Love Under Two Introverts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “Do you want us to act out your fantasies, darlin’? You know that here, in this place we’re making for the three of us, there’s nothing that’s off-limits, nothing you can’t ask us for.”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know…yet?” Clay stroked her chin with a finger.

  When she met his gaze, he said, “We’re still new to each other. Opening yourself up like that infers a very deep level of trust. We’re not there, yet.”

  “When we are, Tasha, you just ask us. When you can trust us that much, you ask us for whatever you want, whatever you need.” Gord kissed her shoulder, and then lifted his fingers from her pussy, but kept his other ones on her anus. He moved subtly, and she felt his cock sliding between her pussy lips.

  He thrust into her in one quick push. Tasha gasped, and sighed, and then pushed back.

  “God, I could almost feel that by looking in your eyes.” Clay cupped her cheek. “Kiss me, Tasha. I need to taste your pleasure.”

  Tasha surrendered once more—to the pleasure, yes, but mostly to these men. Opening her mouth, she sucked in Clay’s tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself over to the kiss. At the same time, she moved her hips, returning Gord’s thrusts. She felt connected to them both, but needed more. So she let her left hand encircle Clay’s neck. With her right hand, she reached behind her to Gord and used her fingers to grasp his hip.

  Thoughts quieted as her body moved, reveling in the loving Gord and Clay lavished on her. Only the moment mattered, only the need to give and take in equal measure. Arousal spiraled and soared, and rapture beckoned. Shivers coursed through her, and her clit tingled. She needed more, and shamelessly begged, her whimper wordless yet eloquent. She used her inner muscles to send a rippling caress down Gord’s cock shaft.

  Gord bit her shoulder. “Your cunt feels so damn good. When you squeeze me like that, you push me so close to the edge. Go over for us, Tasha. Come for us.”

  Oh, she wanted to! She thrust back with her hips, pushing Gord’s cock even deeper inside her. At the same time, she sucked on Clay’s tongue, drawing on it as if it were his cock she had in her mouth, instead of his tongue.

  Clay squeezed her breast, and pulled her nipple. She moaned, and felt his smile in their kiss.

  His hand left her breast and traveled down her body to her pussy. His fingers circled the top of her slit, drawing her clit to them like a magnet. He brushed the sensitized nub once, then twice. Then he grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed, treating her clit to the same kind of relentless pressure he’d used earlier on her nipples.

  Then Gord pressed his finger against her anus with a steady, firm push, and his finger breached her sphincter and slid into her ass.

  Tasha’s mouth released Clay’s as her climax exploded, and her scream of pleasure and satisfaction echoed off the bedroom walls. Gord thrust his cock in hard and held it deep. She felt the spasms of his ejaculation, and the heat of his cum made her orgasm crest anew.

  Tasha didn’t pass out, but it was a near thing. Tiny little spasms of pleasure made her quiver with remembered ecstasy. There had been something more than just the physical within that orgasm. She inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma of the three of them and the love they’d made.

  With her head resting on Clay’s chest under his chin, and Gord pressed close behind her, Tasha felt warm, cosseted, and complete. She sighed and then grinned when she felt Gord’s smile bloom on her back.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I, darlin’? I lost control a little at the end, there.”

  “No, you didn’t hurt me, and I loved that you lost control.” She bent her neck back so she could see him, and he placed a sweet kiss on her lips. Tasha laid her head back on Clay’s chest. Gord slowly withdrew his finger from her anus and his cock from her pussy. He adjusted himself upward so that his cock rested against her bottom. She wiggled her ass against his semi-erect cock.

  Gord ran his hand down her side, and then caressed back and forth over her hip. “You’re one hell of a woman, Natasha Garwood.”

  “What do you say we have a shower and then soak in the hot tub?” Clay asked. He eased up so that he was looking down at her. He looked over her shoulder at Gord, and then met her gaze again.

  There was a Jacuzzi in the master bathroom, and another out on deck, just a few feet away. She knew which tub she wanted to try out. “Can we try the one out on the deck?”

  “We can do whatever you like,” Gord said. “It’s a nice night, and we’re private here. No one would see us even in broad daylight out there.”

  “I’ve wanted to try that tub,” Tasha confessed. “It’s sheer decadence.”

  Clay got to his feet and then offered her a hand. “We can make it even more so. We have some Chablis in the tiny bar fridge out there. So let’s go and be totally decadent.”

  Tasha loved the look of peace on Clay’s face. She didn’t see it often enough to suit her. “Yes,” she said, “let’s do just that.”

  They didn’t linger in the shower, but Gord and Clay both gave her their full attention, not only bathing her but washing her hair. Of course, she made sure to get her soap-covered hands on them, too. There was just something fun about communal bathing—something fun and relaxing and intimate—beyond making love.

  They used towels just enough that they didn’t drip their way from the bathroom to the deck. The evening air was cool, but not cold. Steam rose from the Jacuzzi. Tasha wondered about those hearty folks up north who used their outdoor Jacuzzis in the wintertime.

  She and Gord slid into the tub. Clay took a moment to pour them all some wine, then brought the tray over. Once he’d served them he slipped into the bubbling froth himself. His heartfelt sigh put a smile on her face.

  “Y’all have these up there in the frozen north?” She grinned as she asked that question, her drawl a little heavier than normal. Clay’s eyes sparkled with humor.

  “Wine, or hot tubs?” he asked.

  “I know you have wine, because a friend brought me back a bottle of ice wine made in some place called Niagara-on-the-Lake. I believe that’s in Ontario.”

  “It is and I’ve been there many times. And yes, we have hot tubs, too.”

  “Outside? In the snow?” Gord pinned his friend with a disbelieving look.

  “Outside and in the snow. It’s not bad if you have the tub situated close to your back door. You wear your robe out to it, and as long as you’re mostly under the water it’s a nice experience. But I know of one person who slipped on the ice and broke her collarbone in her rush to get back inside.”

  “Ouch. I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to go outside in the really cold weather—the kind of cold you get up there.”

  “Hey, I was here in January and those temperatures we had were almost identical to the ones we were usually blessed with up north in winter. The only thing missing was the two feet of snow.”

  “I reckon it made you all teary-eyed with nostalgia,” Gord said, “that day the mercury dropped to eighteen.”

  “Smart-ass.” Clay took a drink of his wine. “In the summer, our temperatures hit the triple digits, too. A lot of people who have hot tubs in their backyards either have them filled with cool water for the summer months—or drain them, cover them, and use them as giant beer coolers during parties.”

  Gord nodded. “I always figured there wasn’t a whole lot of distance between us, culturally. Now I know it’s true.”

  “Probably why I’m not having as much trouble as I thought I would acclimating.”

  Tasha had spent her entire life in the state of Texas. Oh, she’d traveled to Virginia Beach for a vacation once, and she’d also gone to San Francisco and a few other places. But for the most part, her growing up, her family and friends, and her history were all right here.

  “I guess it must have been a daunting prospect for you, moving your family here.”

  “Not as much as you might think. I earn my money online, and the tim
es when I have had to actually meet face-to-face with clients was so small, that at least I didn’t have to worry how I’d earn my way. There are some things we left behind that were hard. The kids and I discussed it and while Shaun wasn’t eager for the move—after all he had all these ‘cool’ new friends—in the end it was a family decision. There have been the occasional hiccups, but for the most part, I think it was a good move for us to make.”

  Tasha would have bought that all was going well in Clay’s world, but the sigh he gave just then told another story.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t think he was going to answer her but then he set his glass down on the tub’s ledge.

  “Probably nothing,” he said. “But I got this strange e-mail yesterday.” Then he shook his head. “Strange isn’t the right word. Threatening? I can’t even say it was that, and yet my gut tells me it was.”

  Gord set his own glass down. “Tell us.”

  Tasha’s jaw dropped as Clay repeated—verbatim, he said—the contents of the disturbing, unsigned message.

  “What a horrible thing for someone to do! How could anyone think, even for a moment…?” She didn’t have words to finish the thought.

  “That sure as hell sounds threatening to me. You need to call Adam,” Gord said.

  Clay exhaled heavily as if something they’d said—or everything they’d said, had relieved him. “I did call Adam, and then worried that I was being an alarmist. He brought Jake over and the two of them decided to call in Connor Talbot. Apparently the man is a minor god when it comes to electronics and the Internet.” Clay shook his head. “I really wondered if my reaction was just knee-jerk.”

  “There have been enough things that have happened to enough people in the last few years around here,” Gord said. “That I can tell you without a doubt, you weren’t being an alarmist. The Town Trust takes the security of everyone in Lusty very seriously.”

  Clay picked up his glass again. “That’s what Jake said.” He met Gord’s gaze, and then Tasha’s. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

  “I’m glad you told us. As for the mood?” Tasha set her glass down and then reached under the water. She grinned, because Clay’s eyes crossed when she fisted his cock. “Why don’t you have another drink, honey, and we’ll see what we can do about the mood.”

  “God!” Clay lay back, closed his eyes, and took a good healthy sip from his glass. “I think you’re a miracle worker.”

  “No. I’m just a woman who knows how to get what she wants.” And what she wanted, almost desperately, was to knock thoughts of that nasty e-mail right out of Clay’s mind.

  Chapter 13

  Blair read the missive over and over, looking for some sort of secret code, some sort of embedded message of a personal, intimate nature—and found none.

  Clayton always opened his e-mails with a bit of social chat, with tidbits of personal news and insights. He always asked how Blair was doing, and added in some little anecdote about himself and even the children.

  Over the last couple of years Blair had fallen in love with Clayton’s wonderful children through these communications. And though Clay had never said in so many words, it was clear from his e-mails that his wife hadn’t been much of a mother to them, or wife to him.

  Blair had been restrained yet enthusiastic in every reply penned to the man, letting Clayton know his children sounded engaging, and absolutely delightful. Blair had even told Clayton that his wife was a very lucky woman to have him and those children.

  Other times, they had exchanged thoughts and ideas about oh, so many things! They’d shared their thoughts about movies and current events, as well as different restaurants in the city. Blair shared with Clayton a love for Italian food and a good steak. They’d even engaged in a few very superficial political and religious discussions. Those last had been timid forays to be certain, and that was fine.

  Blair had understood that they were getting to know each other—as any couple might when taking those first, subtle steps in a relationship.

  But this time, there was nothing like that at all. This e-mail was practically brusque. Clayton had worked up a proposal for the updates to the website, and sent them along in a very short, unsatisfying businesslike letter.

  And that was that.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have called…or sent that other note. Though I didn’t sign it—but still, he must have known it was from me. Maybe I’ve made him angry, and he’s punishing me.

  Blair didn’t want to make Clayton angry. But the time had come to let him know what was what. Especially after that phone call.

  Blair had heard the tone in that man—that Gord’s—voice. Something had been going on, there. There’d been soft, romantic music playing in the background. And since when could Clayton not take a call? Clearly, this Gord had been there with him. The sound of amusement in the man’s voice led Blair to believe that Clayton had been too busy to talk on the phone.

  Too busy doing what?

  Something had been very, very wrong.

  If anyone should be angry, it’s me. I’ve waited so long for Clayton. And now, what? He’s too busy to take my call? Too busy with a new lover, perhaps? Is that what Clayton had been doing while Gord answered the phone for him?

  It was the only thing that made sense. Blair’s instincts began screaming—screaming for action. Screaming for justice.

  Blair didn’t need any more evidence or proof to know the truth. Clayton was stepping out on Blair and that could not, would not, be tolerated.

  Blair knew what needed to happen next. Clayton needed to receive another e-mail, this one being just a bit more specific as to what Clayton could expect if he continued to treat Blair in such a shabby fashion.

  I really need to be there. He needs to see me, face-to-face. I need to tell him how I feel about him, and remind him what we are to each other. Then he and I and his children can begin our lives together.

  That was what needed to happen next. Blair looked around. The house could be sold, furniture put into storage. But that would take time, and Blair had the sudden insight that time was of the essence.

  Blair had business obligations, but like Clayton, could work from anywhere. The beauty of an online business meant the kind of freedom unheard of in decades past.

  Blair nodded, decision made. It was the right decision, too. Excitement caused Blair to actually giggle out loud.

  I don’t need to plan to list the house or even close it up for long. Once Clayton and I see each other—once he understands the way things are going to be—then everything will be good. We can come back here for our wedding and honeymoon, and I can tie up loose ends then.

  Blair looked at the clock hanging on the office wall. It’s still morning. I bet I can organize, pack, and be on the road by tomorrow. There were a few things that had to be done in order to prepare for such a long drive as a trip to Texas. Blair pulled out a pad of paper and made a list. First up was pinning down Clayton’s exact location. For that, a visit to Tommy Burris was in order. Surely by now, Tommy had the information Blair needed. There wasn’t much Tommy didn’t know how to do when it came to computers and cell phones. Blair would enter Clayton’s location into the car’s GPS. He had mentioned in an e-mail that he would be living in a very small town.

  Tommy had said, the other day on the phone, that it likely wouldn’t take too much effort on his part at all to find Clayton. I really hope he has found that Gord person for me, too. Blair smiled. Yes, asking Tommy to find Gord Jessop as well as Clayton had been a good idea. Perhaps Gord would be able to answer a few questions. Blair nodded. Next, a trip to the bank for US funds, and then an oil change for the car. A conscientious car owner didn’t contemplate such a long drive without having an oil change, first. Blair was a very conscientious car owner.

  Tomorrow, first light, would be soon enough to begin the drive to Texas.

  I’ll stop in at some point along the way at a public library, or an Int
ernet café, someplace that has computers for public use. Or maybe I’ll just buy a new little laptop. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. One of those pretty little mini things. A pink one! I’ll send my second message to Clayton on my pretty pink mini. And I will let him know that I love, him, but that I mean business.

  Blair would consider, during tomorrow’s drive, whether or not to let the man know they’d actually be face-to-face soon. It was a question of weighing the benefit of anticipation versus the benefit of surprise.

  If I can catch Clayton in a compromising situation, then that would certainly strengthen my case. He’ll be anxious to make amends.

  Yes, surprise was definitely the way for Blair to go.

  * * * *

  “Hey, ump! You need glasses!”

  Clay covered his mouth so he didn’t laugh out loud. The “ump” in question—Clay’s uncle, Caleb Benedict—stood up from his squatted position behind home plate and pointed a finger at his heckler. In this case the heckler was Tasha, who’d protested, along with a lot of folks, his ruling that Shaun was “out” at the plate.

  He had to agree with her and the others who’d chosen to protest the call. Shaun had indeed made it home “safe.”

  “Well jeez!” Tasha harrumphed and then sat down in her seat next to Clay. “Shaun was safe, everyone could see that!”

  Samantha Kendall, who was sitting in the next row up from them in the mid-sized spectator stands at the high school ball diamond, laughed. “He most certainly was—unless you factor in the age and size rule.”

  Tasha turned to look at the older woman. “The what rule?”

  Samantha nodded. “My brother-in-law, Northrop, who founded the Saturday afternoon baseball league here in Lusty, added a few extra rules to the game.”

  “The main one being, if you’re bigger and older against the person tagging you out, you’re automatically out—whether you are or not.” Henry Kendall sat beside Gord. He didn’t sound too happy about that rule, either.