But he couldn’t, because that rough fuck followed by his completely outrageous, mind-blowing orgasm had torn the breath from his lungs, and it took all the effort he could muster to not lie there gasping like a fish out of water.
He’d seen it happen before. Obviously, there’d been women before Lib. They tended to think of him as the sweet little brother, the one who wasn’t scary like Tag or broody like Ry. And he enjoyed women out of the sack, it was true—he liked to take them to dinner and to shows. He liked when they dressed up pretty and he took them dancing.
He liked them in bed, too, though. Things tended to go a little darker then, and that seemed to come as a surprise to the double-X chromosome folks. Somehow, they weren’t expecting him to have a Y.
He did have, though. He had a hell of a Y, and he didn’t hold back from expressing it when he had a woman’s body in his arms. In fact, it tended to shine then.
Not exactly his fault, he thought, that it appeared as an unexpected development to women. He was a guy and made no bones about it. He wore mostly jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat, and he drove a truck. He could dress up, and he did. But when he put on a suit, he liked to think he was more James Bond-manly than sissy, pretty boy.
This last bit with Lib, though…he had to admit that might have been over the top. The kind of thing he might work up to with a woman, after giving her a few gentler clues about what he held inside him.
But Lib was who she was, and he’d been nursing a hard-on for her longer than three weeks now. And he’d had the day he’d had the day before, and she’d been there. She’d taken him into her bed, and she’d held him even through a few tears. She’d been there.
This morning wasn’t about covering for that moment when he’d been weak. He’d had a right to that, and he wasn’t ashamed.
It was just…there was no holding back. No giving her just a taste what he had in him. It was giving her all. The full monty.
She’d stood up to it. Back in the moment, when he’d been fucking her like a wild man.
And now, when he was looking at her and she was looking back and not backing down.
What a woman.
He saw it in her eyes when she’d gleaned what he was doing, had processed it, and accepted it. His first steady breath came then, and he stopped rubbing his fingers into her scalp, messing her hair up. He kept hold of her hand but stopped squeezing it so tightly. Instead, he took her fingers and drew them to his lips so he could kiss her knuckle over that ring. He kissed it again and rubbed with his thumb, soothing the red marks he’d caused.
When he looked up again, her gaze was soft, and he wanted to sink into it. Just that soon, his dick was stirring once more, and he was a second away from covering her again. Maybe rolling her onto the bed and taking her from behind. He surely did love that ass she had.
But the phone rang on the night table behind her, and he had to let go of her hand so she could reach for it.
He had a brother in the hospital. Maybe it was important. More important than what his cock wanted.
She brought her gaze back as she pressed the phone to her ear. After a moment, he knew she was talking to Tag.
“I talked to them, too,” she said into the phone, though her eyes were on Keegan. “They’re going to try to extubate him later this morning. … Yeah. I told them Keegan and I would be there. … Yeah. He looks good. I kind of drugged him last night, and he slept late. He’s doing okay today.”
Keegan lifted a brow at the paltry praise. He was doing a lot better than okay, and she had reason to know it.
“Yeah, sure,” she said now. “Yeah. Good. Me, too.”
She said, “Tag,” unnecessarily and handed the phone over. Then she pushed up, briefly—and silently—touched her lips to his, and rolled away. He watched that fine ass leave the room before he spoke into the phone.
“Yeah. Hey.”
“Have you fucked her?” Tag asked. “If the answer is no, I’m going to have to question whether you’re really my brother.”
Keegan wasn’t a changeling, he knew that. There’d been no mistaken identity at the hospital. Each of the brothers had been born on the ranch, attended by a midwife. Apparently, that was a tradition dating back to the first hundred and sixty acres. The only thing that could really be questioned was whether the brothers shared the same paternity. But they all looked so much alike—and so much like their father, too—that the only possibility was maybe their father’s previously undiscovered identical twin.
Which put them all in the same gene pool, anyway.
“Yeah, no. The answer’s not no.”
He heard a grunt. Or maybe it was a word—“Good.”
Which was…well, not unexpected, but still damned weird. “I gotta say, I wish I knew what you think you’re doing. What we’re doing.”
“Yeah,” Tag said. “We’ll talk. But for now…just go with it.”
Keegan wasn’t about to un-go, anyway. “If you say so.”
“Yeah,” said the man of few words. “Ry’s nurse said his night went okay. They’re waking him up and taking the tube out of his throat this morning. To see how it goes, she said.”
“I heard. I’ll be there.”
“I know. Libby said you were okay.”
“I’m fine, Tag.”
“That’s good.”
“You take out that grizz yet?”
“Nah.” Tag’s voice almost had a laugh in it, and Keegan remembered how maybe they’d gotten a little lucky in this shit-show. “I figured we oughtta let Ry weigh in on that.”
“All right, then.”
“I gotta get back out and fix the fence. I canceled the harvest truck for today. But I’m going to be here for a while.”
“You’ll come down later?”
“Yeah, but it might be nightfall. So…”
“So?”
“Leave Lib’s door unlocked.”
Chapter Thirteen
Liberty and Keegan spent a quiet evening at her house. They’d gone together to the hospital and stayed a good long while. Late in the morning, the staff had done a trial of letting Orion breathe on his own. They’d reduced the sedation, let Ry come to enough for him to understand what was happening, and explained his condition. If his breathing cost him too much work, because he was fighting pain, because infection was taking hold, whatever, then they’d sedate him again and re-intubate.
The doctor explained that he wasn’t confident in the result. Ry had a low-grade fever despite the antibiotics he was already on. They’d anticipated infection due to the nature of the wounds, but they might be losing ground against it. Still, the least time intubated was best, so they meant to give it a try.
Orion did all that he could. He obviously hated the tube in his throat. He’d come out of the sedation agitated. Keegan had taken his hand on one side and Liberty the other, and over and over they explained that he was safe. That he was in the hospital and safe.
When they were sure he understood the mechanics of what he was about to go through, they took him off the machine. For Liberty, it was terrible to watch. Ry tried so hard—holding her hand tightly and Keegan’s, too, working to keep his breathing stable, to fight the pain she knew he must be feeling.
But the doctor watched his oxygen saturation and the effort it took for Orion to breathe normally, and shook his head.
Orion saw him do it. “Wait,” he rasped. “Wait.”
“Sorry, buddy,” the doc said. He re-sedated Ry and replaced the tube.
“Twenty-four hours,” he said, when he was done and Ry was still again. “If we stay ahead of the infection, it should go better tomorrow.”
There was more discussion about kidney function and electrolytes and how strong and healthy Orion was, how much that helped.
Keegan and Liberty left the hospital side by side, both obviously feeling glum. They went for lunch then did some shopping. Keegan bought some athletic shorts that would fit easily over his cast, a couple T-shirts, and a pair of sport sandals so he
wouldn’t have to go around in shorts and one cowboy boot. They visited Orion again later, then stopped for groceries on the way home.
Keegan updated Tag on Orion’s condition a couple times during the day. He was on the phone again with him while Liberty was in the kitchen putting together a dinner of grilled salmon, salad, and wild rice. When he joined her again, he poured a glass of white wine for her and opened a beer for himself. Quietly, he set the table out on the screened-in porch.
She lived in an old neighborhood, at least by Denver standards. Her lot was on a hill, the yard falling away so she had a walk-out basement. The porch was above, surrounded by mature trees, and it was her favorite feature of the house. From spring through fall, she felt like she was in her own private little forest, up with the birds and squirrels. In the winter, she had great views of the city and the night sky.
She’d noticed that the Harper men, so used to being out of doors or having the out of doors so accessible to them from within their home, liked the porch as much as she did. Two of them, anyway. So far. Even in January, during the night she and Tag had spent at her place, he’d gone out to look at the sky after dark.
After she and Keegan had eaten and cleaned up, she lay with him out there on the teak recliner.
They’d pretty much given up talking. They’d said all they could about Orion—shared their worries and fears and hopes. They listened to evening birdsong and watched the dark come. Later, Liberty felt Keeg’s lips press against her forehead and realized she’d fallen asleep. He’d been gently massaging her neck and shoulders, relaxing her so much he could hardly consider it her fault.
“Let’s get you to bed, Sleeping Beauty.”
“But it feels so good right here.”
“Trust me. I’ll make you feel good in bed, too.”
Well, she was pretty sure she could, indeed, trust that. Anyway, he was pushing her up to standing. He got up, too, bent for his crutches, and nodded her on ahead. He followed when she took the few steps across the porch to her bedroom. Inside the room, she turned and then was walking backward to the bed as he crutch-stalked her. Dropping the crutches, he went down with her onto the mattress and used one strong arm at her waist to pull her up into its center.
“Did I mention I like your bed?” he asked, his hand finding its way under the hem of her skirt. Drawing it up to the top of her thigh. Around her hip and over to her ass, his big palm warm on her.
“I believe you did.”
He grinned down at her, his hand massaging again, making her feel good just like he’d promised. “All kinds of things I like here.” He pressed his knee between hers, and she could feel his erection rise against her leg. Under her skirt, his fingers had found the band of her panties, and he was skimming along it in either direction, ever closer, to her center in front, and then…in back.
Maybe he liked the back the best. With his knee, as though he wasn’t handicapped by the cast there at all, he bent her left leg up, giving himself room for what he intended at her ass. Lifted on his left elbow, watching her, he brought his right hand around between her legs. He followed the tiny bit of silk to her rear, tugged the fabric aside, and put his middle finger at the opening there.
His gray eyes were intent, his face serious now. They took several breaths together while he just touched there with his finger. Then he pushed in, his finger dry and abrading. Just as far as the sphincter. Just occupying her there. Titillating. Drawing all of her attention.
Liberty’s breath hummed out, an uneasy acceptance. She had her hands on his arms, those lovely bulging biceps, and her fingers clutched involuntarily.
He leaned farther over her, looming, his eyes burning and his breath warm. With a single flexion, he pressed his hard cock into her right thigh. “Open your blouse, baby,” he said.
Somehow, that finger in her ass slowed her brain and dimmed her hearing. She knew he’d spoken, she’d seen his lips move, but it felt like long moments before she comprehended.
Keegan waited expectantly. Finally, the slightest movement of that finger, a tiny surge, signaled his impatience.
“Ah.”
He lifted a brow. “Did you hear what I said?” Another movement, not so slight this time. Not really subtle at all.
“Y—yes.”
That brow stayed up until she finally stirred her fingers to take hold of her top button. Now his eyes went there, intense as he watched what she did.
One at a time, slowly, distracted by that presence in her ass, she undid each button. When she got to the little ruffle at the bottom, he nodded.
“Open it up. Show me.”
Her fingers moved to the sides of her blouse and separated them. He murmured his approval, his attention fully on her tits now. She felt them tighten, like they were basking in his appreciation.
“Open the bra,” he said, his voice husky now. His finger moved in her ass again, and she didn’t think it was intentional on his part.
But it was rousing on hers. She moaned and, without her conscious thought, her left leg opened further. Her pelvis flexed a little, as though she was seeking more. Not just that finger there, place-holding, right in her sphincter. But something like…thrusting. Like filling.
He paid no mind, though, just waiting with his gaze focused on the front clasp of her bra. His finger moved again, deliberate, this time, drawing her awareness. She took the clasp in both hands, opened it, and, not waiting for his inevitable prompt, spread the bra to bare her tits.
“Fuck, yeah,” Keegan breathed. She could feel the warmth of it, his lips were so close. He bent lower, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the pleasure of his mouth. It didn’t come. Not even when she arched her back, lifting toward him, recklessly begging.
“Touch them yourself,” he said then. “Play with them. Show me how you like it.”
Liberty’s eyes popped wide in surprise. He met her gaze steadily. When all she did was continue to look at him, that finger in her ass reamed her. One full, stretching, exquisite circle.
“Ah,” she said again, not exactly sure what she meant by it.
“Do it.”
Liberty remembered, then, when Tag had given her the same instruction. How she’d hesitated but in the end couldn’t resist his hot commands. He’d watched as she’d made herself come, just as he’d urged her to do. Then he’d fucked her, practically losing his head in it.
Now Keegan made the same commands. Reinforced them with another ream of her ass.
“No,” she said, decided, perverse for no reason she could think of. Except that it was…exciting. Edgy. “You already know how I like it.”
Hard. Like he’d done that morning.
He tilted his head, inspecting her with obvious curiosity. Perhaps he wasn’t used to women telling him no. He kept watching her, and, almost idly, his finger circled her ass.
Then it was two fingers. And he wasn’t just holding there anymore, or circling. He shoved his fingers in, stroked with them. Scissored.
“Women who disobey me,” he said, thrusting hard into her now, “get fucked in the ass.”
She didn’t care. Because, already, what he was doing to her was turning her on. So bad. She wanted to cry out with it. To flail. To roll over so he had all the access he could want.
He shoved hard and held the pressure there, stretching her, almost like he intended her to take his whole fist. “Get up,” he said. He took his hand away and pushed to his feet.
Liberty followed, standing at the side of the bed.
“Lose the clothes,” he said. With one crutch, he hopped out of the room, and she could hear him in the bathroom. He was running water. Washing, perhaps, those fingers that had been in her ass.
He came back, still drying off with a hand towel. He nodded his approval—she’d stripped out of the remnants of her clothing while he’d been out of the room. “Got lube?” he asked.
She nodded and bent to retrieve it from the bedside table. He shook his head when she offered it up. “You do it,” he said, �
��or I’ll fuck your ass without it.”
This time, she took his command seriously. While he watched, she reached behind with the tube of lube. She pressed the nozzle in and knew he saw the shudder as she filled herself with it.
When she was done, she opened her hand and dropped the lube on the floor.
“Turn around and bend over the bed.”
She did it, resting her hands on the mattress to hold herself at a right angle.
“Drop down,” came the next instruction. “Use your hands to show me how ready you are.”
Liberty lowered her upper body to the bed. Her ass was in the air, and she knew there was nothing accidental in her positioning. She was exactly as he wanted her. With an unsteady breath, she reached with her hands, using her fingers on each cheek to open herself for him.
Without speaking, he went to the foot of the bed and retrieved his other crutch. When he came back, he stood close and used one crutch to indicate what he wanted next—her feet spread farther apart.
She heard the tug at the elastic waist of his shorts. After that, he drew out the moment, close enough that she could hear his breath, could feel the heat of him. But not touching. She knew there would only be one touch when it came—his cock, her anus.
She groaned as he made it happen.
He set himself there at her opening, slowly pushing in until she was stretched around the largest girth of him. She panted quick breaths, her body slow to accommodate to that incursion, knowing it would almost be a relief for him to shove past her sphincter and actually fuck her. Torturing her, he held there so long that she almost did it on her own, almost pushed back to fuck herself down on his cock.
But he stood behind her so commandingly, braced on his crutches, his cock thrust forward, with Liberty at his mercy. Her hands still held herself open for him while her upper body rested helplessly on the bed. All she could do was wait, hovering at that edge of pain/pleasure, enthralled, excited, and near-panicky all at once.
Three Men and a Woman: Liberty (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) Page 15