Two Cowboys for Sadie (An MMF Bisexual Cowboy Threesome)

by Roxie Noir

  Two Cowboys for Sadie Copyright © 2014 Roxie Noir

  All rights reserved.

  This book is intended for audiences 18 and over only.

  The cover model is just a model, not someone who endorses or even knows about this book.

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  Two Cowboys for Sadie

  Roxie Noir

  “We ought to get on down the mountain,” Wyatt said. The snow had started an hour before, when he’d looked out the window before ordering another beer.

  “You got the four wheel drive, right?” said Houston.

  “Still a tricky drive.”

  “We oughtn’t leave this young lady alone and snowed in.”

  “This young lady can handle herself just fine,” piped up Sadie from behind the bar.

  “I’d feel better if we waited until your folks were back, though,” said Houston.

  “If this goes on much longer they’ll be spending the night in town,” Sadie said. She tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear and leaned both elbows on the bar. “You boys heading down together?”

  “We are,” said Wyatt. “Tomorrow we’re settin’ out for the Double Snake ranch in Idaho.”

  Sadie whistled. “That’s a drive.”

  They shrugged in unison. “Don’t mind it,” said Houston.

  Houston and Wyatt were nearly inseparable. Houston was named after the city but born in Colorado, and Wyatt was from Houston and they joked that their mommas must have known ahead of time that they’d be friends.

  They’d both been working a job for a rancher who couldn’t remember anyone’s name, so when he shouted for Texas to git over here one day, they’d both come running, the boy with the Texas name and the boy from Texas. Ten years on they were so close that there were rumors about the true nature of their relationship, though they were never substantiated.

  Sadie watched them both, sitting at the bar, beers in front of them. They wore similar plaid shirts, boot-cut pants, and their hats hung on hooks off to the side. Wyatt was blond and Houston a brunette, but besides that, there wasn’t too much difference between the two. When she’d been younger, about fifteen, and the Texas Boys were in their mid-twenties, she’d had crushes on both of them, but seven years later she understood that probably no woman could get between them.

  That didn’t always keep her from fantasizing about getting between them, though.

  Suddenly her phone, sitting on the bar, buzzed twice, and she checked the message.

  “They’re staying in town at Aunt Shirley’s,” Sadie announced. “I got the place to myself.”

  Houston, the brown-haired one, frowned. “It’s an hour of bad road to town,” he said. “I don’t like leaving you here.”

  Sadie waved her hand. “I got a phone. I’ll be fine just watching TV by myself. God knows I never get the remote.”

  Wyatt grinned at her. “Don’t watch anything too racy,” he said.

  “You mean like the stuff you watch?” she said, teasingly.

  “Don’t know nothing about that,” he said, winking at her, his blue eyes crinkling. He drained his beer.

  Houston still looked serious. “You got a generator up here?”

  “Course,” she said. “And a fireplace, and a wood stove, and a whole water tank.”

  He nodded somberly and drank more of his beer. “I still do think you we could stay up here with you.”

  “I’m grown,” she said.

  Houston and Wyatt exchanged a look, totally indecipherable to Sadie, though it made her uncomfortable. Suddenly, she felt as though she were intruding on their private business, so she turned her back and started washing glasses. They were the only two still in the bar at the Sky High Lodge, and no noise filled the big room except for the rush of water and clink of glasses.

  “If you think you’ll be all right,” said Houston.

  “Course I will,” said Sadie.

  And then the lights went out.

  “Shit,” she said.

  There was still enough daylight to see by, but there wouldn’t be for long. The three of them walked to the windows in the main part of the lodge, all plush leather furniture, stonework, and taxidermied animal heads. Outside was at least eight inches of snow on the ground, still coming down hard.

  The two cowboys looked at each other again, and then all three pulled on their heavy coats from a hook by the door.

  “In September, too,” said Sadie as they trudged outside.

  “These freak things happen,” said Wyatt.

  The generator was around the side of the house, under a makeshift lean-to, and Wyatt and Houston got to getting it started. After a couple of yanks on the cord, though, nothing was happening.

  “It got gas?” asked Houston.

  “It should,” said Sadie, standing behind them. “Daddy keeps it full.”

  There was silence as the two men inspected the tank.

  “Nope,” said Houston at last. “Empty.”

  Sadie kicked the side of the house. “Goddamn it, Daddy,” she said.

  “It’s only September, like you said,” Wyatt said. “He probably didn’t think it needed it yet.”

  “Bet he’s down in town, kicking himself now.”

  “If he even remembered,” said Wyatt.

  Houston gave him a look, and both men went silent.

  “Best go get that stove started,” sighed Sadie. She began walking back to the front door. The two men hesitated for a beat, exchanging another look behind her back. Then they came after her, following her snowy footsteps.

  “Keep the door shut if you can,” she said once they were inside, taking off their coats and stomping their boots before taking them off and leaving them on a mat. “Let the heat stay in.” She moved toward a wood stove in the corner. Both men went to the big fireplace in the center of the hall, easily four feet tall and five feet wide, and they all started making fires.

  “Y’all should get down the mountain if you’re going,” Sadie said,arranging the kindling in the wood stove.

  “We ain’t leaving you here to freeze,” volunteered Wyatt. “Get upset if you want but we just wouldn’t feel right leaving a young girl alone in this big place with no power and no heat.”

  Sadie exhaled through her nose, hard, but didn’t say anything. If she wasn’t being babied by her parents, she was being babied by these two. At least she could maybe have some fun with them, though.

  The kindling in the stove lit and she blew on it, gently, adding a few bigger pieces of wood.

  “Y’all don’t have to light that,” she said. “This is plenty.”

  “Since we’re gonna be here we may as well have a nice time,” said Wyatt.

  “I do like a fire,” said Houston.

  Sadie added some logs to the stove, then shut the door on it and stood, brushing off her hands. “I’ll grab us some lanterns,” she said, walking across the big main room. “You boys want a drink on the house?”

  “I wouldn’t say no,” said Wyatt.

  She came back with two Coleman camping lanterns, a bottle of Knob Creek whiskey, and three short glasses, setting them on the long, low wood coffee table that sat between an enormous leather couch and the fireplace.

  “You’re not drinking with us,” said Wyatt, teasing her.

  “You think I’m about to sit here, cold, and watch the two of you get shitfaced and tell horse stories?”

  “Not when you put it like that,” said Wyatt. He reached for the bottle, uncorked it, and poured three gener
ous snorts. “Here’s to a night in.”

  Houston came over, the fire now going in the fireplace, grabbed a glass, and held it up. “Cheers,” he said.

  “Cheers,” Sadie said, and took a sip of whiskey along with the two men. She shook her head a little in surprise as she swallowed, and the fiery liquid burned going down.

  Both men chuckled. “Still inexperienced?” Houston said, his brown eyes reflecting the fire.

  Sadie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I can handle myself,” she said.

  “Sure,” said Wyatt.

  She took another sip and this time didn’t jerk, just made a face as it went down.

  “Don’t you go wasting the good whiskey,” said Houston. “I know you’ve got a bottle of Old Crow under the bar for that.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Wyatt. “A girl’s got to learn to appreciate the finer things in life at some point.” He sat on the big leather couch, followed by Houston. Sadie sat in the armchair next to them.

  Sadie took another swallow, finishing off the glass. This time she kept a perfectly straight face. She was beginning to feel the warmth of the booze spread throughout her, making her hands and feet feel a little faraway, her head feel fuzzy.

  “Look how good she did that time,” Wyatt said. He reached for the bottle to pour her more. As he reached, Houston put one hand on his bare forearm, and Wyatt stopped. They looked at each other.

  Sadie knew immediately that she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to.

  “Be gentle with her,” Houston said to Wyatt. His fingers still rested on the other man’s forearm, curling slightly around them, his rough knuckles on arm hair.

  “She can take a little more,” he said to Houston, then looked at Sadie. “Can’t you?”

  “A little,” she said, her gaze still on Houston’s hand on Wyatt’ forearm. She’d never seen the two men touch before, she realized, as much as she’d seen them together.

  Houston let the other man go, and Wyatt poured her a few more sips of whiskey. Sadie lifted the glass to her mouth and sipped it, the burn less now that she’d had plenty already. She settled the near-empty glass on her knee, still holding it with one hand, and looked at the two men, at the roaring fire, and then back at them.

  It took her a few moments to notice that Houston’s hand was on Wyatt’ knee as they both looked at her. Then, as she watched, the hand moved, slowly, up Wyatt’ leg, then down, rubbing his thigh through his jeans.

  Sadie had no idea what to do, so she sipped the last of her whiskey, then put the glass on the coffee table. She glanced into the fire again, as though it would hold some suggestion for what she should do now that she was good and buzzed and these two gentlemen had begun touching one another.

  When she looked back, Wyatt had tilted his head up and was planting slow kisses along Houston’s neck, the other man’s hand now digging into the flesh of his thigh, eyes closed.

  Sadie froze, staring. She knew it was probably rude to stare, but wasn’t it also rude to start making out in front of someone else?

  Besides, she found it... interesting. Her heart beat faster and she felt the blood rush to her head as Wyatt slipped his other hand around Houston’s side, rubbing him through his shirt. His lips moved up the other man’s jawline, finally finding their way to his lips.

  Sadie thought her head might explode. She blinked her eyes and shook her head, trying to be sure of what she was seeing. She opened them again, and yep, they were still there: Wyatt and Houston, the Texas Boys, making out on the couch next to her with a need and ferocity she’d never seen before. Their stubbled faces rasped together, and she could see flashes of tongue and teeth between their lips. Now Houston had one hand around the back of Wyatt’ head, holding the other man tightly to him.

  She watched, entranced, knowing that she should stand up and go somewhere else and allow them some privacy, even though they’d started making out knowing that she was right there. Had two grown men gotten that drunk off one glass each of whiskey? Did a fire get them in the mood that much?

  At least, she thought, now she knew the rumors were true.

  Wyatt released himself from the other man and looked right at her, then.

  Sadie stood right away, so fast that the blood rushed away from her head and she had to sit back down. “Sorry,” she blurted out. “I was just going over to the — over there, to — you know...” Sadie gave up on trying to spit out the words and just pointed at the bar. She could feel herself turning bright red at getting caught watching these men making out, like she was some sort of peeping tom or pervert.

  No, they started in front of you, said a small voice inside her head.

  She stood again and took a few steps away from the chair, back toward the bar. Maybe they’ll forget I’m back there and they’ll start again, she thought, then immediately tried to squash the thought.

  Maybe they’ll take their shirts off too.

  Before she could get any further, either with her train of thought or physically, Houston spoke up.

  “Wait,” he said.

  Sadie turned. Wyatt had slung one muscled arm over Houston’s shoulders, Houston’s hand still resting on Wyatt’ thigh in more than a friendly way. Sadie didn’t say anything. She had no idea what to say.

  Houston patted the leather couch next to him.

  Sadie swallowed. She didn’t have much experience with this, but she had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. It was something she’d thought about a few times before, if she was being honest.

  “Come on,” said Houston. “We don’t bite.”

  “Not unless you ask real nice,” said Wyatt. When he smiled he had dimples, something that Sadie had noticed before but never really thought about. I could fit my whole tongue into one of those, she thought, transfixed at the thought.

  She walked to the couch and sat down next to Houston, folding one leg under herself. He put his free hand on her other thigh, the warmth of it immediately soaking through her jeans and onto her skin. She felt like she was melting, just a little.

  “I guess you heard the rumors,” he said.

  “I didn’t really think they were true,” she said, wide-eyed and blinking. “I mean, not that it’s bad. I think it’s great that you guys are—you guys are, you know, whatever. I just never saw any evidence.”

  “Glenpark ain’t the most open-minded community,” Wyatt said. “And we like it here.”

  “You seem different, though,” said Houston. His eyes bore into hers.

  Sadie swallowed, and then nodded. “I won’t tell,” she said.

  “Didn’t think you would,” said Houston. “What do you think about coming over here and joining us?”

  Sadie’s mouth went dry. Her? She wondered. Both of them were at least ten years older than her, and had to know that she was just some twenty-year-old small town girl whose sexual experience amounted, more or less, the backs of pickup trucks and one romp in hay barn. She’d had huge crushes on both of them when she was younger, crushes that had only gone away for lack of response from them, not from lack of desire on her part. For a moment, she thought they must be joking and were waiting for her to say yes so they could laugh at her.

  She looked from man to man, though, slowly realizing that they were both completely serious, sitting still, waiting for her answer. She licked her lips, mouth still dry.

  Then she nodded. Both of them smiled.

  “C’mere, then,” said Houston, and Sadie swung her leg over him. She straddled Houston, one leg stuck between him and Wyatt, suddenly towering over the dark-haired cowboy.

  “Atta girl,” he said, reaching his hand up to her chin and bringing her face down to his.

  He tasted like whiskey and leather, somehow, and his mouth was warm and dry. He kissed her slowly, moving his lips along hers, letting his tongue lick slowly at the entrance to her mouth. She could feel his stubble rasping along her face, sharp and rough, and she put her hands up in front of her, one on Houston’s chest and one o
n Wyatt’. There were hands everywhere on her: one still on her chin, two on her legs, and one grasping at her waist. She had no idea whose were whose. One made its way up her arm to her shoulder, grasping her firmly but gently.

  Gasping, she broke away from Houston, feeling almost dizzy. Wyatt had a grip on her shoulder and pulled her to him, his mouth seeking hers, his lips also warm and dry but in his kiss there was something more urgent. Something almost needy, and his tongue sought hers out, winding itself around her, constantly looking to get deeper and deeper until he broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, as if gathering himself. He put one hand in her hair and his other went to Houston’s thigh.

  “You taste good,” he told her.

  “You two taste like whiskey,” she said, and Wyatt opened his eyes and laughed, pulling his head away from hers. His hand made its way down her body and squeezed her ass through her jeans.

  Houston frowned at him. “Be gentle with her,” he said. “No rushing.”

  “Give her a little credit,” Wyatt said. He squeezed again.

  With Sadie still straddling Houston, Wyatt reached for the front of his shirt and pulled him in, roughly, inches in front of Sadie’s face. His knuckles were white where he held the other man’s shirt and the flannel pulled hard at his side. With one hand Houston reached up for the side of Wyatt’ face, gripping it rough, pressing it to his own, and the other slid down to Sadie’s ass, settling there gently and squeezing, just a little.

  She put a hand on Wyatt’ thigh, and began sliding it up, slowly, watching the bulge that strained against his jeans. Wyatt groaned into the other man’s mouth, his own hand releasing Houston’s shirt and making its way down to his oversize silver belt buckle.

  Encouraged, Sadie ran her fingers lightly over the bulge, eyes still fixed on the two men. Wyatt’ eyes squeezed shut even harder, and with the hand that had been on Houston he took Sadie’s hand and placed it own over it, pressing his hips hard into both of them. Beneath his pants, Sadie could feel the iron-hard rod of his erection, straining at his zipper. The men broke apart again, and then Houston’s hand joined the two already at Wyatt’ crotch, the pressure of both men pressing down nearly squashing Sadie’s hand onto the man’s erection.