Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  They both began panting in sync as their orgasms approached. Gabriel dry-humped his friend while fucking him with the rubber plug, and it turned Brooke on to greater heights to watch the two men grapple like that, Gabriel’s free hand sliding over Adrian’s steam-slicked hip, Gabriel’s abdominal muscles rippling like waves when he humped his partner.

  Adrian kept his gaze riveted to Brooke, pinning her down with the force of his stare. They humped and panted, and Brooke’s orgasm hit her all at once, unexpectedly. She clutched Adrian’s shoulders and gave an enormous heave of her hips before it all came crashing down around her. Spasm after spasm rolled up and down the length of her canal, wrenching her uterus like a giant squeezing hand. The contractions massaged Adrian’s dick more strongly than any fucking could, and she felt his entire body stiffen, his eyes rolled up in his skull, and he choked on his own cries as he came deep inside her.

  Gabriel’s fiddling with the butt plug probably enhanced Adrian’s experience, and they were both locked together in a fierce orgasm so intense Brooke feared she might break something. Dozens of waves of contractions gripped her inner pussy until at last she had to push against Adrian’s shoulders, squirming her hips to get away.

  “Stop,” she panted. “I can’t.”

  Adrian grabbed Gabriel’s forearm and made him knock it off with the butt plug. Gabriel beamed with happiness as he climbed out of the pool. Brooke smiled—she had no doubt Gabriel would get his wish soon, to be allowed to fuck Adrian.

  Brooke detached from Adrian almost sheepishly. Electric pulses still shot through her womb, her nipples. Her entire chest tingled, and she smeared her hand over the splotchy reddened skin to make it stop. Adrian didn’t seem inclined to follow Gabriel to the showers. He kept Brooke’s lifted calf pinned to his hip, and he still looked deep into her eyes. Only now, he allowed himself a small grin.

  It took Brooke about a minute to catch her breath—about a minute for the tiny bubbles to clear from her vision. “That was passionate,” she whispered.

  Adrian shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe it. “What was that?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. Some Eastern thing?”

  Now he let her foot touch the floor of the pool, but he didn’t back off. “Ah, yeah,” he admitted self-consciously. “I’ve studied Buddhism a bit. I meditate, do yoga. Tantra is a part of it. The sexual act balances energies and kundalini rises upward and awakes, yadda yadda.”

  “I’m very interested. No yadda yadda. That was intense, Adrian. I felt as though my consciousness exploded, that I was just a seed floating in the wind.”

  “Well, my seed sure exploded,” Adrian said, cornily enough. It was plain he didn’t wish to discuss Buddhism. “Our energies definitely fused. And I’ve never felt a woman come that strongly. You near about broke my prick off.”

  “You bring it out in me,” Brooke said flirtatiously, looking up at him from under her lashes.

  They regarded each other for so long that Gabriel ignorantly emerged from the shower holding his clean butt plug, placing it on the rim of the pool to dry. “We got time for the wet sauna before the spa opens up?”

  Chapter Ten

  Gabriel was lying flat on his stomach on the enormous king-size mattress draining Adrian’s beautiful prick into his mouth when his boss knocked on the cabin’s door.

  Brooke was the only one not actively engaged, so she tossed on a plaid shirt of Adrian’s and went to answer the door. Gabriel raised himself on some pillows propped against the headboard, smacking his lips with delight.

  “You just get tastier and tastier.”

  Adrian looked abashed. “Stop it with your flattery.” He rose to get dressed. It was Adrian’s cabin, so chances were the person was looking for him. It was the day after their sauna experience, and most people were stranded at the lodge, waiting for the roads to be cleared. That was all right with Gabriel and his two companions. It gave them the excuse to stay in the cabin stoking the fire and making love to each other.

  Adrian still had not come out of his shell enough to give Gabriel a blow job—or to allow Gabriel to fuck the woman—but Gabriel didn’t care much about reciprocation. All that mattered was that his partners had satisfactory orgasms. Adrian had allowed Gabriel to lick the tasty Brooke to climax and she near about strangled him with her powerful thighs. All was well.

  Gabriel understood Adrian’s sexual and emotional quirks. Gabriel himself had been burned so many times by women while out on long assignments in the field, he’d given up on having any stable long-term relationships. The seemingly capricious nature of women had made him much more open to men—short, fast, brutal hookups with men.

  Adrian was in love with Brooke, Gabriel knew. Was Adrian himself aware of it? Gabriel was fascinated to see how long it would take for Adrian to openly acknowledge his love.

  “Why? Flattery is good for the ego.” And I like to stroke your ego.

  “I don’t deserve it, Gabriel. I’m not a good person. I’ve done bad things in the name of our government. You’ve won lifesaving medals for protecting animals, for Christ’s sake. How much more noble and altruistic can you possibly get?”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes and sat up on the mattress. A box of extra-large condoms sat unopened on the nightstand. Adrian had offered them, but Brooke said it wasn’t the dangerous time of the month yet. Gabriel swiped his pants from the floor. “The Boy Scouts give me awards every now and then for getting cows out of mud holes, or releasing bighorn sheep from traps. You won a Distinguished Service Medal and Purple Heart when you were in the Marines.”

  “I’ve been out of the Marines for ten years. Private military contractors are a different breed. We’re not held as accountable for our actions. If I’m instructed to use necessary force to retrieve an antiquity, I do.”

  Gabriel finished buttoning his pants and thought. “But those are antiquities, Adrian. Irreplaceable national treasures.”

  “I know. That’s what I tell myself.” He looked at the closed bedroom door. “Sounds like Julian.”

  Gabriel was just reaching for the knob when Brooke opened the door. “Gabriel. Julian wants to talk to you. And Adrian.”

  Gabriel didn’t mind that his superior at the Wildlife Resources department saw him emerge shirtless from the bedroom with another man. He’d been suspecting that Julian himself had a similar arrangement with Adrian’s hulking spy buddy, Nathan Horowitz. Those two men lived in a similar cabin with Brooke’s sister Xandra, and Julian hadn’t appeared to be in any rush to return to his field work. He was more interested in helping Nathan and Xandra BASE jump from tall sandstone spires out in Prism Canyon. Oh, and the part where Gabriel had seen Nathan plant a solid, openmouthed kiss on the sultry half-Navajo game warden, that had tipped Gabriel off. They had obviously thought no one was looking at their private deck when Gabriel was heading to their cabin to ask for a knife-sharpening stone.

  Julian did cast the men an amused look when they entered the living room. Julian hadn’t worn his conservation officer uniform since Gabriel had been at the Triple Play, but today he was talking business. “Weren’t you listening to the radio?”

  Gabriel tugged down the hem of the shirt he’d just donned. “It’s in my truck.”

  “You got to get your head into the game. Your warrant for 1250 Petroglyph Drive came through.”

  “Well, I can’t get out there until they plow the roads. And I doubt that poaching fool is going anywhere, either. You want to come with me on the bust?”

  Gabriel had predicted the reluctant look that overcame Julian’s face. Julian even took a step back toward the door. “Ah, no thanks. I’m still riding high on the Hawaii trip. Not eager to get back in—Say, why don’t you go with Gabriel, Adrian? You’re licensed for concealed carry. You can’t arrest anyone, but you could assist with containment and sweeping. Everything other than citing him.”

  “Yeah!” said Adrian, chipper. “I was planning to ride along anyway. It’s a real shame you guys have
no backup out here. Is it true you only have one officer for fifteen hundred square miles?”

  “It’s true,” agreed Julian, taking a miniature carrot out of a bowl and chomping on it. The closest grocery was a forty-five-minute drive to Bird in Hand, and that store was mostly only good for sodas, hamburger meat—probably from Triple Play cattle—vanilla ice cream, and chips. One had to drive an hour to Blanding for chocolate ice cream, cheese that wasn’t individually wrapped in slices, or a real vegetable not in the shape of a TV dinner. In Moab, where Julian had a trailer Gabriel had been using lately, there was a much wider array of choices. Gabriel had a feeling that once their Bait and Switch chalet was built down the canyon rim, Julian wouldn’t be returning to the Moab trailer at all. “I’m surprised they let you have a partner in the Southern Region. This is probably the worst-funded department in the state. Oh, and Janellen”—their dispatcher—“gave me word that also living at that Petroglyph Drive address is one Wade Rivers, asshole extraordinaire. I was trying to get that skinhead for poaching for months, a year maybe. Never could pin him to anything. But he’s on parole for selling meth and—you know, why don’t I just come along? I’d like to handcuff that bastard myself.”

  Gabriel shook Julian’s hand. “Good plan.”

  Oddly, it was Brooke who interrupted the moment of camaraderie. Frowning, she stepped up to the two rangers. “By any chance, does this Wade Rivers have a tattoo of an ‘88’ on the side of his face?”

  Julian frowned, too. “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “And a red lightning bolt on his neck?”

  “Yes,” agreed Julian. “And the usual swastika on the forehead, along with a one-inch-tall tat going across his forehead that lets us know he’s ‘The Property of—’”

  “Brittany,” Adrian broke in with wonder. He looked at Brooke, then at Gabriel.

  They must have all been thinking the same thing.

  “It’s the same guy,” intoned Adrian.

  “Thor Biswell is Wade Rivers,” added Gabriel.

  “Not only that,” Brooke pointed out, “but that animal psychic was right. We don’t need to wade through any river. Not to get to Wade Rivers’s house.”

  * * * *

  The realization that the animal psychic was right about Wade Rivers led Gabriel to give more credence to her instructions about the guitar case in the shed. Thor—or, rather, Wade—had received a gun permit under his new assumed identity. Since convicted felons weren’t allowed to own guns, that right there was reason enough to arrest him, and they had every probable cause to do a sweep of the Petroglyph Drive house.

  “You know, it’s pathetic,” said Julian as their truck rounded another mesa neared the meth house, “but these run down houses out here in this superb wonderland really get me down. They’re living in the most amazing Garden of Eden known to man, and they have to pile up rotting couches on the side of their house.”

  Gabriel couldn’t agree more. If he was ever fortunate enough to own his own house, he certainly wouldn’t load up the backyard with empty bottles or furniture that was supposed to be on the inside of the house, like so many lowlifes did. He had seen Julian’s plans for his Bait and Switch chalet, and he was eaten up with envy. Julian had come from humble beginnings on the Navajo res, which was nearly as bad as the hardscrabble Texas neighborhood where Gabriel had grown up. People had definitely been barbecuing in their garages in Gabriel’s childhood neighborhood.

  And if Julian could rise out of the squalor, Gabriel believed he could, too. Just not on a conservation officer’s salary.

  Gabriel said, “I picked up a cigarette butt, some rounds, and a couple of fawn fetuses at one scene.” He was talking to Adrian, since Julian would already know this stuff. “So if you see any of those, bag them, too.”

  “Bag the fetuses?” goofed Adrian, but they had rounded the last mesa before the house.

  As Julian had predicted, the one-story ranch house was in a state of gross disrepair. A couple of rusted stoves were shoved up against the front of the house, as though someone would come along and plug one in to cook someday soon. What appeared to be sheets were tacked in front of the windows to prevent seeing in. A dilapidated swing set with two out of three swing chains broken was not a good sign. Rags or pieces of discarded clothing were strewn everywhere in areas where snow had melted or under trees.

  “Why do we get so many of these low-budget motherfuckers around here?” Gabriel asked rhetorically.

  Julian said, “They think they can hide in the desert. They think no one can see them because there are fewer people.”

  “I think they stand out more,” Adrian breathed as Gabriel turned off the ignition. “There’s his truck. I’ll search that while you guys cuff him.”

  “Let’s look around the back of the house first,” Julian suggested. “I don’t want to be surprised. I’d rather surprise them.” Aside from Wade’s truck, there were two other vehicles, a truck and one four-door sedan, parked randomly in front of the house.

  Adrian went off to Wade’s truck while Gabriel and Julian, clad in their best camo cargo pants, snuck off around the side of the house, state-issued Glocks at the ready. Gabriel allowed Julian to run point as senior officer and as the guy who had been gunning for this douche bag for awhile now.

  When Julian waved his palm in the “come on” gesture to Gabriel, the men burst out around the corner of the house. A gaunt, pizza-faced meth head looked up from a chest freezer, his face the perfect picture of stunned surprise. “State Wildlife Resources!” Gabriel yelled. Both officers pointed their weapons at the loser as he froze in shock.

  But when Julian advanced, yelling, “Keep your hands where I can see them!” the meth head bolted down the sandstone slope, darting in between some cottonwoods. With not a split second hesitation, Julian practically dove after the poacher, but Gabriel heard shouts coming from the front yard.

  He spun around just in time to see Wade blazing around the same corner of the house Gabriel had just turned. He was a veritable streak being pursued by the flame-haired marine. Gabriel admired Adrian’s vigorous strength as he seemed to cover two of Wade’s steps in only one of his long-legged strides. It didn’t take much effort for Gabriel to holster his weapon and sidestep from his position, colliding directly with the fleeing poacher.

  Gabriel caught the guy with his arms wrapped around Wade’s thighs, and Wade kept running, even when he was hopelessly pinned to the ground. Gabriel was stuck. He couldn’t let go of even one arm to cuff the idiot, and the more the Aryan brother insisted on running horizontally, the lower his disgusting pants rode.

  Adrian compressed the little remaining air from Wade’s lungs when he fell with a knee in the small of Wade’s back. Adrian easily cuffed him now.

  “Search warrant,” grumbled Gabriel. With relief, he stood to see Julian escorting the other white supremacist back up the hill, cuffed. Now they could add resisting arrest to the charges.

  The new prisoner said with disgust, “Dig, Wade. I get the Injun wannabe cop.”

  Adrian yanked Wade to his feet with more than necessary force. “He is a cop, you dickwad. State police. He has all the rights and authorities of a beat cop, so I’d step carefully if I was you.”

  “Bit too dark for me. Right, Dave?” said Wade, who also seemed more zitted out than he’d appeared a few days ago. One of the hallmarks of the meth head. Wade looked Adrian up and down. “You’re the officer who accused me of poaching. You’re awful white. Does your carpet match your draperies?”

  Adrian was the one charged with watching these two greaseballs while the officers searched the house, so he kneed Wade in the nuts. Adrian had to practically drag Wade to his truck while reminding his friends, “Sportsmen for Fish and Wildlife have a ten grand reward for whoever catches these assholes.”

  “And a limited edition rifle,” Julian added.

  “Limited edition?” gasped Dave. “Which make?”

  “I can see you’re a real gun collector,” Gabriel remarked
.

  Wade was still doubled over as they shoved the prisoners into the Wildlife Resource truck’s back seat. Perhaps Adrian had some top secret mercenary way of ball-kneeing insurgents that was particularly effective. They left Adrian there to read the men their rights and search the truck. Before they were even in the front door of the house, Adrian had found a meth pipe in Wade’s jacket.

  “I’ve never seen that before in my life!” cried Wade. “It must’ve been in the pocket when I put the jacket on this morning!”

  Gabriel and Julian chuckled almost fondly as they entered the foyer. “You know,” Julian reminisced, “I’d feel sort of lonely and melancholic if I ever frisked a guy and he instantly took responsibility for a meth pipe.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel agreed passionately. “I’d really long for the old days if I ever met a perp who immediately said, ‘yes, officer, that’s my illegally poached deer that is missing its eight-point rack.”

  Julian had already found an illegal twelve-gauge shotgun with a homemade silencer. It was propped next to a chair positioned to face a double door where the screen had been removed. Gabriel peeked out that door and saw a bait pile in the snow—a mound of broccoli and cornflakes to attract starving deer. It was evident the perps sat in that chair smoking their drugs and waiting for deer to come by so they could blast them.

  “Got to admit it feels even better getting these white power guys,” said Gabriel, picking up a .22 and noting it’d been fired recently by the smell of powder. He added a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson to the pile of illegal firearms, and they went downstairs.