by Tyler, Paige
“Whereas I'm a sucker for a perfect ass,” Beau said. “And yours is absolutely perfect. My obsession isn’t anything I feel I need to apologize for. It's just the way I'm wired. Doesn't mean Sawyer and I don't appreciate your other feminine attributes. Like your pert breasts and long, silky hair. It just means we have a fondness for certain parts of your body—sort of like having a hankering for apple pie over pecan. Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with pecan, but given my druthers…”
“You'd rather feast on my apples.” Daisy laughed, not quite sure what the apple analogy said about her ass.
The two men chuckled.
“Something like that,” Sawyer said.
He motioned to a passing waitress, and pointed at Daisy’s almost empty bottle. How did guys get waitresses to see them when they did that? She could never get anyone's attention in a crowded place.
“You two aren't planning on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me, are you?” she teased.
“Can't speak for Beau, but I’d prefer for you to be sober, so that we can properly take advantage of each other.” Sawyer’s blue eyes twinkled. “Much more fun that way.”
Daisy opened her mouth to ask him specifically what kind of things he’d like her to be sober for, but just then three women walked by. They gave both men the eye, but moved on without stopping. Daisy frowned as she realized several other women were looking in their direction as well. She’d better decide what she was going to do with Sawyer and Beau before some buckle bunny tried to move in on these two. Daisy’d never had a problem with the groupies who hung around so they could hook up with the rodeo riders. She thought cowboys were pretty damn hot, too. Her only gripe was that there never seemed to be as many attractive male groupies as there were of the female variety. The world was cosmically unfair, even on the circuit.
At that particular moment, however, she wasn't as accepting of buckle bunnies as she was at other times. Right now, she was feeling rather possessive of her two hunky cowboys, especially since she hadn't decided which one she was going to sleep with tonight.
“Something catch your eye, Daisy?” Beau asked.
“I couldn't help but notice that there are an awful lot of buckle bunnies here tonight.” She gave the men a coy look. “Hope you two don't mind wasting your time standing here talking to me?”
Sawyer shook his head. “Don't think I call talking to you a waste of time. You have that sexy kind of voice I could listen to all night. What about you, Beau?”
“Oh, hell yeah.” His eyes smoldered. “I'd listen to just about any sound you'd care to make, Daisy, any sound at all. In fact, why don't we go someplace that isn't quite so loud so we can talk or…whatever?”
Her pulse broke into a gallop. Maybe Beau was going to step up and make her decision for her. “What do you have in mind?”
Beau smiled. “I was thinking about the restaurant on the other side of the lobby. I could use something to eat, and it's definitely quieter there.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sawyer agreed. “I'm starving.”
What the hell? The conversation had moved so fast she felt like she had whiplash. She thought one of them had been about to ask her to come up to their room for the night. Now they wanted to have a late dinner?
Beau took her hand and tugged her off the stool. She went willingly, if for no other reason than to see where this was going.
Daisy heard a whoop as they left, and she turned to see Britt’s chosen bull buster carrying her piggy-back style out the other door. Britt was laughing and swatting Clay’s ass with her hat, telling him to “git along little dogie.” Daisy laughed. Obviously, her friend had found that cowboy to help take off her boots. And everything else, too.
As Beau had promised, the restaurant was a lot quieter than the bar. More private, too, thanks to the mood lighting and heavy fabric draping the booths. Daisy had eaten there a couple times already. It was good, but pricey.
The hostess led them to booth in the back. Sawyer and Beau waited for her to pick a side. Daisy slid in, slightly disappointed when both men decided to sit down opposite her. She'd hoped one of them would slide in beside her.
Sawyer ordered her another Bud Light for her before she could ask. When the waitress brought it to the table, she let it sit there. She'd had enough alcohol for a while.
The men barely looked at the menus before ordering Kansas City strip steaks—rare. Figured. Cowboys and steaks went together like milk and cookies.
Daisy wasn't really hungry—for food anyway. But she didn't want to sit there and stare at them while they ate, so she ordered a plate of nachos. That way, she could nibble.
After the waitress left, Daisy leaned back and regarded her two men. “Okay, we found a place that’s not as loud as the bar. What exactly did you want to talk about?”
Beau’s eyes held hers. “About getting you naked later and spending the evening make you moan and scream.”
That made both her brows and her blood pressure rise. That was what she'd been looking for. She just couldn't believe Beau had said what he'd said right in front of Sawyer.
But Sawyer didn’t even bat an eye.
“So Daisy, would you describe yourself as a moaner or a screamer?” he asked so casually the three of them might have been taking about a rodeo event.
Actually, now that she thought about it, she was starting to feel like this was a rodeo event—team roping. And Sawyer and Beau were in the process of roping her up and taking her down like a well-oiled team.
Chapter Two
Daisy sipped her beer, deliberately wrapping her mouth around the opening of the bottle. When she was done, she slowly licked her lips, then set down the bottle with a sultry look.
“I tend to be a moaner, I guess,” she said, finally answering their question. “Unless the guy I'm with is exceptionally good, that is.”
“What make a man exceptional in your eyes?” Sawyer asked.
“Or exceptional in your bed?” Beau asked.
Both men settled back, their long legs brushing against hers as they got comfortable. The innocent—or maybe not so innocent—move made her warm all over.
“It's not anything specific,” she said. “I mean it's not like I look for a certain size cock, or like to do it in a particular sexual position.”
She glanced around the restaurant. The booth they were in was situated in such a way that it would be difficult for anyone to see under the table. Unless they knelt down, of course. But why would anyone do that? She carefully kicked off her boots under the table. It wasn't that hard. Her boots were her prized possession and cost more than all the jewelry and fancy dresses she owned combined. They fit like fine gloves, but slid on and off like a pair of fur-lined slippers. They were so comfy she never even wore socks with them, which was—in her opinion—the sign of a perfect pair of boots.
“I just need a man who's confident and knows how to touch a woman the way she wants to be touched.”
“And is there a particular way you like to be touched?” Beau questioned.
How had this turned into her talking and them listening? It was supposed to be the other way around.
As Daisy pondered the turnabout, she settled a bare foot in each man's lap before they even knew what she was up to.
To their credit, they didn't even blink, not even when she started to slowly rub the ball of each foot against the sizeable bulges in their jeans.
“We'll get around to how I like to be touched later.” She smiled. “Right now, why don't I just sit here and…well, do what I'm doing…while you two tell me how you want to touch me. Remember, I said I like a man who's confident.”
She put a little more pressure against each of their cocks, rotating her feet in slow circles. Men had told her before that her toes were very dexterous. Sawyer and Beau seemed to think so—or at least the cocks did. Their erections had practically doubled.
“You don't mind if I just sit here and focus on what I'm doing while you two talk, do you?”
&
nbsp; Both men murmured they were fine with that plan, though they looked around the restaurant to see if anyone had a clue as to what was going on. Daisy did a quick survey of the other tables. No one was paying attention.
“Let’s start with you, Sawyer,” she said. “You mentioned you like my legs. I don't remember you ever even seeing my legs, except in jeans. I'd love to hear where your fascination with them comes from. And what you have in mind for them.”
Daisy did little, rhythmic scrunches with her toes against the material of their jeans, like she was massaging them. She could feel the outline of their shafts quite clearly under her tootsies, and figured it was better than even odds that both men weren't wearing any underwear under those jeans. Two hunky cowboys with incredible bodies, clearly impressive cocks, a penchant for talking dirty, and who went commando? It was going to dang near impossible deciding between them.
But she didn't have to make that decision yet. Right now, all she had to do was play with their cocks and listen to those sinfully arousing voices of theirs.
“I doubt you remember it, Daisy,” Sawyer said in that sexy drawl of his. His tone was so firm and controlled it was hard to believe she was giving him a foot job under the table. “But back in July, at the Jubilee Days Rodeo in Laramie, you showed up on the steps of the registration office that first day wearing a yellow sundress and a pair of cowboy boots. I was sitting on the grass outside filling out my form, and when I raised my head, there you were perfectly silhouetted by the setting sun. The dress was pretty thin, and with the sun shining through it and the breeze pushing it up against you? Well, let me just say, it didn't leave much to the imagination. I could see every line and shadow from the tops of your boots to the junction of your thighs.” He swigged his beer. “It may have been a trick of the light, but I swore I could see the color of those barely-there panties you were wearing. They were pink—the most perfect, soft pink I’d ever seen.”
Sawyer stared down at the table, as if reliving the moment. When he lifted his head, again, his eyes were filled with what could only be called awe. “Daisy, no bullshit—that was the most beautiful moment in my life, and I take it as proof that Heaven must exist.”
Okay, that left her completely speechless—and somewhat taken aback. She actually felt the heat rising to her face at learning she’d been part of such a moving tableau for a man without even knowing it. And while she didn’t remember seeing him that day, she did recall wearing that dress. And yes, she usually wore light pink panties with it. Clearly, the material was thinner than she'd thought.
“He's been obsessed with those legs of yours ever since.” Beau’s deep voice made her jump. “Talks about them all the time.”
Sawyer shrugged. “What can I say? They're perfect.”
Daisy’s color deepened. No pressure there, huh? She supposed her legs were okay. Years of riding saw to that. But she doubted they were perfect—whatever that actually meant. It was nice to know a stud like Sawyer worshipped them, though—even if he hadn't ever seen them for real.
“That’s quite a compliment.” Her voice sounded huskier than normal and she cleared her throat. “Let’s assume—just for the heck of it—you and I end up in bed tonight, Sawyer. What would you do with these legs that you so adore, given the chance?”
As he opened his mouth to reply, Daisy started rubbing her big toe right up and down the center of Sawyer's shaft. She wasn't doing the same to Beau, so he had no idea why his friend didn’t answer. If he had, he probably would have been jealous. But he'd get his later. Right now, she was busy with Sawyer.
She wondered if her toes were nimble enough to undo the buttons on his 501s. All it would take was one or two of them and she'd be able to slip her tootsies right in there.
“Something tells me you like to have a man pay attention to your feet,” Sawyer said. “Is that right, Daisy?”
Well, dang. Sawyer got himself together surprisingly quickly. Maybe her toes weren’t as devastating as she thought.
Or maybe Sawyer was one hell of a disciplined man.
“I think we can assume that's correct,” Beau answered for her.
Daisy rewarded him for his perceptiveness by giving him an extra firm rub with the bottom of her foot. He shifted in his seat, grinding against her. Could she actually make either man come just from doing what she was doing?
“Have you ever had a man give you a real foot massage, Daisy?” Sawyer asked.
Daisy could only shake her head. How the heck had he known she liked to have her feet touched? Or that they were one of the most erogenous parts of her body? The thought of lying back on the bed while Sawyer rubbed her feet was enough to made her little kitty purr with contentment.
“No, I haven't, but it sounds like fun.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you offering?"
“Damn right.” He glanced down pointedly at her foot nestled in his crotch. “As far as I’m concerned, your feet are just as perfect as your legs.”
“Amen to that,” Beau groaned.
She thanked them for the compliment by wrapping her toes around their bulging erections and giving them a squeeze.
“Before I say yes to a foot massage, I want to know how good you are at giving one, Sawyer.”
He chuckled, low and sexy. “So good I can make you moan.”
She lifted a brow. “You really think you can make me moan simply from a foot massage?”
“I have very good hands.”
“Uh-huh.”
His mouth quirked. “Is that a dare?”
The sudden heat in his eyes made it hard to breathe. “No, I’m just saying…”
The rest of what she’d been going to say trailed off as Sawyer reached down and grabbed her foot where it rested in his lap and started rubbing.
Daisy caught her breath. Oh dang, that felt good. No, it felt better than good. It felt fantastic. So fantastic she found it impossible to keep massaging Beau with her other foot. She felt terrible about it, but her muscles refused to listen to her head.
Sawyer slowly and firmly ran the tip of one thumb over her heel, then along the inside of her arch, before finally moving up to the ball of her foot. He dawdled there, rhythmically digging his fingers into the muscles between her toes.
She had no clue a foot rub could feel like this. She bit her lip to stifle that moan Sawyer had mentioned.
Movement out of the corner of her eye abruptly caught her attention, and she turned to see the waitress approaching their table with a tray loaded with plates.
Daisy shook herself and sat up. She would have pulled her feet off the guys’ laps, too, but they wouldn't let her. She gave them a sharp look. Didn’t they realize the waitress could see them? But Sawyer and Beau simply sat there calmly.
The woman plunked the plate of nachos down in front of her. “Anything else?”
“No, thanks,” Daisy said quickly. “I'm fine.”
The waitress winked at her. “I bet you are.”
Oh God, the waitress had seen what she was doing. Heat suffused Daisy’s face.
At least Sawyer waited until the woman was gone before he started rubbing her foot again.
Daisy looked around, sure the whole restaurant was watching them now. But no one was paying any attention to them at all. She tried to focus on her cheese-covered chips, but Sawyers hands made that impossible. The fingers of one hand pressed firmly into the bottom of her foot, while the other slid under the cuff of her jeans and massaged her calf.
She moaned. Just a little, but she couldn't help herself.
To her dismay, Sawyer immediately stopped and released her foot.
She stared at him. “Why'd you stop?”
He shrugged. “You wondered if I could make you moan by giving you a foot rub. You moaned.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “The idea was to give you a little taste—not the whole treat. You want more, you'll have to wait until later. Besides, I figured you might get a tad embarrassed if the whole restaurant turned to see wh
y you were pulling a Meg Ryan in the middle of dinner.”
Her face colored again. She let out an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. I concede on that point. You have magical hands.” She unearthed a chip from the stack. “You've only told me what you have planned for my feet. I have a lot of other body parts that need attention. What about them?”
Sawyer’s mouth quirked as he picked up his knife and fork. “Can I tell you while we eat?”
She smiled. “A man who’s good at multi-tasking. I like it.”
Watching the men dig into their steaks made Daisy realize she was a lot hungrier than she'd thought. Sawyer and Beau must have seen the look of longing on her face because they took turns feeding her little pieces of steak off their forks. It was very sweet, and kind of romantic. More than a few women in the restaurant threw her jealous glances.
“First,” Sawyer drawled, “I’d slowly kiss, nibble and lick my way up your legs from your toes to the junction of your thighs until I got to that sweet pussy of yours.”
Heat pooled between her legs at the image, and she squirmed in the seat, wiggling her toes against the men’s jean-clad cocks. Sawyer and Beau reached down to rub the tops of her feet. She'd long since given up on the notion that she might make them come. Though she had no doubt they both loved what she was doing, they treated it more like a relaxing back massage. Enjoyable? Yes. Orgasm-inducing? Not so much.
A naughty, little voice whispered in her ear that both men could probably go half the night without popping off—no matter what she did. Rather than be disappointed, she was intrigued. How much stamina did they have?
The fact that she kept thinking about everything in terms of they and them was a bit disconcerting. How was she supposed to figure out which one she was going to sleep with tonight if they both kept being so perfect?
It wasn't as if she could bed both of them.
If she was forced to choose at that very second, it was going to be hard to not take Sawyer. The guy had just about talked her panties off—or at least gotten them extremely wet.