

* * * *

Jack stared at Tim’s peaceful, sleeping face and thought about their earlier conversation. Yeah, he’d had girlfriends before. Not many. Only four total, Mel being the last. He didn’t want to talk about Melodie. It hurt badly enough thinking about her.

He’d never told Tim anything about Mel other than how she…died.

How she was murdered was more like it, even though it was, technically, an accident.

Thinking about her always brought a wave of grief, followed by anger. Because when she died, he didn’t just lose his girlfriend. It meant Jack had to cope with losing his other love—his boyfriend—to jail, leaving him totally alone.

To this day he never understood why Mel let Pete drive drunk. Why didn’t she take the keys from him? She was a strong-headed woman and had never tolerated that before. He couldn’t imagine what would have led her to letting Pete drive. If nothing else, she never would have gotten into the car with him.

He hadn’t spoken to Pete since that night. He’d first been grief stricken she’d died, worried because Pete was hurt, too. Then to find out Pete was drunk when they crashed…

Jack burned, unopened, every letter Pete had sent from jail. Nothing Pete said to him could make Jack forgive him for killing Mel and leaving him totally alone. Had it been an honest accident, it would have been different.

In Jack’s eyes, Pete murdered her.

No one had known the three of them were anything but roommates, and that she was Jack’s girlfriend. They’d lived and loved together. Talked about moving to California, where Melodie had grown up, to live openly together as a threesome. Made plans to move the next spring.

Maybe even start a family together, the three of them.

He’d loved both of them so much, more than he ever thought it possible to love someone.

Then they were gone.

Jack preferred to totally cut ties, to treat Pete’s incarceration as a second death. To grieve and move on. It was also why he decided to switch majors in college from English and go into law enforcement, to help take drunks off the street so others didn’t have to die.

It was the only way to keep the anger from eating him alive, even though he missed like hell having not just one, but two people to love and laugh with.

Stoneface.
He didn’t want to tell Tim anything more about what happened than he’d told anyone else, that his best friend killed his girlfriend in a drunk driving accident. Maybe one day he could admit it to him, but it still hurt too much.

Chapter Six

Jonathan and Markham pinned Shelaine between them, their large cocks buried inside her, thrusting and withdrawing like independent living beasts all their own. Passion had turned her limp legs to jelly. She wanted nothing more than to lay there between them and hear them say, “Where did you want to go for breakfast…”

The slam of a door from a nearby room startled Gwen awake from her hot dream about Jonathan and Markham, her latest wolf shape-shifting heroes. She heard two men discussing nearby restaurant options as they walked away out of earshot.

Disoriented, she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Where the fuck am I?

She groaned as she closed her eyes again.
Rapid City.
She fumbled for her BlackBerry and squinted at it. It read five fifteen a.m., but outside her window, she saw grey light creeping around the outsides of the generic hotel curtains. Was that five o’clock local time, or five o’clock home time?

She sat up and looked at the clock on the bedside table.

Local time.

She’d been so exhausted the night before that she’d just dumped her suitcase on the bed and not opened it. She unzipped it, pleasantly surprised to see Liam had also included the notebook, photo CDs, and a few of the brochures Amy had shipped.

She didn’t want to call yet, in case he wasn’t awake. She figured out the room’s tiny coffeemaker. While it brewed her a morning cup of wake-up, she crawled into the shower and stood under the hot water until she felt marginally human again.

Dressed and slightly caffeinated, she tried Amy’s phone first, even though she didn’t expect her sister to answer. It went straight to voice mail.

“Look, I don’t care why you’re not coming home, but please call me and talk to me, okay? Bye.” Gwen didn’t want to tell her she was here looking for her in Rapid City, in case Amy decided to hide.

Next call—Liam. He answered on the second ring. “Did you find the notebook in your bag?” he asked her.

“Thank you. I didn’t even think of packing that. Any problems with Mom?”

“Nope. She already called once. I told her to please not bother us today because we’re working on your website and I need to concentrate.”

“You think she will?”

“Hopefully at least until dinnertime. If she calls you, don’t take it. Call me first in case I’ve talked to her.”

“Roger.” She flipped through the notebook and looked at Amy’s notes. “Hold on.”

“What?”

She read. “Her notes about Mt. Rushmore. ‘We didn’t have any trouble hiking the trail down to the Sculptor’s Studio.’”

“‘We’? She wrote ‘we’?”

“Yeah.” She flipped through the pages. “Most of the time she refers to I or me, as if she’s alone. Here’s another ‘we’ talking about Wind Cave. It’s like she’s slipped and missed it. Most if it refers to her alone.”

“Any luck with the front desk?”

“No. Last night the clerk was a bitch and wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m going to try again this morning. Then I’m going to the police and see what I can find out. I doubt they’ll do anything yet.”

“I’m going to work on her credit cards more. There was a charge for a gas station three days ago in Rapid City, but no hotel charges. Or maybe she’s using her bank card. I don’t have the access code to get into that.”

“Just use the forgot password feature and log in to her mail again to retrieve it.”

“I don’t have her user ID code for the site or I would, believe me. I’d have to go home to Mom and Dad’s and toss her desk to find her files.”

“Ooh, that sounded very
Magnum, P.I.
-ish.”

Liam faked a snooty British accent. “Zeus, Apollo, sic balls.”

Gwen giggled. Living with Liam would be fun. If it hadn’t been for her parents, she would have gladly offered to move in to take care of him, except she’d been in the middle of divorcing Dickweed.

Not to mention she refused to live with her parents. “When I find her, do you want to hold her down while I pound her, or vice versa?”

His voice turned serious. “If.”

At his tone, a chill settled over her. “Don’t talk like that.
When
I find her. I
will
find her. I don’t know what hair crawled up her ass, but I’m yanking it out.” A thought hit her. “What about her cell phone records? Don’t calls show up there? Maybe we can find something out.”

“No good. I already tried. Nothing but calls to you, me, Mom, Dad, and her job. Get this though, I saw an empty box in her trash for one of those TracFones a few weeks ago. So whoever it is she’s talking to, she doesn’t want it traced.”

“Or he doesn’t,” Gwen said.

“Exactly. So that’s a dead end regardless.”

They said good-bye, and she browsed through the notebook again. Anal-retentive perfectionist Amy had meticulously detailed when she visited the sites.

Gwen fired up her laptop and popped in the first photo CD. The pictures were, in typical Amy fashion, neatly arranged in folders by date, and further by location taken. Gwen browsed through them. Amy appeared in quite a few of the pictures. It didn’t hit her until ten minutes later why.