Acres, Natalie - Sex Junkie [Cowboy Addiction 1](Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Natalie Acres

  Her snug channel wrapped around him, welcoming him into her tight passage. Her little hole felt like a small, closed fist clenching around him. “Oh, sweet baby. You feel so slick and warm.”

  She stiffened as her body accommodated them. Then she rocked them, swaying one way and then the other. “Oh my God. If I’d only known what I’d been missing!”

  “Now you do,” Blake said, licking her nipple.

  She undulated right then, her tantalizing hips grinding out a scandalous tempo. And as Grant had feared and expected, he was hooked on her sweet loving all over again.

  “That’s right, vixen,” Grant rasped. “Use that sexy body. Show us how our submissive woman can move.”

  * * * *

  Blake’s hooded eyes were as much of an enticement as the foreplay itself. Seeing how much he wanted her, how much he still desired her, made her work harder for his pleasure, his complete satisfaction.

  As much as they’d sworn only to fuck her, to use her body for sex alone rather than making love to her, she wasn’t fooled for a second. That disconnection she couldn’t separate. The lust and love were adjoined. With Blake and Grant, the two would always be linked.

  Blake was the first man she’d ever loved, and Grant was the last. How could she have sex with either of them without those old feelings resurfacing again?

  Now, to add to the list of life complications, she felt as if she were embarking on a new journey, an everlasting adventure guaranteed to change her life. While she was angst-ridden—primarily because of the toll the drugs had taken on her body—she wasn’t necessarily afraid to face the new day.

  Her men stroked faster, fucked harder. Their cocks hammered away at the space claimed, pounding inside her as their delivery accelerated and the thrusts went deeper.

  To think she’d missed out on this kind of loving! Why hadn’t someone mentioned a threesome long before now?

  “You’re so hot,” Blake whispered. “The ginger still burns, doesn’t it?” He screwed her, impaling her with broken taps. His steely cock pulsed with his building release.

  “Yes,” she choked out, focusing on the heat, on the wild passion, the unmatched lovemaking.

  Blake’s dick thrummed inside her pussy. Grant’s hard rod pulsed inside her ass.

  Heavy cocks fucked her as large hands careened over her flesh. Blake kissed her as he pushed himself higher, using her body for leverage as he sank between her folds, held still, withdrew, and buried himself balls deep once more. His tongue fought for its place as eagerly as his dick claimed its own, tapping that spot destined to set her off.

  Morgan was sensitive from front to back, thanks in part to the fascinating sensations the violet wand generated. She felt as if her body became one giant wave of static electricity as each man developed a nearly hypnotic tempo.

  Their long, erect cocks took stock in her body. Every stroke was worthy of praise as each jolt provoked more moans, and soft cries filled with desperate whispers.

  Morgan couldn’t wait to feel their cum oozing inside her, swirling as they punched their way toward the inevitable finish, the end set to mark the beginning of another free-for-all. The last man stroking would inevitably fuck her through multiple orgasms.

  Who would it be? She gasped with a harrowing thought. After the never-ending foreplay, she would not be left to finish herself off.

  Her head fell back. Blake’s mouth skimmed across her exposed skin. Grant whispered against her ear. “Hmmm, doll. Keep that body right there. Hold still. Oh yes, honey. Let me stroke your pretty ass, sub.”

  Grant’s voice moved her. Blake’s eyes guided her. She owned more confidence then than she’d ever possessed in her life. She felt sexy and capable, loved and wanted. Oh God, this was a special moment indeed. Together, Blake and Grant marked her as their sub, their woman, and ultimately their responsibility.

  As Blake’s penis rubbed against her, the hotness became more exquisite. Grant hammered inside her ass, his nails biting into her flesh, raking over her skin as the fires became three-dimensional, splitting off in all sorts of flames.

  She was close. Her orgasm was near.

  “There!” Grant exclaimed. “Now! Oh God, yes. Now you can come for me, sub.”

  Morgan screamed their names and a resounding, “Yes, oh fuck yes!”

  Her orgasm grabbed hold, and it was like the Titanic, the mother of all releases as she fucked them faster and wilder, her body undulating like never before. The climax made her reckless, throwing her into a progressive movement.

  She screamed again and again as her entrances clenched around their cocks. The finish was near but the end wasn’t close enough, as their bodies swayed in tandem. Cocks twitched inside her. Oh hell and damnation, she was hooked on bliss, and this was sex in its rawest form. Pure and exquisite, uncut and perfect.

  Morgan bucked under one man while riding the other. The heavy weight of full condoms inspired her all over again.

  The wickedness of ginger made its final play, the intensity building again as the men rocked her body, used her sex against her, and taught her one final lesson in the school of loving.

  The last orgasm came for her. She held fast to the cocks vibrating inside her, clenching around their dicks as they guided her.

  Grant pounded inside her hole. Blake made a final surge. And their bodies found one last quake, trembling together until there was nothing left for any of them to give.

  “Oh my God, yes!” she exclaimed, bucking and riding, grinding and fucking. Grant fell against Morgan’s back moments later and Blake’s chest carried the weight of them both.

  Exhausted, she collapsed against Blake’s body and whispered against his skin, “Now, I’ve had the world’s greatest and most satisfying fix.”

  Chapter Ten

  Kilo had never seen anything like it. He lowered the binoculars and looked down at his hard cock, the bulge in his pants damn annoying.

  Since when had Morgan, a fucking junkie, made his cock this freaking hard? Shit, if he’d known Morgan had that kind of action in her, he would’ve spanked that bitch’s pussy every damn day of her miserable life.

  Fuck! What the hell had gotten into her? Since when did she move like a stripper trained to collect a high roller’s dollar?

  He studied the house again. Move like a stripper, his ass. She fucked like a whore who could’ve commanded a high-paid escort’s rate!

  Man, he’d screwed up when they’d been together. Instead of fucking her and keeping her tight little snatch for himself, he should’ve put her on a short leash and turned her out once a week to the best clients in Memphis. That little honey would’ve brought in some pocket change.

  Why hell, she would’ve paid his rent.

  When Kilo was with her, she was always too strung out, too freaking tired. But damn! He didn’t have to wonder what the hell he’d missed. He’d seen enough in the two previous hours.

  “What a waste,” he muttered. Here he thought he had to trade sex for drugs. The way his bitch moved her sweet ass, she would’ve bent over for free and liked the hell out of the cock he fed her.

  He took the syringe from his pocket and eyed the lethal fix he’d planned to give her. After watching the way his fucking whore performed, it’d be a waste to give her death’s dose. In fact, he might consider killing her as one of life’s greatest catastrophes.

  Maybe Kilo would give his brother a call and let him know what he had to look forward to in the coming days. Once he took Morgan home to Memphis, they’d treat her to a little more of the same.

  “That was the problem, huh, Morgan? You wanted what I had and everybody else, too.” He grunted. He could fix that. If she liked threesomes, maybe she’d get off on a little chain reaction. Hell, he wouldn’t just give his brother a stab at that, he’d call his cousins and their neighbors, too.

  “Well have us a good, old-fashioned gang bang,” Kilo mumbled.

  No wonder these boys lived in the country. With the toys and gadgets they had in their basement,
why hell. They would’ve been arrested in the city if someone had seen what he watched. And he couldn’t even begin to think about the noise coming from over there. He was as hard as a missile and ready to explode the second he heard her purring better than a pussycat.

  And with the thought of her slippery pussy, he had even bigger plans. He’d tap that before they got on the road and headed home. “Oh yeah,” he muttered to himself, patting his hard-on. Those two-bit cowboys didn’t have anything on him. They didn’t have shit to hold over her, either. With what he had in his pocket, Morgan wouldn’t just crawl back to him. She’d run.

  He stuffed his hand back in his jeans and gave himself a hard pull, running the top of his thumb over his swollen prick. He’d surely missed Morgan. Her replacement whined about having sex every other day. Morgan spread her legs whenever she wanted to get high.

  What the bloody hell had he been thinking in the first place? He’d meant to replace Morgan with Karen, but fuck, he’d rather have a junkie in his bed than a used-up hooker who belonged back on the streets.

  Obviously, Morgan knew how to fuck. Her replacement just lay there and moaned, acting as if his cock was the best one hanging.

  He’d like to think so, but he wasn’t well-endowed. Karen was great for stroking a man’s ego, but Morgan had it going on for stroking what he now couldn’t wait to let her toke on, too.

  Kilo pressed the binoculars against the bridge of his nose and studied the basement window again. He needed one of those wheels. He’d never seen anything quite so appealing until he saw Morgan bound to the wooden spokes. Hell, he’d seen her pussy glistening from there. Okay, so maybe his imagination was running a little wild.

  Tucking his hand away again, he rubbed the slit of his dick once more. He withdrew his arm and returned his focus to the second floor window.

  Fuck! What had he missed?

  Holding the glasses against his forehead, he squinted his eyes and tried to find them. Watching Morgan with these guys had been exhausting. He’d fumbled around with his cock for the better part of two hours. He needed a little relief.

  Morgan was bound to the bed again, but where were those morons she’d been screwing? He scoured the entire top floor trying to locate her fellows, those deadbeat cowboys who must’ve thought he’d give Morgan up without a fight.

  Not a chance. The bitch owed him over a hundred grand, and now she could work it off. She was obviously worth more to him alive and able than dead and cold.

  Kilo laughed aloud and stuffed the binoculars in his shirt. Opportunity was best enjoyed when no one expected to see a second chance coming. The cowboys must’ve hit the showers.

  He watched for any movement. Then, he glanced at the open windows on the main level one final time.

  All clear! Great. He’d hurry over to the house, grab his bitch, and they’d get the hell out of there. By midnight tonight, he’d know firsthand how well Morgan could her earn her keep and work off the dough she owed.

  Oh yeah. He was planning on a good time enjoyed by all. With any luck, he’d turn a profit on the junkie he almost set free. He could almost hear his phone ringing off the wall now. Whores like Ms. Keesling brought top dollar for a reason. It was difficult for men with eclectic tastes to find a woman like Morgan.

  He snickered. Not only did she perform well, she seemed to enjoy herself, which mattered to some men. Kilo didn’t care either way.

  “If she’ll do it for free, she’ll do it for me,” he sang, descending from his perched position. “Ah yes, Morgan. You and I are about to reconcile and have us a mighty fine time.”

  * * * *

  “What have we here?” Grant asked, glaring at the sorry son of a bitch who apparently wasted little time in traveling to Blountville. When he’d first spotted the asshole practically dangling from the tree, he almost didn’t believe his eyes. This guy was some piece of work. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you were already nearby when we spoke on the phone.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Kilo asked, brushing off his hands.

  “Kilo, let’s not dance here, brother. I rope steers and ride bulls. I play with big girls, grown women, and I have no patience for little girls who wear their hats backwards and their pants so low they look like they’ve been shanked several times,” Grant taunted him, watching his tan skin turn pale.

  “Grant, don’t be rude. Our guest may need a formal introduction,” Blake said.

  “You reckon?” Grant asked, clenching his fists.

  Blake aimed the gun at Kilo’s cock. “Oh yeah, I think a man has a right to know who’s gonna blow his dick off. What do you think?”

  “For the record,” Grant drawled. “I ain’t seen Blake here on his knees. And he sure ain’t offering to loan you our woman.

  “Given the fact you watched us with your binoculars, I’d say you already know Morgan won’t be servicing you anytime soon—or more correctly, ever again.”

  “She ain’t anything but a junkie,” Kilo said, twitching as he moved, acting like a coked-out crackhead. “But, man, if you want her, we ain’t gotta fight about this. I’ll name my price. You can pay up, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Of course, yeah. You know, since she’s a junkie and all. I’ll try to set a fair price.”

  “You’re right about one thing. I’ll give you that. Morgan is an addicted somebody,” Grant said, his nails biting into his palms. “She goes at my cock like she ain’t ever gonna get enough.”

  Kilo’s left eye twitched and his brow furrowed. Grant narrowed his gaze on the man who’d made Morgan his pawn. He saw right quick-like that this man wasn’t going away without a fight. And as for selling her at a fair price, Grant might have laughed at that if this guy Kilo wasn’t so pathetic. Apparently, he really thought he could sell another human being.

  “I ain’t leaving without her,” Kilo said, studying his fingernails. “I was thinking about, you know, selling her to ya, but on second thought, I want her with me.”

  “Is it because you love her, or because you refuse to let another man—or men—make her happy?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  Grant turned toward Blake and shrugged. “He’s right. It doesn’t make a damn to me either way.”

  Kilo flashed a couple of gold teeth. His smile widened and then rapidly dimmed.

  Before Blake could stop him, not that Grant expected he might, Grant threw the first punch of many. Once he started the beating, he couldn’t hit Kilo hard enough or often enough.

  * * * *

  In the distance, Morgan wailed like a baby. Her cries only added fuel to the fire. She would deal with the nightmares and cold sweats for a long time coming, and the least Grant could do was fight for the woman he used to know, for the lover who’d owned his heart right from the start.

  He threw a left hook, and then a right one. Then, he thought of another reason to throw a few more for good measure. He hit Kilo on his left side, imagining he must’ve provided drugs to someone like his brother, too.

  “Holy shit, man! Stop! I give, okay! I give! I’ll uh…get lost! Ouch! Motherfucker, you just broke my nose!” Blood squirted everywhere.

  “Men like you don’t give a damn about anyone, and God help the person who needs some compassion. People like you rob from charities to pad the pockets of the rich, throwing in a few bucks’ worth of drugs, too, just for good measure and a quicker hook!”

  “Man, you got this all wrong! Stop it!” Kilo didn’t defend himself, and by all accounts, Grant continued to attack him, refusing to listen to anything the man might say.

  Grant bitch-slapped him a time or two more, his hands popping Kilo’s jaws automatically and so rapidly he wasn’t sure he could stop unless someone made him. Kilo yelled and he tried, somewhat, to talk Grant down, but it was no use.

  Grant grew angrier. In the distance, Morgan cried out, screaming at the top of her lungs as another nightmare led her into the kind of hell from which she’d never co
mpletely escape. Grant knew that for certain. He’d watched his brother fall victim to the horror discovered in the clutches of crystal meth.

  Hearing Morgan, Grant began obsessing over his brother Scott. He thought of Kilo or someone like him helping Scott put a drug in his arm, handing him the needle, giving him the dope.

  Grant all-out assaulted Kilo then, punching him over and over again until he was blinded by the anger, provoked by the fury and choking on pure rage.

  “I lost my brother! Damn you! I won’t lose my woman to a fucking drug, too!” He backed away and kicked him. The fury had gone too far now. His rage and anger were out of control. This was a defining moment, one from which he couldn’t escape.

  “That’s enough, Grant!” Blake screamed, trying to pull him off and push him back.

  Grant still couldn’t stop. He was like a locomotive propelling down a narrow track with only one destination now—prison. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He wanted this guy to die for what he’d done to Morgan, what guys like him had done to other young women like Morgan.

  He wanted him dead because his brother was dead.

  Another hit followed a swift kick. Another wail resounded in the distance. “Morgan suffers today because of you!”

  Kilo’s protests had long since faded away.

  “Grant! You have to stop! You’re gonna kill him!”

  A fountain of sweat spewed off his body. “No! This substance abuse problem has to stop! It’s affecting everyone around us! Don’t you see? Mothers and fathers lose their children every single day to this drug. Babies lose their parents. There’s an epidemic out there, and our country’s politicians prefer to fight wars that don’t concern them!”

  Exhausted, Grant was finally overpowered when Blake dragged him away from a badly beaten Kilo. “Fighting never solves anything. You know this! What the hell has gotten into you?”

  He glared at the man curled up at the foot of the large oak tree. “If my brother is dead in his grave, those who supplied him and others like him have tombstones with their names on them, too. I intend to help bury them under the cold stones awaiting them.”