Lord, no. Not again.
She recognized the woman’s voice. Although the last time she’d heard it, Sarah Michelson had been cursing a filthy blue streak. And no wonder after what the two of them had done to her.
Yet, she was here again. Did that mean…?
Amy sucked in a deep breath. No, she wasn’t going to peek. The last time had been devastating. She’d been in this same exact spot, at approximately the same time, when she’d trained her telescope on that special room of his with the window facing this very field.
Oh, the things she’d seen!
Her cheeks had burned for days. Her body had felt tight, hot, so filled with sexual frustration she’d fished out the vibrator her sister had given her one Christmas from its box underneath the bathroom sink.
For several nights afterward, she’d lain in her bed, rolling the smooth gel head over her sex, plunging it deep into her core, trying to satisfy the cravings the trio had awakened.
Light spilled across the clearing, shining from the naughty room, bleaching the dried grass a pale gray.
Amy stood in the darkness, just beyond the light, staring at the ground. I’m not going to watch. I’m not going to…
She closed her eyes briefly, calling for inner fortitude, and then lifted her tripod to reposition it, pointing it toward the room.
She adjusted the focus, zooming in on a patch of pink skin. A protruding nipple. Oh.My.God. An aroused nipple surrounded by a very round and generous breast.
A dark figure stepped in the way, blocking her view.
Her head jerked up, and she stared into the window. Logan Ross leaned against the window frame. His features, burnished by the subtle lighting in the room, were drawn and taut—and he was staring directly at her!
She whirled and pressed a hand against her chest. He knew! Sweet Jesus, what did he think of her now?
Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder, pretending to reach for her bag, and then caught his gaze again. He straightened, moving away from the window.
He strode toward Sarah, lifting her hand and bringing her forward to place her in front of the window, but not so close that Amy couldn’t see most of her shape, head to knees.
Slowly, he peeled away the blonde’s clothing while Joe Garcia took a seat at a small wooden table and watched, his gaze never leaving Sarah’s pretty body as it was bared one garment at a time.
When she was completely naked, Logan lifted her hand and twirled her under his arm as though dancing her around in slow motion, and Amy understood.
He was letting her watch them. Inviting her to do so.
Amy swallowed, her eyes filling as the painful yearning swamped her again. Everything missing from her staid little life was there on display.
But why was he doing this? As punishment for intruding on their games? Or was he trying to tempt her? Her, plain Amy Keating?
While both possibilities struck a chord of fear inside her, still she couldn’t drag herself away as Logan led Sarah to a wooden frame she hadn’t seen in the room the last time she’d spied on the three of them.
Made of gleaming wood and shaped like an “X”, there were shackles, leather bindings with metal buckles, attached to each arm.
Sarah meekly stepped up to the frame, leaning her back against it, and lifted her arms for him to place the straps around one wrist then the other and lock her into place.
Then Sarah widened her stance, her legs settling against the lower half of the wooden beams, and her ankles were restrained.
Next, Logan carried a black hood to Sarah, which he pulled over her head, completely concealing her face. He tucked her long white-blonde hair beneath it, and only the curves Amy already knew so well identified the woman as Sarah.
Joe rose from his chair to join Logan. Both men ran their hands over Sarah’s body, smoothing broad palms from her shoulders to her feet.
Sarah’s chest rose and fell more sharply. Her skin flushed with heat that spread like warm butter over skin.
Joe bent and captured one of Sarah’s nipples, cupping her breast and holding it, squeezing it while he tugged and lashed his tongue at her dimpled areola.
Logan strode to the opposite side of the room, disappearing from her view. Amy waited anxiously for him to return, afraid for a moment that he might be coming outside to confront her, but then he returned, holding one of his short whips. He flicked the tail in the air.
Sarah jerked at the sound, her head turning to follow it as he flicked it again.
Amy began to sweat, imagining what it must be like to feel the lash he used to stripe the woman’s flesh.
Each stroke caused Sarah’s hands to tighten above the restraints, her back to bow.
Amy wished she could hear. Wished she knew whether the woman suffered or was enthralled.
Nothing in Amy’s experience could fill the lack of sound. She didn’t know what the crack of the leather flanges would sound like landing on flesh. Didn’t know what the men’s voices would sound like—harsh and commanding, tight with sexual excitement, or low murmurs intended to sooth a woman’s fears?
When Logan turned the short whip upside down and skimmed the handle up the woman’s thigh, Amy’s breath caught.
It disappeared inside the woman’ body as his arm stroked up and down, fucking her with it.
Her own body spilled fluid onto the crotch of her cotton panties. But the sight was too distant for her to know if the woman enjoyed it quite as much as she did. Amy trained the telescope again on the window and adjusted the focus, bending to the eyepiece and skimming her gaze along Sarah’s voluptuous body until she found the thatch of blonde hair.
The men had been careful to leave her a clear view of the woman’s pussy and of the large hand gripping the handle as it was pushed up and down between Sarah Michelson’s legs.
The other woman’s thighs gleamed with moisture; her folds were red and swollen. Oh, she enjoyed it all right. Her body vibrated with her pleasure. Her thighs strained wider to allow Logan to continue to fuck her.
Logan pulled the handle from her vagina while Joe unbuckled the restraints.
Sarah sagged against Joe’s chest, but he held her away. Then the men walked her to the window, forcing her head down, and she raised her hands to hold the bottom of the windowsill so that her body was bent, her breasts swaying.
Then the Logan gripped the wet handle, raised it high and struck her buttocks.
Sarah’s head dropped lower, her knuckles whitening against the casing she clutched hard. However, she did nothing to avoid the blows that followed in quick succession, aimed at different spots.
He paused, thrust a hand downward, and then lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.
Amy quivered at his expression. Dark, intense, his gaze rising to meet hers across the yard.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Joe tug his tee over his head and shove down his pants. He walked toward Logan and held out his hand for the whip, which Logan surrendered immediately, stepping back.
Joe brushed the flanges over Sarah’s trembling back and buttocks, and then dropped it. His hands clasped her cheeks and massaged them, lifting them up, then releasing them. His hand raised, and he slapped her with his open palm.
Amy followed the motion, watching as he delivered another blow to the other cheek, and then realized she’d lost sight of Logan again. She searched the room, her breath releasing when he stepped back into view, only to choke when she saw that he was nude.
His cock rose straight from his groin.
Joe glanced over at him then laughed
Logan’s expression was rueful, but he gripped his cock in one hand and stroked it, up and down. He stood to the side of Sarah, and Joe turned her to face Logan, still bent over.
Her hands reached in front of her, caught hold of Logan’s cock with one, cupped his balls with the other, and tugged him toward her face.
Joe reached around her, rolling up the bottom edge of the hood until her mouth was exposed.
; She licked her lips once then stuck out her tongue and wet the tip of Logan’s cock.
They were in perfect profile. Amy could see everything. Joe palming Sarah’s ass and thrusting his hips toward her, his cock disappearing, sliding into Sarah’s body. Sarah opening her mouth wide and swallowing Logan’s cock as he fucked her mouth, his gaze intent on Sarah’s motions as she licked and sucked then swallowed him again.
Then his head turned slowly, his gaze meeting Amy’s again, and Amy backed up against her folding table, grabbing the edge to steady herself.
This was all for her. Staged for her to see. Her gaze slid away from his, dropping to where Sarah greedily gobbled him up.
Impossibly, the other woman swallowed his length, her mouth stretching around his girth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, billowing as she drew off and breathed.
Her breasts and ass jiggled with the force of Joe’s strokes.
Amy met Logan’s gaze again, locking with his for a long moment, trying to read whatever message he was trying to send her over the distance.
Was he mocking her? He needn’t have gone to such extremes to make her feel unequal. She didn’t possess the feminine beauty of Sarah Michelson. He didn’t have to drive his cock like a stake through her heart to make that point.
Or was he telling her what she should expect, what he meant to do to her? As intimidating as this staged tableau was, more frightening to Amy was the thought that she’d eagerly let herself be used, to be mocked or pleasured, for the sheer orgasmic sensation of feeling Logan slide between her lips…and dear God, her legs.
Whatever he wanted, she would willingly give for just one night with Logan Ross.
Also by Delilah Devlin
Texas Cowboys Series
Wearing His Brand
The Cowboy and the Widow
Soldier Boy
Bound & Determined
Slow Rider
Night Watch
Slow Rider: Texas Cowboys #5 Page 9