Ray, Helena - A Bride for Two Playboys [Male Order, Texas 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Helena Ray

  “I’ll try.” Robin could never deny Bryant anything.

  Chapter 6

  Sweat poured down the back of Robin’s neck as she hefted another banker’s box full of crumbling letters and sketches to her small desk. She opened the lid and sighed at the contents. She had seen all of these before and had precisely and systematically archived each of the seemingly endless pieces of papers. Once more she began the tedious task of cross-checking the contents of yet another box with her notes. Letters? Check. Garden sketch? Check.

  The garden. Oh, the garden. Robin couldn’t help but smile at the recent memory of lying in the lush undergrowth, inhaling the sweet mixture of flowers and Bryant.

  A determined shake of her head cleared the memory and refocused her attention on the task at hand. Funny, her mood fluctuated constantly these days between frustration and satisfaction. Work was such a dead end, but her private life had taken an unexpected and slightly confusing turn for what she thought was the best.

  Back to work, she reminded herself. One by one, each and every document in the box matched with the list Robin had compiled. And with that, Robin had searched through each box twice, not including her initial sweep of all the documents.

  She dug through her bag and produced the 1950s book on the Abrams mansion that served as the primary guide for her research. She flipped to the bibliography yet again and shook her head in defeat. The book relied heavily on a series of letters written in the latter half of the 1920s that illuminated the design processes Max Abrams used in all his work. Those letters were half the reason Robin was in Male Order. But even after another sweep of the Abrams archives, Robin came up empty.

  She got up to stretch her legs then leaned against the wall of the rickety portable building. Her efforts were futile. The online archive showed the letters as a carefully archived part of the collection, but they were nowhere to be found in the messy piles of papers Robin had encountered here.

  Exhausted, Robin let herself collapse on the floor, bumping her head against the wall. With about half an hour until Melvin returned to the archive, maybe she could take a power nap to help things straighten out. Power naps were an essential tool in any scholar’s arsenal. She turned to lie on her side, and a bundle of papers held together by a rubber band came to her attention. They were stuffed behind a banker’s box. She had just gone through that box the previous day. How did she overlook that? Were they the missing papers?

  Renewed by academic curiosity, Robin stretched to grab the papers. They weren’t in a box, but hadn’t Melvin said she had access to the entire archive? That access had to include the several papers strewn about the small room’s dusty floor, right? Robin sat cross-legged and placed the pile gently on her lap and painstakingly removed the rubber band.

  They weren’t the letters. Disappointment welled in her chest but was quickly replaced by a keen inquisitiveness. She paged through the papers, confused about what information they held. They appeared to be forms documenting some sort of sale. Understanding dawned in Robin’s mind. Receipts.

  Each was from a different prominent auction house. One from Christie’s, another from Sotheby’s, another from Bonham’s. Her heart plummeted to her stomach when she perused a receipt. It was in the form of an e-mail from the Christie’s main office in London and confirmed a deposit in a Swiss bank account belonging to one M. Blockmin. As she read further, she saw the cause of the deposit—the sale of a 1927 letter from Max Abrams for one thousand five hundred British pounds. Robin did a quick conversion in her head. That was nearly two thousand five hundred dollars! For one letter!

  Pages flew as Robin examined the receipts. One from Bonham’s for one thousand dollars. Another from Sotheby’s for nineteen hundred. All addressed to one “M. Blockmin.” The name was suspiciously close to the only person who could siphon from the archive without anyone noticing. Robin’s head spun from the implications of her discovery. Melvin was selling the vital Abrams letters for his own profit.

  She quickly replaced the rubber band around the documents and shoved them back into the corner where she found them. Her heart raced as she flattened her back against the wall. She had to tell Alexander about this. There was no other choice. He was the only one who could do anything about the letters, and he had the wealth to coax them out of the hands of their new owners. She buried her head in her hands, fearing the upcoming confrontation.

  The door to the portable building squeaked open, and the unmistakable shuffle of Melvin’s heavy feet sounded through the building.

  “Robin!” His squawk rattled her nerves even more. “Robin, you simply must read these letters before you organize them. You’re getting the boxes all messed up.”

  She sighed at his baseless whining and pulled herself to her feet. “Yes, Melvin?” She hoped her hesitant tone didn’t betray her knowledge of his clandestine dealings.

  “Robin,” he said, sounding hugely exasperated. “You put the 1924 letters in the box with the 1923 sketches. What were you thinking?” He hoisted his significant weight closer.

  “I–I–I just kept them where—”

  “Are you accusing me of not keeping the archive in order?”

  Robin paused before answering. She could accuse him of quite a bit right now. “I’m just saying that—”

  “You know, Robin—” He scooted uncomfortably close to her, and she scrambled for her bag and found herself cornered against her desk. “—there are ways I could forgive your insubordination and not report you to the Meadows curators.”

  He leered closer, and his acrid odor filled her nostrils. Her attention was drawn to the sweat caught in his thick black arm hair, and the contents of her stomach began to rise. He leaned a hand on the desk and created a small opening between himself and a neighboring stack of boxes. Robin clutched her bag and shot through the newly opened passageway. With speed she hadn’t known she was capable of, she darted to the door.

  “I need to go find Mr. Abrams,” she managed to squeak before racing out of the door and back toward the main house.

  * * * *

  Robin paused before entering Alexander’s private card room and admired the ornate solid gold doorknob beneath her fingers. Everything about Alexander screamed wealth and refinement, and frankly, it scared her. Alexander had been on good behavior for the past week, but Robin still got nervous before seeing him. He needed to know about the letters and criminal activity of his employee, Melvin Blackmon, and she knew he would not like this visit.

  Robin took a deep breath and remembered her promise to Bryant to attempt to get along with Alexander. Truthfully, keeping that promise hadn’t been too hard this week. Ever since learning that Bryant shared his sexual conquests with Alexander, fantasies of nights between the two strong, handsome men filled her dreams. On the nights she lay alone in her bed, she couldn’t help but touch herself thinking of both of them pleasuring her at the same time or taking one in her mouth while the other fucked her.

  Robin finally turned the doorknob and leaned on the heavy oak door. It opened slowly to reveal yet another pocket of extreme luxury in the Abrams mansion. She took in the towering wooden fireplace carved to look like a small Greek temple and the furniture that looked as if it had been plucked from every young girl’s fantasy of becoming a princess. Finally, she saw the mansion’s Prince Charming sprawled across a tall armchair. His legs were kicked over one arm of the chair, and he cradled some sort of magazine against his knees. Funny, the magazine seemed out of place in this lap of luxury. As she edged her way into the room, Robin strained to see what so occupied Alexander’s attention. Her breath stopped in her chest when she saw the name emblazoned across the front. Pearls and Chains. Male Order’s BDSM shop. He was reading a BDSM catalog!

  Alexander pulled his attention away from the catalog and turned toward Robin. The look on his face indicated that her intrusion was very unwelcome.

  “What?” Venom saturated his voice.

  “Hi, Alexander.” Robin flashed a smile, hoping it would re
mind him of their friendly interactions as of late.

  “What, Lawrence?”

  “I just needed to tell you something regarding the archives. If this isn’t a good time…”

  “Of course it’s not a good time!” Alexander’s voice rose in volume. “I’m in my fucking card room, my private card room, not my goddamn office. I want to be left alone!”

  Robin knew she shouldn’t respond to the petulant heir’s shouting, but the anger in his voice broke her grip on her control.

  “It’s one question! One question, Alexander.”

  “Who told you that you could call me by my first name?” His voice was at a full shout now. “Our relationship is a professional necessity. I’m not your friend, Ms. Lawrence.”

  “I’m sleeping with your best friend! I think a little familiarity should be expected.”

  “Exactly! You’re sleeping with my best friend. That’s more than enough reason for you to leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Oh, I had guessed that you would be man enough to handle that.” Robin’s tone was cool but furious.

  “Not man enough?” Alexander rose to his feet and strode swiftly to where Robin stood. He extended himself to his full height, nearly a foot taller than her, and Robin cowered at his massive figure. Maybe she had gotten herself in over her head. “I assure you, if I so pleased, I would show you that I am more than man enough for your needs.”

  Robin edged backward until she was flat against the wall. Alexander followed her and pressed his body against her. Until then, Robin had failed to notice the erection covered by Alexander’s smoking jacket. He leaned his hips into her stomach. His cock felt impossibly hard and long as he rocked his hips against her, and she sensed her pussy getting wet at the sensation. She willed her arousal to go away, but her body refused to listen when Alexander’s strokes against her stomach became harder and faster.

  “Is that man enough for you?”

  Chapter 7

  What on earth was he doing? He hardly went around rubbing himself against nosy, prying bitches’ stomachs on a regular basis. Robin was different. Even though he found her despicable, he couldn’t help his attraction to her. Despite her constant nagging at him and her flaunting of her relationship with Bryant, she was irresistible with her tight little body and perfectly formed pink mouth. He wanted her. Badly.

  “Huh, Ms. Lawrence?”

  God, he shouldn’t have been reading the Pearls and Chains catalog. All he could think as he looked at the toys was wrapping those leather ankle cuffs around Robin’s delicate little legs and hooking her against a wall. That way he could get a full view of that pussy, and Robin’s hands would still be free so she could stroke Bryant while Alexander fucked her. Except that fantasy would never happen.

  When Robin interrupted his session with the catalog, his arousal intensified at seeing the object of his fantasies, and his anger mounted knowing that she would never bring those fantasies to fruition. All he wanted was to dominate her, to make her realize what pleasure could be had by submitting to his every desire. Right now the smell of her juices had him desiring to rip off those short shorts and plunge his tongue into her dripping cunt.

  Just as he neared the brink of arousal from pressing against Robin, she slipped away from the wall.

  “What on earth do you think you are doing, Alexander Abrams?” Her lips had turned a shade of deep red. He didn’t know if that was due to arousal or anger.

  “Whatever the hell I want!” The absence of her soft body under his rock-hard cock infuriated him. “This is my house, and my word overrules everything else.”

  “That doesn’t allow you to rub yourself up against anything that will stay still, you pig!”

  “Sure smells like you didn’t mind.”

  God, she looked damn sexy when her skin got all red with fury.

  “Fuck you!” She tried to run to the door, but Alexander reached out and caught her wrist and easily pulled her in front of him. He watched several different emotions play across her face, anger, anxiety, worry. Excitement. She settled on a stressed and confused expression as she looked up at him.

  Still holding her wrist in one hand, he placed the other on her shoulder and dragged it slowly down her arm, switching to her waist at her elbow, then across her hip, and finally resting lightly on the side of her ass. Robin shuddered at his light, slow touch.

  He leaned over, closing the substantial gap between their heights, and lowered his face to hover above hers. He watched her tongue dart out to wet her full, red lips, and she tilted her face upward to his.

  “Robin,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing hers, “get the fuck out of my room before I call the guards.” He released her body and returned to his perch on the armchair.

  Robin stood, still shuddering, with her mouth agape.

  “Out!” Alexander bellowed, raising his voice to intimidate her.

  Robin turned to the door and, as she opened it, shot a dumbfounded glance at Alexander. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she hurried out the door.

  He sank deeper into his armchair. Well, now he’d done it. That little showing may have given him some much needed friction on his cock, but he had destroyed any hope of sharing in Bryant’s bounty. He untied the belt on his red silk smoking jacket and unbuttoned his silk wool pants. He reached down, wrapped his hand around his shaft, and started stroking. At least he could get rid of this tension and forget about the whole mess with Robin and Bryant for a while. He conjured up a memory of a New Year’s Eve party at his private suite at the Monte Carlo Casino Hotel and the naked models in the hot tub on the terrace. One of them had the same chocolate brown hair and milky skin as... Damn it! He couldn’t get Robin out of his thoughts.

  As if to add to his frustration, he heard yet another knock on his door.

  “Does no one understand the meaning of private card room? Just a goddamn minute!”

  * * * *

  “Whoa there, girl.” Bryant tugged on Constant Comment’s lead as he pulled her back toward the entrance to the stables. She had been a rough one, for sure. Her owners had used their clout with the Abrams family to push past the others on their training waiting list. Al hadn’t been particularly pleased with the transaction, but Bryant needed the extra cash they had been willing to front.

  While Bryant was far from impoverished, moving back to America had diminished his income significantly. He’d had to build a new client base for his training operation, and the prize money to be had in European competition eclipsed anything offered at a Texas rodeo. He handed Constant Comment off to one of the stable hands and headed in the direction of his apartment.

  True, it wasn’t much in comparison to the magnificent Abrams mansion, but Bryant was quite content with his humble abode. He had turned down Alexander’s offers to move into the main house, preferring to have something of his own closer to the horses. He had furnished it sparsely, but with high-quality pieces. All those years hanging around Al and the billionaire crowd had rubbed off on him a bit, he thought as he flopped onto his bed.

  He tucked his hands behind his head and enjoyed the moment. He hadn’t been this happy with his life in a while. Business was booming, he was about to get that damned horse out of his hair, and Robin and Alexander seemed to be on good terms. Robin. His dick hardened at the thought of that little spitfire.

  From the instant he’d met her, she had lighted up his world. The way her eyes glowed with excitement then ignited with passion drove him crazy. When they made love, he had felt a release unlike anything he had ever experienced. That’s when he knew. Over the years, many women had walked in and out of his life. While they were each special in their own way, he could never bring himself to do anything out of the ordinary. He had never wanted to court someone. Then he met Robin and had spent each waking moment since figuring out how to keep her in his life forever.

  The only issue was Alexander. Al had always been dead set on this whole ménage business, citing his parents as an example and claiming that a w
oman as special as his own mother needed not one, but two men. Bryant had played along, never really committing to the concept until he joined Alexander in Europe. There, Al had found women who refused to have any fewer than two men, and Bryant learned the true pleasure of a ménage. No longer did he think he could find true completion without watching Al pleasure a woman at the same time Bryant fucked her.

  That was what he thought about when he delved into the sweet, honeyed depths of Robin’s pussy. She was more than enough woman for at least two men, but he wanted to give her more, send her further over the edge. He had heard the screams women made when he and Alexander drove their ample cocks into them at the same time and knew the feeling of their tight asses spasming around his cock as they came. The idea of being buried to the hilt in Robin’s sweet, round ass while Alexander sent her into oblivion with his mouth, well, that was the idea Bryant got off to on his nights alone. And if he was entirely honest with himself, that’s what he got off to on nights with Robin, as well.

  Robin deserved the whole package, though. He wanted Al to love her like he did. He couldn’t just use Alexander’s companionship to satisfy his and Robin’s sexual needs. The three of them needed to be in a relationship like that of Alexander’s parents and the whole Abrams line. Robin and Al both deserved that level of support and love, and Bryant wanted that more than anything. But surviving in a relationship that depended on Alexander Abrams not losing his temper? That was the only thing that worried Bryant. However, that thought had to wait. He needed to see if Robin and Al could survive each other.

  His hand had wandered to the front of his pants as he thought, but he didn’t realize this until he heard a knock on his door. He grumbled as he attempted to will away his erection. Probably one of the damned stable hands. He sighed, knowing how much he needed to get back to work.