Carnival

  It seemed that having attention drawn to his organization or getting into a legal case with two members of the Falcons wasn’t on Mr. Big’s to-do list this week.

  Roy was going down for a very long time, and I was free.

  It was worth a few bruises and a jaw that ached every time I so much as sipped a cup of coffee.

  The guys had come through for me, not that I’d ever doubted them, but they’d stood beside me and saved my sorry ass. Again. They knew I’d do the same for them every day of the week.

  Because we were family. We were carnies. And that meant something to us.

  I think the others felt the same shot of adrenaline that I did, because despite two late nights and a fun-packed/fight-packed couple of days, we were all on fire.

  We returned to the carnival and put on one of the best shows of our lives. Our jumps were higher and wilder, the spins faster, the split-second timing even tighter. And although I could hear the roar of the crowd through my helmet, this performance was for us.

  Clannad’s primeval drums filled the stadium, pounding out the sound of battle as we dueled in the air, fighting our way around the racetrack, warriors, gladiators.

  I roared out of that racetrack with my blood on fire.

  Sara was waiting for me. Her thin sundress whipped around her legs in the evening breeze, pulling the material taut over her belly, clinging to her hips and breasts.

  I barely stopped the bike long enough for her cheeks to flush as she nodded at me quickly. I pulled her across my lap, my arms cocooning her while I drove as fast as I dared across the uneven paving of the back lot.

  At the RV, I pulled off my helmet and tossed it onto the saddle then carried her into her bedroom.

  Bo was furious when I ejected him from her room. I loved the little guy, but wild monkey sex was not happening with the monkey watching.

  Her hands groped at my leathers, pulling on zips and straps, frustrated. My dick had been rock hard for too long and I growled as she palmed me roughly.

  I unbuckled my boots as quickly as I could, hearing the thunk, thunk as I kicked them into the corner, stripping quickly, still soaked in sweat.

  I gripped Sara’s hips and she raised her arms above her head, allowing me to lift the sundress over her head, tossing it behind me.

  My eyes widened at the sight of her impossibly full breasts, overflowing a bra that was definitely too small for her.

  “They’ve grown since you last saw them,” she murmured shyly.

  “Damn, you’re hot when you’re pregnant,” I grunted as I pushed the cups down and lifted the heavy flesh, covering each breast with my hands, squeezing the nipples until she was writhing and crying out. I pushed my face between her breasts, hearing her hiss as my beard brushed against her flushed skin.

  She grabbed my biceps, unable to keep her balance, so I lowered her to the bed, my dick leaking over her round stomach.

  I paused, realizing that this wasn’t going to work quite how I’d imagined it, and I’d imagined it a lot.

  I slid down to her thighs, sliding her damp panties down long, tan legs.

  Arousal hot and musky hit my nostrils as I brought my mouth to her clit, and she dug her short nails into my shoulders, begging and crying. It didn’t take long before she was making her mark on my skin, and I fuckin’ loved that.

  My own control was down to almost zero. I wanted her on her hands and knees, but she was so limp and breathless that wasn’t going to work either. Carefully, I rolled her onto her side and moved in close behind her, my dick parting her round ass as I moved into position. She lifted her leg for me, the rough hair of my thighs against her silky skin. I sank into warm, willing, wet pussy, hot and tight, and fuck me, so incredible. For a second, I was terrified that I was going to hurt the baby. Maybe this was a bad idea. My dick wanted to cry at the thought of having to beat a retreat. But then she moaned and squirmed against me, so I figured I was good to go.

  I didn’t know what words were coming out of her mouth, maybe not even words, but when she reached behind and grabbed my butt cheek with one hand, I got the message.

  I’d never fucked a pregnant woman, but I don’t think that was what made it so hot, so sensational; I think it was Sara. Scratch that. I knew it was Sara.

  I reached forward to rub her clit and she nearly launched herself off the mattress, shrieking my name. Damn if that didn’t make me need to come so hard I saw stars. I pumped roughly, my dick growing and then bursting inside her as I emptied everything I had, pleasure and pain drawn on my face. Months of celibacy and too many weeks of wanting her.

  I think I passed out for a second, and we lay locked together, breathless and sweat-soaked as we floated back to earth.

  My dick softened and slipped out of her, and she gave a soft giggle as jizz trickled across our legs.

  With some difficulty, she turned over to face me, resting her damp forehead against my chest.

  I pushed the clinging strands of hair from her face, smiling as her eyes closed and her lips turned upward.

  “I knew it would be epic,” she said softly. “Can we do it again?”

  I gave a quiet laugh.

  “Any time you want, sugar. Any time five minutes from now.”

  “Oops, I think you woke up Peanut. Here, feel.”

  She pressed my hand against her stomach and I felt the little guy moving around, pissed that he was missing nap time.

  “Go back to sleep, Peanut,” I whispered. “Your mama and I have unfinished business.”

  I looked up to see a single tear trickling down Sara’s face and I was instantly worried.

  “No, I’m fine, really,” she sniffed as I wiped the salty tear from her cheek with my thumb and kissed her hands. “It’s just that . . . well, I talk to him, too. I’ve told him all about you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, everything.”

  My heart tripped over itself, just an extra beat, a shiver of something I didn’t understand. I rubbed my chest, then leaned down to kiss her lips. It shifted inside me, a deep, warming pleasure that I was part of this, too. I felt protective, and defensive of anyone who’d try to come between us. The three of us.

  “We should get up and go to the barbecue,” she mumbled, snuggling in closer as our kiss ended.

  “Nope, not moving from here,” I grumbled, pulling her closer so our bodies were slicked together.

  She gave a soft laugh.

  “Are you always . . . like that . . . after a show? I was just wondering . . .”

  Her words petered out, but it felt like there was something else she wasn’t saying, but I decided to take her question at face value.

  “Pretty much, yeah. It’s the adrenaline, the rush. It happens mostly, not always.”

  She was silent for a moment.

  “Did you . . . have you slept with a lot of women?”

  There was no point sugarcoating it.

  “Yeah.”

  She gave a little hiss of shock.

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must know!” she said, her voice sharp and upset.

  “I didn’t keep score, Sara, because they didn’t matter to me. You do.”

  She looked like she was going to reply, but then some total dickwad asshole with a death wish banged on our door.

  “Get your miserable butt out here, Zef,” yelled Tucker. “There’s someone here to see your ugly face. And Sara.”

  “Fuck off!”

  “I mean it, Colton! Now! Don’t make me drag you outta there.”

  “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Who is it?”

  “Just get your ass out here!”

  “You’d better go,” Sara muttered, pulling away from me and wrapping the sheet around her. “It sounds important.”

  “It had better be, or Tucker will be picking his teeth up off the floor.”

  She laughed quietly.

  “I’ll come out when I’m more . . . together.”

  Then I heard Tucker
banging on Kes and Aimee’s door, and wondered what the hell was going on.

  I pulled on my briefs and found a pair of jeans, not bothering with a t-shirt so I could cool down some. Then I jumped out of the RV to see what was so important that we couldn’t be left alone for five minutes.

  Sara

  My head was spinning.

  I’d just been thoroughly and spectacularly screwed—two orgasms and counting, with the promise of more to come, and now Zef had gone and I felt a little sore and a lot confused. He’d admitted that he’d slept with a lot of women, but wouldn’t tell me what that meant, so it could be hundreds. And I know he’d said I was important, but for how long would he be satisfied with just me?

  Had the sex been so good because I was so darned horny all of the time? I hadn’t had the chance to go and buy another vibrator, and I wondered distantly if Mom had found the one I used to keep hidden in my closet. I gave a wry smile. Knowing her, she’d probably redecorated my whole bedroom as a guest room by now.

  Since I’d had the almost-sex with Zef all those weeks ago, I hadn’t been able to keep my mind from thoughts of him. I’d almost given myself carpal tunnel syndrome the way I’d been bringing my clit to life every night before we’d started sharing a bed. After everything that had happened with my parents, I’d been in a weird place. I was still amazed that he was prepared to spend time with me even if we weren’t having sex.

  But now . . . I didn’t have to go on missing out.

  I was sure my rampant hormones played a role, but I was also doubly certain that it was because of Zef.

  Sex with Owen had been pretty unexciting: not much foreplay and a lot of blowjobs when he could get them. That seemed about average from what my girlfriends shared with me. By comparison, which I knew was kind of messed up, his dad was a much more skillful lover and could get me hot and bothered, but then it was all about him, and he only ever liked the missionary position so he could hold my hands down. I thought it was hot at first, but I wondered after if it was because he didn’t want to risk me marking him.

  But Zef . . . oh boy! It was explosive from the second he looked at me with those hot, burning eyes. Game Over. And for a big guy, and I mean b-i-g, he’d been really gentle. When he realized that missionary wasn’t going to work, he’d found a position that was great for me. I’d been afraid that he wouldn’t find me attractive now I was so fat, but he’d stared at my swollen boobs for so long, I’d half wondered if he’d expected them to start talking.

  I kind of loved that I could do that to him. Not that he was the most talkative guy ever, but he’d said the words that mattered: you’re hot when you’re pregnant.

  I was glowing with post-coital bliss and a little bit of pride.

  And I felt happy for the first time in a long while. A very long while. Zef made me happy. And I was going to do everything I could to make him happy, too. Although I wondered how long that would last when a crying baby was part of the equation. I frowned, wondering for the millionth time if I was being a complete idiot. I sighed. Maybe just a little bit of an idiot. Because as I’d discovered, sex with Zef was worth a touch of lunacy.

  He said he didn’t mind about the baby and when he’d talked to Peanut, I’d felt this incredible wave of emotion, but I also knew that what guys said and what they really thought, were two wholly different things. I had firsthand experience of that.

  I tiptoed into the shower, relieved not to bump into anyone who might have heard me. I think I might have yelled a little while we were making love. Just a little.

  Then I pulled on my sundress, trying to smooth out the wrinkles with my hands, but quickly gave up. I brushed on a little powder to take the redness from my face, and some gloss to make me look fresh. I glanced in the tiny mirror that was hung on the closet door.

  Nope, I still looked freshly fucked.

  Oh well.

  Zef

  A brunette that I vaguely recognized was sitting with Zach, Luke, Tera and Tucker, sipping what looked like champagne out of plastic cups.

  She smiled as I scowled down at her, obviously having heard me yelling at Tucker.

  “Hello, Zef,” she grinned, standing to shake my hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt your, um, celebrations, but I have good news. I’m Carrie Christie, KTM Marketing Manager for the US.”

  “Hi,” I muttered gracelessly, shaking her manicured hand. Then seeing Zach glaring at me, added, “Good to meet you.”

  She laughed. “I guess I should have made an appointment.”

  “Yeah.”

  Sara stepped out of the RV and my eyes turned to her automatically. Her cheeks were pink and her lips soft and pouty. She looked freshly fucked.

  Blushing even harder, she walked across and sat next to me, smiling shyly at the marketing woman as she introduced herself.

  Kes and Aimee followed soon after, Kes looking as surly as I felt.

  “Well, now everyone’s here,” she went on, “I have good news. I spoke to Seymour Michaels of No Limits Film Productions this morning, and he’s made an offer for a joint-production promo movie about the Daredevils. He’s putting $300,000 on the table and KTM are prepared to match that. He really likes Sara’s guerrilla filmmaking style.”

  She was laying it on thick. As far as I could tell ‘guerrilla filmmaking’ meant ‘on the cheap’.

  You couldn’t tell by looking at Kes what he was thinking, but I knew that he was more than interested. Sara couldn’t hide her shock, and Tucker shot an amused smile at Tera.

  “That was all very quick,” said Aimee. “We only spoke to Mr. Michaels yesterday.”

  Carrie crossed her legs and gave a sly smile.

  “He wants to nail down a stake in this production. Since Sara’s movie short showed up on your website and ours, there have been other offers.”

  “There have?”

  “Not as good as this one, but yeah.”

  Zach glanced at Tera who winked. Publicity was her territory and if she thought that this was a good idea, we’d probably go for it.

  “Send me the preliminaries and I’ll go over them in the morning,” said Zach. “I’d like to know how this deal is going to be served up, what the likely costs will be and the probable profit margin.” Then he grinned at us. “It’s really good news. Thank you for coming out so late to tell us in person, Miss Christie.”

  She laughed.

  “Please, it’s Carrie. And it wasn’t a hardship! I got to see your amazing show and meet all of the famous Daredevils. Plus, champagne around a picnic table—what’s not to like?”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a parrot,” said Ollo.

  “I can see it’s a freakin’ parrot. What’s it doing here?”

  “Isn’t he beautiful? He’s an African Grey,” Ollo cooed as he stroked the soft, lead-colored plumage on the cranky-looking bird. “His name is Socrates, but he answers to Socks.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Where did you get him?”

  “Yolanda found him in a pet shop downtown. A damn pet shop! She said he looked so miserable that she couldn’t leave him there. She was going to make him part of her act, but it turns out that he has a small social problem and he doesn’t like dogs.”

  “Seriously? Who doesn’t like dogs?”

  The parrot squawked indignantly and a few more feathers molted, fluttering to the ground and leaving a bald patch on his chest.

  “That is one sorry looking creature, old man.”

  “Aw, he don’t mean it, Socks. You’ll be in your prime again soon.”

  “I think he had his prime a few years ago.”

  “Not true! He’s the same age as you,” and Ollo laughed. “Unless you’re saying that you’re past it, kid?”

  “Fuckin’ funny, Ollo,” I grimaced as I rubbed my bad knee. “Seriously, how old is that feather duster?”

  “I wasn’t joking. He’s about 30. The pet shop owner couldn’t be sure. Parrots like this can live to fifty, sometimes even seventy or eighty.” br />
  The parrot side-eyed me then let out a loud squawk.

  “He’s a tosser! He’s a tosser!” in the perfect imitation of a British accent.

  Ollo busted out laughing.

  “I told ya he had issues. Turns out some English rube owned him and taught him to say that. Every time Yolanda tried to put him in the act, he’d end up mouthing off.”

  Ollo stroked the ugly old bird and it ducked its head, pecking his fingers gently, then hopped onto his shoulder. Maybe that was what passed for affection in the bird world.

  “You look like a damn pirate, old man. Just keep that bag of feathers away from me.”

  By the time we ate our meal after the final show, I was the only who hadn’t been won over by Ollo’s new friend. Even Bo seemed to like him, and Ollo was walking around with a monkey on one shoulder and a parrot on the other.

  Sara caught it all on camera and seemed enchanted. We’d accepted Michaels’ deal and Sara had spent the day using her own SLR camera to film up and down the midway, stills and video, but had already been in touch with someone from Michaels’ office who was coming over in the morning to teach her how to use a Steadicam. She was bouncing up and down with excitement.

  “Buddy and Val promised to help me tomorrow,” she said, her smile huge. “They’re going to get set up on the Ghost Train, although I won’t be able to do that one, but I’ll definitely do the Ferris Wheel. They’ll do the filming on the gravity rides and slides.”

  My brain was slow to catch up, so I asked a really dumb question.

  “You don’t want to film those yourself?”

  “Hello!” she said teasingly. “Pregnant woman here! Probably not a good idea to get thrown around when I’m five months pregnant.”

  “Oh, shit, baby! I’m so fuckin’ sorry! I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I forgive you,” she said, climbing into my lap. “There’s lots of other stuff I can do myself. I’m just being careful.”

  She squirmed on my lap getting comfortable, immediately giving me a chubby.

  “Anyway, I was going to ask you something. Aimee has made us both appointments for our monthly checkups with the obstetrician. Kes is driving us but . . . would you come with me?”