Willow didn’t want to alienate the hulking cowboy. She had never seen a more erotic sight than watching Steffen on his knees servicing the strapping caveman, and she sure as hell didn’t want it to stop when it was just getting started. The two men had chemistry together in more ways than one. “Oh, dear Amadeo,” she said plaintively, “I think Steffen just wants a chance to try me out first. Am I wrong, dear Steffen? Ah!”
“Damn straight. Ah. Your pussy is wet as can be.”
Steffen’s fingertips tickled the edges of her labia, staying just this close from her hot button. Willow sucked in air through her teeth and shivered on her tiptoes. She noticed she was clutching poor Steffen’s shoulders so tightly she could have drawn blood.
But his murmur was cool, collected. “What got you so hot, my little minx? Was it maybe watching me slide this other man’s prick down my throat?”
Willow shimmied her hips from side to side, hoping to catch his fingertip on her clit. “Maybe,” she admitted, suddenly shy.
“You’re as wet as a fisherman’s slipper.”
Ah. There. Godammit. Willow hissed in air when his finger brushed her quivering clit.
Amadeo took exception to Steffen’s words. “That’s not a pretty picture, Steffen. How’s about she’s as wet as a swordfish.”
Willow felt one of the balls pop inside her pussy. They weren’t very big, and she wondered how they would stay inside her. Maybe that was the secret—she would have to keep flexing those muscles or a ball would roll out onto the floor in the middle of trying to talk to a contractor.
Pressing his torso to her from behind, Amadeo slid his hands up to support her breasts. The shirred bodice didn’t do much to cradle their weight, and immediately Amadeo was pinching her nipples, sending more electrical shocks darting into her pussy, centering on her clit. She was surprised that Steffen “allowed” Amadeo to fondle her tits, but he was occupied elsewhere.
The balls were connected by a string, and Steffen inserted the second one. Now he diddled at her clitoris more vigorously, and his intent was plain. Bastard. He’s going to make me come. I’ll be completely dependent on him if I want to come again. Like Pavlov’s dogs. I’ll keep coming back for more. I’ll get wet when just thinking about him and his talented—
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” Willow heard someone crying out, surprised to discover it was herself. Amadeo had slid the spaghetti straps of her slinky dress down, baring her tits for both men to see. When he pinched her bare nipples the sudden stimulation sent arrows right through her clit. Between Amadeo’s tweaking and Steffen’s diddling her slippery clit, she was instantly on the verge of orgasm.
“That’s right,” Steffen encouraged her. “Take your time. Fall right into it. We’re here to catch you. Good girl. Let Amadeo play with your nipples. Take a bite, Amadeo. Her tits are so luscious and full and—”
One enormous flutter of her entire canal, and Willow’s pelvis was wrenched with a blissful spasm. When Amadeo’s teeth clamped around her right nipple, everything crashed in around her. Wave after exquisite wave rolled through her cunt, gripping her uterus with a powerful hand. She knew she was shaking and shuddering like a fool, but Steffen encouraged it.
“Good. Good girl. Let it come. Come for us, baby. Come for us.”
It seemed to go on forever, Amadeo’s teeth nibbling away, Steffen twiddling her clit, slower and slower as the contractions ebbed. Willow came to, finding herself twitching and gulping air like a child trying to hold in a sob. Gasping, she pressed on Amadeo’s forehead, forcibly removing him from her tit. It was too much. Too, too much!
The men even chuckled as she detached herself! She smoothed down her dress and replaced her tit in the bodice. “Enough already!” she protested. She shimmied her hips to ensure the Ben Wa balls were still inside her canal. “Gads! You two men are going to be the death of me!”
She tried to stalk with dignity into Cesar’s bathroom, but Amadeo was laughing. “Good thing those aren’t the kind of balls that jingle.”
Steffen was laughing, too. “I wonder what the purpose of the chimes is.”
“I guess so you can hear the gal coming,” suggested Amadeo. “Like a cat scaring away the birds.”
Willow slammed the bathroom door. Good riddance! Men. So arrogant. So full of themselves. So certain of their own success.
However, she couldn’t deny that the men had succeeded. She was hopelessly smitten with both of them. Steffen had been right—Amadeo was her “type.” How did Steffen already know her type? He seemed to already know her so well it was frightening.
She had to get back to the contractor surfacing her swimming pool, but she recalled many items she had wanted to discuss with the men. The two men who had just given her the biggest, most outrageous orgasm of her life.
“Hey, guys,” she said as she exited the bathroom. “We need to start moving this equipment into the—oh, hello.”
A worker was standing in Cesar’s room eyeballing the spanking bench. She recognized the guy as a laborer for Chas White, the amazing vanishing contractor. She needed to speak to Chas, and apparently Amadeo did, too, because he was now telling the worker,
“Tell Chas to call Amadeo Barbieri over at the Lone Palm Ranch. Tell him the building inspector put a stop work order on my tack room and I’m not pleased with his work.”
“No shit,” the African-American worker agreed. “I’ve worked for Chas for two years and have seen him maybe a handful of times. I hate to say that about a boss of mine, but it’s the truth. He’s as rare as a sincere fart in church.”
“Where does he go the whole day?” Willow asked.
“Well, it’s a matter of great speculation among us workers. I really shouldn’t speculate in front of clients, but he does leave us holding the bag most of the time. Let’s just say, he’s an aficionado of tennis.”
Willow didn’t understand, but her two men seemed to. “Ah,” said Amadeo knowingly. “All right, then. Thanks, Carl. I can probably find him over at the Racquet Club myself.”
Carl turned to leave. He pointed back over his shoulder. “And he probably likes that bench, too.”
Willow said, “Tell him to call Willow Paige, too! Well, that was weird. Listen, guys. I was trying to tell you about Ronnie Dobbs way back when I first came in. I talked to Jaclyn’s boyfriend, Fernando.”
“I’m familiar with him,” said Steffen. “He does a lot of work around town.”
“He does?” Willow was surprised that Fernando was actually known for work. “Anyway, Ronnie Dobbs is currently incarcerated at the county jail. He was arrested playing air guitar on the arm of that giant T. Rex statue alongside the highway, so he won’t be harassing me for a few days at least.”
Steffen nodded. “He has a Beaumont address, so he was probably on his way back home when he got arrested. He was just playing air guitar? Doesn’t sound like much of a reason to arrest a guy, even The Most Arrested Man in the Coachella Valley. I’m going to put a BOLO out on his truck, make sure he gets stopped if he’s anywhere within a ten-mile radius of the Searchlight Motel.”
Willow said, “Well, obviously the air guitar wasn’t the whole thing. Apparently Ronnie tried to run from the cops who were yelling at him from one of those megaphones. But he fell down and started flailing around, so the cops easily arrested him.”
Amadeo chuckled. “Sounds like a major character.”
“Oh, he is,” Steffen assured him. “He came sniffing around here looking for some artifact, but he was so creepy I scared him off. Why was he flailing around, did they figure out?”
“Well,” said Willow. “Apparently he’d been snorting some fire ants to celebrate some Wizard of Oz thing. The ants bit his trachea and it swelled up, so he had trouble breathing. Then he claimed police brutality.”
“Oh, he always does that,” said Steffen. “You should see his police record. In between the arrests, it’s one long incident of ‘police brutality.’ I wonder what The Wizard of Oz has to do with fire ants.”
Willow clapped her hands together. “That was it! Ozzfest! How’d you know? What is Ozzfest?”
Amadeo said, “There’s an urban legend that Ozzy Osbourne—he’s some heavy metal guy—snorted fire ants. What a moron. Everyone knows you can’t snort fire ants. They haven’t held an Ozzfest since 2010.”
“Says the guy who knows.” Steffen chided him good-naturedly. “Must be your experience in the Unbearable Rightness of Swing.”
Willow giggled. “Well, Ronnie is off the streets for awhile anyway. I don’t think we have anything to fear from him. He’s just a high goofball.”
“And wife-beater,” Steffen told Amadeo.
“What?” Amadeo puffed up to greater proportions when angry. “Let’s get this BOLO out on this guy, Steffen. I’ve got more than a few friends down at County.”
“Same here,” said Steffen. “Let’s go down in person, if we can’t find Chas White first. Listen, Willow, my little sunset palomino.” His reference to her motel’s former business reminded Willow that she hadn’t told Steffen about the “menu” she had found. But he seemed in a rush to depart with Amadeo. “Keep those balls in, my little filly. We’ll be back tonight to take you to dinner. Right, Amadeo?”
“But of course,” agreed Amadeo.
Willow liked being a “little filly” so much she didn’t mind when the men left for the County. She dove back into her remodeling work with gusto. She was reminded with every step that she took of the two men who had given her the gift of the amazing orgasm. For some reason they seemed as though they wanted to date her—seriously date her. It had been so long since she had noticed anyone make a pass at her, Willow was entirely skeptical. But the two balls rolling against each other inside of her told her otherwise.
Chapter Eight
“I actually admire it.”
Steffen turned to Amadeo. He was pleasantly surprised to hear the rancher utter such a sentiment about the house that seemed made mostly of wall-to-ceiling glass wrapped around a few giant boulders. Horizontal planes resting upon horizontal planes seemed suspended in space over the invisible walls. The Kupka Desert House was probably Steffen’s favorite example of Desert Modern in the entire valley, designed by his idol, Neutra. Outdoor rooms were protected from desert sandstorms by vertical windscreens that could be moved about. Just like in Willow’s Searchlight Motel, breezeways connected wings. It was probably the most famous private residence in the valley, but the trio had to view it from a nearby bluff at the foot of Mount San Jacinto. There were no tours.
Steffen said, “But you’ve lived here your whole life and told me you never admired this style.”
Amadeo tilted his head thoughtfully. “I think when you’re used to seeing a certain thing, you wind up not appreciating it much.”
“Take it for granted,” added Willow. “Like I take the Everglades for granted because that’s all I ever knew. I came out here and was so stunned by the beauty of the desert. I always thought it was one empty expanse, but there’s so much to see.”
This was their second official date. Two nights ago the three had done the dinner and dancing thing in Palm Springs. They hadn’t seen each other yesterday due to some building inspecting, ranching, and remodeling business, and it was just hell on Steffen. He realized how quickly he had bonded with both of the others. Of course it was Willow who entranced him, but Steffen was shocked to realize he missed Amadeo, too, that entire endlessly long day he spent without them.
He had started his alternately dominant/submissive relationship with the buff rancher as a tease to lure in Willow. He knew it would turn Willow on to watch the two men making love to each other. He had been correct about that—and then some—but what surprised Steffen the most was how well they all got along without making love. They had dined and danced the night away without so much as a hot kiss between each other, so Steffen knew it wasn’t just a flash in the pan fling. The men had dropped Willow off at the Searchlight Motel after dancing and had gone their separate ways.
All day yesterday, inspecting electrical upgrades and checking site plans, Steffen had been distracted by thoughts of Amadeo as well as Willow. What was going on? Amadeo was supposed to be a lure, a toy, a tease. Steffen had never entertained lusty thoughts about another man. Suddenly he found himself reminiscing about the tasty blow job he had given the strapping cowboy—not just the one he’d received. At the hetero dance club they had taken turns giving Willow spins around the floor, but Steffen had spent almost as much time admiring Amadeo’s ass as Willow’s.
“Oh, the desert is fascinating,” Steffen agreed with Willow. “When my dad told me we were moving here from Ireland, I was all about rebelling. Kicking walls, yelling, protesting. To go from the rolling green hills to the…well, the flat empty expanse of desert was the biggest injustice, I thought.”
“Didn’t stop you from becoming the quarterback,” Amadeo groused.
Steffen grinned. He would never stop lording it over Amadeo about having been on the football team while Amadeo slunk around being alienated and angst-filled. Especially since now Amadeo had bloomed into such a powerful, dominant rancher, it was one of the only areas where Steffen could lord it over him. “Wait until you’re here in the spring, Willow. Of course first you notice the California fan palms. But even now in June, look at the grass and scrub.”
“I can vouch for that,” said Amadeo. He had to ride through it every day.
Steffen continued. “And these ocotillo. Or look at that group of palms, growing right out of that solid rock.”
Today they had toured the iconic space-age gas station and Elvis’s Honeymoon Hideaway and driven through the Twin Palms Estates of mid-century tract houses. Now in the early evening hours they were getting as close to the famed Kupka House as possible. As a board member of the Palm Springs Modern Committee, Steffen had been lucky enough to have been inside the house several times, but not today. They had to walk around the perimeter and view what they could of the glass pavilion, the pinwheel design of the famous house.
Steffen said like a tour guide, “See that corner of the house? Those palms were already growing out of those rocks, so they built around it.”
Willow hiked up the bluff a bit to get a better view, the two men trailing her. Amadeo asked Steffen, “So you rebelled against your dad?”
“Oh, not too heavily. We got along fairly well until he died of cancer five years ago. It was just the usual teenaged insubordination. I used to deal with your dad when I’d go out to inspect stuff on your ranch. How’s he doing?”
Amadeo snorted. “Dying of cancer.”
Steffen frowned. “You don’t seem too…”
“Sensitive about it? I’m not.” They had reached where Willow stood, and she looked at them with mild curiosity. Amadeo crossed his arms in front of his barrel chest. Steffen now knew he did that when he wanted to regain some feeling of authority or control. Amadeo looked out at the desert. “My father was an asshole. You probably didn’t notice that part of him.”
Oh, Steffen had noticed it all right. Salvatore Barbieri was an irascible old coot, constantly bitching and challenging Steffen’s observations. Salvatore had always done things up to building code, in his own mind. Steffen was always wrong—Mr. Barbieri was always right. “I did get that impression, yeah.”
“So when I turned eighteen I left the ranch. I moved into the city where I lived a sort of dissipated life and—don’t laugh—worked in a music store.”
Willow laughed anyway. At least she covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just can’t see you with long hair, being a grunge hippie.”
Amadeo smiled good-naturedly. “But I was. I just lived a party lifestyle throughout my twenties, rebelling against my father’s iron-fisted command. I started experimenting with men just to rebel but found out I liked it. I’ve probably been bi my entire life.”
Willow took Amadeo’s arm and held it close to her boso
m. “Well, I’m certainly glad. It’s working out perfectly for us. How did you come to inherit the ranch, then?”
“Well, that was a strange situation. When I was thirty—eight years ago—it became obvious my dad couldn’t manage the ranch anymore. So he finally sends someone to find me, after not having contacted me in ten years. Suddenly when he needed a ranch manager, someone to carry on in his name, I was needed. So spitefully, I told him I had a bunch of boyfriends. Jee-zus. Near about gave him a heart attack on top of his cancer, now that I look back on it. You know how arrogant and selfish twenty-somethings can be.”
“And thirty-somethings. Crap,” Willow said in commiseration. She stroked Amadeo’s admirable, hairless chest. He wore only a tight wifebeater T-shirt, but his olive Italian skin could take the heat. Steffen had to cover up with a button-down shirt. “So how did you wind up with the ranch? He’s still alive, right?”
“Well, eventually he called me back into his hospital room. He said he still wasn’t cool with all my nancy-boy shenanigans but he figured I’d get over it eventually, it was just a phase. I tried telling him I was never ‘getting over it’ because I actually liked it, but by that time the lawyer was already handing me the deed to the ranch, so to speak. See, there was one tiny detail my father couldn’t overlook. I’m the only son.”
“Ah,” said Steffen. He’d had to deal with a lot of property ownership issues in his career. It was interesting how men from the old country could suddenly easily overlook major “transgressions” if a man was his only son. That trumped all sorts of perversions, apparently. “It’s the Italian thing.”
“Exactly,” said Amadeo. “He’d rather give the ranch to a twisted, deviant son than his daughter who is a married flight attendant with two kids.”
Steffen said, “Well, with all due respect, I’d have to say you deserved the ranch. You’re doing a great job from what I can see, aside from the Chas White-built tack room.”
“Yes,” agreed Willow, although she’d never seen Amadeo’s ranch. She took his chin in her fingers and forced him to look her in the eyes. He was over a foot taller than her, and they looked like a fairy tale couple. “Amadeo, you’re doing a fantastic job. You must understand. Your father is old school. He is never going to accept that you’re bisexual.”
The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 8
