The Obedient Servant [Going for the Gold 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  How he loathed Milo Stephens—and ironically, how attracted he was to the man at the same time. Why did Reynaldo keep falling prey to Milo’s blatant manipulations? It was plain to the biggest dough-head that Milo was an expert at the art of seduction, both physically and emotionally. How could he compete with Milo for the affections of Tallulah, when at any given moment Milo was capable of persuading Reynaldo into another hot session of illicita libido? How could Reynaldo court the sloe-eyed innkeeper when any moment might find him behind a barn, allowing himself to be mounted by that satyr? Whatever would Señorita Crabtree think if she saw them as much as frig each other, much less screwing in the violent manner they had done on the Sacramento River?

  Yet just reminiscing about it made Reynaldo’s balls shiver with delight. How could he put a stop to Milo’s machinations?

  Or, better yet, put a stop to the ardent way he responded to Milo.

  Reynaldo puttered about, attempting to write a letter to his brother in Massachusetts. He wound up asking him how the vineyard Reynaldo had planted was faring. Then he remembered Vallejo’s vineyard that Jacob Leese tended behind the barracks. Reynaldo knew from tramping around the Rockies and Sierras with Frémont that men would barter anything for a decent vegetable or fruit—for anything, really, that wasn’t a piece of a cow—so it struck him to go take a look at these vineyards. He had heard last year they’d yielded twenty barrels of wine and four of aguardiente. Señorita Crabtree probably sold some of it at her bodega.

  He was just stepping into the shade of the crude wooden balcony when he literally bumped into Milo Stephens, apparently on his way into the barracks. Reynaldo’s first reaction was to shove the damned farmer so heartily he banged up against a post. “Sal de mi camino,” Reynaldo snarled. Get out of my way.

  “Mi niego,” Milo growled back. “He venido aquí para pedirte disculpas.” I came here to apologize to you. He started for Reynaldo again, forcing Reynaldo back inside the barracks.

  Reynaldo was intrigued. This masterful pendejo—apologizing? Reynaldo leaned against the edge of a sturdy oak table and folded his arms, frowning. Maybe Milo was apologizing for having taken command of what apparently was an illegal rebellion against the Mexican government. “And what does this apology consist of?”

  Milo leaned his palms against the table next to Reynaldo. He spoke down at him in a contrite, quiet, sincere voice. “I know I took advantage of you. I know I acted like a fucking cruel-hearted pendejo. Maybe it’s true that it’s been my habit to only have two encounters with a man. But by way of apologizing to you, I wish to break that rule.”

  What? While he did feel manipulated, Reynaldo had benefited from their encounters as well. He would not soon forget that hot sucking mouth draining every last drop of seed from his balls. Milo wasn’t a selfish lover. Milo had not even gotten himself off during their rutting in the tower. Reynaldo was taken by surprise at this odd apology for something that hadn’t even occurred, so he didn’t know what to say. He remembered his vow to steel himself against the sexual attractions of this magnetic stud. “There’s no need for an apology, Milo. We were in agreement about what we’ve done. You don’t need to break your rule just to please me. I’m more interested in the ravishing señorita than in your shabby old ass.”

  But Milo’s ass wasn’t shabby. He was possessed of a handsomely rounded backside, which he now displayed as he swaggered to the wall and yanked a quirt from a wooden peg. His look was heavy with erotic intent as he slowly returned to Reynaldo, brandishing the quirt between his fingers like a conductor’s baton.

  Already he was enticing Reynaldo! Reynaldo loathed himself for staying. How weak could a man possibly be? Unbidden, Reynaldo found himself standing at attention, all senses afire, wondering what plans Milo had for the quirt. To Reynaldo’s surprise, Milo didn’t say a thing about Tallulah, as though he hadn’t heard Reynaldo state his interest. He switched the falls of the quirt at Reynaldo, one eyebrow raised. “But if I wish to break my rule, it’s to please myself, isn’t it? You flatter yourself to think it’s to please you.” And he turned the quirt around, to proffer the handle to Reynaldo.

  Reynaldo took it, unsure what was expected of him, and placed it on the table. The idea that Milo wished another interlude with him had him so fired up his penis bulged in his pantaloons and his breathing came shallow and rapid. Madre de Dios. The scent of Milo’s warm leather shirt intermingled with the pungency of Tallulah’s honeypot that appeared to imbue every inch of Milo’s skin. The idea that this man had toyed with the bountiful Tallulah made Reynaldo hotter than monkeys. He might eventually be allowed to toy with Tallulah as well. But for now, just the idea that he’d be allowed to touch Milo’s beautifully developed chest was nearly sending him to the brink of orgasm.

  But he was still angry with the maldito desgraciado, so he reached around to squeeze one of Milo’s delicious haunches. He jerked Milo to him, their cocks nuzzled together, and Reynaldo bent at the knees to rotate his cockhead against Milo’s impressive bulge. He touched the tip of his nose to Milo’s and snarled, “What if it pleases me to take you the way you’ve taken me? By brute force?”

  The corners of Milo’s mouth turned up with apparent pleasure. He also gyrated his fat cock against Reynaldo’s as he unbuckled his gun belt and let the heavy thing clatter onto a chair. “I deserve to be violated, after how I’ve treated you.”

  Reynaldo kissed Milo then, a big, bold, sloppy man’s kiss. They supped at each other’s mouths as they massaged their pricks together, their jaws working hungrily like wolves slavering at the kill. Reynaldo assisted Milo in peeling the buckskin shirt from Milo’s masculine torso, breaking the kiss just long enough to fling the shirt on the floor. Then they were back devouring each other’s mouths.

  Ah, the heat of Milo’s athletic chest! Reynaldo pinched the nipples but soon wanted to do more. Bending at the knees, he flicked his tongue across one salty nub, rubbing his cheek against the soft sprinkling of hair across the juicy pectoral. Reynaldo even delved his face into the delicious underarm, aroused to suck on the tuft of hair there. Milo hissed and gasped when Reynaldo fully suckled on his stiff nipple, and Reynaldo hastened to suck a trail down the center of the firmly ridged abdomen, guided by the silken arrow of hair that delved beneath his flimsy red pantaloons.

  “Do it, do it, do it,” Milo commanded, massaging the back of Reynaldo’s scalp, swiveling his hips against Reynaldo’s shoulders.

  Clumsily in his frenzy, Reynaldo untied the fringed leggings, brutishly yanking down the leather and cotton all at once. Milo’s plump, rigid dick sprang out at him, but Reynaldo had no intention of giving him that sort of pleasure. So instead, all in a rush, Reynaldo stood, spun Milo around so he faced the table, and shoved him between the shoulder blades so his palms slapped against the table.

  Oh, madre de Dios, this was one fine specimen of manhood displayed to him. Reynaldo paused briefly to admire the sculpted muscles that played across Milo’s shoulders and back, finely honed from working the plow and roping cattle. Reynaldo smoothed his palm over the exquisitely curvaceous ass, fondling it with affection, then bestowing a harsh smack to it, as Milo had done to him on the river.

  “There,” he said with satisfaction.

  But Milo chuckled, apparently amused with his feeble efforts to dominate him. He wiggled his shapely ass and nodded at the quirt on the table. “Whip me,” he said breathlessly. “Punish me for how I’ve punished you.” He spread his feet farther apart on the cold floor to display his submission.

  Reynaldo had once been submissive for Milo, so he was familiar with how it worked. But he surprised even himself with the eagerness with which he snatched up the quirt. Before he was even aware of it, he was smacking the naked ass with the falls of the quirt—and not lightly, either. Immediately several red welts were raised, and it only fanned Reynaldo’s zest.

  “You’ve got an irresistible ass,” Reynaldo admitted. Try as he might, he could not be as heartless as this brutal stud.

  �
��Go ahead,” Milo insisted between clenched teeth. He spread his moccasins even farther apart so Reynaldo could view his hanging ball sac swaying between his thighs.

  Reynaldo hadn’t for a minute stopped thinking about the river, how Milo had alternated his erotically stinging slaps with his gratifying caresses—how Reynaldo hadn’t known whether he was in pain or ecstasy. “Tu maldito desgraciado,” he snarled, and whipped the naked ass. This time he allowed the tips of the falls to stray between the jiggling globes, and when Milo flinched and hissed in air, he knew he’d whipped the full testicles. So he did it again, and the act filled him with power and lust. “Usted es muy varonil,” he whispered. You are very manly.

  “Oh God, yes,” Milo muttered, his head hanging loosely on his neck. “That hurts so good.”

  Reynaldo was absolutely wild with desire now. Recalling how Milo’s expert use of the tallow soap bar on the river had driven him over the edge, he snatched up a tin of bear grease the troopers used to oil their saddles, among other handy uses. He spun the lid onto the table and daubed three fingers into the grease. Hard like wax at first, the grease warmed and liquefied when Reynaldo smoothed it over the curvaceous rise of Milo’s ass, admiring the twin dimples set in the small of his back. When he spread the grease over the hot, reddened ball sac, Reynaldo nearly lost it. Semen surged up his prick, leaving a wet spot on the front of his red pantaloons. He spoke just to take his mind, or his prick, off the delicious sight Milo presented, splayed before him, offering his ass for Reynaldo’s delight.

  “You’re the deviant, perverted reprobate,” Reynaldo snarled, giving the balls a big squeeze. Milo shuddered, and gooseflesh rose on his shoulders. Reynaldo smacked the jiggling ass several more times with the quirt, knowing it would sting more deliciously with the layer of bear grease lubricating it. “You think you can mount any man who takes your fancy.”

  “Yes,” Milo hissed.

  Reynaldo yanked away the leather thong that held Milo’s hair in a pigtail at the back of his neck. Milo’s scalp was hot and wet with sweat. “You think every man you want will be willing to be seduced by you.”

  “Yes.”

  “What about when the shoe’s on the other foot? Or the whip’s in someone else’s hand?”

  Milo didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. I’ve never been whipped before.”

  This touched Reynaldo profoundly. That Milo had never submissively offered his ass to anyone before, that he’d never spread his feet apart and allowed his balls to be spanked, brought out a wild beast in Reynaldo he’d never known was there. In a snap Reynaldo tossed down the quirt and wrapped a long arm around Milo’s torso. He covered the powerful back, cradled Milo to his chest while his other hand fumbled to untie his own leggings. He licked and bit the back of Milo’s neck, lapping up the manly sweat, spearing his fingers through the wet hair.

  “Do me,” Milo snarled. “Ream me up the ass with your fat prick.”

  Reynaldo’s cock sprang free, and when he fumbled for the bear grease tin, he found his hand wrapped around Milo’s enormous member. How had that fat cock ever slid into his ass? “Dios mío, que grande,” he murmured in appreciation.

  He could hear the smile in Milo’s voice, proud that Reynaldo admired his penis. “I told you that you like cock.”

  Reynaldo remembered that, on the shores of the Sacramento. Milo had known that before Reynaldo even did. He smeared up his own cock with the grease and positioned the glans against the tight bud of Milo’s eager ass. “You were right,” Reynaldo whispered, and plunged his cock inside his lover.

  At first he thought from the loud groan Milo let loose that he was injuring him. But after getting his grip on the table and stabilizing himself, Milo wiggled his hips to show subservience, maybe even yearning. “Oh, God. That’s it,” Milo said. “Do it. Fuck me, Vargas. Bumfuck me hard.”

  Milo held his muscular body up off the table, his pulsing, purplish dick begging for release, bobbing above the tin of bear grease. Reynaldo had never penetrated another man, and it was heavenly, how tight and hot the clenching rectum around his prick, how cushiony the rounded ass when he plunged it into the hilt.

  He went slowly at first. Milo rotated his hips salaciously like a seductive Far East dancer, and Reynaldo couldn’t resist slurping and nipping at his satiny shoulders, browned by working in the sun. With his mouth close to Milo’s ear, he grunted, “You’re a seductive beast. You know it, too. You’re still manipulating me even though you’re offering me your ass.”

  “Oh, go to blazes,” Milo rasped. “I wouldn’t let just anyone hump me like an animal. That’s it, Vargas. Stroke me. Find that spot I found inside your ass. Admit you want it. Admit you want to rub me there and watch me shoot my load across this table.”

  Reynaldo was about to admit that very thing. He squeezed Milo’s greasy, whopping dick in his fist, but behind him, someone gasped in surprise. Instinctively he swiveled his torso around. He’d never minded being watched before while performing, but the gasp sounded suspiciously…feminine.

  At first all he saw was the curvy silhouette of a woman in a full Californio skirt that didn’t quite cover her ankles. Reynaldo froze, because it was not usual for a woman to gape at men rutting. Californio women twittered or blanched in embarrassment and skittered away. This woman just stood like a deer waiting to be shot, a hand lightly resting on her throat.

  “Come on, Vargas,” grunted Milo. He squeezed Reynaldo’s fingers around his meat, urging him on. “Screw me good. I want to feel you shoot me full of hot jism. Why are you—oh.”

  Milo sounded pleased that Tillie Crabtree stood in the doorway. But Reynaldo had never been this mortified in his life, to be caught in flagrante delicto mounting another man like a stallion. Caught by the woman he’d been attempting to court.

  Chapter Seven

  Milo fairly purred with pleasure when he twisted his neck around to see what Reynaldo was looking at and saw Tallulah standing in the doorway. Aha. Dobry. Good. She had followed his instructions and waited ten minutes before following him into the barracks, where he’d been confident he could easily seduce Corporal Vargas for the third time in as many weeks. Now he could give her what she had wished for—the vision of two men going hard at it. What she chose to do about this was up to her.

  He knew he was just proving Reynaldo’s point by setting this up. He was a maldito desgraciado, that was certain. He was a manipulative bastard. It was true he’d never been mounted by a man before. He preferred to be the aggressor, the one in control, the one with the power. But he knew that if he tempted Reynaldo by offering his ass for the taking, Reynaldo would cave. And instead of Reynaldo giving Milo the what for, pasting him, and running out of the room, Tallulah would find them in the sultriest compromising position that would have her pussy juices flowing.

  Now Tallulah came around the side of the men, her wide eyes fixated on their locked haunches, hand to her mouth in shock. Reynaldo was as still as a stalked elk, only his thighs quivering, his prick deep inside Milo twitching. Milo, however, was proud that her dark, wide eyes were fully taking in his nude, athletic body. He had no shame. He’d been working the plow since a youth in Poland and when very young had become acutely aware how girls’ eyes gleamed if he chanced to display his biceps. Since his wife’s death he’d used this to his advantage to seduce, well, any man who caught his fancy, as Reynaldo correctly accused him of.

  “Milo,” Tallulah whispered with wonder. “You’ve been up to the devil’s work.”

  Immediately Reynaldo jerked and began to pull of out Milo’s ass. “Señorita Crabtree, you must be getting the wrong impress—”

  Tallulah held a calming hand to Reynaldo’s shoulder. “Don’t move,” she commanded. Reynaldo was still nearly fully clothed, having just yanked down his pantaloons to unsheathe his cock—and besides, Milo knew that the woman was dying to touch a man’s naked skin. She did, running her hand over Milo’s bare, sweaty chest, obviously taking great delight in rolling the nub of his nipple bet
ween thumb and forefinger. “What sort of ‘wrong impression’ could I get, Corporal? You’re buried balls-deep in this delicious commander of the rebels.”

  “She’s right,” panted Milo. His cock jumped when Tallulah tweaked his nipple, and now she ran a hand down his flank to fondle the slope of his ass, fingering the raised welts there. “What excuse do we have, Vargas? We’re caught red-handed.”

  “Not me!” Reynaldo made another move to withdraw his prick, still rigid and jerking against Milo’s prostate, but Tallulah slapped the corporal’s naked butt.

  “I told you not to move!”

  Milo smiled at her commanding tone. She had probably never engaged in play of this nature, but she was quite a natural at it. He handed her the quirt Reynaldo had tossed to the table. “Perhaps the corporal needs punishment as well.” And he backed his ass up against the corporal while wiggling his hips, the better to lodge the bulging cockhead deep inside him. Reynaldo’s hot, full balls swayed against his.