Carter, Beth D. - Lawless Hearts (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Unknown

  They sat for a while like that, just listening to the brook and the wind swishing through the trees. The sky was a clear blue with fluffy white clouds scattered about. The day was peaceful after the horrendous storm of the day before. Memories danced in and out of her thoughts, images of the night before, and a blush stole over her cheeks.

  “Can I ask you a question about Cassidy?” she asked. He nodded. “Does he have a problem?”

  “Problem?”

  “You know, last night. He didn’t…well, he just didn’t.”

  “Engage in the sex? Cass likes to be in control.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “But he likes women, right?”

  Garrett laughed. “Yes,” he said through his chuckles. “Most definitely. But he likes watching more than being a direct participant when there are three of us.”

  “Does he watch often?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes he likes to go off by himself with a woman.”

  “Is it always like that? You know, what happened between us. I felt…”

  Her voice died off because she simply couldn’t describe the feeling that had overwhelmed her. She had felt like the world had shifted on its axis and she had fallen off it.

  “I know,” Garrett said softly. “And no, finding someone who makes you feel like that is almost impossible. Don’t get me wrong, sex for the sake of sex is great. It feels wonderful. But when a connection is made, it makes everything else fade in comparison. Any other woman, or man, drains away. Forgotten.”

  She bit her lower lip with her white teeth. “But two of you and one of me doesn’t really bode well for a connection, does it?”

  “Honey, we’ve had a connection since before we met.”

  Scharlie cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  “Whether or not you think we were just fooling around, well, that simply wasn’t so.” His hand moved into her hair and pulled her head back until her throat was open and exposed. He pressed his lips to the tender skin. “I would dream of you, Scharlie. Surrounded by red lotus and peony flowers, draped in red-and-gold silk. We would love, laugh, become one.” He kissed his way to the shell of her ear. “I want you, more now since I’ve tasted you.”

  “Here?” she asked, almost breathless. “In the daylight?”

  “Exposed.” He moved her body until her legs straddled his hips. “I want to bury into you while the heavens watch, while the Jade Emperor gives his blessing. Now, oh, right now, Scharlie.”

  He brought her head up and crashed his lips against hers. He kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth while he traced the contours of her face with his fingers. Scharlie felt something deep inside explode with excitement. He wrapped her legs around his waist tightly as she meshed her fingers in his hair. She met his kiss with equal ferocity, a woman suddenly born with a need she never realized existed before. The ache inside intensified, grew, spreading throughout her whole body and making her hips gyrate against his.

  His fingers pulled at her shirt, all finesse gone. She helped him as much as possible without breaking apart their lips, anxious to feel his hands on her breasts. As he found her nipples, tweaking them, she smuggled her hands inside his shirt, popping a button free. His chest was smooth to the touch, muscular, and she delighted in the wicked sensation of touching each other as a cool breeze wafted over them.

  The sounds of nature were all around. The bubble of the brook, the call of birds, even the rough-hewn texture of the tree bark behind them, all of it intensified the rawness of their passion. When touching and kissing weren’t enough, they quickly moved clothing around until Garrett’s cock stood tall and free, dripping with need. Scharlie had read things in the book she could do with her mouth, but right now she wanted to feel him inside her, to feel that huge hardness sliding in, filling her, making her complete.

  Moving her skirt aside, Garrett slid one finger over her clit, teasing it, before sailing into her pussy. He started a rhythm moving in and out, only shallow depths that mocked the fierceness of his cock. She wanted more, much more.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “What, Scharlie? Tell me what you want,” he coaxed.

  “I want you inside,” she said.

  “Say it, Scharlie. Say you want my cock in your pussy. You want me to take you until you come.”

  She opened her eyes. Her hips rocked against his fingers, urging him to go faster or deeper or do something more. But he resisted, his eyes remaining impassive to her plea.

  “Fuck me,” she finally said, the words slipping easily from her mouth. More easily than she thought they would. “Please, fuck me hard. I need you.”

  That was all he needed. Garrett withdrew his finger and angled her hips over his steel cock. There was a moment of remembered roughness as the bulbous head slid in past the tight grasp of her pussy lips and into the snug channel. She could feel her wall weep with joy at Garrett’s hardness rocking home again, and she immediately matched his rhythm, wanting and needing more.

  “Oh,” she moaned.

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Sweat covered his skin, met her tongue, and she lapped at the salty sweetness. Garrett groaned at the touch of her small tongue. His large hands found their way under her skirt, which draped them, and settled upon her ass. He pulled her in closer, meeting each of his thrusts until she heard a sucking, slurping sound. Scharlie could feel the wetness just oozing from their joined bodies, and it spiraled her even higher. Garrett angled his hips a little, shifted them a little lower, and suddenly Scharlie felt every glorious, delicious inch of him as he banged away. But she was right there with him, giving as good as she got. They were now both covered in sweat, mindless of everything around.

  “Scharlie,” Garrett gasped. “You’re so tight. So wet. I’m not going to last much longer.”

  “Do it,” she whispered back. “I’m with you. Garrett!”

  And just like that, he erupted with a roar. She felt his cock jerking inside as he found his release, and the knowledge that she had reduced him to losing control made her fall off the pinnacle. She convulsed, her juices blending with his, until they both shuddered in exquisite bliss.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun was going down, casting a molten golden glaze over the land. Long shadows extended in front of Scharlie and Garrett as they walked back. Only Cassidy remained at the house, laboriously cleaning up debris in and around the house. Scharlie hung back as Garrett went to help, and she watched the two men work side by side, admiring their sleek physiques. They contrasted beautifully, light and dark, and it made her tingle just watching them.

  Her eyes seemed drawn to Cassidy because out of the both of them, he was the most mysterious. Garrett was like the refreshing drink of water in the desert. Not only did he quench her thirst, but he was rapidly becoming essential to her well-being, her survival. But Cassidy was an itch she couldn’t scratch. He got under her skin, and she couldn’t quite determine where to place him or what to do with him.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her that they really hadn’t eaten all that much in the past few days. She went about setting up an open fire pit, clearing the ground, and ringing it with stone. She gathered kindling and wood and soon had a nice blaze going. She dug out of her ruined kitchen potatoes, onions, and turnips, a skillet, and a round pot that wasn’t exactly round anymore. She eyed the dented side with pursed lips and sighed.

  From down in the cellar, she brought up flour and a few herbs, along with a jar of pickled corn and beets. There wasn’t any meat, so they’d have to make do with vegetables.

  As the men worked by the glow of the firelight, Scharlie chopped and diced and cooked up a hearty vegetable stew. And as difficult as the day had been, there was something calming about fixing a meal. It was a mindless task that allowed her thoughts to be kept at bay for a brief time.

  “Scharlie,” Garrett said from behind her.

  She turned her head and saw him holdi
ng out his hand to her. He was dressed all in white, in loose clothing that rippled in the slight breeze. Even Garrett’s hair was tied back with a white ribbon.

  “Come here,” he ordered, smiling.

  She rose, moved the stew off the fire, and took his hand. He led her around the house to where a raised platform held a contained fire. Cassidy waited for them, also dressed in white, his garments almost identical to Garrett’s. He was staring into the flames, the light casting brooding shadows on his face, but when they approached, he looked up. He had his arms folded across his chest, and the somber look didn’t leave his face.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “This is Harlow’s pyre,” Garrett explained.

  Scharlie recoiled a bit at the words, but Garrett held firm to her hand, lending some of his strength.

  “The Chinese do not believe in cremation, but we do believe in sending prayers and wishes along with the loved one lost,” he continued in a soft voice. “Cass and I have dressed in white to honor Harlow, designating our status to him as a friend and brother.”

  She watched as he pulled out paper from his pocket to throw into the fire. Immediately, little flames rose to consume the small bits of parchment, releasing ash that floated upward into the night.

  “This is prayer money, so Harlow has enough in the afterlife,” Cassidy told her has he threw in a couple of sheets to burn.

  Her chin quivered, but she refused to cry. This was a time to say good-bye to Harlow, to celebrate who he was and the small time she was allowed to be a part of his life. She took a step next to Cassidy and held out her hand. He looked down at her, gave her a wan smile, and gave her some paper.

  They all stood silently around the pyre, throwing in bits of prayer money and remembering.

  * * * *

  After their small ceremony, Garrett banked the remaining embers and then followed Cassidy and Scharlie back to where the food waited for them. They ate in silence, still wearing their white shrouds, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Instead, it seemed the past hour had brought them all closer somehow, that they now shared something deep and profound.

  Garrett volunteered to wash the dishes over by the water pump, leaving Cassidy and Scharlie alone by the fire. He rustled around and then held out a tin cup.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Medicinal relaxing juice.”

  She took that cup and looked inside, seeing only a clear liquid. She brought it to her nose and smelled the pungent odor of alcohol.

  “My, that’s potent,” she said with a sniff.

  He smiled. “Like I said, medicinal and relaxing.”

  Scharlie sat the cup next to her carefully then wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on top and stared at him intently, just looking him over from head to toe.

  She knew she was getting to him when he shifted a bit and cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where are you from?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I was born in Baltimore, but lately I’ve been all over, traveling with Garrett. And Harlow, too, until…”

  “Until Breaux Cox.”

  “Yes.”

  “And when will you two be leaving?”

  He was silent for a while, staring into the fire. “Not sure,” he finally answered, looking at her. “Why? You anxious to see the last of us?”

  The orange glow of the burning wood cast shadows over his face, making it impossible to read it.

  “No,” she answered. It could have been her imagination, but she thought she saw his shoulders relax. “Just, where do we go now? I mean, from what happened in the cellar?”

  “What would you like to happen, Scharlie?”

  She shook her head in wry amusement. “You’re very evasive, you know that? With Garrett, I get straight answers, but with you, I feel like I’m pulling teeth.”

  “Feelings of battle, fighting. Do you often feel like that?”

  She gave a snort and rose to her feet. “Fine, Cassidy, I get it. No questions. Have a nice night.”

  She headed away from the fire and homestead, moving toward the tree line. She had only gone about a hundred feet when she heard footsteps behind her.

  “I was fifteen when I left Baltimore,” he said in a strained, halting voice.

  Scharlie halted.

  “My mother had just died from the wasting disease, and my father left her grave site to marry his mistress. I hadn’t known about her till he dragged me to the church, presenting a stepmother on the very day they lowered my mother into the ground.”

  Scharlie turned. Cassidy stood there with his hands clasped on his head, his eyes looking at a spot somewhere far away.

  “They had never been happy. I think my conception was the last time they actually talked to each other,” he continued, his voice now softer as the memories played out. “Two miserable people forced to be together because of society and rules, as an arranged marriage. The rigidity of living such a life makes my skin crawl.” He shivered, as if he couldn’t even stand the thought.

  She wavered on what to do: go to him, comfort him, or simply let him be.

  “Garrett has the gift of words,” he told her, “whereas I can never find the right thing to say. So I end up not saying anything at all. At least, not about things that matter.”

  “What do you want from me, Cassidy?”

  “I’m not an easy man, Scharlie. I detest conformity, and to love me, you have to give me what I need. What I crave.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” she replied honestly.

  His arms fell to his sides, and he took a step toward her. “Can you accept us both, Scharlie? Can you love us both?”

  And then he pulled her into his body, one hand curling around her upper arm while the other hand buried itself in her hair. His kiss was hard, seeking her response and demanding her answer.

  And she gave it. Garrett was the giver while Cassidy was the taker, but she willingly caved to both natures. It was what she wanted, what she longed to do. Garrett spoke to her heart while Cassidy mirrored her own insecurities. He took, and she gave, and it satisfied both.

  When he lifted his head, they both were breathing hard.

  “When I left home, I did some bad things,” he muttered in a guttural tone. “I learned different ways to please and appease my soul.”

  She didn’t understand what he was saying, and her confusion must have registered on her face because he shook his head and let go of her. He took a step back.

  “Part of me hopes you never do understand,” he said. “But a bigger part of me hopes one day you will.”

  And then he turned and walked away from her, leaving her very unsettled.

  Chapter Nine

  The next few days were busy for them as the men framed the new barn and kitchen and then proceeded to start rebuilding. Various neighbors and people from the town stopped by to deliver food, lend a helping hand, or just visit. If anyone thought it odd that two strange men had shown up to help out the local teacher, no one mentioned it. In fact, everyone went out of their way to make Garrett and Cassidy feel welcome.

  At night, though, when they sat around the campfire, the two men changed tactics on her. Instead of sex, they opted to talk, to learn more about each other, and Scharlie realized that this was a big concession on Cassidy’s end. She knew he wasn’t a talkative person, at least, not about himself. But she recognized the effort it took for him to try to open up, even if he just reiterated the parts he had already said. She knew all about secrets, about shame, and admired the fact he trusted her enough to try.

  Garrett, however, was the glue that brought them both out of their shells. He filled in the silent gaps with amusing stories, keeping the flow of talk continuing without it feeling artificial. He had the gift of putting people at ease.

  By the third day, the kitchen walls and roof were up, allowing them to move back inside. The kitchen was larger, allowing the three of them to move around each other effortlessly
. The rest of the afternoon was spent putting the stove back in place and positioning the pipe. It was a heavy piece of steel, so Scharlie got the added bonus of watching their muscles bunch and contract. It gave her tingles in all the right places.

  That night, however, everything changed.

  Tom’s wife, Angie, had come by with a whole chicken, freshly plucked. Scharlie cut it up, coating the meat with herbs before frying it up. She added potatoes and carrots from her garden, and the delicious smell permeated the air, making her stomach rumble. The answering rumbles from Cassidy and Garrett made her smile, and they all sat down at her new table to enjoy the first home-cooked meal in her newly rebuilt kitchen.

  Scharlie spent the whole meal enjoying the feeling of having them with her, of having someone to cook for and to care for. She had been alone for so long that she had forgotten how nice company felt. But it was more than that. What coursed through her veins wasn’t just appreciation or gratitude, but instead contentment. It was a feeling of finally coming home.

  After the dishes had been washed and set to dry, the night was late. Cassidy had built up the fire so it blazed with warmth, and Garrett took her hand and led her over to a blanket that had been spread on the floor.

  Cassidy sat in the rocking chair, legs spread, arms resting beside him. His eyes glittered in the firelight. Tension rose high in Scharlie, and her heart started to pound in excitement.

  “Help her to kneel, Garrett,” Cassidy ordered.

  Without a word, Garrett took Scharlie’s hands in his and helped her kneel in front of him.

  “Scharlie, unbuckle Garrett’s belt and help him take his pants off.”

  Her hands shook only slightly as she obeyed. This was Cassidy. This is what turned him on. She may not quite understand, but she accepted. It only took her a moment to pull his pants down. She was slightly shocked to take note that Garrett didn’t wear long johns under his clothes, so she was eye level with his rigid cock.