Page 62 of Down and Dirty

The lout! She would have slapped him away, but she was afraid to take her hands off the bar.

“We could have been having the first ever orgasm falling off Flash Mountain. Betcha we’d set some kind of record.”

If he keeps on licking, I may have one anyhow.

“This place got that nickname, you know, Flash Mountain, because women were flashing their breasts, not just at the waterfall, but—”

“Waterfall? What waterfall?”

Danny turned around then, winked at her, and gave Zachary a signal involving a circle made by a thumb and forefinger. It was no doubt something obscene.

They entered a dark tunnel in the mountain now.

And of course the rogue behind her took advantage. She felt two hands creep around to cup her breasts from underneath, the thumbs strumming the nipples into aching points. “How does that feel, sweetheart?”

She did not speak, but she moaned her answer.

“That good, huh?” He used thumbs and forefingers now to pull at the nipples and roll them till she felt a soft thrum of pleasure between her legs. “Touch yourself between your legs, sweetheart. Come on. Do it. Please.”

She did, and within seconds she was coming apart, her lower body stiff and arched up off the seat as far as the belt would allow her to go.

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Zip-it-he-do-dah, baby!” With the braid back in place, he said something ominous. “Prepare yourself. See that white light at the end of the tunnel?”

“Prepare myself? For what? Oh, you louse, you were trying to distract me when you… when I… aiyeeeeeeeeeee!”

The log shot out the tunnel into the light, then straight down from a huge height, with water spraying them from all sides. Meanwhile that blasted song was still playing.

When the log came to rest, a crowd cheered, whilst waiting for their turn. She was soaked from the top of her head to her toes, as were others in the log, who were laughing as if it was great fun to be tossed off a mountain and nigh drowned.

Once she was on her feet and had swept wet strands of hair off her face, she searched for Zachary. He stood laughing, like all the rest.

But then she saw he was looking somewhere else. As were some of the men. At her chest. She looked down and saw that her nipples were standing out like sharp pebbles against the wet tea-ing shert, due to the cold water and Zachary’s wicked fingers.

“You lecherous, loathsome, perverted, odious son of a troll!” She walked over, swung her arm like a windmill, then punched him, missing her mark on his chin and instead landing on his chest. Surprised, he lost his balance and fell flat on his back. If there were not so many people around, she would have jumped on his too-flat belly and pummeled his too-pretty face. As it was, she had already created a scene, with people all around them laughing.

The laughter died down immediately when they became aware that Sammy was on the ground behind them trying to beat on the boy that had sat behind him in the log.

“Raghead! Sand eater! Stinkin’ Arab!”

“I am not an Arab. I’m… I’m… ” Sammy seemed unable to come up with a description of exactly what he was. He did have an eastern cast to his features, but his eyes were blue and his cheekbones sharp, like his father’s.

Two men who had extraordinary muscles and height, one blond, the other black-haired, rushed into the area, and one immediately held out his arms, barring people from getting closer. One of them was yelling, “Secure the perimeter! Secure the perimeter!”

She thought she heard Danny mutter, “Good ol’ Dad!”

Sammy’s boyling target was twice his size, but Sammy was getting in punches here and there. That was before his father picked him up by the belt, leaving the scamp to flail and kick about, using words that brought a blush to Britta’s face, and she understood but half of them.

Meanwhile, a bald man — presumably the boyling’s father — pulled his son up. Instead of chastising him, his lip curled with disgust on viewing Sammy. The father and son swaggered off. The other boy who had been in the log shot them an embarrassed shrug of apology and went away, too.

The black-haired muscleman followed the trio. The other blended into the crowd directly behind them.

Zachary set Sammy on the ground then and used a white linen he pulled from a pocket in his braies to wipe the dirt off Sammy’s face and the blood off his nose and cut lip. “You okay, tiger?”

Sammy nodded and stifled a sob. The brave little thing did not want to cry in public. She knew the feeling well.

Glancing over at Danny, she saw that he appeared equally touched by the scene.

Zachary made a silent signal to someone in the crowd, presumably the blond muscleman. Then he did just the right thing. He swung his son up into his embrace and forced the bloody face into the crook of his neck. He made soothing sounds, like “Forget about them.”