Acres, Natalie - Sex Junkie [Cowboy Addiction 1](Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (4 page)

“I’m not some kind of whore-for-hire.”

“We never implied you were,” Grant told her. “Besides, who said you’d get paid? You won’t have a dime to your name. If you don’t have any money, you can’t buy your dope.”

“I don’t want any,” she assured him while cursing herself for dishonesty. The cravings only intensified with these two around.

“Didn’t you say you’d still take the needle over a hot cup of coffee?” Blake asked.

“Yes, but…”

“No buts,” Grant interrupted her. “Unless, of course, you’re offering up yours.”

She glared at them then. “Just who do you think you are, talking to me like this?”

“I’m the man who will lie down beside you and keep you safe at night.”

“So will I,” Blake assured her.

“You expect me to sleep with both of you? That’s insane!” And the most delicious suggestion she’d ever heard.

“No it isn’t,” Blake objected. “You’ve always been a junkie, Morgan. In high school, you were an adrenaline junkie. You moved on from there. Now, if you want to get high, you’ll get a rush from us.”

“By going to bed with one of you and then jumping in bed with the other fella the very next night?”

“Oh no,” Grant drawled. “That’s not how this works. You misunderstood. You will be in bed with both of us at the same time and you will submit to our every desire.”

“This won’t work. You both know it.”

“Why?” Blake asked.

“It just won’t.”

“Give us one good reason,” Grant said.

“You mean outside of the obvious?” Morgan asked. “Let me remind you of how possessive you both are.”

“Why don’t you,” Blake teased.

“Blake, we may have been young when we were together, but you were impossible. A young man—or heaven forbidden, his father—might look my way, and you were ready for a street fight.” A beat later, she turned to Grant and said, “And you? How many black eyes did you give, all in the name of love?”

“We’ve shared women before,” Grant told her.

That confession was like taking a shot through the heart.

“Quite a few times,” Blake added.

Correction, a dagger. Several at one time.

“Well screw me for being in the dark.”

“We will,” Grant teased. “Whenever we get the chance.”

“I don’t know,” she said, ignoring his attempt at humor. “You’ve never shared me before. I came in between your friendship once, I won’t do it again.”

“You couldn’t anyway. We’ve already discussed this at length, Morgan. Blake and I are too busy for a committed relationship. What woman would be happy with either of us?”

“Oh, I get it. Separately, you’re bound to fail at pleasing a woman. Together, you can offer a gal everything she hopes to find in one man.” She shook her head. “Only instead of one, I’m forced to accommodate two?”

“That’s right,” Blake replied. “Believe me when I tell you, I don’t think you’ll view us as an imposition.”

“No,” Grant said, a dry chuckle leaving his lips. “We’re hardly asking you for a personal sacrifice.”

“You’ll be taken care of at all times,” Blake said, offering another round of reassurance.

“I need to lie down.”

“Not until you give us an answer,” Grant remarked.

“I can’t give you one until I think about it.”

“You have less than a minute,” Grant informed her, looking at his watch. “Starting now.”

Morgan felt like she was being backed in a corner. She wasn’t sure why they were doing this, but she was pretty clear on what they wanted from her. They were after her body. They wanted sex, both of them, at the same time. What the hell was that?

She compared men. Grant was the epitome of a cocksure cowboy. He possessed a dark and mysterious confidence, the kind of attitude a woman wasn’t sure she loved or hated. He’d changed considerably since he’d lost his brother. His natural smile, always indented with dimples, made him easy on a woman’s eyes, but underneath the outer layers lived a man she didn’t know.

Grant wore his hair off his face, pulled back in a ponytail. He had layers of curls when he released the rubber band, and she remembered all too well how much she loved running her fingers through the soft locks.

Blake, on the other hand, was tall, dark, and handsome, not quite as intimidating as Grant. Then again, Blake had known her since she was a small child. He often treated her like one, not that she minded. She remembered the way he’d loved and adored her, careful to give her a gentle kiss and an easy touch. Blake and Grant ruined her for all other men.

Why then was it so hard to imagine the two of them taking her to bed?

Her nipples throbbed as she considered the possibilities. The loving would undoubtedly be incredible, second to none. Her pussy clenched. But how could this work? She was so small in comparison to one of them, much less two.

Morgan took a deep breath and considered the facts. Kilo was coming after her. He would find her when she was the weakest, and he would kill her unless she had someone to stop him.

She studied the only two men she’d ever loved and thought of the looming dangers. Kit and Kemper wouldn’t be back for at least a week. She didn’t want to stay by herself while she awaited their homecoming. Then again, she didn’t want to place Blake and Grant in the line of fire just because of the choices she made.

“I can’t do this,” she blurted out without further consideration. “You might get hurt.”

“I don’t think so,” Grant said, winking. “I haven’t met a dog yet that I can’t put down if the notion strikes me.”

“Either you want to get better or you don’t,” Blake told her gently. “If you do, we have a fail-proof way to ensure you’re protected. You won’t return to the drugs. You won’t see Kilo again. And you’ll be back to feeling like yourself sooner than you might think.”

“Why are you doing this again?”

“She’s stalling,” Grant muttered. “Come on, Blake. We can’t help her if she’s unwilling to help herself.”

“Wait!” she exclaimed as they turned to walk away. “I’ll do it.”

They didn’t wait for her to change her mind, and they didn’t ask her if she was sure. Instead, they swapped one of those knowing stares men often share.

Then, they pursued her.

* * * *

“What happened to the nap you promised me?” Morgan asked as Blake secured her arms, binding her hands to the bedposts.

“You said you needed to lie down. We said as soon as you gave us an answer, you could. Did we tell the truth or not?”

She set her jaw. “I’m not well enough for this.”

“You’re not sick,” Grant said. “That’s what used to drive me insane about my brother. In his final days, he acted as if he were terminally ill. Yes, you are unwell because you have a drug problem. Yes, you’re an addict. But you aren’t terminally ill. You aren’t dying, and if you were ever in any immediate danger, it was when you were detoxing by yourself. You survived that. You’ll survive anything.”

“Even this?” she asked, her gaze darting between men.

“Especially this,” Blake said, his lips hovering over hers as he propped up her head, placing a short stack of pillows under her neck and shoulders.

“I don’t have the energy I used to have,” she said, squirming as Grant grabbed her right leg.

He removed her sandal and caressed her ankle. “You’re so thin, Morgan.”

“She needs to put on some weight,” Blake agreed.

“I eat.”

“What? Lettuce and a carrot?” Grant asked, tying her leg to a post. When he secured the other one, he added, “Ah hell, I forgot how limber you are.”

The longing strummed through his voice as his fingers marched up and down her lower leg. His ravenous touch heated her pussy, making her yearn for more.

“I didn’t,” Blake said, moistening his lips. “She could work those legs better than a pretzel twists.”

Grant jerked. “Hmm, I can’t remember.”

“Liar,” Blake said, chuckling.

His lips skimmed across hers. Morgan found herself stretching for a better sample, a little peck to let her know this was more about her and their feelings for an old love they’d never forgotten rather than about making her well, keeping her sober.

“How do you think I can get away if Kilo comes here?” she asked, yanking her arms up and sideways only to discover there was very little play in the rope securing her. “You’ve tied me up and left me vulnerable.”

“Do you see either of us leaving this room?” Grant asked.

“No.”

“Then don’t doubt either one of us again,” Grant said, tickling her toes.

She giggled then, and the release of laughter felt good, completely refreshing. In recent weeks, all she’d done was cry.

She’d sobbed over the loss of Kilo, not because she loved him, but because she needed him. She’d cried when she’d left Memphis, fearing she’d never return to the city she’d loved at first sight. Then, she wailed like a baby, throwing tantrums and fits as the detox process brought her to her knees.

Now, if anyone ever told her to go to hell—as Kilo often did—she could tell them she’d seen the glow from its dancing flames, truly experienced its unforgiving fires, met the devil, shaken his hand, and even gotten to know a few of those who’d gone before her.

“What are you thinking?” Blake asked, studying her face.

Unaware she’d zoned out, she said, “I was just reliving a memory or two. It’s nothing.”

“Is it private?” Blake asked.

“Yes, sort of.”

“You can’t have secrets from us,” Blake reminded her.

He was right. In order for them to reconnect on an intimate level, she had to open up and talk to them. If she ever wanted to put the past behind her, she had to let them know what she’d endured.

“I saw weird things during those first few days.”

“Weird how?” Blake asked.

She glanced at Grant. If he had walked down this road of addiction with his brother, he already had a pretty good idea of what she’d endured.

“There were demons after me,” she explained. “The best way to describe the first few hours would be that I slipped into one of the worst horror movies imaginable. I caught the leading role and was both heroine and villain, doomed to die and destined to live on forever.”

“What?” Blake asked, arching a brow.

“Go on,” Grant encouraged her. His eyes held the harrowing truth. Grant had already heard plenty about the devil’s serum. Meth had quite a reputation on the streets, but those who’d experienced the drug through their loved one’s addiction knew the kind of hell “ice” brought down on families and its many users.

“By the time I got to
Nashville
, I was sick and sweating bullets. The innkeeper at the motel where I checked in didn’t want to give me a room. I had to beg for one and then allow him access whenever he requested. I guess he thought I was making meth because of my outer appearance.

“Anyway, by the time I settled in for the night, I was a mess. The room started spinning, the hallucinations began, and I was in a very bad place. I heard voices. I clutched the devil’s hand and saw those who’d sold their souls, but I fought my way out of hell. I could feel the fires consuming me, the way the flames danced at my back, but I knew I didn’t want to die and go to hell. I realized there were people who loved me.

“I hung on to that. I held tightly to the possibilities that if I made it out of that hotel room alive, I’d never go back and tempt death again.”

“Then why would you take the drug if someone offered it?” Blake asked.

“It’s hard to explain. Even though I swore I’d never go back, I’m not out of the woods yet. Every day for the rest of my life, I will crave meth. I’ll want one taste of something better than the last fix I had. Unfortunately, I was a junkie. I was one of the worst of my kind. An endless supply was at my disposal as long as I did whatever Kilo asked of me. In many ways, I should be grateful to Kilo.”

“What?” Grant asked, nearly coming unglued. “That bastard allowed you to keep injecting nothing but pure poison.”

“Yes, you’re right. Still, if he hadn’t supplied me with fresh needles, I would’ve been one of those druggies out on the streets looking for one to share.”

“Oh, Morgan,” Grant rasped.

“I didn’t. I’d be willing to take a blood test. You know, just to be sure I’m clean.”

“We want you to do that, anyway. You don’t know where Kilo’s been,” Blake pointed out.

“We never had unprotected sex.”

“What about oral?” Grant pried.

She shook her head. “I know that’s hard to believe but truth is, Kilo liked to fuck, and he liked to screw a lot. That’s all he wanted to do. He was more or less a control freak and he liked making sex a dirty deed. Oral would’ve suggested he wanted intimacy and he assured me over and over again, he didn’t want a romantic relationship.”

“Was he a Dom?” Grant asked.

“No, he was just a self-serving bastard who would slip on a condom before he came to bed, grab hold of me, and screw me, generally from behind. He said it was too painful to look into my empty eyes. Then, he’d roll over and go to sleep. Generally, after he got off, he’d tell me where to find my fix. The more we fucked, the more he gave me drugs.”