At a club called the Blue Moon, Johnathan scooted into one of the semicircular booths lining the back wall, and Tara and Jake slid in beside him. She couldn't help thinking of herself as the meat in a very unusual sandwich as their eyes roamed her body, caressing each curve and peak like a familiar lover. Cheeks hot, she looked away.
“Tara.” Jake's voice, rich and smooth as molasses, oozed into her every pore, imbuing her with desire, flooding her pussy with sticky warmth. Their animal nature, the rich, sensual vitality of them, tugged at her body with a strength and allure that was overwhelming -- like a dark, dangerous pool that she nevertheless yearned to jump into, knowing she might drown. “What brings you to New Orleans?”
She shrugged, looking back and forth between them, unable to drink in enough of their dark, shaggy hair, their swoon-inducing eyes. “It's my birthday. Well, it will be in a couple more days. St. Patrick's Day.”
Jake chuckled. “An Irish lass born on St. Patrick's Day? What are the odds?”
Tara laughed, too. “I know. You wouldn't believe how many kids accused me of making that up when I was young. Anyway, I decided to take a week off around my birthday this year. A friend of mine had been to New Orleans a few years ago, and it sounded like such fun that I've wanted to visit ever since. So here I am. Kind of a birthday present to myself.”
Johnathan watched her intently. “No... significant other back home?”
Tara squirmed, unaccountably shy now that it came down to particulars. “Why?”
Johnathan smiled, a big, toothy grin that sent shivers to her groin. “Because if there isn't, we don't have to feel guilty about seducing you.”
Tara swallowed hard. “Is that what you're doing?”
Johnathan flicked a glance toward his brother. Tara turned her head, and sank in the quicksand of Jacob's deep, penetrating gaze. “I don't know, Tara.” His hand closed on her knee, slid up beneath her skirt. Her heart pounded as he pressed his fingers against her panties. “You're so wet.” His fingers teased at the elastic.
“Can we?” Johnathan whispered in her right ear. “Can we fuck you, Tara?”
There were very few patrons in the dark bar on this Tuesday night, and the few that were there paid no attention to the people around them. A blues singer played the piano softly. Her rich, husky voice throbbed with the pain of longing, echoing Tara's need. Moaning, she parted her legs. With a growl, Jacob pushed aside her panties and slipped a finger inside her. Unable to face those piercing eyes any longer, Tara closed hers, laying her head back against the booth's padded plastic.
Johnathan's hand crept between her thighs, one finger joining his brother's inside her. Oblivious to the world, Tara tossed her head, moaning softly, repeatedly, as their fingers dipped and glided among her slick folds. Heat and pleasure blossomed in her groin. Reaching out, she grasped their shoulders as she began to rock her hips.
Responding to her urgency, their fingers wriggled faster and faster, until Tara arched and held her breath as sheer pleasure twisted her up like a child on a swing, then released her in a wild, spinning rush that left her reeling and gasping for breath, hanging on to them for balance.
Tara opened her eyes. “Oh, God.”
Jacob chuckled. “How was it?”
Tara pulled him roughly toward her and kissed him, sliding her tongue over his sharp, gleaming teeth. Johnathan's breath warmed her neck. Growling softly, he nipped her, then ran his tongue tantalizingly across the tender flesh.
Tara tore herself away from Jacob's lips to gasp, “More.”