came on her breasts, hot jets draping her chest with more of that incredible scent as the other one popped out and ejaculated again on her back.
And then the world spun and she found herself on her back, the guy with the wallet taking the place of the one in charge at her sex and filling her just as thickly.
She was the one who reached for his silent, commanding friend, bringing his cock to her mouth, pulling him out of his role of spectactor and into her once again.
He was so big that she had to stretch her jaw to fit him in, and he tasted fantastic—nothing like she’d had before. Sucking on him as his buddy fucked her good, she was all about the sensations of being filled, of being invaded by hard, blunt cocks that rocked her body.
In her delirium, she tried to see the man she was blowing, but he somehow always kept his back to the flashlight—and that made everything more erotic. Like she was sucking off a living shadow. Shit, unlike the other one, he made no sounds now, and he didn’t even breathe hard. But he was into it, for real, pushing into her mouth and withdrawing and pushing back in. At least until he popped himself out and palmed up that erection. Holding her breasts together, she gave him one hell of a landing pad to come on, and holy crap, even though it was number three, he covered her.
Until her chest was glossy and slippery and dripping.
Next thing she knew, her knees were up at her ears and the one with the cash was going for broke in the best possible way. And then his boss was at her lips again, pressing in, wanting more. Which she was perfectly happy to give him.
Staring up at them as they moved in sync, she felt a passing fear. Curled beneath them, she had the sense that they could snap her in half if they were so inclined.
But they didn’t hurt her.
And it went on and on, the two of them trading places again and again. They’d obviously done this a lot, and God, she was so giving them her number.
Finally, it was over.
Neither of them said a thing. Not to her or to each other—which was odd because most of the threesomes she’d been in had ended with the pair of idiots high-fiving each other. Not these two. They zipped up their cocks and . . . well, what do you know, wallets were coming out again.
As they stood over her, she brought her hands to her mouth and neck and her breasts. She was covered in so many places she couldn’t count, and she loved it, smoothing what they’d left on her skin, playing with it because she wanted to—not for their benefit.
“We want to give you another five,” the first one said in a low voice.
“For what?” Was that satisfied drawl really her?
“It’ll feel good. I promise.”
“Is it kinky?”
“Very.”
She laughed and rolled her hips. “Then I say yes.”
As the man peeled off the benjamins, there appeared to be plenty of others in that billfold—and maybe if he were someone else, she might have hit up her pimp and told Mack to hold him up out in the parking lot. She wasn’t going to do that, though. Part of it was the incredible sex. More was the fact that these guys would likely beat the ever-living shit out of her boss.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked as she took the money and crushed it in her fist.
“Spread your legs.”
She didn’t hesitate, her knees flopping wide.
And they didn’t hesitate, both of them bending over her weeping core.
Holy shit, they were going to suck her off? Just the thought of it made her eyes roll back in her head and she groaned—
“Ouch!”
She jacked up, but hands forced her back down onto the mattress.
The subtle sucking that came next made her light-headed. It wasn’t on her sex, though. It was right off center on both sides, in the juncture where her legs met her torso.
Rhythmic sucking . . . like nursing.
Karrie sighed and gave herself up to it. She had the shocking sense that they were feeding from her in some way, but it felt amazing—especially as something entered her. Maybe it was fingers—probably.
Yeah, definitely.
Four of them filled her and two separate hands fell into an alternating push and pull as two mouths suckled on her flesh.
She came again.
And again.
And again.
After God only knew how long, they nuzzled her a couple of times—the places where they’d been sucking, not where their hands were.
And then everything was disengaged, mouths, fingers, bodies.
Both of them straightened up. “Look at me,” the leader said.
Her lids were so heavy that she had to struggle to obey. And the moment she did, she felt a searing pain at her temples. That didn’t last long, though, and afterward . . . she was just floating.
Which was why she didn’t pay much attention to the distant, muffled scream that came from next door a little later—not the room that Mack was in, but the one on the other side of her.
Karrie started to fall asleep at that point, dead to the world, the cash glueing to her palm as what had been wet turned to dry.
She wasn’t worried about anything. In fact, she felt amazing.
Fuck . . . who had she been with . . . ?
As Xcor stepped outside the whore’s motel room with Throe directly behind him, he shut the door and looked left and right. The facility that his soldier had chosen for this carnal diversion was on the outskirts of town. Run- down and rotting in places, the single-story building had been cut up into some fifty little cupboard-like boxes, with the office all the way down on the left. He had wanted the terminal room on the other end for privacy, but the best Throe had been able to do was the next in from that.
Though, truly, what were the chances of occupancy? There was hardly anyone here.
Scanning the parking spaces in front of them, he saw a black Mercedes that was desperately trying to look newer than it actually was . . . and a truck with a cap over its bed. The other two cars were way down at the far end, by the office.
This was perfect for the kind of purpose they’d fulfilled. Secluded. Populated with people who wanted no one in their business and were prepared to extend a similar courtesy to others. And the exterior lighting was poor: Only one out of every six bulbs by the doors worked—hell, the lighting fixture next to his head had been smashed. So everything was dim and dark.
He and his band of bastards were going to have to find females of their race to service their blood needs long-term, but that would come. Until then? They would partake from the likes of what he and Throe had just fucked, and they would do it here in this deserted place.
Throe spoke quietly. “Satisfied?”
“Aye. She was well and good.”
“I’m glad—”
A scent upon the air drew both of their heads toward the door to the terminating room. As Xcor inhaled deeply to confirm what he had caught a mere whiff of, the smell of fresh human blood was an unwelcome surprise.
Unlike the expression on Throe’s face. Which was an unwelcome nonsurprise.
“Do not even consider it,” Xcor bit out. “Throe—
The fighter was turning to the door with a thunderous expression—his aggression no doubt inflamed because
