Monkey Wrench-Drunk Monkeys 3
by Tymber Dalton
When you absolutely, positively have a world to save, you need to call in…the Drunk Monkeys.
When you have evil to overthrow, you need to call in…the Drunk Monkeys.
Stacia Rooney is worried her older brother is being brainwashed for a suicide mission by the Church of the Rising Sunset. When she has a run-in with the Drunk Monkeys, they unfortunately agree with her assessment.
Quack and Lima think it might already be too late to help Stacia’s brother escape whatever evil project Reverend Silo has cooked up, but they need her help to get more information. They suspect it’s part of a larger plan to spread the deadly Kite virus across the United States and speed up the apocalypse.
Whatever’s going on, Quack and Lima know two things for certain. One, Stacia belongs with them. And two, they are going to throw an explosive monkey wrench into Reverend Silo’s plans. The question is, will the world come crumbling down around them when two of them are exposed to Kite?
When you need a job done right, you need to call in the Drunk Monkeys…
The A-Team meets Mad Max meets The Walking Dead (without zombies). The Drunk Monkeys series is a MFM post-apocalyptic, near-future series (non-paranormal) featuring the men of the elite special ops military unit dubbed the Drunk Monkeys. These twenty men must work to locate and bring in the scientists who can stop the Kite virus from ravaging the world.
Unfortunately, there are those who want to control a Kite vaccine, and who will stop at nothing to try to ensure the Drunk Monkeys fail. Including a batcrap crazy preacher with apocalyptic delusions of becoming President of the United States.
There are ten books in the series, all of them MFM romantic pairings and HEA storylines.
Tymber Dalton is the wild-child alter-ego of author Lesli Richardson. She lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC award winner is also the bestselling author of over one hundred books, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.
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Stacia Rooney was sick and tired of Marco’s bullshit. She yanked her hardhat off and let it fall to the floor as she stalked down the grated walkway. Despite the asshole having a good six inches and at least eighty pounds on her, she got in Marco’s face when he turned at the sound of her shouting his name.
“I asked you, what the fark’s your problem, Marco?”
He didn’t immediately reply. It seemed her direct approach had caught him off-guard so she kept it up, forcing him to take a step backward as she screamed like a crazy person and shook the large, heavy monkey wrench she carried in his face. A month of toting the twenty-five-pound pipe wrench around had not only toned her arms, but also given her lean muscles she’d never had before. Now, carrying the wrench felt like carrying a popsicle stick had before she started working the swing shift at the brewery.
“I am sick and tired of your innuendos,” she screamed, adrenaline, anger, and a tiny bit of fear all amping her volume. “Of you slapping or pinching my ass when you walk past me. Of you ‘accidentally’ walking in on me when I’ve got the bathroom door closed, you fucking monkey. You knock it the fark off or you will be going to see a doctor about getting this goddamned wrench surgically removed from your asshole!”
She’d started to swing the wrench at him, but Billy, the lead shift supervisor, had stepped up behind her and grabbed her, pulling her back.
“Come on, Stace,” he muttered in her ear. “He’s not worth it.”
Marco leered at her and grabbed his crotch through his work coveralls. “Geez, you want a piece of me, honey, all you gotta do is ask.”
She felt Billy freeze. Then, his restraining grip disappeared. “On second thought,” Billy said, “go ahead and clock the fucker. He deserves it.”
Despite his height and weight advantage, Marco was also thirty years older than her, and a pack-a-day smoker. When she rushed at him, he wasn’t expecting it and tripped on the grate flooring as he tried to scramble back and away from her.
She swung the three-foot-long pipe wrench like a golf club up between his legs, nailing him squarely in the nuts. Around her, she heard a loud chorus of sympathetic “oohs” from her male coworkers, and cheers from the few female ones, even over the sound of the production line running up on the bottling floor just above them.
Marco let out a coughing roar of pain and doubled-up on the walkway, clutching his hands to his crotch. She planted the business end of the wrench on the metal grating with a loud clang, right next to his head. Using the wrench as a crutch, she leaned in.
“You’re done, asshole,” she shouted. “Hear me? Next time, I’ll catch you alone and cut ’em off. You fuck with me, you are fucking with a special kind of crazy that they don’t even write about in textbooks. You understand me?”
She slammed the wrench down again, the sound ringing through the area and making Marco flinch. “You hear me?” she screamed in his face, spittle flying and hitting him in the forehead.
He finally nodded.
She stood and, snatching up her wrench, had turned to head back toward Billy. But when passing Marco, she took one more swing at the fucker’s tailbone for good measure, drawing another howl of pain out of him, and more cheers from the onlookers. Reaching down for her hardhat, she settled it on her head before turning to Billy.
“Am I good, boss?”
He nodded. “Yep.” He pointed to two of his guys. “Get his farking locker cleaned out and drop his ass out the front gate with all his shit. Confiscate his badge and bring it to me personally. I’ll tell HR to send someone out there to meet you with his final paycheck. He doesn’t get another chance. He’s done.”
The men grabbed the still-howling man under his arms and dragged him away.
Then Billy turned to her and dropped his voice. “You get a pass because I saw what he did to you,” he muttered, too low for anyone else to hear, “and because I needed an example made out of him once and for all. Don’t make me regret I looked the other way this time for you. I know your family needs the money.”
She nodded, her heart racing. He turned and spoke to the rest of the crew. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I expect any jerk to be handled who lays a finger on any of their coworkers. The days of tolerating that kind of bullshit are over, you understand me? I can go out there and find fifteen people before I walk a damn block who’ll be glad to put their asses in this brewery at a fraction of the pay you all are earning right now. Tenure doesn’t mean shit to me if you waste company time harassing your fellow employees. Got it?”
“Good. Get back to work. Show’s over.”
Quack knelt in front of her. At first she thought maybe he was going to go right for her boobs, or start taking off her jeans, but he pressed his lips to her belly, just above her navel, and slowly slid his hands around her waist until they were splayed across her lower back. It wasn’t just a kiss. He feathered his lips across her flesh, gently, like a light breeze across a field of grass, barely there yet still making things flutter all over the place.
She stroked his head, his shoulders, closing her eyes and tipping her head back so it rested against Lima’s shoulder.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. “Thank you.”
She turned her face toward him. “Um, you’re welcome, but for what?”
He nuzzled her nose with his. “For letting us in. I can tell that’s not something you do a lot of.”
“Boy is that an understatement.”
He kissed her, lightly, gently, caressing her cheek with his fingers.
“Relax,” Quack whispered against her stomach. “Just relax and breathe and and let go for a little bit. We’ve got you.”
She took a deep breath and let it out again. In her life she’d always been an excellent judge of people. Mostly from her innate wariness, her watchful ways. Studying people. Analyzing behavior.
It had saved her ass countless times on the way to or from school, and from work, when she didn’t have Marvin to protect her.
Which was most of the time.
She’d learned to run when she needed to. To fight when she had to.
And a valuable lesson from a friend in high school who had four older brothers and taught her if you can’t beat them, out-crazy them, because a lot of assholes were ninety-five percent bullshit or bully or coward. Get loud, act batshit, and usually the person not wanting attention drawn to their actions would turn and run. Or they’d think you were crazy enough you were too much trouble to fuck with.
That had worked.
The way it had worked with Marco.
Although the twenty-five-pound wrench had helped in that department. She couldn’t deny how satisfying it felt, in retrospect, to slam that wrench down on the grating next to his head, wishing it’d been his head, not just his balls, that she’d smashed.
Of course all those thoughts were counterproductive to what the men were attempting to get her to do.
“We can stand here all day, baby,” Lima said, “until we feel you relax. And we will. We’re not interested in sharing your brain with any thoughts other than you being right here, right now, with us. As long as it takes.”
“I’ve only been with one other guy before,” she admitted before she chickened out.
“Really?” Lima asked, his thumb now gently stroking her chin.
He smiled. He looked pleased about that. “Good. That means we can have even more fun.” He kissed her again, this time taking control.
Something inside her broke free, wanting this more than she’d wanted anything before. She reached up and hooked her arm around his neck, holding on, kissing him back.
When he lifted his lips from hers, he wore that sensual smile again. “There’s our good girl. Don’t worry, we won’t break. Get as rough with us as you want, and you tell us if you want something rougher or softer or faster or slower.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
The smile crinkled the outer corners of his eyes. He slipped his fingers around the back of her head, gently holding her in place as he kissed her again.
Quack was still kissing his way around and back and forth and up and down her stomach. With her other hand, she slid it from his shoulder to the top of his head and pushed down, firmly enough to give him the idea of where she wanted his attention focused next.
A soft chuckle escaped him. “Message received,” he said as he reached up to unfasten her belt and jeans and started working them down her hips.
He slid her panties down to her knees, then his hands curled around the backs of her thighs. She felt his breath against her pussy before he flicked his tongue out and teased her clit hood.
Now she had to dig in the fingers of the hand curled around Lima’s neck to hold on, because her knees felt like they’d disappeared, replaced by cooked spaghetti. She let out a moan as Quack repeated the action with his tongue again. And again.
If it felt this good now, before they’d really done much, she could only imagine the time she was in for when they got to the even better stuff.
Then Quack buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, taking her breath away and driving her so hard and fast into an orgasm it almost felt like she might pass out.
Lima wrapped his arms around her, holding her, supporting her. “That’s it, baby. Let go, let it out. Let us make you feel good.”
Good? That was the biggest understatement she’d ever heard in her life.
And she let go. She trusted Lima not to let her hit the floor, and trusted Quack to keep her feeling like her feet had shaken the tether of gravity and sent her soaring.
At some point Lima had gently lowered her down onto the bedrolls, cradling her while allowing Quack to pull her shoes, socks, jeans, and panties off and push her legs wide apart before he dove between them again with his eager mouth. She threw her head back onto Lima’s shoulder and sucked in a deep breath before blowing it out again. Another breath, and then she was moaning because Lima had cupped her breasts in his hands and was running the pads of his thumbs over her nipples.
Quack slid one, then two fingers inside her pussy and slowly fucked them in and out of her. She was wet, her clit tingling as she succumbed to her next climax.
When her eyes finished rolling back in her head, she realized Quack was looking up at her with a smile on his face. “How was that?”
She nodded. “Please tell me you guys have condoms?”
His smile widened and he held one up.
She nodded again. “Yeah.”
He stood and unfastened his belt and trousers, shoving them and his briefs to the floor. His cock sprang free, eight inches and ready for action. She crooked a finger at him.