Acres, Natalie - Propositioned by Outlaws [Outlaws 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Natalie Acres

  The marshal turned to Art and Lane. He looked at Victoria and stood a little taller than before. Lane thought he detected a little bit of pride in the man’s worrisome eyes but he couldn’t tell for sure.

  Finally, the marshal grabbed the keys to the jail cell and said, “Did you rob that stagecoach or not?”

  Lane shook his head. Art followed suit.

  “Well then, I’ll send a telegraph to the judge.”

  “It appears you don’t have a choice, Marshal,” Art said.

  “On one condition,” the marshal added. “You two stay the hell away from my daughter.”

  “You might as well go ahead and hang me,” Lane said. “Because I tell you about what’s gonna happen if you let me out of here.”

  “What’s that?” the marshal asked, arching a brow.

  “I’m probably gonna love her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Probably, hell, Art thought as they rode back to Victoria’s place later that afternoon. The two of them had been making eyes at one another all the way home.

  Home.

  Fuck. He was as hung up on the idea of a future with Victoria as Lane apparently had been. As the clopping of horse hooves came to a halt by a shaded area near the river, Art caught the end of a conversation bound to snap him out of his daydreams.

  Lane said, “So what tipped you off to the marshal being your daddy?”

  Victoria slid away from the saddle, and Lane was there to catch her. She looked up at him and smiled. “I don’t know. Your wolf friend got me thinking. I knew you lied to me about robbing that stagecoach. After I thought about it awhile, I started beating myself up, thinking maybe it was my fault the marshal caught up with you before you had a chance to turn yourselves in.

  “Then I thought about how red-faced he was when he saw me naked. He kept looking away from me, trying to give me the chance to get dressed without gawking. My ma used to say if a woman had a good body, a man would look at her regardless of whether or not he had a good woman at home. She always said God couldn’t fault a man for looking at a woman when all he was doing was admiring the beauty of the big man’s handiwork.”

  Art and Lane laughed.

  “Anyway,” Victoria went on, “I noticed something else about the marshal, too. He was mad, enraged really, when he walked in that barn and discovered the two of you had been with me. He was so angry, he was unwilling to see what had happened there as a consensual agreement between adults. He wanted to pin some other crime on you.

  “So I studied on that for a piece, too. That’s when a stream of old memories rolled through my head. I didn’t just remember the handsome young marshal who used to come and visit my mother. I remembered his voice, too. It hasn’t changed any.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together before now. His appearance has changed considerably. He’s about fifty pounds heavier than when he used to call on my ma, so maybe that’s why I didn’t figure out the past until history mattered.”

  “But his voice hasn’t changed?” Art asked.

  “He has a lisp,” Lane pointed out.

  “Yes he does,” Victoria agreed. “And that lisp is exactly why I remembered a lot of things. He and my mother had a lot of arguments before he quit calling on her altogether. Lucky for the two of you I remembered a lot about him just in time to save your necks.”

  “My neck thanks you,” Art told her.

  She grinned as she led her horse to water. Once all three animals were watered down, Lane said, “So now what?”

  She shrugged. “This is as good a place as any to show me how much you appreciate me.”

  Art’s cock twitched in his breeches. “Here?”

  “Yes,” she said, giggling. She stripped off before they could stop her—not that they would—and waded into the river.

  “Good God, she’s right about one thing,” Art said. “Any man in his right mind would have to look at her if he was able.”

  Lane yanked off his boots, slid away from his breeches, and shrugged out of his shirt. He dove into the river while Art took a seat on a large rock.

  “You gonna stare from over there, or come in and take a closer look?”

  “I’ll be along shortly,” Art assured her, gnawing on the inside of his jaw.

  As Lane and Victoria frolicked in a concealed area of the river, mostly covered by a thicket rich with swooping branches and leaves, Art thought about how close he came to death.

  Victoria saved his life.

  What kind of woman went out on a limb for a man she barely knew? Leaning back on his elbows, he smiled as she approached him. Squealing like an excited young girl, she ran up the hill, rushing away from the river as Lane chased her.

  “Get that thing away from me!” she exclaimed, giggling.

  “You’re the one who tried to arouse me. And you’re the only one here who can do something about that.”

  “Man has a point,” Art said, rubbing his chin.

  “What if somebody sees us?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as she asked the question.

  “Would that bother you?” Art asked, tilting his head from side to side in an effort to see under the mess of blonde locks blocking her eyes from meeting his.

  “No,” she fired back.

  “Good Lord, woman,” Lane said, grabbing her around the waist and drawing her against his chest.

  As Lane aroused her, tweaking her nipples, rolling the hard gems between his thumb and forefinger, Art’s mouth watered. His hard cock pressed against his pants and he wondered then if she could handle them together.

  There was only one way to find out.

  * * * *

  Victoria spread her legs as wide as they would go. “Don’t be a lily liver. Cowards aren’t welcome to play here.” She dropped her hand between her legs and worked for her own pleasure, stimulating her arousal.

  “I ought to spank you for that,” Lane told her, nipping at her calf as he kissed his way up her inner thigh.

  “I liked it when you spanked me last night.”

  “You liked being spanked?” Art asked, shooting Lane a quick glance. “Did you hear that, Lane?”

  “I did,” he said, licking his way to her pussy. “Hmm, sweetheart. You smell like honeysuckle.”

  “I should,” she said, laughing. “There’s a vine right behind me!”

  Art reached for a few golden buds. Snapping the stem off the first one, he squeezed the tip. The syrup dripped over her nipple, and she arched her back. “Ah, that feels nice.”

  “If you like that, wait until you try this.” Art carefully aroused her with more honeysuckle, covering her breasts in the syrup. Then, he dropped his head between her mounds and devoured her.

  Lane paused and watched Art. He, too, reached for a vine. Soon, he dripped the natural juice over her pussy, rubbing the stems between her legs as she arched and moaned, groveled and whimpered.

  Using his fingers to arouse her, he stirred the moisture inside her, dipping his fingers in and out of her cunt as he sipped her lips, tongued her pussy. “Lane!”

  Art pinched her nipple. “There are two of us here, you know.”

  She smiled. “I know, but you’re not getting busy like he is, now are you?”

  As if Art accepted the challenge, he reached between her legs and slapped the hell out of her mound. Her hips shot off the rock. As her bottom left the flat surface, Lane tucked his hands underneath her.

  In a matter of minutes, he was shaking his head back and forth, eating her out like she was the only meal he could find on the prairie. And Art wasn’t ignoring her. He taunted her with his mouth, tantalized her with his fingers, and stroked her with his quite capable tongue.

  As her imagination ran wild, Victoria heard riders in the distance. But she couldn’t bring herself to stop Art and Lane. She wanted this pleasure. She needed them inside her. She wasn’t about to halt her own satisfaction for passing spectators. If they paused instead of riding by, they could take a seat and enjoy the show.

 
; This was too good, so delicious. And nothing would prevent her from taking what was theirs to give, hers to have.

  Chapter Eleven

  A horse neighed. Voices filled the air. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from taking the pleasure they allowed her.

  The whole damn town could watch them for all she cared.

  Her legs splayed. Her body bucked. The entire moment was so surreal. And Victoria wanted to remember every detail. The whispering leaves in the distance. The way Lane suckled her pussy lips like he was so lost in her body he’d never find his way out. And then there was Art.

  “Oh, Art,” she crooned, holding his head to her breasts as he licked at her hard nipple, twirling and pinching one, nipping at the other until the bud was hard, erect, and oh so tender.

  Lane thrust his tongue inside her, wiggling the texture inside her pussy until she finally braced for the orgasm rolling over her. Her fingers laced through Art’s curly hair. Her body rose and fell. “More,” she hummed. “Oh please, men, give me more.”

  Lane shifted. His forearms braced against her thighs as he suckled her clit and nuzzled her mound. “So sweet.”

  “No! No! Don’t stop yet. Please don’t slow down. Keep at it. Oh God, please!”

  Art looked up and shot her a one-in-a-million grin. “Stop, Lane,” he demanded in a gruff voice.

  Unfortunately, his words held more power. Lane rose over her then, his right leg thrown over her left. At the same time, Art mirrored the same action, towering above her from her right side.

  With fisted cocks in hand, they lowered their cocks to her pussy. “Now,” she moaned. “You’re both gonna…”

  “Shh,” Art said, bending over and stealing away with a kiss. “We won’t hurt you, Victoria.”

  “Yes you will,” she promised them. “It would have to hurt.” She stared down the length of her body. “Look at the size of those things!”

  Lane looked at Art’s penis. Art looked at Lane’s. They shared a suspicious smile and then inched inside her together.

  “Easy!” she exclaimed. Birds high above them left the trees where they’d been perched. Another crunching sound in the distance was followed by several more. “Oh, God, hurry! Damn it someone is coming! Hurry! We’re going to be interrupted!”

  “The only one who’ll be coming is you,” Art promised her.

  Latching onto one another’s shoulders, Art and Lane slid inside her cunt, finding the perfect space. They stroked her together, filling her with their size. And as they discovered a forbidden pace, a seesaw effect began between them, forcing their cocks to rub together as the friction became overwhelming.

  “Oh yes, right there,” she hummed. “Harder. You have to go deeper.”

  As they obliged, she screamed out with agony and with pleasure. She’d never known such a mix of pleasure and pain, bliss and taboo.

  Lane pinched her nipple as he fucked her. “Relax, Victoria. You’re trying too hard.”

  “No,” she assured him. “You’re doing all the work. I’m just dying.”

  They stilled inside her.

  She stared up at two strong and sexy men. Both fellows had angst settling in their eyes. “Want us to stop?” Lane asked.

  “No!”

  “You said you were dying,” Art reminded her, a grin tilting his lips.

  “I am. It’s very painful,” she admitted. “But hurt me more.”

  Lane started to slide out and she jerked. “If you leave me, Lane, I swear I’ll hang you myself. Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m enjoying you!”

  “We don’t want to bring you pain, sweetheart.”

  “Just give me a minute,” she said, a sharp shard of arousal dousing her pussy with heat and moisture.

  She closed her eyes and thought of her wet pussy saturating their cocks. The way her body enveloped them, welcomed two cocks instead of one, shocked and inspired her. As her pussy clenched, she bucked underneath them. “Now, oh God, please. Give me what I need right now!”

  As if they knew precisely how to deliver everything she desired, Art and Lane began an age-old tempo they made new by developing their own pace, a brand-new rhythm. Their bodies came together, slippery and wet from the sweat sheathing them. Thrust after thrust, they pounded inside her, fucking her with their wide, long cocks. They stroked together, screwed her with broken beats. And as the grunts and moans resounded around them, a smidgen of awareness heightened her senses.

  They were being watched. And that turned her on.

  Victoria rolled her head to the side and bit down on her fingernail. Her eyelashes fluttered as Art and Lane came over her, rocking forward, drawing back. She saw movement in the bushes, but she couldn’t focus. She didn’t care.

  “Now!” she screamed, her pussy so hot she felt as if the cocks inside her were licking her walls and tending to high-rising flames. Smoldering desire took hold, and she braced for the end. Reaching high above her head, she latched onto those honeysuckle vines, pulling the weeds down over her as she tried to hold on for another minute, maybe just one more second.

  “Ah, there!” she exclaimed, her body writhing under them. Sweet heaven and the sun shining down on her, there was nothing more spectacular than this!

  “Good God, hold still,” Art grumbled, beads of sweat scattering across his brow.

  Lane’s face wrinkled as he pushed his cock high inside her channel. “There. God yeah. Right there, Victoria.”

  The turbulent exploit was much like sliding down a cascading waterfall. As their pleasure consumed them, their bodies shifted and swayed in a dozen different directions, and as they landed in a pool of desire, their bodies became broken waves rocking in tandem. One led the other into a delicious freefall of satisfaction only they could share together.

  * * * *

  “Well, what have we here, boys?”

  Victoria jerked. Art yanked her against him, covering her body with his. Lane went for his clothes and hers, but it was too late. The outlaws surrounding them swung their breeches and her dress around their heads like they’d taken their clothing as trophies.

  “Damn, what a woman,” the taller one said. “You think you can handle me and my boys like you handled these two?”

  “I doubt you have a cock to match that big mouth of yours,” Victoria said, unable to keep her anger to a minimum.

  “I know you,” the older guy in the back said, pointing his finger toward her. “You’re that girl that lives out there in the prairie by your lonesome, ain’t ’cha?”

  She held her head high and refused him an answer.

  The man who’d first approached them pushed Art out of his way and pursued her. “My friend asked you a question, woman. You deaf, or just plain dumb?”

  “I’m not deaf.”

  “That leaves dumb then,” he said, his laughter quickly joined by group support.

  Victoria stared at the idiot in front of her. “I heard your friend, but a lady never tells a stranger where she lives.”

  “No, but a tramp does, and ain’t that what you are?” the old guy asked. “I seem to remember your mammy giving her share of rides, too.” He looked at Art, and then shifted his gaze toward Lane. The rage had settled in their eyes. They were surrounded, and knew better than to pick a fight when the battle was already clearly won.

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my dead ma like she didn’t matter,” Victoria said, dropping her hands away from her body. They’d already watched her fuck. They’d seen her ass, gawked at her breasts. What did she have to hide anyway?

  “Your mamma is dead?” the older man asked, a flash of sincerity in his eyes. “Well that is a blessed shame.”

  “Died a while back, yes she did,” Victoria said, hoping she could keep the elderly fellow talking.

  The old guy turned on Art and Lane. “And you two came in and took advantage of an old whore’s daughter while the gettin’ was good, I imagine. Don’t count yourselves lucky. Her momma fucked anything that walked, screwed some of ’em who
couldn’t walk much after they got enough of her.”

  “Victoria has heard plenty from you,” Lane warned, his eyes flashing with dangerous fury.

  The man next to Victoria grabbed her around the waist and held her body securely against his. “What do you say, little lady. Wanna see how many dicks can fit in that pussy?”

  She locked eyes with Art. He was pale, but far from out of it. He was contemplating their next move. He was a thinker. Until that moment, Victoria wouldn’t have guessed.

  “Let her go,” Art said, hardly stern enough to sound like a man ready to negotiate.

  “Or you’ll what?” the rogue asked, dipping his head and kissing her neck.

  Victoria didn’t squirm under his lips. She refused to give him the pleasure. If she resisted him, he’d find more excitement in her body than she wanted him to have, and since she was naked, he wouldn’t struggle for access.

  A gun cocked in the distance. “Back away from the girl.”

  Victoria looked over the old man’s shoulder. There, on horseback was the marshal and his men, a few fellows who rode alongside him when posses formed.

  “And who are you?” the ringleader asked, shoving Victoria to the wayside.

  “You see this badge, don’t ’cha?”

  “Are you the marshal in this town, or just riding through on your way to the next one?” another fellow asked.

  “It shouldn’t matter to you either way. But if it does, I’ll tell you the only thing that really matters in the first place. I’m the girl’s father. If you don’t back away from her, I’ll blow your balls off and send them home to your mother. Ask me if I’m kiddin’.”

  Another five guns cocked. The pistols pointed were all aimed in the direction to drive home a solid point.

  The tall man hissed as he stepped over her. “This ain’t over, sugar.”

  The marshal hopped down off his horse and pulled out a wanted poster. He studied the paper in his hand and then ripped it to shreds. “All right, boys. Let’s take ’em in. I believe we’ve just caught the men responsible for robbing that stagecoach this time last year.”