Love Under Two Responders [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

“I’m not going through that without the two of you.” The idea of having their child—their children—added a shading to her arousal that touched something deep inside of her, something uniquely feminine.

  Edward stroked his hand down her back. She felt the trembling. I’m not the only one who feels that secret longing in a deeply personal way.

  “That’s exactly how much we love you and exactly why we care so much. There’s no one else for us, Carol. You’re ours and we’re yours.” He eased out just a bit, and then pushed in again. “I’m trying so hard to be gentle.”

  “I won’t break.” More than sex. Maybe even more than love. Carol felt connected to these men, and in a heartbeat she imagined the emotions tying them together maturing and lasting a lifetime, just a shiver of a vision, and then it was gone. But it was enough for her to grasp the importance of their need to protect, to nurture, to care for her.

  She inhaled deeply, then laid her cheek on Warren’s chest. She nuzzled him, and then exhaled, consciously releasing the last bit of control she’d kept—willing her muscles to let go.

  “Yes, baby. Yes.” Edward pushed and his cock slid into her all the way. She felt his scrotum brush the bottom of her cunt.

  “I love you,” she said. “I love you and I trust you and I’m going to try not to push…at least not tonight.”

  She felt the vibrations that told her both men were laughing. Her smile widened. In all the books she’d ever read, she’d never gotten the impression that making love was a comedy routine. And yet, it was so uniquely them.

  “You really are perfect for us.” Edward leaned over and kissed her shoulder again. “Okay, beautiful, I am going to fuck this luscious ass of yours. If it hurts, if you need me to stop, you need to say it loud and clear, do you understand? It would devastate me to hurt you.”

  “I understand, darling. Fuck me, please.”

  Edward moved, withdrawing his cock almost all the way out of her, and then pushing into her again. She felt the carefulness of his strokes, and she felt the deeply erotic thrill of the motions. The friction of his shaft against her puckered flesh sent a million little electric-like shocks zinging all over her body. Hot, exciting, his in-and-out motions thrilled her and warmed her and made her want to push back, push back and race for the prize. But she stayed still, she breathed deeply, and she let him take her.

  “Hmm?”

  “Good, so good.” Carol rubbed her face on Warren’s chest, grateful for his strength, not just the physical but the way he held silent, stroked her arms and her hair, and let her and Edward have this loving.

  “I’m not going to last much longer. You’re so damn good, baby. Better than anything…oh, baby.”

  Edward increased his pace, and Warren reached down her body, his fingers seeking, and finding her clit.

  “You’re sopping wet, Carol. You want to come with him, don’t you? You want to come with Ed.”

  “Yes…I need…” Her breath hitched as Edward began to thrust hard and fast and deep. Her own arousal began to swirl and climb, and for once she couldn’t reach it or help it or even hold it back. For once, very much like the first time, she imagined her arousal as a living, breathing entity intent on achieving its own satisfaction.

  “Then come, baby. Come for all of us.” Warren tweaked her clit, his finger encircling it with faster and even faster strokes.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m coming!” Unable to stop herself, Carol slammed her hips back toward Edward’s thrusting cock, her orgasm a flood of sensation so thrilling she could only accept it, only let it take her and tumble her, with wave after wave of pleasure. She came and she came and she knew that nothing would ever be better than this, what they had and what they were, the three of them, together.

  Chapter 17

  Warren continued to review the call logs for the last couple of days. It had been a quiet Thursday so far, and that was good. Some days they didn’t receive a single call, and some they had two or three.

  It was definitely different being assigned to a more rural station as opposed to being stationed in a big city, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Things got exciting enough from time to time when major events happened, either close to home or further afield.

  Fuck exciting. Exciting meant that some asshole was taking potshots at my brother.

  Warren closed his eyes and focused on finding his calm center. He was very good at doing that, at not letting the sense of responsibility, the sense of being the caretaker, overrule his reason or his peace.

  But there had been no news so far about whoever was stalking Ed. Warren had no doubt whatsoever. He knew that someone was after his brother. Push it down, push it back. Breathe deep. He opened his eyes. There, that was better.

  He sensed a presence and looked toward the doorway. Damn, that man is big. He took most of the area of the door frame, yet there wasn’t any fat on him at all.

  Grant Jessop was just built large.

  “We just got a call in from dispatch, verified,” Grant said. “There’s been an accident on a farm ten miles north of Gatesville. Elderly couple runs it. The husband’s hurt his hand and the wife can’t drive.”

  Warren looked over at Grant, and then got to his feet. “Do you have the coordinates?”

  “Yes, I’ve already sent them to your unit’s GPS.”

  Ed had gotten to his feet, too, and was checking his cell phone. “How come my phone didn’t go off?”

  Warren looked over at Grant and raised one eyebrow. Technically, Grant was their boss and it was up to him to inform Ed of the new operating protocols—that is, new protocols until the detectives got to the bottom of who tried to kill his little brother.

  “I’m having all calls come directly to me. That way, I can verify them. Yes, I know that means we waste a couple of minutes. Live with it.”

  Ed shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Gee, paranoid much?”

  “Not at all. Those weren’t imaginary bullets flying our way the other day, cousin.”

  Ed shrugged. “Okay. But I’ve already assured Carol that it was a one-off incident, some drunken farmer thinking we were game.”

  “She bought that line of crap?” Grant asked.

  “No,” Warren said. “But she pretended to and sometimes, that’s just as good.”

  “Hell, man, you learn fast,” Grant said.

  “Bet your ass.” Warren met Ed’s gaze. “Come on, little brother. Let’s go take care of this call.”

  “I don’t see why I wasn’t informed about the change in procedure,” Ed said.

  Warren grinned. “Take that up with Grant. I only found out about it this morning. Then I got busy and forgot about it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Yeah,” Warren said. “Pretty much.” Warren exhaled. “You would have bitched about it, hating that our rendering aid would be delayed even ten seconds out of consideration for your safety.”

  “And you wouldn’t if the situation was reversed?”

  “Hell, yes. But it’s not. Deal with it.”

  It took Warren about fifteen minutes to reach the address they’d been given. As he turned into the driveway, the white pickup that had been behind them since they pulled out onto the state highway drove past without slowing down more than necessary to pass them.

  The name on the mailbox was Gill. They soon learned that Peter Gill, a man older than his own fathers, was apparently working the land on his own now that his sons had gone off to Dallas—one to be a lawyer and the other to sell real estate.

  Gill’s wife, Edna, was the kind of no-nonsense Texan farm wife the area proudly boasted. She was kneeling beside her husband on the front porch, her portable phone on the floor beside her. She had her husband’s hand wrapped in what appeared to be a tea towel, tight enough to stem the bleeding. She cradled his hand against her chest, keeping it above his heart.

  “Damn fool, I told him not to try and work that barbed wire all on his own. Our grandson comes out on weekends and helps with the difficult jobs. But
no, you had to try and do it yourself. Now just look at you.” A single tear ran down her wrinkled cheek.

  “Don’t fuss,” Mr. Gill said. Warren thought the words sounded slurred slightly.

  They took the man’s vitals and applied a tourniquet to his wrist before unwrapping the wound to see the damage for themselves. His age, and the fact that he seemed to be drifting toward shock made their decision for them—a decision that was seconded by the medical staff at the hospital in Waco when Edward called it in.

  “Damnation, I don’t need no hospital. Just give me a needle and thread, I can stitch myself up. Hospital’ll charge me an arm and a leg.”

  “You hush up. You’re going and that’s that. Even I can see the damage is more than a simple needle and thread can mend. We have insurance. This is what we have it for.”

  “Bossy woman.” The tone didn’t match the words. They sounded like a sweet endearment to Warren.

  “Old fool.” Edna caressed his thinning, white hair.

  “Ma’am, there’s room in our vehicle if you want to come along? We’ll see to it you can get home again.”

  “Just let me go lock up the house.”

  By the time they loaded Peter into the back of their van, and installed Edna in the front passenger seat, they’d started an IV drip on their patient and had administered a very mild sedative, just enough to ease the pain from Peter’s mangled left hand.

  “He’ll be kicking hisself when he wakes up,” Edna said. “And then thanking the Good Lord it was his left hand and not his right.”

  It bothered Warren that the elderly farmer had to wait for the help of a grandson on weekends to do the work of farming. Times were still tight for folks. Texans tended to just accept the challenges, and then roll up their sleeves.

  He thought of the way Carol had characterized why Ed was having such a hard time dealing with the loss of Joey Davies. There’d been no doubt in his mind that the sense of responsibility Ed felt was the center of it all. He, himself, knew that feeling well. In fact, it gave him an idea and prompted his next words.

  “The Lusty High School has an apprenticeship program,” Warren said. “If you and your husband register with them, the school would send out a senior student or two a couple of days a week to help around and learn the art of farming. It’s one of those win-win propositions. The students win because they learn not only how to farm, but they inevitably learn the history of where they’re working. And the farmer gets free help.”

  Edna nodded. “I’ll tell him about the program. He’s a prideful man, but if I put it to him like he’s giving a helping hand instead of receiving one, he may go for it.”

  “I could have the principal of the school pay your husband a visit. He’s a cousin of mine. Luke Parker would make it seem as if your husband would be making a real difference for the kids—and hey, the truth is, he would be.”

  “That’s kind of you. Y’all go to a lot of trouble for folks you don’t even know.”

  Warren grinned. “We know you now—and it really would be a help. Sometimes, they don’t have enough sponsors for the students to get the real-life experience they need.”

  Edna looked out the window for a moment. “Any of those students wanting to be farmers’ wives?” She shrugged. “Arthritis is a pain, and some days just doing what needs to be done is difficult. I’m prideful, too, but I love my husband more than I love my pride. If he sees me taking on an assistant, it’ll coax him some.”

  “I do believe there is a program of community service,” Warren said. “Every student needs to accumulate a certain number of volunteer hours in order to graduate. And I happen to know that some young women still aspire to be homemakers.”

  Edna gave him a sly grin. “My daughter-in-law says I’m a ‘domestic goddess.’”

  Warren laughed. “Yes, ma’am, I do believe that you are.”

  He kept up light conversation as he made his way to the ER department at Providence Healthcare Center in Waco. But he’d also kept his attention on the road ahead of them—and behind them. If he hadn’t been looking, he likely would have missed the white pickup truck.

  If he hadn’t been on a call, with an injured, elderly man in the back, Warren would have played tag with the driver of that truck. He was pretty certain it was the same truck that had been behind them on the way to the Gill farm. He tried to get a read on the plate but that was impossible.

  “Do you think he’s going to be all right?”

  Warren turned his attention back to his passenger. He guessed Mrs. Gill felt comfortable enough with him that she didn’t mind showing her vulnerability to him, a little.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. But maybe he needs to take on a bit more help, on a permanent basis.”

  “I’ve been trying to find a way to get him to consider that,” she said. “Peter’s only ever been a farmer, all his life. He told me once that it was as much of a calling as being a minister, or a doctor.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I believe it is at that.” Warren believed very strongly that everyone had a talent, something they were called to do that was special, and meant for them. Some people never found their niche in life.

  He always considered himself and his brother both very lucky that they’d discovered theirs.

  The staff was waiting for them. There was a female volunteer there to help Mrs. Gill get settled. He gave the woman his card and told her to call him when Mrs. Gill was ready to leave. He wouldn’t be the one, necessarily, to see her home. But they had friends in Waco who would do that for them.

  He caught up with Ed and Mr. Gill as his brother gave the doctors a rundown of the patient’s vitals, the condition in which they’d found him, and a recitation of the treatment given.

  There were the necessary forms to fill out, of course. They also took the time to replenish the supplies they’d used.

  Warren found Mrs. Gill sitting by her husband’s side in the exam room. They would be taking Peter in to surgery within the hour, and while he was sedated, she was not.

  “Do you want me to call someone for you?”

  “That nice young woman, Paige, called my boy for me. I brought my cell phone, but not my glasses.” She shook her head. “Jon will be here in a couple of hours. Thank you, both of you, for your care today.” She patted his face and said, “You’re a good boy. Your momma must be proud.”

  Warren grinned. “Yes, ma’am, I believe she is.”

  They said good-bye to the pair, and Warren made a note to follow up with Luke—for both of the Gills. School was back in session again, and he thought the fall placements would be beginning soon.

  They stepped out into the late-afternoon sun. A few fluffy clouds dotted the blue sky, and the sun beat down with fervent intensity. The heat of Texas in the summer was something he’d lived with all his life. For the most part, he could adjust. Air-conditioning was so common and almost everywhere, and that helped. He knew of some people—not many, but some—who hated the heat. He didn’t think he hated it and he for sure never had any desire to live anywhere else.

  He and Ed had gone to Colorado once just before Christmas, mostly for shits and giggles. That snow had been damn cold, and he’d been glad to come back to his Central Texas home.

  “All this talk about that shooter has made me edgy—and itchy.” Ed hoisted his bag on his shoulder and headed toward their vehicle.

  “How so?”

  “I’ve felt like someone was watching me—both earlier, at the Gill farm—and here, when we stepped outside.”

  Warren immediately looked around, his eyes scanning for a white pickup truck.

  “I looked already. I couldn’t see anyone.”

  “White Chevy half ton,” Warren said.

  Ed looked at him. “Yeah. I think there was one. Parked over there. But he left just after we came out, why?”

  “I think he was following us today. Get in.” He watched as his brother got into the truck. He scanned the lot, and then got into the driver’s side. Before he started the vehic
le, he called Adam Kendall.

  Warren Jessop was getting awfully tired of letting things just happen to them. He wanted a meeting with those detectives. He wanted to know what the hell they were doing about finding the nut case that was stalking his brother, and he wanted to know now.

  * * * *

  Carol took the peach cobbler out of the oven and set it on a hot plate to let it cool. The two detectives and Emily Anne would be arriving shortly. She knew the get-together this evening wasn’t completely a social event. When they’d picked her up from work that afternoon, they told her about their emergency call, and about being followed. And then they’d told her that the detectives had already been looking into the matter, because no one had actually believed that Edward had been a random target.

  She confessed that she hadn’t believed it, either.

  The sound of the door opening and voices made her stomach flutter. Oh, not because they were receiving guests, even if it was a first. No, she was worried about what these men might have to say.

  She was terrified for Edward, but certainly didn’t want him to know that.

  Carol had suggested they meet in the kitchen over dessert and coffee. Instead of using the single-cup maker, she’d used the larger drip coffeemaker. The coffee had just finished brewing, and scent of it mixed with the sweet smell of peach cobbler filled the air.

  It didn’t take long for everyone to get seated. Warren had suggested that since she’d gone to the trouble to make the dessert, she should sit and be served.

  “Wasn’t any trouble,” Carol said. “I found the easiest recipe ever.”

  “It smells great,” Emily Anne said. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  Once everyone was sitting and served, Warren said, “Have you made any progress?”

  “Some.” Connor had set his briefcase on the floor beside his chair, and he took just a moment—after licking his fork really well—to open it and pull out a few forms.

  “We’ve located the wrecking yard where the bumper came from.”

  Carol looked at her men. “What bumper?”