“You can wear as many clothes as you want, sweetheart.” Dono busied himself placing the chairs.
“Given your sweet-ass luck at cards, you would say that,” Dash fired back. Quickly, he set out the plates, then the glasses of milk while Dono shot a frown at him, but said nothing.
Pivoting, Dash presented a formal posture. “May I seat you, Princess Kylie?”
She hesitated a fraction of an instant before walking toward Dash. “You may, handsome cowboy prince.”
The sway of her hips trapped Dillon’s gaze, and he knew why men fist-pummeled each other over a woman. Hell, what was he going to do? Start fighting his brothers out in the barn over her, after he’d reprimanded them.
Resolutely tightening his jaw, Dillon watched Dash sweep up her hand and kiss the top with eager gallantry. Torn between his love for his brother and his desire for Kylie, he seated himself. Folding his arms, he ignored Dono’s sideways glance.
Hell and hang ‘em high, he was in love with his wife. That’s all there was to it.
“Gonna say grace?” he asked Dono.
“As you know, Lord, we are grateful for your bounty.” Dono cracked what some would call an irreverent grin. “We are especially grateful for our new wife.”
“Amen.” Dash picked up the platter of roast beef sandwiches. He’d made them with different kinds of bread and rolls. “Whichever one you want, Kylie.”
“Wow, what a nice selection.” She smiled, then selected a smaller sandwich made with a whole wheat roll. Once she’d placed it on her plate, she took a nervous sip of milk.
Figuring to take the focus off her, Dillon seized a couple of large sandwiches. “Hungrier than a bear feeding for winter. Let’s eat.”
Dono followed his lead. “Rounding up those fillies has sure given me a mighty appetite.” He took several large bites. “Good as usual, little brother.”
“Yep, still got half a day’s chores waitin’ for me.” Dash sank his teeth into his double decker and kept his gaze from straying to Kylie.
From the corner of his eye, Dillon watched her nibble a few bites, then hungrily tie into the sandwich. After finishing off his second one, he reached for a third. “Dash, what have you got planned for dinner? Or do you want me to throw together an omelet since you got extra outside to do?”
“The only thing decent you make, big brother.” After helping himself to another sandwich, Dono offered the plate to Kylie.
“Take both of them, if you want,” Dash encouraged. “I can make more.”
“One will do. Thanks. You’ll have to show me what you put in the sauce.”
She took a large swig of her milk, and Dillon watched her put on a brave face. She wasn’t the type of woman who normally took control of a group of men by using her feminine wiles, though she used her instincts and he could see she was learning the basics.
“Only for you, Princess Kylie. But you have to promise to keep my secrets.” Dash gave her an exaggerated wink, then picked up another sandwich.
“I have a few secrets of my own you might be interested in,” she coyly teased. She paused, before adding, “There’s a few things I can cook up pretty darn well.”
“Brownies, fudge,” Dillon revealed.
“You weren’t supposed to tell.”
Pretending to pout, she nibbled on the thinly sliced roast beef. With all of them surreptitiously watching her, she licked at the dripping sauce with the tip of her tongue. Dillon heard the collective groan, even though none of them had made an actual sound.
“I was wondering. Why the last name Vega? None of you looks ethnically Spanish or Mexican.” She took a healthy bite.
“Our paternal grandfather was Spanish,” Dono answered. “He always claimed the Basque part of him recognized his Irish wife as an ancient blood cousin.”
“Makes sense, if you believe in the colonization of the people from Atlantis.”
Dillon knew he wasn’t the only one intensely gazing at Kylie. That all three of them were.
“What? Did I step in it?” She folded her hands in her lap, her expression too meek for Dillon’s liking. Hang high anyone who had crushed her spirit.
“Kylie,” Dash began, “no one here speaks about their Atlantis ancestry.”
“Why is that?”
“People used to disappear,” Dono explained.
“Disappear?”
Her azure-sky eyes rounded in fright, and Dillon resisted the urge to bundle her close.
“During the nineteen sixties there was a large movement toward understanding and resurrecting the antediluvian cultures from the east coast to the west coast in North America,” Dono continued. “Several of the top history investigators and leaders of the movement disappeared. Then those who claimed a large amount of Atlantean blood began vanishing.”
“They continued disappearing under more and more suspicious circumstances.” Dillon shifted toward her. “Dad served with the Rangers at the time.”
“You sure you want to tell her?” Dash interrupted.
“Tell me what?” Fiery impatience infused her words.
Facing her more fully, Dillon continued. “Dad and his posse tracked the abductions to New Mexico, an underground military facility.”
“Dulce, New Mexico. Is that the place?”
“How’d you know?” Dash restlessly moved.
“My Earth, it’s a secret programs base, and some paranormal investigators believe humans are working with alien races.” She took a quick breath. “What happened?”
“The Rangers did intel raids and discovered horrific experiments were going on,” Dillon answered. “They were also harvesting what they called Atlantis Rising genes. The Rangers managed to rescue some of those abducted before they blew all the entrances sky high.”
“That didn’t stop the abductions, did it?” she asked, her voice cold as stone.
“No. Not entirely.” Dono reached for her hand across the table. Kylie hesitated, but placed her hand inside his. “Not until all the health records were destroyed and all discussions were kept private.”
“I heard everyone has a genetic signature sound…like your own song. Couldn’t that frequency be used by black ops types?”
“Kylie, darlin’.” Dillon slipped a lock of her hair behind her adorable little ear. “We have a background frequency that is broadcast throughout Texas. So far, it’s cancelled those kinds of detection devices.”
“It’s not harmful. In fact, it promotes harmony among us all.” Dash grinned. “Maybe, that’s why Dono and me haven’t knocked each other cuckoo…when we were brawlin’, that is.”
“Good to know all this,” she quietly offered. “At least, I know not to talk about Atlantis in the open.”
Leaning forward, Dono planted an exuberant kiss on her hand, then released it. “You can always talk to us.” He thumbed toward Dillon as he rose from the table. “He’s your man for a serious conversation, though. You’ll have to excuse me, Kylie. Time to get back to work.”
“One of your cheese deluxe omelets with hash browns sounds good, big brother. I got some potatoes already grated in the cooler.” Dash stood, the gleam in his eyes heralding Kylie as if she, alone, began his day. “May I have a kiss?”
She searched Dash’s face, then nodded. Swooping down, he caught her mouth with a brief tender puckering of his lips. “Later, princess.”
Before Kylie could respond Dono had walked around Dillon’s chair and fisted her hair. Bringing her face beneath his, he lightly planted his mouth on her surprised, partly open lips. “Later, sweetheart,” he drawled in that low purring cadence most women couldn’t resist.
“We’ll be back once the sun lowers—” Dash halted his words.
“Once the sun rides the mountains’ crotch,” Dono finished, then took his brother’s punch to one of his biceps.
“Shut up,” Dash warned in a hushed voice as both brothers strode out of the room.
Dillon stood, placing their dishes and glasses on the tray. “Don’t let Dono and Dash’s way with
each other bother you, Kylie. They’d fight to the death for each other. For the ranch. For me. And now, for you.”
She added her plate to the tray, then nodded, a fragile bobbing of her head. “I hate to sound like a broken record. But I really don’t see how this is going to work out. I know it’s your culture and all. And nothing against Dono and Dash. They’ve been great. I mean…Oh God.”
Rising, she moved beside him as he lifted the tray, and side by side, they headed for the kitchen. “It can get emotionally complicated. But, hell, sweet thang, all of us are already smitten with you. And I don’t mean just on a physical level. Though, we’re like three stallions sniffin’ the wind over you and staring at your haunches.”
“There’s an image I’ll keep in my head forever.”
Hooking her finger in his belt loop, natural as you please, she swayed beside him. Dillon hoped like ever-lovin’ heaven she’d do that often. “The thing is, cowboy, it’s starting to feel like a juggling act. And if I don’t juggle you all in the right way…well, I don’t even like thinking about the possible consequences. What if I toss Dash too high and Dono not high enough? Or don’t catch you? My head is spinning just thinking about it.”
“Kylie, blunt truth is we’re going to juggle you.” Halting at the counter, he set the tray in the sink, then pivoted to face her. “There’s something I need to explain to you and show you. I’ll tell you right now you’re gonna feel like hoofin’ me in the head.”
She blinked. “What is it?” Her words charged at him like a ram.
We’re going to brand you. Dillon compressed his lips. Even though it was his nature to run straight at life, now was not the moment to tell her. “Let me show you first. Then I’ll explain.”
Tilting her head, she eyed him suspiciously. “What happens if I refuse?”
“We’ll make it so pleasurable you won’t refuse.” Dillon dived into the turquoise shine of her eyes, intensely feeling the promise of his own words.
“I think my stomach is somersaulting,” she murmured.
Dillon didn’t think. He hauled his gorgeous little wife close and rocked her against him. Roving his hands over her delicate back, he sought a way to soothe her, even as she caressed his chest. Dang his hide, she surely revved up his lust engine to loud and thundering for some racin’ action.
A low-toned wail caused them both to start and separate a bit. “Message. Got the station set to let me know if I’m not there,” he explained. “Back to the office. Come on, purty thang.” Dillon swooped her up and tossed her over one shoulder.
“God, you’re such a Viking.”
She wiggled around on top of his shoulder protesting his high handedness and because she was liking it all too much. Her raw wet scent had increased, tantalizing his nostrils and raising his cock to stud-mounting strength.
“Yep, and you’re my treasure.” Dillon palmed her ass, fondling her generous curves through the shirt. How lucky was he, gettin’ a wife with a real butt. “Maybe, I should act like a Viking and make you my bed slave.”
She stilled, her breath held. Her pussy’s fragrance changed to musky wildfire, hot as when he’d spanked her.
Smiling and feeling just like a wicked heathen, Dillon strode inside the office. Once he lowered himself before the screen, he handled his Kylie’s sweet body as if he slave-owned her.
Bringing her face down across his lap, he positioned her to his particular liking, his cock cradled by her hourglass waist. He swept one hand over the satiny soft globes of her ass, pleasuring himself. As he opened the message direct from Sheriff Taylor, he ran one hand over the perfect roundness of her hips.
“Dillon,” she moaned. She clutched his thigh, her nails stabbing like little claws.
“Rub those beautiful breasts on my leg,” he commanded. Once she obeyed and he felt the hard points of her aroused nipples, Dillon slid his hand over her rump and thumbed the juicy rim of her sheath. Lazily he worked the eager flesh of her opening.
Devil pitch-fork him, but he enjoyed his wife like hell.
“Please…” She tried to arch higher.
With her sumptuous tits crushed against his thigh, his loins knotted tighter. Damn, if the knife-like ache wasn’t its own odd rapture.
Waiting on decode, Dillon swirled his thumb exploring the shape of his woman’s sweet little entrance. Gradually, he penetrated her, gently pumping his thumb inside her sinfully slick heat. Listening to her desperate whimpers, he forced himself to wonder why Sheriff Taylor was breaking protocol.
Knowing Arnie, he had a damn good reason.
Commander, need a face-to-face. Available for breakfast, about ten. Meet at our usual feeding trough. Bring the bride if it’s your hankerin’.
Dillon didn’t hesitate, typing out their private code word with one hand. He and Arnie had been in too many battles together, savin’ each other’s rear end from enemy fire, especially at the beginning of the border wars when no one knew what the hell’s damnation had hit them.
“Kylie,” he growled. Replacing his thumb with his forefinger, Dillon thrust in and out of his woman, his pace deliberate. “Sweet thang, you’re hotter than a furnace. Keep squeezin’. My finger is lovin’ every little inch of you.”
“Got time for your bed slave?” She drew her knees up, then placed them on top of his thigh and raised her ass high. Her sex rose bloomed open for him.
“Oh, damn.” Dillon plunged his finger in deeper and faster. “You just threw a match on my bonfire.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Her words were mere pants of breath and stoked him higher.
Raging in a large breath, he uttered, “Past the point of no return.” Dillon thumbed the hood of her nubbin back and continued ramming his finger in and out of her.
Moaning, she inched her knees farther apart. “Mercy on your bed slave, Viking.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Firecracker-blazing Sky
Dillon loosed a primitive growl that made Kylie quake inside while feeling utterly abandoned. Looping his hard-muscled arm around her waist, her Viking cowboy then brought her upright. In the same motion he lifted her astride his thighs with a powerful ease that left her even more breathless.
Grunting with need, he rapidly unzipped his jeans. His cock emerged like a pillar, the gleaming brown skin impossibly stretched. Emptiness centered itself deep inside her sex passage, and all Kylie could think of was how much she wanted his cock inside her.
Bold, and with no compromise, his hands claimed her ass cheeks sending more shards of excitement through her. “Arms around my neck,” he commanded.
As she leaned forward, obeying him, he cupped her butt and hips bringing the sodden folds of her pussy to the base of his shaft. “You feel so good.” Her words escaped, the simple truth of what she felt as her sex embraced his cock.
“You’re going to slide up and down my length with that sweet pussy of yours.”
“Dillon.”
“No.” His smoky steel eyes flickered, formidable for a moment. “Not now. Later.”
Kylie knew better. Still, desperate for the savage strength of his cock inside her, she pressed her breasts against his chest and whispered, “Please.”
In a split second, his arm acted like a vice around her back. His sharp slap on her ass resounded throughout the room. The stinging sensation convulsed her clit, and zings of ecstasy seized her mound.
Kylie didn’t think. Anchored by his arm, she rocked up and down his cock, slowly at first. The whole inside of her pussy yielded to the stone-like column of his shaft, and she felt magnificently erotic.
“That’s it. Ride me, darlin’.”
With the folds of her sex molten desire, Kylie gradually rode him higher and faster. Her hips took over, undulating in a way that made her feel impossibly reckless.
“Show me what you got, beautiful thang. I want it.”
The hoarse hot timbre of his voice did more terrible and wonderful things to her insides. Spiraling into flames o
f lust, Kylie knew she finally lived on the wild side. Rhythmically, she slid her creamy folds on the tower of flesh that was his manhood.
“Rub that long plump bud of yours on my head, each time,” he raspy drawled.
Palming her ass, he stroked as if he savored every curve. His harsh groans entered her ears like rock and roll music each time she slid her clit on the crown of his shaft.
“Lord above, that’s the way to do it, darlin’.”
Handling her butt as Kylie imagined a Viking would, he blasted her into a new realm of passion, even as her arriving orgasm teased her pussy unmercifully. The slicing sensation grew each time she rocked, thrusting her clit against his cock’s head.
“Kylie.” He seized her ass cheeks with both hands and slammed her sex against his huge, splendidly-sculpted head. “Give me your come.”
Kylie shrieked a moan as pleasure ripped up her belly. Squeezing his neck, she buried her nose in the hollow of his throat. His virile scent, big as all outdoors, enveloped her, and she reveled in these peak moments before her orgasm fully arrived.
Furiously rubbing the length of her clit on him, she felt fierce and free in a way she never had. The promise of blissful insanity swirled through her like mist now, a slow rise that titillated and ached until she mindlessly flew. Unable to feel her flesh anymore, Kylie screamed as ecstasy cracked her insides apart.
Dillon’s primal grunts joined her keening moans. Spurts of his hot cum increased her pleasure, shooting against her parted sex folds.
“Oh, God, Dillon.” Kylie clung to him as she’d never held onto any other man. Not just with her arms, but with her soul. She clung with those facets of herself no other man had ever wanted. No one, but him. Her Viking cowboy.
Easing his big arms around her, he embraced her. His rough fast breaths sounded beautiful to her ear. His heart thumped so loud she wondered that the beats didn’t shake her body.
“Woman. My Kylie.” He smoothed one hand over her hair, then cupped her head close to his body.
For long moments, silence held them as intimately as they held each other. Kylie wished it wouldn’t end. At least, not too fast. But that was never reality.
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 24