Now that they were safely away from the vibrator store, Alex asked lightly, “What was that guy looking at, Katrina?”
“Saul Wakeman? Oh, he’s some major Peeping Tom. I don’t know why he doesn’t just subscribe to those magazines. Instead he gets fingerprints all over them and breathes heavily on them. Ruins them for the next voyeur who comes along.”
Shane said, “Maybe he doesn’t want his wife seeing them in the mailbox.”
“No, the guy holding that weird clear cylinder. What was that?”
Katrina walked between the two men, and now she hooked a hand inside each one’s elbow. “Oh, that? That’s a penis pump. I haven’t really looked into it, because they’re used for men who can’t get it up very well. Never had to look into that particular problem.”
Aha. Alex felt better now. He could hold that over Troy’s head if he threatened to blab about what he’d heard. Alex knew he’d have to come to grips with his bisexuality sooner or later. It was really no big deal these days. It just didn’t really gibe with the whole macho firehouse aura, especially when bored, muscular, potent men were naked in close quarters together. Well, maybe it did in houses down in the Bay Area or Los Angeles. But not up here in the hearty, masculine Sierras.
Now Katrina asked Shane, “Do you have smooth moves?”
“Smooth moves. Look, I know some or most of what your brother was accusing you of is bullshit, just the product of his injured pride. I can vouch that he’s honestly happy, ecstatically happy, with Lacey and Chase. He was happy being monogamous with Chase for a year before they included Lacey. But the part where he said I was just being vulnerable to your sleazy smooth moves…”
Alex answered first. “Oh, I can vouch for his smooth moves, Katrina. Look how he smoothly convinced me to swallow my disgust in your kitchen and take his dick into my mouth.” A tourist couple passing them the other way on the sidewalk gave Alex an odd glance, but he had to start being “out” somewhere, sometime.
“Oh, yeah,” Katrina agreed. “I know that was just Shane’s sleazy smoothness that convinced you to swallow all that jism. Had nothing to do with me orchestrating the entire thing.”
Shane added, “Or you wanting to, Alex. No, I got to admit, Katrina, there used to be some element of truth to that accusation. I was a smooth operator, but so was Devin. That was a long, fucking immature time ago. I’m forty years old. I’m not interested in just using anyone as a toy and throwing them away anymore.”
“And you weren’t even then,” Alex reminded him. “You sound like you were honestly in love with that Selina chick.”
“Slut,” Katrina added.
Shane smiled. He looked even handsomer, if such a thing was possible, with the tiniest of little smile lines at the corners of his eyes. “Slut, yeah. But listen. Let’s sit on this bench.”
They were in the downtown park where Alex had first hosed Shane and Katrina, what seemed like months ago now. Shane sat between the two, as he obviously had something to say. He folded his hands between his knees and looked at the grass. “But I do think I’m going to have to do something insensitive and dickheadish, or whatever my brother called me. I know I didn’t forfeit my right to any part of our land when I left. I still own half of Hardscrabble, but I’d just be asking for more strife and bad blood if I busted on in there and started looking at pine trees.”
“Why not?” Katrina cried softly, wringing his forearm. “You have every right to look at his—I mean your—damned pine trees.”
“Sure I do, but I don’t want to stir the pot. Katrina, I told you about that bug infestation in Italy’s piñon pines? Well, on my way back here from China I stopped there and picked up some infested Italian cones to ship to British Columbia.”
Alex asked the logical question. “Why British Columbia?”
“Because some scientists there in their Ministry of Agriculture think they’ve found a bug, a wasp actually, that can eradicate the ‘stink bug’ that’s infesting all of Europe’s piñon pines. I wanted to see if it worked on the Italian pinecones.”
“That’s genius,” breathed Alex. “When will you find out?”
Shane finally looked him in the eye. “I already did. Canada texted me this morning. Their wasp ate every last damned stink bug that was in that pinecone container.”
Katrina raised her palm to high-five Shane, but he was too morose to lift his hand, so Alex prodded, “So what’s wrong, then? You’ve solved the problem. Just get the Canadians to send you a boatload of these wasps. You’ve got so much land you could probably plant some more Italian pines and produce even better pesto.”
Shane sighed deeply, as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “I don’t want the two of you involved in this mess. It’s best if I just go back to British Columbia until Devin cools down and I’ve sorted this whole disaster out.”
“Why?” Both Alex and Katrina cried out at the same time. Now Alex even clutched Shane’s forearm. He didn’t care who saw.
“Because there’s someone from my past, from China, coming after me, probably for the wasp, or worse. I know I saw him watching Katrina’s window today at lunch. The last thing I want to do is involve the two of you in that nasty business. Those triad assholes don’t mess around.”
Alex asked, “How do you know it was one of them?”
“Well, in the first place, there are probably only three Asians living in Hell’s Delight. And zero of them have the number four two six tattooed on their neck.”
Disengaging himself from Alex’s prick, Shane twisted his torso about and snatched the flapper from Katrina’s grip. His eyes flashed with a combination of arousal and anger. At the moment both were probably the same thing. “Now.”
Just that one word and Katrina’s heart was struck with fear. Wasn’t that the safeword we agreed on?She, too, froze, on her knees next to Shane. “What?” she squeaked.
“Now.” Shane stood and tossed the little flogger onto the couch. He looked like a veritable god standing there, his erection jutting from his pants. One muscle in his chest flexed, and Katrina just wanted to nibble on that erect nipple. “It’s your turn to get to work.”
It seemed to dawn on Alex slowly what Shane was driving at. “Oh, amen to that, buddy. Gangsuck.”
Katrina sputtered. “But—what—”
Shane bent and held a finger to her lips. “Ssh.” He spoke gently, in control now. “Those lips weren’t made for talking, little Katrina, were they?”
Eyes wide, she shook her head. Shane smiled patiently and stood upright again, his massive cock bobbing in the air before her. “Okay, then. Get to work.”
Just as Shane had done to Alex before her, Katrina dove in.
She had been afraid earlier, watching Alex guzzle down that beefy prick, that it might be difficult for her. She’d been right. Even slathering the giant limb with her saliva and helping by jacking him with her thumb, she could only get a little over half of it down her gullet. She hadn’t had this problem with Marco, that was for sure. How do men do it? Men have bigger mouths.
But she soon found that her eagerness nearly made up for her lack of a big mouth, and she felt the trembling up the fronts of his thighs that indicated he was near coming. He was probably turned on already, sucking on Alex. I know he loved it. He loved being forced. He just can’t admit it.
Katrina found that she loved being forced, too, and Shane and Alex both kept up a steady nasty patter.
Shane snarled, “Ah, that’s good, little Katrina. Wo de airen, you’re good. Keep sucking my big dick. You were made for this, being on your knees eating cock, and you know it.”
Alex was even more enthusiastic than Shane, if it was possible. “Yeah, Katrina. You are one nasty, dirty little girl. I don’t blame you for being so eager to suck Shane’s big cock. I was, too. Wait till you taste him, Katrina. Wait till you swallow his tasty seed. Tastes like champagne. That’s good. Suck harder, Katrina. You can do it. I didn’t think I could take it all, but I did.”
With Shane clutching a handful of her hair and nearly tearing it from her skull, he came. Buckets and buckets, it seemed. The first jet spurted so forcefully she automatically swallowed it. But the second and third jets came so fast she was unprepared, and lots of seed dribbled out the sides of her mouth.
But Katrina soldiered on, loving the pulsing feel of the urethra against her tongue as she milked Shane’s seed. She had always loved pleasing men, and their orgasms were the ultimate pleasure. Maybe she could find a happy balance between dominating and being submissive. She certainly liked being submissive to the built, masterful Shane Jonas.
She didn’t even hear Shane breathe, but Alex was so eager to join in she felt his cock tapping her shoulder. She wanted to make sure she drained every last drop from Shane’s dick, but suddenly Shane sucked in huge lungfuls of air, as though he’d been asleep, and pulled out of her mouth.
“Ah!” he groaned. Then in a fresh commanding tone, he ordered, “Service him now.”
So Katrina went from sucking one giant cock to sucking another. She felt wanton and lewd, the two powerful men hovering over her, demanding satisfaction from her. Luckily Alex’s cock wasn’t as thick. Her jaws had felt about to give out working on Shane’s prick. Now she had an easier time. She could sit back on her heels and get creative, even, swirling her tongue around the eager head, deep throating his dick so deeply she felt it nudge her tonsils.
Shane stood behind Alex, propping him up, and offered Katrina encouragement. “Perfect, little Katrina. He’s already been primed with my sucking, so he’s going to shoot fast. That’s it, Alex. Shoot into her pretty little mouth. She’s a good, obedient cocksucker, isn’t she?”
She had to get back to the contractor surfacing her swimming pool, but she recalled many items she had wanted to discuss with the men. The two men who had just given her the biggest, most outrageous orgasm of her life.
“Hey, guys,” she said as she exited the bathroom. “We need to start moving this equipment into the—oh, hello.”
A worker was standing in Cesar’s room eyeballing the spanking bench. She recognized the guy as a laborer for Chas White, the amazing vanishing contractor. She needed to speak to Chas, and apparently Amadeo did, too, because he was now telling the worker, “Tell Chas to call Amadeo Barbieri over at the Lone Palm Ranch. Tell him the building inspector put a stop work order on my tack room and I’m not pleased with his work.”
“No shit,” the African-American worker agreed. “I’ve worked for Chas for two years and have seen him maybe a handful of times. I hate to say that about a boss of mine, but it’s the truth. He’s as rare as a sincere fart in church.”
“Where does he go the whole day?” Willow asked.
“Well, it’s a matter of great speculation among us workers. I really shouldn’t speculate in front of clients, but he does leave us holding the bag most of the time. Let’s just say, he’s an aficionado of tennis.”
Willow didn’t understand, but her two men seemed to. “Ah,” said Amadeo knowingly. “All right, then. Thanks, Carl. I can probably find him over at the Racquet Club myself.”
Carl turned to leave. He pointed back over his shoulder. “And he probably likes that bench, too.”
Willow said, “Tell him to call Willow Paige, too! Well, that was weird. Listen, guys. I was trying to tell you about Ronnie Dobbs way back when I first came in. I talked to Jaclyn’s boyfriend, Fernando.”
“I’m familiar with him,” said Steffen. “He does a lot of work around town.”
“He does?” Willow was surprised that Fernando was actually known for work. “Anyway, Ronnie Dobbs is currently incarcerated at the county jail. He was arrested playing air guitar on the arm of that giant T. Rex statue alongside the highway, so he won’t be harassing me for a few days at least.”
Steffen nodded. “He has a Beaumont address, so he was probably on his way back home when he got arrested. He was just playing air guitar? Doesn’t sound like much of a reason to arrest a guy, even The Most Arrested Man in the Coachella Valley. I’m going to put a BOLO out on his truck, make sure he gets stopped if he’s anywhere within a ten-mile radius of the Searchlight Motel.”
Willow said, “Well, obviously the air guitar wasn’t the whole thing. Apparently Ronnie tried to run from the cops who were yelling at him from one of those megaphones. But he fell down and started flailing around, so the cops easily arrested him.”
Amadeo chuckled. “Sounds like a major character.”
“Oh, he is,” Steffen assured him. “He came sniffing around here looking for some artifact, but he was so creepy I scared him off. Why was he flailing around, did they figure out?”
“Well,” said Willow. “Apparently he’d been snorting some fire ants to celebrate some Wizard of Oz thing. The ants bit his trachea and it swelled up, so he had trouble breathing. Then he claimed police brutality.”
“Oh, he always does that,” said Steffen. “You should see his police record. In between the arrests, it’s one long incident of ‘police brutality.’ I wonder what The Wizard of Oz has to do with fire ants.”
Amadeo helped out. “Let me guess. It wasn’t The Wizard of Oz. Was it Ozzfest?”
Willow clapped her hands together. “That was it! Ozzfest! How’d you know? What is Ozzfest?”
Amadeo said, “There’s an urban legend that Ozzy Osbourne—he’s some heavy metal guy—snorted fire ants. What a moron. Everyone knows you can’t snort fire ants. They haven’t held an Ozzfest since 2010.”
“Says the guy who knows.” Steffen chided him good-naturedly. “Must be your experience in the Unbearable Rightness of Swing.”
Willow giggled. “Well, Ronnie is off the streets for awhile anyway. I don’t think we have anything to fear from him. He’s just a high goofball.”
“And wife-beater,” Steffen told Amadeo.
“What?” Amadeo puffed up to greater proportions when angry. “Let’s get this BOLO out on this guy, Steffen. I’ve got more than a few friends down at County.”
“Same here,” said Steffen. “Let’s go down in person, if we can’t find Chas White first. Listen, Willow, my little sunset palomino.” His reference to her motel’s former business reminded Willow that she hadn’t told Steffen about the “menu” she had found. But he seemed in a rush to depart with Amadeo. “Keep those balls in, my little filly. We’ll be back tonight to take you to dinner. Right, Amadeo?”
“But of course,” agreed Amadeo.
Willow liked being a “little filly” so much she didn’t mind when the men left for the County. She dove back into her remodeling work with gusto. She was reminded with every step that she took of the two men who had given her the gift of the amazing orgasm. For some reason they seemed as though they wanted to date her—seriously date her. It had been so long since she had noticed anyone make a pass at her, Willow was entirely skeptical. But the two balls rolling against each other inside of her told her otherwise.
“My little filly,” he said. He had seen some gangster call a gal that on an old movie, and it fit with the whole Palomino Ranch motif of her motel. Steffen knew women couldn’t resist his German-Irish accent, and Willow was no exception. Was it wrong to use this to his advantage? Why the hell not? He petted her face with the back of his hand. “It does make me jealous to see Amadeo kiss you, but I’ll get over it, I hope. I just want to be the only one pleasuring you. What if Amadeo is better at it than me? You see my dilemma.”
“Sweetie,” cooed Willow. “What do you have to be worried about? You’re the sexiest, tastiest man I’ve ever met. You were obviously so skilled the other day at giving me a hand relief party.”
Steffen was perplexed. “A…a what?”
Willow grinned secretively. She reached into her giant handbag that she’d thrown onto the ground by the rock. Amadeo kneeled beside Steffen to see what Willow pulled from the bag. It was a piece of shiny black cardboard that declared in pink lettering:
The Best Fillies in California!
“What the fuck?” said Steffen, taking the cardboard from Willow’s fingers.
“It’s a menu I found in an old file drawer in the motel office.”
A slow smile spread over Steffen’s face. Apparently Willow had discovered a bill of fare from the old “World Famous” Sunset Palomino Ranch. “This is a great find, Willow! Look at this. A Hand Relief Party is one of the appetizers.”
Amadeo said, “I guess we’re just getting started. Hey, look. Bondage Dungeon. That must’ve been the room we were in the other day.”
“No doubt,” said Steffen, eagerly scanning the offerings. “Some of these are obvious, but others are kind of obscure. Like, what’s a Milky Way?”
Amadeo said right off the bat, “That’s when men like to nuzzle women who are lactating.” His hand automatically shot out to fondle one of Willow’s breasts, although he didn’t take his eyes from the menu.
Steffen’s hand automatically shot out to slap Amadeo’s hand away. “Okay, you’re the expert.”
“The sexpert.” Willow giggled.
“Then what’s this? A Spit Roast? I can picture a pig on a spit being roasted over a barbecue. That doesn’t conjure up anything particularly sexy.”
“That’s easy,” said Amadeo. “That can be combined with a Feast at the Y.”
Steffen scoffed. “I can figure out what that is.”
“Oh yeah?” Amadeo’s tone was challenging. “Then do it, lover boy.” To assist, Amadeo took Willow’s skirt hem between his fingers and slid it up her thigh.
Willow didn’t protest, but cast Steffen a low, sultry look. “It is on the entrée menu, Steffen.” She parted her thighs to indicate her willingness to give Steffen a Feast at the Y. She leaned back on the rock on one hand and hitched one sandal up into a cranny, giving Steffen a display of her narrow thong, her pussy lips bulging enticingly on either side of the fabric strip.
Amadeo moved behind Steffen, rubbing the back of his neck with encouragement. “Go ahead, bro. Have your fill.”
Steffen needed no more enticing. He considered himself a proficient muff diver. That Domme he had lived with had often “queened” him while he was tied up, so he had developed strong throat and tongue muscles. That was a couple of years ago, though—he’d been a swinging bachelor ever since, and bachelors didn’t often run around performing cunnilingus. Still, Steffen calculated in his head as he dove in to take tiny, licking bites of Willow’s inner thighs. It had taken her approximately thirty seconds to come the other day when he’d given her that Hand Relief Party. And she still had the Ben Wa balls inside of her. This wouldn’t take long at all.
He hadn’t counted, though, on being so utterly distracted by Amadeo.
First off, Amadeo reached around and grabbed one of Steffen’s wrists. Before Steffen could protest—if he had wanted to—he was once again cuffed, this time with his wrists in front of him. He tried not to miss a beat in his tonguing of Willow. Her inner thigh was like a creamy pillow, and she twitched every time he licked her. He hooked a finger around the strip of fabric and pulled it aside. When he touched the tip of his nose to the clitoris that peeked from between her labia, she gasped.
That was a good sign, and she clutched the back of his skull to cradle him to her.
But Amadeo couldn’t just let him have his fun. He cupped Steffen’s stiff penis, clothed inside his jeans, and squeezed. “This is all I imagined after seeing you in the shower at school. I’d cuff you to the shower head and suck on this long, fat cock.”
“That’s right,” Willow encouraged. Steffen didn’t know if the spoke to him or Amadeo, but either was fine. “That’s perfect.”
Steffen reached out his tongue-tip to swipe at the bulging clitoris, and Willow near about tore a handful of his hair out. He was doing it right, this Feast at the Y.
“Speaking of,” said Ian. “Did your father give you any more grief about your activities at the Fett Axel in Stockholm?”
Felicity fiddled with her fingers in her lap. “Yes, he gave me grief, all right. I think he’s been very successful in convincing me to give up the lifestyle.”
“What?” Ian leaned closer to her and put his hand over hers. “You can’t let a man suffering from dementia alter your life so radically, Felicity! Hasn’t he also been known to put his pajama pants on over his trousers, put his wristwatch into the fridge, and accuse his therapist of being Jimmy Carter?”
A laugh forced its way through Felicity’s sorrow. “That’s true. He did think his shrink was the former president, there to force him to build a house for Habitat for Humanity.”
Ian said, “See? So you’re going to listen to him when he begs you to give up your life?”
“Okay, then! If you really don’t want me staying in Utah, I’ll return to Stockholm!”
Victor stepped closer. “Actually, I agree with Ian, not for the reasons you think. Ian can’t stay in Utah either, for obvious reasons, and I’m going to have to go back to the Salt Lake office when I’m done with the current assignment. But Felicity, he’s right. You can’t allow a man to dictate your life who thinks he has to attend the Camp David accords to get the Sunnis and the Shiites together.”
“Oh, yes,” Felicity agreed warmly. “He thinks they just need to have an honest dialogue.”
Victor sat on the couch’s arm. “See? And you’re going to let this peanut farmer convince you to start an entirely new career?”
“Well.” Felicity seemed to blush. “I know he’s said and done some dubious things in recent years, but he was pretty lucid when we Skyped. And his reasons for begging me to change my life were not because I’ve been immoral or corrupt, but because he doesn’t see much future in the Dominatrix field.”
Ian nodded. “I can see his point of view. You need to do something more forgiving in terms of aging.” Swiftly he added, “Not that you won’t age gracefully. But one must be practical.”
Felicity squeezed Ian’s hand. “No offense taken, sweetie. I agree with my father. I’m working on it with my sisters as to what I could possibly do out here. It would be nice to be around them again, especially since they seem as though they’ve all turned out to be wonderful, caring people.” She sighed deeply and stared off distantly. “I know I’ve been running from myself since my husband’s death. I do feel that I’m no more Mistress Klara than I am Where’s Waldo or Marge Simpson. Although I do have hair like Marge, if I pile it high enough.”
Ian squeezed her hand too. “I’m sure your talents for running a club will translate well into running some aspect of the lodge. And speaking of talents. We need you to help—”
“Oh! That reminds me.” Felicity stood and picked up her coat. She rifled through the pockets. “I wanted to give you something, Ian, to symbolize our relationship. Something for you to remember me by.”
Ian waved her away. “Oh, don’t be such a sappy twit, Felicity. I don’t need a gift from you to remember you. Here’s a deal. If you stay at the lodge, I’ll come visit you here. You can torture my cock and balls any time.”
“No, seriously. Here.”
Ian took the black leather...cock ring? “Where did you find such a thing around here?”
Felicity took her seat next to Ian and plucked the cock ring from his fingers. “I had my manager in Stockholm express me some things I thought I might need, and I thought of this. Here.” With relief he saw it wasn’t a cock ring but a wrist cuff, a bracelet. “This is to reward you for being such a good slave. It designates you as my play partner.” Wrapping it around his wrist, she pressed the snaps together with a sound of finality.
Ian looked at Victor, feeling smug. She hadn’t given Victor any such sign of ownership. “I belong to Felicity,” he sniffed. He dared to kiss her for the first time, and her lips were pliant and soft. They smacked at each other’s mouths with genuine love. Ian’s chest swelled with emotion as he held her birdlike shoulders in his hands and inhaled her honeyed scent.
They withdrew a few inches, smiling stupidly at each other. Ian didn’t see her as Mistress Klara anymore. She seemed to be becoming more comfortable as Mistress Felicity.
His mouth curled sensuously. This whole Iron Man thing was working very well for him. He probably had women coming out his ears, being a famous biologist who traveled the globe giving knowledgeable speeches to esteemed societies. “You’re a sultry tigress,” he said with wonder. She squirmed, not knowing if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Then he dove back into her cleavage.
Popping a breast from its casing, Victor nibbled and worried the erect nipple. Felicity hadn’t experienced this sensation in months, years perhaps. Once in a while bound fellows got loose and ran amok, and that was probably the last time anyone had nuzzled at her breast. She gasped loudly with the shock of it. He supped at her nipple like a frisky puppy until she could stand it no more. He squeezed her tit at the base and popped it into his mouth, laving the entire tip with the flat of his tongue.
Felicity squealed, truly unprepared for such an assault. She was fairly well schooled in casual modes of self-defense, so it was almost automatic for her to bring her leg up and knee him in the balls. He sucked in air and paused in his gurgling, but she hadn’t kneed him that horribly, and he went right back to his feast. This time he released the other tit from its bondage. He nursed that one enthusiastically, nibbling and sucking, before burying his face between them and applying one enormous lick to the valley there.
Felicity’s pussy was trickling juice into her ass crack, he was making her that hot. She humped his hip bone while shimmying her shoulders, the better to wriggle his face into her bosom. But her words told him a different story. “You rat bastard. How dare you take advantage of me? Just because almost all women are naturally weaker than most men, you use your strength to control me. Do you like taking advantage of women who don’t want you?” Again she grabbed a handful of his tie that now hung from his neck like a noose after their tussling. She was a strong woman, having not much else to do in her downtime in Stockholm but work out and lift weights, and she snapped his head back to attention. He looked even more handsome, if such a thing was possible, with his thick dark hair all in disarray. “Do you hear me, you bastard?”
Victor only grinned again! He said smoothly, “Do you really expect me to believe you’re not enjoying this? You’ve got a spectacular rack, Mistress, in case you weren’t aware.” Even more impudently, he slid his palm over the rise of her boob and diddled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Here he was practically dangling from the noose she’d made of his tie, still arrogant enough to toy with her like that!
She yanked him with the tie, her other hand shoving his chest. He stumbled back, giving her enough room to leap to her feet. Her bared tits swayed, buoyed up by the bra’s underwire cage. In the towering beige heels and slim slacks with tendrils of her flaming red hair coming undone from her bun, she knew she was the picture of the vivacious Amazon. In the flashing of a few fingers, his tie was undone, limp in her hand.
She growled, “You think you’re the first man who has come along and thought he could best me? You’d be amazed how many men have that fantasy. ‘Oh, I’ll overpower the big, redheaded Domme, and’—hey!”
The next thing Felicity knew, the tie was in Victor’s hand. He twirled her around while simultaneously gripping both her wrists together in the small of her back. Maybe because it was so unexpected, Felicity allowed herself to be handled like a blow-up doll. She came to her senses, but not in time to wrench her hand from the knot Victor swiftly tied with the zeal of a Boy Scout.
“You pig!” she shrieked. “We haven’t talked—we have no safe word—we have no mutual agreement at all! How dare you bind me without my consent?”
The heated slab of his body pressed against her back. He rattled her by the wrists, ensuring his knot was solid. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? It’s called bondage and discipline for a reason. You forget, Mistress. I’m experienced in tying women up.”
“How dare you—”
With only a slight shove, Victor was able to topple her face first onto one of the beds.
His voice was breezily cheerful as he stood between her feet, removing first one strappy heel and then the other. “Yes, some women underestimate me because I’m an animal biologist who hangs out in the savannah with the hyenas and baboons. But I tell you, Mistress—there hasn’t been a tigress yet that I couldn’t conquer. And definitely not one as regal as you.”
Felicity wailed, “We don’t play this way in Stockholm! No one tries to take unfair advantage of the other!”
Kneeling between her outspread thighs, Victor slid his hands between her waist and the mattress. He undid the button and zipper like a magician—they parted like butter at his touch. “There’s one thing you’re forgetting, Mistress.” With one yank, he’d bared her generous white butt to the ceiling. She squirmed like someone in a sack race, but her wriggling probably only made Victor randier. He slapped her ass, cupping his palm like an experienced Dom, knowing it would sound louder that way. Felicity gasped, but relished the warm tingling spread of forbidden pleasure, and wished he would spank her again. “I know that you like this treatment.”
“Ah, the skeleton?” Perry shouted.
His loud donkey’s voice startled Sasha, who jumped. Rowan put his arms protectively around her, and they both looked out the window at the road’s shoulder. “It’s probably not even our target,” grumped Rowan. “El Zeub doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to wear an entire mountain lion on his head.”
“A fake cartoon mountain lion, maybe,” Perry reminded him. Perry had the theory that perhaps El Zeub was taking a couple vacation days off from his terrorism schedule to actually attend the Great Utah FurFest—that he wasn’t following Sasha at all.
Rowan said, “El Zeub isn’t a survivalist that I can tell. He stayed in a five-star hotel in Detroit.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to look like another whacky hunter,” suggested Perry, “by wearing that mountain lion on his head.”
Rowan said, “Or maybe it is another hunter. Don’t they use little caverns to stash their hunting gear?”
Sasha asked, “How far are we from Navajo land? Could the citizen have seen a Native American performing some ritual?”
Perry admitted, “We’ll be onto res land if we keep going, that’s for sure. And they don’t like me poking around in their affairs. El Zeub could know that. Fugitives have been known to hide on res land. But the citizen also would’ve told dispatch that he saw the bomber on res land. Around here everyone knows the boundaries. And sure, Navajo have ‘skin-walkers,’ witches who travel in animal form. They can wear the pelts of their animals—I’ve seen dudes with coyotes or crows on their heads running around, trying to scare people with their evil powers. So yeah, to answer your question. It could have been something like that.”
“Must get confusing out here,” said Rowan, “between hunters, skin-walkers, and Furries.”
“Well, the Furries are no problem,” said Sasha sincerely. “You can tell by their bright colors that they aren’t organic.”
Rowan thought Sasha’s literalness was adorable. She must have to be so completely sophisticated and scrupulous about everything she said for her job. One could not run around being misunderstood when dictating an autopsy report. Being spontaneous as she had been the past couple of days must have been exhilarating for her. “All right,” Rowan allowed. “But telling the hunters from the skin-walkers could be difficult, at a distance.”
“Oh, no problem, really,” said Perry. “The skin-walkers have glowing eyes.”
After another hour, they still hadn’t found the skeleton, and Perry pulled off onto a side road to show them some incredible vista. They had to walk up a steep red-orange sandy hill, and Perry would not leave Sasha’s side. He stuck to her almost as tenaciously as the bomb-sniffing Labrador that followed them. Rowan was irritated because he had something to give Sasha.
“Perry, how did you learn all that fire stuff?” he asked casually. He had taken one of Sasha’s arms and Perry took the other. Now they practically dragged her as though she were an invalid.
“Actually,” Perry said sheepishly, “I was always kind of a firebug. I love the rush, the excitement of watching the flames flicker. My father was always busting me playing with matches. I never set anything horribly on fire. I never let it get out of control because that was part of the fun—controlling the fire. I knew so much about how to put out fires I became a fireman when I was sixteen.”
“Wait a minute,” said Sasha. “You’re a conservation officer yet also a pyromaniac? Interesting.”
Rowan chuckled as Perry hastened to assure his girlfriend. “Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a pyromaniac, per se. How could I be? I’m charged with stopping fires, not starting them. I just think there’s a beauty in the luminosity, the sparks, the flames. It’s more a scientific interest.”
Rowan laughed fully now. He was glad that Sasha was studying Perry under the microscope currently, and not him. “Scientific, I see. And that’s how you learned how to make trails of fire up a woman’s chest?”
“In a way, yes. I never knew it was a thing until years later, but I was a teen when I started playing with fire and women’s bodies. I had a girlfriend once who could swallow a fire stick up her pussy.”
Sasha shook off both men’s guiding hands. “Oh, come now! The hair on her vulva would burn before you could get the fire inside her vaginal canal.”
“Well,” Perry said, “she did shave her vulva.”
Rowan reached for Sasha’s forearm again before Perry could get carried away rhapsodizing about the joys of conflagration. “I want to show you something.”
Sasha allowed herself to be led behind a rocky outcropping while Perry stood like an adventurer at the top of the dune. The sun was low in the sky, bathing him in heroic, amber tones. The dog even sat, posing in profile. Rowan realized he admired Perry for his outdoorsy, healthy lifestyle. The only time Rowan spent outdoors was when he had to stake out a target, and that rarely ever took place out in nature. More like sitting in a car by the side of the road inhaling exhaust fumes. “See?” Perry shouted. “There’s that monolith, standing by itself in the middle of the valley. It looks like god is giving everyone the finger.”
The monolith and its brothers did resemble a miniature Monument Valley, the spires rising straight from the flat desert as though they had erupted through the earth’s crust. Rowan tugged Sasha behind a boulder so she could marvel at the rock formation.
Sasha took the tiny fossil. Rowan had purchased it from a Navajo guy selling stuff by the side of the road days earlier, before he had found Sasha again at the Triple Play—before he had impulsively sucked Perry’s dick against the hood of his company SUV. It seemed like years ago in terms of how much had changed emotionally. Now, love welled in his chest as he watched Sasha examine the little cephalopod with a critical eye. “A pyritized ammonite.”
“Exactly. I thought you’d like it because you’re…”
Sasha looked up at him. “Scientific?”
“Yes,” said Rowan, unsure of himself now. He had probably given her the fossil equivalent of a Justin Bieber album.
“If you’ve never done this,” Sasha pointed out logically, “what are you doing travelling around with so many pairs of handcuffs?”
He tightened one around her ankle. “Good question. Easy answer. Nathan Horowitz has a lot of them lying around.”
Sasha gasped, but now her other ankle was bound to the bedpost, so she couldn’t even kick him with her patent leather shoes. “Nathan? Oh, dear God! You spoke to him about handcuffs?”
Cinching the strap professionally, Rowan stood, uncaring if his massive erection was bulging in the crotch of his jeans. He was proud when her eyes strayed there. “We mercs have to stick together. But I didn’t think you’d like the government-issue metal cuffs we carry.”
“Oh, so very thoughtful of you to line my wrists and ankles with fur. Ever the gentleman. Now my entire family knows you’re tying me up.”
Rowan quickly found the small scissors that were one attachment of his Swiss army knife. He got down on his knees between her thighs, amused at the shadow of doubt that passed over her face. “Hey. Not only does he know, he said Xandra said to be careful with these cuffs. They’re antique. She brought them all the way from Charleston.”
Sasha gasped again, for an entirely different reason. Pinching a bit of the real silk that covered her naked crotch<!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->, Rowan drew it away and cut an oval in the fabric. “What are you doing?” was her natural question.
“You want to be able to come real nice, don’t you?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
The stockings were ruined now, but who cared? Closing up the knife, Rowan shoved it in his pocket and took a nibble of bare flesh near her labia. He made sure to snort hot breath against her quivering clit. Judging by how strongly she had come when just his fingers had diddled her to her second orgasm in ten minutes, he knew she would simply explode once his mouth started working on her.
“Oh! Rowan! You’re so nasty!” Since she couldn’t grab him, she made do with shuddering and shimmying her hips into the air, giving him better access to her pussy. At first he merely nibbled at her flesh. Her clitoris elongated and reddened, emerging from between her labia, standing up eagerly for attention. Rowan slid his shoulders beneath her ass to lift her, and his tongue tip tickled her perineum. Now he was faced with the little shell of her pussy, and he teased her with the tiniest of licks to the outside of her slit.
“Rowan!” she roared. “If I had hands I’d be punching the daylights out of you! Go, man, go! Stop taking your time! You’re driving me absolutely out of my frigging mind!”
Rowan lifted his head and looked down at her. Her shoulders were pressed to the mattress, the bracelets holding them taut between the bed posts. Her eyes bulged from her skull. She looked genuinely angry, so he soothed her. “It’s called S&M for a reason, my dear girl. There’s the sadist part. That would be me. That leaves only you to be the masochist. Part of our play involves pleasurable torture. You love this form of torture, don’t you?”
“Yes!” she roared. “No! I mean, I don’t know!”
“You don’t know? Let’s find out.” Rowan lowered his head and dove right in, lapping at the bulb of her clit and coaxing groans that were loud as hell for such a petite—and conservative—gal. Ah, this one is sweet. I’m going to pleasure her so thoroughly she won’t be able to think about that adorable Gomer of a game warden. He knew that when he moaned against her clit, the vibrations would carry through to her uterus, making it shudder.
She keened now like a coyote. She had very little wiggle room, and Rowan heard her yanking on the arm restraints. All she could do was thrust her hips at him and wail. “Rowannnn…Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
Someone knocked at her front door now, so he had to speed up the procedure. His tongue must have been a blur as he worked the clit, and he knew when Sasha suddenly fell silent, she was teetering on that cliff right before orgasm inexorably shoved one over. A tremor ran through her entire body. She nearly levitated, her point of balance somewhere in her left shoulder, everything else entirely off the mattress.
Pivoting on one foot, Devin swiped up the bid sheet. Aha. Lacey Dvorak had easily won the bid, as she’d added about two hundred dollars to top the next highest bidder. Maybe she doesn’t even recognize me, and just likes to give money to the community. This idea was out the window when Devin turned back to the main dining room and smashed directly into Lacey.
Her voluptuous bosom remained plastered to his chest, as a crowd milled around, clamoring to see who’d won the bids, and crushed the two together. Lacey’s flowery perfume wafted up to Devin, and her pretty cornflower eyes sparkled brightly. “Oh! Devin Jonas! So good to finally meet you.”
This isn’t going to work. I can’t be near this woman without becoming aroused. He’d make sure to have his ranch manager show her the ropes when she came for her long weekend. The cook, wranglers, and hands could occupy the rest of her time. They’d be so shocked to have a pretty, straight woman on the land they’d stampede each other to get to her. How could that moronic yogurt shop guy have let her go? Devin had seen Ben earlier, not with the very young lingerie shop girl but with a different inappropriately young girl. “You’re Lacey, right? Looks like you won the bid.” He tried to distract Lacey by waving the bid sheet, but a worker came by and whipped it from his hand. Good. Don’t want her to see she left two hundred bucks on the table.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” she said sincerely. “I always wondered what goes on at a ranch. Is it all right if I bring my girlfriend as my plus one?”
Girlfriend? Dear God, no. Maybe that Ben idiot had driven Lacey to play for the other team! Well, that would solve his dilemma. Chase could lust all he wanted, Lacey would never reciprocate. “Oh, yeah. You can bring whoever you want, of course. There’s something about the ranch that just attracts lesbians for some reason. This is the sixth year I’ll be hosting a couple of women.”
“Oh, no,” Lacey assured him. She even placed a hand on his chest by way of protest. “We’re not lesbians. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She had a lovely giggle, and her front incisors reminded him of a perky cartoon rabbit. He liked that she was somewhat “flawed” by current standards. It was tiring keeping up with Chase. One couldn’t walk down a street with Chase without a hundred people stopping dead in their tracks, inviting him to appear in their television commercials. It really didn’t enhance a guy’s feeling of security. “No, Katrina has been my best friend since childhood. Isn’t it funny how best friends seem to last longer than spouses or partners? Ah, well.”
Her pretty sigh made Devin want to put his arms around her and draw her close, and he knew his penis was elongating against his thigh. His boxer briefs and tight 501s helped keep things in check, but he knew from wide and unfortunate experience that an erection would still be noticeable a mile away. He’d better fade into the crowd fast. Instead, he found himself moronically saying, “I’m hoping that’s not always true. I’m hoping that a lover can be a best friend as well, that they don’t always come and go.”
Lacey looked wistfully at the pit of his throat. “Well, Katrina’s outlasted about ten boyfriends and a husband of mine. I know I need to just pick up my boot heels and move on, or whatever they say, but this is getting ridiculous.”
“Well,” said Devin, “you’re a gorgeous woman, and you seem very sweet and kind. Any man would be a moron to let you go.”
Lacey tilted her head and looked Devin in the eye. He could see a layer of pain beneath the false cheer she was affecting. “Well. You’re the sweet one for saying so. I have a bad feeling it’s only other gay men who agree with you.”
“No, I’m not—”
“It doesn’t really help,” Lacey said, leaning in confidentially and rubbing her satin-clad nipples against his chest, “that six months ago I agreed to auction myself off tonight, back when I was still married.” She laughed bitterly. “I know these dating auctions are a farce and most people don’t wind up actually going on the date and it’s all for charity, but still. It’s not going to help my self-esteem now that, obviously, my ex-husband isn’t going to bid on me but on some lingerie shop bimbo instead. I’ll probably wind up going for twenty-five dollars to some Folsom inmate who bids online.”
“A collar would look good,” Chase suggested dumbly.
The collar pegs were nearby, so Devin flipped one off and unsnapped it. It was black leather to match the corset, and Chase was right. When he snapped it around Lacey’s neck it nearly completed the look.
“There’s even a little ring for a leash,” Chase pointed out.
Inspired by Chase’s helplessness, Devin decided to push it a little farther. He stripped off his thin T-shirt and intensely watched Lacey’s face. He didn’t normally parade around the streets or the merchants association meetings shirtless, but he had a vague idea that he had an admirable torso. Sometimes he thought people were just wondering what his tattoos were, but both Incan bicep tattoos could be seen with the T-shirt on. Indeed, Lacey’s pupils dilated and her delectable lower lip shined as she watched him in the mirror.
He glued his naked torso to her half-nude back and wrapped one arm across her breastbone. She still kept her forearm clamped to cover her nipples, but the direct contact with his skin made her eyes slide shut and her head wobbled slightly on a weak neck. “Now, Lacey,” he whispered into her ear in between slurps to her neck. “We need you to relax. I’m not a brutal satyr like Chase likes to think.”
“He can be gentle,” Chase said helpfully.
When Devin lifted her hand from her tit, she allowed him. His free hand slid up the corset to cup the naked breast that now swung freely. Soft, heavy, full in his hand. He hadn’t even touched the nipple when Chase felt obligated to say soothingly, “Easy, buckaroo.”
Of course, Chase knew that Devin was about to shoot his load. He lightly touched the breast of this stunning, regal, yes, voluptuous woman, and it had been so long since he’d touched soft female skin he was overwhelmed with the sensation. Chase, of course, had soft skin, but this was different. Where Chase’s skin was velvet, Lacey’s skin was cream. And she had breasts. Big, rounded, aesthetically pleasing—
Without forethought, Devin found himself on his knees in front of Lacey, yanking the black panties down to her feet. Wrapping his hands around her thighs and lifting her, setting her down on a bookshelf, knocking books about blowjobs and G-spots to the floor. From her perch here, she could still watch in the mirror, still admire his broad, muscular back, his shoulders deeply tanned from riding around the ranch, his tramp stamp.
“Dear Mistress Lacey,” he said passionately. She looked beatific gazing down on him, her long strawberry curls flowing over her nipples. “I’m sorry, but I have an overwhelming need to dive into your beautiful muff. Right now.”
And he did.
She cried out like a little girl, but her thighs were spread, and Devin nudged his nose into the cleft between her labia. Her tight strawberry curls filled his nostrils as he lapped away at the prepuce. Long and plump, it was much juicier and fatter than he recalled a woman’s clitoris. Since allegedly he was an expert cocksucker, it was an easy shift to imagine it as a small cock. He lapped away with long, firm strokes, eliciting a whole series of ecstatic sighs and hisses from the woman.
This was good. This would build her confidence, show her that men were harmless, really, and give her a mind-blowing orgasm. It was win-win on all counts.
And Chase. Of course Chase couldn’t sit still and watch like a good boy. No, he had to scoot over on his butt. He couldn’t just admire Lacey’s long white legs, Devin’s strong tongue muscles, or even Lacey’s pretty pubic hair. No, he had to talk. And talk.
“Good Lord, Dev. You look delicious eating that pussy. You’re so hungry for it. Does it taste like you remember? Maybe I’ll get a taste of it, too. I can barely recall what it’s like. You must be as good a pussy-licker as you are a cocksucker. I can tell by her reaction. Look, she’s strangling you with her thigh, just like I do when you suck me off.”
Devin paused in his lapping to glare down at his partner. It was long enough for Lacey to whimper loudly, cry “no!” and grab a handful of Devin’s hair to urge him back.
Devin captured Chase violently by the scruff of the neck, forcing his face to Devin’s crotch. “Suck me,” he commanded huskily.
And Chase did.
Adrian was about to say that, along with Brooke, he was becoming very interested in the workings of the cattle ranch, but someone pounded on the tack room door then.
“I know you’re in there!” yelled Sol Greenspan. Adrian knew Sol from dealing with Xandra and the coin. The lawyer was a very amusing, fiercely protective, and sleazy sort. Sleazy lawyers were the best. They knew all the ins and outs of things. “Manuel told me he saw things that can’t be unseen looking through that window! I don’t want to suffer the same fate, but I have something urgent to impart to you!”
Adrian waited until Brooke had buttoned her jeans and her cowgirl shirt to unbar the door. The lawyer with the bad comb-over came whistling into the tack room, bringing a rush of frigid air. “What’s so urgent?” Adrian asked.
Sol held his hand out in the “stop” signal toward Gabriel and Adrian. “I know you had every right to arrest that fucktard Wade Rivers, or Thor Heyerdahl, or whatever he’s calling himself. You did a clean sweep of the house, DNA matched, casings matched, cigarette butts, yadda yadda. You had at least ten legitimate charges to keep him in the pokey for a good long time, or several months, whichever comes first.”
“Yeah?” Adrian didn’t like the sound of this. “What happened—he bust out?”
“Close. He made bail. I know you requested it to be set at two hundred thousand dollars, but guess what—someone had even better taste in lawyers than you guys, because ole Dirk Hausenstrauss there had bail reduced to fifty thousand, which he easily made this morning.”
“Fuck!” yelled Gabriel. He grabbed the first thing he saw, a bridle, which he smashed against a saddle.
Now Sol made a picture frame out of his hands. “I’m just telling you this as a courtesy warning. I’ve known about ole Wolfgang Katzenjammer there for years. He’s a thorn in everyone’s side, spewing racist remarks like a volcano, breaking and entering every house between here and Moab. No one’s ever been able to nail him for much of anything. So I got to warn you. He’s going to have it out for you, rifling through his house, taking all his weapons, confiscating his racks and hides. Julian might have to fear the most because he’s half-Navajo.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel snarled bitterly. “Adrian should be safe, with that lily-white skin of his. I resemble my Italian grandfather.”
Sol said, “I think all three of you have some shit creek action going on. And in case you’re thinking what I know you mercenary types like to think, winging this guy isn’t going to mitigate your predicament. You’re gonna have to be on the lookout at every moment.”
“For what?” Brooke asked. “I mean, what’s his style? What does he like to do?”
“Short-sheet the bed?” Gabriel wondered.
Brooke giggled. “Egg the lodge?”
Sol waved them away. “I’ll have to be honest. There have been a few unexplained rapes where his name was bandied about. That seems to be his style. They’re always talking about founding a white breakaway nation. So before you even protest, Opie—you’re the man, you’re the protector, you and Smoky the Italian Bear here. I don’t want to hear any high school protestations that you’re not even going steady and you barely know her. All right? This is your perp and your responsibility to keep my McQueen girls safe.”
Adrian stood next to Brooke and even took her hand. “Oh, I’ll do that, all right. No problem there.”
“Good,” said Sol, jutting out his chin stubbornly. “I’m glad to hear that. Because there’s at least one ranch hand named Manuel who will have to go wash his eyes in bleach after witnessing your shenanigans, which were definitely not high school level. So don’t pretend you don’t know each other.” He walked to the door and didn’t turn around as he pointed behind him.
“And that saddle. Bleach that, too.”
This was how Brooke came to be standing in the shallow end of the indoor mineral pool sucking on Gabriel’s cock as he sat on the tiled edge.
It had been Adrian’s idea, surprisingly enough. “Suck his cock,” Adrian had gently urged as he stood behind her. As if she needed any demonstration, Adrian had reached around her to fondle Gabriel’s large cock. She thought that maybe Adrian became inspired by watching Gabriel get a blow job, so she was perfectly willing and even eager. Adrian, however, gripped Gabriel’s cock at the base, angling the big mushroom head toward Brooke, and explained quietly,
“I want to see what I feel when you suck him. If I’m going to be eaten up with jealousy, this isn’t going to work.”
“Yes,” said Gabriel impatiently. He lifted one foot out of the water and placed it on the tiled edge near his ass, the better to jut his cock forward, displaying his impatience. He smoothed Brooke’s hair with his palm. “Let’s find out. Hop to it!”
Brooke giggled at his half-serious impertinence and reached out to where she’d bundled her towel at the pool’s edge. She withdrew the handcuffs. “Here.” She handed them over her shoulder to Adrian.
“Ah!” said Gabriel. “A thief. I knew you were more than meets the eye, you little vixen.”
Brooke held her wrists together to indicate to Adrian how she could be cuffed at the nape of her neck. She wanted to demonstrate her submissiveness. She knew instinctively that by taking the passive role, Adrian would feel pumped up with power. Once empowered, he wouldn’t feel that she—or Gabriel—would spiral beyond his control.
Adrian snapped the cuffs on in an instant and pressed on the back of her skull, urging her face toward Gabriel’s crotch. He seemed to enjoy wrapping his fist around the girth of the veined penis, jacking it. She dove onto the cock with abandon, gratified when Gabriel uttered a low, deep growl. She sucked as deeply as she could, the taut glans massaging the back of her throat. She took several deep gulps as though trying to suck it down, proud of her hoovering skills, but still unsure if she’d come up to the par Gabriel was accustomed to. Hell, for all I know Adrian is the best cocksucker around.
“There. That’s good.” There was some tension while she waited for Adrian’s reaction to seeing the woman who loved him suck another man, but his words soothed her. “Take his big dick into your mouth. You’re helpless, and I’m not going to let you stop sucking his juicy, long dick.”
As if to underline his supremacy, he clasped her tits in his palm, diddling her nipples, making her squirm. The warm waters of the mineral pool swirled around them, warming Brooke up to her abdomen, but her nipples were hard and pebbled in the early morning air before the receptionist turned on the room heaters. Adrian bent at the knees, inserting his stiff cock between her thighs. She clamped onto it, overjoyed that he was allowing physical intimacy between them. Brooke didn’t know how close he’d been to the traitorous fiancée, but just the fact that she was his fiancée let her know he had loved her. Brooke was prepared to wait a good long time for him to get over that. It was sweet, in a way, that he was so tortured by the other woman’s betrayal. He wouldn’t be so tormented if he hadn’t loved her deeply.
A block of filtered sunlight fell from a skylight, but outside it was snowing. It made Brooke feel protected and safe, as though she were inside a steamy snow globe. Adrian’s prick was thick and squeaky captured between her thighs, and she swung her hips back and forth. She was juicy enough that the prick slid easily, and Brooke began to get fancy with her swivels. Gyrating like a belly dancer while she simultaneously deep-throated Gabriel soon proved too much for Adrian.
“All right,” he gasped, now placing his palm on her forehead and jerking her mouth away from the cock with a popping sound. “Enough.”
Gabriel’s groan echoed against the tiled walls of the pool room. “No…” he wailed, caressing his cock as though injured.
Brooke twirled to face Adrian. “I’m sorry!” she said automatically.
Adrian’s grip was reassuring. He even smiled, and maybe it was her imagination, but the smile seemed affectionate. “Nothing’s your fault. I’m not jealous. I just couldn’t take your dry humping anymore.”
“Or wet humping,” Gabriel said wittily. “Since you’re not jealous, maybe you could allow the lady to finish?”
“Oh, sorry,” Adrian said offhandedly. He turned Brooke around and urged her head back into Gabriel’s crotch. “Please, do finish.”
So Brooke sucked and licked while Adrian angled the cock correctly down her throat. She could tell by the fluttering down the underside of Gabriel’s prick that he wouldn’t last long, so she gulped more energetically. Adrian didn’t insert his cock between her legs this time, but she could feel it knocking against her butt as she gobbled away at Gabriel’s cock.
“That’s it. Suck him good, Brooke. You want to taste his salty seed sliding down your throat. You want to taste that delicious warm jism. Your mouth is watering to swallow his load—That’s right. Suck. Suck harder.”
Nathan mused, “So it’s not the photo itself the bastard is after. It’s something in the frame.”
“I’ll go see Marcus. But you,” said Doug, pointing at Nathan. “Keep things clean. I don’t want to find your…your bag on her floor again.”
Doug exited, and Xandra noted that Nathan promised Doug nothing.
“So you still think my ex has something to do with this?” Xandra had to lift her face and look up at Nathan. She had no more excuse to keep cuddling his chest, and she was getting blood on him.
“I really do, Xandra. It’s my experience random people don’t just commit the same crime over and over. He hasn’t touched your laptop, so it’s not a document he’s after. Do you have another framed photo?”
“Just one more. Another one of me and my sisters.” She didn’t want to break away from Nathan’s comforting proximity, but she really should stop bleeding on him. “It’s in my bedroom, up high on a shelf.”
“Let me clean the blood off, love.” Xandra was thrilled beyond her wildest expectation that he called her “love.” Did he feel the same buzzing thrum of chemistry flowing between them? “It’s not a deep cut, luckily. It’s stopped bleeding already.”
“Yes, he just pressed the knife too hard. But I’ll look like the bride of Frankenstein.” Xandra headed for the bathroom, glad when Nathan followed. Turning on the sink water, she waited for it to warm up. Nathan took the washcloth from her and held it under the warm water, pressing it to her neck. When he removed it, no fresh blood flowed. “I need to ask you something, Nathan,” she said boldly. “Last night. When you got into my bed.”
The washcloth paused on her neck. She knew he was surprised she’d brought that up, but she forged ahead. “You were saying some funny things. It sounded like you were quoting fishing reports. You talked about tiger muskies in a reservoir. Then you said, ‘Roar is fast-sinking.’”
Nathan chuckled feebly. “Oh. I guess I was just reading too many fishing reports, you’re right.”
“What’s a roar, though?”
Nathan shrugged. He put down the bloody cloth and whipped a fresh towel from a rack. “Just one of those things sleeping people mumble, I guess. Sorry for climbing into your bed. I took a new pill the doctor in Abilene gave me. Sure not taking that again.”
Xandra was disappointed that he felt the need to apologize for something that had been stimulating and comforting for her. “Oh, so the pill was responsible for all of your behavior? I quite liked some of it.”
He pressed the clean towel to her throat, but she detected a hint of sheepishness. “I suppose I should ask you what this horrible, debauched reprobate did to you last night. I’m sorry I don’t recall a thing—not like that’s any excuse. I just had a vague feeling I had done something…untoward.” In the mirror she could see him looking down at her, as though he’d like nothing more than to gather her in his arms and hump her—again—up against the sink. His nostrils flared as though her scent was turning him on.
Xandra backed up a few inches, just to feel the warmth of his torso against her back again. “Untoward maybe. But if I had protested, you would’ve known it.”
He finished patting her neck with the dry towel, but didn’t seem to want to lower it. She could feel his breath against the crown of her head. “I woke up buck naked with you in my arms. Not one memory of what I’d done.”
Xandra was disappointed he had no memories. “See? Who knows. Maybe it was I who was untoward to you. Did that occur to you? I could’ve seduced you.”
“Yes. But I doubt it.”
“Why do you doubt that?”
Nathan sighed. “Because I know myself. I even know my sleepwalking, drugged self. It was me. I take full responsibility for having offended you.” He finally lowered the towel, but it only hovered over her breasts, making them tingle.
“You didn’t offend me, Nathan.” Xandra wanted to turn and face him, but she liked looking at him in the mirror. So she allowed her head to loll back against that well-built chest. With half-closed eyes, she breathed in his scent. It wasn’t an unusual feeling, the grip of his gun pressing into her shoulder blade. Javier had often gone about armed, too. “It was a delightful surprise. A hot, naked man in my bed? It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed that.”
With no warning whatsoever, Nathan’s torso was yanked to an upright position, an arm cinched around his neck. He knew it was Julian before Julian snarled into his ear, “That’s right, you lewd and lascivious fucker. Jump the girl when I’ve got my back turned.”
“Your back wasn’t turned, douche bag,” Nathan retorted, mostly pissed that he’d been yanked away from his ministrations to Xandra’s pussy. Down below him, she writhed, clearly missing the stimulation of his hand, too. He just hoped he’d been allowed to mostly complete the task. She had already twitched and jumped far longer than any woman he’d ever made come. Maybe that Javier asshat had not administered to her carnal needs on top of everything else he’d done. But the vibrator Nathan had seen in her nightstand could have somewhat made up for that…
Nathan didn’t protest too much when Julian jerked his hands around to the back of his neck. He’d had this done to him many times, and he’d handcuffed others many more times. But only a few times in the spirit of play.
He felt the cold steel of the cuffs as Julian snapped them shut. These were not Xandra’s fluffy leopard skin cuffs, that was for sure. These were Julian’s government-issued set that he usually kept in a duty belt holster. Nathan was surprised at a pang of jealousy as he wondered, Has Julian used these on other playmates of his?
Julian slid one hand down the buttons of Nathan’s jeans, grabbing a handful of his stiff dick. “You knew I was sleeping, you rat bastard. You had to go and claim the beautiful Xandra for yourself.”
Nathan made no move to resist. He only jiggled his ass against Julian’s crotch as the ranger kneeled behind him on the couch. Julian dry-humped him like a dog while his other hand unbuttoned Nathan’s jeans. Through the brown cotton fabric of Julian’s pants Nathan could easily feel the shape of his long dick as he rubbed it into Nathan’s ass crack. “If you were awake, you’d know she submitted easily to me.” Nathan looked down at Xandra, pleased and aroused even further to find her all alert, like an adorable chipmunk, watching the antics of the two men.
She had said she didn’t want to come between him and the Navajo bastard. Now it appeared more likely that she wanted to watch him and the Indian warden. Going at it. Hard.
She even massaged her own tit as Nathan helplessly watched, her eyes shimmering as though hit with a handful of stars. Not only was she not repulsed by viewing two men touching—she was fired up.
Now her eyes eagerly took in the sight of Nathan’s well-hung cock as Julian freed it. Julian shoved his jeans down around his knees as he impatiently clutched his prick in his fist. “Xandra,” Julian said in an authoritative tone, his chin resting on Nathan’s naked shoulder. His free hand ran up Nathan’s abdomen as he kneeled there helplessly, admiring the ridged muscles that encased his ribs. “You like what you see? This delicious horse cock is hard, throbbing, eager to come for you.”
“Oh, yes,” Xandra agreed. She slid a hand up Nathan’s thigh to fondle his balls. He hissed in air, her touch light but paining him in his sensitivity. “He’s got a beautiful horse cock. He’s beautiful, Julian. He’s just rippling with muscles and…” She giggled. “Semen.”
Julian, apparently liking this depiction of his lover, refused to let go his grip on Nathan’s dick. “I think this callous stud needs to be taught a lesson or two.”
Xandra’s other hand tickled Nathan’s cockhead until he felt a dribble of jism seep from the slit. Like a kid at a candy factory, she smeared the drip around until he twitched and gasped. It was heavenly to be helpless like this with two people he trusted. In anticipation of the punishment to come, every square inch of his skin had become so sensitive that Julian’s breath against his shoulder had him about to shoot.
“Sinfully delicious,” Xandra purred warmly. She scooted up against the couch arm until her shining eyes were at eye level with Nathan’s drooling prick. Her bare, bouncing tits only elongated Nathan’s penis, and he felt another drip of seed slide from the tip. “What punishment do you have in mind…Sergeant Longtree?”
Reaching around the back of Xandra’s head, Julian urged her mouth toward his prick. “Suck him, dear. But not too well. Don’t let him come, though I can tell he’s dying to.”
Xandra sank the cock down her throat so eagerly Julian had to grab a handful of her hair and pull her back. Nathan whimpered and a shudder cascaded down his inner thighs. How did Julian know this would be the ideal torture for such a selfish asshole as Nathan was?
Surprising herself, her hand reached out to grab a leftover tortilla that had been stuffed with salmon her cook had baked earlier the day before. She flung this instead of the butter, salmon being plentiful. It smacked against one of the mirrors behind the bar, exploding into a hundred bright orange pieces.
It didn’t make her feel any better, though, and she tipped the aguardiente bottle into her mouth once more. She choked and the spicy brandy went into her nostrils when someone who had apparently been lying down behind the bar suddenly stood up. He brushed himself off and said with amusement, “I hope I’m never on the receiving end of your vitriolic bile. Although I daresay that fellow deserved it, what with sticking his miniscule penis into every pox-riddled hooker in California.”
Setting down the bottle, Tallulah wiped her nose off with the back of her hand. “How dare you?” she sputtered. “You were hiding behind the bar this entire time, listening to my private conversations?”
“My dear spitfire,” the fellow said calmly, “I could hardly have avoided your private conversations. I think everyone attempting to sleep under the roof of the Blue Wing Inn was privy to your private conversations.”
Tallulah snorted heatedly, swiping at a glass in which to pour the aguardiente. “Who are you? Hiding behind my bar? What did you do, fall asleep back there from drinking too much forty-rod?”
“Schiedam,” the jackass corrected her, coming forward.
Now that she really looked at him, she saw that he was annoyingly handsome. Even with a piece of baked salmon clinging to the locks of his long pigtail, he had an air of authority and superiority, and the iciest arctic blue eyes she had ever seen. “Right. You were the one who kept ordering schiedam. A very strong Dutch liquor. Only men who intend on getting roostered order that.”
“Well,” he admitted, “that was the intention. There’s not much reason here in this heartless hinterland to remain sober, now, is there? Nothing but an endless parade of bad news and tragedy.”
Tallulah had to agree with that. “Yes. I was so ignorant to imagine that because women are scarce out here I could manage to find the one man capable of faithfulness.” She sipped the liquor and exhaled acrid anger. “Bastard!”
“Men will be unfaithful no matter how beautiful, loving, and attentive their woman is.”
“Well…” The fellow paused, thoughtfully staring at the filthy floor. Lamplight flickered in his icy eyes, warming them. He was dressed in the manner of many of these backwoodsmen. Fringed shirt, a filthy rag as a turban around his head, a brace of pistols bouncing at his hips. His accent was floridly European, his hawk’s nose giving him an exotic air. Tallulah could tell from his form that under his leather shirt was an athletic, muscular chest. “Perhaps not all men. But almost all. Just about all, I’d venture to say.”
Tallulah steeled herself to loathe this man all over again. She snorted. “And I presume you’re one of the majority of cheating men.”
Again, he looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t really know. I haven’t been with a woman in five years.”
Tallulah was shocked out of her anger. That this man—quite beautiful, really—hadn’t been with a woman in five years could only mean one thing. He was a bumfucker, an aficionado of other men. That was a pity, although if he was one of those obsessed cheaters, perhaps it wasn’t such a loss. Tallulah saw all manner of those ganymedes out here in the lonely wastes of California. Some men wanted to avoid the pox-riddled dirt of the hog ranch. For some men, it was just handier to reach for the nearest cock. Men were lazy swine, after all. They accepted the nearest receptacle they could stick their johnsons into. But the few men who would turn down a willing woman, who were dead set upon the Greek life, were usually androgynous and liked to wear women’s drawers. This vigorous and stunning man hardly seemed the sort to put on earrings and prance about in petticoats. He might be a promiscuous toad, but Tallulah couldn’t imagine him drinking tea with his pinkie finger extended.
“You don’t seem very…very botanical to me. You seem like an ordinary backwoodsman. You’re one of those hotheaded Osos, aren’t you?”
“The Bears, yes. We intend to proclaim California an independent republic. Most Spaniards I know will be satisfied and pleased with that.”
“I believe you,” said Tallulah. “Most Spaniards don’t feel any great loyalty to the government in Mexico City. Now get out from behind my bar. I’m the one who’s supposed to be behind there.”
They switched places. Tallulah was appalled to find herself ogling his superbly rounded butt as they passed by each other at the end of the bar. Cradled between the leather leggings, the curvaceous globes swayed impudently, and her mind went nearly blank with admiration. Then it occurred to her. What am I doing? I just tossed over one chiseling jackass because he dipped his wick with other women. Already I’m ogling the beautifully molded ass of a confessed bumfucker? Tallulah, get your brain out of the back alley. He doesn’t want you. He’ll never want you.
“Tillie, is it?” the fellow asked saucily. “I do hope you weren’t terribly dead set on that cheating guy.”
Well, one thing could be said for ganymedes. A girl could certainly talk to them and feel relaxed and comfortable. But when this fellow angled his hip against the bar and crossed his ankles as he leaned, the delicious bulge of a slug-like cock was revealed, nestled in his crotch. Out here men just wore thin pantaloons under their leggings, and even in the dim lamplight Tallulah could see the outline of his prick’s crown. She struggled to avert her eyes, and poured more aguardiente for both of them. “Not terribly. But he was the most dashing fellow among this crowd of ruffians and loafers. You’ve been in California long? Then you know that Californio men are so lazy all they want to do is drink, gamble, and lasso animals. Sam was a step above that. He ran a good cattle operation. I did admire him.”
“I run a good farming operation up the Sacramento River.” Tallulah had no idea why this man would be trying to impress her. What was the point? “Acres of citrus trees, several thousand head of longhorn. There’s no time to be lazy. But I know what you mean. I employ Diggers to labor for me.”
“And what is your name? Might I have heard of your farm?”
“Ah,” he said and held out his hand for Tallulah to grasp. “I’m sorry. Milo Stephens. You may have gotten some grapefruits or oranges from my farm, Virgin Groves.”
Tallulah even smiled, amused. “Virgin? My. It’s been years since I’ve been able to say that.”
Milo said lewdly, “You haven’t done a very good job soothing poor Reynaldo. He’s a big man. He has big needs.” He smacked her ass again, the greasy crack resounding in the tiled room. She gasped and jumped but made no move to squirm away. Milo wrapped his fingers around Tallulah’s wrist and guided it to Reynaldo’s pulsating dick. “Feel this big cock? Reynaldo is a virile buck. A deviant buck, just bursting with seed. Isn’t he stunningly handsome? It’s your duty to pleasure him.” Smack. “You’re just a submissive chambermaid, and this soldier’s needs are big.” Smack.
Every time Milo would spank her bare rump, Tallulah would jump and gasp, but never did she recoil. Now she squirmed in pretend protest, probably knowing that wagging her ass like that only made it a more attractive target. She whined, “Oh, no! However will I satisfy such an enormous penis?” Her false innocence was betrayed by the fact that she was expertly frigging Reynaldo’s hefty prick, even corkscrewing her fist around it as though churning butter.
When Milo spanked her rump and allowed his fingertips to stray over her vulva, he wasn’t surprised to find she was slick with her own juice. Tallulah was a lusty wench, just made to be fucked. She didn’t need that jackass husband who had boned every broken-down slut on the prairie, every squaw who hadn’t bathed in weeks. Marrying him had obviously been a youthful mistake, perhaps arranged by her parents. No, Tallulah Crabtree was a spectacular spitfire of a woman who deserved not one but two faithful men who were constantly attentive to her—to ensure it was she who didn’t stray.
He slithered his fingers against her spongy outer lips, only briefly tantalizing her by tickling the length of her clitoris with his index finger. “Oh!” she cried in a strangled tone, but Milo withdrew his fingers to slap her haunch again. He had different plans for this sloe-eyed siren.
“You ask however will you please Corporal Vargas? Vargas, sit on that stool.” Just roughly enough to take Tallulah by surprise, he shoved her between the shoulder blades. She stumbled to her knees, breaking her fall by slapping one palm against the tiles, the other against Reynaldo’s leather-clad thigh. Milo kneeled behind her. Yanking down her camisa to allow her full breasts to bob freely, he cupped them in his greasy paws, taking great pleasure in squeezing them so the erect nipples popped from between his fingers.
He humped her from behind, his pulsing erection sliding the length of her slippery muff. Because she arched her back submissively, it would have been easy to penetrate her fully. But Milo wanted to tease her, so he allowed his cockhead to nudge only a half-inch inside the hot, slick canal, withdrawing it again to hump her labia without penetration.
And, if the truth was known, he wanted to wait. Although he freely acknowledged he was a brutal pendejo, he wished to handle this sensitive, injured woman in a delicate manner.
Milo reached around and encircled Reynaldo’s penis in his fist. He could feel the vein throb as he rubbed his thumb there, and wished he could spear it down his throat himself. He murmured in Tallulah’s ear. “How do you think you can please the corporal, my sweet?” He held her jaw between his fingers and spoke against her mouth. “You have a very pleasing…full…big mouth.”
A slow smile spread over the vixen’s face, but she still squiggled her hips, trying to capture Milo’s prick between her thighs. “Oh, my,” she said innocently. “Do you think I can take such a big member into my mouth?”
“We shall see,” Milo seethed, “won’t we?” And he shoved her again between the shoulder blades so she had no choice but to gulp Reynaldo’s long fat prick down her throat.
Reynaldo groaned, and the woman initially gulped and snuffled, probably surprised by the length and the cockhead jammed up against her tonsils. But Milo held the back of her skull in his palm, urging her to relax her muscles around the heft of Reynaldo’s prick, and soon she breathed normally, even eagerly gulped.
In fact, a twinge of jealousy fluttered in Milo’s stomach when Tallulah grabbed ahold of Reynaldo’s hips, putting her all into her sucking. Pleasant memories of being in Reynaldo’s position—was that only yesterday?—in the barracks with his cock lodged down Tallulah’s throat flooded back to him. Recalling how talented she was with her tongue describing exotic patterns against his cock while expertly suctioning him, Milo knew Reynaldo wouldn’t last long.
“Hey,” Milo barked, to get her attention. She didn’t miss a beat in her cocksucking. “Hey. Hey! You don’t need to be so…so enthusiastic about it.” He spanked her ass again for different reasons now.