Tallulah frowned, too. “Of course not! I am your obedient servant, just as you are mine, and I will never doubt you.”
He went back to smiling. “I really do have to go. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t terribly romantic. But I’m going to have a lot of explanations to make once word gets out that Carson raised the topknots of those three Californios—”
Someone tried to barge in the heavy door then, but since it was barred, he only crashed painfully against the wooden slab. “Ow!” the fellow cried.
Tallulah and Milo shared quizzical looks. “Reynaldo?” she asked.
“Sounds like it.” Milo unbarred the door, and Reynaldo fell into the room. Milo had to catch him and prop him up. “What’s up? You could use the front door, too, you know.”
“It’s the three Berryessa brothers,” panted Reynaldo, fairly dripping with sweat as though he’d run a mile. Then it seemed to register that Milo and Tallulah were engaged in an intimate conversation, for an embarrassed smile spread over his handsome face. “Milo! Old man! Did you ask her?” He grabbed Tallulah’s hand to look at the ring. She was both embarrassed and proud that Milo had discussed it beforehand with his partner. “And what did you say, you sultry wench?”
Milo shook his partner’s shoulder. “She said yes, of course! What do you think, you blockhead? Now listen. What about the Berryessa brothers?”
“Wait!” cried Tallulah, rattling Milo by the arm. “More importantly, what about Reynaldo? I will not see you give him up just for me. I won’t demand it or require it!”
The two men looked at her blankly. They looked at each other, then back at her. “Well,” Milo said at last. “That’s good. Because I wasn’t planning to give up Reynaldo.”
“Oh!” Tallulah giggled with relief. She held her hand to her breast. “Thank god.”
“No!” Reynaldo agreed brightly. “Why should he? A legal marriage is a piece of paper. This is a growing, changing, brand-new republic. Haven’t you seen plenty of unusual arrangements since coming to California? Look, señorita. There is no question about our loyalty and faithfulness. You trust us not to stray, don’t you?”
“Well,” Tallulah said cautiously. “With other women, perhaps. But I don’t know if I trust the two of you in the same room without me.”
Milo chuckled. “Well, I agree. I can see how you’d feel that way. I don’t trust myself with this fellow either.”
New running boots sounded in the courtyard, and soon a panting Origin appeared, clinging to the doorjamb as though he had run a mile. Only, knowing Origin, he was probably winded after running a few yards from the plaza.
“By Jove! There you are, Alcalde Stephens!”
“Mayor!” Reynaldo corrected him.
Origin saluted. “Mayor!”
Tallulah cried, “You don’t salute a mayor, Origin.”
“At ease,” Milo told him. “What’s up?”
Origin said, “Those three Berryessas found Terrell walking around in their father’s serape. Terrell denied it belonged to the senior but offered to sell it to them for twenty-five dollars.”
Tallulah cried, “Twenty-five? That’s highway robbery!”
“Yes,” said Milo. “Especially since Terrell stole it from the corpse of their dead father.”
Origin added, “Jasper O’Farrell is already spreading it all over town it was Kit Carson who killed those Californios. Kit’s raring to get his hide out of town.”
“Understandable.” Milo took Tallulah’s hand and made as if to stroll casually into the courtyard, but in his eagerness he wound up breaking into a jog past the gates.
“It’s okay!” Tallulah told him. “Go see Frémont. Figure out your business.”
“But I don’t want to leave you.”
“I need to see to my bodega. It sounds as though they’re breaking up the furniture in there.”
“Crikey!” squealed Origin, pointing past the flagpole. “The fur’s flying now!”
Indeed, an enormous snarling knot of men needed sorting out in front of Leese’s house. Tallulah could see Frémont’s red sash and epaulets flashing, and a few bottles flew through the air.
“You be careful, Mayor,” said Tallulah, briefly kissing Milo on the cheek. She took Origin by the hand now—as though he needed any encouraging to be steered away from the melee.
“You’re getting wed!” Origin said with alacrity.
“Does everyone know?”
“I believe so,” said Origin, pausing before the blue bodega door to gather his wits before diving in. “Long live California!” He took a deep breath and plunged in.
He didn’t get very far before someone brained him with what looked like her last remaining spittoon. Origin went down, cold as a wagon tire, and Tallulah lifted her skirts to withdraw her derringer from her garter.
This town was beyond exasperating! The dust, the toil, the gossip, the brainings—this was the way of life in Sonoma. And Tallulah wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue
Sonoma
October 1846
“I want to pleasure you,” Reynaldo whispered, his breath feathering Milo’s ear.
Instantly, Milo tossed his pen into the inkwell. These goddamned diseños could wait a little. There were hundreds of these rancho maps that needed to be defined or surveyed to verify the claimants to them. Most were legitimate, but some shysters had been running around claiming ownership of Californio ranchos when they themselves were in Germany or Russia when the land was first granted by Mexico City. All it took was a few lying neighbors to claim that yes, Hans Ivanov had been known to farm that land, and immediately, Hans Ivanov was the owner. Milo wanted to allow legitimate Californios to keep their land, so it was a stew of the first order, and Milo was glad to take a break from it.
Besides, being pleasured was a new joy in life. Milo was increasingly indulging in it. It took some self-control to lie back and not dominate the proceedings, and he practiced this now, leaning back in his desk chair into his partner’s athletic embrace. Lifting his arms over his head, he cradled Reynaldo’s face to his neck, reveling in the shivers that stiffened his nipples when Reynaldo sucked on his neck.
“Mi amor,” Reynaldo murmured, deftly unknotting the necktie that was puffed up around Milo’s neck. Today Milo even wore a waistcoat, as he was supposed to strike for Casa Grande and go over some of these diseños with Vallejo shortly. But it was much more pleasant being stripped by Reynaldo, whose deft fingers soon had Milo shirtless, his clothing in a puddle on the study floor. “You’re a powerful stud,” Reynaldo whispered between sucking kisses to his shoulder. “I haven’t told you enough how overwhelmed I am to have you in my life.”
As Reynaldo was standing behind him, it was natural for Milo to pull his lover’s head to him and kiss him fully on the mouth. Their tongues tangled as they licked each other in the vigorous, lusty way of men. Today Reynaldo emanated the scent of warm grapevines, as he’d been out there harvesting with Origin and some Californios. He often smelled of wheat or cook fires, as he spent the majority of his time now out surveying land for these diseños and sometimes was away days at a time.
All the more reason for Milo to clutch the former soldier to him and not let him go. Reynaldo’s stiff prick prodded Milo’s chest as Milo twisted around in his chair, and he instinctively reached to fondle the ridge of the erection. He palmed the entire bulging dick as he lapped at the underside of Reynaldo’s tongue, tart from eating grapes fresh off the vine.
It was his customary role in a sexual partnership to take control, to tease, seduce, and pleasure the other. That was how Milo took his own pleasure, in the ecstasy of others. He was still getting used to being submissive. It was not an easy position for him, and he often found himself fighting Reynaldo for dominance, both men bucking to be the one in the saddle, so to speak. Milo did this now, squeezing and fondling the prick in his hand, sweeping his palm down to caress the full balls as he plunged his tongue deeper down Reynaldo’s throat.
Rey
naldo, however, seemed to have different plans. Before Milo even had a chance to protest, Reynaldo had broken the kiss and was knotting Milo’s neckerchief between his wrists. Reynaldo’s fingers flashed, intent on their work. As a vaquero, Milo tied the fastest and most snug knots, but Reynaldo was quickly learning, too. It irritated and aroused Milo at the same time to be thwarted like this—to be literally tied up, helpless, unable to control the proceedings.
“Pendejo.” He sincerely struggled against his bonds. The necktie was silk, but Reynaldo had done such a good job. Reynaldo made a round turn after the half hitch, ensuring Milo couldn’t release it. He had learned from Milo, so Milo couldn’t complain, but like hell, it was frustrating to be so exposed and powerless! He fought against his bonds and brought both bound hands up to Reynaldo’s waist—at least he could unbutton the trousers and release the throbbing erection.
He was relieved when Reynaldo allowed him to suckle the long, thick cock for a minute. He tongued the velvety glans hungrily, comfortable in this role, giving gratification to the man he loved. In fact, since his August wedding to Señorita Crabtree, Milo had been much better at allowing Reynaldo to pleasure their wife than he was at allowing Reynaldo to please him. He enjoyed bumfucking the lusty surveyor as Reynaldo licked Tallulah’s pussy, but it was difficult for Milo to relax—to lie back, to allow bliss to wash over him. Milo was just born a domineering bastard, and he would always fight Reynaldo for control.
So he now suckled like a calf at the teat, snorting in vexation because his bound hands were so limiting. He could only grip the prick by the trunk, running his thumb along the underside, massaging that throbbing channel with the slickness from his spittle.
“Ah,” sighed Reynaldo, thrusting his hips forward to plunge his cock down Milo’s throat. “Tu maldito desgraciado. You do that so well, mi amor. God, you’re a good cocksucker. Ah!”
Milo was proud when he made a particularly powerful gulp, causing the cock to surge and gush a tiny spurt of seed against the back of his tongue. I’ve got him now. My hands may be bound, but he’s not going to make me stop.
“You cocksucker!” This time Reynaldo’s tone wasn’t approving, and he put his palm against Milo’s forehead to shove him violently away. Milo looked up in shock to find Reynaldo’s eyes flashing with ire, although his raging purplish erection spoke otherwise. “I told you I wanted to pleasure you, pendejo! Why do you insist on dominating everything, even when your hands are bound?”
Milo grinned devilishly. “Because I like to?” he suggested mildly.
“Oh!” It was Reynaldo’s turn to seethe with frustration. He grabbed a handful of the necktie that constricted Milo’s wrists together, yanking him to his feet.
Milo came willingly, all his senses afire at what might happen next. Reynaldo spun him about. Milo automatically propped his bound palms against the desktop to break his fall. Of course he didn’t wear his gun belt inside the study of his new hacienda. It was simple for Reynaldo to peel his trousers and bare his ass, spanking him so loudly the crack resounded against all four walls.
Delight surged through Milo. He had grown to relish being punished at the hands of his lover. He spread his thighs to allow Reynaldo better access to his asshole and balls. He eyed the butter on the sideboard, hoping Reynaldo would smear his ass with it to enhance the smacking sensation. He whimpered in frustration when Reynaldo only spanked him several more times, then spun him to face him.
“You damned pendejo,” Reynaldo snarled. “All the time you’re directing and ruling the proceedings. Even when I spank you, you’re still in control because it’s what you want, isn’t that right?”
Milo had to smile crookedly, because Reynaldo was right.
Now the surveyor pressed the entire length of his body to Milo, forcing him to bend backward over the desk. Their naked, erect cocks were squeezed together, Reynaldo’s pelvis glued to his. Reynaldo yanked the neckerchief till Milo’s wrists were held high above his head, but even helpless like this, they both knew Milo exerted supremacy. That was just the way things were.
“Bastard,” growled Reynaldo. “You have to learn in this marriage. To get along with me you need to learn to relax.” He angrily rattled Milo’s bound hands above their heads. “You need to take a break and learn to accept pleasure. I want to pleasure you.”
Oddly, Milo did relax a bit then. He ceased to struggle against Reynaldo as violently. He knew Reynaldo wasn’t joking.
Especially when Reynaldo pressed him back flat against the desk, the pen he’d been writing with jabbing in his bare shoulder blade. Spreading Milo’s thighs wide with his own, Milo was certain the soldier was going to defile him on top of his own desk, his thighs spread wide like a woman’s.
This was fine by Milo, and he toed off one boot and trouser leg to free up his feet. He knew he was pressed back against the wet ink of some correspondence—he might even have “Your Obedient Servant” written backward on his shoulder when Reynaldo was done ravishing him.
So he hitched one bare foot against the desk’s edge, the better to show his submission. He could lift his torso a couple of inches off the surface, off the papers and what he suspected was a metal protractor stuck in his ass, and see Reynaldo. Primal, superior, imperious. Reynaldo’s jutting cock pulsated in the air, and Milo’s prick quivered as he anticipated that tool sliding into his anus.
“Get the butter,” Milo commanded, as always.
Reynaldo’s puzzled look appeared to be genuine. “Why?” he asked, before falling to his knees between Milo’s thighs.
Reynaldo ravished him, all right. He sank Milo’s cock down his throat with such a sudden gulp that Milo cried out, his hips shuddering, his ass elevated off the desk. He was powerless to buck this debauched barbarian off his prick, and within seconds he was on the verge of spending.
He had never allowed Reynaldo to suck him before. Coming in another man’s mouth was a sign of weakness, of allowing one’s orgasm to rule one’s life. If the orgasm ruled, if one was led around by the nose by one’s own orgasm, then what was the point of pretending to be either dominant or submissive? It was that final squirting and spending that truly governed, not any of the play that came beforehand.
“Ah!” he cried out at the sensation of a hot, gulping masculine mouth swallowing his dick so thoroughly the lips met his pubic bone. How can this be? I can’t allow this to happen.
He was lucky that his study door banged open then. Milo raised his torso and craned his head with mild curiosity. He was never embarrassed to be seen in flagrante delicto. But this proved to be an exception.
* * * *
Tallulah Stefanski opened her husband’s study door with her butt.
She held a bowl of apples from Mayor Stefanski’s grove, and she wanted him to try one. This week they were much sweeter than last week. He’d bought the grove from Don Victor Prudhon, of course—they couldn’t plant new fruit trees until next February. She dropped the bowl to the floor at the sight that greeted her.
Her two men rutting wouldn’t have shocked her. What stunned Tallulah was the sight of the defenseless mayor flat on his back on his desk, nearly nude, his thighs splayed wide. With one foot balancing him on the edge of the desk, he pumped his hips wildly, the better for Reynaldo, kneeling on the floor, to guzzle his fat cock down his throat. With his bound hands flung against the desk over his head, the magnetic and fearsome Milosz Stefanski had finally been subdued.
She knew her husband was a beast, but this beat all! She could testify to all manner of animalistic behavior in these two men. But she had never…ever…seen her beloved husband allow Reynaldo to take him in that manner. How glorious he looked with his shoulder-length hair all spread out behind him, his knotted wrists up over his head!
Tallulah didn’t pause to gather the rolling apples. In her haste, she even stepped on one and nearly went flying into the wall. But she only missed a half a beat, closing the distance between the door and the desk in three long strides.
She flung her
self down next to Milo, sweeping all his papers, half-eaten fruit, writing instruments, and surveying tools aside with her forearm. Pressing her chest to his naked one, she whispered, “Dearest…just relax…let yourself be pleasured…allow Reynaldo to satisfy you with his mouth.”
But she made an error in bringing Milo’s attention to it. If she would have just kept quiet, shut up, faded into the wallpaper! By talking, she had drawn Milo’s attention to the fact that his lover sat between his thighs eagerly guzzling his dick. That was her mistake. And her deviant, sensual husband made her pay dearly for it.
“I will not!” Wrenching himself to his feet, Milo knocked Reynaldo to his ass. Before Tallulah could absorb the situation, Milo had succeeded with his tied hands in grasping her wrist and pinning her with his body against the desk. His beautiful aqua eyes glittered, and Tallulah knew his ire was all part of his sexual act, the way her willful and domineering husband enjoyed toying with her. “I’m hot and randy for my wife,” he explained, a bit more patiently now.
Tallulah could feel her face and chest flush with blood. She leaned back so her bosom was proffered to this beast of a man, and she took the liberty of inching her Californio skirts above her knees. He always made her feel so coquettish, so womanly. Although she was disappointed she wouldn’t get to watch Reynaldo bring him off with his mouth, the press of Milo’s nude, athletic body already had juice trickling down her inner thigh.
She wrapped her fingers around his exquisitely hot prick. Hopping her ass onto the desk, she spread her thighs for her husband.
“I’ll be careful,” he promised with shining eyes as he slid into her.
He embraced her with his bound hands, circling both wrists over her head, bringing them down behind her back. She didn’t think he needed to be so careful of the baby growing inside of her. Would babies break if a well-hung man got a bit carried away and pounded her a bit too hard? Tallulah had a feeling they were a lot more resilient than that, but she let Milo withhold his passion a bit for little Delfina’s sake. That was the name they’d chosen if it was a girl. That was Milo’s mother’s name, back in New York.
The Obedient Servant [Going for the Gold 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 17