The Heart of Falcon Ridge (The McLendon Family Saga, #1)

by D. L. Roan

  “I would have, too, if I hadn’t been dragging ol’ Biscuit behind me.” Grey threw his leg over the back of his horse and hopped to the ground. He reached up for Claira, holding her close as she slid along his body to the ground. He nipped her bottom lip between his teeth in a playful kiss and then lapped at the small bite with his tongue. “Ever been skinny dipping?”

  ~*~*~*~*~

  The morning sun slid beyond high noon and Mason thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Lying on his back, the sunlight glistened off the droplets of water that decorated Claira’s naked skin as she lay sprawled on top of him half asleep. Grey was stretched out beside them, tracing her spine with the tips of his fingers, his lips caressing her flank with sultry kisses.

  “Did you always want to be a teacher?” Mason asked her, hoping he’d finally get some semblance of information now that she couldn’t distract them with sex. Well, she could, but she’d have to stall for a few minutes while he and Grey caught their next wind. He planned to take full advantage of those precious few minutes.

  She tensed atop him and he stilled his fingers, waiting to see if she would tell them something, anything. They needed her, and that meant all of her. What could be so bad that answering even the most mundane of questions would make her so skittish?

  “No,” Claira finally mumbled.

  Grey glanced up at him when she didn’t offer more. “What did you want to be?” he asked, keeping to their plan to extract as much information from her as they could.

  She turned her head and looked over at Grey, laying her cheek over Mason’s heart. “A child psychologist.”

  Mason fought not to sigh in relief. Finally they were getting somewhere.

  “You said you went to college?” He rose up onto his elbows and kissed her forehead. “Where?”

  Claira blinked as she fished for an answer. “Back east.” That was the truth. You didn’t answer their question. It was so hard to switch off the lies. She needed to tell them. “Boston College,” she finally forced herself to say.

  Grey whistled. “That’s a pretty fancy school, baby. Is that where you’re from? Boston?”

  Claira shook her head and stared at the crisscross pattern on the picnic blanket. “No. I grew up in Maryland, or at least that’s where I called home before I came here.”

  She smiled at the memory of her and her brother playing in the attic of their grandmother’s country estate. Mrs. Abbot, the estate manager’s wife, would bring cookies and tea and play games with them. She wished they could have spent more time there, away from her father and Lucien.

  After their mother left, she and her brother were no longer allowed to visit. She disliked living in the city. She rarely saw their father, but Lucien was always there, lurking in the shadows, watching her. Always. She shivered at the memory of his cold, calculating stare. He was always there, watching and waiting. Waiting for her to ‘come of age’, as she’d heard her father say so many times.

  “So is that what you majored in?” Grey asked, bringing her palm to his lips and tickling it with the tip of his tongue.

  Claira sighed. The euphoria of their private afternoon had slipped away. She’d never finished her degree. She’d spent her last year of college running from her father, and then running from Lucien. By the time her father was arrested and the trial was over, so was her life. Her teaching degree wasn’t real—something the Feds had made up as part of her new identity—but at least she had it.

  “I...uh,” God she hated the path her thoughts had taken her after feeling so warm and relaxed in their arms. She wanted to hold on to that elusive feeling for a bit longer. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

  “Claira, we love you.” Grey pressed a finger to her lips when she began to protest. “I know it’s hard to think that way so soon, but we do. Baby, we need to know what’s going on, what or who you’re running from. We won’t judge you. We want to help you.”

  Claira tried to push herself up, but Mason’s arms constricted tighter around her naked back. When he didn’t say anything, only stared into her soul with those knowing eyes of his, she collapsed back against him and hid her face against his chest.

  “You’re right. There is something I need to tell you.” She reached out and ran her hand along Grey’s muscled forearm. “But not here. Not now. Can we please wait until Matt is back, so I only have to go through it once?”

  Grey considered her for a moment then glanced at his brother. “Fair enough,” he nodded and covered her hand with his own. “It’s hard to deny you when you chew on that bottom lip the way you do.”

  “Thanks, and I know,” she giggled, noticing the incredulous look on his face. “Ouch!”

  Mason squeezed the soft, perfect globe of her ass that he’d smacked. “Cheeky minx.”

  Claira squirmed in his grip, but he didn’t relinquish his hold. Grey reached into the picnic basket before rising to his knees behind her and she froze. What was he about to do? They didn’t keep her guessing long. Mason gripped her bare bottom and spread her cheeks. The look in Grey’s eyes stopped her heart.

  “While I am helplessly in love with your long, toned legs,” Mason said as he stared over her shoulder at Grey. “And Matt trips over his tongue at the very thought of sucking on one of your pebbled, little nipples. Grey has been dying to get his hands on your pretty ass.”

  Grey got his first look at her perfect, virgin ass and he concurred with his earlier thought. Q and A time was definitely over. The look of panic on her face made him pause for a moment and check his raging need.

  “Don’t be afraid, baby bird. I’d never hurt you.” Grey traced a path down her spine with the tip of his finger and his cock flexed at the goose bumps that followed the trail. “I want your ass,” he said with a smirk. “Mason tells me you come apart in his hands when he fucks you here with his fingers.”

  Claira gasped when his finger circled her tight bud, making her flinch and spasm against his touch. Did they tell each other everything? “I don’t think I’m ready for this.” She wanted him there, no doubt, but it also scared the hell out of her. He was so big!

  Mason turned her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “Relax, sweetheart. He’s just going to play a little; prepare you for tonight when we’ll all make love to you together.”

  Claira swallowed, hard, picturing all of them entwined together like they had been that morning. What did he mean, ‘all’? “All of you? I...how does that work?”

  Grey’s cock jumped again when her tight ring squeezed around the tip of his finger. His blood raced and sweat beaded along his spine at the thought of that kind of pressure milking his cock. He leaned over her, tracing the curve of her neck with his lips as he whispered in a gravelly growl, “Mason fucking your pussy. Matt sliding into that luscious mouth of yours while I slide into your tight, little ass, baby bird.”

  An agonizing groan escaped her throat when his finger breached her throbbing tissue. She sucked in a shuddering breath and then blew it out as he moved inside her. Mason tipped her head back to him and plunged them into another toe-curling kiss. She was on fire, writhing on top of him, the erotic picture Grey had described feeding her desire.

  “This may be a little cold.” Grey flipped the cap on the small bottle of lube and dropped a large dollop at the base of her spine, massaging it down and into her tight rosette. Chills wracked her bones when the pressure increased and she knew he’d added another finger. Her tongue dueled with Mason’s as he swallowed her moans, his fingertips digging into the flesh of her backside. His hips rolled beneath her as she pressed herself against his hard length. The fire Grey was creating spread to her legs and up to her breasts making her throb with need.

  Mason broke their kiss and cradled her head to his chest as Grey began to stretch her, scissoring his fingers back and forth. “Ohhh.” She couldn’t hold back the moan as her body began to tremble.

  “Hold on, baby.” Grey encouraged and then removed his fingers.

  “Oh God.” Clai
ra froze, pressing her forehead to Mason’s chest when something hard and much larger than his finger pressed at her back passage. She wasn’t ready for this. She couldn’t deny that she liked it when Mason had fingered her there before, but the thought of something bigger scared her. She wanted to try, but she didn’t think she could do it.

  “Shh, relax, sweetheart. It’s just a plug.” Mason soothed her. “It will stretch you so you can take us together more easily without us hurting you. Think about what that will feel like. All of our hands caressing you, our cocks filling you over and over, our hearts beating together for you, with you, while we love you and you love us.”

  Grey was glad Mason was so talkative because he couldn’t have forced anything more than a growl past his lips if his life depended on it. It had been so long since he’d felt his control stretched so thin. If he didn’t know he would hurt her if he took her now, he would be buried balls deep in her tight, clenching channel. He’d never been more jealous of a piece of silicone in his entire life.

  Thank God Matt had had the foresight to stock up on the various items they hadn’t had need of in so many years. For the first time in his life he was grateful that his brother’s ‘live by the seat of his pants’ attitude had taken a back seat and he’d done a little planning, and a little shopping.

  “Almost there,” Mason watched Grey over Claira’s luscious curves and felt the base of the plug slide against the tip of his finger as he held her open for Grey. She was amazing. Knowing they would all share themselves with her tonight, make her theirs forever, made his dick weep. Mason emulated her thrusts, his dick sliding between her slick folds, allowing his climax to take him as she moaned one final time when the plug seated itself deep inside her.

  “Ahhh, it burns. Oh... Oh God! Grey!” Claira throbbed around the plug, her inner muscles shuddering, sending her flying. She cried out against Mason’s chest as they rocked together in an exquisite rhythm and came together.

  “That’s it, baby. Feel how good it will be.” Grey wrapped a fist around his shaft and stroked, lost in the sound of her voice as his name exploded from her lips. Once, twice. That was all it took until his hot seed sizzled from his balls, through his cock and flowed out over the base of the plug, marking her ass as his. And his it would be before the day was done. God he couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucien paced the dark alley, the putrid smells of the city churning in the air, offending his senses. Meeting some piss-ant fuck in the sewers where his own shit flowed was beneath him, goddammit!

  You will pay for this, Gabriella. You will scream for mercy!

  A dark sedan pulled around the corner, steam from a nearby manhole swirling in its wake. Cut the lights you fucking idiot! On cue the alley was once again cast in darkness, the only light a faint hue from a flashing caution light at a nearby vacant intersection.

  The sedan rolled to a stop a few feet from his own. The back doors opened and four burly men who made his own hired guns look like kindergarten teachers piled out onto the street. No matter. It would be suicide if they so much as breathed in his direction. He was untouchable and planned to keep it that way.

  As the goons took their positions around the car, a fifth man emerged into the darkness, straightening his tie and dusting the kinks from his tailored tuxedo.

  Cock-sucking politicians. He was in the wrong business. Running smack and smuggling in whores from third world countries paid jack shit compared to the free money these lazy assholes in monkey suits pulled in.

  They always thought themselves superior to everyone, like their shit smelled of fucking roses. Still, they always came to him when they wanted something. Well, until recently they went to Gabriella’s father, Hector Morganti, but it was all his now and it was time to make a different kind of deal.

  He may be the one asking for a favor, but what the slimy bastard didn’t know was that Hector kept very detailed records of all his transactions, which he’d worked hard to keep the Feds from acquiring. Regardless of their roles in this little meeting, he would unquestionably be the one calling all the shots.

  “Lucien,” the slime bag greeted him with a cocky nod.

  “Senator.”

  “I understand that I have something you need. How fortunate for me.”

  Lucien relaxed when he saw the Senator’s cocky smirk. How fortunate, indeed. “So I’ve heard.” This man had no idea who he was dealing with.

  Lighting a cigarillo, Lucien tossed the match into the street and leaned one hip casually against the front fender of his own sedan.

  “Exactly how fortunate, Lucien?” The Senator asked. “I haven’t the time or the patience for games.”

  Lucien took a long draw and expelled the bitter-sweet snuff into the damp night air as he studied the Senator and his men. “Depends on what you have and if it’s worth making a deal for what I know you want most.”

  He held back a grin as he watched the Senator’s eye’s glaze over. Always refreshing to know some things never changed. He tilted his head and took in the Senator’s stance.

  “Blonde hair, blue eyes, about three, maybe three-foot-two to be exact?” Lucien purred as he sized up exactly how low the perv hung. Only a bastard would get off on fucking a kid. Little did the piece of shit know his desires were about to change.

  The Senator’s twisted libido didn’t let him down. “Our latest intel suggests southwest Montana; a hickhole by the name of Grassland. Once the trial concluded she fell off the radar and, as far as I know, no one is looking into it.”

  Lucien felt a tendril of adrenaline rush through his veins. This was it. He was close and he knew it. Gabriella would be on her knees begging him, fucking his cock with those sweet lips before the week was out.

  “I’ll expect the delivery by Sunday, Lucien. Not one day later. Understood?”

  Lost in his own lustful thoughts, it took a moment for Lucien to comprehend the good Senator’s words. “Oh, Senator. One more thing,” he said as the Senator turned back toward the open door of his Town Car.

  He closed the distance between them, ignoring the two goons that tensed and stepped toward him. “There will be no delivery, this weekend, or any other time, until I receive your usual deposit.”

  “Now listen here—”

  “Ah-ah, Senator. Now is the time for you to listen, not talk.” Lucien stepped closer until, even in the dark, he could see the whites of the man’s eyes as they widened in shock and anger. “As I was saying. There will be no delivery unless you count the copy of your...let’s call it a purchase history, shall we? I’ll have a copy hand delivered to you on Monday, so that you know that your account is up to date. Of course, if you have an extra fifty thousand lying around, I could round up something with an ethnic feel to him. We all know little blond boys cost more.”

  “You son of a bitch. You’ll pay for this.”

  “I highly doubt that, Senator Collins. Your desires run deep. I’m sure you and I will be doing a lot of business together, and I will be the only one collecting a fee.” Lucien turned on his heel toward his car but stopped and faced the Senator once again. “Of course, if your information leads me to what I seek, I might feel generous enough to give you that blonde trinket after all.”

  ~*~*~*~*~

  The ride back to the barn had been torturous if she had to describe it in one word. Between her wet panties and jeans chaffing her thighs, and the constant rocking of Biscuit’s saddle against her sensitive backside, Claira was a hot mess of conflicting sensations before the barn came into view.

  Her body temperature seemed to be stuck on inferno. Her breasts were heavy and swollen, the lacy bra she’d worn raking like talons against her sensitive nipples. Her muscles morphed between languid and tense, relaxed and then pulsing with need until she could feel another climax approaching.

  “What the hell?” Mason swung his leg over his saddle and jumped from his horse before they’d stopped at the barn.

  “What’s wrong?” Claira asked as Grey s
topped his horse at the gate and swung down from his saddle.

  An uneasy feeling churned in Grey’s stomach. He reached up and lifted Claira from the saddle and set her on her feet. “Matt’s back already.”

  A wave of relief washed over her. “That was quicker than eight hours. He must not have made too many stops.”

  Grey’s hand skimmed along the top of the hood of Matt’s truck as they passed by on the way to the house. “It’s cold. He’s been back a while.”

  Concern replaced her relief as Grey tugged her up the steps and through the front door. The smell of vomit and Clorox filled the air and Claira knew something had gone terribly wrong on their trip.

  “Matt, you ok?” Mason rounded the top of the stairs and headed for the upstairs bathroom where miserable retching sounds echoed off the porcelain. “Oh! Oh, that’s gross! What the hell happened?”

  Matt looked up from his perch beside the toilet as he wiped Con’s face with a dampened towel. “I stopped and got the boys some breakfast on the way out of town and within an hour they were puking it back up. I couldn’t make the next three hours of the drive.” He shrugged and swiped his arm across his forehead. “I didn’t want to leave them there sick, so I turned around and came back home. Here, rinse your mouth out, buddy.” He handed Con a cup of water and watched him swish and spit in the toilet.

  “How long have you been back?” Grey squatted down and put his hand on Car’s little forehead. He was sweaty and clammy and looked every bit as pitiful as Con.

  “A few hours,” Matt shrugged. “Must have pulled in right after you guys rode out. Didn’t see much need in interrupting your day.” He ran a hand through his own sweaty hair and gave a flirty wink to Claira.

  A few hours later Matt stumbled down the stairs and out onto the front porch, freshly showered, but completely drained. After a day like the one he’d had, he wanted nothing more than to sit back in the porch swing in his bare feet and snuggle in close to their woman while Mason and Grey took charge of cleaning up the mess.

  Their woman. He didn’t believe he would ever be saying that again. It was never something he’d thought about, really. Now that she was there, it amazed him that they had even been able to breathe for the last six years. God knew they hadn’t been living. Not like Sarah would have wanted. The anger over what she’d done was still fresh, but somehow it seemed to make sense. It was just like her to stick her chin out to the world and do what she’d wanted to do. He missed that about her. She lived life on her terms, and now it seemed they were getting some of that will to live.