Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Branded by the Texans (lit)

  Stirring, she angled her face toward him, responding to his lingering kiss.

  “Texans,” she breathed out. “Not just cowboys.”

  “Texans,” Dash repeated. “We ride longer and faster, lasso better, and shoot straighter than any other cowboys.”

  Glancing up, Dillon watched Dash prop himself on his elbow, then settle so he had a full view of Kylie. His brother’s eyes had to be more luminous than any harvest moon Dillon had ever witnessed.

  “Lasso…yeah, I can attest to that.”

  “Dry as cotton, your voice,” Dillon whispered. “Let me know when you want me ropin’ you again, Sparks.”

  His wife quivered visibly, remembering. Dillon nuzzled her shoulder, inhaling the spicy-rose scent of her dewy skin.

  “Texans,” Dono drawled, his tone reminding Dillon of the black suede his brother liked to don, often. “Everything’s bigger in Texas, includin’ our hearts. Kylie, little darlin’, want me to kiss it and make it all better?”

  Raising his head, Dillon saw Dono begin to bend toward the brand he’d placed above Kylie’s sweet full-flaring butt.

  “Dono, you are a big Texas beast. You better make it all better.”

  Kylie wiggled her ass in such an adorable and tempting way, Dillon growled. Hades damn, if his cock didn’t stop burning like a lightning rod, he’d need to make a break for the cooler and ice himself. He nipped her shoulder with his lips, then rolled and grabbed his shaft to keep control.

  Chuckling with manly satisfaction, Dono brushed his lips on her branded skin. He planted his mouth and lazily kissed, his passion more obvious than the rising sun.

  “Mmmm…much better,” she murmured moments later. “But I’m still in heat. I feel all juicy and hot. I need—”

  Dillon rocketed upward and swore he’d turned into a mad man. If Dono hadn’t wisely stepped out of his way, Dillon wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t have knocked his brother clear across the room.

  “A stud with lots of stamina,” she continued, once he’d moved behind her.

  “Looks like your breeding flesh, big brother, is gonna suit our wife just fine.” Dash’s grin colored his tone.

  Dillon seized his woman’s hips and squeezed her sumptuous curves. God Almighty, she was a soft woman. With his dripping cockhead aimed at her sweet rose hole, he growled, “How hard do you want it?”

  “Hard, Dillon, hard.”

  Her breathy desperation for him dug the spurs deeper into his ass. Dillon lunged, his shaft burying itself in her small creamy sheath. He shoved farther, gliding inside his woman’s pussy. “That hard?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

  “God, yes.”

  Dillon thrust to her scalding center. As he pushed and felt her tremors of pleasure, the cords of his neck strained with the force of his own need.

  “Dash, fondle her tits for me.”

  Dillon waited only long enough to see Dash sit up, position himself and slide his hands beneath Kylie’s breasts. Withdrawing his shaft rapidly, he pounded inside her several times. “Awww, god. Kylie.”

  “No. Don’t stop,” she wailed, yet sounded as if her breath had deserted her.

  “Dono, Christ, I won’t be able to do nothing but mount her. Take care of her rosebud for me.”

  A strangled cry burst from his little wife, one that was pure need and an anticipation of their carnal pleasure together. Dono joined them, kneeling on the bed beside Kylie. Without hesitation, he pushed his finger between her female petals.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he purred. “Let that slick bud of yours hitch on my finger all you want.”

  Trying to rock her sheath on his shaft, Kylie moved her butt against the grip of his hands. “Whoa, sweet thang. You’re gonna like my ride once I get going.”

  “Dillon, dammit, p-l-e-a-s-e. I’m on fire.”

  “Easy on the bit, beautiful thang.”

  Feeling the pressure of Dono’s finger work their wife’s nubbin, Dillon clenched his eyelids, and prepared to unbridle himself. There would be no turning back. His Sparks had him hotter than Hades caught in volcanic fires.

  With his whole body and being thundering for her, Dillon launched his hips forward, loosing his cock. In moments, he bucked long smooth strokes that caused his balls to swing rapidly.

  “God, Kylie, if you ain’t smoother than ridin’ on satin.”

  Dillon had no idea if his guttural sounds could be heard as actual words. All he knew was that his woman surrounded his shaft, her embrace incredibly tight and so carnally sweet, he felt invincible, as if he could ramrod inside her forever.

  “Yes…ride me.”

  Her tiny ecstatic sounds wound around him like the loop he’d settled over her.

  “Yes…yes…yes…yes,” she sang to him, mindless with what he did to her.

  The lasso of her rapture captured his insides, now. In this instance payback was a bitch he sure-for-dang-certain liked riding up to heaven and back.

  “Combustible,” she uttered. “Light me up, Dillon…yes, please.”

  Dillon felt as if a whirlwind possessed his stud feverish flesh. Rumbling a long groan, he slid his cock more powerfully in and out of her, his every lunge an ache of fiercest need and pleasure.

  “Damn, if you don’t own me…little thing.”

  “Yeehaw,” she barely whispered.

  Beneath his hold he felt her enraptured flesh subtly alter and she became molten surrender. Dillon barked a low growl. Her culmination of bliss seized his shaft, the feeling so sultry and honeyed, he thrust uncontrolled. Hell, his entire body thrust his cock inside her.

  Inside his Kylie.

  She screamed to him, a long melodic sound. It might as well have been the sparkling light of stars touching him everywhere with pleasure.

  His cum smoldered his loins and slowly corkscrewed up the length of his brutally hard cock. Kylie, his wife, had changed his breeding flesh into a flaming torch. With the arrival of his orgasm, Dillon howled his flight to heaven.

  He wondered if he’d ever drop down to Earth again, or ever feel wholly sane again. He decided within the dark bliss he inhabited that he never would. And that was just dang and hang-the-universe fine with him.

  “Kylie.” He had to know if he’d hurt her despite how much she’d craved his stallion-like mounting of her

  “Dillon.”

  Her voice graced him a moment later. He swept his palms over her delicate and voluptuous body, as Dash unbound her wrists. Almost as quick, Dono freed her ankles.

  Silence cast itself around them all, as if only the sound of their breaths were allowed. They were bonded now.

  Forever bonded.

  That’s just the way Dillon liked it. He’d always deeply felt the meaning of his life. Now that meaning had become fuller and so rich it rushed through him like the Rio Grande River when the rains came.

  Caressing his wife’s sweat-slickened skin, Dillon eased his cock from her satiated pussy. Kylie collapsed and snuggled against the bedspread, then didn’t move. Slumping forward with his own satisfaction, Dillon caught himself on his fists, and arched over her.

  “Woman,” he demanded, since she hadn’t responded.

  “I’m fine…more than fine, you big humping Viking.”

  The smile of pleasure in her voice did particularly splendid things to his innards. Lowering himself, Dillon planted a kiss on her cheek, still warm from the glow of her orgasm.

  In a sinuous slow dance, she changed positions so she could face him. Her little arms wound around his neck and might as well have wrapped around his very soul. Their lips sought each other and clung instantly. Nothing else mattered to Dillon except her kiss, his Kylie’s mouth, impassioned and utterly soft, meeting his own.

  “What a way to wrangle my lips, cowboy,” she drawled in a sexy imitation of their accents, once their lips parted and they gazed at one another.

  “I want to wrangle all of your lips,” she added a few heartbeats later. “How about a group cuddle while you’re all still wil
ling to please me, my beefcake cowboys? Before I crash into sleep.” She paused, then whispered, “I am done for.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, wanting to close.

  Rising above her, Dillon rolled to the side as Dono and Dash reached for her. They surrounded her in a semi-circle and held her, caressing her arms and her legs.

  “Ooooh, nice, so nice.”

  She stroked her hands over their arms with a tenderness that was not lost on any of them. Dillon witnessed that truth shining in his brothers’ gazes.

  “My cuddly man flesh.”

  Kylie’s eyes shut, and she smiled. Her features softened, and Dillon drank in her dreamy expression.

  “That’s my beautiful mermaid,” Dono crooned in that poetic way of his.

  Dillon felt his heart swell to twice its size, at least. “Come on, sweet thang, we’re going to bed.”

  When he glanced at Dono and Dash, they nodded their acceptance. They’d discussed it beforehand. There were the morning chores that needed doin’, and he was due to meet with Sheriff Arnie Taylor for a late breakfast. They’d all decided it was best for Kylie if she stayed with Dillon, undisturbed by their early gettin’ up.

  “Bed.” She expelled a fragile breath. Her utter fatigue caused Dillon a twinge of regret. He’d ridden her hard. Still, as he arched above her, she lifted her arms to him. “I’m so tired. To the freaking max.”

  Dillon reached beneath her and slung her against him, then swung to the edge, and stood with her. Once he gained his feet, her head dropped onto his shoulder. His woman’s small cheek nestled against him as he positioned her inside his hold.

  “Did you hear that? We’re her cuddly man flesh,” he heard Dash say to Dono in a hushed voice.

  “I’d say, brother, you’re definitely more cuddly than I am,” Dono ribbed in return.

  Closing his eyes for an instant, Dillon relished the fragility of his wife’s feminine nature. He savored her innocence.

  His Kylie wasn’t innocent in how the word had once been used, for a woman’s so-called virtue. Yet, she was precious innocence in so many ways, in the ways that mattered to him most. Inside her soul she was goodness itself.

  With a deliberate stride, he carried her to his domain, his hand rubbing her dainty back. Already, sleep claimed her. Padding inside his room, Dillon moved toward his enormous bed.

  Moonbeams slanted through his glass-pane doors, and pooled on the top, a perfect setting for his woman. He’d pulled the covers down in preparation. Now, he eased Kylie onto the moon-luminous sheets, tenderly placing her so she lay on her stomach.

  “It smells good. It smells like you,” she sleepily murmured. Her hand kneaded the sheet like an enjoyin’ kitten.

  “I’m hopin’ from now on it’ll be your scent in here. Don’t move, Kylie, I’m gonna tend to that sweet butt of yours.”

  “I can do it.” She roused herself, waking up.

  “You will not.”

  Dillon grabbed the jar of salve from his nightstand. Moving onto his bed, he launched toward her before she got any rebellious ideas about running from him.

  “What are you going to do? Whip me? My butt’s already been—”

  ”I know what I did to your sweet ass.”

  She restlessly wiggled as if she was about to get up.

  “And if you want it again, you’ll obey, Sparks.”

  “Obey,” she muttered defiantly, though she stilled while he unscrewed the lid. “Obey? You heathen.”

  “Heathen at your service, ma’am.” Dillon dipped out a large portion of the special salve, immediately slathering it over her entire bottom.

  “It’s not the same as you used before.”

  “Nope. This kind heals faster, and it’s good for your internal plumbin’.”

  “Oh. One way to say it.”

  She tensed some as he fingered the thick emollient inside her little butt hole, then relaxed as he remained gentle.

  “Little thang, I want you to understand something.” Dillon scooped out more salve. He covered her ass cheeks more thoroughly and just plumb enjoyed her blatant curves. “I don’t like crude, especially with my wife. Don’t get me wrong, though. I want to do all sorts of carnally wicked things with you. To this beautiful little body of yours. And I intend to. I also intend to do a lot of lovemakin’ with you.”

  “No crude.” The need for sleep made her voice sound delicate as gauze. Dillon watched her eyelids threaten to close. “I want you to make love to me…often.”

  “Often, Sparks.”

  Capping the jar, he then placed it on the nightstand. Twisting back to her, he slid downward and pulled the lightweight comforter over them.

  “It does feel better.”

  Those were her last words. Rapidly, she slipped into the arms of dreamland. Dillon cuddled his Kylie closer, careful to make certain her butt didn’t press against him. He didn’t want her waking up because she felt any pain.

  Too soon his fatigue took over. He would have preferred to stay awake longer, indulging in the lush softness of his wife. He wanted to count his blessings slowly, too. Dang it, hang it all, what was on his plate for tomorrow didn’t allow for that.

  Dillon idly smoothed his finger pads over her lovely back as his weariness claimed him. He didn’t discount the warning tingles deep in his gut. It was going to be one helluva day. Knowing that, he considered not taking Kylie with him. Yet, that didn’t sit right with him, either.

  Since the border wars, Dillon always listened to his gut, and relied on his internal sense of things. He’d have to be on guard every moment to keep them both protected. He knew that much. The best thing he could do now was get enough sleep.

  “Sparks, if you ain’t somethin’,” he whispered, recalling all that had occurred during his and his brothers’ branding of her.

  Dillon figured he fell asleep with a lustful grin on his big ole mug.

  The moment Kylie stirred against him, he opened one eye, awake. She settled quickly, her head resting in the dip of his shoulder.

  He couldn’t have said what he’d been dreaming about, only that he felt disturbed. He remembered holding a rifle. As the fogginess of his head lessened, Dillon realized that particular weapon was the one he called his “Gunnin' Down Friend.”

  Balanced to perfection, the short-barreled rifle had a smooth reliable action. On many occasions, it had saved his hide and the lives of others.

  Recently, when meeting with other Rangers, he’d only strapped on his sidearm, given the relative peace they enjoyed in Texas proper. But Betsy, as he’d named the rifle, because it suited him and tickled his funny bone, would be travelin’ with them tomorrow.

  Accustomed to this kind of danger scenario, Dillon eased himself back toward sleep. Besides, he’d kept Betsy cleaned and oiled, her ammunition stocked.

  The instant sunlight hit his eyelids, he woke up. Still deeply asleep, Kylie lay on her stomach, her arm draped across his chest. Dillon gazed at her face for several moments, entranced. She looked like his perfect angel. God Above, he adored her, not just loved her, he plain ole adored his wife.

  Not wanting to disturb her, he carefully removed her arm and refrained from kissing his woman’s slumber-rosy cheek. Once he’d moved to the edge of the bed, he briefly lifted the comforter, checking her butt. Only a tinge of color remained. She should be comfortable enough wearing the clothes he and his brothers had found for her.

  The aroma of Dash’s percolating coffee already permeated the room. Dillon pulled on his jeans and shrugged into a shirt, beginning his day. After a long look at his Kyle, he smiled all the way down to his fast-beating heart.

  First, he headed for Betsy. Next, he strode toward the kitchen, planning to down a large mug of black coffee.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Pardners As Well As Lovers

  Kylie awakened in stages as if she rode an elevator, with each floor less hazy than the previous one. When the door finally opened, she grinned, even though her body didn’t move. No, she was a bonele
ss mass of pleasure.

  “Mmmm.” The purring sound flowed between her lips as she felt for Dillon.

  Oh no! No Dillon. Only the ultra virile scent of him. Only this super huge lovely bed. His bed.

  Cowboys, Texas cowboys. She’d have to get used to them rising early. Morning chores and all that.

  Refusing to wake up yet, Kylie clenched her eyelids and attempted to get comfortable again. No go. The urge to stay awake felt like an unrelenting itch that became worse by the minute.

  Once awareness struck her brain like a hammer, Kylie whipped onto her side and palmed her butt cheek. The slight tingle reminded her of just how totally she’d been taken by their extremely talented cocks and their devastating creative…did she call it lovemaking?

  Good God, a woman could live for that kind of sex-sational passion.

  She stared at her wrist. “Wow. Freaking wow.”

  Tossing the comforter aside, Kylie looked at the brand above her sex mound. Blinking rapidly, she finally focused on the upside down beautiful artwork, especially the stained glass colors and wild running horses.

  Yep, branded by Dillon, Dono, and Dash.

  It so figured, her three Texans had placed it for their viewing, not hers.

  Not certain exactly what to do next, Kylie flopped backward and let her arm fall on her forehead. “Never in my wildest dreams. But beyond my wildest dreams.”

  Still, disbelief surged through her. Trying to dismiss it, she rolled on her side, then restlessly rocked. It didn’t matter what she believed, or what level of shock she’d sustained. It had happened. It was all real. Everything she’d been through, from standing miserably behind bars to being in Dillon’s bed, now the wife to three Texans.

  Face it. That’s what she needed to do. Stilling, Kylie scanned one side of the enormous room, looking for a bathroom.

  Stalwart functional furniture lined the wall, covered by what she called Indian Blankets. Large in size and heavy, the designs were all attractively unique, with color schemes in shades of blue, earth tones, and muted turquoise.

  Kylie drew herself up, stretching while she shifted to look at the other side of the room. Several substantial chests, all made out of different types of wood, sat along the wall. A pale oak desk, one that matched Dillon’s big frame, had been placed close to the center.