by Vanessa Vale
Oh. My. God. No one had talked to me like that before.
I didn’t answer because Lucas reached around and slid the fingers of his free hand over my pussy, felt how I was stretched wide around the base of his dick, then moved higher to my clit. The touch was wet as I’d coated him in my juices, and light. So very light.
I jerked, but with a dick in my pussy and a thumb in my ass, I couldn’t move far.
He did it again and it was enough. I came, definitely harder than I ever had in my life. Heat burst through my body, my skin was instantly coated with sweat. I couldn’t catch my breath, and not because Cy’s dick was resting just shy of my throat. It was bliss and I clenched down on… everything.
I saw colors behind my eyelids. I heard the guys swearing, felt them fucking me harder, heard their growls and shouts they elicited when they came. Felt the heat of Lucas’s cum filling my pussy. Cy came too, his dick thickening right before he did so, thick pulses of his cum slid down my throat. I swallowed again and again to take it all.
He let go of my braid and cupped my chin, pulled back so only the head was still in my mouth. Cum was still spurting from the tip, coating my tongue. He watched as it did so. God, it was dirty.
Only when he was finished did he pull out.
“Don’t swallow yet.” His thumb stroked my cheek. “Show Lucas what a good girl you are, taking my cum like that.”
I was still sitting in Lucas’ lap with him nice and deep, pussy and ass. I turned and looked over my shoulder, mouth open so he could see Cy’s cum pooled on my tongue.
I felt Lucas’ dick pulse inside me as he looked.
“Shit, I can go again right now.” He lifted his chin. “Swallow, doll.”
I did, then licked my lips to ensure I got it all. I wanted to please Cy. I wanted to be his good girl.
“I’m still hard, and that was the best BJ of my life,” Cy said.
I looked back at him, saw his dick was a ruddy red, still hard as could be and shiny from my mouth.
They weren’t done. Well, neither was I. I had what I’d come for, and I didn’t want it to end.
“More,” I said, licking my lips once again, Cy’s taste in my mouth. The scent of fucking filled the air.
In one swift move, Lucas picked me up, turned me so I was lying the long way on the couch, my head by the arm rest. He put one of my legs up on the back of the couch so my ankle was resting at the top, then took my other so my foot was on the floor. I was wide open.
“Look at that pussy,” Cy commented. “All swollen and open. Your cum’s slipping out, Lucas. Time to add mine to that honey pot.”
Lucas stood, moved out of the way, didn’t even try to put his pants back to rights.
Cy settled on his knees between my parted legs. Looked me in the eye as he stripped off his shirt.
His chest was broad, his abs like a washboard. There was a smattering of dark hair on his chest that narrowed toward his belly button, then into a line that went directly to the base of his hard dick.
He was gorgeous, so manly, and with his cock thrusting out from his open jeans, virile. I still tasted that virility on my tongue, remembered what it felt like and my pussy clenched in anticipation.
“Ready for more?” His fingers gently slid over my sensitive folds, then slipped them inside. Slowly, he fucked me with them, his thumb rubbing over my clit. “Fuck, you’re full of cum.”
I was still sensitive, still aroused and I rolled my hips on his fingers. He knew it and just how to get me off.
Again.
“You get two men, you get two dicks. You’ll come again and then you’ll take me.”
I looked down at him, knowing how big he really was.
He grinned, sure of himself. Bracing a hand on the arm of the couch, he hovered over me, then kissed me. It was so sweet and gentle, just a soft brush of his lips over mine, a complete contradiction to his words and the way he worked my pussy. He lifted his head, and I looked at him. Really looked. He might be the gruff, angry man who’d stood up to me on the porch, but he was also… sweet.
“I’ll get all of it in there, don’t you worry. You’re going to love it.”
I came with those words. He was a filthy talker. Dirty. Bossy. I loved every bit of it.
Cy was a man of his word. He made me come, then gave me his dick. Every single inch of it.
5
HAILEY
* * *
Football was on the TV and we were on the couch. The couch I would always think of as the fucking couch. God, what we’d done on it before they’d carried me to Cy’s bed…
Now, I was tucked into Cy’s chest, my head resting on his shoulder with my feet across Lucas’ lap. I was in Cy’s blue flannel shirt and nothing else. I wasn’t cold, far from it. Besides the fire Cy had started in the stone fireplace, I had two men to keep me warm.
I loved this, being with them. Between them. A safe little bubble. But it was only temporary, or I had to think it was. I couldn’t let my heart in on this, no matter how quick I hit it off with Cy. How much I’d fantasized about a relationship like this.
A commitment caused heartache. I knew that from the accident. One minute I was fine, flying down the slope and living my dream, the next I was sprawled and broken on the frozen ground. I’d been committed to my career since I was four. Sure, I hadn’t thought of skiing as a career when I hadn’t even started Kindergarten, but I’d seen my mom race, wanted to be like her. I loved the thrill that came from racing, from winning. From being the fastest. From defeating an entire mountain and making it my bitch. And now, it was over, or it felt that way.
Yet Lucas had snuck in past my defenses. It had been instantaneous, meeting him in Big Sky at a mud run charity event. We’d been assigned to the same team, spending two miles running and crawling, getting filthy together. I loved to win, but I had been happy coming in second if it meant spending more time with the hot war hero. Turned out, we’d spent a lot more time together after, ensuring our bodies were very clean, then getting dirty in other fun ways.
We weren’t inseparable at first, with Lucas heading off on a backcountry trip and I’d headed to Canada for a promo event for one of my sponsors I couldn’t get out of. I hadn’t been able to go to his sister’s funeral because of it—which had made for a shouting match with Mark who hadn’t cared my boyfriend’s sister had been murdered—but had come to Cutthroat directly after. And stayed. I’d wanted to be here for Lucas, but I was smart enough to remember it probably wouldn’t last.
Lucas made me feel safe. Protected. I wasn’t Hailey Taylor, the champion ski racer. I was just Hailey. Just… doll. It had been hard in the past to figure out who a guy was interested in. I was a photo op, a famous ski racer to fuck and forget. A notch on their belt, bagging the ski champion. No one was interested in me personally, only what I could do for them.
But Lucas, he’d had no idea who I was. It had been instant chemistry, instant connection. I was happy with him, and that scared the shit out of me. What he made me feel, I craved, practically desperate for it, like a flower in the desert blooming after a rain. While he hadn’t outright said it, I had a feeling he’d be thrilled if I stopped racing, stopped risking my neck. But he didn’t give his opinion, hadn’t told me what I should do, didn’t tell me how I should feel, or act or force me into my role as professional skier.
He was content being with me. Me, Hailey Taylor. Talking. Hiking, kissing, sleeping, fucking. Just… being. I liked it. No, I loved it and didn’t want it to stop.
I felt things I shouldn’t. Love would only make me fall again. I’d survived the knee injury, but a broken heart? And now I had double the problems.
I wanted it with Cy, too. Wanted his dominance, his controlling nature. Somehow, it soothed something in me. I wanted to submit to it, to that power. I snuggled into Cy’s hold, content.
Happy. Petrified.
“Interference,” Lucas said to the TV, telling the referee what to call on the latest play.
Cy stroked a hand over my h
air. The simple gesture was comforting. If he were only interested in a one-time tumble, we wouldn’t be sitting like this. He wouldn’t be holding me, his hands touching me as if he couldn’t stop himself. It wasn’t sexual, but I was definitely aroused. Just looking down and seeing his big hand caressing my arm—even through the soft material of his shirt—was sexy. And like with Lucas, I felt… special.
“That’s a big scar,” Cy commented.
I glanced down at my left knee to the straight pink line that ran down the center.
“I tore my ACL in a race last winter.”
“Lucas mentioned you’re a pro skier.”
Lucas huffed out a laugh, squeezed my foot. “You’ve never heard of her?”
“Other than what you’ve told me?” Cy asked. “Nope.”
The way I was sitting, I couldn’t see Cy’s face, but I couldn’t miss the surprise on Lucas’. He grabbed his cell, swiped the screen a few times. “Here.” He handed it to Cy.
The game went to commercial and Lucas reached for his beer on the coffee table. I followed Cy’s online research of me, his finger swiping from article to article, playing a few videos. The last one—I’d seen a million times—was of my accident at the championship in Norway and thankfully the sound was off. I had the commentator’s words of my accident memorized. Not only could I see the wipeout in my head from when it happened, but also from every angle captured by the TV cameras.
“How fast were you going?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.
“Seventy-two just before the turn.”
I felt his chest rumble, and he tossed the cell to Lucas when the video got to the part where they lifted me, unconscious, onto a stretcher.
Before I realized what he was doing, he tugged me up so I was sitting on his lap and he was tipping my chin up to look at him. Then his eyes flared wide in panic. “Sorry, does this hurt your knee?”
He was about to lift me off him, but I stopped him by placing my hand on his chest. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt now, nor much in general, I just can’t get full range of motion in the knee yet. It’s almost there with continued PT.”
In his dark gaze, gone was the anger from earlier. The heat was gone, too.
He settled, sighed. “Fuck, woman. You’re insane. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
“It wasn’t my first fall,” I replied. I’d been wiping out since I was four. It was the worst though and he was right, I could have died. The knee was the worst of the damage I’d received. A broken rib, tons of bruising. Mild concussion.
“That makes it even worse,” he grumbled. “How do your parents handle it?”
I looked at him, saw the soft smile, felt the way his hand caressed my repaired knee.
I shrugged. “My mom skied in the Olympics. She knows what it’s like, although we go faster these days. Fall harder. My dad’s pretty chill since he’s got two women in his life who are risk takers.”
“I think he and I are going to get along pretty well,” Cy commented.
I thought of him with my dad, fishing, something quiet and calm made me smile. Yeah, they’d definitely get along.
Lucas shifted, slid a hand down my back, cupped my butt. “He wants to meet the parents. That’s a good sign.”
It was. It seemed to be as instantaneous with Cy as it had been with Lucas. Lucas had been right about the three of us. I could feel it, and that was scary. This was all fun. Nothing more. They’d never meet my parents. This… thing wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be.
My cell went off again. “Shit,” I whispered, sighing. The little bubble burst.
“What?”
I pursed my lips. “It’s my coach, Mark. He has his own ring tone.” A snippet of We Are The Champions by Queen.
Lucas leaned forward to grab it for me off the coffee table.
I held up my hand to stop him. “Don’t. I know what he wants.”
Cy turned my face back to his with a finger beneath my chin.
“You don’t seem happy to talk to him. Did he do something? Do we need to beat him up for you? Kill him? I have a lot of land to hide a body.”
I smiled, but felt a thrill of pleasure at his words. That he would do something like that, even joking, made me feel good. “He’s just itching for me to get to pre-season training. Winter’s coming and he wants me ready for the first competition.”
“You don’t want to go?”
I gave a slight shrug, looked down at his shirt, the way it was closed by only a single button. I circled my finger over the dark hair on his chest that peeked out. “I’m happy here. Not thinking about it.”
I glanced up at Cy, who was watching me closely. Everything I said was true. This ranch was an escape. I didn’t have to make decisions, just fuck.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “You want to hide out here?”
I smiled then. “Like you?”
Lucas laughed. “She’s got you all figured out, you fucker.”
Cy grinned, but cupped my ass and gave it a little squeeze, reminding me of how he’d spanked me earlier for my sass. “You have no work, no responsibilities right now?”
I shook my head, bit my lip. I should be training hard. Running, lifting weights to get in tip-top shape for the upcoming season. But I didn’t want to and ignoring Mark was proof of that. I did have to go to PT. I wouldn’t skip on that, on making a full recovery just to avoid getting back to work. It was October. I had time. Or that was what I told myself.
“Just to keep two men sexually satisfied,” I replied.
His dick swelled as it pressed against my hip.
“I like the sound of that.”
Lucas sighed. “We have to get going. I’m helping my parents empty Erin’s house. Hailey said she’d come.”
“Besides being your sex slave, Hailey’s your buffer with your folks?” Cy asked.
Lucas looked to me, met my gaze. “Damn straight. She’s rich and famous. They love her.”
I was both, earning enough prize and sponsorship money to live comfortably. Lavishly, if I wanted. And I was famous, at least in Cutthroat Mountain circles, and that included Mr. and Mrs. Mills. I’d met them a few times over the past few weeks and they’d gushed all over me like crazy fans. I wasn’t sure if they liked me because I was famous or because a famous person was with their son. Either way, I didn’t care. After what Lucas told me about them, I didn’t feel the need to make them happy.
Cy stood, scooping me up and holding me to his chest as he did so. I gasped and clung to his neck. “Cy!”
“Your parents are cockblockers. She’s here to fuck, so we’re going to fuck. Lucas, you can have her. Later. I’ll bring Hailey to Erin’s house, and we can both help with the moving.” He started walking to his room. “First though, I want another sample of her honey pot. You’ll let my big cock in you, won’t you, sweetheart? Or do you want a spanking first?”
6
LUCAS
* * *
When my mother had called to ask for my help in packing up Erin’s things since they were selling her house, I’d stupidly thought they’d actually need it. I’d said yes because of Erin, because I didn’t think it would be easy to go through her things.
But when I pulled up to Erin’s house, there was a huge moving truck in the driveway. Two men were carrying a leather couch up the metal ramp and into the back. Another came out the front door with a large box.
I said hello, but stayed out of their way, heading inside to find my parents. They were in the kitchen, high ball glasses in hand. I could tell by the type of glass that my mother was drinking alcohol, her travel liquor case open on the granite counter by the fridge indication she’d made herself her usual Manhattan. My father had whiskey, neat. It was only three o’clock, but to them it was always five o’clock somewhere.
“Darling,” Mother crooned, coming over to set her hand on my chest and buss my cheek. I looked over her shoulder at my dad, who nodded his hello. He’d never been affectionate.
She ste
pped back and took a sip of her drink. Yup, the lovey-dovey mother moment was over.
I turned, looked out into the great room where the movers were rolling up the carpet. The carpet on which Erin had been murdered. I assumed it had been professionally cleaned after the crime scene team had finished.
“I thought you needed my help,” I said.
This was a waste of time. Why I ever imagined my mom in jeans and an old t-shirt packing a box all weepy-eyed over sentimental things was beyond me. Keith and Ellen Mills didn’t get their hands dirty. Not when someone else could do it for them.
“Oh, we do,” she added. “We need you to drive Erin’s car to the guest house. We’ll let anyone visiting use it.”
I looked down at the wood floor, set my hands on my hips. They didn’t give a shit about Erin’s car. The expensive SUV was irrelevant to them, that if they donated it to charity they could help people. Hell, I could use it for mine, shuttling vets to and from the airport. But the idea never occurred to them.
“What do you want, Mom?” I asked when I could finally look at her again.
Her perfectly sculpted brow winged up. For sixty, she looked good. Too good. While she hadn’t said it outright, I had a feeling one of her winter trips to Palm Springs involved a stop off at a plastic surgeon. Her hair didn’t have a hint of gray. Her makeup was subtle but perfect. Her perfume, the one she’d worn forever, was expensive and cloying. She wasn’t dressed to move furniture and clean out a fridge. She was dressed for a shopping trip in New York.
Since she thought she was better than everyone else, she had to dress that way, too.
“Want? I have to want something to see my son? My only… remaining child?”
I didn’t doubt she grieved for Erin. She might be ruthless, but she was a mother. And Erin had been her baby. The perfect child. Towed the Mills line. Yet she didn’t shed a tear, only used Erin’s death to guilt me with something.
“You asked me here to help you move. You don’t need it. So why am I here?”