Color My Heart: A Red Hot Summer story. (6 page)

Billy lowered himself onto the bed beside her. “How good is he, Hannah?”

Hannah’s hips bucked against Lance’s face, his sweet torture almost too much to bear. She spoke through panting breaths, her head thrashing as his tongue penetrated.

“Good…so good…Lance…oh God, I want you. I want your big fat cock in my mouth.”

Billy took her face and his hands trembled, his breathing ragged. “Where do you want his dick, Hannah? In your pussy, up your ass, where?”

Hannah couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t stand the pleasure, tension, building inside her.

Hot, fiery, overwhelming. Lance’s tongue worked her nub with quick, merciless flicks while he stabbed her cunt with his finger.

And Billy…oh God, Billy.

Her face rolled side to side as she gasped for air, her nails raking the sheets, gripping, pulling. “I-I want him in my mouth and I want you up my ass, Billy…
please
.”

She whimpered when Lance lifted his head. Her pussy mourned the loss of him, weeping for more sucking, more fucking, more. The tall, blond creature’s voice rasped like gravel as he spoke. “All night I’ve watched your mouth and pictured me pushing my dick into it.”

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Hannah whimpered when he rolled her onto her stomach. Billy captured her by the waist and hauled her up to her hands and knees.

The mattress shifted under Lance’s weight as he knelt close to her face, his cock in his hand. “Suck it, little one, suck that dick, nice and long.”

For some ungodly reason, as if for permission, acceptance, or just a need to see his reaction, Hannah’s eyes whipped sideways to find Billy’s wild, tortured gaze staring back at her. “You wanted this.” It seemed as though every tight word he spoke was kicked out of him. “You wanted to drive me crazy—now you have. So suck him.”

She trembled—breathless, eager, a little desperate—and parted her lips wide open, accepting Lance’s cock as he held the base and shoved it into her mouth. She moaned as the long column filled, the tip meeting with her throat. Her clit burned with moist heat, her pussy soaked with juices.

Billy moved to the foot of the bed, one hand burrowing between her legs. His fingers pried through her curls and he inserted one, then two fingers inside her. “You’ve never been this wet,” he said in a heady whisper.

His other hand started to tease the entrance of her ass with his thumb. He circled the ring of muscle, teased, caressed, pressed in. “So tight here. Open up, Hannah, my dick goes right here, right in this tight little ass…just like this.” His thumb bit into her ass and tore through her entrance, penetrating deep.

Hannah’s body jerked, near bursting from want, sensations, from the biting feel of two big, aroused males. Lance’s cock jabbed into her mouth and splattered her tongue with the emerging drops of semen that dribbled down the tip.

Lance moaned as if in a daze, the mixture of booze and lust slurring each word he spoke, making his moves slow. “She your girl, Billy?”

Billy kept toying with her pussy, his thumb circling inside her ass, opening her.

“Shut up, Lance.”

“Shut up?” Lance’s chuckle vibrated in his cock, in Hannah’s mouth. “Does this bother you, Billy, her sucking my cock?”

Billy’s answer was silence.

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“Would it bother you if I came all over her face, spread my come all over her chin and lips?”

Hannah could feel Billy’s jealousy, the tension in him as his hands stopped caressing and paused over her heated entrances, then left her completely. He remained quiet, breathing so harshly she could almost feel his breath on her back, the electric charge radiating from his body.

Making a low, male noise of pleasure, Lance pulled out his cock and slapped it repeatedly to her lips. “Like that, do you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” She opened her mouth, wanting to take in his cock, the whole length of it in her mouth, but he kept slapping her parted lips with it fast. And all she could think was,
Touch me, Billy, touch me more, don’t leave me, don’t stop…

Lance halted all of a sudden, his penis glistening as it hovered close to her damp lips.

She cocked her head and met his hazy green eyes. “Your boyfriend looks like killing someone,” he said, his chest heaving.

Hannah shook her head. “He’s…not…my—”

She yelped as Billy’s cock parted her ass and pushed into her.

It was smoothed with lube and damp, advancing through the tight channel as one of his hands flattened on the small of her back and pressed her down, pinning her there, for his invasion.

Hannah mewled, torn by a shattering sensation of stretching more than she could bear.

“Take it in, Hannah,” Billy’s hot whisper reached her. “There you go, nice and slow.”

His cock felt wider than ever. Her ass clamped hungrily around it, adjusting to his size while squeezing. Hannah gasped for air and gyrated her hips a little, suddenly wanting more, wanting him deeper, to move faster, for him to fuck her ass harder.

Before she could even ask for it, he did. He pulled back and rammed back in. The air wheezed out of her, the sound silenced by a bulky pole of muscle poking into her mouth.

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“Suck me, pretty,” Lance cooed. Hannah’s eyes drifted shut. Silent moans gathered in her throat as she followed the lead of Lance’s hands on her hair and bobbed her head up and down his cock.

Billy growled and moved inside her. Slowly at first, and then he started to pound.

Her nails sank into the mattress and her breasts jerked to the jarring, rampant thrusts behind her. Her clit felt so sensitive the stroke of air caressed, aroused, teased the little nub into tingles of pleasure that ran through every nerve, atom, inch of her.

Billy’s hand traveled from the small of her back up to her hair.

He grabbed a fistful and pulled her head back so Lance could pound her mouth more freely. His other hand curled around her hips and sought her hot spot until his fingers were stroking her pussy, slickly gliding in and out. The mattress screeched, quicker as Billy’s thrusts accelerated, his fingers fucking her fast.

He made low grunting noises, having lost all semblance of control as he drilled her, fucked her pussy with his fingers.

Hannah’s hips moved against his hand and rocked back to his cock, her mouth working eagerly on Lance. Sensations raced across her and left her gasping, burning with carnal need that felt agonizing. Lightning surged inside her, hot, blinding, tearing through her organs. All while Billy fucked her. All while Lance fucked her mouth. “Oh, oh,
oh
!”

She exploded in spasms and her mouth bit reflexively on Lance, tearing a growl from him and a shot of come as he came with her. Billy part grunted, part groaned out her name as he smashed into her rear and began to shudder.

Several wild, racking convulsions later, the three of them fell on the bed. The bedroom echoed the sounds of their haggard breaths.

Billy drew Hannah to him and curled his body against the back of hers, spooning her.

She felt her hair stir as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Still here, Hannah. I’m still here.”

He murmured that so softly she wondered if he’d even intended her to hear.

Hannah’s insides grew tight as she closed her eyes and fought the beginnings of tears.

A silence settled among them, disturbed moments later by the sound of faint snoring.

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Uncoiling herself from the arms and legs tightly wound around her, Hannah slipped into a robe, not glancing back at the sleeping men as she tightened the sash around her waist and went out into the living room.

A new blank canvas stared back at her from the easel and she stared at it for a long moment, her heart crammed inside her.

This was no summer fling.

She was in love with Billy Hendricks. Completely. Irrefutably. In love with Billy.

Lifting a single brush in hand, Hannah went on to paint the catastrophe.

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Chapter Four

I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.

Vincent Van Gogh

Hannah had dreamed of being in love, being loved, of having a wonderful relationship with someone. Of knowing what her partner liked and being known completely in return down to the tiniest, most insignificant details—like her liking strawberries and limes but not lemons, and her favorite toast was wheat.

She might have had it, might still have it. If she’d stop being a coward. She shouldn’t judge Billy by someone else’s sins, much less Brad Kingman’s. Billy wasn’t just different—he was unique. She’d never met a man more deserving of her affections. In fact maybe she didn’t deserve his.

She stared at her masterpiece. Morning sunlight seeped in panels of light through the shutters on her living room window, lightly dancing over her work like museum lights.

She’d used every tube, every color at her disposal, and even ran out of red. Now contemplating her soulful rendering, she realized this was exactly what she felt—what Billy made her feel—and yet her reluctance to admit it kept her from truly embracing it.

She’d turned her life into one of the portraits she was paid to do.

Hannah shook her head, saddened by the thought. A portrait wasn’t what she dreamed of, or what she’d wanted from her life. She’d wanted a wild, unpredictable, fiery abstract. Filled with passion, fury, lust, laughter, tears even.

Playing on the safe side left her with nothing. Her breath left her in a rush when she heard a loud thump on the bedroom floor, followed by a grumbled, “Fuck.”

Soon Lance appeared out in the living room, clutching his clothes to his chest and looking disoriented. He paused when he saw her and opened his mouth long before anything actually came out. “H-Hannah—right?” He seemed unsure of her name and unsteady on his feet. Warily, she nodded.

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Lance shook his head in confusion. “Did something happen here?”

Billy rushed into the living room, buttoning his pants and still without a shirt, and his gaze sharpened when he spotted her. “You all right, Hannah?” he asked, standing a few feet away from Lance.

Oh, Lord, now what?

Hannah nodded, gone speechless.

“What in the hell was I doing in bed with Billy?” Lance demanded, and flung his clothes at the floor, glaring at her first, then at Billy.

Billy blinked, then roared with laughter. “Buddy, believe me,” he said, slapping his back. “I’m not interested. But thanks.”

Lance didn’t look appeased with his eyebrows slanting above his eyes. “Would one of you please tell me what in the devil’s name happened here?”

“You mean you don’t remember?” Hannah asked, trying to recall how many cups of beer she’d watched him drink last night. The fact that she’d lost count seemed proof that whatever the number—it had been a lot.

Before Lance answered, Billy jumped in, “If it had been memorable, trust me, a guy like you would remember. Now here, let me get your clothes for you. Thatta boy. And take some aspirins, got it?”

Lance accepted the pile of clothes Billy deposited in his arms, then lifted his gaze to stare at Hannah. “I fucked you, didn’t I?”

Hannah wrung her hands together and inhaled a deep breath before managing to nod.

Lance didn’t do much as he digested the news. He heard it and didn’t give any reaction away. Until a sleek blond eyebrow rose. “Well, did I pass?”

This was, by far, the weirdest morning of her life. Feeling as though her tongue had frozen in her mouth, Hannah nodded again.

Lance smiled then, a crooked smile that showed a hint of a dimple on one cheek. “I’d hate to under-perform in front of such a pretty lady.”

Hannah would not look at Billy. She felt flushed enough as it was. And she could
feel
his gaze on her. Hot. Bothered. “You didn’t. It was…interesting.”

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“Great, maybe we’ll have a repeat,” Lance said, back to oozing charm. “Mind if I use the bathroom to get dressed before I leave?”

“No, go right ahead.” Her cheeks were really on fire now. Neither Billy nor Hannah said a word when Lance disappeared, and Hannah did her best to avoid Billy’s gaze.

She wanted to tell him a thousand things and yet she feared none of them made sense.
Billy, I hope I didn’t drive you away, I have no idea what I was thinking and I’ve
fallen for you hard…

Billy already held the door open for Lance by the time he emerged, all dressed, coolly raking a hand through his hair. “You know, you’re absolutely right, I do need an aspirin—happen to have any handy here, Hannah?”

Hannah could sense Billy’s growing frustration, his desire to be left alone with her, but she wasn’t at all sure she was ready to face him. What could she say, where would she even start?

She quickly fetched an aspirin from one of the kitchen drawers, where she kept a medicine kit handy, and handed it to Lance with a glass of water.

“Thanks, beautiful.” He kissed her smack on the lips, leaving her winded as he returned the half-empty glass and strode for the door. Now it was Lance who slapped Billy’s back. “You look peaked, Billy. I suggest you take some of those aspirins too. See ya later, boy.”

When Billy slammed the door shut behind him, she heard his softly muttered “
son of
a bitch
” and watched him shake his head in annoyance.

She didn’t have the strength or courage to look him in the eye as he started forward, so she went to the window and peeked out at the streets through the blinds. Her heart pounded like a hammer inside her, her nerves alert to his every move. He was coming closer…closer…but then, he didn’t reach her.

A few feet to her left, Billy paused before the easel and stared at her rendering for the longest of minutes. Hannah grew faint. Suddenly she
needed
him to like it, needed his approval, a hint of him understanding it. And she found herself holding her breath as he regarded it.