Kristal Mosley cringed at the monitor. She’d never liked watching herself on television, but it came with the job. As a news reporter-slash-on-air personality for a small cable television station in Dallas, Texas, she was often in front of the camera doing short news pieces while the “desk jockey” celebrities smiled and read from a teleprompter. Not that she wanted to simply report the news, but if she had to do another “fluff” piece, she was going to hurl.
“Stop it.” Reggie was her best friend and assistant to the head of operations. At times, she thought he knew her better than she knew herself. He took one look at her and understood what she was thinking. “You look terrific.”
“I guess you’d know,” she joked. “Who better than a gay guy to say who looks good?” It was an old joke, poking at the stereotype of homosexual men and fashion.
Reggie flicked a hand at her, waving her off. “Don’t you know it, bee-atch,” he countered, using a high pitch voice. Reggie played along with the game, but he was not effeminate at all. He was built like a brick wall with a beard and a mass of unruly hair. His favorite outfit was an old pair of sweats and a torn University of Alabama T-shirt. He would’ve worn his stained outfit to work if he thought their boss, Harold Gisk, wouldn’t have gone ballistic.
The filmed piece they were previewing was of her standing in front of a historic building in Ft. Worth. The big news story? Whether the city should fund the money to plant new bushes. Yeah, like it would cost more to dig a few holes for shrubs than it did to pay for the police chief’s new squad car. So much for the hard-hitting reporting she’d dreamed of doing when she’d graduated with a degree in journalism from the University of Texas.
As usual, Reggie picked up on her thoughts. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there. You’re still paying your dues. I bet Old Harold will give you the next big story.”
“I hope so.” It didn’t matter if he was right. She should’ve gotten further in her career after three years at the station. Although she’d managed to remain patient, covering stories of kittens being rescued from storm drains and the scores from the local kids’ baseball tournaments were wearing her down.
“How about getting together for a drink later?”
If anyone could cheer her up, it was Reggie. “Sure, but you’re buying this time.”
“Then I’m picking the place.”
“Urgh, Reg. Please don’t make it another sports bar, okay? I don’t think I can handle all the shouting. I mean, come on, it’s only a game.”
He pretended to be horrified. “Only a game? It’s a religion.”
“Don’t give me that. It’s baseball season. Even I know football’s king in Texas.”
“Well, at least you’re learning something.”
“I am, but not tonight. No sports bar.”
“Okay. No problem.” He swiveled his chair toward the monitor. “So is this ready to air?”
Not if she had a say. Unfortunately, she didn’t. There was only so much pizazz she could add to make the story interesting. “Yeah, it’s ready.” She picked up her tablet and slid her palm along Reggie’s arm. “Check you later.”
She headed down the hall to her tiny office. Maybe it was time to make a change. She’d had a couple of online news sites contact her, offering her the chance to be her own boss and choose her assignments, but going freelance was a tough way to make a living. Even if the stories she covered were boring, a regular paycheck was a necessity.
The large man behind her was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, presenting an image of normality, but he had an air about him that was anything but normal. He was so tense he made the word tense seem inaccurate.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She glanced behind him, thinking he had to be with someone to have gotten into the office area of the station.
“I’ve got a story for you.” He spoke in a harsh whisper and glanced over his shoulder.
You, my mother, and a ton of friends. All of them with stories that were either mind-numbingly boring or had been done to death by countless other reporters around the country. She launched into her practiced speech. “I see. And I’d love to talk to you about it, but the station has guidelines. The usual channel for submitting news stories is—”
“No, no. I want you to have it.”
Shit. I’ve got a crazy one.
“What’s your name?” She’d need it for the restraining order.
“Why give the story to me, Mr.…?”
The wild gleam in his eye didn’t make her feel any better. Would security hear her if she screamed? Or were they talking and hanging out in the lounge like they did almost every day?
He didn’t fall for her trick to get him to tell her his last name. “You did the story on the white tigers at the zoo last year.”
Great. He’s a fan. “I did.” She forced a pleasant smile, but was ready to run as soon as he took another step toward her.
He took a quick look around. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but it’s true. Still, you’ve got to believe me.”
She hated it when someone said she had to believe them. Usually that meant they were either lying or delusional. “I’ll do my best.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I saw a man change into a white tiger.”
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner! Crazy is as crazy talks. Still, at least he’s sane enough to know he sounds off his rocker.
She tried not to dismiss him too quickly. After all, why make him angry? “You’re saying a man turned into a tiger. Like a man changing into a wolf? Like in the movies?”
He pointed at her, accusing her. “You don’t believe me. I can see it in your eyes. But it happened. I saw him.”
Time to get the hell out of here.
Kristal didn’t have time to breathe much less to argue. Darion’s mouth crushed against hers. Like a flame set to dry kindling, fire leapt to life inside her. She wanted him. God, how she wanted him.
Clutching him by the hair, she pulled him harder against her. His hands flattened against the wall as he pressed his body against hers. Every part of her wanted him as close as she could get him. Every ounce of her passion screamed for her to open her legs. She moaned, answering his nibbles with her own.
Fever, quick and hot, whipped into her. Her hands traveled along his neck, over his wide shoulders then on to seek his shirt buttons. Her hands trembled too much to work the buttons through the holes. Instead, she grabbed hold and yanked his shirt apart.
His moan filled her throat as he tugged her T-shirt over her head and flung it aside. Next went her bra, torn from her.
“Goddamn.” Darion eased back, took one hungry look at her breasts, then took a nipple in his mouth. His fingers tortured the other one.
“Fuckin’ A.” David yanked Darion’s shoulder, twisting him around. He came behind her, putting her between them again.
She was trapped, all right. Caught between them not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. All rational thought was gone, swept away by a primal yearning she couldn’t name and would never refuse.
Darion worked her jeans free while David lifted her enough for his brother to tug off her running shoes and yank her jeans off. He put her down again then kept going until he knelt behind her. Using his teeth, he ripped her lacy undies off.
She could barely make out what Darion had said, but she grasped his meaning. How could she not when she wanted it as much as he did?
David bit at her butt cheeks, kneading his fingers into her fleshy ass. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”
She tensed, but only until the cool gel slid between her cheeks and around her tight hole. Vaguely, she wondered why he carried lube, but the unsettling thought was gone soon enough.
Darion took her under the arms and lifted her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His swollen cock struck her mons before slipping lower.
She whimpered, annoyed that he might be teasing her. “Fuck me.” She spoke to both men.
Darion grabbed a hunk of her hair and jerked her head back. Her gaze met his.
His eyes have amber in them again. Why?
Again, she couldn’t hold onto the thought. Her sex-craving body wouldn’t stand for it.
“You’re ours, girl. You know it and we know it. Hell, the whole damn town knows it.”
“Say it, baby.” David stood up, leaning backward to press his cock against her tight hole.
She listened to her heart and not her head. “Yes. Yes, I’m yours.” Even if only for a short time.
They plunged their cocks into her, catching her breath in her throat. Pain blistered her, but was soon gone as the throbbing sensation holding them close spun around their bodies. She clung to Darion, aching to do the same with David.
Ramming against her, they crushed her between them at the same time. Doing the only thing she could, she held on and let them do as they wanted. Harder and harder they thrust against her. Deeper they went with each move. They filled her completely as the juices flowed out of her.
She was theirs. As much as it didn’t make sense, she’d never known anything that was truer. Her puffs of air exploded with each slam of their bodies against hers. Darion’s hands cupped her breasts. His teeth, so sharp, skimmed along her shoulder. David’s teeth, just as sharp as his brother’s, stabbed at the skin of her other shoulder. His fingernails dug into her butt cheeks.
Anyone could’ve walked by and seen them. She wasn’t sure many hadn’t already. But she didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them talk. Having these two men was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. One she wouldn’t have given up even if a crowd had gathered around them.
The way Darion said her name sent more juices flowing. She wanted to scream their names, but had no breath to do so. Like a rollercoaster soaring at the peak of the rails, all she could was hold on and whimper her delight.