Educating Ansley - a RED hot menage with cowboys

by Johnson, Cat

  Next to her, Kim Cho leaned closer. “Thanks again for giving me your extra tickets, Ans. I had no idea until a few days ago my parents were flying in from Korea to surprise me.”

  “No problem. Glad I could help.” She hoped the bitterness in her voice didn’t sound as obvious to Kim as she thought it did.

  Ansley’s gaze swept the crowd as another graduate went up to receive her diploma. She spied her grandmother in the fifth row. In the two chairs next to her, the seats she’d reserved for her parents, sat Mr. and Mrs. Cho, smiling broadly.

  Torn between anger and pain over her own parents’ betrayal, the numbness in her jaw made Ansley realize she was clenching her teeth together again. Her dentist had warned her about that. What the dentist hadn’t told her was how she was supposed to control her subconscious response when her parents were missing their only daughter’s graduation after they’d promised to be there.

  The dean held his tie out of the way and leaned over the microphone to read the name on the next diploma in the stack. “Ansley Craig.”

  Finally!

  On cue Ansley stepped forward, the mortar board balanced on her head most likely flattening the hair she’d gotten cut, highlighted and blown out early that morning.

  As she made her way down the risers and nearly tripped on her graduation gown, Ansley’s foul mood spread. Even the clothes on her back were beginning to anger her. Why did the graduates have to wear the whole cap and gown deal anyway? The cheap polyester thing was hot as hell under the May afternoon sun and it covered the new outfit she’d spent so much time choosing so she’d look nice for graduation. She’d be a hot, wrinkled mess when she took the gown off. Not that it mattered. Her parents wouldn’t see her.

  A handshake from the dean, a few photos and that was it, what she’d stood in the heat for hours for was over, and her mother and father had missed it.

  Fighting tears, Ansley clutched her diploma to her chest and walked the path toward the risers where her graduating class stood. With a quick glance to make sure no one was watching she kept walking past the risers, around the corner of the building and into the parking lot. Once out of view, she pulled off both the cap and gown and rolled the whole thing into a ball.

  She spotted Tiffany and her new Porsche convertible—a graduation gift from her parents—parked in the shade. Lucky Tiffany had gotten her diploma close to an hour ago. By the looks of her, sitting cross-legged on the hood of the car with a champagne bottle in one hand, she’d already started celebrating being done with school.

  “About time you got here. I’ve been waiting forever.” Tiffany handed her the open bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

  “Yeah, I know. I saw you sneak out.” Ansley tossed her diploma, cap and gown into the back of the car and took a swallow from the bottle Tiffany handed her. It wasn’t icy, but the alcohol was enough to quench her thirst. The bubbles slid down her throat past the lump lodged there.

  Tiffany wiped both hands on her knee-length shorts. “I’m sweating in this heat. This is barbaric. Why couldn’t they have the graduation indoors? Somewhere that it’s air conditioned.”

  As a bead of sweat rolled between her shoulder blades, Ansley shrugged. “I’m hot too and I had to stand up there while you were here in the shade drinking so stop complaining.”

  A frown creased Tiffany’s forehead. “What’s got you so bitchy? We’re done with college. It’s summer. We’re celebrating. Be happy.”

  “My parents didn’t come.” Ansley delivered the statement without any trace of the emotion she truly felt. In reality she’d been too upset when she’d found out yesterday to even tell her best friend.

  Tiffany’s brow crinkled in sympathy. “Aw, Ans. What happened? Was their flight from Italy canceled?”

  “Nope.” Ansley pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She scrolled to the text and thrust the phone at Tiffany so she could read the message that had broken her heart just twenty-four hours before.

  Can’t make it home. Got invited on the Borghese yacht. Couldn’t say no! Have fun at graduation. Have Grandma take lots of pictures. Love, Mom and Dad.

  Tiffany handed the phone back. “I’m sorry.”

  Ansley shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What about your grandmother? Won’t she wonder where you are?”

  “I don’t want to talk to her or anybody right now. We can tell both your parents and my grandmother we couldn’t find them in the crowd. I don’t know. Make something up. All I know is I need something stronger than this stuff.” She took another slug then thrust the bottle back at Tiffany. Champagne would do in a pinch, but as pissed as she was, she needed a nice big glass of vodka. Perhaps two or three.

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve already spent too much time at this school. I’m done.”

  Done. That’s exactly how Ansley felt. She was done trying to be a good student to impress parents who didn’t give a shit about her. Nearly perfect grades this semester, a community service award, a spot on the dean’s list and what did it matter? It didn’t. She shoved her sunglasses up when they began to slip down her nose.

  “Damn, there’s not even a breath of fresh air. I can’t wait until we leave for the Hamptons. There’s always a nice breeze at the beach.” Tiffany slid into the driver’s seat, still bitching about the heat. She turned the key and the powerful engine purred to life.

  The mention of getting away caught Ansley’s attention. “When are you leaving?”

  “Memorial Day weekend.” Tiffany wrinkled her nose. “The traffic is going to suck then though. I’m trying to get my parents to let me drive out early. I so don’t want to start my summer sitting in that parking lot Route 27 turns into every weekend once summer starts.”

  Anything, even traffic, sounded better than what she was supposed to do this summer. Her graduation gift was a trip to Italy to spend the summer with her parents who’d been there for the past month.

  Ansley sighed. “I wish I was going with you.”

  “So come. Oh my God, how fun would that be? You and me, out there for the entire summer. We’ll even be legal this year, so we don’t have to use fake ID to get into the clubs.”

  “I wish I could. Believe me. Italy with my parents is the absolute last thing I want right now.”

  Tiffany shot Ansley a look. “But you were really looking forward to it before.”

  “Not anymore. I’d probably just be in their way anyway.” Her parents were obviously too busy rubbing elbows with the rich and famous there to bother with her.

  “Then don’t go. You’re twenty-one now. You can do what you want.”

  Ansley let out a derisive snort. “I wish I could do what I want, but you know I can’t.”

  Not while she lived under her grandmother’s roof and thumb.

  Tiffany sighed and steered the car off school property. “I know. Why do our families still get to tell us what to do?”

  Ansley raised her brow and glanced around them. The new cars. The designer shoes and clothes. The three-hundred dollar hair salon appointments. The couple of hundred thousand for college tuition. “Um, because they have all the money and we have none.”

  “You’re right. I don’t have access to my trust fund until I’m twenty-five. What kind of bullshit is that? I mean, I could have joined the Army or gotten married at eighteen. I can legally drink at twenty-one, but I can’t spend my own money until I’m twenty-five. That sounds so old. It’s almost thirty.” Tiffany took a turn too fast and Ansley seriously hoped they’d live to be twenty-five.

  She may be a bad driver, but Tiffany was right. Being dependent on their families until they turned twenty-five sucked. Especially with parents who acted like they didn’t even have a child. All the stuff Tiffany mentioned they were allowed to do, Ansley didn’t care about. She was pretty sure there was no chance of them joining the Army ever or getting married anytime soon. They’d been sneaking liquor out of their parents’ cabinets and drinking since they were twelve s
o being legal didn’t matter. But she still needed a considerable amount of money if she wanted to move out on her own. She wasn’t willing to wait four more years until she had control of her trust fund for that to happen.

  “If I can find a job, at least I’ll have some money of my own.” And the freedom that came with it. Ansley sighed. What kind of work did she want to do though? Maybe the not-for-profit she volunteered for to get her service award would hire her for pay. Though people were far more likely to let you volunteer for jobs than pay you to do them.

  Her friend’s head whipped around. “You’re getting a job?”

  Ansley rolled her eyes. “Relax. I don’t know if I can find one in this economy. I’m not going to be able to even look before fall. Italy, remember?”

  Hopefully she’d be able to spend a week with Tiffany in the Hamptons before Labor Day, but that was it. Her entire summer had been decided for her, like it or not.

  Tiffany grinned wide. “Fuck getting a job. The only thing I’m getting is trashed and hopefully some hot sex at Bobby Briscoe’s graduation party tonight.”

  While Ansley was worrying about work, her life, her future, Tiffany wasn’t looking past that night, but maybe she was right. They had plenty of time to worry about life later. Her parents didn’t care. Why should she?

  With the wind whipping her hair, Ansley kicked off her heels and propped two pedicured feet on the dashboard. “That sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Jeremy? It’s Sheriff Mason.”

  Uh, oh. Jeremy dropped the bar rag and pressed the phone tighter against his ear so he could hear over the jukebox.

  “Sheriff. Is Ryan all right?” His mind reeled with the possible trouble his brother could have gotten into.

  This could be about anything. A bar fight. An accident. Ryan had seemed sober enough when he’d left with Rita, but who knew if they’d stopped for a few on the way back to her place. Hell. Rita could have been blowing him while he was behind the wheel and he’d crashed. Who could predict what would happen when Ryan was involved?

  “I don’t know anything about Ryan, but I’ve got Ramona here in custody.”

  “My grandmother is in custody?” Jeremy repeated the sheriff’s words, not believing what he’d heard.

  “Yeah. I’m willing to release her with a warning, but she’s had too many for me to let her drive herself home.”

  “She was driving drunk?” What the hell? She’d been sitting happily in front of the television when he’d left for his shift that night. Now he had to worry about both his brother and his grandmother getting into trouble while he was at work?

  “No, no. They weren’t driving. They were busted for assault.”

  “Excuse me?” This was getting stranger by the minute, and who the hell had the sheriff meant when he said “they”?

  “It seems one of the ladies was celebrating her sixty-fifth birthday and they decided to get her a male stripper. Things got out of hand. Apparently the ladies weren’t happy the stripper wasn’t willing to take it all off, so they helped him.”

  Holy crap. Jeremy was processing it all when the sheriff continued.

  “I’d drop her off for you, but I’m the only one on the night shift and there’s just too many for me to chauffeur them all home individually.”

  In shock, Jeremy sat down hard on a bar stool. “How many are there?”

  “Ten.”

  The vision of ten blue-haired old ladies tearing the G-string off a male exotic dancer swam in his head. He shook it out as quickly as he could. “It’s okay, sheriff. I’m just closing Hank’s place for the night now. Let me lock up and I’ll be right over to get her.”

  “Thanks, Jeremy. I appreciate it. I gotta go call the rest of the families. The noise level in here from all these women is starting to give me a headache. I took this job to get away from a cackling woman. Oh, shit. One of them is yelling she has to pee and is refusing to use the toilet in the cell. I gotta go.”

  The sheriff disconnected the call as Jeremy stood, phone in hand.

  Hell, if he had to deal with this, then Ryan sure as shit had to also. He punched the button for his brother and listened to the ringing before it went to voice mail. Disconnecting, he waited a second and then pushed the button again. Jeremy knew exactly why Ryan wasn’t answering the phone and he’d be damned if his brother got laid while he picked up their grandmother at the jailhouse after he’d already put in a long day and night of work.

  “Yeah. What?” Finally, Ryan’s breathless voice answered. The man could barely speak. He better start running or something to get into shape if a little sex had him out of breath.

  “Grams is in jail.”

  “What?”

  “She was arrested for assault.”

  “Okay, Jeremy, I know you’re mad I left and you had to work tonight, but our original plans together totally fell through so there’s no reason for you to be jealous and make shit up about Grams.”

  “I’m not making anything up. I just got off the phone with the sheriff. She’s in jail and drunk and we have to pick her up.”

  “Really? Wow. What did she… Holy mother. Oh, God...” There was some rustling then Ryan was back. “Jeremy, can’t you go get Grams? I’m a little, uh, tied up right now.”

  “Ryan, I can hear what you’re doing and you’re just gonna have to stop. I’m still at work and can’t leave.” Jeremy lied without guilt. Ryan was right. He was jealous.

  “Jeremy, I’m not kidding here. I’m literally tied up at the moment. Like with rope to the headboard. She’s holding the phone for me.” Ryan hissed in a loud breath. “And doing other things. Oh, boy…”

  Well crap. That was an image Jeremy could have lived without. What horrible deeds had he done during some past life that had saddled him with this family as punishment in this one?

  “You’re unbelievable.” He was about to launch into a lecture about responsibility when what could only be the sounds of his brother getting close to coming filled his ear. “Ah, jeez. Ryan, you fucking suck, you know that?”

  Jeremy slammed the phone shut. A sex maniac brother and a grandmother who thought she was Peter Pan and never wanted to grow up, and they were both his responsibility. Shutting off the lights and locking up the bar, Jeremy had to wonder how he had landed the role of father figure for this dysfunctional family unit.

  Lola scraped her teeth up Ryan’s length none too gently as his hands strained against the thin rope binding his wrists. The goose bumps rose on his exposed skin, making the tiny hairs on his arms and legs stand on end. He shuttered, the mixed sensation of pleasure and pain totally doing it for him. Or maybe it was the fact he was tied and helpless that had him ready to shoot off like a geyser as she repeated the action with her mouth, harder this time.

  He threw his head back against the pillow with a groan.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Mm hm.” Ryan managed to open his eyes, and found her green ones focused on him as his cock lay just beside her lips. “You are a beautiful sight like that, Lola.”

  She laughed. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  Not as many as she assumed, he was sure. He wasn’t that lucky and this was a small town with limited female resources. Ryan grinned. “But unlike tonight, I rarely mean it.”

  “Flatterer.” She moved up his belly until her mouth found his chest. She bit, hard.

  He jumped as she sucked on his skin, marking him. His eyes drifted closed again. Who knew he was so into pain mixed with his pleasure?

  Lola sat up and looked down with satisfaction at the red mark on his pectorals, which would surely be a nice bruise by tomorrow morning. “There. Now I’ve marked you so tomorrow night, when you’re fucking some young thing, you’ll have to remember me.”

  “Darlin’, I could never forget you.” Ryan smiled.

  “Let’s make sure of that, shall we?” She leaned over him, putting one heavy breast near enough to his mouth he could captur
e the nipple with his lips.

  She allowed him a moment to suckle on her before she continued to what must have been her destination in the first place—the drawer of the bedside table.

  He turned his head to try and see what was all in there. He assumed condoms, and was happy they’d moved on to the fucking portion of the evening, but there were lots of other things in there too. She pulled out a bottle of lube and a tiny silver thing that looked like an oversized bullet. Lola spread the lube on the metal until it glistened, then she gave it a twist and it began to buzz.

  “Mm. Where you putting that, darlin’?” Ryan’s cock twitched thinking about watching her pleasure herself with it.

  Lola grinned. “Bend your knees and I’ll show you.”

  His eyes flew open wide. “Uh, what?”

  She moved back down between his legs. “Trust me.”

  There was no way he was bending his knees for that thing to be shoved in his ass. He clamped his thighs tightly together, his ass cheeks too for that matter. She’d need the jaws of life to get it inside him. He tugged on the rope, wondering how much force it would take to get free.

  Lola watched his efforts. “You really that scared of trying something new?”

  “Yes!”

  She shook her head. “Hm. I guess I was wrong about you. I assumed a man of your worldly experience with sex would be into this.”

  “Why? I’m not gay.”

  Lola laughed. “Letting a me touch your ass during sex doesn’t make you gay, you idiot. But if you don’t want the best orgasm of your life, that’s fine.”

  His head spinning, Ryan sized up the object Lola still held in her hand. “That wouldn’t fit anyway.”

  Her brows rose high. “Your dick fits just fine in my ass, or have you forgotten? This is way smaller.”

  “What…” He swallowed and tried to get out his question again, not believing he was even considering this, and all the while wishing his hands were free. “What exactly does it do that makes it the best orgasm of my life?”