Page 8 of The Best Trick

“Oh, Ice, you have done it now,” Thor said, ripping my thong to useless scraps, fully baring my mound to the cool wind whooshing in the window. He cupped it with rough hands.

I gasped.

Odin clambered all the way into the back seat, installing himself on the other side of me from Thor. He pushed down my shirt and bared my breasts. “We are going to make you beg so hard, you’ll forget all about chocolate and curly fries,” he said, pressing something cold and hard to one of my nipples, and then the other.

I gasped. An ice cube!

He tossed it aside and touched them with warm fingers.

“You will forget all about them,” Thor said.

“I can’t imagine how that could ever happen,” I somehow managed. “Can’t…imagine…” I said, arching my pelvis into Thor’s hand. He pressed a finger into my wetness, and I nearly exploded with pleasure.

“Tell us what you really want,” Odin said.

“Maybe it’s a surprise,” I bit out as Thor zeroed in on my hard little nub. “What…” I said, pulsing under my guys’ delicious ministrations. “Please,” I whispered.

“Please what?” Odin said.

“Please let me come,” I whispered.

“You break so easy,” Odin said, doing a just-right twisty thing to my nipples that tweaked the pleasure center of my soul.

“Tell us what you love the most,” Thor commanded, doing a reverse circle thing on my sex that made my mind go blank.

“Your hands on me,” I panted. “I love your hands on me, and your cocks!”

“Be more convincing,” Odin growled, tweaking harder.

I was about to come. Seeming to sense this, Thor halted all festivities between my legs, and not only that, but used his hand to prevent me from squeezing my legs together and finishing myself off. “You are a very bad girl,” he rasped into my ear.

“I know—a terrible girl! What are curly fries again?”

“You think we can’t tell when you’re just saying something because you want to get off?” Odin said. “We can tell, goddess. We won’t let you use us for your sexual pleasure. That’s not the kind of men we are.”

I snorted. That’s exactly the kind of men they were.

Thor started up his little circles, Odin did more things to my nipples, and I begged some more.

So that’s how we passed that next part of our car ride, with me on the verge of coming.

We stopped at the rest stop to change into our disguises, but that did little to dampen my excitement.

By the time we arrived at the Airbnb, I had chipmunk cheeks, awesome corkscrew hair, and an off-the-charts horniness level, plus a bit of dizziness thanks to the route we took, which involved a hillside of hairpin turns laid out like remnants of Silly String from a toddler’s birthday party.

The owner, Sue, came out of the house as we pulled up.

My guys always preferred that nobody see us, even in our disguises, but I always liked when the owner met us—otherwise it meant that we’d gotten into our disguises for no reason. Like getting dressed up and having no place to go. Who wants that?

“Showtime,” Thor grumbled, putting on his beret. He and I got out of the car and introduced ourselves to Sue, a fiftysomething woman with moon boots, lots of bracelets, and a strangely intense gaze.

“Glad you made it up that crazy road in one piece!” she said, shaking our hands. She showed us the code and ushered us into the place while Zeus and Odin stayed behind, making a big deal out of unpacking the car, but probably really scanning for trouble. We were always most vulnerable when we first arrived at a place.

Sue led Thor and me into the living room. “We were really excited to hear that you were art collectors,” she said, waving her hand toward three small prints that hung over the sofa. “Rembrandts. Not the originals, of course. We have one tiny original of his in our home, though.”

“Amazing,” I said.

“How did you acquire it?” Thor asked.

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