Sex Retreat(15)

“Not yet,” she replied, crooking her finger back and forth in an effort to beckon Rory. “Come here, you.”

Rory moistened his lips. Leaning forward, he cupped her neck and gave her a succulent kiss.

As his tongue slipped across hers, she clung to Brock’s broad shoulders, riding his denim-clad cock until she was filled with desire and eager for a fuck. A quickie would do.

A sigh fell from her lips and Rory moaned before he abandoned his passionate assault. He moved behind her and grabbed a handful of her hair. “You should know better than to start something right away.”

“I’m setting the pace for our long weekend away.”

Brock locked his teeth over his bottom lip and studied her face. “Did you think we’d settle for a quick wham-bammer?”

“Oh, she thought so all right,” Rory said, lifting her hair and kissing her nape. “Didn’t you, baby?”

“It’s been a while,” she reminded them. “I’m happy with a fast one.” Her hands careened down Brock’s muscular arms. Tilting her head to the side, she allowed Rory better access.

His lips were like velvet. They traveled along the base of her neck before dipping lower, skimming her bare shoulders.

“Now, if you’d only slip around to the front,” she teased, leaning all the way back.

Brock caught her by securing her hips. Rory seized her arms and released a near-musical laugh. “This is some position, doll.”

She reached for his belt. “Give me a minute. I bet you’ll love me upside down.”

Rory loosened his jeans and lowered his zipper. Before her fingers wandered, Brock jerked her to an upright position once more. Then, he let her go, holding her steady until she regained her balance and stood before him.



* * * *



Cash had been exploring the property for the better part of the afternoon. The layout of the camp and the amenities offered were second to none. He felt like a king living on a pauper’s salary.

Mitch had a mighty fine investment in Cow Camp, and Cash hated to see his assets go to waste. If he had the poor bastard’s number, he’d give him a ring and let him know he was enjoying his real estate investment to the fullest.

Lance’s driver had left him with a few hundred bucks, groceries for a week, and enough beer to stock his tiny refrigerator several times over. Unfortunately, partying alone lost its flavor a few hours after his arrival.

The evening before, he hadn’t minded. He’d spent most of the night jacking off with Trixie anyway.

Chuckling aloud, he continued walking toward the main lodge. He remembered hearing Mitch talk about the state-of-the-art facility and vending machines. He was in the mood for a soda and hated to take one of the camp’s vehicles out in broad daylight. Maybe the caretakers kept the machines in working order.

Rounding the bend, he stopped short of reaching the main cobblestone trail. Laughter filled the area.

Cocking his head, he bent his ear and ducked behind a row of bushes. He used his hands to part the cluster of branches and peered between the green mass of tiny leaves.

Cash looked over his shoulder as the muffled voices faded away. Had he panicked without just cause? Was someone there on the property or had the sounds carried across the cove?

“Calm down, Cash,” he whispered, reminding himself he wasn’t in a hurry. It wouldn’t kill him to wait a few minutes and make sure it was all clear and safe to continue his walk.

“Ah! Fuck!” A man screamed out in the distance.

Jolted to an upright attention, Cash was immediately on guard. No doubt, the outburst was too close for Cash’s liking.

“Ah, sugar, that’s so sweet. Suck it, honey. That’s good. Hmmm…”

“What the hell?” Cash muttered, crawling to the second row of shrubs.

“There ya go. Hmm…yeah. Tighten your lips around me. Ah yes, sugar. Suck me, honey. Right there, baby. Use your tongue, Trixie. Mmm…Oh God. Damn. I can’t hold back. I’m coming.”

Trixie? Had the guy said Trixie?

Cash peered around his limited natural coverage.

“Holy fuck!” Cash gulped as soon as he realized he’d spoken a bit louder than before. He ducked out of sight again.

Oh no. This was too good to be true. He’d heard the countless rumors from other prisoners, but he’d never quite believed the stories. Many of the guys had sworn Mitch had shared his women with other men. Trixie Cartwell had been no exception, some of them had told him. Stephen Pratchert had talked about a lifestyle and had claimed Trixie’s mother married two or three men.

He’d heard the rumors. He’d even repeated a few of them, but he hadn’t really believed them. Now he wondered. Could he trust his own eyes?