Acres, Natalie - Sex Club [Cowboy Sex 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (27 page)

Graham stroked her ass with his hand and then gripped the butt plug. He twisted the piece higher inside her hollow channel and then thrust a few times.

“Graham!” she cried out. “Stop. Oh God, please stop. I’ll come if you don’t.”

The vibrator’s highest speed immediately started to jolt her entire body into a sudden spasm, but thankfully it was short-lived. While she was highly aroused, she was also glad when Graham yanked the stone from her ass with one hand while tugging free the vibrator at the same time.

A ragged breath fell from her lips. Thank heavens she didn’t end up writhing against Elliott’s shoulder, thrashing against his body while her entire ass was exposed to the other three men standing nearby.

She was incredibly comfortable with them, but there were some vantage points she wasn’t interested in giving them. Taking her release while hanging upside down wasn’t her idea of a good time.

By the time Elliott released her, she discovered a surprise. When she turned around, Bailey was undressed, standing in his boxers. Tristan slowly, nearly diabolical in his moves, unbuttoned his jeans. Their eyes met and held. She was aware of the sudden gasp lingering in the air as she awaited the rest, hoped for a real eyeful.

Tristan was beautiful. He must’ve been aware of the impact his physical body had on a woman’s naked eye. The smirk was her answer. He toyed with the loops of his jeans but didn’t remove them. He was playing with her.

Graham lost his clothing above the waist. Standing only in Wranglers, he snapped his belt, and the jingle of his buckle drew her attention. He would indeed scrap those denim blues in record time.

Elliott took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “You shower. We’ll be here.”

“I don’t think any of you are going anywhere.” She glanced at Tristan’s tented pants and noticed how he fondled his dick as if he wasn’t quite ready for her to see everything he had to share.

Slipping behind the glass wall, she held her head under the hot water, wondering if they expected another show of self-pleasure. After nearly thirty minutes of toy teasing, she wasn’t interested in masturbation.

She wanted cock. She needed good loving. Oh sure, she wanted another shower after writhing in lubes and perspiration for nearly an hour, but she still had her mind on the prize, on the men she wanted taking her to bed.

Graham was the first to enter the large stall. His hot-chocolate eyes soothed her soul, rejuvenated her spirits, renewed her strength, and somehow even restored her energy.

“Hi, honey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Bringing her against him, Graham let the length of his penis rest against her crack. She sighed in complete satisfaction. Soon, she would fuck them.

They would indeed give her precisely what she needed.

“Love me?”

“Are you asking if I do, or do you want me to love ‘on ya’ a little while?”

She swallowed hard and faced him.

“Which is it, honey?” he asked, his face showing signs of gentleness, of pure love, the kind of love that endures, lasts.

She knew this man. In fact, she understood Graham and Elliott better than she knew herself at times. They were steady, solid. She could trust them, but better still, she could trust her heart with them. The old adage that distance made the heart grow fonder held true. She’d missed them while they were away. And she’d realized while they were gone that she loved them, deeply, unconditionally, and totally.

“Ansley?” he pressed. “Tell me.”

Holding on to his hips, she whispered, “Yes, actually, I am asking. Do you love me?”

Why she chose that particular moment didn’t matter. For some reason, she wanted assurance.

She and Graham had been lovers on and off again since she was barely legal. He was her first. He was the one who convinced her that loving two men wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

He’d waited for the right time for a threesome. She’d always appreciate him for his perfect timing and patience.

She still remembered their special union like the event happened yesterday. She was twenty-one and home for the holidays, a college break she’d greatly anticipated. When she pulled into her driveway and discovered Elliott and Graham both waiting there, she’d known. Maybe she’d always realized how Elliott truly felt about her, too.

“I swore to love you years ago,” Graham finally said. “You just didn’t hear me.”

“What?” she asked, somewhat taken by surprise. Graham was the bad boy in high school. If he’d promised to love her, or even implied they’d one day have a future, well, she was, after all, the notorious spoiled brat. Back then, she would’ve told anyone willing to listen. She would’ve worn his love like a high-school sports letter.

At one time, all she’d wanted was Graham’s love.

“If you don’t remember, I probably shouldn’t tell you.” He ground against her. “See, I have a few other things on my mind at the moment.”

Taking the yellow bar of soap from the recessed porcelain niche, he gave her a twirl and massaged her back, lathering a heavy layer of suds across her skin.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll play hard to get.”

“You always have,” he said, kissing her shoulder. A second or two later, he released a weighted sigh. “We were fifteen, Ansley.”

She laughed. “Then no wonder I don’t remember. I hated you when we were fifteen.”

“You’d fallen in that partially filled well out at old man Taylor’s farm. Remember?”

“How could I forget?” Ansley said, stretching her neck when he bracketed his thick arms around her waist and drew her completely against him.

“I thought you were dying. I had no idea the well was only six feet deep. That hole in the ground was so dark I couldn’t see you. Anyway, I told you then. I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

Her heart swelled with love as she recalled the fear in his voice that day, the way he’d made all sorts of promises, and then his words came back to her. She could almost hear the screeching panic falling from his lips, the threats he’d spewed as well as the reassurance he gave.

“You’ve always had a good memory, Ansley. I’m sure you remember, verbatim, what was said.”

“I do now. You said if I wasn’t a dumb girl with boobs, you’d like me. And if I grew up to have some smarts about me, one day you might love me, but you wouldn’t be able to love me forever if I didn’t come up out of that well.” A beat later, she added, “Then I later found out you flagged down old man Taylor and told him you’d beat his hide if he didn’t save my life.”

“Yes I did,” he said, his fingertips slowly circling her nipples. “I meant to beat the old man’s tail, too. He didn’t seem overly concerned, which only fueled my anger.”

She reached behind her back and latched on to his cock. She pumped him, moving her hand up and down as she enjoyed the feel of his steely length. “You’re such a bad boy.”

“Hmm, baby, you have no idea.”

“No, you’re right. None at all. You’ll have to remind me.”

“Gladly,” he whispered, nuzzling her. “That feels so good, Ansley. Damn how I’ve missed you.”

“You think this does? Wait until I let you give me a load of pure bliss,” she turned, used his thighs for support, and knelt before him.

“Oh no you don’t,” Bailey said, entering the shower and catching her before she wrapped her fingers around Graham’s thick dick once again. “Graham didn’t give you permission, and if I were you, I wouldn’t expect any of the rest of us to grant our consent. We still haven’t heard you agree to submit to each and every one of us present here today.”

* * * *

Ansley stood in front of the bed. She felt like she was attending some kind of Dom-sub commitment ceremony. She positioned her hands behind her back and pressed her chest forward. Planting her feet on the plush carpet, she kept them about five inches apart.

Bailey used a fluffy white towel to dry her, carefully patting her pussy several times before he eased away. “There, doll. You’re all nice and dry, now.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she grumbled, thinking her pussy would remain forever damp if they didn’t take a second out of their busy Dom-sub planning and give her a memorable fuck.

“What
would
you say?” Tristan asked, adjusting the bedsheet over his lap.

Damn
. He’d undressed without her around to supervise. Whatever he was keeping under lock and key must’ve been something else. On a positive note, he was naked. When he moved to the left or right, his hipbone grazed the top of the fabric. If he shifted again, she might catch a glimpse of his cock.

Graham’s back was against the magnificent wooden headboard. He looked at her like she was sex in a display counter, eyeing her carefully as if he couldn’t decide which part of her he wanted to finger and lick first. “Sweetheart, why don’t you use one word to describe how you feel right this minute?”

“Wet,” she said without missing a beat. “And I will be until you give me what I want.”

Tristan chuckled. “And what would that be again? I don’t remember a specific request.”

“I need to fuck.”

“Uh-huh. Didn’t your mother tell you nice girls don’t fuck for kicks?”

“Then what do nice girls do, exactly, Tristan?”

He lifted the sheet and folded the single layer of bedding over to the side. Immediately her gaze fell to his cock. Good Lord, the man was stacked. With a long length, ideal width, and visibly weighted balls, Tristan seemed proud—and he should’ve been—to finally show her his body. Her lips smacked before she could stop the instant reflex.

“That’s my girl,” Graham said. “You’re speaking a man’s language now.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tristan crooned. “Now you have the right idea.”

She walked toward the bed, but Tristan abruptly said, “Stop right there.”

Standing about three feet away from him, Ansley felt her hard, tender points swell again as the vent above shot out a wave of cool air. Shivering, she folded her arms over her breasts.

“Drop your arms. Kneel.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, blinking. She needed extra time to process Tristan’s order.

“Listen to the tone of my voice. Do I sound like the kind of man who makes a meek request, Ansley?”

So this was it. This was the moment when she made up her mind and decided whether or not she wanted to cross over the threshold and become a true submissive.

A greater force than her own strong will guided her then. Slowly, she took her position, kneeling in front of them with her head bowed.

A sudden gasp filled the room, and while she was tempted to lift her eyes, she kept them cast down. Butterflies took flight in her belly. Her palms were clammy, and she couldn’t stop her quivering knees. She wavered around regardless of how much she tried to steady herself.

God, she was nervous. She swallowed rapidly. Was this really what she wanted? She asked herself the question over and over again. The answer was always the same—Yes!

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Tristan rasped.

“Gorgeous,” Bailey agreed.

“That’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen,” Graham remarked.

“You’d better believe it,” Elliott said, a singsong quality strumming through his voice.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Tristan approached her. He offered her a hand, helping her from the floor.

The second he pulled her into his arms, she nearly came undone. His hard cock pressed against her mound, and as luck would have it, the tip rubbed against just the right spot.