Summary:
Asher recovers in a clinic and insists on returning to The Roadhouse despite lingering injuries, traveling with Rachel and her boys to a treehouse home shaped by Alistair’s abilities. Meanwhile, Remmi wakes refreshed after a night with Beth, who performs as a singer at the Roadhouse bar alongside bard Waylen. Remmi joins James on patrols amid rising tensions from an approaching convoy spotted by shifter guard Zale. Late at night in the treehouse, with Alistair and Brooke occupied nearby, Rachel slips into Asher’s room for a discreet, intense encounter that leaves him satisfied as they prepare for the next leg of their journey.
Here is your Story: I Got a Sneaky Blowjob from Rachel in the Treehouse
Chapter 32
ASHER
“What’s got you in such a good mood this morning?” Rachel asked as she walked into the clinic, where I’d been laid up the last few days.
“Hmmm?” I asked. The rush of good vibes from all night still clung to me. I felt great. Didn’t mind showing it.
Rachel eyed my dopey grin for a second before she laughed. “You raid the nurse’s stash of the good painkillers or something?”
“Nope. Just feeling good this morning,” I said as I stretched my arms.
“Slept well, huh?”
“Oh, the best!” I practically sang it out.
Rachel stared at me. Her mouth scrunched up while she tried to puzzle it out.
“Alright then,” I said. I hopped to my feet and rubbed my palms together.
“What?” Rachel jumped back a step, caught off guard by how fast I moved.
“It’s time to go.” I started stuffing my gear into my backpack.
“But you’re still banged up,” Rachel said.
“The nurse said there’s been no change in two days, good or bad. So I’m as stable as I’m getting. Time to head back.”
“Asher,” Rachel said with a heavy sigh.
“I can’t get fixed up until I get back there, Rachel.” I’d laid it out careful-like: my injuries needed a healer trained by the guardians. I skipped the who and why. Rachel wasn’t sold at first, but Nurse Harlan backed my story. She’d heard of that kind of thing before.
“Rachel.” I cut her off before she could argue more. “I’m going.”
It took her a minute. She finally nodded.
“I’ll tell the others,” Rachel said. She didn’t look thrilled.
REMMI
When I woke, it was late afternoon the next day. I’d crashed through the whole night and most of the day. I sat up slow, figuring I’d feel crappy for sleeping so long. But I didn’t. I felt sharp. Rested. Weirdest part, I felt happy.
“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” Beth said from the rickety table in my cramped bedroom. She shuffled through stacks of sheet music, flipping pages like she was hunting for a specific chord.
“Why’d you let me sleep all day?”
“I didn’t.” Beth set the papers down and turned to me. “James called it. He says you haven’t been sleeping worth a damn lately.”
“I take it I got my lovely Colonel to thank for that?” I asked, trying to kid around with her old rank.
Beth frowned as she got up and came over to the bed. She shook her head while she stuck out her hand. “I’m not a Colonel anymore. And if you’re asking if I put you out, damn right I did.” Beth grinned as she pulled me to my feet. “But no funny business. You were wiped. Once your muscles let go, you conked out.”
“Was…” I started.
“Was last night real, or did you dream it up?” I knew what I hoped for. But I needed it straight. Just to shut up the doubts buzzing in my head.
“Didn’t I say I wouldn’t force myself on anybody?” Beth smiled and tapped the end of my nose. “Boop. Now go wash up. I gotta hit work.”
“Work?” I asked as I headed for the bathroom.
“Gotta earn my keep.” Beth scooped up her sheets. I snuck a peek. Music notation, all over.
“You’re a musician?”
“I was back… in another life. Looks like I am again.”
“Let me guess. Long story?”
“You know it.”
“What do you play?” I asked from the bathroom door.
“Well, no Fender Strat here yet. So I sing. Throw in some dancing too.”
“That’s awesome! All we’ve had for fun around here is that jackass Waylen.”
“Waylen?”
“He’s a bard with a ego the size of Texas. If you’re performing, you’ll run into him. Bet on it.”
“I’m sensing there’s more?”
“Long story, Colonel.” I shot her a grin.
“That’s gonna stick with you, huh?” Beth narrowed her eyes at me.
Part of me figured Beth could handle some ribbing. “Whatever do you mean, Colonel?”
“Another time. Catch you later.”
“Beth?” I stopped her at the door.
“Yeah?” She turned.
“Uh… has it been a while for you? Since you… you know.” I nodded at the bed.
“Why? Was I that lousy?” Beth asked, looking amused.
“Oh, hell no. That’s not what I meant.”
Beth gave a kind smile. “See ya.” She slipped out.
I watched her leave. Wondered if last night was a one-time deal. And if I wanted it to be. Beth had been a hell of a break from all the stress lately. Stress about The Roadhouse. The war. And above all, Asher.
“Where the hell are you, girl?” I muttered, pissed off.
So you’re up, James said later when I tracked him down at the blacksmith shop. Thought Beth was pulling my leg.
Pulling your leg? I asked as I stepped up beside him, watching Larisa hammer some red-hot rebar on the anvil. Sparks flew with each swing, stinging the air with metal tang.
Yeah, yeah, I’m old. James nodded at Larisa. Remind you of anything?
A bunch of stuff. I grinned. Why, you want me to do that to you tonight?
You’re chipper. James grinned back. Have fun, huh?
Don’t get dirty, James. Besides, I figured you’d know all about it since it was Beth.
“Oh?” James blurted it out loud, shocked by what I said.
“Hmmm?” Larisa stopped mid-swing and glanced over her shoulder, sweat beading on her forehead.
“Shit! Don’t sneak up like that!”
“Sorry,” James said.
“Sorry, Larisa,” I added.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything but my heartbeat,” Larisa said. “You need something, or just trying to give me a coronary?”
“Just checking in,” James said. We all knew the drill, James, Cr’eon, and me making rounds so regular you could set a Timex by us.
“Need anything?” I asked.
“To not get interrupted!” Larisa waved her hammer to shoo us from the shop.
“I like her,” James said as we walked off.
“She’s not your type,” I said flat out.
“Oh?”
“You’re not a Daemon.”
“Oh, right! Slipped my mind.”
So what’d Beth say about me? James asked in my head.
It’s not all about you, James. I teased. She said you thought she looked like some girl you messed around with back in your Air Force days.
I was Air Force. And she didn’t look like her. She was her.
Huh? I asked as we kept checking the barricades, boots crunching gravel.
James explained how Beth was a dead ringer for a woman from his Bio Hab. Identical twins from the same mold, except Beth took different turns in life, so her story went sideways. James said Behemoth, the big AI overseer or whatever, builds these Bio Habs in batches. Grabs one world’s template and spits out five at a time.
People, histories, all cookie-cutter. Then lets ’em loose to grow wild. So yeah, there could be five Beths floating around. Make that four. The one on James’s hab died with the rest.
So you’re saying you haven’t banged Beth.
Right. And before you ask, nobody else has either. Though I did kiss her once… okay, twice now.
Oooohhh. I ragged him. I felt his mental scowl.
Beth lost her family right before her hab got wiped, James said. That killed my teasing. She hooked up with someone who didn’t feel the same.
Ouch.
Yeah…
What? I asked, picking up on his pause.
Beth lost her the night she turned vampire.
If you want details, ask her. But don’t. It… wasn’t clean.
Oh. Gotcha. Yeah, she didn’t seem thrilled about the vamp life. I turned to James. You like it? Being a vamp?
A vamp. James chuckled. Yeah, I do. My spot was desperate. This or the grave. He paused. With all the shit going on now, craziness included, yeah, I like it.
We went quiet. Mind-silence hits harder than spoken.
“So anything happening?” I asked aloud.
“You mean while you snoozed all day?” James said, trying to joke.
“Hey, that’s on you, I heard.”
“Nah, Beth’s doing. My suggestion.”
I socked his arm. “Ow.”
The Show and the Watch
I caught part of Beth’s gig that night. Her voice cut through the Roadhouse bar like a knife, raw and strong, even better with Waylen on guitar. Gotta hand it to him, the guy’s got chops. I still slugged him later when he tried hitting on me again. He admitted he still hadn’t nailed my song.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Part from crashing so long before. But some weird edge had me wired. Not just the Roadhouse threat. That’s what landed me on the Roadhouse roof at three a.m., wind off the plains carrying diesel exhaust from distant semis.
“Hey Zale,” I said to the lone guard as I climbed onto the platform.
“Morning, Remmi.” Zale turned from staring west.
Zale and his twin Zoey were both Ocelot shifters. Littermates, not identicals, but every time I heard it I pictured fuzzy kittens. Zale? Built like a fridge, thick fur over slabs of muscle, head looking small on that tank frame. Those orange eyes locked dead serious, though. No ribbing him. Zoey matched him bulk-wise, but her fuse blew quick. One wrong look, claws out. Guardian training hadn’t fixed that much. Zale said at least now she felt guilty after shredding your face.
“Anything up?” I asked through a yawn.
“Maybe.” Zale’s orange eyes pinned me. “You look like you need more shut-eye.”
“Yeah, fat chance. What’s cooking?”
I stepped up beside Zale, facing the dark plain. “See there.” He pointed to a flat stretch of horizon, sagebrush blurring into black.
“Yeah?” I squinted.
“Think they’re coming from that way.”
“How can you tell?”
“Campfire glow from their convoy lights up that ridge.”
I squinted harder, nothing but ink. Laghold’s sodium lamps flickered faint miles off, but Zale’s spot stayed black. No shock. Ocelot eyes beat our helmet visors. That’s why they skipped ’em.
Helmet! I cursed myself and yanked mine on. Even boosted, it took staring to spot the glow. Faint orange smear.
“You’re right.” I tugged it off. Handy gear. Not too bad to wear. But hats bugged me. Reminded me of my old riding helmet from the Kawasaki days. Missed that bike.
“Word from the scouts?”
“Not yet,” Zale said.
“Cool. Holler if you spot more.” I scanned around. “Where’s Zoey?”
“Perimeter check.”
I peered over the walls, no sign. He caught my look. “Outside.”
“Outside the walls?” I blurted.
“Don’t sweat it. Leshy’s got her back.”
“Oh.” Relief hit. Shifters linked tight with that forest spirit. No clue how. Just glad it worked.
“Grab some rest, Remmi.” Zale turned back to the plain. “Shit’s about to get wild.”
ASHER
“You guys call this place anything?” I asked as we topped the last rise and Brooke and Alistair’s spot came into sight.
“Home?” Brooke said flat.
“Yeah, my bad.” We hiked down to the huge fallen oak where the couple holed up. I’d driven our group hard the last two days. Pushed right up to the bone-tired line. Only slowdown was when Nurse Harlan said she’d left her insulin kit back at the clinic and had to double back. Her grandson offered to fetch it, but she waved him off. They’d catch us at The Roadhouse. Left me with Brooke, Alistair, Rachel, and her two boys at the treehouse.
The place had grown since last time. Two new rooms carved out. Both fixed up as bedrooms, with actual box springs and Walmart comforters.
“Happens now and then,” Alistair said. “The tree shifts to fit.”
“How’s it know?” Rachel asked.
“It’s part of him,” Brooke said.
“So… we’re inside you right now?” I said.
Rachel shook her head while her boys started racing around, knocking over a lamp. “Boys…”
“It’s fine,” Brooke cut in. “Anything they bust fixes itself.”
“That’s not it.” Rachel scowled and chased after them.
“I’ll fire up some grub.” Alistair headed to the kitchen nook, leaving Brooke and me in the main room. Chili simmered on the propane stove, cumin thick in the air.
“Thanks, man.” My gut rumbled loud. Hunger had turned into our road trip gag. I scarfed non-stop, jerky, PowerBars, but it yelled empty. Rachel even bugged Harlan to check for parasites.
“How you holding up?” Brooke asked.
“Hmm? Fine.” My head was elsewhere. If I called shots, we wouldn’t stop. Keep rolling.
“We’ll get there,” Brooke said, trying to calm me. Everybody knew my jitters. They handled me gentle. Unsure if it was my nerves or the glowing blue shard strapped to my back. Hadn’t budged since the clinic. Wounds same. Good sign. If they’d tanked on the trail, they’d have hog-tied me back.
I sighed. “I know, Brooke. Just can’t shake this itch that I’m missing something big.”
“You forget shit?”
“Nah. Something’s brewing at The Roadhouse, and I’m not there. Can’t explain it. But I gotta be.”
“Probably just nerves messing with you,” Brooke said.
“Yeah, maybe.” I faked it with a frown.
“This ain’t poison, right?” Rachel hauled Jules in from a back room. Brown goop smeared her palm, the same stuff ringed Jules’s mouth, sticky like peanut butter.
That evening I stared at the knotted oak ceiling in my room. We’d scarfed chili and crashed early. Dawn start tomorrow for the push to The Roadhouse. I burrowed into the surprisingly soft mattress and listened to Rachel wrangling the boys. Took a solid hour. Noises finally quit. Asleep, I figured.
Soon after, Alistair and Brooke started up. Least they waited on the kids. Didn’t envy Rachel explaining the slap of skin and Brooke’s yelps echoing through the bark walls. They wrapped in forty-five, shockingly quick.
“Wow, short fuse tonight, Alistair?” I whispered to the ceiling. On the trail, it ran an hour easy, time for me to jerk off to the soundtrack. They’d skipped last night… kid-friendly. Maybe pent-up. If so, he’d blow in seconds at The Roadhouse.
“Should’ve beat off.” I groaned, slapping a hand over my eyes. Too wound up tonight to join the show. Body screamed for it now, but my brain spun.
Right on cue, Alistair and Brooke kicked off round two.
“Here we go.” I sighed and grabbed my dick. Bust one out, maybe crash.
“How long do those two usually last?” Rachel whispered right in my ear. I jolted.
“Jesus!” I yelped, heart slamming as I shifted and spotted her next to me in the glowstone’s dim yellow light.
“Bless you, child,” Rachel said deep-voiced. “But for real, what’s their deal?” She jerked a thumb at the couple’s room.
“Not used to company.” Brooke’s moans ramped up. “Where’s your bell?” I asked. Pulse still thumped.
“Jules has it. Won’t give it up, says it smells like me.” Rachel nodded at the grunting wall. “Good thing once the boys crash, they stay out.”
“Really? They wake up that night at your trailer?” I asked, recalling the interruption.
“Oh, right. Be back.”
The vixen, Kitsune now, slipped out but popped back quick.
“All clear. But quick, yeah?” Rachel whispered. Her nose nudged my ear. Before I answered, her hot tongue dragged across my neck, tasting salt.
“Okay.” I cut in. She kept licking. “What was with the teeth on my throat last time?” I asked as she yanked up my shirt, tongue hitting my nipples. Her hands clawed at my chest hair.
“What? No kick out of the danger?”
“It’s… not.” Words stuck while her tongue worked.
Rachel shoved her thigh between mine, grinding my hard-on as she went. “Didn’t think I’d really bite, did ya?” She latched onto a nipple, teeth nipping skin.
I shook from it while she rubbed harder. Tugged my jeans down.
“Uh… I.” Couldn’t string it.
She trailed her tongue down my gut, over my cock. I gasped sharp.
Rachel’s tongue dragged lower, hot and slick against my skin. The glowstone hummed faintly in the corner, casting shadows that danced with every thrust from next door. She gripped my hips, nails digging into the tree bark texture of the bed.
“Shh,” she murmured against my shaft, then took me in deep. My hand fisted the blanket. Brooke’s howl peaked again through the wall. I bucked up, chasing the wet pull of Rachel’s mouth. Alistair’s low grunts picked up speed next door, the oak walls vibrating faint. Rachel’s lips sealed tight, suction pulling a groan from my chest.
I threaded fingers into her hair, the scent of her sweat mixing with chili spices still on her breath. She hummed around me, vibrations shooting straight down. My free hand braced the bedframe, rough wood biting my palm. She worked faster, tongue swirling the head before plunging back.
Tension coiled in my thighs. Next door, Brooke let out a sharp cry, Alistair followed with a muffled roar. Rachel didn’t let up, her throat flexing as she swallowed around me. I thrust shallow, hips lifting off the mattress. The glowstone flickered once, like it felt the strain. Rachel’s nails scraped my hipbone, urging.
Heat built low, spilling out in a rush down her throat. She pulled off slow, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Better?” she whispered, eyes glinting in the low light. I nodded, chest heaving, as she curled against my side. The Roadhouse waited tomorrow.
