Acres, Natalie - Sex Junkie [Cowboy Addiction 1](Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

“That was the problem, huh, Morgan? You wanted what I had and everybody else, too.” He grunted. He could fix that. If she liked threesomes, maybe she’d get off on a little chain reaction. Hell, he wouldn’t just give his brother a stab at that, he’d call his cousins and their neighbors, too.

“Well have us a good, old-fashioned gang bang,” Kilo mumbled.

No wonder these boys lived in the country. With the toys and gadgets they had in their basement, why hell. They would’ve been arrested in the city if someone had seen what he watched. And he couldn’t even begin to think about the noise coming from over there. He was as hard as a missile and ready to explode the second he heard her purring better than a pussycat.

And with the thought of her slippery pussy, he had even bigger plans. He’d tap that before they got on the road and headed home. “Oh yeah,” he muttered to himself, patting his hard-on. Those two-bit cowboys didn’t have anything on him. They didn’t have shit to hold over her, either. With what he had in his pocket, Morgan wouldn’t just crawl back to him. She’d run.

He stuffed his hand back in his jeans and gave himself a hard pull, running the top of his thumb over his swollen prick. He’d surely missed Morgan. Her replacement whined about having sex every other day. Morgan spread her legs whenever she wanted to get high.

What the bloody hell had he been thinking in the first place? He’d meant to replace Morgan with Karen, but fuck, he’d rather have a junkie in his bed than a used-up hooker who belonged back on the streets.

Obviously, Morgan knew how to fuck. Her replacement just lay there and moaned, acting as if his cock was the best one hanging.

He’d like to think so, but he wasn’t well-endowed. Karen was great for stroking a man’s ego, but Morgan had it going on for stroking what he now couldn’t wait to let her toke on, too.

Kilo pressed the binoculars against the bridge of his nose and studied the basement window again. He needed one of those wheels. He’d never seen anything quite so appealing until he saw Morgan bound to the wooden spokes. Hell, he’d seen her pussy glistening from there. Okay, so maybe his imagination was running a little wild.

Tucking his hand away again, he rubbed the slit of his dick once more. He withdrew his arm and returned his focus to the second floor window.

Fuck! What had he missed?

Holding the glasses against his forehead, he squinted his eyes and tried to find them. Watching Morgan with these guys had been exhausting. He’d fumbled around with his cock for the better part of two hours. He needed a little relief.

Morgan was bound to the bed again, but where were those morons she’d been screwing? He scoured the entire top floor trying to locate her fellows, those deadbeat cowboys who must’ve thought he’d give Morgan up without a fight.

Not a chance. The bitch owed him over a hundred grand, and now she could work it off. She was obviously worth more to him alive and able than dead and cold.

Kilo laughed aloud and stuffed the binoculars in his shirt.
Opportunity
was best enjoyed when no one expected to see a second chance coming. The cowboys must’ve hit the showers.

He watched for any movement. Then, he glanced at the open windows on the main level one final time.

All clear! Great. He’d hurry over to the house, grab his bitch, and they’d get the hell out of there. By midnight tonight, he’d know firsthand how well Morgan could her earn her keep and work off the dough she owed.

Oh yeah. He was planning on a good time enjoyed by all. With any luck, he’d turn a profit on the junkie he almost set free. He could almost hear his phone ringing off the wall now. Whores like Ms. Keesling brought top dollar for a reason. It was difficult for men with eclectic tastes to find a woman like Morgan.

He snickered. Not only did she perform well, she seemed to enjoy herself, which mattered to some men. Kilo didn’t care either way.

“If she’ll do it for free, she’ll do it for me,” he sang, descending from his perched position. “Ah yes, Morgan. You and I are about to reconcile and have us a mighty fine time.”

* * * *

“What have we here?” Grant asked, glaring at the sorry son of a bitch who apparently wasted little time in traveling to Blountville. When he’d first spotted the asshole practically dangling from the tree, he almost didn’t believe his eyes. This guy was some piece of work. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you were already nearby when we spoke on the phone.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Kilo asked, brushing off his hands.

“Kilo, let’s not dance here, brother. I rope steers and ride bulls. I play with big girls, grown women, and I have no patience for little girls who wear their hats backwards and their pants so low they look like they’ve been shanked several times,” Grant taunted him, watching his tan skin turn pale.

“Grant, don’t be rude. Our guest may need a formal introduction,” Blake said.

“You reckon?” Grant asked, clenching his fists.

Blake aimed the gun at Kilo’s cock. “Oh yeah, I think a man has a right to know who’s gonna blow his dick off. What do you think?”

“For the record,” Grant drawled. “I ain’t seen Blake here on his knees. And he sure ain’t offering to loan you our woman.

“Given the fact you watched us with your binoculars, I’d say you already know Morgan won’t be servicing you anytime soon—or more correctly, ever again.”

“She ain’t anything but a junkie,” Kilo said, twitching as he moved, acting like a coked-out crackhead. “But, man, if you want her, we ain’t gotta fight about this. I’ll name my price. You can pay up, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Is that right?”

“Of course, yeah. You know, since she’s a junkie and all. I’ll try to set a fair price.”

“You’re right about one thing. I’ll give you that. Morgan is an addicted somebody,” Grant said, his nails biting into his palms. “She goes at my cock like she ain’t ever gonna get enough.”

Kilo’s left eye twitched and his brow furrowed. Grant narrowed his gaze on the man who’d made Morgan his pawn. He saw right quick-like that this man wasn’t going away without a fight. And as for selling her at a fair price, Grant might have laughed at that if this guy Kilo wasn’t so pathetic. Apparently, he really thought he could sell another human being.

“I ain’t leaving without her,” Kilo said, studying his fingernails. “I was thinking about, you know, selling her to ya, but on second thought, I want her with me.”

“Is it because you love her, or because you refuse to let another man—or men—make her happy?”

“What difference does it make?”

Grant turned toward Blake and shrugged. “He’s right. It doesn’t make a damn to me either way.”

Kilo flashed a couple of gold teeth. His smile widened and then rapidly dimmed.

Before Blake could stop him, not that Grant expected he might, Grant threw the first punch of many. Once he started the beating, he couldn’t hit Kilo hard enough or often enough.

* * * *

In the distance, Morgan wailed like a baby. Her cries only added fuel to the fire. She would deal with the nightmares and cold sweats for a long time coming, and the least Grant could do was fight for the woman he used to know, for the lover who’d owned his heart right from the start.

He threw a left hook, and then a right one. Then, he thought of another reason to throw a few more for good measure. He hit Kilo on his left side, imagining he must’ve provided drugs to someone like his brother, too.

“Holy shit, man! Stop! I give, okay! I give! I’ll uh…get lost! Ouch! Motherfucker, you just broke my nose!” Blood squirted everywhere.

“Men like you don’t give a damn about anyone, and God help the person who needs some compassion. People like you rob from charities to pad the pockets of the rich, throwing in a few bucks’ worth of drugs, too, just for good measure and a quicker hook!”

“Man, you got this all wrong! Stop it!” Kilo didn’t defend himself, and by all accounts, Grant continued to attack him, refusing to listen to anything the man might say.

Grant bitch-slapped him a time or two more, his hands popping Kilo’s jaws automatically and so rapidly he wasn’t sure he could stop unless someone made him. Kilo yelled and he tried, somewhat, to talk Grant down, but it was no use.

Grant grew angrier. In the distance, Morgan cried out, screaming at the top of her lungs as another nightmare led her into the kind of hell from which she’d never completely escape. Grant knew that for certain. He’d watched his brother fall victim to the horror discovered in the clutches of crystal meth.

Hearing Morgan, Grant began obsessing over his brother Scott. He thought of Kilo or someone like him helping Scott put a drug in his arm, handing him the needle, giving him the dope.

Grant all-out assaulted Kilo then, punching him over and over again until he was blinded by the anger, provoked by the fury and choking on pure rage.

“I lost my brother! Damn you! I won’t lose my woman to a fucking drug, too!” He backed away and kicked him. The fury had gone too far now. His rage and anger were out of control. This was a defining moment, one from which he couldn’t escape.

“That’s enough, Grant!” Blake screamed, trying to pull him off and push him back.

Grant still couldn’t stop. He was like a locomotive propelling down a narrow track with only one destination now—prison. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He wanted this guy to die for what he’d done to Morgan, what guys like him had done to other young women like Morgan.

He wanted him dead because his brother was dead.

Another hit followed a swift kick. Another wail resounded in the distance. “Morgan suffers today because of you!”

Kilo’s protests had long since faded away.

“Grant! You have to stop! You’re gonna kill him!”

A fountain of sweat spewed off his body. “No! This substance abuse problem has to stop! It’s affecting everyone around us! Don’t you see? Mothers and fathers lose their children every single day to this drug. Babies lose their parents. There’s an epidemic out there, and our country’s politicians prefer to fight wars that don’t concern them!”

Exhausted, Grant was finally overpowered when Blake dragged him away from a badly beaten Kilo. “Fighting never solves anything. You know this! What the hell has gotten into you?”

He glared at the man curled up at the foot of the large oak tree. “If my brother is dead in his grave, those who supplied him and others like him have tombstones with their names on them, too. I intend to help bury them under the cold stones awaiting them.”

Blake shook his head. “Grant, there are too many of them. If you kill Kilo, there will be others. You’re a bigger man than this guy. If you want to beat this thing, you do it the right way. Don’t stoop to a drug dealer’s level and fight with guns or fists.”

“You’re right,” Grant said, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Are you okay?”

Grant stared off in the distance. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t feel any better, do you?”

“I would’ve felt better if you’d let me kill him.”

Chapter Eleven

Morgan cried out in her sleep until Blake shook her awake, hurriedly freeing the cuffs binding her to the bedposts. Trying his best, he brought her out of the hellish entrapment so obviously full of demons and ghosts, soulless creatures, nameless friends.

“Morgan, honey, shh. It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” Blake rocked her as his arms tightened around her middle. He braced Morgan’s body against his.

When the sobbing ceased, she looked up as if to gauge the effect she had on him.

“He was here. Wasn’t he?”

Blake searched her eyes. Immediately, his gaze averted. He stared out the picture window focusing on the clearing near the large red horse barn. What had she seen? What had she heard? If she’d witnessed Kilo’s beating, would she ever forgive Grant? After thoughtful consideration, Blake was also left to wonder—would Grant forgive himself?

She moved aside the handcuffs Blake first removed when he entered the room. “Kilo was here. I know he was.”

“The important thing now is that you’re safe, Morgan.”

“But he came for me.”

“He may have come here looking for you, but he’ll never get to you. You don’t have to worry. You’ll never have a conversation with the man again. This is my promise to you. Grant and I will love and protect you until…”

“Until you decide you don’t want me again?” she asked, bowing her head, studying her clasped hands.

“It was never like that and you know it. We were young. I was stupid. We both had our share of dreams. I wasn’t sure how mine meshed with yours or yours flowed with mine.”

“You left me.”

“I always planned to come back. You know that.”

“You didn’t return soon enough.”

“You…” Blake stopped talking all at once. Oh no, he wasn’t playing this game. This was the addict’s way. He’d known several, read about plenty. Their addiction was always someone else’s fault, someone else’s problem—rarely would they own their mistakes, claim the bad choices they’d made.

“You what?” she pressed.

They also thrived on making those around them feel guilty as well.