“I’s okay, Am,” Holden said, turning my face towards him. “We can just play it by ear.”
I’d thought Waylon would step in and take control, claim me first because he was oldest. But he only stood at the fire, watching as Holden’s lips skimmed over mine. Sawyer scooted closer, but he didn’t touch me.
My heart skipped as Holden’s lips claimed mine again, more firmly this time. He shifted his position, kneeling between my knees. This was it. My heart skipped in my chest, but Holden tugged me forward, kissing my lips again. His tongue pressed between my lips, sweeping over mine. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait. Warmth built between my legs, pressure and anticipation flooding through me as his tongue tasted mine. I could just imagine how it would feel between my other lips.
Soon, his mouth moved to my ear, and shivers ran through my body. I grabbed his shoulders, massaging those gorgeous muscles. “Now,” I whispered, closing my eyes and leaning back on the couch.
Holden slid down, undoing the button of my jeans. I lifted my hips, and he slid them down. Air blew across my bare skin, and I was suddenly aware how naked I was. They were all dressed, and I was now only wearing a shirt. This was really happening.
I opened my eyes. Holden was staring at my pussy like it was the Mona Lisa, the world’s biggest ruby, and a t-bone steak combined. Which made for a weird picture, but hey, he was an artist, he could probably pull it off.
I watched as he slowly lowered himself to reach me. His huge hands moved up me, holding my waist as he lowered his mouth between my thighs. A wave of desire washed over me, and I parted my knees for him. His tongue slid between my lips. With one long, slow stroke, he erased my untouched status. I was lost in the sensation of his hot, wet tongue so thoroughly tasting what had never been so much as seen by a man before.
Now three sets of eyes had seen my most private, intimate spot.
Holden bent low again, his hands moving up to cup my breasts, his fingers firm but gentle. His wide, wet tongue started at my ass and in another stroke, moved all the way to my clit. I gasped as he swiped across my sensitive spot. My clit throbbed against his tongue and he moaned, pulsing his tongue against it.
Beside me, Sawyer shifted, stroking himself as he watched his brother’s tongue take its time with the third pass. Holden bent one more time, spreading the folds open as he slowly dragged his tongue through my wetness to my swollen clit. I leaned my head back and lifted my hips, wanting more, needing him to linger on my clit, give it a little more love and attention. The pressure was unbearable.
He sat back and licked his lips. “Thank you,” he said, then climbed to his feet.
Thank you? Did guys normally thank girls for the first taste of their cherry? For being the first tongue to ever explore me?
But none of this was normal. These men were the first to lay eyes on me, but I couldn’t say who was first. They’d all seen me at once.
They’d be the first to touch me, to explore me and taste me and fuck me, the first to come inside me and make me come. And the law said they were my brothers.
“I—can I go freshen up?” I asked.
“Of course,” Sawyer said with a grin. “Don’t take too long, though. I’m dying for a taste of that sweet pussy.”
I wasn’t sure if I should put my pants back on, but it seemed pointless, so I just stepped over them and into the bathroom. I’d said I wanted all this and more. A relationship, all of them, for a long time. But could I do it?
My body said it could handle it. My pussy throbbed with longing, aching to be filled. It felt swollen as I splashed a little water over it, cleaning it for Sawyer. Holden had definitely gotten a taste. I didn’t know what was left for the others. Maybe rinsing off between them would be enough to make them all feel like they were getting something new, instead of just tasting each other.
I patted myself dry and headed back out, feeling awkward without pants. But Sawyer erased that in a second, striding over to meet me halfway to the couch and sweeping me into his arms. He kissed me passionately, his tongue driving between my lips and claiming mine. My toes skimmed the floor as he carried me around the couch and knelt, setting me back in my spot. With a grin, he grabbed my ass and pulled me forward, to the very edge of the couch.
“Lay back and enjoy the show, Princess,” he said.
“Get her a pillow,” Waylon said, his voice flat and commanding, without emotion. He hadn’t moved since we’d started, and still stood by the fireplace with his arms crossed. I swallowed, suddenly feeling as exposed as if I were naked and spread eagle before him. Which was only halfway the case.
Holden pushed a couple pillows behind me.
Still cupping my ass in his hands, Sawyer lowered his head. But instead of going for broke like Holden had, his teasing lips met my hipbone. I could see the smile in the corner of his lips as he flicked out his tongue and wiggled it against my bare skin. I gasped at the spasm of ticklishness that went through me. Sawyer did it again, until I started giggling helplessly. Then his lips moved across my belly to my belly button, which he flicked his tongue inside. He sat back, grinning, and tugged at the bottom of my shirt.
“What happened to just a taste?” I teased.
“Sorry,” Sawyer said, not looking at all sorry. “Can I taste your nipples?”
I laughed. “Aren’t you greedy?”
“Not tonight,” Waylon said. “That wasn’t what we promised.”
I didn’t know what they’d promised, but for some reason, a tiny wash of relief went through me. Being completely naked before all three of them, when they were fully clothed, was too much. I’d never even kissed Waylon, but I could have kissed him then. Maybe all that quiet, detached observing was there for a reason. It kept me safe to have him watching so closely, picking up on my signals.
“You’re right,” Sawyer said. “We’ve got plenty of time for that. I’m not in a hurry.”
With that, he scooted back on his knees and bent, still cupping my ass. He nosed my legs apart and kissed my mound, then my clit. I arched up, having expected him to do as Holden did. Instead, his lips caressed my clit, kissing it and tugging it gently. I sucked in a breath, then stifled a cry when the tip of his tongue flicked out and swiped the sensitive tip.
The tension that had built when Holden licked me began to rise again, and that need to be filled, that unbearable cry for release, gripped my body. Sawyer’s tongue made a slow circle around my clit, as if winding me tighter. My fingers clenched in his hair, and I thought I was going to break at any moment, to say I couldn’t take it. I could feel myself growing wetter and wetter as Sawyer’s tongue squirmed lower, tasting my juices.
The tip of his tongue flicked against my opening and I cried out, arching up, unable to control my body. It wanted to be filled, satisfied. I needed release, not to be teased with the tip of a tongue. I needed to be fucked hard with his thick cock.
“That’s enough,” I heard Waylon growl.
I opened my eyes, bewildered. I’d forgotten where I was, who I was, who was watching Sawyer eat me so thoroughly, so wonderfully. Holden’s eyes were riveted between my legs, but Waylon was watching my face. His eyes burned with lust, so dark and it made me shiver. Sawyer’s lips closed around my clit and he gave one quick suck.
I cried out again, grasping his head, wanting to keep him there. But he pulled away and gave me a wicked grin. “Next time, Princess.”
Were they serious? They were going to push me to the brink and leave me unsatisfied? Was that what they’d meant by just a taste? I just got a preview, but no relief?
Before I could protest, Sawyer had stood and Waylon took his place. He grabbed me and lifted me up, off the couch. With one arm, he swept everything off the coffee table. Empty whiskey glasses and magazines tumbled across the hardwood. Waylon laid me down on the coffee table, his eyes fierce and dark as hell. A shiver of raw lust trembled my thighs as he knelt over me. Was he going to fuck me?
God, I wouldn’t say no. I wanted it, needed it, his huge cock to fill
me to the brim and break me wide open.
I gripped the edges of the table, my whole body wracked with shivers of longing.
Waylon gripped my knees and spread them wide, as wide as they’d go. I remembered then that I hadn’t washed up, that I was spread open and glistening with my own wetness and that of Sawyer’s tongue. But I didn’t care. I needed to be fucked.
Waylon released one of my knees. He licked his thumb, then gently circled it around my clit, not touching the sensitive, swollen tip. He slid his thumb through my wetness and covered my opening. I began to squirm, trying to get him to push it inside me.
“Hold still,” Waylon said, removing his thumb and licking it. Was that the taste he wanted?
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
15
Amber
Waylon’s eyes were burning as he pushed my knees open again. Sawyer gripped one of them, pulling my legs wide so he could see while his other hand undid his fly. He pulled out his cock, huge and naked, and a shiver of longing and terror ran straight down my spine. I wasn’t big enough for half his cock, let alone the whole thing.
Waylon nodded at my other knee, and Holden slipped around to hold it, his grip gentle behind my knee. He licked his lips, watching my pussy spread further open that it had been for him.
“I need it,” I gasped. “Fuck me, Waylon.”
He tore his eyes from mine, raking them down my body, then buried his face between my legs. There was no preparation like Holden, no teasing like Sawyer. His tongue swiped through my wetness, then plunged into my opening. I cried out in surprise as he sucked, drinking me down, then thrust his tongue inside me again, tunneling deeper this time. The pressure mounted, winding painfully tight. I tried to clamp my legs around his head, but the other two held them open.
“Oh God, fuck me,” I moaned.
Waylon’s tongue punched into me again and again, fucking me. Pushing me closer to an edge I knew I could never go back from once I stepped over. And I didn’t want to.
I looked up at Holden, whose eyes were hooded with lust, and Sawyer, who was running his hand up and down his huge cock. Not my brothers, but my partners in this. Waylon’s tongue drove deeper, until his nose was flattened against my pelvic bone and his teeth pressing into my flesh. I cried out and I grabbed onto the other two, Sawyer’s shoulder and Holden’s free hand, to anchor myself.
Waylon’s tongue tasted me, drank me, opened me where no man ever had. It went faster and faster until I couldn’t take it another second. The tension was unbearable. I arched up, letting go of the others and grabbing his head. I buried it between my legs, grinding myself against his face. I moaned, then cried out. His tongue filled me, and body went rigid, my walls tightening around his tongue until all at once something split. I screamed, waves of ecstasy washing over me with each pulse of my cunt around his tongue. Arching up, I drowned him in my juices, his tongue wriggling to gain my depths.
He pulled away slowly, gave one last suck to my throbbing opening, and sat back on the heels of his cowboy boots.
“Can they have one more taste?” he asked.
“Please,” Sawyer groaned. “I’m dying here, Princess.”
I didn’t realize what he was asking until Holden took my hand and squeezed. “It’s okay if you don’t want us to. But I want to taste your come.”
I couldn’t seem to form words, but I nodded mutely, my mind reeling with the intense but matter-of-fact way he’d just asked what sounded like a very dirty proposition.
Sawyer moved around my knee and bent down, swiping his tongue through my wetness and moaning as he sucked away my juices. My clit throbbed, and I could feel his body tense and jerk for several seconds. He lay his head on my stomach, breathing hard.
After a minute, he got up and disappeared into the bathroom. Holden squeezed my hand once before slipping between my knees.
He bent and slowly tasted me, his lips and tongue exploring me more thoroughly this time. He sucked gently at my clit, then slid his tongue through my wetness and dipped it into my opening. He sucked once, then lapped up the juices between my lips, on my ass and thighs. By the time he was done, that coil of desire was rebuilding inside me. I knew I’d need release again soon. At last, Holden sat up. “You tasted amazing before,” he said. “But you taste even better now.”
When he stood, I felt more naked than I’d ever felt. I’d just come, screaming, in front of three men while they all watched. I’d let them hold me open while Waylon tongue-fucked me until I was helpless to stop screaming with pleasure. Now I was lying on the coffee table with my sex naked, open, wrecked.
Waylon moved over to me and draped the blanket from the couch over me as if I were something obscene. I figured they’d both go up to their rooms to jerk off and let me get dressed. But Waylon scooped me up and carried me to the couch, where he sat, pulling me down onto his lap.
“Was that too much?” he asked.
“Yes,” I panted, still out of breath. “But no.”
For the first time, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “This is just the beginning,” he said. “Now that you’ve had a taste, are you still on board for being in a relationship with three men?”
“Waylon Westling,” I said. “Are you propositioning me?”
“Didn’t I already do that?”
“Usually you let the others do the talking.”
“They’re better at it,” he said, looking away.
For the first time, I realized maybe his silence wasn’t arrogance. Could he be self-conscious about something? Waylon, this impenetrable mountain of steel?
“I think you’re pretty good at it,” I said, snuggling closer to his chest. “You talked to me by the fire that night.”
He made a soft, snorting noise but didn’t answer. After a minute, his arms tightened around me, and he kissed my hair. I realized then that he’d had his tongue deeper inside me than I’d ever had anything, except maybe my own finger, but he’d never even kissed my lips. The thought made my face burn for a second, but it quickly turned to a sense of naughtiness.
I’d never thought of myself as someone who wanted to feel dirty and wild, but maybe I did. I had fantasies, but I’d never shared them with Charlie, of course. He would have shamed me. I played at being a bad girl, but I was only the closely regulated version of one that Charlie allowed. He made the rules not only about how far we could go, but how far I could go, how wild I could be.
I could party and get drunk and puke out the door of a cab, I could put my leg behind my head in front of an entire bar. And Charlie was cool, he wasn’t jealous. He’d laugh along with everyone else. He’d let me dance with other men. I’d even kissed other men when I was wasted, though I didn’t remember it. He’d told me. And he’d forgiven me. But I’d felt like dirt for it. It hadn’t been my choice, really, but because I was out of control drunk and horny as hell.
Now here I was, in full control of myself. And in control of how far not just I went, not just my boyfriend, but three men. I set the rules here. I made the boundaries, not them. I was the one in power. And I could be as dirty as I wanted to be.
If I had fantasies, no matter what they were, I felt safe to share them without judgment. After all, they had opened themselves and shared their deepest wish with me. I hadn’t judged them, hadn’t run. And when I shared mine, I knew at least one of the guys would be eager to fulfill them—if not all of them. I could have any of them, or all of them, or none of them, whenever I wanted. I had choices. But why choose?
It was hard to think beyond basic sex when you couldn’t have anything. Now the world had opened before me. I felt like I was becoming a new person, at least sexually. I was blossoming. I could be anyone I wanted, as wild or as chaste as I chose. I set the pace. I made the rules.
I lifted my face to Waylon. “Kiss me,” I whispered.
And he did.
16
Amber
The next day, I asked Grimes to saddle up Van Gogh so I could ride. I stood bac
k watching him work, trying to memorize everything he was doing. I’d seen Holden do it before, and it didn’t look too hard. If I could lift it, I could probably saddle her up myself.
As usual, Grimes didn’t say a word, but he gave me creepy looks every now and then, eyeing my body like a dog watching meat marinating on the counter. Since I was wearing a scarf and a puffy yellow down jacket, his lusty looks were either a testament to how little he was getting from his wife or how much marshmallow Peeps turned him on.
When he finished saddling the horse, I took the reins and led her out, trying not to notice his eyes slithering down my legs as I passed him. Outside, I shoved my foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn, and hoisted myself up. I threw my leg over Van Gogh, got myself settled into the saddle, and gave the horse a gentle squeeze with my knees, shaking the reigns to encourage her. Relieved to be away from Grimes, I let my hood fall back and the chilly wind whip through my hair, searing my cheeks.
It felt good to be out in the fresh air, in all that wide open space. I realized as I rode that all that emptiness around me didn’t feel weird anymore, like I’d hurtle off the earth because there was nothing to hold onto. When I’d first come to Wyoming, it had seemed too big, but now, as the horse began to trot, I realized that I loved all that space. Space to run the horses, to move the cows from one pasture to the next. Space to run away and think when I needed to.
If I was living with three guys, there were bound to be days when I needed my space. As much as I desired and adored them, I liked my own time, too. It might get exhausting to be wanted by three men all the time. I tried to imagine the four of us crammed up in some tiny New York apartment. It just wouldn’t do.
But out here…out here, I could ride away on Van Gogh, have space to breathe. And it wasn’t really empty space, like I’d thought when I arrived. There was lots here—the aspens along the edge of the property, fences dividing it, a creek, grass, bits of snow in the shade, fields, feeders, barns, hay bales, watering tanks, ponds, farm equipment, the little cabins…
Wrangle Me, Cowboys: A Reverse Harem Forbidden Romance (Coyote Ranch Book 2) Page 7
