by Ember Cole
He pushes a finger inside my folds, which are still warm and sensitive from my climax.
“Ah, perfect,” he says, rubbing the slickness all over his fingers. “Just what I need.”
I bury my face in the pillow, my hands clenched into fists. The friction of his fingers activates the warming gel inside me again. My skin is hypersensitive, and each stroke builds the pressure and heat within me all over again.
Holy shit. I’m going to come again. Twice in under four minutes. The twins weren’t joking about their sexual prowess.
Then Greyson moves off me. “Up,” he says, tugging at my hips until my knees are under me, but my face is still buried in the pillow.
“Beautiful,” he says, palming my ass. “I can’t wait to make this mine.”
“Against the rules,” Memphis says. “No penile penetration. And you’re down to forty-five seconds.”
“I’m on it,” he says. He strokes my pussy, putting pressure on my clit before inserting his thumb between my folds. I groan into the pillow, feeling empty and needy and wanting more. So much more.
“If you think that feels good, just wait,” Greyson says. His finger, still wet with my juices and the warming gel, circles my asshole.
I tense up, not sure this is something I really want. I’m afraid of the pain that must surely come with anal play.
“Relax,” Greyson says, and I try to obey. “That’s it.”
He uses his thumb to tease my folds, activating the gel again. I let myself sink into the mattress, enjoying the warm, pleasant heat growing there.
Then I feel the first intrusion, his fingertip breaching the tight circle of my ass.
“Breathe,” he says. “It’ll totally be worth, it, I swear.”
I blow out a breath.
“Yes,” he says approvingly, and pushes his finger in a little more. It slides past the ring of muscles there, causing a wholly new sensation, not at all unpleasant.
“How does that feel?” he asks, withdrawing the finger slightly.
“Good,” I say. “Different.”
“Thirty seconds,” Memphis calls out.
“Hold on,” Greyson warns. “You’re about to come like you’ve never come before.”
Then he moves both digits in tandem, the one stroking my pussy and the one in my ass. The combination of sensations, the dual friction, steals my breath away. I clench hard on both, almost there.
He thrusts harder, pressing deeper into both openings, squeezing his thumb and finger together like he’s trying to feel one with the other. It’s too much. It’s not enough. On a scream, I spiral over the edge of the abyss, bucking against his hand.
“Holy fuck, that’s hot,” Memphis says.
Greyson growls. “Fuck yes, Amelie. Give it to me.”
The orgasm goes on forever. At least, it feels that way. He brings me down slowly, and as my body shudders one last time, I hear the timer ding.
I melt into the bed, feeling light-headed and breathless. Greyson’s hand disappears. His clever, talented hand.
“Now imagine it’s two dicks filling you up instead of my hand,” Greyson purrs. “Memphis filling your pussy and me filling your ass.”
“She can’t imagine it, shithead. She’s a virgin. She doesn’t know what one dick feels like, let alone two.”
“She will when we finally get to take her,” Greyson says, stroking my back, trailing his fingers over my ass.
I flop onto my back, sweaty and sticky now. Two of them. At the same time. Both penetrating me. I can’t even imagine, but I have a feeling I’ll be spending a good part of the day trying.
“God, I need to come,” Memphis groans, adjusting himself.
I have an idea. A naughty idea, but one I’d like to try. I sit up on the bed. “I can help with that.”
He stares at me, blinking.
I lick my lips, making it clear what I have in mind.
“Fuck, yeah,” he says, and immediately comes to stand in front of me.
“You, too,” I say to Greyson.
Greyson scrambles to his feet and stands next to his brother. Sitting on the edge of the bed puts their dicks at the perfect height for savoring.
“Off,” I demand, indicating their boxer briefs.
“Just so you know,” Memphis says. “We’ve never done this bareback.”
Greyson shakes his head. “We always suit up for battle. We can for you, too, if you want?”
“No. I want to taste you. Both of you.”
As one, they strip, and it’s then that I notice they are completely hairless.
Greyson shrugs. “We like a clean pussy. Only fair to reciprocate.”
The lack of hair makes their dicks look huge. Or maybe it’s not the lack of hair—maybe they’re just huge.
I take them both in my fists. “Where to start…”
Stroking them slowly, I’m satisfied by their groans and soft curses.
Then I lean in and take Greyson in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the fat head of his cock, sucking away the salty drop of moisture already there.
Not wanting Memphis to feel left out, I turn my head, releasing Greyson and taking Memphis into my mouth.
He’s staring down at me. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls. “Your hands wrapped around Grey with my dick between your lips. Fuck.”
Greyson sways on his feet.
“This isn’t going to take long,” he warns. “I’m almost there already.”
I move back to Greyson and work him with my mouth, sliding him along my tongue like I learned to do with Jesse. At the same time, I stroke Memphis a little faster. I want them to come together.
I move back to Memphis, sucking him deep. His fingers tangle in my hair almost painfully, and I swallow. He seems to like that, because he groans, and that only adds to my pleasure.
Greyson takes over stroking himself. “You’ve got her mouth,” he grounds out, quickening his pace. “I want to see my come dripping down her face.”
This shouldn’t be sexy, but it is. I want Greyson to come on me while I’m sucking his brother off.
Memphis thrusts hard and deep, deeper than I’d taken Jesse. His massive cock chokes me, but I keep going, wanting more.
Finally, Greyson stiffens, and warmth splashes on my cheek and lips.
“Fucking unbelievable,” Memphis moans. He shoves himself even deeper and holds me there while he pulses in my mouth, his salty come sliding right down my throat.
When the last drop is gone, I pull away and look up at my twin lovers.
“Yeah, just as hot as I thought she’d be,” Greyson says. “Fuck, I think I’m getting hard again just looking at her with my come all over her face.”
Memphis flops onto the bed beside me. “You’ve killed me, woman.”
“Me, too,” Greyson says, flopping down on my other side.
“Me, three,” I say, lying back, wedged in between them.
I suspect the two of them are dozing when they don’t reply, but I can’t do the same. I have a big decision to make. And soon. In the morning, I will choose the man to be my first lover. I have no idea who it’s going to be.
12
VANCE
It’s obvious that even after just two days at Broken Creek, Amelie is at home here. She spent the day shadowing the guys as they went about ranch work. Feeding the livestock, cleaning out stalls, mending fences, and a hundred other tasks that ranch life requires. I would never have thought a pampered princess like Hank Carter’s daughter would stand for it, but not only is she tolerating it, she seems to enjoy it.
Her hair is wild around her face, her nose and cheeks a little pink with sunburn, and she’s laughing. She hardly resembles the highly made-up, well-groomed woman in the pictures with the governor’s son. She looks like she belongs here. She acts like she belongs here. But she doesn’t. The sooner my brothers realize that, the better. The closer they get to her, the harder it’s going to be for them when she goes.
I finish
the last bit of my steak and wipe my mouth on my napkin.
As I scoot my chair out, Amelie turns away from Reed, who has been telling her a funny story about a guy from his unit in Iraq, and looks at me. “Are you coming to movie night?”
Her upturned face is hopeful and young and way too innocent. “Movie night?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m going to grab a shower after dinner and get into some comfy clothes, then we’re all going to watch a movie in the rec room.”
She waits for my answer, and when I simply stare at her, her warm, open smile fades just a little. “No chick flicks, I promise. Something with explosions.” Her gaze never leaves mine. “Will you come?”
My gut clenches. Why does this woman make me feel like I want to give her anything she asks for? Protect her? Keep her with me always?
Not good.
“Maybe,” I say. Then I stare down my brothers. “Make sure the evening chores are done beforehand.”
“We’re not kids anymore, Vance,” Reed says. “We know that there are chores. We do them every single night.”
I nod and head out to the barn, leaving my brothers and Amelie to finish eating.
Normally that statement from Reed would have been punctuated with clenched fists and red face, the possibility of exploding into a profanity-laden tirade real. He’s a year younger than Jesse, two years younger than me, but for whatever reason, he’s always felt like he’s had to fight me for the alpha position. But tonight, he seems relaxed. The chip on his shoulder seems to have lightened a bit.
I lose myself in my last few chores of the day, then head back to the house, eager for a shower, too. I’ve pushed myself hard the past two days, finding work to be done around the ranch that I’ve been meaning to do for months, or even years. Busywork, some of it. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know the reason. It’s been to avoid Amelie and all the emotions she stirs up inside me.
She’s all I’ve thought about since that night in the library. Some of my thoughts have been about her father and how he’s likely going to kill one or more of us when he finds out where his precious little girl has been living. Never mind what he’ll do if any of us actually fuck her—an eventuality that grows by the hour. But mostly I’ve been obsessed with thoughts of Amelie herself. And how impossible it is to avoid thinking about her being part of my life in a permanent way.
Meals have been torture. She’s obviously bonded with my brothers. I shove that to the back of my mind where I don’t have to examine it too closely, because I wonder if there’s been more between them. They all look at her like she’s the queen of their worlds. They laugh and joke and tease one another like she’s known them for years. And they want her. All of them. That’s obvious. And a big fucking problem, even if I did want to do something to try to keep her here. Family comes first. Always.
I walk down the hall toward my room, separated from hers by the guest bathroom. I hear the shower running, and instantly I’m imaging her naked and wet with steam rising all around her.
Fuck.
My shower is going to have to be ice cold if I’m going to make it through movie night with her. Or maybe I should just skip it and go to bed. Or hang out in the woodshop. Working with my hands always calms my mind. Even during the darkest days after we buried Mom and Dad and I thought we were going to lose the ranch, spending time sawing and carving and sanding wood, whether it was a figure I’d whittled or a piece of furniture, always made my mind calmer and more focused.
I strip off my shirt and kick off my boots, then head into my bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, but it doesn’t erase the image of a nude Amelie on the other side of the wall.
Since the two bathrooms share a wall, I hear it when her shower turns off. She’s singing something I don’t recognize. Then I hear a soft curse and the sound of her door opening.
A minute later, there’s a knock at my door.
“Vance? You there?”
Shit.
For a split second, I consider ignoring her, but I’m out of the bathroom and to the door before I can stop myself.
I find her standing the hallway, a towel wrapped around her wet body. Her hair is slicked back and dripping on the floor. It reminds me a lot of the first time I saw her.
I stare. Can’t help it.
“Hey. I was wondering if there are some extra towels. I need one for my hair.”
She’s looking at me, too, and I realize all I’m wearing is a pair of Levi’s.
I swallow hard, trying to focus. Towels. Right.
“Linen closet is right there,” I say, pointing to a small door across the hall.
Damn, she smells good. Like strawberries and vanilla. Good enough to eat.
“I checked there. All out, I guess.”
The guest services staff is gone, including the woman who took care of the towels and linens. I forgot about that.
“I have a clean one in my bathroom,” I say. “Hang on a sec.”
I hustle into my bathroom to grab the towel. When I come out, she’s in my room looking around, a smile playing at her lips.
“What?” I ask, handing her the towel.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s just that this room is so you.”
I glance around, trying to see what she sees. White paint, gray curtains. My king-size bed made up with a black comforter next to a nightstand and lamp. A dresser I’d made myself stands in the corner, my wallet, change, watch, phone, and small, framed pictures of Mom and Dad on top. The walls are mostly bare except for a flat-screen TV mounted across from the bed.
I look back at Amelie and raise an eyebrow. “What is it you think you’ve learned about me? That I like things clean and simple?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Congratulations.”
Her smile fades, and I feel like an ass. Well, more of an ass. I’ve been an ass since she first set foot in the house.
“What is your problem?” she asks, all traces of smile gone now. “You don’t want me here. I get that. I’ll be out of your hair within a day or two. But do you have to be so rude all the time?”
I shove a hand through my hair. She doesn’t get it. She can’t see that it’s all a defense mechanism. Because if I allow myself to get too close, it’ll hurt that much more when she’s gone.
“Well?” she asks, glaring at me. “Do you regret kissing me that night? Is that it?”
“No.” My jaw is clenched so hard my teeth ache.
“Then what?”
Fuck. I know I’ll regret this.
“I want you,” I say, meeting her eyes. I let all the desire I’ve been trying to hide show on my features and in my eyes. “I want to touch you. I want to taste you. I want to be inside you when you come apart.” I move closer, trying to dominate her, trying to scare her away, because I’m hanging on by a fucking thread. A thread that’s about to snap. She’s too tempting, and I want her too much. Scaring her off is the only thing that will save her now.
But she doesn’t run away. Instead, she tips her chin up, meeting my gaze.
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Fuck. Me.
“Amelie, you don’t understand. You’re too—”
“I swear to God if you say I’m too young and innocent for you one more time, I’ll scream.”
She advances on me and pokes a finger into my chest. “You don’t get to decide who I am and what I want. I know what I want.” She stares up at me, her green eyes narrowed and as hard as emeralds. “I don’t know why you think you’re such a monster—why you’re going out of your way to prove that you are. But you’re not, Vance. You’re a man who loves his family. A man who took care of them when they needed you. You’re a man who took a shit situation and turned it around. You’re a man the others look up to, even if they won’t always admit it.”
It’s uncomfortable being under her gaze, hearing these things. On some level, she’s right. I know she is. But it’s too much. Easier to be the monster and keep people at a distance.
“You won’t let
anyone close, Vance, and that’s your choice. But don’t go putting all your baggage between us so that you can preserve some sort of bullshit indifference. You want me just as much as I want you. I know you do. So—”
That’s as far as I let her go. I attack her, crushing her against my body. I’m so tired of trying to resist her. So tired of denying that I want her desperately, more than I’ve ever wanted another woman. It doesn’t matter that I’m too old for her, too hard, too low-class.
My mouth crashes down on hers. Hard. Demanding. Honest.
Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers tugging at my hair. I hold her face in my hands, angling her to get at her mouth the way I want to.
I’m hard. Instantly. She’s soft and warm and smells amazing. She fits in my arms perfectly, all her soft curves molding to my hard planes.
I back her toward the door to my bedroom and slam it shut. Then I press her up against it, grinding into her.
“Vance,” she gasps, resting her head against the door. She’s breathing hard, her skin flushed pink.
I have to see her. Just this once. I rip the towel away, leaving her completely bared.
God, she’s glorious. Full round breasts, the nipples pink and erect. Slender, she still has curves, her waist dipping in, accentuating the smooth, feminine flare of her hips. Legs, long for her stature, slim and curvy and sprinkled with a few freckles. Her pussy, framed by an auburn rectangle of neatly trimmed hair.
“Touch me,” she says. “I trust you.”
My chest swells with her words, a weird sense of pride, even though I want to touch her in places she’s never been touched and hear her scream my name when I bury myself balls-deep inside her.
I can’t. I shouldn’t. I might not be able to stop.
There are a million and one reasons I should walk out of here right now.
None of them matter.
Amelie is right. I want her. She wants me. It’s just that simple.
Bodies collide. I press her into the door, consciously trying to slow down, to pace myself. She’s a goddamn virgin and no matter how much I want her, I don’t want to hurt or scare her. I thread my fingers through her hair while trailing the other hand down her neck to her beautiful breasts. Cupping her in my hand, I squeeze gently, then roll the nipple between my thumb and finger.
