Read Online Four to Go (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Sandy Smyth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandy Smyth
Tags: Romance
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any more. Oooh. So good, Mike. Keep sucking me, Mike, harder. Suck me harder, Mike! Do it.” Her hands held him firmly as she arched her pussy toward his sucking mouth and exploded with a shriek. Mike wrapped his arms around her hips and gently sucked her clit through her orgasm.
“Bring her here,” said Tom as her shuddering breaths evened out.
John picked her up and carried her over to Tom. He gently deposited her on her feet next to the wheelchair. Kate’s skirt was still tucked up in front, exposing the brown curls covering her cunt.
“Let me just do a preliminary cleaning before you leave the room,” Tom said as he picked up a tissue from the table. He gently spread her pussy lips open and wiped the still-oozing cum from her cunt. Mike got up from the floor and joined John in holding Kate while Tom tenderly cleaned between her legs.
“You’re okay, Kate?” he asked softly.
“I’m fine, Tom. Just fine.”
“Are you ready to go upstairs with Mike and John now?”
Kate exhaled roughly and then nodded her head. “I’m ready, Tom.”
“You’re sure? You’re going to submit to them and follow their instructions, no matter what?”
“Yes, Tom. I’ll submit to them and follow their instructions, at least for today.” She smiled at the raised eyebrow and grin he gave her.
* * * *
Tom watched them exit the room. There were no regrets about what would happen between them sexually today. He wanted and needed it to happen, and would have been there with them every step of the way, watching and participating. But, suddenly, there were other things going on that needed to be dealt with, too. He needed to have a meeting with John and Mike and tomorrow might not be soon enough. Things were happening that he had never anticipated. Very dangerous things. Frightening things. And he needed a few minutes alone to consider what needed to be done and how it should be handled.
Tom locked the wheels of his wheelchair and picked up the footrests. He carefully levered himself upright and walked unsteadily to the cabinet where his brandy was kept. Tom was only a light social drinker, but this morning he needed a restorative shot, badly. He poured some into the bottom of a glass and drank it down in one swallow as if it were medicine.
There was still a lot of pain as well as a decided limp when he walked. For over two years his physical therapy had been primarily to keep the muscle tone and flexibility of his injured leg and arm while his spinal cord slowly healed. In the last few weeks his therapist had insisted he had progressed so far that he could, and should, walk with his crutches or his cane, which he had been using only in the therapy room or in his own room when he was alone. He couldn’t bear to have anyone watching as he stumbled and staggered. Pride was a stone-cold bitch, he acknowledged to himself.
The surgeries scheduled in six weeks would be, hopefully, the last needed to correct some additional nerve and bone fragment problems which had arisen recently with both his arm and his leg. But even the thought of the surgeries couldn’t compare to the shock he’d had this morning. Tom poured more brandy into his glass.
“Not going to offer your best buddies a drink of your special stock of brandy, Tom?” John lounged against the doorjamb, deep slashes of color highlighting his cheekbones and anger flashing from his eyes.
“Tom! What’s going on? You can walk?” Mike looked stunned.
Tom stared down at the brandy swirling in his glass, briefly shut his eyes in pain and frustration, and then downed the brandy in one gulp.
“Help yourselves. My special stock of brandy has always been available for my ‘best buddies.’ Always will be.”
“That’s it? Help ourselves?” John shook his head in disgust. “Damn it, man, we don’t deserve to be treated this way. We’ve been there for you, whenever you needed us. Yet you don’t trust us with the fact that you’re not wheelchair-bound?
“Bring her here,” said Tom as her shuddering breaths evened out.
John picked her up and carried her over to Tom. He gently deposited her on her feet next to the wheelchair. Kate’s skirt was still tucked up in front, exposing the brown curls covering her cunt.
“Let me just do a preliminary cleaning before you leave the room,” Tom said as he picked up a tissue from the table. He gently spread her pussy lips open and wiped the still-oozing cum from her cunt. Mike got up from the floor and joined John in holding Kate while Tom tenderly cleaned between her legs.
“You’re okay, Kate?” he asked softly.
“I’m fine, Tom. Just fine.”
“Are you ready to go upstairs with Mike and John now?”
Kate exhaled roughly and then nodded her head. “I’m ready, Tom.”
“You’re sure? You’re going to submit to them and follow their instructions, no matter what?”
“Yes, Tom. I’ll submit to them and follow their instructions, at least for today.” She smiled at the raised eyebrow and grin he gave her.
* * * *
Tom watched them exit the room. There were no regrets about what would happen between them sexually today. He wanted and needed it to happen, and would have been there with them every step of the way, watching and participating. But, suddenly, there were other things going on that needed to be dealt with, too. He needed to have a meeting with John and Mike and tomorrow might not be soon enough. Things were happening that he had never anticipated. Very dangerous things. Frightening things. And he needed a few minutes alone to consider what needed to be done and how it should be handled.
Tom locked the wheels of his wheelchair and picked up the footrests. He carefully levered himself upright and walked unsteadily to the cabinet where his brandy was kept. Tom was only a light social drinker, but this morning he needed a restorative shot, badly. He poured some into the bottom of a glass and drank it down in one swallow as if it were medicine.
There was still a lot of pain as well as a decided limp when he walked. For over two years his physical therapy had been primarily to keep the muscle tone and flexibility of his injured leg and arm while his spinal cord slowly healed. In the last few weeks his therapist had insisted he had progressed so far that he could, and should, walk with his crutches or his cane, which he had been using only in the therapy room or in his own room when he was alone. He couldn’t bear to have anyone watching as he stumbled and staggered. Pride was a stone-cold bitch, he acknowledged to himself.
The surgeries scheduled in six weeks would be, hopefully, the last needed to correct some additional nerve and bone fragment problems which had arisen recently with both his arm and his leg. But even the thought of the surgeries couldn’t compare to the shock he’d had this morning. Tom poured more brandy into his glass.
“Not going to offer your best buddies a drink of your special stock of brandy, Tom?” John lounged against the doorjamb, deep slashes of color highlighting his cheekbones and anger flashing from his eyes.
“Tom! What’s going on? You can walk?” Mike looked stunned.
Tom stared down at the brandy swirling in his glass, briefly shut his eyes in pain and frustration, and then downed the brandy in one gulp.
“Help yourselves. My special stock of brandy has always been available for my ‘best buddies.’ Always will be.”
“That’s it? Help ourselves?” John shook his head in disgust. “Damn it, man, we don’t deserve to be treated this way. We’ve been there for you, whenever you needed us. Yet you don’t trust us with the fact that you’re not wheelchair-bound?
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