Frank was not gentle with her. She hadn’t wanted him to be, but she hadn’t expected him to be quite this vigorous, either. His big, muscular body churned above her, driving her into the mattress as his cock plunged deeply again and again. The sound of his torso slapping against hers echoed off the walls of the small home. Each time Frank drove downward, spearing full-length into Colleen, she uttered a gasp, the sound squeaking out of her nostrils because her mouth was filled to overflowing with Marc’s cock.
She heard Frank’s leonine growl when he reached ultimate satisfaction. He was still spewing when Marc withdrew from her mouth, angled his cock toward her breasts, and released his desire in a gushing torrent.
When he was finished, Frank slumped to his side on the mattress, his great chest heaving as he gulped in air, his body glistening with perspiration. Colleen put a hand on his face, caressing him lightly, a smile curled her lips.
“That...was...magnificent,” she whispered, her head rising and falling on Marc’s abdomen, moving with his deep, post-orgasmic breathing. She touched her stomach and felt cum, warm and slippery, between her fingertips and thumb. “And messy.” A low, throaty laugh slipped from her throat.
She felt the golden afterglow of orgasmic excess to a greater extent than ever before in her life. “The sun’s still up. I’ll never look at myself in the same way again. Not after this.” She laughed again, touching a line of cum that followed the curvature of her left breast. “There’s not enough soap and water in the world to get me clean again.” She laughed softly. “I have been naughty, naughty, naughty!”
“Let us wash you,” Frank said, lifting his head, a sleepy smile on his lips.
“And we’ll show you just how wrong you are,” Marc added, already easing his body out from beneath her head.
“You’re going to bathe me?” Colleen asked in an incredulous rush of words. Frank and Marc nodded simultaneously. She sighed, her eyes rolled, and she whispered, “Oh, I could so get used to being treated like this.” The men went to retrieve the pitcher and basin. Greedily, in a very soft voice, Colleen asked, “Do you think you could make me come again…with your tongue?”
Chapter Sixteen
“This is the time to strike, and you’re going to do everything I tell you,” Zachery said with significantly more confidence than authority. “We know that Frank is damned near dead, and we know that Marc has practically had an around-the-clock bedside vigil for his friend. That means Marc’s going to be exhausted, and that works in our favor. We don’t even need to worry about Frank. He’s a head on a pillow and nothing more. He’s useless. He’s no threat to us whatsoever, but only so long as we attack now while he’s still a weak and helpless man.”
Watching Ralph take another big swallow of his whiskey gave Zachery a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His friend was losing his ability to see the big picture. Since the quadruple homicide of Daggard and his friends after the ill-fated attempt to get Zachery’s poker money back, Ralph had been drinking more and more. He’d also started his drinking earlier. And most damning of all, he had stopped spending time in the numerous Golden Valley whorehouses.
Zachery didn’t mind a man sinking into a bottle for a couple days to give himself some time away from his worries. Lord knows, Zachery had done that himself more times than he could count. But when there were important decisions to be made, critical action to be taken, then the bottle had to be put away.
Ralph hadn’t done that. Zachery had, but Ralph hadn’t, and that’s why Zachery was beginning to wonder whether or not he should arrange for an accident to befall his friend.
This was not a thought that set lightly on Zachery. He had killed before. Several times, in fact. But he’d always killed either at the spur of the moment, when the emotions were running hot, or he’d killed lowlifes and drifters, men who wouldn’t be missed by anyone. Either way, what he had never done was kill someone he’d known for a long time, someone he had a certain genuine affection for.
But if Ralph was going soft, then he had to have an “accident.” It would be more difficult to stand behind him and deliver the unexpected bullet to the back of the head, but Zachery was quite willing to do the dirty deed if it was warranted.
And as for Frank and Marc, though he’d known them both for years, he could pull the trigger on either one of them and not lose so much as a second’s sleep. In fact, after putting several bullets into the two men who had been such a source of frustration in his life, Zachery was quite certain he’d sleep a deep, dreamless sleep.
If the sleep wasn’t dreamless, as least it would be without nightmares, and lately, that was a tradeoff that Zachery was most willing to make.
His world seemed to be getting smaller and smaller with each passing day. He kept taking care of the problems that surfaced, like Daggard and his buffoonish friends who had needed instant killing, but that somehow never seemed to put him much distance away from the wolves in the night that kept baying, howling for his blood.
“But what about the O’Malley bitch?” Ralph asked after a several seconds of thought. He looked into his glass of whiskey as though it were a crystal ball that might somehow give him the answers to all the questions that plagued him. “What if she’s in there? I’ve never shot a woman before.”
A flash of understanding went through Zachery, and he was suddenly certain that he could keep Ralph under his thumb and in control, at least until the next murders had to be committed.
“Murder?” Zachery put a hand over his heart. “Why would we murder a beautiful, big-titted piece of ass like Colleen O’Malley?”
Ralph’s head snapped up. His interest had taken on new dimensions.
“Colleen O’Malley’s been taking care of Frank since we shot him,” Zachery said quietly. “For that, the bitch has definitely got to pay a price. What I’m suggesting is that we go in there, torch the place down, and shoot the men as they run out. But with Colleen, what we’ll do is take her hostage. Think about how much fun you could have with her for a week or two, her not having any choice but to do everything you told her to. Think of that, Ralph. And when she isn’t fun anymore, I’ll take care of her.”
“Permanently?” Ralph’s voice was very low, and there was a distinct brightness in his eyes that hadn’t been there moments earlier.
“Hell yes. After you’ve had her for a week, what would be left of her?” Zachery asked, playing up to his friend’s inflated self-esteem. “She wouldn’t be worth fucking once you’d had her for a solid week. I’d just take care that she wasn’t found.”
Confident now that he had his friend back on track, Zachery picked up the whiskey bottle and refilled Ralph’s glass. “Enjoy this one because it’s going to be your last one. Tonight, we burn the O’Malley place to the ground and give Marc and Frank the killing they so richly deserve. You can have a good ol’ time fucking Colleen O’Malley any way you want to, and when you’ve had your fill of her, I’ll dispose of what’s left.”
Ralph smiled. “I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that one whole hell of a lot.”
Zachery looked into his friend’s eyes and realized he was going to feel genuine sorrow when he killed him. Remorse wouldn’t stop Zachery from killing Ralph. But he would feel sadness about the execution afterward.
* * * *
“My dear, you must be a talented nurse because this young man’s eyes are as clear and bright as any I’ve seen,” Doc Hamms said, leaning over Frank. He was peering closely into his patient’s eyes. “He’s not showing any signs of trauma, even though he was hit with a grazing wound to the head.”
The doctor shook his head slowly in amazement. “This man’s fit to travel. I see no reason to conclude otherwise.” He sat up and slapped his thighs, a smile breaking out on his jowly face. “You’ve done a remarkable job, Miss O’Malley,” he said. “Frank’s as fit as a fiddle, as near as I can see. His eyes are clear, and all his coordination has returned. When I first saw him I was worried about his head wound, but now I�
��m more concerned with that hand and wrist of his. It’s pretty clear he got stepped on by one of the horses, but there doesn’t seem to be any broken bones.”
The doctor inhaled deeply, then sighed with contentment. Frank Bishop was a lifelong resident of Golden Valley, and it had bothered him that he couldn’t do his doctoring in his own small clinic where he could control surroundings, the time between visitations of the nurse, and feeding time. The doctor knew Frank’s father and felt an almost familial obligation to care for Frank. But Colleen had apparently done a spectacular job seeing to Frank’s needs, and for that, Doc Hamms was privately and professionally grateful.
“As near as I can tell, there’s no reason he can’t go home right now.” Doc Hamms nodded to both Frank and Marc, then leaned to the side and gave Colleen an avuncular kiss on the cheek. “Any time you decide to give up the egg and chicken business, let me know. A man like me could use a nurse like you.” He smiled warmly. “Some training and you could take over as town doctor for Golden Valley.”
Colleen blushed and looked away.
“I’m quite serious, my dear,” the doctor continued. “Those stitches you put into Marc’s scalp were absolutely first-rate. The knots weren’t up to standard, but that’s a simple thing to teach. It’s just a matter of awareness, not of ability.”
* * * *
Colleen stood at the window, watching as Doc Hamms’s one-horse carriage circled away from her home and headed back down the gravel road to Golden Valley. With her face still turned toward the window, she closed her eyes and issued a small, silent thanks to God. Frank was better now. He could travel, and that meant he would soon be back to normal.
Colleen had worried that the wound would have lingering effects not at first easily foreseen. She had also worried that her activities with him would set back his recovery. If her attentions toward him had caused any complications, they weren’t evident in his desire for her attention.
They’ll be leaving soon, thought Colleen as she bit back an emotion she didn’t want to name.
I knew they’d leave eventually. I just didn’t think it would be tonight.
“It’s a good thing you got shot in the head,” she heard Marc say. “If you’d have gotten shot anywhere else, it might have killed you.” He laughed, and it was clear he felt nothing but heartfelt relief at Frank’s swift recovery. “I’ve always known you’ve got the thickest skull in all of Montana.”
Forcing a smile to her lips, Colleen moved away from the window, turning toward her men.
The men who were about to leave her.
“You’ve got to admit,” she said in a more lighthearted tone than she felt, “I not only make the best cheese and have the best-tasting eggs around, I’m also a first-rate nurse.”
“I agree on all counts,” Frank said.
Marc gave Colleen a quick, mock salute and replied, “I concur wholeheartedly.” Then, more softly, he said, “We’ll never be able to truly repay you for what you’ve done.”
Colleen didn’t want this to be a sentimental parting. They were rich men, and they’d be forgetting her soon enough. She’d be left with her memories, and she’d tell herself that those memories were good enough, even if she didn’t believe it.
“It wasn’t me that did all the hard work, it was my rifle. You men are lucky my father was a good teacher.”
“Oh, we’re lucky all right,” Frank replied. “And we know it.” Still in bed and beneath the blankets, he extended a hand and curled his forefinger beckoningly. “Come over here. Let us show you just how grateful we are for everything you’ve done.”
She shook her head slowly and replied, “If I do that, then you’ll take my clothes off and make love to me.”
“And what would be wrong with that?” Marc’s expression of exaggerated confusion drew a smile from Colleen. “Is there another form of payment you’d like?” The instant the words were out of his mouth, Marc’s expression showed that he realized his joke could be misinterpreted. “I didn’t mean it that way. Truly and honestly I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t.” Her lips pressed momentarily into a thin line as unbidden thoughts entered her head. “You’ve always treated me with respect.” She narrowed her eyes in mock fury. “Even when you tied me up and made me beg you to…”
When her words died away, Marc’s eyebrows lifted. “Begged you to what?”
“To…oh, you know what!” Colleen stamped her foot. “Do the two of you always have to get your way?”
Simultaneously, they nodded.
Colleen turned her back to the men.
Everything comes so easily for them. Women. Cards. Money. They always get whatever they want. They have no idea what it’s like to do without. It would do them a world of good for me to just deny them. It would improve their character.
She turned slowly to face the two men, quite determined to ignore their simultaneous seduction. But when she faced them, Frank had slipped the covers aside enough to expose his body from the knees up. Though he was in relaxed repose, the muscles in his thighs, stomach, chest, and shoulders were starkly evident beneath the pale surface of his skin. And though his cock was not fully erect, she could watch it slowly, relentlessly growing between his muscular thighs. When she turned her gaze toward Marc, she found him unbuttoning his shirt. He looked at her with a gleam in his eyes that wouldn’t have been out of place for an alpha lion on the plains of Africa as he looked upon a receptive lioness.
Whatever thoughts Colleen had harbored of resisting the combined charms of Marc and Frank simply vanished in the next instant. At the juncture of her thighs, her labia swelled and moistened. Her heart rate accelerated. Her mouth opened fractionally, and her breath caught in her throat.
“I have no chance against you two, do I?” Her voice was soft, plaintive, her words as much a statement of fact as a question. “You’ll always be able to charm me until I give in to you, won’t you?”
She watched as Frank’s uninjured left hand curled around the shaft of his burgeoning cock. “That’s not a bad thing,” he said in explanation. “Come over here. Let us make you feel alive.”
A small sob caught in her throat. Alive? Oh, yes. When she was in their arms, individually and collectively, she felt alive. In fact, she felt more alive than ever before in her life. More vividly and intensely feminine.
Colleen’s hands went to the top button of her shirt. Before she began, a sound, indistinct at first but swiftly and alarmingly drawing nearer, caught her attention. She turned away from her men and stepped over to the window again.
“Oh, no,” she whispered softly, seeing her best friend rushing through the field to the east. “It’s Amanda Holloway.” She knew how difficult her friend’s life was and who made her life so difficult. “Something bad has happened.” She turned away from the window toward the men. “I’m sorry. Amanda’s in trouble and needs help, and I can’t turn her away.”
“We wouldn’t love you so much,” Frank said, grabbing the blankets and covering himself again, “if you were the type of woman who could.”
Every time those men speak, I love them just a little bit more, thought Colleen as she opened the door and stepped outside.
* * * *
For the most part, Amanda had stopped crying, though a sob occasionally caught in her throat. Every masculine instinct in Marc screamed that if he was any man at all, he would find Amanda’s father, call him out, goad him into a gunfight, and shoot him down like the scurvy dog he was.
But he couldn’t do that, of course. When he had explained what he’d like to do to the brutish lout, Amanda had let out a shriek, and Colleen had grabbed his forearm as though to physically keep him from leaving her house.
“At least he didn’t hit me in the face,” Amanda said softly, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, her face ashen as she wrung her hands in her lap. “That’s something, right?”
“That’s nothing,” Marc replied, the words forced out through gritted teeth. “He didn’t want to put any b
ruises where your future husband might see them.” His smile was bitter, humorless. “Mustn’t damage the merchandise, after all. Might lower the selling price.”
“And that’s what I am—merchandise.”
“No, you’re not!” Colleen said quickly, standing beside her seated friend. She put her arm around Amanda’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “Don’t ever think that.”
“But Papa made it clear. He’s going to get ten thousand dollars from Mr. Schaefer, and in return, he gets a virgin bride.”
The young woman’s words came out softly, with only a hint of defiance in them. Marc could tell she was losing the inner strength that had kept her free from her father’s machinations so far.
“You say he’s headed to town?” Frank asked.
Amanda nodded. “Mr. Schaefer gave him a hundred dollars. He called it a good faith payment. Then Mr. Schaefer left and Papa told me what they’d agreed upon. I said I wouldn’t go through with the marriage, and that’s when he beat me up. Then he headed off to town. He always goes into Golden Valley whenever he’s got money in his pockets. He likes the whiskey, and he likes the women.”
A tightness formed in Marc’s chest as he looked at the nineteen-year-old blonde girl. Earlier, he’d seen for himself the bruises on her ribs and thighs where her father’s fists had struck. He could imagine what the fight had been like with Amanda at first putting up determined resistance, but then faltering when the much larger and stronger man continued to pummel her with his fists, striking her in the biceps, stomach, ribs, and thighs. He suspected the blows had always been delivered where clothes would hide the damage he’d inflicted.
Maxwell, Brandi - Colleen's Desire [The Lost Collection] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting) Page 15