Her Cowboy Doms [Pleasure, Texas 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  Paul waved at a Hispanic woman who had come from one of the hallways to stand behind the bar. “Lucinda, would you please find a uniform to fit Georgia? She’s going to be working here starting tonight.”

  “Tonight? Sir?” Would she ever get used to adding sir to everything she said? Or even harder, master?

  “Sure thing, Master Paul.” The sweet-looking older woman gave her a once-over. “What size are you, honey? An eight? A ten?”

  Stating her size was almost more difficult than disrobing. “I’m a size ten.”

  “I’ll be right back, masters.” Lucinda gave them a quick nod, then disappeared down the right hallway.

  “Wait a second. If I’m going to work here, where am I going to stay? The town didn’t look big enough to have a hotel.”

  “Ms. Powton runs a bed and breakfast on the outskirts of town, but you’ll stay here with us.”

  A thrill of joy rushed through her. “In your house?”

  “Don’t worry, sugar, you’ll have your own room. If you want it.”

  If she wanted it? Was Destin inviting her to stay in one of their rooms?

  “Stay still, baby.” Paul came closer, then took her face and pressed a light kiss on her lips.

  Her breath hitched in her throat. He’d used no tongue and hadn’t crushed his mouth to hers, but it was one of the most passionate kisses she’d ever gotten. When he stopped, he gave her a soft smile.

  “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you, Georgia?” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Tell me the truth.”

  He was right, had pegged her perfectly. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Instead, she shrugged, then averted her gaze.

  “It’s okay. I won’t make you answer. Yet. But I’m guessing you’ll like this.”

  He placed his palm at the side of her breast, then instead of fondling her as she’d expected, he kept going, taking his hand downward, over her hip and the rise of her stomach until it covered her mons. She stilled the rush of emotions tearing at her, willing her to moan.

  Kissing her again as lightly as he’d done before, he pushed his middle finger between her pussy lips. Surprised, she stepped back and flattened her hands against his wide chest. At the same time, she eased backward into Destin who gripped her butt cheeks and squeezed.

  She was trapped and, damn it, loving it.

  Paul’s finger was an instrument of magic as he rubbed it against her clit then eased it inside her pussy. She held her breath, unable to think. He worked his finger in and out, skimming over her aching clit as another rush of moisture left her.

  Had she gotten his fingers wet? Would he lick them clean?

  Please. Let him lick them.

  If she got any hotter, she’d melt into a pool of desire. Why was she responding to them? She was an independent, strong-willed woman, and yet, she found herself obeying their every command.

  And yeah, loving it.

  As much as she wanted to fight against it, as much as she knew she should, she couldn’t bring herself to tell them to stop. She should slap them, grab her clothes, and get the hell out, but her legs wouldn’t move. The safe word was on her lips, but she couldn’t get the word out.

  She closed her eyes and berated herself. What are you thinking? Get. Out. Now.

  She’d managed to force her body to turn when Lucinda came back into the room. Paul and Destin moved away from her, leaving her breathless and shaky. Her body broke out in a sweat, perspiration dotting her hairline. They’d taken her for a hot, wild ride in a short time and had left her feeling like she’d taken a drink of the most delicious wine she’d ever tasted only to see it poured out onto the ground in front of her.

  Don’t stop.

  “Put your clothes back on, sub.” Paul strode past Lucinda toward the hallway, then pivoted to face her again. His eyes had darkened, searing into her. “When you come to work tonight, be wearing that outfit.”

  Lucinda handed Georgia’s new work clothes not to her, but to Destin. He checked them, then gave a curt nod and handed them to her.

  She took the clothes, then one at a time, held them up. “You’re kidding, right? You really expect me to wear this?”

  “That’s what all the waitresses in the club wear.” Destin turned to Lucinda who stood nearby, silent and waiting for their direction. “Isn’t it, Lucinda?”

  “Yes, Master Destin.”

  “But she’s not wearing it.”

  “Lucinda oversees all the waitstaff. She’s a manager and a monitor.”

  A monitor? She glanced at the cameras.

  “Thank you, Lucinda. You can leave now.”

  She watched Lucinda give Paul a quick nod, then pivot around and leave. Once the woman was gone, she had to ask.

  “Why does she call both of you master?” The next question was difficult. “Is she your woman? It makes it sound like she’s your slave. Is she?”

  “No, she’s not our woman. She’s a submissive like so many of the other women who either work here or are members. People like Lucinda and the other members show us respect by calling us master. We don’t have anyone who is our slave or anyone who lives with us twenty-four-seven. As I said before, Destin and I prefer a relationship where our sub is equal to us except during sex. That’s the way we want it. Others can choose how they are together.”

  The relief that hit her surprised her. What did she care if they already had a woman or not? But she did. She cared a lot. The knowledge that she cared that much rankled her.

  She couldn’t keep her gaze level with his. Instead, she held up the black studded halter, then the black shirt that flared out, reminding her of a saloon girl’s dress in the Wild West. Black boots with silver detailing completed the outfit. Almost.

  “What am I supposed to wear under this skirt?” She’d dropped the sir designation again, this time on purpose, testing to see how far they’d push her.

  “You don’t wear anything under it.”

  “What?”

  Paul’s jaw muscle jumped. The rough stubble that outlined his face made him look rugged. On another man, a lesser man, the look would’ve appeared unkempt. “None of our subs wear underwear. No panties and no bras.”

  “What exactly are you expecting me to do? What other duties would a waitress have except to serve food and drinks?”

  Destin pointed at her. “That’s it, sugar. You serve people and I’m not just talking about drinks and food. If they ask for something, you get it. Even then, you don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to do, especially anything sexual. That’s for Paul and me alone. But just remember. The front door works both ways. In and out.”

  “Tell us, Georgia. Are you brave enough to give it a try? If so, we have an initiation all new workers go through once they’ve decided to stay.” Paul arched his eyebrows in question, daring her to take him up on the challenge.

  “What kind of initiation?” She waited, ready for him to chastise her for not using sir, and was disappointed when he didn’t. They were testing each other, pushing at each other’s limits. Her competitiveness was taking over, but for once, she wasn’t sure she wanted to win.

  “You’ll see.” Paul started for the door. “Make your decision later after you’ve seen more. Don’t decide based on a fear of what the initiation is like.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  He paused, the corners of his mouth crooking toward the ceiling. “I’m sure you’re not. Otherwise, you would’ve never shown up in Texas.”

  They kept reminding her that she’d come to them. Although it was true, she couldn’t help but think it put her at a disadvantage. “Fine.” She reconsidered her decision, then blurted out the rest, unable to stop her. “Count me in, sirs.”

  Destin took her by the neck. “Do you still think you’re not a submissive?” He chuckled and turned on his heel to stride after his brother.

  Holy shit. Am I?

  Chapter Five

  “Georgia’s confused. But she was confused before she came
to the ranch.” Destin leaned against the side of the club, out of sight of Georgia and Lucinda who were walking toward the house. He couldn’t help but notice how the ranch hands doing chores stopped and gave her hungry looks.

  “What did you find out?”

  He saw that Paul noticed the men, too. “It wasn’t difficult to find information. The case was in the papers nationwide, but the Atlanta paper kept on the story after the others let it go. Her record was top-notch until about a year ago. That’s when the multiple murder of a family of four happened. The parents along with their two children, a twelve-year-old boy and a girl just eight-years-old were brutally stabbed. Georgia and her partner were the responding officers to the scene, but she was the one who walked into the house first. Her report said she checked out the rest of the house then the backyard where she reported seeing a man watching from the trees. Too bad all she saw was his bloody arm and a weird snake tattoo. She didn’t get a look at his face.”

  He sensed his brother stiffen. He, too, would’ve liked to get his hands on the killer. Not only because he despised anyone who would harm a child, but for Georgia’s sake as well.

  “What she saw in that house tore her apart. She wasn’t the same after that. Her employee file said that she became obsessed with finding the killer. So obsessed that she had a hard time doing anything else in her job. They made her go to the department shrink who finally told her she needed time off and away from Atlanta. That’s when she came to us.”

  Paul cast his gaze down. “Still, even if they made her leave, it’s us she came to.”

  “And not a minute too soon. If she hadn’t, I was going to head back there and track her down.”

  “We’ve got a lot to do. We need to bring her back to rights. It’ll be us who helps her feel more secure, safe, and strong. If she’ll listen to us, she’ll regain her confidence by becoming our submissive.”

  “Agreed. But first, I think we’d better spread the word for the others to keep hands off, too, before someone tries to play with her.”

  “You’re right, Destin. Let’s tell the others.”

  * * * *

  Lucinda had helped her settle into one of the rooms. The woman had talked the entire time, telling her about Paul and Destin, the ranch, and her life as a submissive to two of the men who handled the horses. Georgia had listened to everything she’d said and had admitted that it sounded wonderful.

  One of the ranch hands had retrieved her suitcase from her car, then had hung around outside her room, asking repeatedly if she needed anything else. She hadn’t missed the fact that he was attracted to her, but when he asked her if she was going to the club that night, Lucinda had taken charge and had hurried him down the hallway. The woman had been very polite and respectful, even calling him sir, but she’d had complete control of the situation.

  Her father would’ve said, “That woman can tell a man he’s going straight to hell and have him thinking it’s heaven.” That was Lucinda to a tee.

  She’d taken the rest of the afternoon to walk around the house, getting lost once in the process, before heading back to her room to take a leisurely bath.

  Her bedroom was beautiful and filled with colors from the flowered bedspread to the vase of sunflowers resting on the high bureau. Huge picture windows gave her a spectacular view of the land flowing out toward the horizon. The walls were painted a neutral shade of taupe that extended into the en suite bathroom. The tub, a whirlpool she ached to try, nestled against a long granite counter. The walk-in shower boasted several showerheads with an instrument panel that had her wondering if she could ever learn to use it.

  She poured a generous amount of the bubble bath into the tub and turned on the faucet. As soon as the water was high enough, she dropped her clothes to the floor, then slid into the silky warmth of the water.

  Bubbles, a rare treat for her, floated around her body. She felt better than she had in a long time. Sighing, she laid her head against the tub and let her thoughts wander. Before coming to the ranch, she wouldn’t have dared to do that. Doing so usually led her thoughts straight back to the murder scene.

  When Destin’s and Paul’s handsome faces popped into her mind, she eased down into the water. They were even sexier than she remembered. They’d dressed casually in Atlanta, but seeing them in their faded jeans, worn boots, and denim shirts had given them a manly, hero-in-the-making air that burned its way into her pussy.

  Still, she couldn’t believe what she’d done at the club. Stripping in front of anyone, especially strangers, astounded her. What had come over her? Then to call them sir? She barely knew them, but strangely, she knew more than she needed. Had she gone crazy?

  Crazy horny, maybe.

  Yet physical attraction wasn’t the whole truth of it. They possessed a power she craved. Not to have for herself. No, instead she wanted them to use their power over her.

  Had she found not one, but two men to take care of her? Men who would take charge, giving her the freedom to drop her burden at their feet and know they’d do anything to protect her?

  She was ready to find out.

  After washing, she grabbed one of the huge fluffy white towels hanging on a rod next to the bathtub and dried herself off. She was relaxed, more than she’d been since that awful day, but she still jumped when her phone rang.

  “Georgia Fox here.”

  “Georgia, it’s Mack.”

  Mack was her partner and her friend, but hearing his voice could only mean one thing. Something had happened.

  “What is it, Mack?”

  “I’ve got news.”

  He didn’t have to specify which case. No other case mattered. “Tell me.” She made it to the bed and sat down.

  “There’s been another murder. Same M.O. as the other one.”

  “Shit.” Her stomach churned. “How many?”

  “A family of five. The Harpers. They lived in the same area and the kids went to the same school. Other than those two things, there’s no connection between the cases.”

  “What’s going on? What have we done so far?” She was up and moving toward her suitcase. Getting back to Atlanta was the priority. Even more important than getting to know Paul and Destin better. “I can be there in a few hours.”

  “No. You can’t come back.”

  “What? Of course I can. I have to. I’m the one who knows the most about the first case.” It was her duty to help.

  “Georgia, we got a lead, a solid lead, that the killer left town a few days ago.”

  “A few days ago and you’re just now calling me?”

  “It’s not as simple as you’d think. You need that time off and I don’t want to ruin that for you.”

  “So do you know anything more? Do you know who it is?”

  “Yeah, an informant gave us a name. It’s Victor Manah, but the name’s probably a fake. We can’t bring any info up, not even a driver’s license. The captain thinks he might be an Iraq veteran that’s gone off his rocker. Our contact mentioned the tattoo of the snake with a white cross in the middle of its head. On the right arm, too.”

  “And he’s sure he’s left town?”

  “Yeah. We’ve got the word out around the country, but we don’t have a clue where he went. At least not yet. Georgia, our informant also said that he was asking around about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. We don’t know how he got the information that you were the cop that saw him that day. Maybe from the papers? I don’t know. At any rate, our snitch said he was snooping around, trying to find out where you live.”

  “Then that’s another reason for me to come back. If he comes looking for me, we can nail him.”

  “According to the captain, that’s another reason to keep you out of town. We’ve got a patrol cruising by your home every so often, in case he shows up.”

  “Does he know that I’m not there? Or where I am?”

  “Not that we can find out. But this guy’s smart. I wouldn’t put it past him to dig that info
up somehow. That’s part of why I’m calling you. I don’t want you to get blindsided. Stay alert, okay?”

  “Okay, but I’m still coming back. I can’t stay here and do nothing. If he wants to find me, then let’s let him.”

  “No, Georgia, you can’t. The captain knew I’d wind up telling you and that you’d go ballistic when you heard the news. He says he’ll make up charges, or call it protective custody and toss your butt in jail if you show your face in town. And me in the next cell.”

  “He can’t do that.”

  “I wouldn’t push it if I were you. And, Georgia?”

  “Yeah? Spit it out. What else?” She held the clothes she was going to throw on against her chest.

  “Stay there. The captain doesn’t want you here. He says you’d be in the way.”

  She’d been stabbed once in the line of duty. That didn’t hurt half as much as what the captain had said. “That’s messed up,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, it is. But that’s how it’s going down. I’m sorry, partner.”

  She hung up, knowing Mack would understand when she didn’t say good-bye.

  Victor Manah.

  She’d waited a long time to put a name to the killer and now she couldn’t do anything about it.

  * * * *

  Georgia stared at her reflection in the mirror. The studded halter top and skirt hugged her body, bringing out curves even she didn’t know she had. The boots fit perfectly and she turned to study her legs. Wearing only her policewoman’s uniform as well as jeans and T-shirts most of the time, she’d forgotten how shapely her legs were.

  But could she go to the club in the getup? Especially since she wasn’t wearing any underwear?

  “I can’t do this.”

  She’d taken an hour to get dressed, doing the best she could on her makeup and her hair. Then she’d sat and stared at the outfit laid out on her bed for thirty minutes more before she’d had the nerve to put it on.

  What choice did she have? She could get her regular clothes on and head to the airport. But going back to Atlanta to sit around in her home while other cops were handling cases—including her case—would drive her insane. And if the captain found out, she might get Mack into trouble. The captain was tough and fair, but when he told an officer to do something, that officer damn well did it. Or else. She’d always liked that about the captain.