Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Page 17
Brooke captured the bulbous glans of Adrian’s cock between her pussy’s mushy lips. Like a pole dancer she gyrated, massaging the sensitive head in the velvet glove of her labia. But every thrust of Gabriel’s hips nudged Adrian’s prick farther into her canal. She positioned Adrian’s tool just so, then sank down onto it to the hilt, eliciting a drawn-out groan from her fiancé.
He pinned her to the countertop with the power of his hips. Brooke had felt this many times with Gabriel in the middle inside her, pumping his seed into a condom. But Adrian was barebacking it, as always, and this was entirely new, watching—and feeling with her inner pussy—him react to being fucked by another man. His stiff hard-on twitched and flinched every time Gabriel lunged his penis up his ass. In fact, Adrian seemed to be relaxing so far into the fucking that he was allowing Gabriel’s rhythm to dictate their rocking. Adrian’s penis was so plump and full to bursting all he had to do was brace his feet apart on the tiles and surrender to it.
He wasn’t so deep into subspace, however, that he forgot Brooke. When a husband is happy, his wife will be fulfilled. Adrian had quoted that Eastern thought several times, but it made sudden sense to Brooke as he moved his fingertips to her straining clitoris and began diddling it. Adrian was so adept with his fingers, perhaps well-trained from running them over crumbling, dusty artifacts, that within thirty seconds Brooke was on the verge of an orgasm. Every nerve in her body seemed to be concentrated in her pussy, filled with his expanding tool, and particularly her button, where he coaxed sensations of ecstasy.
“My true wife,” Adrian murmured against her mouth, and he shot his load inside her.
Brooke tossed her head back, choking on her own strangled cries as she felt his penis spurt up against the opening to her womb. His talented fingers teased her over the edge of orgasm, and suddenly her entire abdomen was contracting.
The walls of her pussy milked Adrian’s prick, and he gasped for air as he held his jerking cock deep inside her. Brooke felt not only the power of Adrian’s orgasm, but that of Gabriel’s as he drained himself inside his lover. He was a stunning creature to observe in any moment of the day, but imprisoned in the moment of crisis with every tiny pectoral muscle gripped in beautiful bas-relief like this, it just blew her mind.
The trio stayed locked together in bliss for many long moments. One by one, they gasped and caught their breaths. Color flooded their faces again, and semen ran down their legs as they disengaged, drifting off to one of the two main floor bathrooms.
Brooke finger-combed her hair in the bathroom’s mirror. How am I allowed to be so content? What did I do to deserve not one but two amazing, gallant, supportive, loving men? Adrian finally submitting to Gabriel’s pleasure was not only a superb physical turn-on, but it showed that emotionally he’d let his wall down as well. Intellectually he’d always known that Bird in Hand, Utah, was not Damascus, Syria. It just took months of trust-building for him to allow himself to be penetrated, to be submissive, to open himself up to new vistas of untold pleasures. That was the danger in opening up. There was always the possibility of pain as well. Brooke wanted Adrian to know the pleasures would far outweigh the dangers.
Back in the kitchen, Adrian was rooting around in the utensil drawer and Gabriel was buttoning his shirt. Brooke slid her hand into Adrian’s back jean pocket and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.” She dared to squeeze his ass a little, not knowing how sore he might be.
Adrian found the opener and slid the drawer shut with his hip. His peridot-green eyes reflected the warm rust tones of the mesa outside the window. The strains of the country and western band’s fiddle drifted through the open window, someone howling about neon rainbows and rockin’ the jukebox. “‘A husband and wife are as close as a form and shadow, flowers and fruit, or roots and leaves, in every existence of life.’”
The Irish lilt that still accented his speech gave Brooke a thrill. “And Gabriel is just as much your husband, even if you can’t marry him.” She misquoted Adrian’s Buddhist passages. “A wife with two husbands is like a bird possessing two wings. What is there that the three of you together cannot achieve?”
Adrian regarded the lumbering game warden, who was slapping a cowboy hat on his head and checking his vibrating phone. Adrian continued the quote, correctly, probably. “’There is a heaven and an earth, a sun and a moon, the sun shines and the rain falls, and the plants and trees will surely blossom and bear fruit.’”
Gabriel pointed a stiff arm eagerly at the couple as he said “mm-hmm” to whoever was on the phone. He practically ran in place with excitement, and Brooke and Adrian looked quizzically at each other.
“I have no idea,” said Adrian, answering her unasked question.
They moved closer to Gabriel as he continued with the “mm-hmms.” When he at last punched his thumb to the phone to end the call, he brandished it victoriously in the air. “Success!” he shouted.
“What? What?” clamored Brooke.
“That was Laurel at the All Creatures Fund.” That was the wildlife rehab preserve where they had placed the three cougar kittens they’d found in Wade Rivers’s guitar case. Gabriel and Julian had apprehended Dave Hall with three poaching cronies a week after the Crowd Pleaser explosion. Of course word had reached them swiftly about the explosion, so they’d fled. But this ilk being so stupid they had cobwebs in the windmills of their minds, the conservation officers had acted on a tip from someone who had taken offense that Dave was kicking a candy machine in Blanding.
The wildlife duo had captured Dave and his cohorts two hours later, where they had moved from kicking candy to stealing duct tape from a hardware store. Dave and the last surviving poachers were serving three to five at the prison in Draper, and Gabriel had been permanently assigned to the Southeastern Region. The Utah Conservation Officers Association had named him Officer of the Year for uncovering “one of the most egregious cases of organized poaching that prosecutors had seen in over twenty years, which severely impacted bear, deer, and cougar populations in Utah.”
Gabriel paused to let his partners’ excitement build. Brooke was nearly tearing his arm off in her zest to know what Laurel wanted. “They’re returning the kittens to the wild tomorrow.”
* * * *
“They’re confused. Give them time,” said the veterinarian.
The three big cats looked about themselves, their beautiful, regal heads set on erect necks. Two siblings huddled together as they glanced fearfully yet curiously up the red sandstone slope. One of them took a few tentative steps uphill.
The vet wrote down some notes. He said, “We’ve kept them wild at the Fund. You don’t want them to come up to humans, ever. These ones haven’t been imprinted, habituated to humans. Their best defense is to be scared to death of you.”
“Well, they sure are scared,” observed Brooke quietly. The youngsters hadn’t even wanted to come out of the rear of the Land Rover when they’d first pulled up here on the mountain, the area selected for release.
“It’s amazing,” breathed Doug. “I know I’m supposed to hate these critters because they kill cattle, but they’re stately. Beautiful.”
“I guess we can spare a cow now and then,” Adrian agreed. Doug and Adrian had been involved in the decision of where to release the animals. As the biggest ranch owner around, it was important they work together.
The bold cat took more steps up the mountain while his siblings looked to him for leadership. Brooke had never seen anything so stunning, so close and real. This isn’t TV. This is real life. “Look, they’re getting up.”
The two huddled cats rose to their feet, their eyes riveted to their brave brother. The bold explorer padded silently toward a piñon pine. The cats were now forty feet from their human caregivers.
“If this isn’t successful,” whispered Doug, “you’ll have to give them to a zoo?”
The vet said, “Well, there’s a huge paradigm shift occurring. The majority of people don’t want to see animals in cages. That’s why
there are more sanctuaries like All Creatures springing up. If this doesn’t work, we’ll probably take them back there.”
“Lots of the new sanctuaries are questionable,” said Gabriel. “With more sanctuaries comes a wider range of quality.”
He gasped along with everyone else when the two shy cougars came abreast of their brother. All three of them looked at each other as if confabbing about their future. They all seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. All three strode off purposefully up the sloping mountain.
“Hooray,” whispered Brooke. Gabriel was so taken by the scene he squeezed her hand, nearly cutting off circulation. Adrian, standing to her other side, kissed the crown of her head.
“Amazing,” breathed Doug.
The cats resembled a little army squad, marching silently with intent. Their long black-tipped tails looked like fifth limbs, swaying in unison.
“This is good, right?” Brooke asked.
“This is good,” confirmed the vet.
The cats were so elegant and refined. We have to remember they are also deadly if approached in the wrong manner. Brooke giggled. Like Adrian and Gabriel. She giggled some more when Gabriel said quietly, “Around 1900 they were hunted almost to extinction. Amazing how they’ve made a comeback.”
A comeback. Just like Adrian.
“What’s so funny?” Adrian asked.
Now the cats were sixty feet off, gorgeous, undulating tawny creatures against the brick-red soil. Brooke looked to the vet. He had to take off his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye.
“They’re going to make it,” he practically sobbed.
“I think so, too,” said Gabriel quietly.
Yes. They’re going to make it. Brooke’s giggling turned unexpectedly into a sob, too, and she had to wrench herself away from her men. She walked a few steps until tears blurred her vision and she nearly ran into a tree. She had to reach out and grip the scented branch to get her bearings.
Adrian came to stand behind her. Brooke could tell it was him. She could always tell, even if she couldn’t see him. He seemed to vibrate at a different level than Gabriel.
He said, “That’s sweet that you cry. I’m glad I’m in love with an emotional woman.”
Brooke had to wipe her eyes now, too. “I cry at happy things.”
“Oh, boy.” Adrian put his hands on her hips and turned her to face him. “We should have a field day at our wedding next month.”
They stared moronically at each other like smitten teenagers until Gabriel said, “Look.”
They looked up the mountain, where the three young cougars posed in silhouette. The cats were unmoving aside from their tails, twitching the black tips as though sending signals to the humans. Then they pounced down the other side of the rise and were gone.
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen’s first three novels were historical fiction involving pre-colonial African explorers. Since she was always either accused or praised (depending on how you look at it) for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step. She lives in northern California with her Newfoundland dog, the best darn dog in the west.
For all titles by Karen Mercury, please visit
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
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