Double Ride: An MMF Menage (Dirty Threesomes Book 1)

by Ellie Hunt

  Table of Contents

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  Double Ride

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  Love sinfully hot, wickedly tempting stories?

  About the Author

  Double Ride

  An MMF Menage

  Ellie Hunt

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  Two sexy mechanics - and they want to share me!

  When my car breaks down on the way back to college, I never thought that two hot, young, dominant mechanics would come to my rescue.

  And once they take me back to their shop, I definitely never thought they’d both want to take me… at the same time!

  Even though I’m untouched and totally inexperienced, I don’t know if I can resist… but can my first time be with two rugged, rough men at once?

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  Double Ride

  An MMF Menage

  “We ought to get on down the mountain,” Wyatt said. The snow had started an hour before, when he’d looked out the window before ordering another beer.

  “You got the four wheel drive, right?” said Houston.

  “Still a tricky road.”

  “We oughtn’t leave this young lady alone and snowed in.”

  “This young lady can handle herself just fine,” I piped up from behind the bar.

  “I’d feel better if we waited until your folks were back, though,” said Houston.

  “If this goes on much longer they’ll be spending the night in town,” I said. I tucked a strand of my long blond hair behind my ear and leaned both elbows on the bar. “You boys heading down together?”

  “We are,” said Wyatt. “Tomorrow we’re settin’ out for the Double Snake ranch in Idaho.”

  I whistled.

  “That’s a drive.”

  They shrugged in unison.

  “Don’t mind it,” said Houston.

  Houston and Wyatt were nearly inseparable. Houston was named after the city but born in Colorado, and Wyatt was from Houston and they joked that their mommas must have known ahead of time that they’d be friends.

  They’d both been working a job for a rancher who couldn’t remember anyone’s name, so when he shouted for Texas to git over here one day, they’d both come running, the man with the Texas name and the boy from Texas.

  Ten years on they were so close that there were rumors about the true nature of their relationship, though they were never substantiated.

  I watched them both, sitting at the bar, beers in front of them. They wore similar plaid shirts, boot-cut pants, and their hats hung on hooks off to the side. Wyatt was blond and Houston dark-haired, but besides that, there wasn’t too much difference between the two.

  When I was younger, maybe fifteen, they were were in their mid-twenties, I admit I had a crush on them, but that was a long time ago.

  Seven years later, I’ve got a feeling no woman could get between them.

  Not that it stops me from fantasizing about getting between them, though. They’re both tall, muscles hard from ranch work, rugged in all the right ways…

  Suddenly my phone, sitting on the bar, buzzed twice, and I checked the message.

  “They’re staying in town at Aunt Shirley’s,” I announced. “I got the place to myself.”

  Houston, the brown-haired one, frowned.

  “It’s an hour of bad road to town,” he said. “I don’t like leaving you here.”

  I waved my hand.

  “I got a phone. I’ll be fine just watching TV by myself. God knows I never get the remote.”

  Wyatt grinned at me.

  “Don’t watch anything too racy,” he said.

  “You mean like the stuff you watch?” I said, teasingly.

  “Don’t know nothing about that,” he said, winking at my, his blue eyes crinkling. He drained his beer.

  Houston still looked serious.

  “You got a generator up here?”

  “Course,” I said. “And a fireplace, and a wood stove, and a whole water tank.”

  He nodded somberly and drank more of his beer. “I still do think you we could stay up here with you.”

  “I’m grown,” I said.

  Houston and Wyatt exchanged a totally indecipherable look. Suddenly, I felt as though I were intruding on their private business, so I turned my back and started washing glasses.

  They were the only two still in the bar at the Sky High Lodge, and no noise filled the big room except for the rush of water and clink of glasses.

  “If you think you’ll be all right,” said Houston.

  “Course I will,” I said.

  And then the lights went out.

  “Shit,” I said.

  There was still enough daylight to see by, but there wouldn’t be for long. We walked to the windows in the main part of the lodge, all plush leather furniture, stonework, and taxidermied animal heads.

  Outside was at least eight inches of snow on the ground, still coming down hard.

  The two cowboys looked at each other again, and then pulled on their heavy coats from a hook by the door. I grabbed mine and followed them out the door, suddenly unwilling to be let alone inside the bar.

  “In September, too,” I said as they trudged outside.

  “These freak things happen,” said Wyatt.

  The generator was around the side of the house, under a makeshift lean-to, and Wyatt and Houston got to getting it started.

  After a couple of yanks on the cord, though, nothing happened.

  “It got gas?” asked Houston.

  “It should,” I said, standing behind them. “Daddy keeps it full.”

  There was silence as the two men inspected the tank.

  “Nope,” said Houston at last. “Empty.”

  I kicked the side of the house.

  “Goddamn it, Daddy,” I sighed.

  “It’s only September, like you said,” Wyatt said. “He probably didn’t think it needed it yet.”

  “Bet he’s down in town, kicking himself now.”

  “If he even remembered,” said Wyatt.

  Houston gave him a look, and both men went silent.

  “Best go get that stove started,” I sighed and began walking back to the front door.

  The two men hesitated for a beat, exchanging another look. Then they came after me, following my snowy footsteps.

  “Keep the door shut if you can,” I said once they were inside, taking off their coats and stomping their boots before taking them off and leaving them on a mat. “Let the heat stay in.”

  I moved toward a wood stove in the corner. Both men went to the big fireplace in the center of the hall, easily four feet tall and five feet wide, and they started making a fire together.

  “Y’all should get down the mountain if you’re going,” I said, arranging the kindling in the wood stove.

  “We ain’t leaving you here to freeze,” volunteered Wyatt. “Get upset if you want but we just wouldn’t feel right leaving a young girl alone in this big place with no power and no heat.”

  I exhaled through my nose, hard, but didn’t say anything. If I wasn’t being babied by my parents, I was being babied by these two.

  At least I could maybe have some fun with them, though.

  The kindling in the stove lit and I blew on it, gently, adding a few bigger pieces of wood.

  “Y’all don’t have to light that,” I said. “This is plenty.”

  “Since we’re gonna be here we may as well have a nice time,” said Wyatt.

&n
bsp; “I do like a fire,” said Houston.

  I added some logs to the stove, then shut the door on it and stood, brushing off my hands.

  “I’ll grab us some lanterns,” I said, walking across the big main room. “You boys want a drink on the house?”

  “I wouldn’t say no,” said Wyatt.

  I came back with two Coleman camping lanterns, a bottle of Knob Creek whiskey, and three short glasses, setting them on the long, low wood coffee table that sat between an enormous leather couch and the fireplace.

  “You’re not drinking with us,” said Wyatt, teasing me.

  “You think I’m about to sit here, cold, and watch the two of you get shitfaced and tell horse stories?”

  “Not when you put it like that,” said Wyatt. He reached for the bottle, uncorked it, and poured three generous snorts. “Here’s to a night in.”

  Houston came over, the fire now going in the fireplace, grabbed a glass, and held it up. “Cheers,” he said.

  “Cheers,” I said, and took a sip of whiskey along with the two men. I shook my head a little in surprise as I swallowed, and the fiery liquid burned going down.

  Both men chuckled.

  “Still inexperienced?” Houston said, his brown eyes reflecting the fire.

  I blushed had at the double entrendre.

  Yes, I thought. And not just with drinking whiskey.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I can handle myself,” I said.

  “Sure,” said Wyatt.

  I took another sip and this time didn’t jerk, just made a face as it went down.

  “Don’t you go wasting the good whiskey,” said Houston. “I know you’ve got a bottle of Old Crow under the bar for that.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Wyatt. “A girl’s got to learn to appreciate the finer things in life at some point.”

  He sat on the big leather couch, followed by Houston. I sat in the armchair next to them.

  I took another swallow, finishing off the glass. This time I kept a perfectly straight face.

  I was beginning to feel the warmth of the booze spread throughout me, making my hands and feet feel a little faraway, my head feel fuzzy.

  “Look how good she did that time,” Wyatt said, reaching for the bottle to pour me more.

  As he reached, Houston put one hand on his bare forearm, and Wyatt stopped. They looked at each other.

  I knew immediately that she’d seen something I wasn’t supposed to.

  “Be gentle with her,” Houston said to Wyatt. His fingers still rested on the other man’s forearm, curling slightly around them, his rough knuckles on arm hair.

  “I can take a little more,” he said to Houston, then looked at me. “Can’t you?”

  “A little,” I said, my gaze still on Houston’s hand on Wyatt’s forearm.

  I’d never seen the two men touch before, I realized, as much as I’d seen them together.

  Houston let the other man go, and Wyatt poured me a few more sips of whiskey. I lifted the glass to my mouth and sipped it, the burn less now that I’d had plenty already. I settled the near-empty glass on my knee, still holding it with one hand, and looked at the two men, at the roaring fire, and then back at them.

  It took my a few moments to notice that Houston’s hand was on Wyatt’s knee as they both looked at me. Then, as I watched, the hand moved, slowly, up Wyatt’s leg, then down, rubbing his thigh through his jeans.

  Oh my gosh, I thought. What’s happening?

  Should I leave? Are they about to do… something?

  I had no idea what to do, so I sipped the last of my whiskey, then put the glass on the coffee table.

  I glanced into the fire again, as though it would hold some suggestion for what I should do now that I was good and buzzed and these two gentlemen had begun touching one another.

  When I looked back, Wyatt had tilted his head up and was planting slow kisses along Houston’s neck, the other man’s hand now digging into the flesh of his thigh, eyes closed.

  I froze, staring.

  Don’t stare, I told myself. It’s rude to stare.

  Isn’t it also rude to start making out in front of someone else?

  Besides, I found it… interesting. My heart beat faster and I felt the blood rush to my head as Wyatt slipped his other hand around Houston’s side, rubbing him through his shirt.

  His lips moved up the other man’s jawline, finally finding their way to his lips.

  I thought my head might explode. I blinked my eyes and shook my head, trying to be sure of what I was seeing.

  I opened them again, and yep, they were still there: Wyatt and Houston, making out on the couch next to me with a need and ferocity I’d never seen before. Their stubbled faces rasped together, and I could see flashes of tongue and teeth between their lips.

  Now Houston had one hand around the back of Wyatt’ head, holding the other man tightly to him.

  I watched, entranced, knowing that I should stand up and go somewhere else and allow them some privacy, even though they’d started making out knowing that I was right there.

  Had two grown men gotten that drunk off one glass each of whiskey?

  Did a fire get them in the mood that much?

  At least now I know the rumors were true.

  Then Wyatt released himself from the other man and looked right at me.

  I stood right away, so fast that the blood rushed away from my head and I had to sit back down.

  “Sorry,” I blurted out. “I was just going over to the — over there, to — you know…”

  I gave up on trying to spit out the words and just pointed at the bar. I could feel myself turning bright red at getting caught watching these men making out, like I was some sort of peeping tom or pervert.

  No, they started in front of you, I thought.

  I stood again and took a few steps away from the chair, back toward the bar. Maybe they’ll forget I’m back there and they’ll start again, I thought, then immediately tried to squash the thought.

  Maybe they’ll take their shirts off too.

  Before I could get any further, either with my train of thought or physically, Houston spoke up.

  “Wait,” he said.

  I turned. Wyatt had slung one muscled arm over Houston’s shoulders, Houston’s hand still resting on Wyatt’ thigh in a more-than-friendly way.

  I didn’t say anything. I had no idea what to say.

  Houston patted the leather couch next to him.

  I swallowed. I didn’t have much experience with this, but I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. If I was being honest, I’d thought about it before.

  “Come on,” said Houston. “We don’t bite.”

  “Not unless you ask real nice,” said Wyatt.

  When he smiled he had dimples, something that I had noticed before but never really thought about.

  I walked to the couch and sat down next to Houston, folding one leg under myself. He put his free hand on my other thigh, the warmth of it immediately soaking through my jeans and onto my skin.

  I felt like I was melting, just a little.

  “I guess you heard the rumors,” he said.

  “I didn’t really think they were true,” I said, wide-eyed and blinking. “I mean, not that it’s bad. I think it’s great that you guys are — you guys are, you know, whatever. I just never saw any evidence.”

  “Glenpark ain’t the most open-minded community,” Wyatt said. “And we like it here.”

  “You seem different, though,” said Houston, his eyes boring into mine.

  I swallowed, and then nodded.

  “I won’t tell,” I said.

  “Didn’t think you would,” said Houston. “What do you think about coming over here and joining us?”

  My mouth went dry.

  Really? I wondered.

  Both of them were at least ten years older than me, and had to know that I was just some twenty-year-old small town girl whose sexual experience amounted, more or less, the back
s of pickup trucks and one romp in hay barn.

  But I’d had huge crushes on both of them forever, and to be honest, I’d thought about this more than once.

  I just didn’t think it might actually happen.

  They have to be joking, I thought. This is a weird prank, right?

  But I also knew, instinctively, that it wasn’t.

  They were both completely serious, sitting still, waiting for my answer. I licked my lips, mouth still dry.

  Then I nodded. Both of them smiled.

  “C’mere, then,” said Houston, and I swung my leg over him. I straddled Houston, one leg stuck between him and Wyatt, suddenly towering over the dark-haired cowboy.

  “Atta girl,” he said, reaching his hand up to my chin and bringing my face down to his.

  He tasted like whiskey and leather, his mouth warm and dry. He kissed me slowly, moving his lips along mine, letting his tongue lick slowly at the entrance to my mouth.

  I could feel his stubble rasping along my face, sharp and rough, and I put my hands up in front of me, one on Houston’s chest and one on Wyatt’s. There were hands everywhere on me: one still on my chin, two on my legs, and one grasping at my waist.

  I had no idea whose were whose. One made its way up my arm to my shoulder, grasping me firmly but gently.

  Gasping, I broke away from Houston, feeling almost dizzy. Wyatt had a grip on my shoulder and pulled me to him, his mouth seeking mine, his lips also warm and dry, but in his kiss there was something more urgent.

  Something almost needy, and his tongue sought mine out, winding itself around me, constantly looking to get deeper and deeper until he broke our kiss and rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed, as if gathering himself.

  He put one hand in my hair and his other went to Houston’s thigh.

  “You taste good,” he told me.

  “You taste like whiskey,” I said, and Wyatt opened his eyes and laughed, pulling his head away from hers.

  His hand made its way down my body and squeezed my ass through my jeans.

  Houston frowned at him.

  “Be gentle with her,” he said. “No rushing.”

  “Give her a little credit,” Wyatt said.