She was kidding, of course, and Drake took it that way. He scooted forward to untie her ankle restraints. “I hope you two will continue to be my play partners,” he said, perfectly amiably.
Jesse shrugged. He stood and picked up one of the fallen booze bottles. “Sounds good to me. Rose, do you have any objections?” He actually began to make a drink as though they’d just finished a hand of bridge.
“Well,” said Rose, stretching out her leg experimentally and rubbing it. “I have to say, that was the most powerful orgasm of my entire life. I’m still hurting.”
Drake was untying her other ankle. He frowned. “Hurting? In what way?”
“Oh, nothing you did. I’ve got a thing called PCOS—Polycystic Ovary Syndrome—and I guess when a woman climaxes, all of her inner womanly organs get crunched, in a way. It’s like my uterus has contractions, and it makes all the cysts hurt, so sometimes I try to avoid orgasms.”
Drake still frowned with concern as he rubbed her leg, but Jesse quipped, “How difficult is it to avoid? Like, you have to swerve in the road, or leave the room if you feel one coming on?”
Rose had to giggle, too. “No, that would only happen if I was wearing vibrating panties. The PCOS is the reason why I said I was safe, Drake. It’s highly unlikely I could ever get pregnant.”
Rose knew Drake wouldn’t give a shit—would probably even be happy that he had a play partner who was infertile—but she was surprised Jesse seemed to care so much. He was buttoning his jeans, standing in the diffuse light bouncing in from the huge plate glass window, looking like the billboard model he was, and he was frowning. “That must be so upsetting. Is there anything you can do to fix it?”
Rose shrugged. She had come to terms with it. “I doubt it, unless they’ve come up with something new. I take birth control pills to deal with my imbalanced hormones.”
Jesse persisted. “But didn’t you want to have a child to begin with?”
Drake assisted Rose to stand, and he even handed her items of clothing so she could dress again. “I’m sure I did, once upon a time. All teens probably dream of being a mother. You know, during those years you think you’ll share an apartment with your three best friends and you’ll all be stewardesses.”
“Flight attendants,” Drake corrected her with a hint of a smile as her bra dangled from his fingertip.
Rose snatched it from him. “Flight attendants. And you’ll all marry rich billionaires—”
“I’m a rich billionaire,” Drake informed her.
Rose grinned. “Well, there goes that whole theory right down the drain, right? None of the girls at my Jacksonville high school became a flight attendant, and none are married yet as far as I know.”
Jesse nodded. “Childhood dreams die hard.”
Now Rose was the persistent one. “Do you want children? You must, or you wouldn’t be bringing it up.”
“Sure. Why not? If I can ever find a woman who doesn’t think I’m gay and who is willing to marry me, why not?”
“But you move around so much. Don’t you go wherever the job is, like me?”
“Well, yeah, I have, up until now. But I think I’ve found enough new clients here in the Coachella Valley to keep me busy for the next ten years.”
Drake wasn’t even putting on his own shirt. Of course, he had every reason to parade around shirtless. “Jack Scholl wants you to redo his house next.”
“Does he? He’s that shoe insert magnate. You see, Rose? I’ve got plenty of work. I could stick around Last Chance and have a baby.”
Of course Jesse was grinning and talking lightly, but Rose said, “Well, that just about cuts it, then. You won’t want me.”
“There are other ways to have children.” Jesse was suddenly serious.
Drake was even agreeing. “Sure. You could change the life of some poor hopeless unwanted kid.”
Rose changed the subject. She never liked it when the subject was herself. “What’s that thing you put on the couch?”
It was amazing the way Drake turned on his Dom persona again. “It’s a Sybian.”
Jesse and Rose looked at each other with excitement. “The Sybian Scene!” they both whispered simultaneously, with reverence.
Drake strode to the saddle-shaped black object he’d tossed onto the couch when he’d entered. Carrying it to the sideboard, he plugged it in and opened a black bag. There were several different penis sized attachments as well as a forefinger. Maybe that one was for men.
“This must’ve been one of the first prototypes, like the one on your menu,” said Drake. “There’s no trademark on it or label.”
Jesse asked, “Did one of your friends, or their fathers, invent this?”
“Something like that,” Drake said curtly.
Rose asked, “So it’s a masturbation machine, basically? Oh Jeez, I could never come this way. Penetration alone just doesn’t do it for me.”
Drake ran his fingertips over a pad of raised bumps on the saddle’s attachment. It was already installed with a medium-sized penis that was much smaller than Jesse’s and smaller than Drake’s own. “That’s what this part of the attachment must be for, clitoral stimulation. Lots of women can’t come with penetration alone. That’s why I forced Jesse to eat you.”
Jesse was heading toward the can to wash up. Over his shoulder he tossed, “Yes, such a show of force, Drake. You really needed to make me.”
Drake grinned and shrugged. “Your hands were still bound.”
“I didn’t need my hands to eat that pretty pussy.”
Rose felt herself blushing. She had never had sex with two men at the same time, and it was invigorating, thrilling, and everything in between. “I have no need of this machine with the two of you—that is, if you really want to continue to be play partners.”
Drake’s smile was genuine. He drew Rose close to him. The feel of his warm shoulder against her cheek was heavenly, and she breathed deeply of his masculinity. “Of course I do, Rose. My whole life I’ve been fascinated by the exchange of power.”
“And you’ve exchanged it with a lot of people,” Rose said simply.
“I know. I think I’m getting kind of sick of that, the nameless, faceless, trivial encounters. I’d like to explore it in more depth with you and Jesse.”
“And no one else?”
Drake stroked her hair, and Rose felt infinitely safe, comforted, secure. “No one else. There, see? That’s a new thing for me.”
“Is that the new thing you’re exploring? Then the new thing will get old fast.” Rose didn’t want to push this newly monogamous Dom, but she had no wish to repeat any of those experiences with fellows who slept in their grandmother’s basement. Or—perhaps the best bad date of all time—the blind date who took Rose to Denny’s only to flee when some cops and a K9 dog entered. She had to spend hours at the station house explaining how she’d met the ex-con. She didn’t want Drake to be like the guy who freaked out when someone knocked at his door and demanded she hide in the closet.
“Somehow,” said Drake, “I’m starting to think that might not happen.”
Rose drew away so she could look Drake in his piercing, critical eyes. “What makes us so different from the thousands of partners you’ve already had?”
Drake looked sideways at the closed bathroom door. “Well, for one, I’ve never been attracted to another man before. Jesse’s the first.”
Rose was stunned. She assumed Drake, being a jet-setting hedonist, had been around the block and had had tons of men in his time. He certainly seemed a natural when handling Jesse. “Really? But you’ve had men as…play partners before, right?”
“Oh, right. But never touching. Just happening to be in the same room at the same time, like maybe two guys flogging the same woman.” Rose giggled, but Drake was dead serious. “This is the first time I’ve actually wanted to play with the other man.”
Jesse was out of the bathroom now, rubbing a hand towel over his face and neck. “The first time?” he prompted.
“Really?” Jesse looked at Drake with fondness. “I’m flattered.”
Drake grunted gruffly. “Don’t get too flattered. You’re still my pet.”
Jesse said, “I like how you call us pets, not slaves. I’ve heard guys calling their play partners slaves, and it carries over into their daily lives. I wouldn’t serve you in public, for instance.”
“Nor would I expect you to. How do you feel about being collared, though?”
Jesse looked at a wall and shrugged. “If the collar was stylish enough, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Rose, “if it looked like a pretty choker, I wouldn’t mind. But none of this leash in public business—”
“Or body part piercing,” added Jesse.
Drake chuckled. “I usually call people ‘slaves,’ but with you two suddenly it didn’t seem right.”
Rose didn’t want to prod further. She knew Drake had already exhibited maturity beyond his comfort zone and she was happy with this for today. “So what’s the story behind Burt Macklin, the guy I thought was an airline executive?”
“Yeah,” said Jesse. “If I’m keeping an eye out for him, I should know why.”
Drake sighed heavily and took a gulp of his drink. “He’s some corrupt official that apparently my dad was buying off fifteen years ago. Now that my dad’s put me in charge, Burt wants to continue the relationship. I’m hesitant because I don’t know exactly what it entails.”
Rose frowned. “What’s he got over your dad’s head? I understand if you don’t want to answer.”
Drake said, “No, it’s fine. If we’re to be play partners, there should be honesty in everything, because a good pet knows that none of our words or activities go beyond these walls. Right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Jesse said right off the bat.
“Sure,” Rose agreed, a bit less heartily.
“Well, I guess Burt leased my dad a large portion of his cattle ranch in exchange for an interest-free ‘loan,’ essentially a bribe. I doubt my dad ever expected to get repaid. It was just a way of saying ‘thanks for not putting this land out for competitive bid.’ By law, because it’s federal land, they need to at least offer it out for bid.”
Rose said, “I haven’t seen any women ranchers.”
“The leasing part probably isn’t hugely illegal—I guess the government can do what it wants—but the bribe part is definitely questionable, and I think Burt’s expecting another bribe from me.”
Rose said, “But if you don’t do it, the land can revert back to the government.”
“Right. Burt told me some of it was given to the State for some lizard preserve. There seemed to be some kind of big importance to this lizard preserve. I was thinking of driving out there to check it out. Joaquin Miller—Jesse knows him, he’s the ranch manager—well, he clammed up when I asked questions about it. Seems mysterious.”
“You want company?” Jesse asked. “I mean, we’re done for the day, right, Rose?”
Rose stuck out her lower lip. “Of course. If you’d rather go look at some lizard preserve than paint my naked body, by all means.”
Drake put an arm around her. He looked down at her with what could only be called affection. “Of course, my pet, you’ll come, too, won’t you? I’d like it to be the three of us.”
“Of course.” She had to be back at the Cavern in three hours, but Rose wanted to go with the two men so badly, she didn’t mention that.
Chapter Nine
They drove through the desert scrub toward Asbestos Mountain, Drake’s GPS just showing a whole lot of nothingness on either side of them. But Jesse’s artistic eye captured quite a bit. At this time of year, the creosote brush scrub presented a lovely watercolor palette under the overcast sky, and Mt. San Jacinto itself was already dusted with snow. But they weren’t going up in elevation. All of Drake’s pastureland lay on the desert floor itself, with hundreds of little pocket canyons leading up into subalpine terrain. Allegedly, the lizard preserve included a large chunk of a Peregrine Creek that no one could find.
“Why do I get the feeling that Burt Macklin douchetard was blowing it out his ass?” Drake growled as he steered the truck over the rutted dirt road. “I haven’t seen a single mention of any lizards.”
Rose was sitting between the two men on the front bench seat. “Some of these little preserves aren’t on any official map. That would defeat the whole purpose of being a preserve if every moron and his brother went out there, disturbing the lizards. In Florida there were tons of tiny little preserves. You had to be real careful where you fished.”
“Why don’t you just call your father and ask what his deal with Burt was?” Jesse asked.
Drake’s jaw twitched as he stared straight ahead at the road. “Because my father is an asshat. If he did give Macklin all that money, he’d never admit it to me. You know, I’ve gained a lot in life off my father’s money, I’m the first to admit that. But I really don’t like this idea of buying a lease and not giving other companies the chance to bid fairly.”
Rose said, “Maybe no other company wanted the land. What else is there to do out here, other than ranch cattle?”
Drake said, “Exactly. Macklin could’ve at least given the chance to other cattle ranchers, like Amadeo Barbieri. It’s called ‘competitive bidding’ for a reason. We’ve already got plenty of land for our cattle, but leave it up to my father to not allow anyone else access to the neighboring property. Can one of you google for Peregrine Creek, try and find a map?”
While Rose obediently googled on her smart phone, Jesse asked Drake, “What are you going to do about the situation?”
“Well, I’m certainly not paying Macklin, no matter the amount of the ‘loan.’ If BLM can strike a more favorable deal with another rancher, let them. Why should Shining Lands be lining Macklin’s pockets? I had Stony do some snooping and he discovered ole Burt Macklin owns some five-acre spread over at the Seven Hills Estates. You don’t get that kind of parcel on a federal salary.”
“Or you do,” added Jesse, “if you’re corrupt. But if you tell Burt you’re not playing, won’t he just demand a loan from another rancher? Then you haven’t done anything noble and you’re stuck with someone else’s cows on what used to be your land.”
“I thought of that. I think I’ll go over Macklin’s head and report him to his boss.”
“But then you’re also getting your dad into trouble.”
“Who cares? What’s he done for me lately, anyway?” Drake might have realized the absurdity of his statement, for he quickly amended it. “It’s about time my father realizes he can’t just buy everything.”
Jesse liked Drake in this righteous mode. While Jesse got the feeling Drake had spent decades embroiled in sensual, decadent, or downright kinky matters, Jesse liked him that way, too. He had felt unbelievably perverted earlier today, being spanked by this sensual career libertine. Jesse had never been spanked. Models didn’t seem to have that particular bent, and he had pretty much only ever dated models. But being spanked by another man, while eating his semen out of another woman’s pussy, well, that was probably the sum and total of the kink of Jesse’s entire sex life.
Jesse had gotten a little irked when Drake had decided to grab the bound Rose by the hips and plunge his cock into her. Jesse thought, as the first man on the scene, the first one to break down her wall of celibacy, he should have been given that honor. But apparently their “Neapolitan” was agreeable to Rose, and Jesse could hardly complain about the enthusiastic suctioning Drake urged Rose to give him. Jesse had nearly shot his load when Drake had tweaked and bitten his nipple. It heightened the eroticism even more to know he was Drake’s first. Would they do it again? Better yet, would Drake increase their level of intimacy?
Having spent so many years denying he was gay in the slightest, Jesse didn’t guilt himself for bein
g attracted to Drake Stinson. The guy was a powerful, buff alpha male, that was for sure. Like Jesse, Drake had probably spent ages fending off passes from men. Why, now, was Drake finally switching? Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was just toying with Jesse to get to Rose. Jesse wouldn’t blame him. He’d do the same. Rose was a precious, exotic babe, and Jesse hoped he didn’t wind up dueling with Drake for her.
But Drake had said, “I hope you two continue to be my play partners.” A week ago Jesse would have slugged anyone if they had claimed those words would be turning him on so heavily. Now, because the subject in question was Drake Stinson, Jesse didn’t mind at all. It suddenly all made sense. Maybe it was more acceptable to him when Rose was present. Yes, that was it. Rose’s presence and stamp of approval made it all right for two butch, alpha men to touch each other. It had turned Jesse on beyond belief to taste not only Rose’s feminine juices when between her thighs, but Drake’s pungent, salty jism as well. Jesse had to face it. He loved being ordered around by Drake Stinson. Maybe he’d always been a bottom or a sub, or whatever it was called, and just didn’t know it.
“Okay,” said Rose, “there’s a mention of Peregrine Creek and the fact that it does have fringe-toed lizards—wait! Here it is. ‘More than thirty acres of land was donated by publishing magnate Sam Stinson to the Coachella Valley Fringe-Toed Lizard Preserve. The thirty-acre parcel is part of a ten-thousand-acre lease by Mr. Stinson to bring his total Shining Lands Ranch holdings to sixty thousand acres.’ It’s just some little mention in a country club newsletter.”
“Yeah,” grumped Drake. “He probably gave away the whopping thirty acres to appease some tree-huggers or to make himself look good.”
Jesse, the closest to the window on the Mt. San Jacinto side, noticed the tiny creek first. “Whoa. This might be it.”
The little creek meandered through the late November desert, probably just a couple inches higher than it had been during the summer. The water barely moved at all. There was another even less-traveled dirt road off to the side, and Drake pulled in there and parked near some ocotillo and teddy bear cholla cacti.
The Subject Was Rose [The Sunset Palomino Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 8