Rev Me Twice
Authors: Adele Dubois
Crystal is a bad, bad girl in the most delicious ways. She
tries to be good and is tempted to commit to her Navy MP boyfriend, Tomas, but
has no experience with an exclusive relationship or healthy family structure.
She likes her life as a stripping weathergirl and sex-party host, and resists
conforming to the traditional lifestyle Tomas craves. Without her weekly
ménages and wild orgies, can she become the partner Tomas wants?
When Crystal receives death threats, a media frenzy erupts.
Tomas spirits her away in an effort to protect her, but a deadly crash changes
everything. Faced with the choice between self-interest and self-sacrifice,
Crystal must decide if she’ll embrace a new life with Tomas, or walk away.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica
Publication
Rev Me Twice
ISBN 9781419931499
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Rev Me Twice Copyright © 2010 Adele Dubois
Edited by Briana St. James
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication November 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of
Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not
be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written
permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home
Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The
characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Adele Dubois
Dedication
To the enthusiastic readers who encouraged me to write the
sequel to my novel
Rev Me Up
. Thank you for your support.
Acknowledgements
To the wonderful and hardworking publishing staff at Ellora’s
Cave for their continued faith in my work.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark
owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Boy Scouts: Boy Scouts of America
Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Harley-Davidson: Harley-Davidson Motor Company
Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi Inc.
Ken: Mattel, Inc.
When the light turned green, Tomas Alvarez revved his black
and chrome Harley-Davidson CVO with red flame graphics, engaged the clutch and
hit the shifter with the sole of his right leather boot. The front end of the
bike lifted off the asphalt and leaped forward like a bull from a rodeo gate.
His engine roared, rubber smoked beneath his feet and his
laughter rumbled with the exhaust system as he left the pussy in the pimped-up
GTO in his dust. The driver in the restored classic car had been hot-dogging
him for miles and it was time to shake him loose. He chuckled and savored his
tiny victory.
Tomas revved again and then held the grips tight, flexing
his arm and shoulder muscles with the movements. Glare from the late afternoon
sun glinted off his black-as-night shades. As he picked up speed, he relished
the hot wind gusts slicing over his skin. Warm grit flecked his face. The
smells of clean air and fresh tar wrapped around him like his favorite cologne.
Crystal Miller swatted his stomach with one hand while she
tightened her hold around his waist with the other. She screamed over the
engine noise, “Did you
have
to do that? Don’t forget I’m back here, you
moron!” Both hands wrapped tighter around his abs and then fisted his t-shirt
like a woman wringing laundry.
Tomas only laughed and sped up. “He deserved it and I
know
you liked it.” Crystal was as hooked on speed and danger as he was. More so,
despite his officer training. The brush of Crystal’s breasts against his back
when her nipples hardened during acceleration proved his point. When she rested
her cheek on his shoulder, he knew she’d closed her eyes to intensify the
thrill. Her breathing quickened and she flattened her palms on his stomach as
the Harley roared down the highway toward the Washington Monument.
She could yell at him all she wanted, this chick loved to
fly.
His girlfriend Crystal was the kinkiest, wackiest bitch he’d
ever met in his life, but he dug her like no one else, and in a big way. She
was his adrenaline rush, his addiction and the reason he’d learned to let loose
and let go.
Crystal craved rough sex, wild parties and hard riding. He
bought this Harley because she liked his brother Antonio’s bike, and copped a
bit of an attitude when his girl, Lisa, rode with him. Crystal wanted Tomas to
ride a Harley too. Probably so she could wear next to nothing while they
cruised around town and then call herself a biker babe.
What Crystal wanted, he made sure she got.
He slowed down at the next red light and came to a stop. “If
we hadn’t been playing hide the burrito all fucking morning like you wanted,
princess, we wouldn’t have to rush. Do you want me to get you to work by eleven
or not?”
She pinched the indentation of his bellybutton through his
shirt, hard. The action stung, and then shot a pleasant tremor down to his
groin. His balls tightened. Nobody broke his balls and then nursed them like
Crystal. She had a mouth and tongue like a goddess. In bed, at least.
“In one piece, knucklehead. I have a show to do.” The
laughter beneath her words made him smile. She could call him anything she
wanted and it still sounded like an endearment. He knew she didn’t mean
anything by it. The woman was nuts about him. Completely
loco.
She just didn’t know it yet.
* * * * *
The Barbie and Ken look-alike news team swiveled in their
seats at the anchor desk to face Crystal by her weather map and the tall blonde
newscaster introduced her, like she did every evening.
The director spoke softly into Crystal Miller’s miniature
earpiece. “Three, two, one. You’re on.”
Crystal, known to her fans as Crystal Diamond, struck a pose
in front of the weather chart at subscription cable television news station
WCNT and smiled big at the camera. Ten thousand dollars worth of dental
bleaching and porcelain veneers flashed under her favorite
Slut Red
lipstick beneath the bright stage lighting. She lifted her perfectly manicured
fingers to the freshly cut ends of her shoulder-length brunette hair and let
the highlighted tendrils fall in a slow cascade through her fingertips.
“It’s a sultry eighty-eight degrees outside, folks. Hot and
sticky.” She let the words
hot
and
sticky
roll off her tongue
before swiping the pointed tip over her full, collagen-enhanced mouth. “The
five-day forecast predicts an unseasonable heat wave, with temperatures soaring
into the nineties with seventy-five percent humidity. Unusual for spring in the
Baltimore, Washington DC area.”
With the skill of an illusionist, her fingers released the
hidden closure on the thin strap of her silk camisole and let it tumble
forward. The scoop neckline dipped under the weight of the strap, revealing the
swell of her full right breast.
She stared straight into the camera with the most wanton
look she could muster and said, “Oops”, with a tiny, innocent laugh and then
continued her banter. “The Chesapeake Bay temperature is a chilly sixty-five
degrees.” Crystal rubbed her arms as if she’d just taken a dip. “Too cold for this
meteorologist, that’s for sure.”
With a deft flick of her wrist, she released the opposite
strap on her cami. The neckline plunged lower across her chest, exposing her
impressive cleavage almost to the nipples, under her filmy strapless bra. These
puppies were one-hundred-percent natural Double Es and what subscribers paid to
see.
Crystal could almost hear her viewers bated breath inside
the privacy of their homes as they watched her nightly spot as WCNT’s first
stripping weathergirl. Crystal was the featured performer on this wildly
popular adult cable show and the reason for its unparalleled growth in its
trial year. Although the broadcast was limited to the Washington, DC area,
within one month of WCNT’s premiere episode, requests for expansion into other
territories had poured in. Crystal’s face and curvy body had been plastered
across every media outlet in the world, guaranteeing a three-year extension on
her one-year provisional contract.
Crystal made three times the money she had as a stripper at
the
Tongue and Cheek
in Annapolis while completing her Master’s degree
in meteorology, without the downside of late nights, pesky drunks and unwanted
propositions. WCNT was a great gig and one step closer to her dream of snagging
a straight job as lead meteorologist with a major television network.
WCNT was an independent project funded by board members of
one of those large networks that also provided the latest technology in
forecasting. Though stripping remained her primary role on the news team, she
still had to research the weather each day and prepare her predictions.
Rehearsal followed and then she performed live at five p.m. The show was taped
and replayed throughout the night.
Crystal rolled her shoulders forward to deepen the cleft
between her breasts and leaned in to allow the camera a tight shot down her
cami. Sal, the lead cameraman, came in for the closeup and held steady for
eight seconds.
From her peripheral vision, Crystal noted Sal’s short, wide
boner beneath his chinos. She smiled inwardly. No matter how many times a week
they rehearsed and then broadcast her routine, Sal got a hard-on. She wondered
idly if his wife enjoyed the fringe benefits of his job when he got home.
Most of the production crew got noticeable erections when
she issued the nightly weather report. She’d had that effect on men for as long
as she could remember. Even the women responded with cinched nipples and that
telltale sign of arousal—lip licking—when Crystal put on a show.
Crystal considered the groupies who waited for her outside
the studio or at her favorite pub down the block a fringe benefit of her job.
Her potent sex appeal and celebrity status had gained her innumerable admirers.
She also had an endless pool of sexual partners of both genders, with whom she
indulged on a regular basis with her main squeeze, Navy officer Tomas Alvarez.
Crystal had a taste for group sex that had almost become
insatiable. Too bad Tomas didn’t share her penchant for multiple partners. He
came from a tight-knit family with strong core values who had all served in the
military or law enforcement and lived by Boy Scout rules. Tomas wanted
monogamy. Family. Stability.
Concepts as foreign to her as cultures on the opposite side
of the world.
He indulged her fantasies because he loved her and accepted
her as she was. It fascinated her that Tomas could love unconditionally. And
though he didn’t admit it often, he enjoyed his tastes of the wild side. Tomas
loved skirting the edge, though his comfort zone remained fixed in discipline.
He hoped she’d finally satisfy her urges enough to settle down to a more
traditional life. At his core, Tomas was all about tradition. Country. Duty.
Crystal caressed her breasts for the television audience,
squeezed and ran her fingers over the tips of her nipples beneath the cloth. As
if by accident, she nudged her cami lower to expose the top quarter moons of
her areola beneath the edge of her too-tiny lace bra.
She liked that she could seduce Tomas into doing whatever
she wanted, especially when it came to group sex.
That
was exciting.
Tomas was the most handsome, virile man she had ever known and her attraction
to him was the most powerful feeling she’d ever had. Seducing the good boy into
being a
very
bad boy in multiple sexual situations was a potent
aphrodisiac.
He was the sailor she’d lured like a siren at sea.
Crystal told Tomas she’d think about starting a conventional
life with him, though monogamy seemed like a total waste of the sexual
opportunities celebrity offered. Marriage was a huge step and one she hadn’t
considered taking before she landed a job with a major network and found
stardom.
Could she have both? Celebrity and exclusivity? In her
secret heart of hearts, she wondered what it would be like to know the
mysteries of mutual love and commitment. To celebrate wedding anniversaries and
make plans for the future with an invested partner. To have children. Surely
she could be a better mother than the one she’d had.
The temptation to share true love niggled at her, making her
wonder if she wasn’t like other women, after all.
She gave her breasts a final squeeze and licked her top
teeth for the camera.
Like other women?
Nah.
She shook off the distracting fairy tale thoughts while Sal
stilled the lens on her famous Double Es. Blasts of air-conditioning wafted
over the full length of her body, right on cue, tightening her nipples like
plump raisins beneath the sheer lace of her specially made strapless bra and
lightweight cami. Currents from a discreet floor vent shot up her bare legs and
sent icy fingers over the tight skin of her ass beneath her short skirt and
lace thong. Goosebumps peppered her flesh.
In one seamless motion she pulled the breakaway camisole
from her body and tossed it across the floor, off camera. Mentally, she knew
men across the district whistled and waited for her bra to drop next. If she
were still dancing at the
Tongue and Cheek
,they’d be throwing
hundred dollar bills her way to speed up the process.
Sal pulled back for a full-length view of her body by the
colorful weather map where she continued a report that included pollen levels,
barometric pressure and wind velocity. When she spoke the phrase, “gusty high
winds”, she dropped her skirt to the floor and kicked it away with her sky-high
stilettos as if an unexpected air stream had whisked it off stage. The sound
engineer included breezy, whistling effects to match her movements.
She smiled a naughty grin and then turned her back to the
camera, looking over her shoulder at the invisible audience who ogled her
perfectly round ass. The lace thong she wore had been selected for the frame it
made around the dimples at the top of both tight, full halves. With a thrust of
her hips, she jutted her cheeks higher toward the camera and gripped them
between both hands, rubbing and spanking until the skin turned flamingo pink.
The fiery background music rose to accompany her self-inflicted punishment.
Didn’t bad girls deserve to get spanked?
She could practically hear her audience screaming for more.
After she was done, she turned around, pretending to be
breathless from the flagellation of her bottom. The cameraman panned her body
from head to foot. There was no need for her to speak—nobody wanted to hear her
talk at this point anyway. Her fans merely waited for the grand finale they’d
come to expect while the music blared.
When WCNT went 3-D, subscriptions would blast through the
roof.
Just then she noticed Tomas enter the room behind the crew,
carrying two large cups of coffee and a bag of donuts for Harry, the director,
and Marv, the producer. Coffee and a sugar fix were Tomas’ price of admission
for Crystal’s closed-set performances. Crystal loved Tomas’ attentions—on which
that freak Harry capitalized. Harry knew she would give her best show to her
Military Police boyfriend, who arranged his schedule to attend the live evening
broadcasts. On his days off, he’d drive her to work. Otherwise, he’d meet her
here.
She made eye contact with Tomas and reached for the clasp
between her breasts. He watched, his brown-eyed gaze intent, a small smile
playing at the edge of his wide, sexy mouth while he fixated on her. Her
nipples were still sensitive from the nipping he’d given them earlier, which
was likely the reason for his cocky grin.
Stripping for Tomas always felt like old times, when he’d
become her favorite customer at the
Tongue and Cheek
,and then
her boyfriend. Their connection hadn’t worn thin, even while he was away at
sea. That surprised her most of all. She was usually an out of sight, out of
mind kind of girl.