Page 6 of Their Little Foursome

His nod was far more definite, his eyes going a bit wider.

“Your Mommy loved sucking her thumb when she was a little girl.”

“You did?”

“Absolutely, and guess what?”

“What?”

“Your Mommy loves sucking all her Little boy’s parts too.”

This time when his face flushed she knew it was due to arousal rather than embarrassment. Beverly lifted his hand and slipped her lips around the very thumb he’d suckled, drawing on it as deeply as she could. With it in her mouth, she reached beneath his raised hips to clasp his cock which had instantly hardened to steel. His groan had her nipples pebbling and her pussy flooding with arousal. Releasing his thumb with a pop of her lips, she gave his penis a squeeze. “How about you roll over so Mommy can show you just how wonderful she thinks sucking can be. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes, I’d like that very much, Mommy.”

CHAPTER 3

Blake

Evil.

People who believed hell on earth didn’t exist were the lucky ones. Unfortunately, he could no longer count himself among them.

“You okay?”

Those people who say there is never a stupid question? They are wrong. So very wrong.

Blake turned to look at John Renaldo, his partner.

“Hell no, I’m not okay. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

“Blake!”

He was trapped. Blake fought against the bonds trapping him, bonds that compressed his lungs to the point he could no longer breathe. The very earth was shaking around him as images surged and withdrew in and out of his vision, blurred bypulsing blue and red lights that strobed, stabbing at his mind until he couldn’t think.

“Blake! Wake up!”

The sound he uttered was a strangled groan as the jaws of hell opened, revealing Hades was not a place of scorching heat, but instead a place of freezing cold. His mind fought to pull him away from the horror even as he pushed further into the darkness. Every touch was one of death, the revulsion threatening to become all-consuming as he desperately sought any sign of redemption. He could feel the weight growing heavier, clawing at him, ripping a primal scream from the depths of his soul as Blake swung his arm with all his might.

“Blake!”

This time the scream wasn’t his, but another’s. High-pitched and shrill as a voice repeated his name like a mantra.

“Blake, Blake, Blake, please, baby. Blake, wake up!”

What?

“It’s just a dream, Blake. Only a dream.”

It couldn’t be a dream. He’d seen the demons in the shadows, heard the cries, felt the claws dragging him down…

“Blake, it’s me. It’s Mommy, you’re safe, baby. I’ve got you. Please, please just open your eyes.”

Blake latched onto the voice, allowing it to cut through the miasma. Welcoming the plea, he accepted its warmth as it wrapped around him like a cloak, needing the promise of the words to be true.

Dream.

Safe.

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