The Grass Is Greener [McQueen Was My Valley 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  “Sure, why not? All right, maybe a dog instead of the chickens.” One especially big crash came from the bathroom, and Rowan’s serene constitution changed to ire in the flashing of a second. “Damn, buddy!” he shouted over his shoulder at the bathroom. “What’re you doing in there, stocking up a bomb shelter?”

  “It’s all right,” said Sasha, getting off Rowan’s lap. “I need to pee. I’ll kick him out of there.”

  She seemed to surprise Perry clutching an armload of items—a bottle of rubbing alcohol, Q-tips, and other assorted junk. He didn’t seem ashamed of being seen absconding with a bathroom candle, just more startled to see Sasha with her arm running up the doorjamb wearing nothing but a bra, stockings, and black heels.

  “Whoa,” said Perry. He was so boyish and unseasoned he didn’t even bother removing his gaze from her breasts. The radio on his duty belt crackled, barking out a tinny “Donovan! Donovan!” But Perry didn’t flinch, and his gaze didn’t budge from her bosom.

  “You’re a dear sweet boy,” she said brazenly, “but do you really want to date me?” She cocked a hip as his gaze slid down her abdomen to the slit Rowan had cut in the black stockings.

  Sasha was surprised when a sly smile now spread over Perry’s face. He finally looked back at her face. “Even more so now,” he said devilishly, and sped on past her into the bedroom.

  Her own boldness shocked her. She was practically daring that sweet man to prove himself—to display his virility, to compete with Rowan! Rowan was man enough for a sexually timid woman like herself to handle, and now she was goading this lusty, clean-cut ranger to jockey for position with Rowan? Rowan hadn’t even had an orgasm himself yet. She knew her biology, and two unsatisfied men was just asking for trouble.

  But the scene that greeted her when she exited the bathroom told her that both men were up for the task.

  A candle was lit on the nightstand. The men stood by the bed grappling with each other, kissing in a sort of primal push and pull. Rowan clasped Perry’s jaws in his palms, clearly the Dom as he kissed him, surprisingly gentle. Almost lovingly he licked Perry’s tongue with his own—as he’d just been doing to Sasha. In fact, a twinge of jealousy fluttered in the pit of Sasha’s stomach which she quickly tamped down, because she wanted to keep watching. Rowan sucked and licked at Perry’s mouth, bending him over backward. Perry clutched at Rowan’s powerful, satiny shoulders, his fingers digging deeply into the muscle.

  Is this how she had goaded them to compete with each other? To maul each other in front of her, to demonstrate their macho prowess? If so, Sasha would goad them some more.

  Lightly she touched Perry’s shoulder. “Boys,” she whispered. “What is that rubbing alcohol for?”

  They broke apart savagely, panting like lathered horses. They looked wild-eyed at each other, as though she wasn’t there. She had never seen such a stimulating sight as these two crazed bucks, erections crammed together, practically sweating blood from their pores in their lust.

  At last Rowan snarled, “I like a man in uniform.” Abruptly he backed off, tossing Perry onto the bed where he bounced. His manly and brutal arrogance sent a thrill through Sasha’s abdomen, fluttering her uterus, and she knew she was falling prey to the age-old hormonal sway that was part and parcel of being a female. She was curious to go along with it, to see where it took her.

  Perry leaned back on his forearms, seemingly uncaring that his long cock eagerly bulged the fabric of his brown uniform pants. “Donovan!” the radio at his waist barked again, and Perry sat up to turn it off. “The rubbing alcohol is for you, Dr. McQueen.”

  “Oh!” Sasha radiated pride at being called “doctor” by her lover. Lover, good one. She hadn’t had one in ages. “And what will you do with it?”

  “Perry will show you.” Rowan wielded one of the furry handcuffs. With just a tilt of his head he instructed her to take her place at the headboard, sitting up this time, and he only cuffed one wrist to the slat. Perry slid something cold and damp beneath her ass. A wet towel, the rat bastard. This must be part of his sadistic seduction plot.

  Sasha wriggled her hips lasciviously and stroked Rowan’s chest with her free hand. “You two men were teaming up, plotting what to do with me?”

  “Yes,” Rowan admitted simply, giving the handcuff ribbon a yank.

  Perry was pouring the alcohol into a shot glass he had found. Even more intriguing, he tapped what looked like Epsom salts into the shot glass. The bathroom was full of all sorts of stray items from the previous tenants, Sasha’s two sisters. What would Epsom salt do to alcohol?

  Straightening up, Perry pointed at the foot of the bed. “Do her ankles, too, like she was.”

  Rowan stood and handed Perry two of the cuffs almost ceremoniously. “Be my guest. You’re the top, too, nature boy. Don’t forget.”

  He cast Sasha a reassuring look as Perry gleefully set to cuffing her ankles. She reached for Rowan, but he remained standing, out of her grasp. Another of his tricks. And it’s working. “Please, Rowan. Let me touch you. You’re just so damned good-looking. It’s painful not to be able to touch you.”

  “Rough problem to have, pal.” Perry finished cinching the restraints and returned to the bathroom.

  Rowan merely folded his arms before his taut abdomen and looked sternly down at Sasha. “You’re our pretty little slave for the next half hour…Doctor McQueen.” And turned off the nightstand lamp that someone had turned on when she was in the bathroom.

  It seemed that they wanted her to squirm, to protest, and so she did. “Please, Rowan! I can’t bear being bound and unable to touch you!” She knew squirming made her breasts jiggle in their black lace casing, and she felt empowered when she saw them catch Rowan’s attention in the candlelight. Even trussed so tightly she felt like an insect in a display case, Sasha discovered she could exert power and control over Rowan, simply by being the object of his desire. It was a thrilling discovery to make. Being subservient did not have to equal being subjugated by another. In a way, she was subjugating Rowan by turning him on. She could have him more and more fully in her control the more she jiggled her tits and protested at her slavery.

  “Now, now, my beautiful miss.” Frustration flickered over Rowan’s face.

  Sasha was pleased she was affecting him. “Rowan, please! You’re going to drive me absolutely insane! At least sit next to me, let me touch you.”

  “None of that,” Perry snapped with authority, emerging from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil. He even grabbed Rowan by the bicep and yanked him away from the bed so he could sit down next to Sasha—on her bound side. He drizzled baby oil all around her torso, creating a sheen on her skin. His free hand slid under her back and unsnapped her bra with surprising expertise. She squirmed her free arm out of the strap, allowing him to sling the bra up near her handcuff. She was proud that her firm tits were bared to both men. Perry oiled her arms, chest, abdomen, and thighs, paying special and agonizing attention to her tits. Sasha squirmed seductively with each pass of Perry’s palm, the powdery scent heightening her arousal. Rowan stood by helplessly, clearly having agreed to allow Perry to have his little fun, whatever it was.

  Evilly, Sasha thought of a new way to torment Rowan. By reaching toward Perry, she was just able to brush his bare chest with her fingertips. He’d taken off his conservation officer’s khaki shirt in the bathroom, along with most of the equipment on his duty belt, and his velvety, almost hairless skin felt wonderful. The puppy dog grin he flashed her warmed her heart.

  She smiled seductively at Perry, looking at him from under lowered lashes. “You’re a dear sweet boy. Did you want to play at torturing your teacher?”

  Perry looked shocked with her bold talk, but he quickly regained composure. “You’re not so much older than me.”

  Since she didn’t want to reveal that she was thirty-eight, Sasha kept on with the syrupy tone as he lightly oiled her skin. She had no idea why he was doing this, and she felt vaguely like a character in The Silence of the L
ambs, but her medical curiosity had her hooked. “I’m a few years older than you. Experienced enough to know that you’re being a naughty boy.” He gasped when she tweaked his nipple, and the long, fat dick inside his pants twitched.

  Sasha was pleased, too, that a trace of annoyance was displayed on Rowan’s face. She could tell he itched to take control, to slap Perry aside, to ravage her again. She liked that he was jealous. She knew that in an ideal utopian society there would be no jealousy, but that almost never worked out in real-world or laboratory experiments. Even dogs could become jealous if their master picked up a baby, for example, or played with another dog.

  So she squeezed Perry’s cock.

  He hissed in air, and his fluttering eyelids slid shut. His hand that held the oil bottle stilled in the air over her hip. Although she was bound by three of her extremities, she felt more powerful than ever at the distraught look on Rowan’s face. She squeezed harder, her thumb manipulating the stiff corona of Perry’s penis under the harsh cloth. Perry abandoned the bottle altogether now, leaning back on his hands and thrusting his pelvis into her massaging hand.

  “Come here, you dear sweet thing,” she cooed. “You’re just the boy next door, aren’t you? Come to mow my lawn?”

  “Oh, God,” groaned Perry. His nostrils flared, and he was nearly cross-eyed with lust. “I need an exam, doctor.”

  Sasha wiggled her eyebrows. “I think that can be arranged, you dear—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Rowan finally exploded. Making a sudden lunge for his friends, he grabbed Sasha’s wrist and yanked it away from Perry’s bulging crotch. He tossed her hand away, and she liked how his eyes flashed with emotion. “Nature boy, this wasn’t the fucking agreement. Do what you were supposed to do, or I’ll belt you.”

  Perry didn’t seem fazed by the sudden violence. He looked salaciously at Sasha from under heavily lidded eyes, stopping just short of licking his lips. Now he fondled his own hard-on, and Sasha felt a trickle of juice run down her thigh. This disarming game warden was getting her almost as hot as the hot-blooded mercenary did, thoroughly soaked and aching to be filled. “Doctor. Something’s swollen and throbbing.”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” This time, Rowan did sling his hand under Perry’s arm and yank him forcibly from the mattress. Perry was jerked off the bed like a cartoon animal sheriff. “We’ve set the scene. And it was not to play doctor with my Miss McQueen!”

  Sasha had to smile secretively to herself. She knew she had nailed Rowan O’Shea’s heart.

  Rowan rattled Perry mercilessly. “Now do it! Do your fire play, or whatever the hell you called it!”

  Chapter Ten

  Perry was proud when Rowan yanked him off the bed. It meant that he’d riled Rowan, gotten to him. That was his intention, of course.

  And now that Perry was the only one who knew how to do the fire play, he had an edge over the domineering, arrogant commando.

  “Yes, what is it?” asked the beauteous Dr. McQueen. “Why does it involve being in the dark?”

  Rowan shoved his shoulder. “Show her, you Gomer!”

  Perry took his time, knowing Rowan’s irritation was only a sign that he cared—about both of them. Feeling supremely confident now, Perry resumed his seat on the bed near Sasha’s bound wrist. Taking a Q-tip, he set it on fire with the candle to use as a little torch. Sasha’s eyes gleamed with curiosity and excitement, and Rowan went around the bed to crawl toward them from the other side. He leaned up against the headboard near Sasha’s free hand, and so rapt was the doctor’s attention to Perry’s preparations she didn’t even move to touch him.

  He dipped another cotton wand in the shot glass of alcohol. Swiftly now, he placed a dot of the clear stuff near Sasha’s navel, then lit it with the little torch.

  “Ah!” Both Sasha and Rowan gasped in awe, like spectators at a Fourth of July show.

  The flicker of flame—rendered blue from the addition of the Epsom salt—was gone in an instant, which was the intention. “It’s the vapor that’s burning,” said Perry, “not the alcohol itself.”

  “It never touches the skin,” Sasha marveled.

  Before their wonder could wear off, Perry quickly dotted Sasha’s abdomen with about six spots of alcohol and lit them in rapid succession. Her belly was like a little minefield of flashing nighttime activity, and now Perry’s audience laughed aloud.

  “Oh my God!” squealed Sasha. She blindly reached for Rowan’s hand, and even the cynical older man smiled widely, making him even more handsome, if such a thing was possible.

  “Do you feel anything?” Rowan asked Sasha.

  “Yes, I feel a brief warmth. It kind of keeps me on my toes, anxiously waiting for what’s next. This is a better trick than stuffing cotton into an intern’s stethoscope.”

  “It’s just alcohol,” said Perry. “It’ll evaporate right off.”

  A few of the spots burned for more than a second, so he swiped his hand over them, exciting Sasha even more. She twisted as far as her restraints would allow, displaying the beautiful curve of her hip to the ceiling, and Perry made a bold streak of alcohol there, which he quickly lit.

  Rowan said, “It’s a shame it extinguishes itself so quickly. It’s a stunning trick.”

  “Looks like a video game,” Perry agreed, setting several spots on her shoulder alight. The fast-burning flames reminded him of his many long nights on the mesas watching spotlighters flash the stunned deer.

  Rowan wiped off the flashes from her shoulder, then moved both his broad hands down to wrap around her waist. He was clearly getting turned on by the fiery edge play, and he looked at her with adoration. Redunking his wand again and again, Perry began randomly lighting fire flashes here and there. Sasha giggled as Rowan caressed out the fire with his hands. Perry lit her hip bone, clavicle, and both shoulders. He kept them both on their toes as Rowan swiped his hands to extinguish the fire.

  Finally Rowan jumped to his feet, shucking off his jeans. He stood before them in his utterly nude glory.

  Perry gaped with a slack jaw. He didn’t realize he held a burning wand until it stung his fingers and he nearly dropped it on the bedspread.

  “Ow!” Perry put the fire out between thumb and forefinger and dropped the burnt stick onto a tray on the nightstand.

  He knew Sasha was holding her breath, tensed like a high-wire artist, waiting to see what Rowan would do. Her mouth closed and opened like a beached fish as she watched him get onto the bed and straddle her. Perry once more became an insignificant fly on the wall as Rowan grasped Sasha by the ribcage, his enormous hard-on looming above her. Sasha’s eyes roamed all over Rowan’s carved, powerful form. She was clearly in awe of him, and more than a little bit in love.

  Rowan tossed his head at Perry. “Light her up.”

  Everyone breathed easier, their breath coming shallow with excitement as Perry got fancier. He streaked the sensitive undersides of Sasha’s upper arms and lit them on fire. Rowan used more than enough gusto to rub out the flames. Perry couldn’t fire up her navel, under her breasts, or allow the alcohol to pool.

  “Be quick,” Perry instructed Rowan. “Only let the flame run in one direction.” Perry streaked Sasha’s ribcage like a tiger, lit the stripes, and Rowan quickly swiped them away with his hands.

  But this time, Rowan’s hands continued up, underneath the black lace bra, squishing her beautiful tits in his palms.

  “Mother of Mary, my love,” Rowan panted. “You are one delicate, beautiful creature.” And he hunched over her to kiss her squarely on the mouth, his hands slipping beneath her birdlike shoulder blades to unhook the bra behind her.

  Perry could do little while the other two made out. He had set the wonderful scene with his firebug tendencies, only to turn both of them on to the utmost. Now he was the one left in the cold!

  He could have swiped Sasha’s flames out with his hands. He didn’t need Rowan getting all dominant like some lust-crazed satyr. But Perry had a feeling that was just how Rowan was.
<
br />   In fact, he didn’t need Rowan at all. But he couldn’t see any way to be allowed to be near Sasha without the devilishly handsome assassin in the same room. Sasha might allow it, but Rowan would rip him a new orifice.

  Watching Rowan kiss Sasha was driving him over the edge. He lit a few spots on Sasha’s thighs and smeared them away, but it was probably like the tickling of a fly to her now, with that gorgeous beast’s mouth latched onto hers. He even lit a few of his fingertips and tapped them to her knees. One had to be very quick to do this, but no one was impressed now. Sasha’s free hand easily came up and softly caressed the bulbous head of Rowan’s dick, but that hadn’t been Perry’s intention in allowing one of her hands to remain free. His entire plot was backfiring on him.

  A mixture of frustration and rage swelling through him, Perry stood and stripped his pants off, flinging them somewhere without looking. The pants thudded under the weight of the Smith and Wesson’s holster, but no one admired his form, his erection standing out at a right angle to his body, or his pistol. No one even glanced at his rounded butt, his cock Rowan had termed “whaling big,” or his clean-cut, all-American face. Perry would have to take matters into his own hands.

  He kneeled behind the mercenary, gently urging the head of his prick against Rowan’s deliciously rounded ass. Humping Rowan like a dog, he cupped the hot, shiny cockhead in his palm. Sasha finally broke her voracious kiss and lay back, looking up at the men with eyes of wonder. Her hand had slid down to caress Rowan’s stupendous ass, and when it bumped up against the insistent slither of Perry’s cock, she fingered that, too.

  She seemed lost in a drugged daze, a beatific smile gracing her face, her lovely bare breasts flattened. Rowan straightened his torso to allow Perry to plaster his chest to his strikingly muscled back. Rowan even wiggled his ass against the insistence of Perry’s cock, and Perry bit into the hard flesh of the thug’s shoulder, gnawing on the man hungrily, slathering his tongue over smooth skin. His other hand ran up the flat plane of Rowan’s abdomen, resting in the crisp chest hair, lingering over the fully developed pecs. He discovered that when he pinched Rowan’s nipple, his cock twitched in Perry’s palm.