“Oh, Victor,” she said in that girlish voice that drove him insane with desire.
He had her in his arms fully now, her breasts mashed to him as he took the erect nipple into his mouth and flicked his tongue across it. She gasped and twitched and he wasted no time in rimming the swollen lips of her pussy with his fingertips. What a delicious honeypot. He finally understood the meaning of that term when he felt her syrupy juice drip over his fingers. She was just as hot for him, he was gratified to know. And he didn’t care how evil he was being by forcing Ian to watch them rut.
Abruptly getting to his knees on the couch, he yanked Felicity to her knees, too. He squeezed her close to him with his arm around her waist, the tips of their noses touching. He’d never seen her eyes so moist and wide—and he’d especially never seen her demeanor so submissive, so acquiescent. Could it be that she was learning how to switch, too?
“Victor, darling,” she gasped, “you make me feel like such a woman.”
His prick was up between her creamy thighs, and he could have easily speared her right then and there, pinning her to the couch with the power of his hips. However, noticing Ian gaping at the sight of Victor crushing Felicity’s tits to his chest, a tiny flag of altruism waved at the edges of his conscience.
Poor Ian. All alone and lonely.
He yanked Ian onto the couch behind Felicity. He shoved Ian back so his head nearly hit the cushioned couch arm, but Ian went willingly, just a floppy scarecrow doing Victor’s bidding.
“Baby,” Victor whispered, his lips brushing Felicity’s. “I’m not going to last long, but you’re going to have a mind-blowing orgasm.”
He gave her one last sucking kiss, then turned her so she faced Ian, straddling him. Victor’s cock slid inside her easily. She was like a buttered glove, nearly sucking his cock inside her. He groaned deeply, holding himself inside with his cockhead nudged up against her womb. Slowly, inch by inch with every slight thrust of his hips, he lowered Felicity until her pussy hovered right over Ian’s face. Not a slouch in the pussy-licking department, Ian dove right in.
“Oh, God!” Felicity cried out. But Victor could feel that she wasted no time in shuddering her hips to maximize the friction of her clit against Ian’s tongue. Dear, obedient Ian lapped away like a thirsty cat. A knot of jealousy in Victor’s stomach threatened to overwhelm him. Ian was giving Felicity pleasure. But he swiftly realized—they were both giving the sultry tigress pleasure. Two men from either end, both giving her a separate but equal bliss. There was nothing to be jealous of here.
Victor’s prediction had been correct. Thirty, sixty, ninety seconds of rocking Felicity’s hourglass figure back and forth on his cock, and Victor was spewing his load.
His explosion must have triggered Felicity as well, for within seconds of his first blast, she was holding her breath, every muscle in her body on high alert, tense. Then her pussy clamped down around his prick in the first of dozens of contractions, orgasmic spasms. They rocked together, locked in an intensely heightened state of arousal. Every gasp, every twitch, every brush of a fingertip was like an earthquake. Victor was buried so far inside Felicity he spurted against her womb.
Ian, who had been lapping at her clitoris in a frenzy, slowed his rhythm. Now, as Felicity twitched and shuddered against his mouth, he lapped with a lighter touch. Victor remembered all too well being drenched with the tigress’s sweet juices. Every nerve ending in her clit would be on fire by now, and every tiny movement counted. Ian seemed to know this, and he now lapped like a satisfied kitten, with tiny, delicate licks.
Felicity jumped and nearly elbowed Victor when he dared to finger her nipple. “Oh! You bastard!” She shook him off her back and stood, her back to the couch. She was adjusting the triangles of leopard skin, adjusting the thong that had disappeared in her butt crack when Victor had so ruthlessly mounted her. He lounged back on the couch, dazed.
Felicity cast him a grateful look, then scurried off to the bathroom.
“Well,” Victor sighed, “appears it’s time for a shot of scotch. Care to join me?”
“Certainly.”
Victor stuffed his cock back into his camo pants as he approached the wet bar. Of course Ian would drink some scotch. He was British. He started to hand Ian his tumbler with two fingers of amber booze, but on impulse he kissed his friend instead. He was really starting to like this, treating Ian as though he were just a second woman. He could make out with Ian, shove his cock down Ian’s throat, he could probably even mount Ian and fuck him like a woman. He felt affection for the man now as he kissed him. He was turning out to be a useful and intelligent partner in arms, as well. He had acted smartly and efficiently during the whole Todd Beard operation.
Victor licked Ian’s lower lip. “Her pussy tastes sweet, doesn’t it?” he asked slyly. Now he handed Ian the glass, so he could burn the taste of pussy from his mouth.
Ian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Oh. You would know that, would you?”
Of course, it was too much to ask that the two men wouldn’t compete with each other. Of course they would! They were two full-blooded men reeking of testosterone. It was healthy that they compete with each other. “Yes, I’d know that, Ian. Ah! There you are!”
“Talking about me?” Thankfully, Felicity still sported the triangular pieces of leopard fabric on top of her nipples, although she had pulled on her sky blue sweat pants that made her ass look so enticing.
Victor put his arm around her shoulders. He didn’t have to hide that he was looking down at the outstanding shelf of her bosom. One didn’t have to hide much with Felicity. She was an experienced, worldly woman. There were no false pretenses here. “Of course. We both just gave you a powerful orgasm.”
“Oh, my.” Putting her hand on her chest, Felicity pretended to swoon. But the truth was not so far off. “You men are amazing. I didn’t know that I could come so strongly. My vibrator gives me a completely different sort of orgasm.”
“And other men?” Victor prompted, egotistically.
“Other men?” Felicity looked Victor square in the face, hand on hip. “What other men? Dr. Reznik, I haven’t dallied with another man since my dear husband passed. Everyone thinks because I worked at a bondage club I constantly dallied. But it’s different at the club. You’re indulging a kink which isn’t necessarily a sexual expression of anything. And I certainly never came, for God’s sake. You think I’d let those men toy with me? That’s not what we were there for. Mistress Klara doled out the punishment the men were craving, that’s all. That might be sexual, but oftentimes it isn’t. Klara was a sensual sadist, skilled in the art of building a man to orgasm but not allowing him to come. Or not,” she added mysteriously with a twinkle in her eye.
Victor noted that she spoke of Klara in the past tense. “But you made Ian come during your first play session.”
“Yes. Because I’m fond of Ian.”
Ian pointed out, “And she did torture me a lot beforehand. It was explosive by the time she allowed it.”
Victor’s brain was flooded with new ideas, things he’d love to try on Felicity. But he had a more pressing matter. “I’m sorry, baby, that I didn’t ask beforehand what sort of birth control you prefer.”
Felicity shrugged. “I’ve had an IUD implanted in me for quite a while. I wasn’t planning on boinking my head off—it just helps with menstrual cramping and the pain of endometriosis, which I have. But that’s sweet of you to ask, even if it’s too late.”
“Yeah, better late than never,” Ian teased.
Victor glowered at his friend. “You didn’t ask, either.”
But thinking about her IUD seemed to be making Felicity blue, for she drifted to a tall window and stared out. The snowy landscape of Prism Canyon was washed in a watercolor of ocean blue, as the sun had set, but distinct shapes of snowy pinnacles could still be seen. Victor stood close behind Felicity, but not too close, in case she wanted to be alone.
“What are you thinking?” He asked what women a
lways asked. They loved that question.
Felicity tossed her head in his direction to acknowledge his presence. Her voice was distant. “How scared I am. I tend to push men away when I start to feel affection for them. I wasn’t entirely honest when I said I’d had no men since my husband. I did feel affection for one or two of the men who came to the club. But I went to Europe in the first place to bury my grief, so it was counter-productive to fall for anyone there. I arranged it so they never came to the club again.”
“I think I can relate,” Victor said tentatively. “I feel like I ruined my first marriage with my workaholism, so I’m afraid of being close to anyone again.”
Felicity finally looked at him. “We’re both mangled wrecks, refugees from love.”
Victor wrapped an arm around her torso, gluing his chest to her back so they could both look out at the blue spires. “Love is a frightening thing. Of course I love my son, but I feel like a lousy father even though I send money. They live in Green River, but of course I feel like I don’t see him enough.”
Felicity shrugged. “You travel a lot for your job. It’s not your fault. Should you want to be less successful? Hey. Maybe we could just agree not to fall in love with each other?”
Victor was insulted. He already knew he was hopelessly in love with Felicity McQueen. She was the first woman who had affected him this strongly since his acrimonious divorce from Judith. But she seemed to be basically telling him she would never fall in love with him. Yet her proposal had sound merit. “Hm. If we’re going to have a fling, what with you living here at the Triple Play, we could agree to keep it light.”
“Exactly!” cried Felicity happily. “I would love to have you come visit me here just for a play session. You’re the perfect play partner, Victor. I want to experience so much with you. It’s fun watching you learn to switch, to submit.”
“That’ll be the day,” Victor grumped.
The doorbell rang then, and Felicity sprinted off to the bathroom to find her sweater. Ian let the ski suited Sol Greenspan inside. Sol stood stiffly, all puffy like the Michelin Man with one arm out at a right angle to his body. “Express mail for Miss McQueen. Where is she?”
Victor took the cardboard box and put it on a dining room chair. “In the bathroom. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Sol whipped off his gaily-colored knit cap. “All right, Dr. Reznik. What kind of fool do you take me for? First class? I know you’re taking advantage of Miss McQueen’s proclivities, and using her for your own selfish ends. As the lawyer for the McQueen family, I am here to tell you I won’t stand for it.”
Victor was surprised that Ian stepped in. “As the lawyer for the McQueen family, Mr. Greenspan should be highly grateful that someone of such top-flight moral amplitude has taken an interest in Miss McQueen.”
Miss McQueen herself appeared, clad properly now. “Good, you brought my box from Stockholm. Hey, I know how protective you are of us girls, but you have nothing to fear from Victor. He’s a doctor!”
Sol looked Victor up and down sideways. “Yeah. A cow doctor.”
Felicity corrected the lawyer. “An exotic animal specialist. And we’re currently waiting on lab results so we can nail that asshole who is transporting exotic species all over the west. If Victor nails that fucktard, you won’t be having to chase ostriches around the property anymore.”
That reminded Victor—his phone had dinged several times while he’d been fucking Felicity. He should stay on top of his texts since he was waiting on lab results. He slipped his phone from the pocket of his coat hanging over a chair back.
Sol was saying, “Yeah. The day I start chasing monkeys around the Triple Play is the day I go back to Provo—permanently. I’ve got other clients there, you know!”
“I’m sure you do,” said Felicity, unconvincingly.
This is good. This is good. One text from his lab said his feather and fur samples from the back of Beard’s truck had shown positive for ostrich, hyena, and lemur. And the syringe Ian had snagged tested positive for M-99—etorphine hydrochloride, powerful enough to immobilize a lion. There would be no reason for a hunter to use M-99. The only purpose for the controlled substance was to sedate large animals for transport. Now they could go and simply arrest Beard, then search his residence.
But Sol was saying, “You’re invited to the restaurant to meet up with Sasha and everyone. Leif is preparing beef from the ranch with foie gras and parsley sauce.”
Ian was already putting on his jacket. “Are they having those wild rice waffles again?”
Sol stuck out his lower lip. “Who said you were invited?”
Felicity interrupted. “Of course he’s invited, Sol. He’s Rowan’s best friend in Washington.”
“Oh, Lord have mercy.” Sol swatted his own forehead with his knit cap. “Do you know what’s going on up at the lodge? What sort of twisted, deranged convention they’re putting on now? There are men hobbling around on high heels, drag queens insisting I call them Judy or Barbra! Why do we keep hosting these conventions that make the bathrooms so confusing? This sort of thing would never go on back in Provo!”
Victor was helping Felicity on with her coat. She said soothingly, “I think it adds color and excitement, Sol. I’m glad Cass is open-minded in booking conventions.”
“I’ll go to Hollywood if I want color or excitement!”
“They have female impersonators in Hollywood too, Sol,” Ian pointed out.
But Sol was dead set on his rant. “What next—some guy asks me for clear nail polish to fix the run in his stocking? That sort of stuff needs to stay in the women’s room with the women. I’m telling you—the day I have to carry a man because he fainted from the vapors or his corset was too tight is the day I retire! I’m out of here—vámonos! Sayonara! See you later! This is enough craziness for one lifetime!”
Chapter Thirteen
Ian was honestly afraid Todd Beard might come after Felicity.
It was apparent he would figure out she was the one who stole the drugs from his coffee table. She also reported that Beard had somehow known that a Marilyn impersonator from the lodge had given her the pearl choker. Given his penchant for bra- and thong-wearing, it wasn’t a stretch that Beard might lurk around the lodge and see Felicity, try to get his drugs back.
Of course they had a BOLO out for Beard and his truck, but given the square mileage that every lone county policeman had to cover, it was a long shot anyone would see him. Victor and Perry Donovan had been by Beard’s house to arrest him. Armed with a warrant based upon the lab results showing Beard as having been in possession of the escaped ostrich, they had found no one home. They had staked out the house for six hours but had returned to the lodge empty-handed.
And now Ian feared for Felicity’s safety. That was probably behind his decision to ask Rowan to track down some archery bows for them to practice with. Rowan had found some in Doug Ostrovsky’s cattle ranch tack room. One was a compound bow, which Ian estimated was calibrated to draw at fifty pounds, and the others were plain wooden recurve bows. Felicity now hefted one of the recurves, aiming at a stump they’d set up on the grounds of Two In The Bush, Brooke and Adrian’s chalet on the rim of Prism Canyon. Rowan had found a paper target of a masked robber, and at twenty yards Felicity was consistently nailing him in the eyeball.
She made a stunning huntress. She even wore green tights and a long bulky red sweater that didn’t do a good job of covering her curvaceous ass. Ian also shot at the robber with the compound bow, but it was much more compelling watching Felicity take down the bandit.
She lowered her bow, squinting at the target. “Too bad we can’t just wander around with bows and arrows in our quivers. Then we could shoot Todd Beard if we see him.”
Ian agreed that it was frustrating not to be armed. Someone had rumored that Beard had also been known to rape or otherwise molest women, and this didn’t fill Ian with confidence. Ian was sorry they had ever involved Felicity in the exotic smuggling operation. “Well
, we’ve got Victor and Rowan, who are licensed to carry.”
Rowan added, “And Adrian and Nathan, if it comes down to it.”
Felicity looked sideways at her future brother-in-law. “I’m not going to rely on a few guys who are busy preparing for a wedding.” She turned back to her target and nocked an arrow onto her bowstring.
Ian wandered around to stand near Rowan. “Her club in Stockholm is named The Fat Shaft,” Ian said. He was taking a chance bringing up Felicity’s bondage club. No one was supposed to mention it, and it now appeared to be a thing of her past, since she had agreed to move to Utah. But Ian wanted to see how Rowan reacted. After all, he had practically been in love with Rowan for years now. It would make sense he would want to goad Rowan into jealousy.
It worked. “Yes. Sasha was swearing up and down The Fat Shaft was an indoor archery range and we were completely misjudging her sister. You’re a lucky man, Ian. Felicity is beautiful, intelligent, feisty…all the things the McQueen sisters specialize in.”
“I sometimes think she specializes in busting my balls.” Ian hadn’t meant to admit that, but Rowan smiled.
“They all do. It’ll all even out once you’ve spent more time with her.”
“Well, it’s an awful shame that I won’t have more time with her. Having to go back to DC after your wedding and all.”
Now Rowan frowned. “Back to DC? You mean to wrap up things with Hawkeye?”
Ian was confused. “Wrap up things? I’m just going back to my regular, boring existence.” In fact, his regular, boring existence had been irking Ian badly of late. He wanted to strangle his regular, boring existence into extinction. How could he go back to his sterile profit and loss statements after having had an orgasm forced from him by Mistress Felicity? How would he ever be satisfied with extending tax deadlines now that he’d had his penis sucked by Dr. Victor Reznik? “Without you there, I guess I’ll shoot archery with George Cadwalader.”
Two Sirs, with Love [McQueen Was My Valley 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 12
