She didn’t answer him in words. Instead she walked over and gazed down at car’s engine.
“Did you name her Sally?”
Samantha tilted her head and spared Preston a quick look.
He must have taken her blank stare for confusion. “After the song by Mark Rice, since it came out the same year your car was born,” he said.
Not many people knew that Wilson Pickett hadn’t recorded that song first. Preston’s intelligence and the sincere expression in his eyes were a dangerous combination. She didn’t think she could ever maintain a “mad” against this man.
Good thing it won’t ever be an issue since I won’t be here longer than it takes to call a tow truck and find a motel.
“No. I call her Baby, as she’s likely the only one I’ll ever have.”
“Now that is a shame, sweetheart,” the unnamed man said. “I’m Charles, by the way. I realize you’re smart enough to know he’s Preston and this one’s Taylor. We’re brothers, and our last name is Kendall. And you are?”
“You had to know with all that red hair she’d be Irish,” Preston said. He edged just slightly closer and looked down with her at the engine.
Samantha caught the way Preston was looking from the motor to her. He’s likely trying to see if I even know what I’m looking at. “It’s a 289 4.7 liter 2 barrel.” Her father had taught her how to do her own oil changes and how to perform simple maintenance procedures required of any car owner. She could change a flat and check all the fluid levels, and had even installed a new set of spark plugs once.
“No,” Charles said. “It’s a 289 4.7 liter 2 barrel with a thrown piston.”
Her gaze snapped up to his. “Why would you say that?”
“We heard the bang of it, and saw the way your car came to a very jerky stop. That wasn’t you jumping on the brakes, I’ll bet, but your engine seizing. Your car is going to need a new engine, Miss Kincaid.”
Charles was right. She hadn’t been the one to make the car jerk to such a sudden stop. “Well, hells bells.” She looked around the town. “Is there a phone booth somewhere? I guess I’ll need to call for a tow, and a mechanic.”
“There’re no phone booths in town,” Preston said. “As well, not a single business is open today. Sorry.”
He certainly didn’t look sorry. “You don’t have to look so happy about that.” It was pretty hard not to smile at the man. Considering the state of her poor car, and the crisis she now faced, the fact she could smile was a remarkable thing, indeed.
“What can I say?” he spread his hands, palms up, as if stating the obvious. “I’m a happy man.”
Samantha exhaled, her breath ruffling her bangs. The heat had built so that she felt as if she was in an oven. Taking a moment to scan the town, she used her wrist to blot at the perspiration on her forehead. It really was incredibly hot—and there really wasn’t a single business open. That fact shouldn’t have surprised her at all. It was, after all, Sunday, and this was a small town.
New York City never closed, but then that city was in a class by itself.
“Miss Kincaid, do you see that rather large house just over there?” Taylor pointed to the south. There were actually two large houses that she could see. They appeared to be standing nearly across from each other but about a quarter of a mile apart. She imagined there were streets or fields between them. The downtown core didn’t stretch that far, and one of the two houses put her in mind of an antebellum plantation home.
“That’s our home. Our parents and our grandparents are in residence, and I know they would be delighted for you to come over and use our telephone. Even if you have to call long distance to have someone come to your aid, that would be perfectly fine.”
“In fact,” Charles said, “if we don’t bring you home and Mother finds out about it, there’ll be hell to pay.”
The mention of family in residence eased her concern about propriety—and at the same time, ridiculously, disappointed her.
She’d eschewed much of her generation’s worship of “free love.” Not that she was a prude, but she did believe that intimacy should only be shared after a man and woman got to know each other.
It completely embarrassed her that the tiny mental fantasy that arose when she thought the word “intimacy” featured her with not one, but all three of these sexy Texan men.
It has to be the heat. Push that thought away right now!
“Oh, dear. You’re looking very flushed. Mother will be annoyed if we let you get heat stroke. You best come along.” Preston took her hand and began to lead her away from her car. “It’ll only take us about ten minutes to walk to the house. I apologize, the three of us were just over visiting some friends. We often leave our cars at home, because our town isn’t very big.”
“If we’d had any inkling we’d be rescuing a damsel in distress today, we’d have driven one of them,” Charles said.
“Although if we had, we may not have been on hand when you needed us, so there you have it.” Taylor seemed quite certain of that.
“Wait. I need to lock my car and grab my purse.”
“I’ll grab your bag for you, but there’s no need to lock your car.” Charles spun on his heal and jogged back to Baby.
“This is Lusty. No one will touch it.” Preston had hold of her hand, and tossed that nugget back to her without breaking his stride.
Her mother had told her, before she’d left home, that for the most part, Texan men were gentlemen in the finest Southern tradition, and would treat a lady with the utmost respect. Samantha made a note that the next time she spoke to her mother, she would have to deliver the news that times—and Texan men—certainly had changed.
They were, all three of them naked, and with the flick of her wrists, and a subtle kicking aside of a silken triangle, she was, too.
It took every bit of her resolve not to cover her breasts or her pussy. She’d been nude before, and even had been seen in the nude a couple of times, but this was the first time in her life she felt totally naked.
“I thought Preston told you to stop thinking.” Taylor quirked one eyebrow and Samantha met his gaze.
“Under the circumstances, it’s hard not to.”
“That’s on us, then. We haven’t sufficiently distracted you.” Charlie stepped forward and scooped her into his arms. He’d moved so quickly and decisively she gasped.
The next thing she knew, the shower had come on. Taylor tested the water, nodded, and then Charlie carried her in, and under the downpour.
Charlie set her down, and as she closed her eyes under the spray, she felt the three men move in close to her, surround her.
And then, oh, God, there were hands on her, so many hands slicked with soap and set on seduction.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
Preston Kendall is a bossy man. At the moment, though, since water was showering down on her and the scent of shampoo filled the glass enclosure, she did as he commanded.
Someone took hold of her hands and raised her arms above her head, and then she felt a tug on her hair. Following the silent directive, she tilted her head back.
“Mmm.” The sensation of having her breasts, belly, and hair all washed at the same time overwhelmed her senses. She shivered, and her pussy clenched, as if looking for a cock to grasp onto. Not one to mince words, she said, “This feels so good.”
“It gets better.” Preston’s whispered words brushed her face. He covered her mouth with his own, his kiss carnal as he plunged his tongue into her mouth.
His hand slid down her stomach in a straight line to her cunt. Fingers delved, and Samantha moaned into his mouth. She couldn’t prevent her hips from rolling toward him, wordlessly begging for more of his touch.
Preston tapered his kiss, then used his lips to caress her throat. Behind her, someone stood flush, and the press of a hot, fully aroused cock rubbed against her ass, nestling at the top of her crack.
“Your cunt is hot and wet. Is it hungry, kitten? Is your cunt hungry for us?”
Arousal soared high and fast. Samantha moaned and nodded, simple words now beyond her. Hungry? No, her body was starving for the touch of these men, nearly desperate to be filled by them.
“I think that’s a yes.” Taylor’s words sounded in her right ear, and then his lips kissed her, nuzzled her, and Samantha shivered.
“I want to feel her pussy.” Charlie’s voice had deepened and taken on a guttural edge. She felt movement and understood he was the one holding her arms aloft, as he maneuvered on her right side and then slid his hand down to join his brother’s.
Fingers stroked and then delved and, oh God, she had two fingers inside her pussy, and it felt so good.
The sounds that emerged from her seemed to thrill the men.
“You are hungry. All right, then, kitten, we’re going to take care of you right now. Come for us, baby.”
I should tell them that’s something I’ve never been very good at…the thought evaporated, fizzing out under the onslaught of their mouths and hands and fingers. Someone pinched and then tugged on her clitoris.
Samantha came, her orgasm exploding out of her, unexpected and completely overwhelming. The sound of her scream echoed against the glass shower enclosure. Arms supported her as her knees lost all strength, and she whimpered as wave after thrilling wave of life-altering energy sizzled through her.
“Hot holy hell, woman, you’re responsive.” Charlie took her left nipple into his mouth and suckled strongly.
“Let’s see how you fly, now that we’ve taken the edge off for you. Now we can love you properly.” Taylor nuzzled her neck and shoulder.
Her arms went lax. She didn’t recall Charlie releasing her hands. Then Taylor’s words penetrated, and she shivered. “Taken the edge off?” There were other words he’d spoken, too. One word in particular, that she didn’t want to hear or even think about.
He probably just said “love you” to be a gentleman, choosing not to use the crasser “have sex with you” or the even baser “fuck you.”
Samantha’s heart raced, her lungs fought for air, and she felt as if every single bone in her body had turned to rubber. Needing to distract herself from her own recent thoughts, she said, “Any more excitement and I may not survive.”
Preston chuckled. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”