Fill Her Up (Daly Way Series, Book Three)

by Brynn Paulin

  He’d thought his friend was into what they’d been doing, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe his feelings would be for nothing and Patrick was merely curious.

  Keeping a smile on his face, he reached for his coffee. “How about a picnic? Verity likes them, and we can borrow horses over at the Flying D ranch.”

  Chapter Five

  Verity didn’t know how long she’d been passed out, but she smelled fresh-brewed coffee as she wandered down the steps. Bright sunlight beat down through the living room’s large windows, intensifying the shyness that overcame her as she lingered at the landing.

  All the men were sprawled on the oversized furniture in the sunken portion of the room. She swallowed, overwhelmed by the sheer size of them. They were huge…

  And she’d had gritty sex with these four, and she didn’t even know names for two of them—well…she knew the names, just not who belonged to which.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Sim called. He jumped up and hurried toward her. Pulling her hand, he led her to sit between him and Patrick. Biting her lip, she couldn’t help the curious glances she shot the new men. One of them winked incorrigibly at her.

  “And these are our friends, Regan and Conlin,” Sim told her as he laced his fingers through hers.

  The newcomers nodded greeting at her. One had hair as black-brown as her guys and the other had light brown, spiky hair and intense, aqua-blue eyes.

  Though they were on leave and were dressed in jeans, they wore drab olive T-shirts. Their dog tags hung between well-developed pecs.

  Suddenly, she was even more thankful she’d been blindfolded the first time with them. She might have been terrified by the fours walls of muscle coming at her. Even now, she felt more than a little overwhelmed. Seeing the four of them all in one place, filling the space with bulging muscles and oozing testosterone, had every ion of her being pinging around, reaching for one then the other of the group.

  She squeezed Sim’s hand, using him as an anchor as she acclimated to the sea of manhood.

  The man with the twinkling blue eyes grinned. She couldn’t tell, but she thought he might be slightly larger than the other guy.

  “I’m Conlin,” he told her, breaking the silence that had fallen as they’d assessed one another. This was the one who’d commanded her to open her mouth. She felt heat rushing into her face at the carnal memory. His gaze darkened and she suspected he was remembering the moment. “I didn’t scare you, did I, sweetheart?”

  “Maybe for a moment,” she admitted. Her shoulder lifted. “It was good.”

  “That’s definitely what we like to hear,” said the other man. He had whiskey-brown eyes that picked up the slightest bit of green from his shirt. “I’m Regan, by the way, but you probably guessed that.”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you taste spectacular, ma’am.”

  The other three men groaned. Conlin smacked his friend’s arm. “That’s just like you—all crass and polite in one sentence.”

  “Well, thank you, I guess,” Verity laughed, feeling self conscious but glad for the light-heartedness around her. “I don’t think anyone’s actually even told me that before.”

  Regan leveled a dark stare on Patrick and Sim. “Cretins.”

  “Hey!” they protested.

  “I don’t know. I think it applies,” Conlin cut in. “Last time I saw you, some girl was kicking your ass.”

  “You can’t hold that against me. I was drunk,” Sim laughed. “I’d just met her and her boyfriend, and they both liked me. Kicking my ass was foreplay for her. I think she was some sort of Dominatrix or something. I don’t know for sure. I did know I had a one hundred percent chance of getting laid. Whether of not I enjoyed it was a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “And who did you end up with?” Conlin asked.

  “None of your fucking business,” Sim retorted.

  Regan coughed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” he muttered behind his hand, and they all laughed.

  “Maybe you can read about it in my next book,” Sim told him.

  “He writes military thrillers,” Patrick told Verity. “Apparently, he saw far more covert action than the rest of us. ‘Course, these two are still in and can’t talk about it.”

  “Well, we could,” Regan offered, “but then we’d have to kill you.”

  “I’ll wait for the book.” She turned to Sim. “Under covers action, you say?”

  “I didn’t say,” he said indignantly then smirked. “Sex sells, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “It’s never as interesting as books and movies try to make it,” Patrick added.

  “What exactly are you implying?” Sim bristled. “Perhaps you need a demonstration.”

  “So Patrick suggested a picnic,” Regan cut in.

  “Cool,” she replied, glad for a change in subject. Sim and Patrick needed to work things out, but not publically. She looked down at the dress robe she’d worn down. “If someone will go get my suitcase from my car over at the garage, I’ll get ready.”

  * * * *

  The group took two vehicles to the Flying D. Patrick had called the ranch to arrange the rides as soon as she’d agreed to a picnic. They’d picked up a fried chicken meal and drinks from Leena’s Diner to bring with them.

  Leaving the house, Verity saw her car up on the hoist and ire dodged through her. Damn, Patrick. There was nothing wrong with the Sentra, yet the tires were off and one of the garage employees stood beneath it, reaching up into the undercarriage.

  She would have berated Patrick about it, but she’d chosen to ride with Conlin and Regan so Patrick and Sim could discuss what was going on between them. From what she could see of the car ahead of them, neither man was speaking. Pushing aside her worry, she asked Regan and Conlin about their tours and found they’d been stationed all over the world during the twelve years they’d been in the service.

  “And you’re a couple?” she finally asked.

  “Not out or anything,” Conlin replied. “Things aren’t that liberal yet.”

  “Never will be,” Regan put in. “Being liberal might undermine discipline. They’re all about that. I suspect our superior knows, but he pretends not to. It helps that we’re very into women.”

  “We’re very into you,” his partner added. “Can’t wait to be in you again.”

  “Do you think we’ll find a secluded place to picnic?”

  Verity squirmed on the backseat, the seam of her jeans seeming too tight against her clit. How the hell was she supposed to ride a horse? Hopefully, the steed wouldn’t be spooked by the extreme arousal still pounding through her.

  “Maybe,” she said. She tucked her lip between her teeth a moment then bit the bullet and let them know the attraction wasn’t one-sided. “I hope so. I remember some places from when I was younger. My best friend, Briar, used to live on the Flying D.”

  “Where does she live now?”

  “Chicago, last I heard. We kinda lost touch when I left here before—Oh! Up there,” she interrupted herself. “See that turnoff the guys are taking? There’s the road leading into Flying D.”

  It was heavily wooded here and easy to miss. Once they got further in, there would be large expanses of pastureland, but before that, they appeared to be jaunting down the road to Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma’s in the middle of nowhere. And she had four big, bad wolves along with her—two of them mighty cranky.

  The Flying D was the largest of the ranches in these parts. Most of the spreads specialized in cattle, but the Flying D was renowned for breeding some of the best horse stock in the country.

  Soon, the main house came into view. Robert Daly came out immediately, jogging down the steps to meet them—her, it seemed. He made a beeline for her and pulled her into a tight hug. If he wasn’t so much of a brother to her, she might have been attracted to him. A descendant of the founder of Daly, he was just a little older than she was. She, Robert and Briar had essentially grown up together�
��until Briar’s mom, the housekeeper at Flying D had uprooted her daughter and moved her from the state. Verity hadn’t been around, but she guessed it had torn up the man who held her. He’d always been sweet on Briar.

  “Hey squirt,” he greeted her, tussling her hair. His own black hair now had silver in it despite his being close to her age. “’Bout time you came home. Must be the month for prodigals to return to the fold.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Briar’s coming home next week.”

  Joy leapt through her—until she remembered she probably wouldn’t be here next week. “I hope I get to see her.”

  “I’m certain she’ll make sure of it.”

  Casually, Patrick pulled her to his side, perhaps silently asserting a claim. She almost rolled her eyes. There was no claim. She’d be leaving soon.

  “Are the horses ready?” he asked after greeting her old friend and introduced him to Conlin and Regan. Robert already knew Sim since he rented workspace from him.

  “Ready and waiting,” Robert told them with a grin. “The crew’s out fixing jack-fences in the south acreage.” He pointed to the trees and slopes to the west. “If you ride that way, you should have privacy. I put loaded rifles in the saddles. You shouldn’t run into anything but we do have coyotes and other wild critters, so keep a weapon near you. I’ll help you load your things.”

  “Glad he didn’t say gun,” Regan murmured near her ear. “I’d be distraught if I lost that. But I would like to sheath it soon.”

  She gave him an amused half-laugh. “You’re bad.”

  “And you’re very, very good. Con and I never thought we’d be so lucky.”

  His words warmed her as they prepped the horses. She knew what awaited when they got to the picnic site.

  A half hour later, they were on their way. As if protecting her from some big, bad monster, two of the guys rode in front of her and two behind. That was fine with her. It gave her time to think—though watching Sim and Patrick’s less than good horsemanship made her happy. It was nice to know they weren’t skilled at everything. They hadn’t improved since the three of them had dated ten years ago.

  To her surprise, Conlin rode up beside her and plucked her from the horse she’d been riding. Regan moved forward to claim the reins of her horse. She and Con took up the rear, falling back a little as he slowed the horse to a sedate walk.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked.

  “Kissing you.” He turned her so she straddled his legs. The saddle was plenty big enough for both of them as he scooted back. Keeping hold of the horse with one hand, he wrapped his other arm around her then slanted his mouth over hers. She moaned as he expertly delved inside. She sucked on his tongue, drawing him deeper. Her body seemed to soften as she leaned into him.

  When she pulled back from a lingering kiss, she realized they’d stopped all together. “Patrick and Sim are going to be pissed,” she told him.

  “Good, maybe it will snap them out of the funk they’re in. You’re the only thing making it at all tolerable.”

  “Thank you, I guess. So…I’m a means to an end?”

  “And what a lovely end,” he joked. Then he turned serious. “Really, you’re not a tool to manipulate them. What the hell is their problem?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s not my situation to tell.” She wished she could, especially since she felt as if she were responsible for bringing it on.

  “Hmm…” he remarked. “So Sim finally told him? About bloody time. The man’s been pining after Patrick for years.”

  She blinked up at him in surprise, “You knew that?”

  Conlin laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re old drinking buddies. And Sim can’t hold alcohol.”

  “He’s lucky other people didn’t find out!”

  “Reg and I protected him. And he rarely drinks which is a good thing. But enough about that.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her back to him. “You know…when Regan and I leave here, you could come with us. My mama would love you—so would Regan and I, of course.”

  She gasped, shocked by the proposal. “I-I can’t.”

  “I guess being with two guys who love you as opposed to two guys who just lust after you has more allure. At least, we can be together until Reg and I leave.”

  “Love?” she repeated, stuck on that.

  “Turn around and take a look and tell me they don’t.”

  Trepidation rolling in her belly, she peeked over her shoulder and saw Patrick and Sim a few horse lengths away. The scowls on their faces couldn’t be mistaken. They didn’t like that she’d fallen behind with Conlin. They saw her as theirs. Of course, that didn’t mean they loved her.

  She turned back to Conlin and shrugged. “This is a full opportunity weekend, right. All four of you can have me.”

  “Sort of. And no. They made it very clear that you belong to them and that you’re in their care. And we only have access to you with permission. I just broke the rules. I’ll probably get voted off the island.”

  She bristled. She didn’t think so. She might have a connection with Sim and Patrick and she might have a soul desire to be with them, even if it couldn’t happen because of her job, but they in no way would dictate who she could and couldn’t be with. Not when they’d given her Conlin and Regan to fuck and not when there was no commitment between any of them—at least not to her.

  Reaching up, she pulled down Conlin’s head and kissed him hard. Groaning, he opened for her. She pulled his shirt from his pants and pushed her hands up underneath, splaying them on his back.

  “Maybe if I’d met you first,” she muttered against his lips. “You make me feel…mmm…” She sighed as he cupped her breast. He plucked at the crest while he took her mouth again. He felt so good. She wished she felt more for him than arousal. They could be good together; she could practice veterinary medicine. But that wasn’t a basis for a long term relationship—there had to be feelings. Maybe if they had more time together.

  “Honey, you make me feel mmm too,” he chuckled. He nipped her bottom lip.

  “Excuse me,” Patrick said dryly behind her shoulder.

  Conlin lifted his head. “Oh sorry. Did you lose something?”

  “Bad,” Verity chided, pushing his shoulder. Patrick reached out his arms and beckoned her to him, and she gladly went. She settled against Patrick, breathing in his clean scent as he urged his horse away from Conlin. Sim had already disappeared down the path, apparently content to let Patrick take care of things—or avoiding discussion.

  Patrick kissed her temple and she understood clearly why she hadn’t been with other men while she’d been away—she wasn’t that busy—and why she hadn’t seriously considered Conlin’s suggestion. She was connected to Patrick in a way unlike any man, save for Sim. The closest comparison she had for it was the sex they’d had this afternoon—so close, literally connected, a little painful, amazingly pleasurable, moving and breathing as one.

  It was that unity that had terrified her when she was younger. Why would she want to do anything but be with them when she was so consumed by them? She had the same concern now, but she knew she was better equipped to handle herself now.

  “Don’t kick him off the island,” Verity murmured, hugging her arms around his waist.

  “It looked like you were ready to vote us off the island.”

  “You are the island, Patrick. You and Sim.”

  He lifted her chin and kissed her. “Maybe I won’t spank you.”

  She snorted. “I thought you weren’t mad. Now, you’re threatening to take away my fun. I bet Conlin would spank me.”

  “I bet Conlin would get his lights knocked out if he lifted a hand to you, even in sex games.”

  Patrick had always been protective in that arena. Even Sim had never done that. But whenever Patrick had… Her pussy throbbed at the memory. It had always turned out nice. Every minute she was with them, she remembered more of her time with them, more of what it had been
like.

  “Patrick…” she ventured. “If this wasn’t just for the weekend, if I wasn’t leaving, what would you do?”

  He took a deep breath and his arms tightened around her. “I’d wake up with you in my bed for the rest of my life.”

  Tears pricked her eyes at the tenderness. And she bit her lip to control her shuddery breathing. “What about Sim?” she asked.

  “Sim and I need to work things out.”

  “Can you?” she asked. “He loves you, you know? This isn’t a phase. He’s wanted you for a long time.”

  Well, that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Patrick had been in a muddle since Sim had made his interest known. For the life of him, he didn’t know what to do. He just hadn’t had time to think about and assimilate to the situation. Admittedly, he realized he had feelings for his friend—feelings he hadn’t before acknowledged. He’d reflected on that the few times he’d been alone today, but he was sure he didn’t feel attraction to other men. Was that possible? To have attraction to only one man? Was he truly bisexual?

  He just wanted to bury his head in his hands and think.

  Verity kissed his neck, bringing him back to the moment. “You’re thinking really loudly. I think if you get any tenser, the horse will freak out.”

  The problem was that he didn’t know what to think.

  “It’ll work out,” she said, her fingers moving up and down his lower back. Patrick shifted her so she was straddling him the way she had been with Conlin. The man had a good idea there. Verity looped her arms around his neck, the devil in her eyes. Watching him, she rolled her pelvis into his. It wasn’t an ideal position to stimulate her, but she sure as hell was making his cock hard as rock.

  “You’re gonna make this picnic difficult,” he warned.

  “Like we’re really going to eat,” she retorted. “I’ve given you guys until Monday; Conlin and Regan are leaving tomorrow night. Other than hydration, I doubt food will be much of a thought.” She sighed, pressing her head to his shoulder and apparently unaware how her mention of Monday disturbed him. “Do you remember how you, Sim and me used to come up here?”