Page 61 of Boneyard HEA

Half his cock is being swallowed half the time.

“Be back soon, sirs.” Legs still a little out of action, I pick my sarong off the floor, decide not to refasten it as…come everywhere, and amble his way. My bikini is mostly still in place? Or not. I pull the top so it covers my nipples. Not that most here would care. My bottoms have vanished.

I’m struck by a thought, backtracking to the orgasm I just had—almost no one cares, apart from whoever that stranger was. Who was that?

I keep myself distracted until I reach near Mr. Walrus, Mr. Zasha, who is actually a very fit man, just stocky as hell with muscles like a train that turned human. He’s lying on his side, naked, absorbed in getting sucked off, with hair on his back to rival a baboon.

I decide to look as I go by, accidentally, when his woman is on the upstroke so I can see the whole length. This search for scars is both ludicrous and essential.

And as I glance at said cock, he looks at me, and our gazes lock. There is a knowing in there, a focus that says more than that he thinks I’m a woman studying his cock.

A chill falls through me, all the way to my bones, and I hurry onward to the restroom.

I’m scared, I realize, as I push through the door with cold hands despite the warm weather and the sun. That man would not hesitate to put an axe in his enemy.

No looking on the return journey. I’ll scoot past him, do a more wayward trip to Loxland and Tomás.

Problem is, when I open the restroom door, he is there, waiting for me, inches away.

21

Juniper

“For a small woman, you cause much trouble, da?”

I try to squeeze past but Zasha plants his arm across the doorway.

“Why are you watching my dick? Looking for a new owner? Checking the merchandise? You’d love being mine.” He hitches up the waistband of his shorts, though the fly is open, so his erection is obvious. Guess his friend didn’t finish him off.

I’d love to knee him in the balls, this man with the chunky, rectangular body, legs like pillars, and abundant hair on those muscles, but I suspect he would backhand me into the wall.

“I’m not looking.” Short, sweet answer. I narrow my eyes, purse my lips then cannot stop my motor mouth from running. “The merchandise is lacking anyway, sweetheart.”

Calling a man who sees himself as macho, sweetheart, it hits the emasculation spot.

For a moment I fear he’s going to get angry, but he instead laughs, wipes his mouth then heaves himself upright and grabs for my shoulder.

Where the fuck are Mr. Loxland or Tomás? I angle backward, having seen the move coming, but I’m not fast enough.

“Hehe. I need a sample of you to…” With my shoulder caught, he grabs my breast and starts to squeeze. “Nice⁠—”

“Sir, you will release this woman. You’re violating the rules of the fraternity.”

It’s Shawn. I see him past Zasha. Yes! My heart does a gleeful leap.

“I am? Tsk. I am bad man?” Zasha keeps his hold a few more seconds before he lets go. He scalds me with a glare full of malice that says he isn’t done yet.

After that last burst of pain, as he releases my breast, I gasp then retreat a step. What does he know? He cannot know much? Only my name and that I was a friend of Riley—assuming this is about her and my crusade for justice.

Scratch justice, I know what I want—his balls and his heart, minced, if he is who I think he is.

The man walks away while Shawn remains near the doorway, watching, then turns and gestures for me to come out. “He is gone, girl.”

“Thanks, Shawn.” I stop beside him. “He was being overbearing.”

“Just being a dick. This fraternity has a lot of those. No worries, as you Aussies say. I was doing my job.”

“Yeah. I’m still very grateful.” Mr. Loxland is coming now, his expression worried. Tomás jogs up behind him.