Acres, Natalie - Sex Addict [Cowboy Addiction 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Natalie Acres

  “What are you thinking?” Kit asked.

  “I may have made an error in judgment.”

  “You make a lot of those.”

  “Let her talk, Kit.”

  Holly winked at Kemper. He was hers through and through, and yet other women had seen a side of him she’d yet to experience. Other lovers had enjoyed Kit and Kemper in a way she’d never seen. Subs and slaves knew things about them that she didn’t, and for some reason, all of a sudden, she was greatly troubled by the truth.

  Other women perhaps knew the Keesling duo better than the one living with them for well over a year! She should’ve been ashamed of herself for denying them what they perhaps wanted most. Moreover, she should’ve been regretful because by refusing them, she’d denied herself a world of exquisite pleasures, the kind of satisfaction women rarely find in one lover, much less two.

  Holly rubbed her arms briskly. “Someone should turn the heat on down here. It’s cold.”

  “It’s cool,” Kemper told her. “It’s the perfect temperature. Believe me, on some nights, it’s hotter than an inferno down here.”

  She’d like to test that theory out for herself. What she’d give to see the steam rising from a couple of hard bodies.

  “I believe you,” she said, narrowing her gaze on Kit again. “So you never answered me. What if I wanted you to make me your slave? Where would we go from here?”

  “Are you teasing or offering?” Kit asked, his lust-filled eyes trekking up the leg she crossed over her knee.

  She hiked up her skirt and showed off a high panty cut with the imprinted slogan, “Eat me,” which was actually a new brand she’d just started wearing. For about a hundred bucks, edible underwear and lingerie were available in all shapes and sizes.

  She wore a four.

  “Tease,” Kit growled, staring at her pussy.

  “I meant to show you guys these earlier,” she said, deliberately changing the subject. “They have them down at Mona’s Secrets. It’s that new place on the corner of Highway 75.”

  “Yeah. I know the place,” Kemper said, a guttural pitch in his voice. “We should keep some panties like what you’re wearing on hand. Maybe I’ll pick up a few different styles and flavors.”

  “Mona has an assortment. I’m sure she’d love to model for you.” Holly batted her eyelashes and half expected Kit to ridicule her for the blatant insinuation.

  Oh yes, she knew all about Mona and her time with the Keesling brothers. If rumors were true, after Mona spent a summer at the Keesling farm, she opened a slew of businesses, parlaying her severance package—if that’s what they wanted to call their generous hit-the-road gifts—into a small fortune.

  Kit massaged his neck. “Kemper, why don’t you give Mona a call and see if you can’t arrange one of those private showings?”

  Holly gulped. Sudden rage zipped through her veins.

  “Wouldn’t hurt. I don’t guess.”

  “Like hell it wouldn’t,” Holly grumbled. “I’d hate for the two of you to show up without the proper equipment to enjoy the show. Mona would be quite disappointed, I’m sure.”

  “With Mona running an intimate apparel store, it’s advantageous for us to reconnect, Holly. We’re old friends,” Kit explained, a grin tugging at his lips.

  “With benefits,” she muttered.

  Kemper winked. “You never know when we may need new gadgets. It’s hard to say what you might find down here from one day to the next. With Mona’s nearby, we shouldn’t run short on lubes and condoms. That’s for sure.”

  “I take it you’ve been playing without me in recent months?” she asked, her gaze bouncing between brothers. If one of them—just one of them—brought a submissive woman or anyone else down there while she was living in the same house, she was out of there.

  “Chill, doll,” Kemper said, laughing. “We’re teasing you. Mona isn’t in the picture. I promise.”

  “Mona isn’t your type. I wasn’t worried.”

  They observed her like they saw right through her girlish jealousy.

  “You weren’t?” Kit asked.

  “No. I wasn’t.” She cleared her throat. “Hell, you’d need to keep a dick in her cheek to silence the old gal. She is pretty but she is most definitely used-up merchandise.

  “She proudly boasts about the men she’s left in her wake. To add to the ambiance of her new adult store, she keeps public records for all to see. The initials of the men she’s fucked are carved in a headboard propped up against the wall behind the cash register.”

  Kit shrugged. “Can’t blame her for that.”

  “Why?”

  “Kit is right. The women in this town haven’t been kind to Mona.”

  “No wonder,” Holly grumbled.

  Her battle wounds were etched in wood and bold enough to cause some permanent scars. The occasional insecure woman who visited Mona’s often discovered her significant other was a memory worthy of merit on Mona’s wall of shame.

  No, Holly wasn’t worried about Mona, but she was concerned about herself. Why was she suddenly jealous? Why was she outright possessive? She didn’t like that trait in others, and yet here she was thinking like, acting like…a girlfriend!

  Maybe her distorted thoughts could be explained. Holly and unfaithfulness didn’t mix. She might have been a woman with a past, but her explicit road to present day revealed a history she couldn’t have done without. Most men wouldn’t want her to anyway.

  Schooled women learned to function best on their backs—or their knees—after they’d had a couple of partners, and where the tools of the trade were concerned, Holly was taught properly. Her first boyfriend was the Dom of all Doms, or so he thought.

  She hadn’t told them that. Maybe she should. Perhaps then they could decide on which way they wanted her to swing—slave or sub, sub or slave. At this point, that was the only decision they needed to make. Only thanks to her men living on a cowboy’s time, they hadn’t figured that out yet.

  Then again, neither had she.

  * * * *

  Kemper’s fingernail was wedged between two bottom front teeth. He was lost in his own thoughts as he watched the way Holly eyed certain items scattered throughout the room.

  Without a doubt, she’d seen, and probably used, most of the toys in their exotic toy box. The Catherine Wheel was another story. After she’d curiously studied the largest furniture piece in the room, there was little doubt in Kemper’s mind. Holly couldn’t wait to take her first spin around the wheel.

  “Since you moved in,” Kemper said, deciding he should put his woman’s mind at ease, “there hasn’t been anyone else.” He stared at Kit, hoping he’d give her the assurance she apparently craved, but when he didn’t, Kemper provided the information anyway. “Kit hasn’t slept with anyone either. We only bring committed partners down here.”

  Eyes as green as emeralds looked back at him. “Is that the truth?”

  “Of course,” Kemper promised. “Why would you think anything else? Have we ever lied to you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Have we paraded girls in here, one after the other?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Did we force you to accept our lifestyle?” Kit asked, interrupting Kemper before he could ask another question of his own.

  “No,” she replied. “In fact, you locked me out of it.”

  “We what?” they asked in unison.

  Kit rubbed his five o’clock shadow. “How’d you reach that conclusion?”

  She simultaneously shrugged, rolling her shoulders forward and back, allowing her breasts to bounce as she shifted around, and acted like she was contemplating the best answer.

  Kemper was accustomed to her tactics. Holly enjoyed keeping her men on their toes. Regardless of how she strutted, he sure loved to watch her body move, her breasts bounce.

  “You just did, Kit. That’s all.”

  His eyes darkened, and Kemper quickly anticipated what Kit had in mind. He’d been here an
d done this a few dozen times. Before Holly knew what hit her, Kit slung her over his shoulder and stomped to the corner. “Well, little woman,” he said, giving her rump a solid pat, “what do you say we open the door and let you waltz right in?” His eyes glittered with possibilities. “Far be it for me to shut a woman out of the best of parties.”

  “Put me down, Kit,” she said calmly.

  “Not yet,” he said, stroking her globes, caressing her bottom. “I’m enjoying this.”

  “Yes, well, I’m sure you are. Maybe you should’ve tossed me over your back earlier today. Then, you wouldn’t have had time to kick me out on my ass!”

  “Obviously, you didn’t go very far,” he pointed out, reaching for the curtain. He yanked the rope, dragging the drapery to the side. Then, he gently placed her on a wooden slab connected to the wall, a bench seat they’d made for this very purpose—a time-out chair for naughty subs with discipline problems.

  “Holly, this is where we place a disobedient sub. It’s obvious. You need to learn to express yourself appropriately. When a Dom wants his sub’s compliance and doesn’t find her agreeable, often punishment is in order.”

  Kemper stood nearby, close enough to watch. He felt like he was set to view the first season of a new drama unfolding, one guaranteed to be a huge network hit.

  After plopping down on the slanted wooden slab, Holly asked, “So now what?”

  “Rule number one,” Kit began. “You’ll address me as Master, Kemper as Sir.”

  “When hell freezes over,” she said, studying her nails.

  Holly’s defiance didn’t rattle Kit. Then again, they’d discussed this in the past. If and when Holly entered training, they fully understood what they potentially faced. She’d be their greatest challenge, but in the end, the satisfying conclusion and rewards that went along with having a compliant sub would be well worth the effort.

  “Rule number two, since you weren’t able to make a decision for yourself, Kemper and I will assume you’re incapable of making choices. We’ll make them for you.”

  “Oh that’s sweet, quite thoughtful in fact,” she said, taking a deep breath and acting as if she were positively bored.

  “And finally, rule number three,” he said, grinning wider. “We use a checks-and-balances system here. Now that we’re pretty certain you’ve wanted to enter our training program, you’ll be taught to respect your punishment and look forward to your rewards. Understood?”

  “Sure,” she drawled. She stood then and said, “I think I’ll go see if Mrs. Daniels will make me some lunch.”

  “You forgot rule number four,” Kemper told Kit.

  Kit frowned. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Kemper replied, realizing there wasn’t a rule number four until the need for an addendum became necessary. “You won’t order people around now. Instead, you’ll be here to serve and please your dominant partners. When you’re rewarded, you’ll be able to use Mrs. Daniels. She’ll help you cook and clean. In the meantime, you’re on common ground here. Look at your education as basic training, sort of like boot camp. You’ll start at ground zero, which is pretty much where you were when we found you. Then, you’ll earn your privileges. Are we clear?”

  She frowned.

  “You don’t agree?” Kit asked.

  “I wasn’t at rock bottom and that’s what you’re implying.”

  “Going to bed with countless strangers night after night doesn’t place you at ground zero?”

  “No,” she replied. “But let’s get one thing crystal clear. You will not make me feel ‘less than’ because of my past. The past is over. It’s gone. I can’t go back and change it and I’m not sure I’d want to if I could. I made a lot of friends, enjoyed a few laughs, and gained the experience you now seem to enjoy.”

  “She has a point,” Kemper said.

  “Not a good one.”

  “Kit, when did you become so judgmental?”

  “Oh, he’s always been that way,” Kemper informed her.

  “Well, I don’t like it. The man I followed to East Tennessee was kind and compassionate.”

  “You’re right. You followed me here. Didn’t you?”

  Her lips twitched. “Kemper, the differences between brothers are alarming.”

  “How?”

  “They just are.”

  “You can’t claim you were misled, Holly. You’ve been here a year,” Kit reminded her.

  She looked around. “And I knew so much about you, right?”

  “You’re the one who said you had no interest in the lifestyle.”

  Rather than argue a case she wouldn’t win, she placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Can I go now, Sir?”

  “She catches on quickly,” Kemper said proudly.

  Holly took a deep breath and pushed by them, shaking her head. “Mrs. Daniels!” she screamed, stomping upstairs. “Will you help me prepare something for lunch? I’m so hungry I could eat a cowboy!”

  At the top of the stairs, she turned around and flashed them a million-dollar smile. “Thanks, guys. I enjoyed the tour and hearing all about your little fantasies. I got a real kick out of the place down there. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

  The door slammed in their faces, and Kit said, “Apparently she doesn’t catch on as quickly as what we might like to think.”

  “I think she’s still angry with you.”

  “If she’s mad now, just you wait. By the time the day is over, she’ll be screaming profanity and threatening to leave.”

  Kemper grinned. “But you won’t let her go now, will you?”

  “Fuck no,” Kit replied, rubbing his nape. “After I saw that spark of interest burning in her eyes, I can’t wait to tie her up and tease her. That is, after she answers a few questions for me.”

  “You need to let that go,” Kemper warned him.

  “I can’t,” Kit stated flatly. “I’m determined to hear her side of the story. I want to know who Holly Hamlin was before she met us.”

  “Holly Hamlin was exactly the woman you see now. She doesn’t have a changing face for different men and seasons. She isn’t that kind of woman.”

  Kit shrugged. “I think you’re gonna be surprised by what we uncover about the lover we’ve had living here for well over a year.”

  Kemper walked upstairs and jiggled the doorknob. He knocked and then pounded on the door. “Mrs. Daniels! Holly locked us down in the basement. Holly! Are you out there?”

  “Fuck,” Kit muttered, checking his pockets.

  “I’ll take a wild guess. You left the key in the door.”

  “Yep,” Kit replied, turning his pockets inside out.

  “Super,” Kemper muttered, retrieving his cell. “Let me see if I can get a hold of Blake or Grant. See if one of them will take mercy on us and come let us out.”

  Kit grunted. “Who knows, maybe your woman—you know, the one with the charming personality that never changes—will come back. We could take a gamble and wait.”

  “Yeah, right,” Kemper grumbled. “We’d be sitting here until the first frost fell.”

  Chapter Seven

  Holly heard them coming for her. The jingle of spurs and heavy heels dropping against each wooden stair made her insides shiver. They’d made it to the first landing. They were marching up to the second floor.

  She’d already bathed and shaved. She’d visited Leigh Ann, her talented esthetician, the day before, paying for a Brazilian wax since bikini season was about a month away. Now, she was glad she treated herself to the indulgence.

  Life as she’d known it was about to change. She couldn’t wait to see the future unravel before her.

  Even though Kit had pissed her off, particularly when he’d said she’d gone to bed with strangers night after night—since that wasn’t entirely true—she had a profound desire to move forward and overlook his current shortcomings. Kit was an alpha male. He had too many alluring qualities, and Holly couldn’t stay angry with him.

  Then again
, he sort of owed her an apology.

  He wouldn’t want her asking questions about his life prior to meeting her. She snickered to herself. Oh hell, she could only imagine the wrath she’d face if she went snooping around Blountville prying for data about Kit or Kemper. And an e-mail? Ha! If one of their old lovers sent her a message, the Keeslings would close down the town and find out who was ballsy enough to hit send and drop the damning e-mail.

  Holly tingled all over as the footsteps became more pronounced. She felt like a bride on her wedding night. A virginal bride, if she could even picture such an image. Sure, she knew what to expect. She understood what was on the way, but she had no way to gauge the discomfort she’d endure prior to finding new pleasures.

  Yes, she felt the angst of that virginal bride.

  She checked the mirror and noted her choice of short denim cut-offs and a low-cut fitted top. Hmm, one thing about it, candy-apple red was her color. She was hardly the kind of woman a man expected to see draped in snow white.

  A heavy knock fell upon the door. They were there. Trouble had arrived right on time. Nothing would stand between them now. This was the beginning of something quite carnal, delectable in every way. It was a new day in the Keesling house and a new hour in their relationship.

  Like two brutes coming to secure their criminal, Kit and Kemper stood inside her doorway—well, actually the room belonged to Kemper—with their arms crossed over thick chests.

  “Well,” she drawled flippantly, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. “What took you two so long?”

  Kit snarled.

  “Oh my,” she said. “You look just plain mean.”

  “And you try to find ways to waste my time,” Kit said, stalking her. “Did it ever occur to you that I can’t spend all day locked in the basement?”

  “Ah shucks, hon,” she hummed. “I thought you might need a break from chasing heifers today.”