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

by Cara Covington

  * * * *

  Chance gathered Bailey close, needing to feel her body snuggled flush against his. The intimacy between them had been hottest, the most wonderful…he didn’t think he had enough superlatives to describe it. He knew what they’d shared was more than just sex, but he hesitated to call it what he knew it had been. Way too early to go there, Benedict.

  Logan pulled the blankets up, covering them, and then climbed into the bed so that Bailey lay sandwiched between them. She sighed, a sound of contentment, and Chance couldn’t stop his next words.

  “Stay with us tonight, baby.”

  “Yes, please stay.” Logan echoed his plea.

  Chance felt him press closer to Bailey, and he knew there couldn’t possibly be any space between them and their woman—and Bailey most definitely was their woman.

  “I want to stay. And not just because of what we shared. I think I’d feel safer here, with the two of you. Is that wimpy of me?”

  Chance moved, laying Bailey on her back so he could rise over her and meet her gaze. “No, baby. There’s nothing wimpy about you, Bailey James. You’re a woman who faces life head-on and does the tough stuff, no matter the personal cost.” How could she doubt it? She’d never hesitated when her mother had needed her. From all appearances, she’d set her own life aside and cared for her parent. “And we want you here not just because of what we shared but to be certain you’re safe.”

  “Damn straight.” Logan caressed her chin, turning her face toward him. “Just the thought of the danger you might be in scares the hell out of me.”

  “I really want to be here, with you both, snuggled between you in this enormous bed.” Bailey sighed, a sigh that turned into a yawn.

  Chance kissed her lips, a gentle, affectionate buss. He already wanted her again, but he wouldn’t be greedy. She’d been so tight around him. If either of them took her again too soon, she’d be sore. No, it was a much better idea to just let her rest, safe and sound and warm for the night.

  They stayed cocooned around their woman, and Chance was close to dropping off to sleep when Bailey showed him that, apparently, she had a different idea altogether how the next hour or so would go.

  Quietly, almost stealthily, she made her way under the blankets and then down Chance’s body. Fingers and lips caressed and kissed a path as she headed south. Chance’s cock hardened, clearly not on board with the whole let’s-be-considerate-of-Bailey plan.

  “Um…Bailey? Whatcha doing?”

  From beneath the blankets came a muffled laugh and a single word, “Guess.”

  Chance didn’t have time to offer one. In the next heartbeat she’d moved over him, fisted his cock, and given him a long, luscious lick that rolled his eyeballs straight to the back of his head.

  When he caught his breath, he turned to look at Logan. His brother returned his glance with a huge smile.

  “Our woman has one incredible mouth,” he said.

  “Yeah. Wow.” There simply wasn’t another word in his brain for him to say.

  Logan, who’d so recently covered them, pulled the blankets off once more. Chance put his gaze on Bailey, her lovely naked ass in the air as she knelt between his legs pumping and licking his cock. Her tongue fascinated him, the sight a wet dream come true.

  Then she took him in, took him deep, and it was all he could do not to thrust into the hot, heavenly cavern of her mouth and come, right then and there.

  She released him with a wet plop and looked over at Logan. “Do you have a condom?”

  His brother didn’t need any more encouragement than that simple question. He practically bounced out of bed, opened the bedside table drawer, and withdrew a tiny ticket to bliss.

  He was suited up and making his way behind their woman in barely ten seconds. Watching Logan position himself behind Bailey, knowing from the way his arm moved he was stroking her pussy, checking her readiness, was just about the hottest damn thing he’d ever seen.

  Logan met his gaze. “She’s sopping wet, brother. I do believe our Bailey likes sucking your cock.”

  “She liked sucking yours, too, as I recall. She coated my dick with her juices when you were fucking her mouth.”

  Bailey lifted her mouth from his cock and met his gaze. “I never knew I would enjoy this. But I do…I really do.” She looked over her shoulder at Logan. “I really like being fucked, too. Fuck me, Logan. I need to have your cock inside my pussy. I need to belong to you, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You just return to what you were doing, and I’ll take care of you.”

  Bailey grinned then turned her attention back to Chance’s cock. She gave him another long lick and then sucked him in again. The heat of her mouth and the firm stroke of her hand had him near the edge in no time.

  Chance watched as Logan did what he’d promised, as he reached down, positioned his cock, then grasped Bailey’s hips. Her hum of pleasure when his brother impaled her sent a tingling zap of arousal down his shaft, igniting every erogenous zone in his body.

  Unable to help himself, Chance anchored one hand in her hair. Holding her, guiding her, Chance Benedict reveled in the position of power. His hips began to rock, and it was a wondrous kind of hell holding back just enough that he didn’t hurt her while, at the same time, reaching for as much pleasure as he could grab.

  “Baby, that’s so fucking good.” Chance felt the thrill begin at the base of his spine. Bailey must have sensed how close he was because she cupped his balls in one delicate hand, ran her thumb over them, and squeezed lightly.

  “Such a tight little pussy.” Logan’s tone betrayed his pleasure. He changed position, bent over her.

  Chance saw his brother’s hand leave Bailey’s hip, watched as it slid around to her front and down.

  “Now, damn it.” Logan growled the command even as he moved faster. Chance figured he must be pinching Bailey’s clit because she screamed around his cock, her orgasm consuming her.

  That vibrato against his shaft was all the extra stimulation he needed. Chance anchored a second hand in Bailey’s hair as his seed shot out of his body. He filled her mouth, and each long swallow Bailey took, stroking his shaft, sent him into spasms of pure, hot glory.

  Chapter Ten

  Life in Lusty, Texas, was good. Things had settled down nicely, a blessing Adam Kendall privately attributed to the fact that most of his cousins were married and beginning to raise their families.

  There was no time for shenanigans and intrigue and men making dumb mistakes and women putting themselves in danger when said men and women were occupied changing diapers and coping with the terrible twos. Or so he chose to believe.

  Adam knew first-hand all about the terrible twos because his twins, Marty and Nicky, continued to give him, his brother, and their wonderful wife a run for their money. Two tots against the three of them, and Adam knew they were woefully outnumbered.

  Sleepless nights were about the only thing he really had to worry about these days. Mornings after, like today, he reminded himself if it didn’t involve blasts or bullets, he was blessed.

  The door to the sheriff’s office opened, and Adam nodded to the two men who stepped inside. Since both gentlemen were punctual almost to a fault, he knew it was just approaching one in the afternoon. They had a standing appointment, every two weeks for lunch over at Lusty Appetites—when work assignments allowed. Since they all three were not only related but in law enforcement, their lunches were generally a very interesting combination of family and shoptalk.

  Before he could kick back his chair and head out, his cell phone rang. He never minded getting calls from the good people of Lusty, especially if they happened, like this caller, to be related to him. Of course, it could be argued that most people in Lusty were related to him. But this particular relative held a slightly bigger piece of his heart because she was his wife’s only living blood relative.

  At the moment, his aunt-by-marriage, Maggie Morrison Benedict, who, in turn, was married to his cousins Rick, Trev, and Kevin Bene
dict, sounded worried. He listened for a moment, holding his hand up, an indication to the men who were waiting for him, that he’d be a just a couple of minutes.

  His cousin by-marriage, Joe Grant, and his brother-in-law, Peter Alvarez-Kendall, took up the empty chairs in front of his desk.

  “So, where’s this mysterious guest of yours headed right now, Aunt Maggie?”

  “I suggested he might like to sample the cream puffs over at the restaurant.” Maggie Morrison Benedict sighed. “Adam, maybe I’m just being paranoid. We do get guests who just show up out of the blue. Not everyone books ahead. That’s why the bed and breakfast is here in the first place. Maybe my people senses are off. Everything else seems to be, lately, too.”

  “And maybe you’re not being paranoid at all. Maggie, you have years of experience dealing with people, gained from when you ran that inn on the coast of New Jersey. So, if you think there’s something off about the man, I’d be willing to bet money on your instincts. The fact you sent him over to Kelsey’s means I can get eyes on him, so good thinking. Did he give you his driver’s license? I can run him right now.”

  “Yes, he did. That’s standard procedure. I have the information right here.” She read off her guest’s name and permit number as well as the plate number on his late-model silver Lincoln. Adam copied everything down, fully intending to make a call into the Texas DMV since Maggie’s B&B guest claimed to be Texan.

  It didn’t bother him at all that Joe and Peter—federal cops, both—went ahead and read, upside down, the notes Adam took. What did concern him was the way Joe tensed and the soft curse that colored the air.

  Adam met the man’s gaze but spoke to Maggie. “I’ll take care of this, Aunt Maggie, and I’ll let you know what I think. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Thank you, Adam. I feel better already.”

  Adam ended the call and then raised one eyebrow. “Joe? Do you know this Damion Quest?”

  Joe exhaled. “‘Know’ is such a subjective term. Let’s just say that if this Damion Quest turns out to be the same Damion Quest I met a few weeks ago in Houston, then…I would suggest the situation hereabouts might be about to get interesting.”

  Peter looked to be trying to rub a smile off his face. Adam turned his attention back to Joe. “I suppose ‘interesting’ is also a subjective term?”

  “Oh, you betcha,” Joe admitted. His wide smile told Adam that this particular cousin thought the possibility of “interesting times” for the poor, old-before-his-time sheriff of Lusty was an appealing possibility. “But we won’t know anything until we head on over to the restaurant and see if he’s there.”

  “In that case, let’s go to lunch.” Adam got to his feet, grabbed his hat, and put his right hand on his holster. “You boys carrying?”

  Peter smirked. “I live by the creed, don’t leave home without it.” He lifted the left side of his jacket, showing off his Glock 22.

  Adam looked over at Joe, who just grinned. “Always.”

  Adam didn’t need to see the weapon to know it was identical to Peter’s. A few years back the FBI tended to rely on the Sig Saur P226 but had switched to the Glock. Most of the agents working for the various divisions of the DOJ—Department of Justice—carried similar weapons.

  Adam preferred the Glock himself, though he had several other alternative choices, depending on any given situation. One thing Lusty didn’t have to worry about was whether or not the community could afford the best in arms and munitions.

  It could, and it sure as hell did.

  * * * *

  Damion Quest never went into a situation without doing his homework first. Not even when his handler assured him the circumstances he was about to enter were uncomplicated and his presence there nothing more than a “simple favor” and a “precaution.”

  Another time, he might have protested being tossed into another case without the downtime he was due. But what Damion hadn’t told Porter Wells was that he’d had his eye on this small town for some time now—and had hoped to carve out the opportunity to visit it.

  For the last few years, Damion had moved from one deep cover assignment to the next. He’d even been over in Afghanistan a few years ago for several months. His command of Dari, one of that country’s official languages, and his chameleon-like ability to blend into any situation had made him a definite asset.

  While in-country, he encountered an Air Force captain who’d been rescued from a mission gone bad by a squad of Navy SEALs. Damion had actually had a hand in that operation, his last before heading home, having infiltrated a local village and gotten the intel required to pinpoint the captain’s most likely position.

  Damion had sat with the man while he was in the hospital since he had to await his own transport out, anyway. The captain, who at the time had been under the influence of some pretty powerful drugs, had told him all about his hometown—a place where people loved who they loved and lived how they chose. He’d told Damion that he hoped his closest brother and he would be able to build a business together, post-military service, and then find the perfect wife to share between them.

  Damion had wondered, at the time, if what he’d been hearing had been the drugs talking. But once clearheaded, the captain had recalled their conversation and been happy to answer Damion’s questions. Damion had taken a chance and held nothing back, wondering if the ménage families in Lusty had been only of the heterosexual variety. The captain had then told him his own brother was bisexual, and that in Lusty, others were, as well, and no one judged.

  All these years later, that conversation still lingered in Damion’s thoughts.

  Some of the checking he’d done before arriving in Lusty had been to discover whether or not Captain Kendall was still in the Air Force. He’d been delighted to discover that not only was he not, he was currently living in Lusty. He and his brother had an air service together, Kendall Aviation, located at the airstrip at the north end of town. The pair was also married, with two children.

  Damion had found a marriage license that showed Morgan, only, had wed a woman by the name of Tamara Jones. That didn’t mean they weren’t in a ménage marriage. He recalled how Morgan had explained the mechanics of their lifestyle.

  A lifestyle that drew Damion the moment he’d heard of it. At first, he’d consider it to maybe be an interest born of titillation. Most men had sexual fantasies about being with two women, but that had never been something that interested Damion. Bisexual from the time he’d first thought about his “sexual” identity, it was another sort of threesome that held his interest entirely.

  Damion came back to the moment, the sights and sounds and especially the aromas of the lone restaurant in Lusty, called Lusty Appetites. He sat back as the waitress approached, a smile on her face and a plate of pastries in her hand.

  “Here you are. These are fresh-made, just filled moments ago.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” The waitress looked youngish, but the wedding ring on her finger, and something about the sparkle in her eyes, told him she was no underage miss.

  So far, the coffee was good, the service attentive, and the place appeared to be doing a good late-lunch hour, early-afternoon coffee-break kind of business. He could count on breakfast at the B&B on Park Lane but would be on his own for the rest of his meals.

  Of course, he’d need to check out Angel’s Roadhouse, just a few minutes to the north. Not just so that he could have a variety of dining options but because that was where Bailey James worked. He needed to become familiar with as much of this town as possible. Later, he’d look up Wells’s bean counters. Since their last name was Benedict, that might not be as easy as he’d first imagined. The entire town was teeming with Benedicts.

  Damion took a bite out of one of the cream puffs on his plate and felt his taste buds go into spasms of delight. Mrs. Benedict, owner of the Park Lane Inn, had the right of it. This was the best pastry he’d ever tasted. He sat back, took a sip of his coffee, and watched as someone he’d met recently entered
the restaurant, accompanied by two other men, one dressed in a khaki uniform.

  That must be Adam Kendall, sheriff of Lusty. The uniform was kind of hard to mistake. Damion realized the third man was probably Peter Alvarez-Kendall.

  No surprise, the three men headed straight to his table. Joe Grant nodded then moved to sit beside him while the other two sat and faced him. When the waitress appeared within seconds, delivering three cups of coffee, Damion had to wonder if he’d been set up, straight down the line. The waitress’s gentle caress of Sheriff Kendall’s shoulder seemed to back up this theory and gave him a pretty good idea to her identity.

  Kudos to the sheriff. He apparently was a man who took care of his town.

  “Mr. Quest. Imagine my surprise at finding you right here in Lusty.” Grant eased his chair back, angling it so he could see Damion, as well as his own companions.

  “Mr. Grant. I, on the other hand, am not surprised at all to see you.” He looked across the table to take in the other men. “Not one bit.”

  Grant performed the introductions, and Damion kept his smirk off his face. He’d been exactly right as to the identities of the two men accompanying SAC Grant. “I can’t imagine why you’d make your way to our little town.”

  “Oh, nothing nefarious, I can assure you. Just doing a little favor for my boss.”

  “And your boss would be?” Adam Kendall’s question carried just the right amount of interest.

  “Well, I could tell you. But then I’d have to kill you.” Damion offered the clichéd line, taking a gamble that the men seated with him had a fine grasp of the principles of code-word clearance and the principle of need-to-know.

  Adam gave nothing of what he was thinking away, just looked at Peter. Peter shrugged, and Adam sat back.

  Adam Kendall must be quite the power if both of his companions—an FBI agent and a DEA agent—were willing to sit back and allow him to handle things.