by Zoey Marcel
He thrust the bendable dildo back and forth in her bottom until her anal ring loosened just enough that pain was absent from the hard strokes. Her bowels heated with the taboo friction and swallowed the filling tool.
“It feels too good. I can’t take any more.”
“If you want me to stop, then you must come for me.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She yelped when he slapped her bottom.
“No, Melanie. I’m serious. I want you to come hard all over my fingers after you throw the condom away and clean my cock off.”
Mellie let his deflating prick slip from her and pulled the used condom off.
“Just wrap it in a tissue. I’ll throw it away.”
She obeyed and reached for another tissue.
“Use your mouth,” he ordered in a scintillating tone. “And respond to my orders.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Her body responded to the command. She bent over his lap and began licking his shaft clean while he fucked her ass with the dildo. The filling shoves stretched and owned her, demanded she pay attention to the unnatural direction they were hell-bent on going.
She took his sated cock into her mouth and sucked every last drop of cum that lingered there.
“Straddle my torso.”
She climbed back onto him, biting back a siege of moans at the continued thrusts in her rectum and sphincter. His hooked finger grazed her bulging clit and sent pleasure zinging through her. A few tender brushes of the back of his forefinger were all it took to set her off again. An unrestrained cry of passion emerged from her as she came hard around the unstoppable toy and Diego’s marvelous finger. Her stomach muscles clenched and her body convulsed hard like she was being shaken for answers.
Liquid desire spilled from her cunt onto his body, but he seemed elated by it. He eased the dildo out of her asshole, causing her to jolt and cry out softly. She heard the sound of something making contact with wood and assumed he set the pretend penis on his nightstand.
Lust and surrender spread through her like a forest fire when he pulled her body down against his and forced her to lie in her own juices that she soaked him with. It made her feel woozy and submissive to be commanded to clean his genitals off with her mouth and then be made to lie in a pool of her own arousal simply because it pleased him.
“That was amazing, Melanie.” He kissed her head and feathered his fingertips over her back, inducing violent shivers. “You did very well. I’m proud of you.”
She snuggled closer to him, somehow grateful for his praise as she would have been if she’d spent the night with Hunter, Jake, or Emmett. “Thank you, Sir.”
“I’m looking forward to training you and spending more time with you,” Diego murmured into her hair.
“I’m looking forward to it, too, Sir.”
She figured calling him Sir now was probably silly since their scene was over and she was about to leave his room to go shower and then get started on dinner. However, he didn’t correct her use of his title and encourage her to call him by his name like Emmett had when he had finished doing a scene with her. She didn’t know if Diego was just flying too high to tell her to use his name now that the session was over or if there was another reason for it.
Chapter Three
Greyson stood near the barbeque watching the meat grill. He could barely remember what type of meat he was grilling. He kept thinking about Melanie. Damn her. He’d come in earlier from working outside and saw her leaving Diego’s room. The door closed behind her in a controlled motion as though someone had been standing on the other side and shut it after she left. He didn’t see anyone else leave after her, which meant Diego had slept with her on his own.
The sizzling slabs of meat barely registered to his preoccupied brain. There were lines on them. Lines were good. He recalled leaving beautiful lines on past submissives, the ones who’d been able to handle pain anyway.
Melanie had let him spank her the other day as punishment for leaving his room in disarray after putting his laundry away and dusting. It had surprised the hell out of him that she’d accepted her penalty willingly, eagerly almost. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she was a masochist trying to get her pain fix as inconspicuously as possible. Like she could fool him.
Of course a lot of people liked spanking. Time would tell if she truly craved pain, had simply been horny, or had only been trying to appease her boss with her cooperation.
He wanted to beat her ass for seducing his best friend. Nagging confusion and a brutal feeling he didn’t want to label kept clawing at him to either punch Diego in the face or offer the man his ass and take him away from Melanie.
It shouldn’t hurt this bad. He shouldn’t be so pissed, and damn it, aroused despite his inner turmoil. He and his closest friend had no understanding or official relationship. They were two men scratching an itch, and Diego trying to keep him grounded by satisfying Greyson’s fear obsession without him having to accidentally get himself killed by going the road alone.
Still, damn the bisexual asshole.
And damn Melanie for jumping everyone’s bones. She came off so good and quiet, so sweet and shy. It was an alluring act he couldn’t resist, but he wasn’t about to throw his brains out the window for a woman, much less a man.
Damn the pain.
The sun hung lower in the sky now. It wasn’t quite sunset, more the lazy late afternoon glow of the burning orb sinking lower on the horizon while still bathing the land in a decent amount of light.
He stiffened when the sound of cowboy boots falling steadily on the wooden deck alerted him to the man who filled them before Greyson even saw his face. His chest seized with an inconvenient emotion and his heartbeat skipped a little. Curse the damned sentimental organ clouding his judgment. It irritated him. Everybody irritated him today…more so than normal.
Diego moseyed over, looking carefree and not the least bit regretful of his licentious actions. The dirty bastard.
God, he looked hot.
Quit lusting after the dirtbag, you moron!
“Smells good,” Diego drawled in that melodic voice that made his nuts harden with almost painful awareness.
Greyson wanted to bite out something caustic or some sarcastic reply, but he had nothing. The man looked too good, and he had a shitload of raging feelings waging their war of confusion on him from within.
Diego stood near him, flooding Greyson’s senses with his hypnotic cologne and the natural essence of his skin. He smelled woodsy and like vanilla with an unidentifiable scent thrown in that was addictive and one hundred percent man.
“I fucked Melanie earlier.” Diego leaned back against the side of the log house with his hands in his jeans pockets.
Greyson refrained from tensing or conveying any kind of shock he shouldn’t even be feeling. “Good for you. Wear your rubber. The maid gets around.”
“Don’t you want to know what I did to her?”
His jaw tightened and he grasped the flipper scooper whatever-the-fuck-it-was spatula harder. “I’m on the edge of my fucking seat.”
Diego grinned and then lowered his mesmerizing tone to a steamy hush. “She rode me while I had a dildo shoved up her ass and mine. Can you see it, amigo?”
He could, but he could also see himself smacking the man in the face with the greasy metal turner thing. “I thought you were intent on keeping things out of your ass.”
Diego stood right next to him now, dizzying his senses with want and pissing him off. “I never said that. I said when you submit to me completely then you may have my ass. Aside from toys and a woman’s fingers, it has never been penetrated. I saved it for you, lover.”
Greyson shivered and became hot when the man whispered the words into his ear and stood directly behind him. Diego dared to wrap his arms around him in broad daylight and on the blasted deck where any idiot could just walk the hell out there and see them like that.
Brilliant.
“Get your hands off me befo
re someone comes out and sees us,” Greyson admonished.
“I do not care what anyone thinks.”
“I gathered as much.”
Diego let go of him and gave him a peculiar look, one that suggested he’d picked up on Greyson’s unspoken thoughts. The cowboy’s features softened. “I thought about you while I was with her.”
“It’s good to know women make you think of me.”
He smirked and stepped closer. “I meant that I fantasized about what it would be like to have you there with us. I would even let you be in my ass if you would only give Melanie a chance.”
Greyson’s stomach muscles contracted when Diego started to grope his ass through his jeans.
“You would like her, you know. She is very submissive and she handles pain well.”
“A lot of people like spankings.”
Diego cocked a half smile that conveyed no signs of defeat. “Are you saying I need to indulge in heavier impact play with her and leave marks on her lovely ass to convince you of her enjoyment in pain?”
Greyson’s dick hardened like a bolt that had been screwed in to capacity and couldn’t tighten any more. “If you want to be with her, be with her. See if I care.”
Diego’s swarthy eyes were filled with knowledge—too much stinkin’ knowledge. “You do care.”
Greyson’s heart skipped a beat and then slammed hard in his chest. He flipped the meaty slabs on the grill, trying to act tough and indifferent. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Diego’s hand smoothed over his back, soothing him through his shirt. The ranch hand’s pitch came out mellow, but the enticing quality was unmistakable. “All you have to do is open up to me, Greyson. Admit your feelings for me and let me penetrate you.”
Tremors of primitive instinct slithered through him. He had to swallow at his best friend’s nearness and the way Diego grabbed his ass with an elephant’s level of subtlety.
“Give me everything, lover. You know it belongs to me.”
Greyson quivered at the masculine whisper fanning searing heat against his ear. His cock pulsed and hurt like a bitch as it extended toward his barricaded fly in a weak-willed attempt to give the other man what he wanted. Even his anus tingled with awakening nerves that didn’t seem to understand that he was a straight man who had just gotten a little confused for a few years. Make that the past twenty-three years if he counted their mutual masturbation at eighteen, but that was entirely beside the point.
Heavy footsteps clopped lazily on their way out the sliding glass door. Greyson shoved Diego away in a sudden panic, knowing by the sound of the footfalls that his father had come out onto the deck. Fortunately Diego was out of arm’s reach of Greyson when his father came into view.
Greyson almost felt guilty for pushing the poor guy away, but his pseudo-regret was short-lived.
Herschel O’Neil inhaled a deep, exaggerated breath, or maybe his old lungs required ridiculously deep breaths. Personally Greyson wouldn’t put it past the old timer to draw attention to himself in an attempt to butter him up. As if he was that easy.
“Look at that view,” Herschel said through a boisterous exhale. “Now that’s a lake.”
“Well, done,” Greyson quipped.
He wished upon all things holy that Diego would stop staring at him like a rabid dog eying a bone. Did the man have no concept of secrecy?
Herschel chuckled. “Are you still mad at your old man for taking a little vacation away from his family?”
“Try deserting your family.”
“Perspective is everything.”
Herschel walked toward the railing that was made of thinner logs and scanned the sunlit lake with some kind of old person contentment that Greyson sometimes caught himself falling into. Not that he found anything wrong with gratitude, but for most of his younger life he’d been busy and chasing thrills.
Now that he was forty-one like Diego, Greyson could appreciate the way the wind swept over the grasslands like a green or golden sea depending on the season. He liked to sit and watch the lake, too, particularly at sunset and sunrise. The vast surface of deep blue seemed to stretch almost as far as the prairie itself.
Diego’s eyes burned into him like acid until Greyson stole a peek at the risky freak. That was just what he needed—to have his father see Diego making eyes at him or Greyson’s hard-on.
Oh shit, he’d forgotten about his Diego-crazy dick. Hopefully the old man hadn’t noticed.
The scorching look in Diego’s eyes was pure sin. It was a compelling mixture of frustration, lust, and a jurisdiction that he found deeply arousing. Where his hired hand got off trying to dominate him, Greyson was sure he didn’t know. Diego was more like family anyway rather than a ranch hand, given that the man had lived with them for over a couple of decades.
Greyson faltered beneath the heated leer and averted his gaze. That trenchant look was too much. The ache was too much. He was grateful as hell when the alpha cowboy turned on his heel and left.
Herschel’s gruff old voice snapped him out of his confused daze. “You and Emmett weren’t getting along. It had to be done.”
“Now we’re the best of friends. Great plan, Herschel.”
The weathered cowboy smiled and took to seating himself in a cushioned chair with a slight grunt and then a comfortable exhale. “You’ll get there. Even Hunter’s taken a liking to that Melanie sweetheart. He believes she’s the one.”
Greyson was too distracted to engage in any sort of profound discussion.
“I think you should give her a chance, son. She seems like the type that’s right up your alley.”
“You don’t know a damned thing about my alley.”
“No, I reckon a lot’s changed since I’ve been away.”
What the hell did that mean? Was Herschel onto him? Was the whole world onto his secret?
Relax, dumbass. They know nothing. You’re just being paranoid.
“You can stop pretending to care in the name of obtaining grandchildren.”
Herschel smiled some kind of paternal smile that strongly implied affection. Weird how the old man supposedly felt some kind of warm, fuzzy bond with him when they’d always had their differences.
“I’m indifferent toward the concept of grandchildren, Greyson. I only want to see you happy. You’ve been miserable for too long. You’re only happy when Diego’s around.”
Greyson dropped the metal flipper and then scrambled to pick it up.
“You okay there, son?”
“Yeah, the meat’s hot. I’ll get another one.” He almost collided with Melanie when she walked out onto the deck with two platters. “Get a metal scooper. The meat’s done.”
Her brows furrowed and then straightened when she saw the utensil he handed her. “Okay. I brought you out a plate for the cooked meat, and this one is the raw meat for you to cook next.”
He set the platter down, hand shaking uncontrollably. “Thanks.”
She took the contaminated tool back into the house and went to get a clean one for him.
Greyson turned his back to his father, regretting that Melanie had worsened the confounded snake between his thighs. The look in Herschel’s eyes when Greyson caught it before turning had seemed insightful, disturbingly so. Hopefully he only imagined it.
“As I was saying…” Herschel began.
Oh good, they were back there again.
“I think it’s swell that you have such a good friend in Diego, but you need a woman in your life so you don’t end up alone like your old man.”
The only part of that sentence that fully stood out to Greyson was “you need a woman in your life.”
Was that his father’s subtle way of trying to tell him to straighten his act up and forsake his infatuation with Diego? He wanted to believe that Herschel was clueless, but when he glimpsed the aged man’s face, his blue eyes were searching and he had that familiar expression that said he was mulling things over.
It had to be his imagination. The mind had a way of
distorting things when fear or paranoia was involved. A lot like watching a murder mystery and thinking every damned character was a suspect.
“Maybe I want to die alone.” The words tasted acrid in his mouth.
“No, you don’t. Imagine the harmony with your brothers if you all had the same wife.”
He snorted. “More like the bloodbath. For a man who refused to share the love of his life with two other men she claimed to love, you sure do have a lot of gall trying to plow me into a polygamous marriage.”
Herschel didn’t say anything.
Now he felt like a bastard. Greyson heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”
The old man smiled. “Don’t apologize for something I passed onto you.” He leaned back in his seat, countenance swimming in a far-off place. “Lena was something, wasn’t she?”
“I never met her. I wasn’t born.” Greyson made sure to keep the snark out of his tone. His father had been through a lot.
“It was a rhetorical question. I was young and in love. In spite of the McKenna Downs tradition, I didn’t want to share her. None of us did.”
Greyson knew what was coming—another trip into the past from his father’s mouth. He never understood why older people repeated stories so much, but sometimes he wondered if it was because younger people didn’t always listen like they should and needed to have stuff drilled into their heads so they would remember.
He had to admit some sentimental part of him liked hearing stories about his dad’s youth. It was a time long before he was born and there were moments when it fascinated him to hear about how the world was before he arrived in it.
“She was…” Herschel shook his head and glanced down at his hand. “I don’t blame Alan McAlister and Hart Huntington for fighting me and each other so hard to have her.”
“You were smart to back off from her in the name of preserving your friendships, unlike the two of them ruining their friendship over her. I always admired that about you.” Greyson handed the platter to Melanie and took the scooper from her. “Thanks.”
