Here was a treasure trove of evidence. A recently butchered rack of antlers from a three-by-three buck sat on a bloodied table next to a pair of night vision goggles, and Gabriel recovered a few cigarette butts and arrows that had passed through animals with blood on the fletchings. At least a dozen deer hides were hung to dry next to a cougar pelt. It wasn’t new enough to be the one they had released from the trap the other night, but a creeping feeling came over Gabriel.
“There was a shed out back,” Gabriel remembered. “I’m going to go check it.”
“I’ll come with you. This is plenty here to nail their asses to the wall.”
On the way to the shed they found venison freshly wrapped and labeled—the dickheads had even handily written dates on each package, about half of them after the deer season had ended. Gabriel became even more irate when they discovered a doe under a two-foot pile of snow up against the side of the house. They had obviously dug this hole to preserve the carcass until they got around to butchering it.
Gabriel broke the lock off the rotting shed door. He had to shine his flashlight to see anything in the windowless room. He wasn’t surprised to find more deer racks in piles, but the guitar case threw him for a loop. That psychic was right. Again. As he kneeled to open the case, a most unexpected sound made him freeze.
Tiny mewling came from the case. Tiny peeps, like songbird chicks. Gabriel lifted the cover even more gently now. His breath caught in his throat when his flashlight shined on three slit-eyed cougar kittens. They were so weak they were near death, but they had enough spunk to run in place in protest of the bright light.
“Bastards,” whispered Gabriel.
“It’s a deer graveyard out here,” Julian called from the backyard.
Chapter Eleven
Adrian and Gabriel leaned against the horse stables, enjoying the feel of the sun on their faces. Brooke was trying out a recently broken mustang, a spirited mare she thought she might choose for her own, and she was riding it in circles around the corral. The ranch manager Cody rode alongside her, giving her tips and discussing shop. She was the picture of the buckle bunny now in her jeans, cowboy boots, and plaid shirt. Her glossy dark hair bounced in squiggles over the shoulders of her sheepskin jacket.
“I’m glad Brooke made a decision about her future job,” said Gabriel, adjusting the tan Stetson he’d found somewhere. Maybe he’d had it for awhile—it didn’t look new. He usually had to wear his baseball cap with his departmental patch displayed.
“Yes, but what is she going to do for the ranch? I’m not sure if I want her actually roping and herding cattle. I’ve seen that John Wayne movie with the little kids taking the herd on a cattle drive. At least one of those poor kids got trampled to death. And it wasn’t even snowing where they were.” Adrian was worried.
Gabriel grinned. He was only thirty, but his three-day-old beard was sprinkled with gray, a look that made him more attractive, if such a thing was possible. On this rare sunny day in early February, the light reflecting off the snow was blinding in its clarity, and the men had to wear their darkest shades to watch Brooke. “I doubt she’ll herd. Cody’s got guys for that. But you’ve got to admit—she’ll be a welcome sight for sore eyes out here. Cody said he hopes she can take over bookkeeping tasks, running the office, things he doesn’t want to do when he’s out in the field.”
Adrian had to nod. “Yeah. That office is…”
“Smelly.”
“I was going to say ‘that office is something else,’ but ‘smelly’ works, too.”
That’s why they were standing outside, mainly. Cody’s office was piled to the rafters with file folders and newspapers that created a fire hazard, uneaten and mummified food, and more than one dead rat. The smell of leather and horseshit permeated the air as the room led directly into the stables, even though a sliding door closed it off from the horses and the tack room.
Leather and horseshit was not a surprising smell, but Adrian had already talked with Doug about doing something about that office if Brooke was going to be spending time there.
Gabriel said, “I think we just raised ourselves in Brooke’s eyes a thousand times by bringing those starving kittens to the rehab place. Not that you needed any raising in Brooke’s estimation. She’s been madly in love with you at first sight. Let me do some catching up, why don’t you?”
Adrian laughed. “All right. I’ll let you bring the next starving animals to the rehabber.”
The All Creatures Fund had told them the kittens were a good candidate for rehab to the wild, since not many humans had handled them during their sojourn inside the guitar case. What the white supremacists were planning to do with them was anyone’s guess. Sell them on the black market as pets most likely, although they didn’t look like they had plans to get the kittens’ strength up, keeping them in the case like that. They were just cruel lowlife bastards, and it felt good to lock them up. Not many of Adrian’s targets were ever lucky enough to get locked up, overseas. They didn’t make it that far. That wasn’t how private military contractors operated.
Gabriel said, “Those assholes will be in jail for a while because there were so many charges against them. The illegal matriarch kill was just one of a dozen. That was hilarious when I asked them if they had any deer meat in their freezer. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’”
“Yeah,” Adrian said. “Wade claimed his wife did all the cooking, and he sometimes didn’t know what she was serving because she’s such a gourmet. Oh, and the deer antlers were already there when they moved in.”
“Suspects rarely are honest. That’s the most frustrating thing. ‘I have no idea how that deer got under that pile of snow next to my house.’”
“‘Maybe he fell asleep that way,’” Adrian quoted Wade. “Right. Deer always sleep upside down next to houses with their tongues hanging out. And buckshot in their shoulders. You know, when people remember things they look to the left. When making stuff up, they look to the right.”
“Really? I’ll have to check that out,” said Gabriel. “That asshole had no conscience for the hunting community who do things correctly.”
“Just disgusting,” said Adrian. “The DNA results should seal the deal. How long do you reckon they’ll wind up keeping ole Wade locked up?”
“Hard to tell, but I’ve seen people with lesser charges stay an entire year at County. That’s in Monticello,” Gabriel explained.
Adrian’s mind was already wandering, though. Watching Brooke on the mustang, going over the jumps and whisking the riding crop against her horse’s rump, gave him a nasty idea. It had been difficult, coming up with ways to get his perversion on with his two new playmates without offering himself up as a sub. He just wasn’t prepared for that passive and unresisting sort of position yet. While he didn’t relish his partners treading lightly with him and constantly humoring him, it also wouldn’t do to go all mercenary the moment he felt powerless.
So for now, it was best that he remain dominant, and he grabbed Gabriel by the arm. “Come. There’s something in the tack room I want to show you.”
Gabriel said something in Spanish to Manuel, a ranch hand. Probably making an excuse why they were entering the tack room—but there was no excuse why Adrian was bolting the door behind them. Two windows allowed light to flood the room, displaying dozens of saddles, sheepskin coats, halters, leads, reatas, paddock boots—in short, anything that could possibly help while smelling of horses at the same time.
“Nice and quiet in here.” Adrian came up behind Gabriel and pressed his body to his. It was always strange manipulating a strapping six-foot-five man like Gabriel. He was a larger than life Roman statue—an “outdoorsy Adonis,” as Brooke had termed him. Even though Adrian was six foot one, Adrian felt dwarfed by the hulking muscle man who usually went to the weight room at the Triple Play when Adrian went to the spa. Now Adrian dry humped Gabriel’s ass while fondling his crotch, squeezing the prick to life while getting a thrill from running his fingertips over the ridged ab
domen.
“May I ask,” Gabriel said politely, “what you were doing when you fucked Brooke in the mineral pool? Seemed to be, like, some kind of…Eastern thing.”
Adrian undulated his spine so every inch of his body could touch Gabriel’s. Unbuttoning the jeans, he slid them down over the perfectly molded ass. Gabriel was so free of shame he weaved his fingers together at the back of his own neck and stretched like a great cat, uncaring that his naked cock bobbed freely in the air before Adrian gripped it in his fist. “Yes, some kind of Eastern thing,” Adrian breathed against Gabriel’s shoulder. There was what Brooke had called a “buckaroo” saddle positioned upon a standalone saddle rack, and it had given him ideas. The saddle had a very narrow, curved saddle horn, and he’d been thinking about it since first eyeballing it yesterday. “I’ve studied Buddhism off and on while overseas. Sometimes there’s not a lot to do, especially on a stakeout, as you know.”
Gabriel swept his ass against Adrian’s crotch, taking obvious delight in his power to seduce Adrian with his body. “So what is it you do? Whatever it was, it seemed to blow Brooke away.”
As much as Adrian would’ve liked to stay there palming the velvety mushroom glans and massaging the rounded ass with his stiff dick, Adrian had to shove Gabriel toward the saddle. Kneeling, he was able to yank Gabriel’s boots off while the officer walked out of them. Soon Gabriel was standing gloriously naked, his pulsating cock swaying in the frigid air. “Oh, it’s just tantric nonsense. Most people fuck way too fast, really. You just slow down and breathe, and you can connect with your partner on a deeper level.” Suddenly he didn’t want to give any of his secrets away to Gabriel, so he grabbed a plastic bottle of saddle oil. Straddling the cantle, Adrian drizzled ample oil over the saddle horn, pumping it in with his fist.
His fingers still interlaced behind his neck, Gabriel looked down at Adrian with mild curiosity. “Sort of like Sting and his wife? They were fucking for eight hours nonstop.”
Adrian had to grin. “I think Sting admitted that was bullshit, but yeah. Along the same lines.” Putting his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders, he turned him around and had him straddle the saddle horn. “Now you think I’m going to give you my fucking secrets? Sit. Sit on that horn.”
Gabriel lowered himself over the horn, rotating his hips like a pole dancer. It was an unbelievably thrilling rush to watch such a big, muscular stud screw the horn up his ass like that with no compunctions whatsoever. Gabriel didn’t seem to care that anyone could easily look in the window if they were trying to get into the tack room and found themselves locked out. His meaty haunches flexed with a rippling effect that ran down his ropey thighs. He held himself up with the power of his athletic thighs, hands still behind his neck as though he were cuffed, giving Adrian the show of his life.
What an exhibitionist. Not like I fucking mind. “Perfect,” breathed Adrian, snatching a suitable riding crop from a hook on the wall, testing it out by slapping it in his palm.
From his compromised position, Gabriel couldn’t see him, but he didn’t seem overly concerned. Gabriel seemed obsessed with screwing the horn up his ass and admiring the way his bulging penis stood out at a right angle to his abdomen. He finally lowered one palm to balance himself against the seat as he swiveled sensuously, half the entire crooked horn up his ass by now. It must be rubbing against his sweet spot. “You think I need your damned fucking secrets? You won’t let me fuck Brooke anyway. First you won’t touch her, now you won’t let me touch her anymore.”
“I’m not ready yet,” Adrian admitted. He took Gabriel by surprise by loudly smacking his beautiful bare ass with the rectangular paddle of the crop. There were some dressage whips hanging on hooks, but Adrian didn’t want to mar the flawless beauty of that ass. He would have to be satisfied with the red marks the crop left, but they wouldn’t last long. He wasn’t interested in leaving permanent marks. He smacked Gabriel harder as he found the perfect angle, enjoying the whoosh of the crop as it sliced the air. He liked the way Gabriel twitched when the whip made contact, how his cock jumped, how he squeezed his eyes shut and cried out in what Adrian knew was a mixture of pain and pleasure. He was a beautiful animal all coiled up like that, helpless, speared on the saddle horn, displaying his meaty ass for Adrian’s enjoyment. “I don’t think I could bear watching you spear her with this beautiful dick.” And he whipped the purplish, angry cock lightly with the crop.
Gabriel seemed to enjoy it. He even took his free hand and fisted it around his cock, giving access to the scrotum he seemingly wanted Adrian to whip. Adrian poured a good tablespoon full of saddle oil down the shiny cock, lovingly massaging it into the ball sac before he stood tall and whipped them again. Gabriel writhed seductively, impaled on the saddle horn and apparently loving every moment of it. In fact, his enticing dance had Adrian so riled he set to whipping Gabriel’s back with more ferocity.
Adrian was literally being whipped into a frenzy as the crop sliced through the air. He felt satisfaction when each crack of the whip left a welt that would last longer than an hour. He eased up when the leather tongue slapped the full, heavily laden ball sac, but he furiously whipped the rounded ass that called out to him so saucily. Part of him definitely liked the sight of a submissive, helpless Gabriel. And he acknowledged the part of Gabriel that liked to offer up his ass to be spanked for their mutual pleasure.
“Ah!” Gabriel cried out in what seemed to be real pain after Adrian had slapped an existing welt on his ass. “I’ll pay the ticket!”
Adrian stopped. “What? What ticket?”
“The safe word!” Gabriel cried frantically. A lock of hair fell appealingly in front of his eye. “I’ll pay the ticket for the illegal campfire if you just let me go!”
Aha. He’s played this game before with innocent campers. That riled Adrian to even hornier heights, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about how gratifying it would be to drop to his knees and take the heavy, thick penis into his hand and swallow it whole.
He gobbled down the dick hungrily, making long, firm licks with his tongue. Gabriel still swiveled his butt on the saddle horn, gripping Adrian’s shoulder like he was a bucking bronc, undulating his entire spine until he thrust his cock deeper into Adrian’s throat. Adrian had never sucked another man before, but the whipping had made him so hot he near about went out of his mind with lust.
He sucked and gobbled until he was sure he’d deep-throated the big cock. He could feel Gabriel’s manly groaning vibrating down his abdomen and into Adrian’s lips. The cock was monstrous, mammoth, fitting for such a strapping stud, but it was hard to take the entirety of it in his mouth for long without his jaw getting sore. So he detached in order to stand, to lift Gabriel off his favorite saddle horn, to prep him for getting ass-fucked.
A silhouette at the window stopped him cold. His heart thudded in his chest to think that a ranch hand, or worse, Cody, had been watching them through his tack room window.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the pink cowboy hat. Brooke had one eyebrow raised censoriously, her eyes narrowed. “Someone’s being a bad, bad boy. Without me,” she added.
Laughing nervously, Adrian unbolted the door long enough to let Brooke in, then bolted it again. Brooke flung herself onto Adrian’s chest, kissing him sloppily over and over, his mouth, nose, throat. He was vastly relieved that spying on them had that effect on her.
“Oh, holy shit,” she breathed in between kisses. “That was so unbelievably hot watching the two of you.”
“How long were you watching?” Gabriel had to twist his magnificent torso to get a view of his partners, finely displaying every molded muscle in his back.
“Oh, forever,” Brooke proclaimed, sucking on Adrian’s clavicle. “I watched you whip him with that riding crop. I watched Gabriel sink down on the saddle horn. Very impressive.”
“Thanks,” said Gabriel guilelessly.
“And now.” She took charge as she gripped Adrian’s upper arm and led him back to the helpless Gabriel.
“Down on your knees. Finish the job.”
“But—”
She shoved harder. Adrian didn’t put up much resistance and dropped to his knees to face the pulsating dick. Gabriel gripped his penis at the base and waggled it at Adrian. Adrian looked quizzically at Brooke. She commanded Adrian, “Lick him. Lick him like you love him.”
Adrian didn’t mind running his tongue over the velvety ridges of Gabriel’s chiseled abs where a line of hair arrowed down to the luxuriant bush of pubic hair.
“That’s good, Adrian. You’re being such an obedient slave. I know you don’t like to play the slave part, but you’re going to learn. You have nothing to fear from us. Right, Gabriel?”
Gabriel, with one hand on the crown of Adrian’s head, was moaning so hotly his eyeballs nearly rolled up into his skull. “What? Oh, God, no. Nothing to fear. We’re here for his pleasure.”
To enhance the sexy taskmaster image, Brooke ripped off her cowgirl shirt, the snaps popping, freeing her boobs to bounce in the enticing bra. Quickly she rid herself of the boots, which was a shame, but Adrian soon saw it was only because she wanted to remove her jeans. She put the boots back on, and with the little rectangle of satiny hair Adrian knew was hidden behind the V of almost nonexistent panty held onto her waist by elastic strips, she was the perfect picture of the dominatrix. She plucked the crop from where Adrian had dropped it and admired the men.
“My, my. Two such bad boys. You want Adrian to suck your big cock, you strapping stud?”
“God, yes,” groaned Gabriel. He still rotated his hips on the saddle horn, and he had probably been on the verge of orgasm for a while now. It wouldn’t take much, Adrian assessed, from years of being on the receiving end of such blow jobs.
“Well, that’s good,” Brooke said with approval, “because I want to watch.”
Adrian took a deep breath, his nose buried in Gabriel’s luscious bush, but Brooke gripped his shoulder with fingers made of steel.
Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 11