by Kerri Carr
“Yes,” Angus pushed his breeches to the ground. He was suddenly very nude. His naturally tanned body glimmered with the day’s work. He took two steps across the bathroom and stepped into the tub. The water splashed around his calves. “Do you want us to go away?”
She had to swallow twice before she said, “No.”
His golden hands settled on her hips, pressing the fabric around them. He dipped his head and pressed the fullness of his mouth to hers. He tasted like cinnamon and sunlight. The gentle press of his tongue dipped between her lips and flicked against her own. Her head spun as if she had been drinking wine.
Her world narrowed down to the places where his callused fingers caressed. The fabric bunch beneath his touch, gliding over her body.
A second pair of lips touched to her neck, and her legs went weak. Travis lifted the weight of her golden hair and let his mouth tease along the skin of her back. His clever hand traced the line of her spine, skimming over the roundness of her backside before gliding between her thighs. She moaned into Angus' mouth and he swallowed it.
Her husband had never touched her like this, never offered her this kind of pleasure. She was pinned between the bodies of two men and had never felt more free. The hard press of their shafts pressed against her body. She trembled as her mind dreamed of lurid thoughts of how she was going to enjoy the pair of them.
Genevieve reached behind herself and found the root of Travis' pleasure. He made a low sound against her neck as she ran her fingers along his length. Her thumb swept along his tip and his fingers clenched her hip.
“If you continue to do that,” he whispered. “I will not last long.”
“Shame,” Argus muttered, freeing her mouth for the first time. “I feel as if I could last forever.”
“Gentlemen,” she offered, “no need to fight. I'm happy to make sure everyone is well satisfied.”
Genevieve meant it. Never in her entire marriage had she felt as if her husband was completely satisfied by her. A small part of her had always wondered if it was because nothing could satisfy him, or if she was incapable as a partner.
She took Angus' length in her free hand. She could feel the differences between the two of them, Argus had length where Travis had girth and she wanted to learn what pleased them both. Her wet hands slid over their firmness, stroking slowly at first, feeling them pulse against her palms.
She felt a charge of empowerment as their tips turned shiny with their enjoyment. She knelt between them, the water splashing around her hips, and took Angus' tip into her mouth. She felt his hand against the back of her head as she slid him over her tongue. Genevieve idled over the sensation of it gliding in her mouth before she turned her head and offered Travis the same pleasure. Back and forth she went until the pair of them where making low sounds.
“Come here,” Angus commanded. He gripped her upper arm and hauled her back into a standing position. She barely found her footing before Travis' mouth descended on her breast. He wasn't gentle this time, as he had been with her back. He sucked and nibbled at her flesh, turning the steadily growing need between her thighs into a throb, an ache.
Angus did not bother with her breasts. He dipped to his knees and pressed his mouth to the crux of her own pleasure. He grabbed her thigh and wrapped her leg around his golden back. Her toes curled against his flesh as their mouths devoured her. The slick sense of self-indulgence swam through her body, making her forget herself. Angus' tongue mapped out her cleft in wild felicitations.
She forgot how to think. Her body was nothing but sensation. The moment that her pleasure was nearly upon her they switched places. The change in rhythm, in the shift from one to the other broke the build of her high, but not the continuation of her pleasure. When she was sure she couldn't take anymore, they carried her to the living room and the makeshift bed she had been sleeping on.
Argus laid out and pulled her down to his golden form.
“Do it, Genevieve,” he whispered. “Do it.”
She spread her legs, cupping his body with hers. She felt the blunt press of his swollen tip against her entrance. She splayed her fingers against his chest and thrust herself back on him. One moment she was empty and the next she was full. She rode him with a near mindless vigor.
Travis knelt behind her. She felt the press of his swollen length against the cleft of her backside. His hands swept around and cupped her breasts, his fingers flicked across her nipples.
“Ride,” he whispered in her ear. “Ride the way you want.”
“Hmm?” she asked.
“Ride him how you want to, do what feels good.”
Angus' hands came to her hips, and she fell forward. She stopped moving up and down and started to slide herself back and forth. Her hands moved lower.
“There you go,” Travis said. “There you go.”
She moved faster, Angus' hands availed the movement. “You feel so good,” he groaned
The weight of her passion was building once more. It was a heavy thing, almost alive in its own right. Every movement, every thrust of her body fed it.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “I want more, I need more.”
Travis pushed the tip of himself against the depths of her buttocks.
“Can I?” he asked, “Genevieve, can I?”
“Yes!”
He pushed hard and suddenly Genevieve was filled. The glory of being pinned between their two bodies swept through her. She couldn't move, but she no longer had to. Angus held her hips while he thrust into her from beneath, and Travis held her shoulders while pushing from behind.
“More,” she begged, “don't stop now.”
The feeling thrilled through her, and the ball of pleasure broke. Her skin felt too tight, and then it seemed to disappear altogether. The hard edge of ecstasy rolled through her as they rocked in and out of her body. Hands gripped her, held her in place, fed that wild high until she went blind with it.
“Yes!” she cried, “Now! Please, now!”
When she hit the very height of her ecstasy they filled her.
*****
Two weeks later, she turned them in to the marshal at Silver Creek. He was an older man, well versed in the world of justice. He took custody of The Dust Devil and The Gentleman and he handed her a suitcase with the funds inside.
“Ma'am,” he plucked the cigar from his lip and gave her a smile filled with tobacco coated teeth. “I don't know how you managed this, but you've done a great thing for the good citizens of Silver Creek. Do you know they took a stagecoach around two months back?”
“Did they?” she asked.
“Oh yes, killed everyone on board. Wife, stagecoach. Bodies were all torn up by coyotes and then the rain took a good deal of everything with it.”
“That's terrible,” she gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock surprise. “Well, at least they are in good hands.”
The trick to lifting someone’s keys, Travis had explained to her, was that you had to make it all seem natural. One quick easy movement that had the person not thinking about what was going on, or they would know. Make it natural, and they wouldn't even realize what was going on.
She linked her arm through his as if they were old friends.
“You'll be taking them far from here?” she asked. “Soon, I hope?”
“First thing tomorrow morning, Ma'am.” He puffed out his chest, his mutton-chop style beard flapping with his pride at having a pretty woman on his arm. His hand was far away from his weapon. Instead it rested on her hand, where it lay on his arm. “You won’t have to worry anymore.”
“Well, I managed.”
“That you did!” He gave her a wink. “If you want to come work for me...”
“Oh no, this adventure was plenty enough for me. I plan on settling down, finding a husband, running a farm.”
“A lady like you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I've had enough of comfortable society, Marshal. All I want is to have a home and children.”
He pat
ted her hand. “Of course, of course. Well, you take care out there on that big ol' farm all by yourself.”
“Oh you.” She chuckled and placed a kiss on his bearded cheek.
Completely charmed and cherry red, he waved her of and went on his way. When he walked away from her, all she had to do is keep the keys from jingling as they pulled out of his pocket. It was surprisingly easy.
She let them see her leave town on the back of her newly purchased horse, a thick bodied creature with a slow gait that would help plow the fields. She tied him up outside of town, munching on the contents of a feed bag. There were two more with him, older but more fleet of foot.
A distraction, according to Angus, would be the easiest way to get anyway out of the jail. A fire was best.
She chose an empty building. It had been the outhouse for the church, it was small and located on the further side of town. But no one would want it to go up in flames, as the church could be next.
The fire was surprisingly easy. The outhouse was old and small enough that it took to the flame easily. She screamed out for others to come. They ran to the outhouse as she snuck away. No one would think to look for a lady when they began to piece together what had happened. They'd be looking for a young man.
The jail was empty when she arrived, save for her two men.
Hers, she thought with a smile, they were all hers.
“Did it work?” Angus asked, direct as always.
“Of course it did,” Travis explained, coming up to the bars with his particular elegant swagger. “She's here. Though I don't think that this disguise suits you.”
She did a little turn before putting the key in the lock. “Don't like me dressed as a boy?” she teased.
“I am a delightful sinner,” Travis smirked. “Little boys are not on that list.”
“Hurry up,” Angus muttered.
Moments later they were off.
The horses were still there when they arrived, unwilling to leave the comfort of the patch of grass and a tree to lean against. They mounted up and moments later were on the road.
“How long will you be gone?” she asked, reaching a hand out to either of them.
“Not long,” Angus promised.
“They will look for us. They will come here and look for us. They may even ask if you were involved. There is a chance they will tear the house apart.”
“I know,” Genevieve said. “I know. I will worry.”
Travis guided his horse towards her and laid his lips against her cheek. Moments later Angus did the same.
“We will return.” Angus placed her head against his. “Before the year is out.”
As she watched them disappear into the darkness, she knew she believed them.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 15 of 44
Sharing Seals
Description
Best friends, Patrick and Kevin, have always done everything together, from Boy Scouts to high school sports to the Navy. Now these two SEALS have returned to their hometown on leave only to discover that another close friend from school is preparing to deploy and wants to get married before he goes.
Thrown into planning an impromptu wedding, the two meet the bride's sister and soon find themselves engaged in much more than just picking out flowers and booking a wedding band.
*****
"I can't believe your room looks exactly the same," Kevin said, walking into the small bedroom at the top of the old house and reaching up to tap the bunkbed wall with one palm.
He turned around and tossed his canvas duffel bag to the floor. The clothing inside made a dull thump when it hit the worn, aged wooden boards and the canvas sagged as if it was as tired after their long trip as he was. Patrick stepped in and looked around the space with a nostalgic sparkle in his eye. He sighed, one hand clasped around the woven strap of the identical canvas duffel bag looped over his shoulder and Kevin saw a soft smile touch his best friend's lips.
There were so many memories in that space and they were all reflected in Patrick's gaze as he looked at each piece of furniture, each poster, and each reminder of his younger years throughout the bedroom. It was as if he had never walked out of it six years before when they left together to join the Navy. Now with the years of SEAL training and their first tour behind them, they were finally back in their hometown. Even though they felt completely different, much of what they had seen had proven that nothing had really changed in the little town where they had both grown up.
"It hasn't," Patrick said.
"It's like your parents kept it as a shrine to you."
Patrick laughed and stepped into the room, seemingly broken out of the sentimental spell that had been cast over him by the sight of his childhood bedroom by his best friend's sarcasm. He dropped his bag to the floor beside Kevin's and immediately clambered up the ladder onto the top bunk of his old bunkbeds.
He had never had a sibling that occupied the bottom bunk, but he had asked for the beds when he was six, and, like always, his parents had obliged. When he met Kevin just a few weeks later, it was like he was being given the brother that was supposed to go into that second bed and his instant best friend ended up spending what seemed like just as much time, if not more, in that bottom bunkbed throughout their childhood than he did in his own bed at his home.
"That's fine with me. Maybe that's what made them keep the house rather than selling it when they retired to Florida. They didn't want to interrupt a historical landmark."
Now it was Kevin's turn to laugh and flop onto his back on the lower bunk so that his position mimicked that of his lifelong best friend on the bed above him. He reached up and ran his fingers along the faded marks of the words and drawings that they had made there over the years. It was like looking at a collage of their lives, the handwriting and themes of the sentiments changing and becoming sharper and edgier as the boys grew older and the lines layered on top of the softer, more playful inscriptions of their younger years.
"That's a plausible idea," he said. "But I think it has a whole lot more to do with them wanting you to finally settle down and find some girl to marry and have a horde of little babies with. They figured that if you had a house to live in, you would just have to fill it up with a family or it wouldn't make sense."
"Yeah," Patrick said. "That will definitely be happening some time soon." Kevin heard him give a derisive laugh. "After six years in the Navy, I have no interest in getting tied down. They are just going to have to be happy with me living here with an equally not tied-down roommate for the time being."
"Speaking of which," Kevin said, swinging his legs off of the side of the bed so that he could stand up and grab his bag. "I'm going to go peruse the bedrooms and decide which one is mine."
"Peruse?" Patrick asked with another laugh. "You sure did pick up some fancy words during the tour."
"They sound good to the girls," Kevin told him. "Something about a man in uniform who sounds smart. They love it."
"Yeah, well, that might work for the girls out there, but I wouldn't recommend wandering into the bar tonight wearing your uniform. I think the girls around here are all too used to you to get fooled by that bull."
Kevin shot a glare over his shoulder at Patrick and walked out of the room. He was familiar enough with the rest of the house that he knew where all of the bedrooms were. Now that he was going to be living there with Patrick as adults, though, the space seemed different. He no longer had to think of the big room at the head of the hallway as Patrick's parents' room, or the smaller room between that room and Patrick's as his mother's sewing room. The room that had been Patrick's father's den was now empty except for rows of heavy bookshelves along one wall and a faded globe on the floor. The final bedroom at the opposite end of the hall had acted as the guest room, but as far as Kevin knew, had never had an actual guest. It had been preserved like Patrick's, exactly as it had been when they were children, complete with frilly white comforter se
t and pillows covered in a spray of miniature purple flowers and delicate green leaves.
*****
Patrick and Kevin spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking the truck that contained Kevin's belongings that they had gotten out of the storage unit where his parents had put them before they moved to another town. The family had never been particularly close, but that had been a difficult blow for Kevin to deal with when he got the letter from his mother informing him that they had sold the house that they had always lived in and were moving three towns over so that his father could be closer to his new job.
It had all sounded so positive and optimistic, but Patrick knew that that wasn't the case and that for the most part, the letter had been a lie. Kevin's family had never owned any of the houses that he lived in when he was growing up. Rather, they bounced around from rental property to rental property burning bridges with landlords and making more enemies out of their neighbors with their arguments and late night drunken screaming fits than they did friends.
As for leaving so that his father could be closer to his job, Patrick knew that Kevin's father had never been one to be able to maintain a job for more than a year or so and that at last count he had been without a job for more than a year and a half. More likely than him moving to be close to his job was, they had run out of people who were willing to rent to them and were now moving on in hopes of finding somebody who would hire such an undesirable candidate and rent to a couple without checking their rental history or credit.
Patrick had always felt bad for Kevin and the experiences that he had back home with his family, but he also knew that it was those experiences that made his friendship with him even more important. They were the closest of friends that either of them had ever had, and in a way he felt like having Kevin as his best friend gave his parents the second child that they had always desperately wanted, but had never been able to have, and had given Kevin the type of loving, supportive family that he had never been able to experience either. Almost as soon as they met, Kevin became a fixture at the dinner table, on weekend outings, in the yard playing, and even on family vacations. It was only logical that the two of them would decide to join the Navy and go for SEAL status together.
