Page 20 of Tinsel & Chrome

As the kiss continues one of Savannah’s hands trails down my chest to crotch. She grabs my bulge and gives it a squeeze. I moan into the kiss. She massages my rock hard cock through my pants. Fuck! That’s hot.

Savannah breaks the kiss and slides down onto her knees. She looks up at me, giving me a wink, before reaching for thebutton of my jeans. Seconds later, she has my jeans undone and my cock out. She gives my shaft a few strokes before swirling her tongue around the head of my cock like a lollipop. I groan and grab the back of her head. Her lips are like velvet on the hot head of my cock. I groan as she sucks on the head before sliding my length down her throat.

Oh fuck!My eyes roll back in my head as she deepthroats me. One hand on my thigh to steady herself in those impossibly high heels, and the other hand massages my balls. Fuck this girl has a mouth like a damn Hoover.

“Damn, Sav. You’re a fucking Goddess. Suck my dick like you mean it.”

And she does. She has my eyes rolling back in my head again. My hands are in her hair, holding the back of her head as I fuck her mouth. Her moans mingle with my own. But we’re not the only ones. I glance around the room. Forge has Roxy bent over the pool table. He’s balls deep in her ass, pounding so hard you can hear the slaps. Big John is fucking her throat. She’s moaning and bucking her hips like a wildcat.

Fuck yeah. I like a good show and my brothers don’t care who’s watching when they’re fucking a sweet butt.

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Treasure Hunt

Wynn

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Daisy kicks me in the ribs right around sunrise. Not hard. Just enough to wake me up and remind me she wins even in her sleep. I sit up slowly, rubbing my side and glaring at her. She’s snoring again already, mouth wide open and drooling like she didn’t just throw a knee into my side. Typical. Forge’s living room is a battlefield. Blankets everywhere, tangled limbs, candy canes stuck to the couch, and Bayou hanging halfway off the armrest with one sock missing and a glittery bow stuck in her hair.

I look around at the chaos and whisper, “Let’s go find the Secret Santa Box.”

That gets Daisy’s eyes open real fast.

Logan groans from the floor. “It’s just junk.”

“Still ours,” I say, already pulling on my boots.

Bayou flips over and lands on her feet like a cat. “I call shovel.”

Ten minutes later, we’re outside behind Forge’s garage. It’s cold and damp, but that doesn’t stop us. We’ve got one shovel, two spoons, and no idea what we’re doing, but we’re doing it anyway.

Emma is on lookout. She holds her sticker-covered walkie-talkie with both hands and nods like she’s on a secret mission.

“If you see anyone,” I tell her, “screamgator.”

“Gator,” she repeats seriously. She’s five, but she gets it.

Daisy points toward the crooked metal grill near the firepit. “Grizzly said it was under there once when he was drunk.”

That’s good enough for us. Bayou and Jesse start digging while Wade directs like he’s the boss of something. Logan rolls his eyes and uses one of the spoons.

Nobody complains.

We hit metal, and everything goes quiet.

Walker clears the rest of the dirt off the top with his hands. “It’s here.”

We all crowd around while Jesse pops the latch. The lid creaks like in the movies.

Inside is:

A tiny MC patch that says “Property of No One”

A broken ring

A bottle of half-used hot sauce

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