Mercury, Karen - The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

“Mmm-hmm.” Her pussy muscles clutched at his cock. She was strong, as though she’d been doing kegel exercises. Maybe the Ben Wa balls did help. “Horsy Style.”

  Steffen thought that was one of the Sunset Palomino Ranch menu items. He knew he wouldn’t last long, so he just threw his all into seven, eight huge swinging lunges that had the woman gasping for breath and clutching the pillow. He erupted inside her heat, splashing her cervix with his seed.

  He held himself deep inside her for a long time, relishing the way her inner pussy massaged and clutched at his prick. A shudder raced up and down his spine, jerking his cock seated deeply near her womb. On hands and knees, Willow swiveled her hips to give Steffen access to every possible angle. Finally she slumped, exhaling loudly, letting her head hang loosely. This was Steffen’s sign. When he withdrew, she collapsed on her stomach hugging the pillow.

  Her shoulders heaved, sending a stab of fear into Steffen’s chest. Was she crying? But the few sounds that escaped from her were definitely laughs. Now he was relieved.

  “Was that…” He realized he sounded corny. “Good?” Who the hell asks that?

  She rolled onto her back, her tits jiggling like water balloons. Her face was adorably puffy from her deep sleep—and what Steffen hoped was a good fuck. “Of course, silly. I wouldn’t let you take me if it wasn’t.”

  He realized that once again, they’d done it without condoms. “You have to stop letting me do this, Willow. I’m so sorry I just jumped on you without a rubber.”

  Willow made a face and imitated an equally moronic guy. “‘Oh, I’m so sorry. My penis just slipped inside you.’ Don’t worry, you gorgeous stud. I’m infertile. End of subject. If I was more worried I’d be using a sponge or whatever they use these days.”

  This brought up something that Steffen had been mulling since yesterday’s adventure, after Willow had confessed to the miscarriage. Her infertility saddened him. He wondered why. It took him several hours of tossing it around in his mind to figure out why. He wanted a child, too. And with her.

  But of course he hadn’t known her that long, so he didn’t dare bring it up in that manner. Now he said tentatively, “Are you completely certain about that? That you’re infertile? Because that would be a shame.”

  She shrugged. She looked like a veritable Venus lying back like that, one arm above her head. “I’ve gotten used to the idea. I’m thirty-two. I’ll be forty before I find anyone suitable to marry and be a father, anyway. By then it’s too late. I keep reading articles, you know. So many women postponed children in favor of careers. They’re only just now realizing you really can’t do that. Your chances of getting pregnant are cut in half every year you age, or something like that. No. I have to look on the bright side of being childless. All my time is my own, all my money is my own. Well, the money I hope to have, anyway, once the motel opens for business.”

  With that, Willow wrenched herself from the bed and padded to the bathroom.

  Steffen thought as he dressed. She obviously didn’t see him as potential husband material. He had to feel her out He had to find out if it had even entered her mind that he might be a good husband.

  So when she emerged from the bathroom and rooted around on the chair and ottoman for her clothes, Steffen asked casually, “Why would it take you another eight years to find a decent husband?”

  She stepped into her panties. Since Dobbs was still at large, Steffen hadn’t allowed her to go back to the Ocean’s 11 Room the night before, not even to get fresh clothes. He had hustled her into his truck and made a beeline for his house. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just very skeptical, as you can understand, having just gotten out of a horrible marriage. I didn’t tell you. When Ronnie busted into my office last night, I was reading my final divorce papers. Yep. They came snail.”

  That little fact cheered Steffen up. “That’s excellent, Willow. Now you’re truly a free woman.”

  She pulled her strappy dress down over her head and smirked. “Yep. Free as a bird.”

  Steffen came closer. “I didn’t mean that. Of course you’re not ‘free’ as long as you’re involved with me and Amadeo. Or Amadeo, or me separately.” He frowned, serious. “You do realize that, don’t you? I’m not going to take too kindly to coming into the Gadabout Cottage to see you with another man, you understand?”

  He couldn’t decipher her smile. But she looked down at his feet shyly. “I understand. I’m only allowed to mess around with you or Amadeo.”

  “Right. I mean, no! I mean, yes. That sounds about right. Does that bother you?”

  She looked up, and a slow smile spread over her face. “No. Doesn’t bother me at all. I kind of like it. Jealousy means that you like me.”

  Steffen scoffed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “I more than ‘like’ you, Willow.” He didn’t want to scare her away with any sappy declarations, yet he wanted her to know his intentions and rules.

  “Do you ‘more than like’ Amadeo?”

  Steffen hesitated. He’d been having the time of his life with both Willow and Amadeo, but how far could a threesome like that go? Steffen knew he wanted to be Willow’s prime, main man, so how long before Amadeo felt like a third wheel and moved on? “Yes. I more than like him, too, but in a different way. I guess my feelings for you are…romantic. I don’t feel nearly as flowery about Amadeo, but I think I’d be just as devastated if we had to stop seeing each other.”

  Willow nodded. “So it’s a manlier sort of love.”

  Steffen nodded with relief. Willow had used the word, not him. “Exactly. I love him in a manlier, maybe a more practical way.”

  Willow’s lower lip stuck out as she soaked up the information. “Good. Because I love him, too. Now, you’re going to have to let me get back to the Searchlight, Steffen. I’ll be perfectly safe there with Carl and all the workers around me. Even though it’s Saturday I don’t expect you to hang around with me, either. You must have a zillion things to do, as does Amadeo. I know he hasn’t overseen all that hay-cutting that his hands are doing, and he said they need to keep the cattle moving to greener pastures. I’m not used to things drying out in Florida, but I guess his cattle have eaten all the grass up.” She breezed back into the bathroom with her purse. She left the door open, so he guessed she was fixing her face.

  He spoke to her from the bedroom. “I’ve been wanting to get over to his ranch, to take a look at his house again. I’ve been in it several times, talking to his father. I do recall it was a great piece of mid-century styling, with post and beam construction.”

  “Like yours?”

  Steffen was impressed that Willow knew this. “Right. Only his is about four times as big as mine. This here is only eleven hundred square feet. Amadeo’s house is built around boulders and palms, like the Kupka House.”

  “Yours is cute. It’s got such an airy feeling, the way the interior walls don’t go all the way to the ceilings. How the rooflines are slanted.”

  “Three-quarter walls. I like it, but I’m not particularly attached to it.” Steffen had calculated this beforehand. He knew that if they could or wanted to make it work, the three of them, he’d move to the Lone Palm Ranch in a hot second. Amadeo’s house was a stylish oasis that would be winning awards if it wasn’t owned by an irascible, old-fashioned cowboy.

  “Are you kidding?” Willow appeared in the bathroom doorway with a mascara wand in her hand. “Not attached to it? Steffen, you’ve put your all into this place! Why, that Steve Reiner dining set alone is to die for. And all the original fixtures in such good condition! The exposed beams, the butterfly roofline, the swimming pool, and don’t get me started on those David Smock lamps in your living room!”

  Steffen puffed with pride, not only that he owned David Smock lamps, but that Willow knew what they were. He wasn’t a complete purist about his décor like so many were in the Modern Committee. He had a flat screen TV, modern appliances, and he had added solar panels and decent insulation. “Well. It’s not really family-oriented with only eleve
n hundred square feet. Most kids want their own room.”

  He hadn’t envisioned the response Willow would have to this innocent and estimable declaration. Her face fell like a shriveled apple and she looked almost about to cry. “Children, right…”

  Dear Lord, how did he manage to blow so many things? Of course Willow would be upset that he wanted children. If she really couldn’t have children, he must not be referring to her as his future wife! He raced to rectify the situation. “I mean adopted children, of course. You must have thought about that?”

  Her wrinkly face smoothed out, and she nodded. “Oh. Right. Adopted. Of course it’s occurred to me. So…you were thinking about living with me? Here?”

  Steffen grinned. “Of course it’s occurred to me.” But he didn’t want to press the point or get too heavy. “Come on. Let me take you back to the Searchlight. I’ve got to go inspect some crap that your socks-and-sandals friend has probably messed up in Rancho Mirage, but then I’ll be back at the Searchlight keeping an eye on you.”

  However, as he was locking his front door behind him, it was Willow who brought up the subject again. “Do you really think Amadeo will want to keep playing with us if he’s not allowed to fuck me? He is bi, you know.”

  “And you’re one voluptuous filly. Yeah, I suppose he’ll get frustrated eventually if I set too many hard limits on him. He’s one hell of a Dom. I suppose I’ll have to get over it eventually. I can’t say I’ll like watching it, but ideally I’ll get used to it.”

  Willow grinned at him, standing by the passenger door of his truck. “Good. Because you know I love him just as I love you. Differently, but just as strongly. Like you said. It’s more romantic with you. With Amadeo, it’s more down to earth.”

  A swell of love rushed through Steffen’s chest. “Good. My love for you is more romantic, that’s for sure. I’d never get Amadeo flowers, for example.”

  “You’ve never given me flowers.”

  “Wait half an hour and that’ll change. Get in the truck.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amadeo was surprised to find the door of the Gadabout Cottage wide open. He’d already seen Carl working on the Atomic Café’s outdoor lighting and palm thatch roof, so who was lurking around their private cottage?

  He hadn’t read the text from the cops until this morning. He’d been up since four with some hands fixing fences, so he didn’t read about Ronnie Dobbs’s truck being seen in front of the Searchlight until around ten. Of course then he’d leaped in his truck and zoomed to the motel—neither Willow nor Steffen were answering their cells.

  After Willow had vanished yesterday, Amadeo had gone back to ranching duties. He had no desire to visit the Racquet Club anymore. Why would he, when he had two play partners as good as any in that kink community? He was passionate about Steffen of course—had been for decades—and he hadn’t felt this aroused over another women for years. Willow was shapely, with a serenity about her that was necessary to run such an extensive motel operation. Things wouldn’t freak her out, like birthing lambs or having to shoot a coyote that was killing your stock.

  He realized he was already thinking of his two lovers in long-term ways. Steffen would get over his jealousy once he relaxed and started trusting Amadeo more. Amadeo knew how he would display to Steffen that he was trustworthy. His devious plans had to do with the St. Andrew’s Cross they hadn’t made use of yet. If he would volunteer to be shackled to the cross at Steffen’s beck and call, Steffen would learn to trust him. It was a perfect plan.

  Amadeo approached the cottage warily, his hand on the pistol in his hip holster. He had decided to pack even when he wasn’t on his ranch, thanks to that doofus Ronnie Dobbs running around stalking Willow for a stupid wristwatch. Peeking around the corner of the cottage’s door, Amadeo saw a blonde fellow in filthy jeans with a tool belt on. His back was to Amadeo as he fussed around with something near the St. Andrew’s Cross. Amadeo drew the pistol and cocked the hammer.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  The fellow twirled around, a look of complete horror on his face. He had one of those beet-red faces that looked to be caused by skiing but was probably due to acute alcoholism, drugs, or both. The guy held up his hands as though accustomed to being arrested, and came toward Amadeo. “Chas White, the contractor here, El Mirador Construction. I was just checking on the, uh, the—”

  Amadeo holstered his weapon. “Never mind. I know who you are. Just never seen you before. I’m Amadeo Barbieri of—”

  “Lone Palm Ranch, right! Right, right, I’ve been meaning to meet with you about that punch list for the tack room. I had some great ideas. You know how the ceiling joists—”

  Drugs and alcohol were responsible for Chas White’s shoddy work as well as his face. His teeth had that rotten, twisted characteristic of the chronic meth-head. “That’s fine.” Amadeo interrupted Chas because Steffen and Willow were coming down the pathway. “Look, I’ve got to talk to my friends about some urgent matters. Will you be answering your cell in, say, two hours?”

  “Sure will! Miss Paige wanted to talk about something with me, too—oh!”

  When Miss Paige saw Amadeo she broke into a run, dropping the enormous bag she always carried on one shoulder. She flung her arms around his neck as though she hadn’t seen him in a month, peppering his mouth with little kisses. She pushed him into the cottage, Steffen presumably following, because Amadeo heard someone slam the door.

  “Oh, Amadeo, I missed you so much!”

  Amadeo held her wrists and drew back to examine her. Was she doing some of Chas White’s drugs? “I’m so glad you’re fine, Willow! I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t get out here sooner, but I didn’t get Officer Tony’s text until ten this morning. My bad. I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus, honestly, I didn’t.”

  Willow seemed happy enough. “It’s all right. Steffen here was manly and saved me. And Officer Tony, too, of course.”

  “Okay,” said Amadeo. “But Dobbs is still at large. Tell me exactly what happened with Dobbs.”

  So they sat on the burnt orange couches and explained what Dobbs had done. Willow had a bandage on her neck where Dobbs had cut her, so they explained how he’d gagged her and was walking her to the cottage. She had hoped to pawn off a generic leather wrist cuff on him because he didn’t seem to know exactly what he was looking for.

  Willow said, “Not after rambling on about Scott Baio’s paper towel holder and Erik Estrada’s socks.”

  “That’s off the hook!” cried Amadeo. “How the hell would anyone believe any socks belonged to Erik Estrada?”

  “Exactly!” said Willow. “Dobbs is just a shitastic turkey, that’s all.”

  “And a David Soul album?” Amadeo wrinkled his face with disbelief. “That probably goes for about ten bucks on eBay. Ridiculous!”

  “The guy is one sandwich short of a picnic,” Steffen agreed. “But how do we keep Willow safe while he’s off the grid? I talked to Tony just now. No Dobbs at his house in Beaumont, of course. They’ve got the place staked out, but he’s smart enough not to go home.”

  “Right,” said Amadeo. “I think it’s just a matter of time before he does some new asinine thing, like kill himself while deep-frying a frozen turkey.”

  “Or climbing into a wine fermentation vat to get drunk,” Willow added.

  Amadeo stood and held out his hands. He was in control of the situation. “Listen. I’m a cowboy. I’m going to pack this gun no matter where I go, you hear? And I’m not leaving your fucking side until Dobbs is caught. I can help Carl or Chas or whoever’s working on the Atomic Café so I’m not completely useless. I’ve got plenty of hands at the ranch to fix fences and move the cattle to other pastures. I see you’ve got a pistol, too, Steffen. Good.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” agreed Steffen. “I doubt Dobbs could get any firearms legally with such an extensive record, but you never know. The black market abounds with them, and any criminal can get one.”

  Amadeo locked the cottag
e door and let down a blind. It looked as though all the blinds had been hung, and the horizontal slats of sun streaming onto the carpet did give the room a fifties ambiance. “For now, I’ve got a plan. A plan I think might help you trust me more, Steffen.”

  Steffen said, “You mean trust you around my girlfriend.”

  “Exactly. I’m going to let you shackle me to that St. Andrew’s Cross. Have your way with me. My wrists will be shackled, so I can’t touch Willow. You can let us get as close as you want, or not. Here. I found this the other day.” He handed Steffen a finely sanded wooden paddle he’d found in the Cesar Romero Room. He had stashed it in one of the cottage’s kitchen drawers, safe from Ronnie Dobbs and his penchant for bondage memorabilia. He stripped off his shirt and white wifebeater because he knew his hairless chest turned on both Steffen and Willow. She was sitting on her feet on the couch, having kicked off her shoes, and her eyes shined with excitement.

  “Okay. Buckle me in.” Amadeo stood on the footboard of the cross, fitting his wrists into the suspension cuffs someone had been kind enough to bolt to the cross.

  “But your shoes are on,” Willow complained. “As macho as I think cowboy boots look.”

  “That’s okay. You want to see me in my chaps, don’t you?”

  Steffen answered quickly as he buckled Amadeo’s wrists, “Of course. Nothing more stimulating than a stud muffin cowboy naked except for boots and chaps.”

  “Ooh, I’ve got an idea.” Having finished cinching his ankles, Willow went to the kitchenette and came back with a bottle of olive oil. She hesitated, though, looking at his naked torso. “Steffen. May I?”

  Steffen had to think about it for a few seconds. He nodded to Willow. He could only do a couple of things at once, and oiling up Amadeo’s torso wasn’t one of them.

  “Ooh, yes,” she said excitedly as she dribbled a line of oil across his pecs. Her hand felt heavenly as she rubbed his smooth chest. She didn’t ignore his armpits, where he was a bit ticklish, and her oily hand followed the line of hair that arrowed toward his pubic bone. That was when Steffen snatched her hand away. He wanted to unbuckle the belt himself.