Marsha Spencer recognized trouble. When she heard the bottle slam to the floor followed by uproarious laughter, she glanced at the group of guys responsible at the pool tables, shook her head, and passed the waiting waitress a mop and dustpan.
When the next loud crash came from the kitchen behind the bar, she closed her eyes and readied herself for the string of expletives she knew to expect from Donnie, her bouncer who doubled as the cook.
“That’ll be the plate of hot wings for table three.”
Allie paused on her way to clean the first mishap and shot Marsha a nod over her shoulder.
“Tell them it’ll be a few more minutes on their order and give them the next round of beers on the house.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Allie gave her another quick nod and made her way through the crowd.
Marsha glanced at the Budweiser clock on a nearby wall. Barely seven p.m., two minor incidents down, and spirits remained high. If she stayed lucky, Bull’s-Eye Billiards wouldn’t see any worse trouble tonight.
As if on cue, the jukebox drowned out the bar noise with Travis Tritt singing about smelling “T-R-O-U-B-L-E” and the front door opened wide. Porter Bishop strutted inside with his brother, Reid, close at his heels, and Marsha’s heart skipped a beat. The handsome duo headed straight for the bar and her blood pressure headed straight for the moon.
She didn’t want to admire the long legs cased in well-worn denim that carried both men her way. She hated the moist tugs of arousal that stirred in her pussy as she moved her gaze over Porter’s broad shoulders, up the corded muscles of his neck, across the scar on his chin, and locked on his bedroom eyes.
She yanked her attention from Porter, landed it on Reid, and her meltdown continued. Bonier and a smidgen taller, the effect he had on her system was no less maddening or potent than his brother. A slow grin stretched his lips and his do-me eyes sparkled, softening his otherwise stern features. She knew without a doubt she’d just found tonight’s trouble with a capital T squared.
They stopped dead in front of her, both resting their forearms casually on the bar.
“What are you doing here?” she asked loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of music and conversation filling the air.
“Came to have a few beers and play some darts.” The easy, sexy slide of Porter’s voice moved over her like whipped cream.
“That is, unless we’ve been banned from your establishment.” Reid’s sweet, lazy drawl added warmed chocolate to the mix, making her skin tingle.
“The dartboards are closed.” She wished she could say the same for her libido when it came to these two. Both were prime specimens of pure male perfection in their own way, and she should be loathing them more than anyone on the planet. Not lusting after them like some horny teenager. “I’ve got two teams from the dart league playing in about thirty minutes, and they’re likely to keep the boards tied up ‘til around midnight.”
“We’ll try not to drag it out that long.” Porter shot a glance at the far wall of the bar where several members of the teams had already started to gather and practice. “But seeing as you have only two boards, it might.”
Two dartboards, six pool tables, twenty-two small square tables and chairs, and a full-size bar made up the interior of Bull’s-Eye Billiards. Marsha planned to change that soon by knocking out the far wall, extending the gaming space by a good twelve feet and adding more dartboards. Until then, space for the darters was limited.
She blinked at Porter, certain the music playing coupled with the loud conversation had done something funky to her hearing. “What do you mean we’ll try not to?”
Reid removed his Tennessee Titans cap to reveal short, dark hair with a touch of gray at the temples, turned the cap backward, and replaced it on his head. She’d seen him do that before and recognized it as a sign he was ready to get serious.
“Porter and I are part of the Southern Boys. I believe Coby talked with you about taking over the sponsorship for the team.”
Marsha stiffened, now doubly certain her hearing had flown the coop. Yes, Coby had talked to her. She’d agreed to pick up sponsorship of the Southern Boys on Thursday nights as well as another team on Tuesdays after the bar the teams had been playing out of had lost its liquor license last week. Darts had become a big sport in the Spring Valley area in the past decade, spawning the Greater Valley Darting Association to organize events. Coby Tremont was both the captain of the Southern Boys and president of the GVDA.
What Coby hadn’t disclosed to her were the names of the members of his team. Something she could’ve checked out herself on the GVDA website if she’d thought about it.
“First beer is on the house. If the Southern Boys take first tonight, you’ll get another for the win.”
It was the agreement she’d made with Coby to finish out the final six games of the season. If the team stayed together for the next season, she’d also agreed to pay the bar fees to the association. It was a marginal cut into the Bull’s-Eye Billiards’ profits that would be greatly offset by the amount of business the teams would bring in for the sponsorship. Though she’d intended to wait until she followed through with her plans for expansion to make room for additional dartboards, when Coby had come to her, needing a bar for his team to play so they wouldn’t have to forfeit the remainder of the season, she’d said yes on the spot. She likely would’ve taken more time to consider the idea if he’d told her who he had on his team.
Which is precisely why he didn’t tell you.
Anticipation brought her to her tiptoes as he rested his forehead on her belly, his breath fanning her panties, heating the satin to a torturous state. His fingers climbed the inside of her legs, painting a path of sizzling need that raced straight to her pussy. Juices seeped from between her feminine lips, drenching the thin cotton strip between her legs.
“Fuck, you smell delicious,” Porter growled. He caught the triangle of material covering her pussy with a finger and pushed it aside. The sound he made put her in mind of a caged animal fighting for release. “Your pussy lips are bare. Damn, you don’t know how that turns me on. I can see your juices glistening on your lips. You’re soaked, darlin’.”
She was. Her arousal collected in a thick, slick stream between her folds. What would it take to get him to dive a finger into that wetness, to push a digit inside her and take the edge off the rapidly mounting pressure in her channel?
Finger me. Better yet, feast on me, damn it! The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them as she locked gazes with Reid. He must have read the question in her eyes, the plea and turmoil, the demands she wanted to scream at Porter. He cupped her cheek and the expression on his face softened.
“You gave yourself to us, remember.” Despite his tender touch, his tone held a hint of amusement as if he were enjoying her torment.
Oh, she remembered all right, and she had no intentions of being an Indian giver. What she wanted was to increase the speed. She wanted Porter to let his animal out of its cage. She wanted Reid to get naked so she could feel his hard body skin-to-skin. She wanted to take, to explore their bodies as they were doing hers. Holy God of Hormones, she couldn’t handle much more of this.
“We finally got you where we want you.” Porter swiped the tip of his tongue down the crease between her pussy and inner thigh and quickly withdrew. “No way are we bringing an end to it any time soon.”
Did the man intend to send her on a direct trip to the nuthouse before he gifted her with the pleasure her body screamed for? Oh, paybacks were going to be so very sweet when she got her hands on him.
Her mouth watered. She’d never experienced such a strong desire to suck a cock in her life. Reid’s stiff cock pressed into her back, a throbbing presence that only drove her torment higher. Though ways to turn the table on Porter were already forming in her head, she would equally enjoy sucking Reid’s cock down her throat. She wanted Porter’s mouth on her pussy and her lips around Reid’s cock now. Right freaking now!
Reid’s hand moved lightly to the base of her throat as his other hand slipped beneath her breast and lifted it. He raked his thumb over her pebbled nipple and she let her head fall back on his chest. Her mind focused on the touch, on Porter’s mouth that started to deliver one maddening lick after another to the outer edges of her pussy.
“Please.” She couldn’t hold it back any longer. She would beg them if she had to. Forget dignity. It was way overrated anyway.
Reid smothered a smile against Marsha’s shoulder, knowing that softly whimpered plea was exactly what Porter had been waiting to hear. She had given them the green light, told them she wanted them, too. But Porter had still been holding back, taking it slow. He wouldn’t hold back anymore.
He knew when Porter finally landed a kiss where Marsha wanted it most. She went completely limp in his arms. Her head still turned toward his, he watched as she closed her eyes and her lips formed a small but sexy as hell oh of pleasure.
He swallowed, nuzzled his chin at the bend of her neck, and gazed down the front of her body. The neon glow from the Jack Daniels light bathed her flesh in white and yellow, giving her an even more angelic look. The woman’s body was a piece of work naked, perfect curves, delicious swells, and wonderful angles to tempt and tease a man to the point of sheer frustration. He should know. He was nearly there himself, wanting to feel every part of her, to run his tongue along every sun-kissed inch of her flesh.
His cock ached, his shaft so hard it was a wonder he didn’t impale her through her back. And when she started to gyrate against him in obvious time with the thrusts of Porter’s tongue between her pussy lips, he barely swallowed the growl that rumbled in his throat.
One of her hands was now locked around his nape, her nails digging into his flesh. He welcomed the slight bite of pain, wanted it to prevent his mind from centering on his own desires, on his own driving need to be inside her shapely body. He focused on that sting even as he added to her pleasure and his torment by rolling her beaded nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She moaned, her head lolling from side to side on his chest, and her free hand went straight for Porter’s head. That wouldn’t do. Porter might have let her get away with taking over his kiss earlier, with whipping him around the way she’d done, but Reid knew his brother had assumed full control now. He’d allowed her all the liberties he would give her.
“Put your arm around my neck, Marsha.” Her hand on his nape slid more securely around his neck, but her free hand continued on its path to Porter’s head. “Both of them.”
Her fingers touched the tips of Porter’s head and she froze. Reid felt a breath shudder out of her, heard a quiet protesting moan, and realized, though Porter didn’t pull away, he had stopped whatever he was doing to Marsha’s pussy.
“If you want him to continue, put both of your arms around my neck.”