Think of it: Prohibition. The Charleston. Hard times. Jazz. Foreclosures. Breakaways and cutting loose. Twilight Amery sets her sights on Harlem, where a girl with a voice--even a white man's bastard from Alabama--can be somebody. Hopping a freight train, she joins up with the beautiful, bitter Mr. Stone and the compellingly magnetic Hector, two Harlem men trying to get home however they can. Faced with club-wielding Pinkerton agents, an inconvenient dead body, and a shortage of money, Twilight and Stone forge an alliance while pursuing their individual mating dances with Hector. Then an old enemy of Stone's intercepts them and issues a challenge that Twilight makes the mistake of accepting.
Hector woke her deliciously, lipping and licking until she came hard in his arms. Then, while she was all weak and floppy, drunk on his loving, he slowly eased that oversize cock into her and made her drunker still. Cock-drunk.
“Inhale deeply, my lovely.”
She pulled in, expanding and being filled. As she exhaled, he worked side to side, snuggling in more comfortably. When she couldn't take being any fuller he seemed to know it. He withdrew, leaving her aching and empty. She moaned.
He beamed. “Let us warm up slowly, yes? “ And he set a long rolling motion like a freight engine warming up to pull a long hard load in the dawn.
And he was the size of a freight train. And it surely was dawn.
For the pure fun of it, she crowed. Then laughed into his astonished face.
His mouth sagged, and his eyes rolled up. “You laugh, my lovely, all the way through.”
She wrapped her arms and legs all around him. “I can feel you too.”
“Imagine that,” Stone said, but his tone wasn't sour this time. That might be a smile on his bruised and lumped-up face.
She smiled back, as generous as any drunk. “You can kiss him. It's all right.”
Stone blinked, staring at her.
“Kiss me, Daniel.”
Daniel Stone kissed him. Fiercely, with tongue, and she wondered how he could help but taste her in Hector's mouth.
For a moment Hector didn't move inside her. She felt slighted, or as slighted as someone could be when stuffed so full. Which was pure foolishness, when the kiss was her idea. She curled upward, just a little bit of a hint, and he resumed the long, slow rolling motion.
Daniel lay beside her, his cheek against her temple.
Hector watched her, though, his eyes heavy lidded with concentration, like a man working harder than a man was meant to work. He murmured foreign words, his voice bone-deep, something she could have heard if she were deaf.
“Yes,” Stone whispered, his one hand gripping Hector's upper arm, joining itself to the muscle that bulged there, and his other clasping his own swollen cock.
And that made three of them in it. But a fire can heat up any number of people, so long as they don't shade each other out. For right now, Stone didn't shade her out. He rocked, as Hector rocked, and as the tempo sped up the bed rocked too, like it was getting as much out of this as any of them.
She laughed again. Couldn't help it.
Hector reared up, his cock shoving painfully deep, and crowed like a rooster the size of a mule. Hot jizz spurted inside her.
A lot of jizz.
Mercy, it's a good thing I'm not one of these real fertile girls.
Hector lay limp atop her, breathing hard and laughing gently, so heavy she couldn't breathe at all.
“Hector, you're suffocating her.” Stone shoved at him. “Move.”
Instead Hector threw an arm about him and rolled to lay most of his weight on Stone's chest, while still facing, and holding, Twi.
Stone laughed in a choked way and held up a hand spattered with rich, sour jizz.
Hector grabbed it and sucked the fingers clean, then licked and sucked the palm a lot more than cleaning would take. Stone finally pulled the hand away and kissed him again, as if to get his jizz back.
Twi rested her head on Stone's shoulder, feeling lazy as a cat in the sun. The smell of jizz was tolerable, but Hector and Stone both acted like they craved the powerfully nasty taste.
Hector's cock firmed up inside her, not that it had gone much toward soft.
She hitched up on one elbow. “Whoa, horse! Rooster, I mean! You already got me sore.”
They laughed, their foreheads together, their voices melding in a chorus that was all male and all satisfied. After a moment Daniel Stone turned his head to her and whispered into her hair, “Thank you.”