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Jake Keys woke up to find a woman’s hand on his cock. A not unexpected occurrence. He sighed and rolled on to his back to receive a kiss from the third occupant of his bed. Her soft lips opened, then she plundered, insinuating her tongue into his mouth to fill it with minty flavor and sensuous invitation. These girls were good. They must have been waiting for him to wake up and the one kissing him had even found time to clean her teeth.
So why did the thought of waking up to sex with two gorgeous and willing women send no thrills through him, no eager response? True, his dick was behaving as it should. It always rose to a challenge, never let him down except when he was too drunk to move. Even then, sometimes a skilled manipulator could get something going. But today he didn’t feel the eagerness he should at the prospect.
When had that left him? He adored sex, the best pastime in the world, apart from playing with the band.
He kept his eyes closed, content to be used, at least for now. The thought of rolling over, pulling the sheets up and going back to sleep appealed to him more than this, but he’d invited the women, so he had to be hospitable. Maybe he’d find some excuse to get rid of them later today and grab some time to himself.
Thinking back, he couldn’t quite understand why he’d invited them on his vacation. He’d planned a few quiet weeks in Santa Barbara in a rented villa, a chance to recharge before going into the studio to work on the final cut of the next Pure Wildfire album, Moonfire. Then the Westfall twins announced they would be in the US for a few weeks, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d invited them.
He couldn’t blame anyone except himself. Paige and Ashley could be insistent, as evinced by that small hand on his cock which wouldn’t stop until he either came or fucked her, from her point of view, preferably the latter. Their sister Corinne warned him when he’d started his off-again on-again relationship with Paige last year that they could be clingy, but he couldn’t remember when invitation had turned into encroachment.
Well, he had to be friendly, at least for today, until he could work out some kind of excuse. Get rid of them without upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that.
“Come on, lover.” The soft female English-accented voice had once turned him on instantly but now he had to work at it. Perhaps he was just tired. Yeah, that had to be it. After a tour that had lasted the best part of a year, wildly successful, but exhausting, he needed a bit of time on his own just to sleep and rest.
So Jake finally opened his eyes. “Hi.” He drew Paige close for a kiss. Well, that answered whose mouth had just replaced the hand on his cock. Ashley. “Oh baby,” he managed, pulling away from Paige just enough to speak. Paige’s sweet face smiled down at him. She pushed her ample tits against his chest and he obediently fondled them, though he wasn’t sure how much she actually enjoyed it now. Last year Paige had gone in for augmentation, and as a result, now it was a lot easier to tell the twins apart. The one with size-F breasts was Paige. Ashley still had her original C cups and he had to admit he preferred those. Pumped up breasts didn’t do it for him. They didn’t sit right on the chest, they didn’t look real. His brother Chris was less discriminating. If Chris were here, Jake could leave the twins with him. Or Paige, anyway. Perhaps that was the answer. Call Chris, who was vacationing in California last he’d heard, and lend him the villa. Then he could hire somewhere else and be on his own for a while.
Paige’s long, artificially extended hair brushed his chest. That felt nice and Ashley’s skilled mouth brought him to full tumescence. Or almost full. The extra inch all shape-shifters had was reserved for extra-special occasions. His normal seven-plus inches was enough for most women. More than enough for some.
He felt his desire rise and, almost subjectively, noted the stages of it. Ashley’s tongue circled his dick, then she went back to some serious sucking. Oh yes, she knew how to give head. Nobody better. Heat rippled up his spine, his balls tightened. “Oh, baby, yeah!”
The phone rang. Fuck it, let it ring. Or rather, give him ten minutes and he’d fuck them. Both of them. There was something to be said for mindless sex, after all. Maybe his ennui was just a part of waking up after a couple of bottles of red wine and a session with two hot women. Nothing else.
Paige surprised him by moving away and picking up the phone before he realized why she’d done it. He stopped yelling. She loved to shock, a trait she couldn’t control at times. It came from a childhood spent firmly under the thumb of their managing Svengali-like father, a story Jake knew more about than they realized, thanks to their sister Corinne, who was now married to Pure Wildfire’s lead guitarist, Aidan Hawthorne.
Paige giggled into the phone before she flushed and abruptly handed the phone over. “Some guy,” she told him and huffed. “A guy with no fucking sense of humor.” Her precise English accent made him smile, especially here in his home country. As did her carefully inserted curse word. The twins swore like sailors when they remembered, but it didn’t come naturally to them. He had to remember to moderate his language sometimes, like in TV interviews.
“Hi, yes,” he said, suddenly invigorated from his morning orgasm. He’d have to reciprocate pretty soon. That wouldn’t be too much of a trial. The girls were pretty and definitely game.
“Mr. Jake Keys?”
Weird. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had used his last name, much less the “mister.”
“Yeah?”
“My name is Chauncey Morris and I’m sheriff of Springwater, Texas. Your wife was Ms. Cheryl Palmer?”
“Yeah, Cheryl’s my wife.” Wait—did he just say “was”? Why not “is”?
The heavy silence that fell at his end told him the girls were listening. Intently. But they knew he was married—he was almost sure he’d told them.
“Is there anything wrong?”
“Mr. Keys, have you seen your wife recently?”
The monotone was beginning to annoy him. Jake raked a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it back off his face. Paige slid her arm around his waist, drawing him closer and rubbing her ample breasts against his upper arm. Her peaked nipples felt good against his skin, he noted absently. “The last time I saw Cheryl was six months ago, though I talked to her yesterday on the phone. We chat online sometimes too, but no, I haven’t seen her face-to-face for a while.” He bit off his words, made too voluble by the man’s use of the past tense. After all, he only had Morris’s word for it that he was a sheriff. Rock stars drew a lot of weird people and the media would use anything to get a story. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Mr. Keys, your wife is dead.”

Lead guitarist Aidan, aka Splinter, and second guitarist Corinne

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Charismatic vocalist and lyricist Ryan

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Bassist and ex Texan sheriff, Jake Keys

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