King Cobra (Hot Rods) Read Online Free PDF Page B

understand.
    He leaned forward as Phil dropped down to tease Alanso’s beaded nipple and the stainless steel barbell running through it. Eli had imagined doing that no less than a thousand times and could almost guess what the heated metal would feel like on his tongue. Or against the back of his teeth as he tugged lightly on the embedded adornment.
    Links tucked himself into his pants and unclipped a length of chain from one of a dozen pockets.
    Eli tensed, preparing to tear all three of the fuckers limb from limb if they so much as hurt one of the nonexistent hairs on Alanso’s head. Instead of anything sinister, Links let the length fall, heavy, onto Alanso’s biceps then drew it upward until it draped over his wrist. The implication of restraint was all that was required.
    “Stay still, cariño . Let my boys treat you nice.”
    As if the chain weighed a ton, Alanso obeyed, not moving a fraction of an inch. To see the fiery man yield made Eli’s dick drip. Slickness eased the shuttling of his fist over his length. Too much of that and he’d shoot all over the weeds at his feet before they’d even gotten to the juicy shit.
    “Come on,” he whispered.
    Alanso’s hips lifted, begging for something he likely didn’t understand. Links had no trouble diagnosing a case of unrequited desire. “Phil, put your hand on his cock. Squeeze him nice and tight. You can stroke him a little. Don’t you dare get him off yet.”
    “Yes, sir.” The dude seemed to enjoy taking orders as much as he would relish being the recipient of the prescribed treatment. Eli’s cock leaked, the droplet splashing into the soil.
    “And Ronnie, push those legs wide as they’ll go, considering our slut still has his pants around his ankles and those hot fucking motorcycle boots on. I bet you really ride, don’t you?”
    Alanso nodded. His eyes scrunched closed as his new cohorts assaulted him with pleasure. Knees splayed, soles of his feet touching, he gave them plenty of room to operate.
    “That’s it.” Links tweaked Alanso’s other nipple before returning his hand to Al’s head and stroking him lightly enough to belie his gruff commands. “Now, Ronnie, get your face in those balls. Don’t be prissy either. Fucking slather them with your tongue. Soak him. Let your spit run down his crack. Get his hole nice and drenched.”
    Eli thought someone had knocked the wind from him. What if they tried to fuck Alanso? Was he ready for that? Would they hurt him?
    Could Eli stand by and watch them penetrate his best friend?
    Something in him roared. That right should have been his.
    Except he’d wasted the opportunity.
    If he could do it all over…
    Alanso writhed when Ronnie slurped his sac into his mouth and pulled lightly. Phil’s fingers rhythmically squeezed and released Alanso’s cock, teasing the bottom of his fat head.
    From his outpost, Eli could detect the flaring of Alanso’s nostrils. A tiny smear of blood emerged on his lip when he gnawed a section between his teeth. Probably trying his damnedest not to shoot.
    Phil took it upon himself to nuzzle Alanso’s belly. The chiseled abs couldn’t have provided much pillow for the slender man’s cheek. He watched up close and personal as his buddy followed instructions. Ronnie buried his nose beneath Alanso’s heavy cojones . He went to town on the sensitive spot between the delicate orbs and Al’s ass.
    In the moonlight, Eli watched saliva drip toward the shadows between Alanso’s thighs. He imagined the impromptu lube coating his rear entrance.
    “Just do it already,” Alanso barked.
    The desperation in his directive startled Eli. Who could resist that invitation? Apparently, he had. What a fucking idiot. Why had he done that again?
    He swore he couldn’t remember a valid fucking reason.
    Not one.
    But he’d had so many.
    Hadn’t he?
    Shit, this was bad.
    “You’re not ready to be fucked.” Links squashed the flicker of hope in Ronnie’s eyes. He almost seemed to glance