Lover Unleashed

FORTY-THREE

As tricks went, this one was fucking weird. “So where’s your friend at?”

Karrie Ravisc, a.k.a. Kandy on the streets, had been doing the whore thing proper for about nine months so she’d seen a lot of shit. But this . . .

The huge man by the motel room’s door spoke softly. “He’s coming.”

Karrie took another toke and thought, Well, at least the one in front of her was hot. And he’d also paid her five hundred and set her up in this room. Still . . . there was something off here.

Weird accent. Weird eyes. Weird ideas.

But very hot.

As they waited, she lay buck-ass naked on the bed with all the lights off. It wasn’t totally dark, though. This john with the heavy wallet had set up a big boxy flashlight across the room, over on the cheapie dresser. The beam was pointed so that it shone on her body. Kind of like she was onstage. Or maybe a piece of art.

Which actually was less weird than some of the things she’d done. Shit, if prostitution didn’t make you think men were nasty, sick bastards, nothing else would: Aside from your run-of-the-mill cheaters and the types who were on power trips, you had fuckers with foot fetishes, and those who liked to get spanked, and others who wanted to get pissed on.

Finishing up her White Owl, she stabbed out the stub and thought maybe this spotlight thing wasn’t so bad. Some jackass had wanted to eat hamburgers off her two weeks ago and that had just been gross—

The click of the lock turning into place made her jump, and she realized with a start that someone had somehow arrived without her knowing it; that was the door being locked. From the inside.

And now there was a second man over by the first.

Good thing her pimp was right next door.

“Evenin’,” she said, as she stretched mechanically for both of them. Her breasts were fake, but they were good fake, and her stomach was flat even though she’d had one kid, and she was not just shaved, but electrolyzed.

All of which was how she got to charge what she did.

Man . . . another big one, she thought as the second guy came forward and stood at the foot of the bed. Actually, this fucker was huge. Absolutely mammoth. And not as in fat and sloppy—his shoulders were so square they looked drawn on with a ruler, and his chest formed a perfect triangle into his tight hips. She couldn’t see his face, given the light that streamed from behind him, but it didn’t matter as the first john stretched out on the bed next to her.

Shit . . . she suddenly found herself turned on. It was the size of them and the danger of the darkness and the scents. Jesus . . . they smelled amazing.

“Roll onto your stomach,” the second one demanded.

God, that voice. The same foreign accent as the guy who had set this up, but so much deeper—and there was an edge to it.

“You really want to see my ass?” she drawled, as she sat up. Cupping her DDs, she hefted them and then squeezed them together. “Because the front of me is even better.”

With that, she stretched one breast up and extended her tongue downward, licking her own nipple while her eyes went back and forth between the men.

“On your stomach.”

Okay, clearly, there was a pecking order here: The guy lying next to her was sporting a tremendous erection, but he made no moves toward her. And Mr. Do-It-Now was the only one talking.

“If that’s the way you want it.”

Pushing the pillows off the bed, she made a show of the roll, twisting her torso around so that one of her breasts was still showing. With her black fingernail, she ran circles around the tip as she arched her lower back and stuck out her ass—

A subtle growling weaved its way through the stale, still air of the room, and that was her cue. Spreading her legs, she curled the lower halves up, pointing her toes and arching her spine again.

She knew exactly what she was showing the one at the end of the bed—and his growl told her he liked what she had. So it was time to take it further. Looking back at him, she put her middle finger in her mouth and sucked on it; then she shifted her weight up and took it down to her sex, rubbing herself.

Whether it was the weed or . . . shit, something about the men . . . she was really frickin’ horny all of a sudden. To the point where she wanted what was about to happen.

As he loomed over her, the one in charge put his hand to the front of his hips.

“Kiss her,” he ordered.

She was so ready for that, even though she didn’t normally allow it. Turning her face to the other one, she felt her mouth get owned by a set of soft, demanding lips . . . and then a tongue entered her—

Just as big hands latched onto her upper thighs and spread her farther apart.

And another set of hands went for her breasts.

Even though she was a professional, her mind went on a little road trip, all the shit she usually preoccupied herself with while she was doing what she did fleeing—and taking with it things like, where were the condoms? What were the ground rules?

Buckle. Zipper. And then the sliding sounds of pants going down and the bucking of the mattress as something heavy got up on it.

Dimly, she wondered whether the cock that had been sprung was as big as the rest of the man behind her—and if it was, she thought, hell, she might be willing to give them a second round for free. Assuming they could go that long—

A blunt head pushed into her as hands lifted her hips off the mattress and got her on all fours. God, he was huge—and she braced herself for a hammering as a palm rode up her spine and fingers threaded through her short hair. He was going to yank her head back, but she didn’t care. She just wanted even more of him inside—

Except he didn’t get rough and he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stroked her as if he liked the feel of her flesh, running his hand down onto her shoulders and again around to her waist . . . and then down further to her wet sex. And when he entered her fully, it was on a smooth slide, and he even gave her a second to get used to his girth and length.

Then he locked onto her hips with his palms and got with the fucking. Just as his friend pushed himself under her to suck on her hanging breasts.

With the pace intensifying, her nipples whipped back and forth across the mouth of the one underneath her to the beat of the slapping hips that hit her ass over and over again. Faster. Harder. Faster—

“Fuck me,” she barked. “Oh, fuck, yeah—”

Abruptly, the one lying on the mattress pivoted himself, repositioned her and filled her mouth with the largest cock she’d ever swallowed.

She actually had an orgasm.

They kept going like this and she was going to tip them.

A split second later, the man behind her pulled out and she felt something hot spray across her back. But he wasn’t finished. He was at it again a moment later, as fat and stiff as he’d been on the first stroke.

The one she was sucking off was moaning, and then she was separated from him by his lifting her head. He 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.

Boom! Thump. Bump . . .

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—Fuck.”

The fighter was turning to the door with a thunderous expression—his aggression no doubt inflamed because that was female blood being spilled: The fertility was obvious in the air.

“We have no time for this,” Xcor spat.

In a manner of reply, Throe kicked the fucking door in.

As Xcor cursed, he only briefly considered dematerializing out of the scene; all it took to cure the impulse was a look inside. Throe’s ridiculous heroic streak had opened the way to a mess. Literally.

A human female was tied down onto the bed, with something crammed into her mouth. She was almost dead—and too close to the edge of her grave to save. Her blood was everywhere, on the wall beside her, dripping onto the floor, soaking into the mattress. The tools of whoever had done this were on the bedside table: two knives, duct tape, scissors . . . and half a dozen small clear jars with colorless fluid in them and tops that were set aside.

There were things floating in the—

A slam echoed out of the bathroom. As if a transom or window had been opened and shut.

As Throe ran in, Xcor lunged forward and caught the other male by the arm. In a quick one/two, Xcor unclipped the steel cuff he kept on his weapons belt and clamped it on the thick wrist of his soldier. Hauling back with all his weight, he hauled the male around, swinging him like the ball on the end of a chain. There was a thump on the far wall as the cheap plaster stopped the vampire pendulum.

“Let me go.”

Xcor yanked the guy right in close. “This is not your concern.”

Throe pulled back his arm and threw out a punch into the wall, smashing the flat plane. “It is! Release me!”

Xcor slapped his palm on the back of the male’s neck. “Not. Your. World!”

They struggled at that point, the two of them wrestling and knocking into things, creating more noise than they should. And they were just about to fall on the bloodied carpet when a human man with no neck and sunglasses the size of windowpanes slid into the doorway. He took one look at the bed, another at Xcor and Throe, and then he muttered under his breath, covering his eyes with his forearms as he ducked out.

A split second later, the door to the room they had fucked in opened and shut . . . then opened and shut again. High heels clip-clopped fast and uncoordinated, and there was a clomp, clomp of people getting into a car.

An engine roared and the Mercedes peeled out of the parking lot, no doubt with the whore and the cash in it.

And didn’t the fast departure prove Xcor’s assumption about the clientele here.

“Listen to me,” he said to Throe. “Listen to me, you stupid bastard—this is not our problem. But if you stay here, you make it so—”

“The killer got away!”

“And so are we.”

Throe’s pale eyes shot over to the bed, and the mask of anger slipped for a brief moment. What was underneath arrested even Xcor’s aggression. Such pain. God, such pain.

“She is not your sister,” Xcor whispered. “Now come with me.”

“I can’t . . . leave her. . . .” Wide glassy eyes hit his. “You cannot ask me to.”

Xcor spun around while keeping hold of his soldier. There had to be something of the murderer’s in here, something they could—

Xcor dragged his fighter into the bathroom, and there was a grim satisfaction to be found upon the window above the toilet. The single, thick pane of frosted glass was unbroken, but there was a bright red streak on the edge of the sharp metal casing.

Just the remnant that they needed.

Xcor reached up to the window and ran his two fingers around what had caught and torn the flesh of that human.

The blood cleaved unto his flesh, pooling.

“Open,” he commanded.

Throe parted his mouth and sucked those fingers down, closing his eyes to concentrate as distant sirens began to peal through the night.

“We must needs depart,” Xcor said. “Come with me now and I shall grant you leave to find the man. Agree? Nod.” When Throe did, he decided he needed more. “Swear to me.”

Throe bowed at the waist. “I so swear.”

The cuff came off . . . and then the pair of them disappeared into thin air just as flashing blue lights announced the arrival of the human police.

Xcor was not one for mercy on any occasion. But if he had been, he would have offered no pity unto that human defiler—who was now Throe’s target . . . and soon to be prey.