Midnight Curfew

Chapter 1

Dallas

My favorite brother got out of prison today. And where is he now? Pounding down drinks with friends? In bed, coming inside something other than his hand for a change?

No. I shake my head. He’s home, sleeping like a priest down the hall from my three other brothers, who all seem to have lost their edge, as well.

Five fucking men in the family, and only one is a proper functioning Jaeger anymore.

“Is he tied up?” I ask my friend.

“Good and helpless,” Rip replies as he secures Mr. Coldwell to a chair somewhere behind me. “Just the way you like.”

Yeah, I do.

And I like the sardonic taunt in Rip’s voice, telling me he’s all in.

I love my friends almost as much as I love my family. With Rip Rodriquez behind me and Tyson Alarcon at my left, I don’t lament that all my brothers are slumbering at home, bellies full and content in their docility now that a woman lives there. Pets.

Timothy Coldwell sucks in air, exhaling hard. “We have jewelry,” he says. “And my car. The keys are on the dresser.”

I stand at the end of his bed in his master bedroom, which smells fresh and clean with scents probably named dumb shit like white tea and purple sage. My house smells like leather and tires, no matter how many candles my brother’s wife burns.

Taking the bottom of the sheet in my hand, I tug it ever so gently, Mrs. Coldwell gripping the other end as she holds it up to shield her body.

Moonlight spills through the sheer curtains, glowing across her young skin.

“Yeah, Coldwell.” I grin behind the black bandana covering the bottom half of my face as I stare at his wife.

“You got lots of pretty things, don’t you? ”

Her blue eyes peer up at me, like a deer in headlights, her long blond hair blanketing her naked arms and back. A lock hangs over her left eye as she stares at me.

Rip falls in at my right, the three of us gazing down at a woman who barely looks like she’s had a single cock, much less three in one night.

Twenty-four—maybe twenty-five, she’s at least two decades younger than her husband, velvet skin without a single tattoo, scar, or blemish that I can see.

She’s not being properly appreciated by that balding fuck, that’s for sure.

Drinking her in, I trail my eyes down her smooth arms, over the toned curve of her hip peeking out of the sheet, the little string of her panties strapped over her supple skin.

With feet flat on the bed, her knees are bent and parted under the sheet as she sits there, frozen since we burst in two minutes ago.

“Please,” Coldwell begs behind us. “My watch. Take it.”

“We’re not a pawn shop.”

“There’s a little cash in the safe,” he adds.

I snap the sheet, ripping it from her grasp. She squirms, looking left and right, but there’s no help and nothing else to cover her. “But not enough?” I ask her husband.

Dropping my eyes to her tits, I watch the skin of her nipples harden, shaking with her shallow breathing.

“I hope not,” Tyson jokes.

Yeah, there are other ways we’d prefer to get paid tonight, I tell myself, the fantasy taking over.

With her hands pressed to the mattress at her sides, she shies away as the three of us leer over her, and I can’t help but take all of this in from her point of view. On her ass, staring up at a man and knowing he likes what he sees.

And what he wants from you.

Her fingers dig into the sheet as she curls them into fists, and I feel my own nails grate across the fabric as if I’m her.

Lips trembling, she whispers, “Please…”

Sweat cools my bare chest, that June Floridian heat permeating this nice air-conditioned mansion.

“Your husband is in debt with the Bay,” I explain, cracking my knuckles. “This is how you pay.”

I hear Rip lick his lips, Tyson cocking his head.

I start to unfasten my belt.

Her eyes go wide again, and she shakes her head. “No, no, no…” she whimpers, trying to look around us toward her husband. “We have money. We can pay.”

Tyson walks around the left side of the bed, Rip to the right.

“Timothy?” she begs her husband.

The fidgeting, the staggered breathing, the muscles flexing in her thighs…God, she’s good.

Beautiful, too. I clench my jaw, my dick swelling so hard I need out of these clothes.

I turn my eyes over my shoulder, her husband sitting with his hands tied behind him and a rope securing his torso to the chair.

“You can buy yourself another week.” I give him one last chance. “A finger or a fuck?”

He opens his mouth, then darts his eyes to his wife and back to me.

“All three of you?” he asks.

She sucks in a breath, and I exhale a laugh. Of course he’d rather trade her than one of his fingers.

He trembles. “You won’t hurt her?”

My eye twitches even as I hide a smile behind the bandana, equal parts disgusted and elated.

Fucking piece of shit…

But would any St. Carmen fat-cat plutocrat choose differently? Their women are commodities to them, but unlike prime real estate, they are also replaceable.

She deserves a real man.

“Timothy?” she whimpers, the panic draining the color from her doll-like face.

I turn to the side, letting him see her. “I need your help, baby,” he pleads in a soothing voice, as if he’s talking to a child. His cock in his black pants juts through the fabric. “I need you to let these boys fuck you.”

A stricken look hits her eyes, her tits jiggling with her panic.

“Let” us…

What the fuck is he going to do if she says no? Stop us?

They’re not letting us do anything.

Belt hanging open, I unfasten my pants as Tyson and Rip pull open their belts. “Take off your panties,” I say in a low voice, eyeing her.

She gasps, scrambling backward, but I grab an ankle and haul her to the end of the bed.

Lashing out, she kicks, swinging her arms as I reach down and take hold of her.

Mrs. Coldwell scurries back again, and I drop a knee to her mattress, yanking her in by the backs of her legs and hauling her up to straddle my lap.

I wrap my arms around her. “Shh…” I breathe close to her lips.

Tits press into my chest as the bitch squirms, only making my dick harder the more she grinds. I tighten my hold, but there’s not much to hold on to. Her skin is as smooth as water, so much so that she feels like she’s going to slip out of my hands.

But her scent drifts up to my nose, flowers and shit, and I love how these women smell, because it’s always better once you mix it with sweat.

Untying the bandana, I let it fall off my face and gaze down into her sweet expression. The pinch between her eyebrows softens and lifts, going from frightened to…something else.

Pulling a tab out of my pocket, I hold up the white pill between us. “This will help you relax,” I whisper, as the shadows of my guys move in on both sides of the bed.

She darts her eyes to the drug, biting her bottom lip.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she meets my gaze again. “You don’t have to do this.”

I smile just a little, appreciating the gesture.

Leaning in, I whisper, “If he shames you for this, I’ll come back and cut off his hand…”

Not just a finger.

“Okay, baby?” I ask her.

She looks up at me now, the endearment making her lips part. Women like it when you’re possessive.

Sticking the pill on the tip of my tongue, I hold it out for her, and after only a moment’s hesitation, she opens her mouth, swiping her tongue over mine and snatching the tablet from me. As soon as she swallows it, I crash my mouth down on hers, not letting the bitch get away for a second.

“Hell yeah,” Rip coos.

She whimpers, squirming her legs as she presses her hands to my chest, but I wrap my arm around her waist like a belt and hold her body to my cock.

I hear Tyson’s zipper come down on my right, both of my friends ready for their turn already.

“Aw, fuck,” Rip gasps, already stroking himself.

Grabbing Mrs. Coldwell’s G-string, I push her out of my arms, to the bed, and tear the fabric clean from her body.

She tries to scramble up again, but my friends dive in from each side, feasting on her tits. Her cunt glistens, and I wipe my mouth. “Yeah, you Saints got some pretty pussy.”

Coming down in one fell swoop, I suck her clit into my mouth, and her moans fill the whole fucking room as the fight leaves her limbs slowly but surely. Three men eat, nibbling, gnawing, and sucking on her, and I’m almost jealous.

Oh, fuck that. I am jealous. The most mouths I’ve had on me at once are two.

Growling pierces the air behind me, and I turn my eyes just enough to see her husband glaring at us in rage. Red covers his face, his blond comb-over hanging in one eye as he struggles against his restraints.

Flicking my tongue out to tease her, I watch his pants for the nudge inside as his cock continues to grow at the sight of three men taking his wife.

Covering her with my mouth, I sink to the bed, wrapping my arms around her thighs. She squirms, showing a little resistance, but I tug at her clit and swirl my tongue around. Her back arches and her tits bounce as she moans.

Tyson stands up and pulls himself out, stroking it.

I rise up, yanking her back down. “Me first.”

Ripping open my pants, I pull out a condom and tear it open. She groans, breathless and shaking her head, a little half-hearted fight to keep up the pretense.

“Your husband wants you to do this,” I remind her, rolling the rubber on. “You ready?”

Again, she shakes her head, finally tucking her chin into her shoulder.

And then she breathes out a little “yes.”

I push my pants below my ass and crash down, sucking a nipple into my mouth.

Fisting my cock, I fit it at her entrance and thrust, growling as I push it into the tightest pussy I’ve ever had.

She cries as I bottom out, kissing, biting, and sucking her flesh. In the next breath, I pick up the pace, her wet warmth hugging my dick like a fucking fist.

I shudder.

Her soft skin, the curves of her hips and her breasts, the pink mouth, so plump…

Shooting up, I hover over her lips, her breath mixing with mine.

I whisper, “Give me your tongue, baby.”