RopeMeIn

by Cerise DeLand

  She licked her lips, long and slow. “Do you have parties in there?”

  “Very smart cookie,” Harry praised her and crossed his arms.

  “We’re waiting for the right time,” Will confessed, blunt as ever.

  “And the right person to enjoy it with,” Harry elaborated, his gaze locked on hers, the implication that the only woman he meant to invite to that room was her.

  She absorbed that. One second. Two seconds. Thr—

  She stood, pushing back her chair so violently it teetered on its back legs. Her robe—Jed’s robe—gaped open but her mind was in the gorgeous bathroom, the shower, the chaise, the possibilities of having a party in there. Naked. Wet. With one of them. Two of them? All of them?

  Jed threw down his cards.

  Will moaned.

  Harry just admired her display, his eyes burning every part of her, sending her up in flames that scorched and told her what he wanted from her.

  Was she scared or tempted? Teasing them or testing them?

  Yes, Harry had forced the issue. The storm wouldn’t last forever. And as he had said, he was not a patient man.

  Was she a patient woman? Should she be?

  She was nearly naked and the opportunity to have them all to herself to fire her up, make them all burn together brightly could never be more perfect.

  But she grabbed the front of the robe, tugged it closed and fled toward the bathroom.

  Chapter Four

  “Let me in, Cara.”

  Jed. That’s Jed at the door.

  She backed up to the far wall. One hand to her mouth, one to her heart.

  He rattled the door handle. “Cara, let me talk to you.”

  She was trapped here. Who knew she was at the Rocking M? No one. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Hadn’t been able to call. But the MacRaes couldn’t have been planning what she thought they were. She’d come here today unannounced. She’d been in town only two months. These men didn’t know her. Not really. She was so different from the tomboy she had been fifteen years ago. She was adventurous only in business, not in…sex.

  True, she’d wanted more from Jeff in bed. She suggested more than missionary. He’d refused. She had suggested oral. He had agreed to blowjobs for himself, nothing for her. She’d offered anal. He cringed. Handcuffs? No. He was stuck in his ordinary little world and his bland heaven.

  But now you are here and these three men have plans to seduce you? And this house remodeling that cost thousands of dollars was done to enchant a woman—or three?

  Absurd. What man does that?

  Evidently, they had.

  They have even gone to the trouble to buy verbena soap. Could that be coincidental?

  “Cara.” Jed again, this time his rough voice more demanding. Her nipples got hard at the sound of his urgency. Her pussy gushed with appreciation of his gruffness.

  That too is ridiculous.

  “I do have a key to the lock, Cara. Open it now or I do it myself.”

  Do it. Show me what you’re made of, MacRae.

  Oh who the hell was that talking?

  She heard the key in the lock and suddenly there he stood, inside, closing the door and sinking back against it. His smoldering jade eyes taking her in, warning her, mesmerizing her.

  “Listen to me, Cara.” He seemed to croon her name. Then he took a step forward, slowly, one hand out to let her see he was controlled and gentle. But insistent.

  “Wait, Jed.” She put out a hand. “Tell me about this.” She indicated the sumptuous bath.

  He watched her as if he were a starving man. “What do you want to know, baby?”

  Her cunt flooded at his endearment, her cream dribbling down her thighs. She felt a tiny scream growing inside her chest. “Why did you remodel the house?”

  “It needed it.”

  She shook her head. “Not good enough.”

  He took another step toward her. “We three like living together, working together. It’s a damn big ranch and we need each other. So we started to draw up plans to redo the main house nearly two years ago.”

  “So it’s big enough for three men and…and three wives. Women,” she corrected herself.

  One step closer. “That was probably the original idea.”

  “And then?”

  “We began to give up hope of finding women who suited us.”

  She scoffed.“Incredible. What’s so hard to suit?”

  He gave her that bad-boy half-grin of his as he drew nearer. “We have particular tastes.”

  “Like what?”

  His beautiful eyes ran down her body and back up to meet her gaze. “We like our women five-six. Fits our six-foot-two frames well.”

  She waved a hand. “There must be thousands of five-foot-six women out there.”

  “True. But few that have gorgeous big breasts with hips we can hang on to, a small waist and a lovely oval face.”

  “There’s more to a woman than the packaging.” Jeff had valued her for her looks but she wasn’t selling herself short on that basis ever again. Any man she sought for one night or a lifetime had to prize her for more than a pretty package.

  “True. We also appreciate that you are smart and ambitious.”

  “Don’t care for women who sit home all day and eat bonbons?”

  “Or the ones who can’t think beyond their next hair and nail appointment.”

  “No Texas princesses for you?” she teased him, delighted at the way he responded so readily to her barbs.

  Wincing, he nodded. “Did you know you are the only woman to open a new shop in this town in more than five years?”

  “No. But there is a market in Texas for great lingerie.” She waved a hand, her nerves showing, and she hated that. “Heck, American women need sexy stuff.”

  “They certainly do. Men too. Me too.” He tipped his head toward the kitchen. “And two others who’d like to buy some for the lady of their choice.”

  “But they don’t seem to have one.” Okay, so that was forward. But she was half-naked, horny and she had to be prickly, didn’t she? She was no fast lay. “Do they?”

  “No. Neither do I. At least not unless I can interest you in the possibility?”

  “You don’t know me.” She gulped. “It’s one thing to love a compliment, another to take up the offer. You can’t say you saw me at the feed store and decided then and there I was a good match for a lover? We met only last week. You began this building project months ago.”

  “We three got sick and tired of cattin’ around. That was sometime last year. We decided to redo the house before we ever knew exactly who we wanted to bring here. We had an offer from some friends of ours to erect a special building on the grounds. That got us thinking that we needed to redo the old house. But you?” He sidled up close to her. “A few months ago, I saw the picture of you in the Bravado Herald and remembered you. I took an interest.”

  She sputtered, waving a hand. “An interest? Is that what you call this?”

  “I’d call it more than that, but you’re not in the mood to understand it. So I’ll stick to my statement.”

  “Absurd.”

  “Not really. Not if you think about it.”

  “What am I to think? That you design this wonderful house so that you can invite women up here—”

  “Yes. What’s wrong with a man wanting a woman he can enjoy? Someone he can spend time with? Every day?”

  “Nothing. I’m not used to a man doing much for a woman.”

  “Your father wasn’t good to your mother?”

  “He walked out on her.”

  “I see. And then you had a husband who didn’t pay you much mind either.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to have the chance to show you I’m not like that.”

  “But by your own admission,” she countered, “you’ve had any number of lovers.”

  “I haven’t been a monk, no. Neither have my brothers. But that doesn’t mean we can’t want one woman t
o cherish.”

  “One for each of you?” She cast a glance at the door, flexing her shoulders with an uncomfortable idea. “This feels like more than that.”

  “It might be. It could be. Depends on how we all get along, doesn’t it?”

  “All four of—?”

  “I suppose it’s hard to imagine.”

  Not really. “But…but I’ve never been in an orgy in my life!” Was she sounding a bit scary? And why were her nipples ever so hot and cold? Why was her pussy demanding she cup herself and stop the pounding? “I can’t believe—”

  “What?” His gaze traveled her mouth, her throat, her breasts. “That you’re aroused? Intrigued? That you came out to dinner in my robe and belted it so loosely that my brothers and I have feasted on your bare skin for the past three hours?”

  Caught by fact. She was flummoxed. Amazed at her self-sabotage. Did she want these three charming men fucking her or not? Could she chance it and expect they’d satisfy her? Give her at least one grand orgasm? Her gaze darted this way and that, then to his darkly beseeching eyes. “Can I leave?”

  “Any time, though my brothers and I hope you don’t.”

  “Why?” She had to know.

  He stood right in front her now, one hand to the collar of the robe that slipped from her shoulder, one hand to her chin to lift her lips to his. Then he spoke on them. “Because you suit us, Cara.”

  “How?” she asked breathlessly, foolishly, hoping this was not some wet dream of being romanced by a tall, dark, handsome cowboy with the biggest erection this side of the Rio Grande pressing against her groin.

  “In there,” he said, tipping his head toward the kitchen. “We haven’t had such a good time horsing around in ages.”

  “You three get along so well.”

  “We do. But we haven’t laughed like that in a long while.”

  “Haven’t lost at cards like that in a long while?”

  “God help us. We’re inspired by your good company. We’d like you to stay. For a long while.”

  She pulled backward, her gaze on his mouth. His wickedly talented mouth. Broad lips, firm but soft on hers. A breath away. “And if I agree…if I let you show me, can I still leave afterward?”

  “If you want,” he murmured as he bent to nip her earlobe, then trace the tip of his tongue down the line of her throat.

  She sagged against the cool mirrored wall.

  He caught her up in his arms, chuckling lightly as he pressed her backward. “You don’t want to go anywhere without me having you.”

  Her body purred in agreement.

  He gave her a little shake. “Say it.”

  She sank her fingers in his silky midnight hair, lifted one bare leg around his and thrust her aching pussy at him, surrendering to what she wanted from him. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you fucking me.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said in gentle triumph and pushed the robe to the floor. Then stood back.

  Her body had been drawn like a magnet to his. At his departure, she swayed but caught herself to stand. Dejected that he had left her, questioning again that he would treat her right, she wanted to scream at him to get on with it or let her leave. Hell. Like she’d go in this storm? Not! Like she’d leave without one close adventure of the erotic kind with one of the renowned MacRae boys? That was crazy talk.

  “Never fear. You will learn to trust me,” he told her as compensation for the loss of his flesh against hers. “You heard me. Now show me that sweet body, lady. I need to see every inch before I sink my cock inside.”

  She bit her lower lip, forcing back a whimper of need and dismay. His robe pooled at her feet. He wasn’t going to remove her lingerie but wanted a show. The idea sent a hot shiver up her spine and she smiled at him, agreement and seduction in her move. “Go on, show me,” he whispered when she paused, his voice a wreck.

  Could he desire her that much? Could he think her that lovely that his voice would catch? His hands would clench? His breaths would come in rapid succession?

  He might. He could.

  She knew she had assets. She’d used them, working in Madame Therese’s in the Rue la Fayette in Paris. She had smiled and urged men to buy the most outrageously expensive and fabulously seductive lingerie for their wives, their amours and their mistresses. On more than one occasion, she had received requests from her gentlemen customers to model the bras and panties she showed them. On just as many occasions, she had gotten dinner invitations and yes, even a few to the men’s country estates to don them in a private showing. Or for a few friends of theirs.

  Never had she been attracted to anything about those intense, humorless men, except their ability to buy and refer her shop to other men of similar financial means. None had ever appealed to her physically or personally like this handsome beguiling man. And his brothers.

  “Come, cherie,” Jed said to her now, as if he could read her mind, knew her old desires for a man to sweep her off her feet and demand she become his. “Let me learn who you are.”

  Then, as if his erection weren’t straining those snug jeans of his, he strolled over to the chaise longue, toed off his boots, sat back and clasped his hands behind his head.

  From somewhere high above her, she heard an old symphony her grandmother had adored. A lilting piece by a Russian composer came to mind along with the Middle Eastern fable that inspired it. The story featured a woman who was a concubine in a harem. Hopelessly in love with her master, she had never had an opportunity to attract him to her until one day when all the other women in the harem were ill, she was called to dance for him. The piece spoke of love and longing, and as the harem slave danced, she entranced her owner.

  Cara knew this was what one part of her yearned to do to Jed MacRae. Enchant him, if she could. Fascinate him, if she might. And so she reached behind her, unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor, then hooked her thumbs in the top of the frilly bikinis and stepped out of them.

  His mouth fell open, his heavy-lidded gaze rising to her own. He shifted, twirling a finger in the air to indicate she should turn to let him view all of her.

  She moved, the years of ballet providing the training and expertise to arch and swirl and yes, to preen. As she came round full circle, she swallowed hard at the look of obsession on his face. Unmoving, his eyes warmed. His breathing slowed. He seemed enchanted.

  Oh this was the way she wanted a man to look at her. As if he’d never get enough. And if, for tonight, for the next few hours, he wanted her as madly as she thought he did, she would take that with her as sustenance for a relationship that might last longer. With him or another. The look in Jed MacRae’s eyes told her that she was desirable. Enough to make her want to dance naked for him. Enough to do that extraordinary little act. And applaud her with the reverence of his gaze.

  That kind of adoration, that intensity of attraction, she had yearned for and had lacked. Had even feared she would never get it. From any man. And now here she was, back home, getting this from one of the three men she had always wanted as a kid. Had taken to bed with her at night and kissed her pillow, calling out his name.

  She stepped nearer, her eyes half-closed but solely on him, and moved to a tune she recalled only in her head. To a rhythm that weaved and swayed, she stepped to tell him she was as desirable as any harem girl, as worthy of devotion by him as any other woman.

  She danced around him in a slow circle, lifting her arms to display the globes of her breasts. She turned again, showing off the sculpted muscles of her back and waist, the tone of her ass, all of which she worked damn hard to get and keep in tip-top shape. Her mouth open, her tongue at the corner, she pouted at him. Feigning a pampered sulkiness because that’s the expression men told her they liked from her full pink lips, she put one foot up and slid it along the seat of the chaise, along Jed’s torso.

  He captured her foot against his chest and caught, she could do only one thing. She opened her thigh and let him glimpse how eager she was to have him. Yes, she whimp
ered as he swallowed in raw want, you can see how I am ready for you.

  Can you smell my need of you?

  Can you satisfy me more than I can myself?

  And as he circled his arm around her waist and dragged her up over his body, she was struck by a question she had never asked herself when she’d been in bed with any other man.

  Can you do right by me?

  Chapter Five

  He crushed her against him then rolled her under him. The warmth, the strength of him sent her head spinning. She reeled, trying to gain her presence of mind in this fantasy ablaze with lust.

  “Look at me,” he whispered, his fingers tracing her lower lip. “You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.”

  If she’d been fifteen and he had said this to her, she would have died and called it a good life. But she was thirty and done wrong by one man so badly she fought the urge to swoon at this one’s words. “I’m so glad you think so.”

  He shook his head a little, as if he heard her reticence. Then he held her chin as he reached up and kissed her eyelids. “I know so. Let me prove it.”

  She caught her breath. His actions seized her imagination. What man with a hard-on like the Rock of Gibraltar took time to kiss a woman’s nose? And her chin? Who nuzzled the hollow of her collarbone. Blessed her shoulder, the crease of her elbow and each fingertip. How could a man groan as he sat up, straddled her and cupped each breast but did not suck her, only pinch her nipples, make her moan and shift beneath him? How could a man murmur sweet nothings to her bellybutton? Make her chuckle. Then dart below to lick the top of her slit and make her cry out to have him eat her until he laved up all her cream. How could he go on, lower, further, kissing the inside of her thighs wet with her juice from wanting him. Then lift a leg, skim the calf with one big palm, wiggle each toe and come back to put his mouth over her pussy and say, “Open this pretty cunt wide, Cara, baby. I’m hungry for you.”