Three Hearts Beat as One (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  Hands in pockets, Devin shrugged. “I realize I need to go slow, to find out what you’re suited for. Besides, isn’t giving someone an orgasm a form of control? I’m just glad I could do it. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Lacey said slyly.

  “That was some mind-blowing orgasm, woman. Are you always that explosive?”

  “Never.”

  They grinned like goons at each other for a while, and then Devin frowned at something over her shoulder. He took a few long strides to her then gripped her shoulder in the universal sign language to stay put. She pivoted to see what he was up to. He was at the front plate glass window peering through the blinds.

  “What the fuck…” he whispered.

  Without putting on a shirt, he unlocked the front door and was gone out front. Lacey took this opportunity to go to the changing room and get back into her street clothes. She had been working in her usual jeans and button-down plaid flannel shirt, but when Devin had invited her here, she had changed into a jean miniskirt and a loose, flouncy blouse. She even had four-inch heels to totter out on when she heard Devin ranting in the store.

  “God fucking damnit! Chase, get down here!”

  He was waving around a bright yellow piece of paper, and he only modified his rage slightly when he saw Lacey. “Some fucking moron’s going around town posting these fliers! Says this vigilante group named—Chase, look at this piece of shit!”

  Lacey read over Chase’s shoulder. “For the sake of our children we need to shut down the Positive Vibrations store for good!” urged the flier. “The brain drain of this store is our town’s road to ruin! Join us in getting this referendum on the next ballot! As concerned citizens and parents, we say, ‘Just because we’re named Hell’s Delight doesn’t mean we have to act like it!’”

  The flier was signed by some merchants Lacey was familiar with, like the bookstore owner Saul Wakeman and the owner of the flower shop, but the author of it claimed to be a guy named Sam Ramone.

  “Who the hell is Sam Ramone?” Chase wondered.

  “Never heard of him,” added Devin. “And look. He calls his association ‘The End of the Century Pioneers.’”

  Lacey said, “Well I’m going to help you take down as many as I see, especially the ones in front of Delight Hardware. I’ll ask Cal and his dad if they saw who posted them.”

  Lacey had a feeling, though, that she knew who Sam Ramone was. The Ramones were Ben’s favorite group. And Road to Ruin, Brain Drain, and End of the Century were the titles of three of their albums.

  Ben was out to get Chase and Devin because they were pursuing Lacey.

  Chapter Nine

  Chase nervously locked up his store Monday night. Of course, his assistant manager, Julie, would be handling things when Chase was up at Hardscrabble Ranch tomorrow. It was just that with these fliers being posted anonymously all over town, he never knew who his enemies were. And how could anyone defend against faceless enemies? Chase liked to know who he was dealing with, so he could go punch them out.

  That was Chase’s normal way of dealing with things. But with an unknown asshole running around, he felt helpless. He only liked feeling helpless when he was collared to a wall and Devin was inserting a long, thick implement up his ass. Being flogged for an imaginary crime—that was the good sort of feeling helpless. He didn’t like feeling helpless against some asshole trying to shut down his business, his livelihood.

  Lacey had opined that it might be Ben Pearson behind all this upheaval. She needed more proof. The men tended to agree with her, of course. It was a coincidence of the hugest sort that the fliers had appeared two days after the charity auction. Chase had never heard of any fellow merchants thinking his business was a stain on the community. Lacey tried to ask the bookstore owner who was behind it, and he’d only say that some kid had asked if he could add his name to the flier before printing more. Same with the flower shop gal.

  “I think a store like that is more appropriate in a larger city, not a small town like Hell’s Delight,” the flower woman had said.

  The bookstore owner just hated Chase for being with Lacey.

  So there were Ben’s two supporters, and he’d obviously paid some kid to staple the fliers everywhere. Many of Chase’s fellow merchants had seen the kid posting them. The key was to find the kid.

  Julie had actually agreed to sleep inside the store itself, and not up in Chase’s apartment, while he was at Hardscrabble. She was licensed to carry a .45, in case the parochial pioneer Sam Ramone of the End of the Century gang was also a rapist.

  Chase had done all he could, and he thought about Lacey on the short drive to Hardscrabble. He had left Lacey and Devin alone in the store after Devin had licked her to orgasm. He wanted them to establish a bond so he could observe.

  Chase was glad that—so far, anyway—he had not been jealous watching Devin make love to Lacey. It was a very intimate thing, a man putting his head between a woman’s thighs and lapping her to orgasm, and Chase hadn’t detected one twinge of resentfulness. In fact, it had turned him on watching, which was why he’d angled his face toward Devin’s bulging crotch, dying for a chance to join in the pleasure.

  How Chase would feel when Devin slid that beautiful prick up inside Lacey was a different story. He had to be part of the fun, he had to be included! This was why Devin called Chase a “brat”—he often acted up, demanded things, and was impertinent. Many other subs wouldn’t be allowed to get away with half the shit Chase did. He supposed they didn’t have traditionally defined roles.

  Meantime, Chase wanted to participate. The sun had set when he pulled through the gates of Hardscrabble, the wrought iron twisted into shapes of a cabin, work gloves, boots. Mr. Jonas had created this ranch from scratch and he wanted everyone to know it. He had died when Devin was fifteen—his mother had long ago run off with some man, Chase believed to Canada—so it was up to Devin and his hard-partying brother to keep the ranch going. Of course they’d had major help from the ranch manager and hands, and the brother turned out to prefer partying to ranching, one reason, Chase surmised, that Devin hated Ben Pearson.

  They have to let me play, too. Chase had brought some toys and implements with him. It was only fair that if he’d be restrained, then Lacey should have her turn at it. In the foyer of the ranch house, he set down his camo day pack of toys. Chase practically raced into the large kitchen, where two walls of windows let in what was left of the sunlight. He was late because he’d had to close up his shop, and he realized it did make him nervous thinking what the couple would do without him.

  He was massively relieved to find Devin standing over a pot of stew, Lacey relaxing at the large butcher block table with a drink. “I slept up in those hills behind Katrina’s house, you know, how Last Chance Drive winds around that mountain there?”

  “You were only eight years old,” Devin said with indignity. “How could your mother let you sleep in the hills alone?”

  “She made me sleep in the hills,” Lacey admitted. “She was really a horrible mother, someone who wasn’t cut out to have children, really. She constantly locked me out of the house, and Katrina’s mother got sick of me always being there, so I had no other choice. It’s not bad, really, in the summer and autumn. To me, it was normal. You know how children never doubt their parents’ choices? They’re just so trusting.”

  “That’s true,” said Chase, to join in the conversation. “My dad was a Marine major who constantly beat me for the smallest infraction, and I never questioned it. I just thought I was the horrible one, not him. It wasn’t ’til my early twenties that I started thinking, ‘Hey, wait just one second now. No muscular, two-hundred-pound marine should beat a ten-year-old boy. I couldn’t possibly have done anything that bad.”

  “No one should beat a ten-year-old boy,” Lacey pointed out.

  Chase grinned. “That, too,” he agreed. “Where is your mother now? Is she still married to Gene Zhukov at the hardwa
re store?”

  “They didn’t last long together. Maybe he got tired of her constant shrieking. But he was always very kind to me, and of course I’m best friends forever with his son Cal.”

  Lacey hadn’t really answered the question, and Devin beat Chase to it. “Where is she now?”

  “I suppose she’s still in the house where we grew up,” Lacey said flippantly. Chase could tell she’d had years of experience in shutting down her emotions regarding her mother. “I wouldn’t know. I never attempt to contact her again. We haven’t spoken in ten years. Can I make another one of these drinks?”

  Chase scooped up Lacey’s martini glass. “I’ll get it. Sidecar?” he guessed.

  “Yes,” said Lacey, surprised. “How’d you know? It’s such an unusual drink.”

  “We’ve been on a sidecar roll lately.” Chase stood at the tiled countertop, pouring booze. The house had been built in the 1930s, but Devin had remodeled it before Chase had hooked up with him, keeping it in the Craftsman tradition. “You two have a lot in common, basically raising yourselves.”

  “Yes,” agreed Lacey, and Chase could hear the smile in her voice, though his back was to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who instantly understood some of the issues I had as a teenager. Devin’s father wasn’t an abusive asshole, but Devin had to raise himself. Both of you might know some of my issues. Living in a house that never had any food, I developed a great hatred and fear of poverty, too.”

  “I got you on that one.” Devin replaced the stew pot lid and turned to face the room. “I was so freaked out about poverty when my dad died, I worked ten times harder to make this place a success. I was able to double my acreage and head of cattle. I had to teach myself the math involved in determining how many cattle I could carry.”

  Lacey wrinkled her nose. “There’s math?”

  “Hell, yeah. Animal units, dry matter, forage mass…It’s enough to make your head hurt.”

  “Speaking of animal units,” said Chase, handing Lacey her drink, “Lacey will start her cowboy education tomorrow. What’re you starting her out on? Roping lessons?”

  Devin usually handed the tourists over to his ranch manager and hands, so Chase was surprised when Devin said, “I’ll start her out on horseback. That’s the most basic skill. That alone could take weeks if you really got into it.”

  Aha. Devin and his horseback fantasies had gotten the better of him.

  “But it won’t take weeks,” Lacey warned, “because I seriously want to learn the other stuff—roping, moving cattle, repairing fences, making a fire from two sticks of wood—”

  “What?” Devin gaped. “Did the ad say that?”

  Lacey rose from her chair and stroked Devin’s arm. “Just kidding. But I want you to know I’m serious about getting my money’s worth, especially since I probably paid twice the regular price for charity. And when Katrina comes tomorrow, I want her to know I’m serious. Not just here to force you to give me orgasms.”

  This was a good spot for Chase to subtly introduce one of his toys. During the encounter in the store, he hadn’t even had a chance to touch the woman, much less take off a shred of his own clothing. Normally he wasn’t given an option either way—he was usually bound and forcibly seduced, which was the way he liked it.

  But he wanted a chance to play with their new toy. If she was going to be the third side of their ménage triangle, Chase had to know how far he could push both her and Devin. Now he gently shoved her to face the counter. He was forceful enough that Lacey had to put down her sidecar to brace herself against the marble. Devin leaned his hip against the counter with a curious expression. Either he was eager to see what Chase was up to, or he was jealous. Jealousy would ruin everything.

  Chase gathered the hem of her short, flippy skirt in his hand, revealing her rounded butt covered by the red cotton tights. She resembled an ice skating doll in her red pullover sweater with a border of hearts and what looked like chocolate kisses. It had been much longer for Chase than for Devin since he’d touched a woman. He had stuck mainly with men for ten years. Just running his palm over her ass was such a foreign, strange feeling. It definitely had a plumper, less solid feel than a man’s, and the difference turned Chase on. “What’s wrong with forcing us to give you orgasms?” he asked lightly.

  He was really hoping his chatter would distract her from his yanking down of her tights. Devin looked on with interest, his prick visibly rising in his jeans as Chase smoothed his palm over the lily-white skin. He knew his own cock was expanding. Lacey could not have been a more innocent, prim, violated picture if she had been wearing actual ice skates. To enhance the image, Chase smacked her bare rump several times. The smack even sounded higher, more feminine, than the slap to a man’s ass. Chase was fascinated.

  Lacey barely flinched, although Chase saw her eyes tear up. She was going to be stoic. That was good. She even waggled her ass enticingly to encourage Chase’s slaps. “Nothing’s wrong with it…my lord.”

  Chase liked the moniker, but Devin told her, “You don’t need to address us like that. We’re your lovers, Lacey, not your masters. We want to teach you both sides of the coin.” However, he joined Chase in slapping the bared ass, alternating spanks with strokes to her labia.

  This gave Chase the chance to back off and admire Lacey’s bared muff. If he bent at the knees, he could see the lips of her pussy framed by tight reddish curls. His prick hardened when Devin put a cowboy-booted foot between Lacey’s furry boots and kicked her feet apart. Now her entire cunt was exposed, and Devin slapped her then swiped one long middle finger up her reddened, juicy slit. Again, she flinched, but did not pull away. Chase assessed she was already wet enough for what he had in mind.

  “You want me to be a switch,” said Lacey.

  Someone had done her homework. Chase callously yanked the sweater up and over her head. Her slippery strawberry curls haloed around her shoulders, giving her a luminous, saintly look. When she looked up at Devin from under her lashes like this, Chase nearly imagined he was in love with her. Emotion welled in him, and he couldn’t put words to it. Was it love? Lust, more likely. She definitely was a voluptuous, pretty vixen. Chase hastened to yank down the cups of her red underwire bra as she leaned forward on the counter. The underwires held up her ample breasts just as the corset had done, lifting them, jutting them forward. He surprised her by swiftly applying the set of nipple clamps to the nubbins of her erect nipples. She gasped and flinched when he slid the O rings closer to the black plastic tips, tightening the tweezers and giving more bite. He knew from experience how close he could go before pleasure became pain.

  “Do you like it?” Chase asked, but Devin was rubbing his big erection against her naked ass, cupping her protruding breasts and murmuring in her ear.

  “God, you look tasty. You look like a goddamned snow bunny with your butt exposed like this, just waiting to be mounted.”

  Had Devin read Chase’s mind? Chase handed Devin the pair of fake fur handcuffs he’d brought. Of course the ranch was well-equipped enough to stock a whole new sex toy store, but Chase had had specific ideas in mind and didn’t want to risk being unprepared.

  Devin whipped the cuffs from Chase’s hand and, nearly without looking, snapped them around Lacey’s wrists. She could still lean on the counter but couldn’t slap their hands away if they chose to do something she took exception to. Chase had never unwrapped a purple vibrating silicone butt plug from its packaging as fast as he did right now, slathering it with lube. Devin had indicated that Lacey should stay put leaning against the counter, but nothing prevented her from looking over her bare shoulder at the toy. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing as Chase lubed it up.

  Devin, however, was a different story. He looked upon the toy with envy. He was usually the one to wield such toys, and Chase saw his eyes fill with avarice. That was why Chase wasted no time in nudging the football-shaped tip of the purple plug against Lacey’s exposed anal ring. “It’s not very wide,” he assured
her. “It’s one of the smallest we have. I just want to stretch you, get you accustomed to having something up your ass.”

  “Okay,” she gasped, her eyes now squeezed shut.

  Devin grabbed the motion lotion and put a dab on his own fingertips. Devin was smart. When he even lightly touched the tip of Lacey’s clamped nipple, her eyes popped open, and a smile lit up her luscious mouth. “Oh, Devin,” she said naughtily, seemingly unaware that Chase had the butt plug halfway up her ass.

  The plug wasn’t very long either, and Devin soon diddled Lacey into such a lather that she didn’t seem to notice the plug seated fully inside her rectum. A thoroughly evil idea popped into Chase’s head then. He grabbed Lacey’s shoulder firmly and pressed her to her knees. He, too, got down behind her in order to give her some direction while jiggling the plug in her ass to stretch her.

  “Rub your mouth all over that bulge,” he instructed her.

  It didn’t take much convincing. Lacey went to it enthusiastically. Before Chase could even tell her to do so, she was mouthing Devin’s fat hard-on through the jeans material, her jaw working overtime. The twinge of jealousy that pierced Chase seemed tolerable. They were doing this together, in the same room, everyone on the same page. He wasn’t over the moon thinking that someone else would get to enjoy the taste of Devin’s long, fat prick, but this was to be expected in a ménage. What did Chase plan to do—chain Lacey to the wall and have her watch the two men go at it?

  No, of course he expected her to participate. It would just take some getting used to, some adjustment. Now, as he took the back of her skull between his fingertips and guided her to mouth the head of the prick, he murmured in her ear, “He’s a delicious stud, Lacey. You’re lucky to have him. Some of the most erotic moments of my life have been sucking down that big, fat cock. Here.”

  Chase assisted by expertly unbuttoning the over-large cowboy belt buckle and buttons of Devin’s 501s using just one hand. He was momentarily chagrined he hadn’t thought to have a cock ring handy, as that would make Devin’s mouth-watering muscular dick bulge out even more urgently. But when Chase yanked down the jeans and boxer briefs and ran his hand over the steamy pubic mound, the cock nearly slapped the woman’s face, full and eager.