Love Under Two Loners [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  She’d never imagined such a moment could feel so right. Donny stroked her arm while his brother’s cock stroked her channel. Higher and higher her excitement rose, the sensations a smattering of electric currents that began to spiral within her, racing her heart and heating her blood. Sweat dotted Rich’s face and gathered between their bodies. Heat rose, with the scent of sweat and sex combined, and went straight to her head—the perfect seductive perfume.

  As every nerve ending in her body seemed to vibrate, the strength left her, and she collapsed on the bed. Thoughts stopped as Iris opened herself completely to the man fucking her and the man beside her as she surrendered to them completely.

  That tiny release of will opened her fully, and Rich growled, even as he plastered his mouth on hers. His hips moved faster, his cock pounding into her with a rhythm not quite controlled and no longer smooth and measured.

  Within her pussy, his cock became hotter and harder. When he groaned, when he held himself still deep inside her, she felt the pulsating ejaculation and the blossoming heat that pushed against her womb. Iris shattered into a million orgasmic, vibrating pieces. She barely registered the sharp, high-pitched keening as her own voice as the rapture went on and on.

  The weight of Rich’s body, his chest heaving, and his breath rasping in her ear were the sweetest things, ever. Her feet rested on the backs of his legs, and her hands, trembling, idly stroked his damp back.

  She sighed when he took his weight off her. Braced on his arms, he looked down at her. Bending closer, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “Thank you, baby.”

  “I think that should be my line. I never knew.” Waves of emotion flooded her, and she felt her throat go tight.

  Rich said nothing, just gave her another soft kiss. “Now you do. I’ll be right back.”

  She didn’t have a chance to miss him because, the moment Rich rose from the bed, Donny stroked her face, bringing her attention to him.

  “You’re so beautiful when you come.” He ran his hand down her body. His palm cupped her breast, and his thumb strummed the nipple. “Are you too sore for me?”

  “No.” That slight discomfort when Rich had fully entered her was not only gone she’d practically forgotten it. “I need you, Donny.” Iris didn’t question the sure and certain knowledge that came to her. “I feel as if this isn’t complete, I won’t be complete, until I have you, too.”

  “Well, in that case.” Donny turned on his side, but he didn’t do anything for a long moment but look at her. Then with one finger, he stroked down one side of her face and then the up other. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “I’m not, really.”

  “You’re not allowed to disagree on that point, sweetheart. I’m the man looking at you. You’re beautiful. Now, say thank you.”

  Iris felt her cheeks heat. Even so, she responded to that tone of voice—a Dom voice that sounded very similar to his brother’s. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. One thing you’ll learn in time is that no one, absolutely no one, gets to disparage our woman…not even our woman, herself.”

  Iris wondered that he referred to her as their woman and not their submissive. It was a clue, and one she believed important. Something to think about, later.

  “We’ll give you a pass tonight,” Rich said. He came back into the room and then stretched out on the bed on her left. He kept some distance between them when he propped his head on his hand. “If you wonder what would make us want to give you a paddling as punishment, saying negative things about yourself would be at the top of the list.”

  She looked from Rich back to Donny. “Yes, Sirs.” Though they hadn’t indicated they wanted to “play” tonight, she couldn’t help the response, especially since Rich had slipped into his Dom voice, too.

  “Iris?”

  Donny’s use of her name brought her attention back to him. “Yes?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” That one had been a bit easier. She wasn’t used to compliments.

  Donny’s smile, slow and sweet, brought hers out in turn. When he began to lean in, she met him halfway. His kiss was soft and subtle, a warm and wet sharing of lips and tongues. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he edged closer. The change in his position almost begged her to lie flat. When he ended their kiss, her back was on the mattress and he hung above her. He stroked her face once more, using that same finger. Then he moved that finger south and circled her breast.

  Her breath caught, and Iris knew he not only heard it he saw it and felt it, too. Donny leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips before kissing a path down her cheek, to her neck, and then lower until he nuzzled her nipple.

  Iris’s soft moan was likely the sound he’d been waiting for. He licked, he lapped, he nuzzled, and he even nipped. His head moved back and forth as he made certain his attention was evenly distributed. Everything he did not only totally turned her on it built her up and it leveled her. She arched into him, and he pulled a nipple between his lips and suckled strongly.

  Iris felt that suckling tug an invisible line between her nipple and her clit. Her nectar flowed, and her pussy throbbed, as if his cock already was within her body and her pussy meant to keep it there.

  Donny lifted his lips and blew cool air on her moistened flesh. Iris shivered, and her nipple puckered even more tightly.

  “Next time, I’m going to see if your juices taste as good as I think they do. But right now, sweet Iris, I want to slide into your wet heat and rock you to bliss. Softly. Gently. Thoroughly.”

  “Yes, please.”

  She expected him to cover her, but instead, he lifted her, reversed their positions, and brought her over him. Her knees bracketed his hips, and the sensation of his naked cock against her folds made her moan.

  Rich held out a small square packet. Iris met his gaze as she took it. She thought she might be embarrassed, one brother watching the other make love to her. Instead, everything felt right, as if this was how it had always been meant to be.

  Iris opened the packet and smoothed the latex into place. Donny reached up and stroked her face. She met his gaze.

  “Ride me, Iris. Take me inside and take what you need.”

  “I need to please you.”

  His look softened, and once more, Iris’s throat felt tight. She’d experienced more pure emotion in the last hour than she had in all of her life to date.

  “Trust me, sweetheart, you’ve already pleased me more than any woman ever has. Let’s see if we can come together.”

  He lifted her again so all Iris had to do was reach down and place his sheathed cock at the opening to her body. Then he eased her down, and she felt every hot inch of him enter her. She closed her eyes just for a moment because it felt so good. When she opened her eyes again, it was to encounter Donny’s grin.

  “You feel damn fine around my cock, sweetheart. Damn fine.” Donny reached up and covered her breasts with his hands, using his fingers to stroke the sides while catching her nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

  “So do you.” With her hands braced on his chest, she began to move on him, a slow, undulating ride, easing up and then down on him, adding little swirls that brushed her clit over the nest of curls that surrounded his shaft. Her arousal heated and a wonderful urgency entered her blood. Her heart raced, her breathing hitched, and a subtle trembling made her chorography less rhythmic.

  Donny squeezed her nipples tight. The tiny nip of pain went straight to her clit. She felt the increased wetness on his cock and knew by the look in his eyes he understood her body’s reaction.

  “Come here.” His hands left her breasts to span her back, and he drew her down.

  One hand moved up and anchored in her hair, and the other slid down to just above her ass. He brought her close until her breasts nestled on his chest. His kiss was hot and carnal, and his tongue completely drank her down. Iris was lost in the moment, lost in the passion and the heat. Donny took over the action o
f fucking, thrusting into her over and over and over, his movements slow and strong and deep.

  Iris completely surrendered to the strength of his ardor, releasing all control so that her arousal burned, a wildfire consuming every inch of her. That fire set off her orgasm, dozens of fireworks exploding out, each spasm, each salvo hotter and more colorful than the last. Donny ate her scream and then held her close, his cock deep inside her, nudging her cervix. She felt the pulsing, the added heat of his ejaculate inside the condom, and knew she’d never had such a beautiful moment in all of her life.

  Chapter 10

  Victor Swift didn’t really care what Sergio Torres’s reasons were for wanting permanent possession of Marcia Crane. What he did know was the man offered him five thousand dollars to make it happen.

  It was the easiest five grand he’d ever made—bless Marcia’s avaricious little heart.

  Swift was waiting outside the gate of the Claymore College, the headlights of his dark brown Taurus turned off, the engine running. He only used this vehicle, registered under the name of a man who didn’t exist, for taking the students to their jobs. During daylight hours it was locked away in a shed on a piece of property in the middle of nowhere.

  During daylight hours, Swift drove a Caddy, wore three-piece suits, and appeared exactly how he wanted to be perceived: as a dedicated, successful businessman.

  The image he presented to the world would be closer to the truth if dear old dad hadn’t died after nearly bankrupting the family. Bernard Swift had been consumed with being altruistic. The man donated thousands of dollars he could ill afford, primarily to this damn school. Clearly, he’d forgotten that old saw that charity began at home.

  Through various ventures—some legal and some not—Victor was on his way to returning the bank account he inherited from his father to its former glory. He flicked a look at the dashboard clock. It was just shy of eleven on a Thursday night.

  Exactly on time, the back door of the car opened. He recognized Marcia, and if he hadn’t, the scent of that perfume she always wore would have been a dead giveaway. He couldn’t complain, even if he would have to spend most of the drive back from Dallas with the windows down. The perfume had been a gift from Torres, and the woman was smart enough to wear it for the man.

  Tonight, of course, was different. Marcia was aware of that, even if she didn’t have the full picture. But she would, shortly after he delivered her to Torres.

  “Everything went well?” She’d been given specific instructions once she’d accepted the proposition presented to her.

  “Yes, I followed your instructions exactly.” That much was evident by the presence of the backpack she set on the seat beside her.

  As was her custom, Marcia sat back quietly as he played chauffeur and drove her to the city.

  He’d seen the calculation in the young woman’s eyes more than once. Ah, to be twenty-two again and so full of self-assurance. Miss Crane mistook Torres’s ardor and the fact that he gave her small gifts for his being smitten with her. She likely felt completely safe with the man, certain that she could get him to do anything she wanted. When Swift had contacted Marcia yesterday with the offer of a permanent placement, he knew, just by her tone of voice, that she’d assumed Torres wanted to marry her.

  Swift understood now that had been the Latino’s plan all along. Torres had deliberately cultivated his “relationship” with Marcia Crane. Had he always planned to keep the young woman? Probably.

  Swift wasn’t bothered by any second guesses or misplaced feelings of guilt. Marcia Crane could have said no right from the outset, when the scholarship offer had been made to her. He’d explained what would be expected of her in the “work program.” That had been the first time he’d seen calculation in her brown eyes.

  Victor Swift had steered a couple of dozen young women through this process to date, but none had been more eager or seemed to enjoy as much the duties required as had Marcia Crane.

  She was also the only woman to receive an offer of permanent placement. Swift acknowledged he’d have to make certain this wasn’t something that happened too often. True, all the women receiving scholarships in exchange for sex were women from disadvantaged backgrounds, with no dynamic families waiting in the wings to seek after their wellbeing.

  However, allowing a number of women to disappear from the college would create a pattern. That would be a mistake, and mistakes were one thing Swift was bent on avoiding.

  He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror. Marcia was looking out her window as Interstate 10 sped past. But he caught that smug look, that sense of entitlement she wore like a second skin. He wondered where her mind was, if she was imagining herself with a future married to a wealthy man, with luxury homes, expensive shopping trips, and real chauffeurs at her fingertips.

  He’d respected her for not pretending the nights away from her all-female school were a hardship. Some of the young women had perfected the mask of martyrdom. But he’d been invited to watch a few of the girls in action over the last year or so.

  When they screamed their climaxes, he knew they were enjoying the sex more than they wanted to admit. Swift shrugged. Some women needed to play the role of the victim in order to get off, as if they had to have the ability to claim they were forced as an excuse for giving in to their natural, sexual urges.

  Whatever floats your boat. It was a fucked-up society that made women feel ashamed of their bodies and the pleasure they could experience physically through sex.

  He wouldn’t ask Torres, or his people, what Marcia’s future was to be. For better or worse, his association with her ended tonight.

  Swift had an appointment with Barbara Lucas tomorrow afternoon in Greensboro. Likely, she would accept the offer and would be installed at the college in time for the next semester. Adding her to his inventory, and the one-time bonus for Miss Crane, would keep his books well balanced. In the meantime, he still had five other women in the program at the college.

  Thanks to that recent movie about bondage, a couple of those women were willing to submit to some of his more dominant clients. That always pleased him because he could charge more for the specialized service.

  “This is a different neighborhood than you usually bring me to.”

  Her voice sounded observant but not alarmed. “Yes, sorry, I forgot to mention. Señor Torres apologizes, but he couldn’t end his meeting here any sooner, and he didn’t want to wait to…see you.”

  Smug returned to the woman’s face, and Swift had to work at not laughing.

  He pulled his Taurus around the darkened building, a warehouse with a sign that read S & J Exports dimly lit above a door. There were two men waiting by the side entrance. One of them stepped forward and opened the back passenger door.

  Marcia didn’t blink at the deference the two men showed her. She stood aside while one of them fetched her bag. She didn’t even say good-bye when she eagerly stepped out of his car and into her future.

  A part of him would like to be present when she learned the truth—because Sergio Torres already had a wife, the mother of his six children. Swift had the sense that Marcia Crane would soon lose that smug look.

  But that was none of his business. He dismissed her from his thoughts as he headed back to Waco.

  * * * *

  Rich and Donny dropped her off at her apartment just after noon hour on Friday. She would have felt bereft to suddenly be alone had it not been for Rich’s parting words.

  “We’ll come for you around five. Pack your toothbrush and one change of clothing—something you can go out shopping in on Sunday.” The inference was clear. Between tonight and Sunday, she’d be spending a lot of time naked.

  Being naked could lead to some very good things. Iris grinned. “Five it is. I’ll be ready.”

  Unfortunately, being on her own until five p.m. left Iris with too many hours, as far as she was concerned, to be alone with her own thoughts and, yes, her own self-doubts.

  Despite the fact that her
apartment had been pristine when she’d moved in just days before, she decided the best thing she could do was give it a top-to-bottom cleaning. That took care of two whole hours.

  In her bedroom, she pulled out her single suitcase. It was one she could use as a carry-on bag if she ever took a flight. She wasn’t even certain why she’d purchased it. She didn’t travel, not even to Austin to visit her family. Iris pushed aside the ugly emotions that tried to surface when her thoughts turned to her mother and siblings. Instead, she packed everything Rich had told her to and then set the suitcase by the door.

  Iris still had more than an hour to go, so she decided to spend that time online. It wouldn’t hurt to learn as much as she could about the D/s relationship dynamic ahead of time. A part of her urged her not to go there. It really only mattered how the three of them chose to define this relationship they were building. That was what Rich and Donny had said, and it was what Christopher had said. But the quest for knowledge had always been something that would grab Iris and make her crazy. It didn’t matter the subject, either. Whatever bit of trivia she encountered that piqued her curiosity, Iris could lose herself for hours, researching.

  It didn’t take her long to understand that, in this particular case, she was in way over her head. Of course, by that time, her fascination had overwhelmed her inner voice of caution. Good heavens, there were a lot of things happening in the world of BDSM that made her squirm in her chair. Some of the activities people indulged in downright scared the crap out of her. She spent more time than she should have thinking about things like breath control, anal torture, edge play, and frigging. By the time five o’clock rolled around, she had worked herself into a state bordering on frantic.

  Iris opened the door when the knock came, uncertain if she wanted to go forward with this or not. Then she met the gazes of both men who stood on the stoop—two men she was beginning to know, men who were content to wait and let her look her fill. Her fears began to ebb, and that chattering voice of doubt began to quieten.