Three Men and a Woman_Liberty

by Rachel Billings

  His hands took hold now, grasping her hips and holding her in place for himself. She moaned in relief as her hands fell from her ass, coming down onto the bed to give herself a little support. She got her elbows under her and pressed her face into her hands. Somehow, she knew what was coming, and she murmured into her hands—“Oh, God. Oh, God.”

  “That’s right, baby,” Keegan said. “You know what I’m about to do, don’t you?”

  “Keegan,” she said, a prayer, a plea, she wasn’t certain.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” A T-shirt landed on the bed, right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t Keegan’s. And it wasn’t Keegan’s voice talking to her now. “He’s going to fuck the hell out of you.” A belt she recognized—that big rodeo-rider buckle—landed on the shirt. “Do it, Keeg.”

  Almost frantic, Liberty grasped the tee and pressed her face into it. She breathed in and knew Tag’s scent, relishing it. Then she took the belt, twisting her hands so she had both wrists wrapped in it. She turned her head then, toward the door, toward Tag.

  He was visible in just the fairy lights from her Norfolk pine. He was bare-chested now, and the light gleamed over his muscled torso. He’d opened his jeans to make room for the huge erection that bulged behind his fly.

  Liberty stretched her hands out, her wrists still bound by his belt.

  * * * *

  If Tag still had any questions about how it would feel to share his woman, he was about to find out the answers.

  The sun had nearly set before he had the ranch squared away well enough to leave it unattended.

  Keeg had been right. When Tag had woken that morning, his first thought had been to partake in a little grizzly hunting. And, though bringing that she-bear down would have indulged an urgent desire for revenge, it wasn’t necessarily the right thing.

  Or, more to the point, anywhere near the top of his to-do list.

  So he’d dutifully ridden out and reinforced that patch on the fence and then taken care of the horses they’d left untended the day before. Luckily, bison were a sort of livestock who could manage on their own—just as they had done for thousands of years on the plains.

  At every moment while he worked, he’d wanted to be with Orion. To see him again, to touch his forehead or hold his hand, to watch for the evidence of his each next breath.

  At every moment, he’d ached to be with Liberty.

  Even as he’d stood beside an ICU bed, with his brother entirely too damn near death, Tag’s chest had filled with satisfaction when he’d looked at Lib and seen that ring on her finger. He may not have gotten it there by the most honest means possible, but he was going to make sure it stayed put.

  Now, he’d seen her bury her face in his shirt and breathe his scent in. That had been a hell of a turn-on, but what had really thrilled him was the way she’d taken his belt and wrapped her wrists up in it. There she was, bent over the bed with his brother’s cock up her ass, and, still, she completely offered herself to him, Tag—binding herself with his belt. The symbolism of it caused a burst of satisfaction in his heart.

  Joyful satisfaction.

  And when she turned her face to him, reaching out her bound hands, he wanted to fall to his knees in adoration. In gratitude.

  He did, in fact, go to his knees. He took a couple steps to the edge of the bed, knelt, and grasped her hands. He held her, the leather of his belt still twined around her, and leaned in so his face was close to hers. He stayed that way, his gaze locked with hers, while Keeg took her in the ass.

  Keeg started in on her the moment Tag had secured her hands and captured her gaze, like he’d been waiting for it. Propped there on his crutches, holding her hips with his big hands, he went from zero to sixty. With his first movement, he was flailing into her.

  Liberty opened her mouth, her breath huffing out with each powerful thrust, her fingers clutching Tag’s in rhythm. Her eyes glazed and her gasps came at a higher and higher pitch.

  Keegan was growling as he fucked her. Tag could see the way he grasped Liberty’s hips, nearly lifting her from her feet. He was powerful, masterful, inhibited not the least by his crutches.

  For Tag, it was a wild thrill. Watching his brother take a woman in the ass like a fucking god, watching his woman stand up to it like a freaking Amazon.

  She kept her eyes on his until the very end. Until Keeg shoved his right crutch away and reached in front for her clit. Whatever he’d done with her since Tag had left the two of them alone, Keeg had learned Liberty’s body. She lit up the moment Keeg’s fingers got there, humming out a breath until it was a screech, gripping Tag’s fingers, and shivering out the beginnings of a wild orgasm.

  Tag nearly humped the bed in the glory of it. Keeg’s powerful body slamming into Liberty, his breath a growl heading to a roar. Liberty crying and shaking with it, shuddering and then screaming as he took her over.

  Keeg gave her one of those long comes that were so fucking hot—to watch, it turned out, as well as to experience. He kept working her, ass and clit, while she howled and quaked. Finally, his own ending came, with hard thrusts that he slammed into her and then held, his body bowed, again and again. He roared and clenched, every muscle spasming with the intensity of it.

  Groaning, Keeg dug his fingers into the bedspread at Lib’s sides. Appearing helpless to it, he collapsed down, falling first onto Liberty’s back and then sliding lower. He was off-balance due to his casted leg, so Tag reached an arm out. The two men clasped wrists while Keeg, with bare grace, settled to the floor. With an unholy sigh, he rolled onto his back, lolling on the padded Navaho rug at the foot of Lib’s bed.

  Keeg was on his own. Tag had his own business to attend to before Libby slid to the floor, too.

  He put a knee on the bed and reached for the belt around her wrists. He made it official, looping the ends into a knot so her binding was more than symbolic. He tore the covers from the top of the bed then hoisted her up so she lay on the bottom sheet, kitty-corner across the mattress.

  Her eyes had opened, struggling, it looked, to focus when he raised her arms up and rested them above her head. She watched him as he went up on his knees and shoved his jeans and briefs down to bare his cock.

  Lib was on her back. He reached for one ankle, lifted it, and took it around so he was between her legs. Cooperatively, she adjusted her hips a little so they were lined up together. He looked down at her—those beautiful tits raised by the position of her arms, her long, curvy torso with legs spread open. Her bare pussy unprotected, vulnerable.

  Her breathing was still fast, still not fully recovered from that drubbing Keegan had given her. Even so—

  “You didn’t think you were going to wear my ring for more than twenty-four hours without having me fuck you, did you?”

  Just barely, she shook her head, just one single move to the right and then left.

  Tag couldn’t help what he did next, because he needed it so damn bad. He came forward and thrust his cock into her pussy—all the way, every last inch of it.

  He held himself on his elbows above her and waited while she adjusted to this next invasion. She breathed roughly at first, and he waited until both her breath and the clench of her pussy eased.

  He didn’t ask if she was okay. He just slid his hands up so his fingers could tangle with her bound ones, and then he began to seduce her. To love her with his lips, his mouth. To brush his chest over the tips of her breasts, deliberately chafing her nipples.

  They kissed, and he seduced, as though he didn’t already have his raging hard-on shoved up her. As though there was nothing complicated about their being together—not one brother, fucked out, down on her floor, not another lying in a hospital bed. As though his ring on her finger was meant to stand for his love for her, something simple. Not something a little wicked and all the way out there.

  A ménage. He’d learned about that in the last three weeks. Maybe not quite all the way out there. It was a thing.

  As though…he hadn’t set her up with his own br
other three weeks earlier and sent her running.

  “Lib,” he said now, his lips on hers, needy, like he’d never get enough. “You remember I love you?”

  He pressed kisses along her cheek, burrowed at her neck to breathe her in, nipped with his teeth at her earlobe. “Do you remember?”

  Waiting for her answer, he lifted to look into her eyes.

  “I remember.” Her voice was soft, tender.

  And then, because it was a reasonable question, because he’d just watched her share a grand fuck with his brother, he had to ask. “You still love me?”

  He probably would have asked even if he hadn’t heard Keeg haul himself to his feet—foot—and hobble off to the bathroom. Tag could hear the shower running, and it was a mild but undeniable relief not to have a brother listening in on this conversation that might have been seen as something less than manly.

  “Yes, Tag,” she said, and he was hugely gratified that she squirmed a little under him. Like she wanted something more from him than just the fact that he filled her. Something more than this conversation.

  His girl. His fucking girl.

  Her blue eyes were steady on his, though. “I still love you. I don’t think that’s going to change.”

  “No matter what.”

  She gave a tiny nod. “No matter what.”

  “Good.” Fucking damn good. He kissed her again, then wrapped his arms around her and felt her arms, bindings and all, circle over his shoulders. He held her and started fucking her and, in moments, he was lost in the bliss of it.

  His hands started moving because he just couldn’t get enough of her. They went to her breasts, and he savored the moans she let out when he worked her nipples. They went to her ass and held her to accept his thrusts. They went to her face, caressing her as he scattered kisses everywhere.

  “Oh, God. This is good.”

  He said the words, but they could have been hers. He was sure of it. As much as he loved her, as much as he loved this, this sharing of body and breath, touch and gaze and spit, she loved that much, too.

  He was sure.

  When the end came, he was over her again. He held her head, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks, her lips. Their gazes were leashed, holding until that last moment that took them together. An exquisite, poignant, piercing climax. A wild storm of his thrusts and her acceptance, a shaking, moaning, overwhelming, overtaking bliss.

  They’d closed their eyes, and he’d dipped his head for those last irresistible moments. But he looked again when he could, found her looking back, and they rode down the far side of their climax together. Connected.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tag was running on empty. He’d moved to Liberty’s right side in the aftermath of their lovemaking and rolled her along with him so they faced each other. And though he’d held her and looked at her and smiled gently, even remembering to untangle her wrists from his belt, he’d fallen asleep by the time Keegan came back into the room.

  She heard Keeg behind her. He’d arrived in that one-crutch hop for which he had significant skill. She’d marveled at it earlier, wondering how he could manage it and still look so sexy.

  Of course, he’d been bare-chested at the time, and his cock had been pressing heartily against the loose containment of his shorts. With Harper men, that was never a bad look.

  He was fresh from the shower now, naked, she imagined, his skin hot from the water.

  She imagined that pretty keenly, in fact. Pretty keenly for a woman who was in the arms of a strong, handsome man whom she loved. A different man than the hot one she was imagining.

  In the dim light of the fairy tree, Keeg stood behind her, quiet for a long moment. Liberty felt the weight of Tag’s arm around her, the heat of his body. She accepted the inevitability of what was to come when Keeg spoke. “So, brother,” he said quietly, appearing to trust that Tag would hear even as he dozed. “Are we doing this?”

  “Yes.” Tag’s response was immediate, sure.

  “Lib?” Keegan asked.

  She made them wait. Not coy, not a tease. But not in real reluctance, either. She just felt the import of it. The moment. She took a breath and let it out. “Yes.”

  The second she spoke, Keegan lifted the covers from behind her and slid into bed.

  He was warm, just as she’d imagined. Warm and muscled and…hard, of course.

  He let her know all of that in the first instant, pressing against her, sliding an arm around her below Tag’s. With that arm, he instructed her—drawing her toward him until she turned to her back. Tag’s arm lifted enough to allow the movement but didn’t let go. She saw his half-mast eyes as she went, warm, watching.

  She turned her head enough to look at Keeg. He moved his hand to cup her face. “Hey, baby,” he said. He ran his fingers into her hair. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  He followed the words with a kiss. From her warrior lover, it was a surprise—soft and gentle, adoring. Stirring.

  Keegan made it last, slowly deepening it until he was inside her mouth, his tongue stealing her taste. It was Tag who ended it with two fingers sliding along her jaw. With light pressure there, he turned her face away from Keegan. Toward him.

  Keeg let her go, his gaze on hers while she turned toward Tag. That one leaned in, obviously intent on claiming his own kiss. She breathed out a question just before he took it.

  “Do we know what we’re doing?”

  “Yes,” he promised her. “We’ll talk in the morning if you’ll trust me tonight. Trust this.”

  He was close over her but held back, waiting for her answer. Keegan, though, had already taken her breast. His big hand cupped her, and a finger very gently, very enticingly, teased at her nipple.

  Her body knew what she wanted before her head did. She closed her eyes a moment to the pleasure Keeg was giving her. When she opened them, she nodded.

  In that moment, Tag leaned in the last inch and kissed her. Like Keeg’s, the kiss was gentle and sweet—for the first minute. But what Keeg was doing to her nipple made her shiver, and, just that quick, Tag turned up the heat.

  Which didn’t last long, because Keegan’s hand had stayed on her cheek, and pressure from it now was turning her back to him. Tag let go of her only so she fell into another kiss—Keegan’s.

  Fingers—from the right, she thought, and so Tag’s—slid along her hip, unerringly finding her clit. He touched her softly, a light tease that had her moaning. Beyond her control, both her legs drew up, her knees falling out to press onto a male hip on either side.

  “More, Tag,” she said, squirming because Keegan’s fingers were biting down on her harder. When he took a good pinch, he lifted her, breast suspended by his hold on her nipple. “Oh, God.”

  Both their mouths drifted over her, one kissing her hair, her neck, her cheek, whenever her lips were busy with the other. She felt surrounded by them, their hot breaths, the solid warmth of their bodies.

  “We’re both going to fuck you,” she heard. It was Tag, his words and breaths steamy at her ear. “In your cunt and your ass. We’ll double-fuck you.”

  “Tag.” It was a moment of panic, almost. Or maybe just edgy excitement.

  “You can take it,” he told her. “You were made for this. For us. See this?” he asked. His fingers had pushed inside her now, fucking her, demonstrating. “See how wet you are? Because you want us. You want this. Double penetration.”

  With the heel of his hand, he pushed at her hip, turning her all the way toward Keegan. As though the brothers’ thoughts were connected, Keegan helped, his own hand on her ass. When she was facing him, her top leg lifted up over his hips, Tag’s fingers delved into her pussy again. He used her own wetness to moisten his fingers and then put them at her ass.

  “You want this, don’t you? Don’t you, Libby?”

  He asked—maybe demanded was a better term—as though he might actually wait for her consent.

  “Tag.”

  “Say yes, Lib.”

  “Yes,�
�� she said, because Keeg’s fingers were at her clit now, stroking and rubbing and then pinching, tugging. Somehow, he had his other hand on her tit, mimicking exactly the same actions. “God. Yes.”

  “Say please.”

  “Tag.” It came out as a whimper. “Please.”

  Like they had a crazy swarm mentality, they both pushed into her at once. Tag’s fingers in the back, and Keegan’s in the front. Two, maybe three fingers each, pressing in, stretching her, pushing deep. Tag’s mouth was at her shoulder, his teeth grazing. She remembered what he’d done with those teeth before and knew that, before this was over, he’d be clamping down on her again. Claiming her in that feral way, like a stallion covering his mare.

  They worked her hard. Keeg’s thumb moved to her clit as his fingers ransacked her pussy. It stroked over her haphazardly, a chaotic mix of the rhythm of his fingers moving inside her and her own jerking reactions as Tag reamed her ass.

  She moaned again and again, wallowing in the attention of two men—their mouths, their fingers. The hard pressure of their cocks prodding at her. Tag’s words had filled her with erotic trepidation. Double penetration. Double fucking.

  Contrary to every belief she held about herself, Liberty wanted it. Tag had put the thought in her head, and it wouldn’t leave. It was urgent now, drumming in her mind, and her body rocked. She pressed forward so Keeg’s cock nudged against her thigh, and back, so she felt Tag’s against her ass.

  They weren’t giving her what she suddenly needed, though. She whimpered again, a plea for more.

  Keeg nipped at her lip before he leaned back enough for her to see his grin.

  “You’re going to come for us first, baby,” he said. “You’re going to scream. And while you’re doing that, we’re going to fill you. Fill you up. All the way.”