Lexi's Untamed Cowboys [Casanova Cowboys] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rhea Regale

  Travis nodded once, a sad glint to his dark eyes. “I’ll get you somewhere safe for the time you’re here. ’Kay?”

  “Thanks.”

  He chuckled, his smile spreading full-mouth. She stared, struck by how perfect his smile was, how white his teeth were, and how handsome it made him.

  “No need for thanks, Lexi. Be honest with me. You need something, you holler, got it? We run differently out here in the country. Dirty dealings aren’t our forte.”

  Lexi found herself scooting to the edge of her seat as Travis navigated through the perfect portrayal of small-town America. Wooden signs hung over the old-fashioned storefronts, swaying in a light breeze that didn’t seem to reach the wheat fields a short distance back. Neatly pruned maple trees lined the sidewalk, casting shade where second-story balconies did not. Colorful wooden benches sat against an ice cream parlor’s walls, occupied by a small group of children and a couple of moms. One of the women waved as they drove by, and Travis issued another half wave.

  “Wow, quaint little place,” Lexi murmured. Travis laughed. She turned away from a storefront decorated with quilts to look at him.

  “A little different from what you’re used to?” He spread his hand out before him. “No Saks Fifth Ave here, baby. We’ve got Mrs. Kindle’s Bakery, Scarlet Pearson’s Seamstress Shop, and Mick’s Hardware.” He pointed to a small park at the corner of the road. Children ran through ornate fountains. Couples walked down the cottonwood-lined paths that wound along the lush green grass. A gigantic bronze statue of a man in nineteenth-century attire stood at the entrance to the grounds. “Ryder Park.”

  “Who is Ryder?”

  “George Ryder was the founding father of this town over a hundred years ago. He built it up as cattle country. Slowly incorporated more than just a ranch. His youngest children opened up specialty shops to accommodate travelers passin’ through. His eldest son took over the family business.” Travis veered down the road following the park. “About two miles up from here, you’ll come to Ryder Ranch. A modern-day dude ranch. It’s a popular vacationing spot. Ryder allows guests to watch how they work cattle, but keeps the cattle ranch separate from tourists. We’ve got money in the herds.”

  “So one man owns this entire town?”

  “A good portion of it. The ranch is his. The wheat fields and corn fields are his. Ah, Miss Bess is home. Great!”

  Travis pulled the truck into a horseshoe-shaped driveway in front of a beautiful old Victorian. Two couples occupied the front porch, one on the swing in deep conversation, two in the rocking chairs reading magazines. Lexi turned to Travis as he pushed open his door and unfurled onto his feet. She blinked. He arched his back and tipped his Stetson a fraction lower on his forehead, but her gaze barely came away from the long, lithe legs encased in fitted blue jeans leading up to a firm, round ass. Her throat went dry. This time, she couldn’t blame the heat.

  Lexi’s gaze followed him around the front of the truck until he approached her door and pulled it open. Like any Southern gentleman, at least the ones she’d envisioned throughout her life, Travis held out his hand and assisted her from the high cab.

  “Leave the shoes. You’ll be just fine barefoot,” he assured, that damn asphalt-melting smile turned up at her.

  Lexi slung her bag over her shoulder and took a selfish moment to drink this man in. He was tall, a solid head taller than she, and decadently proportioned beneath his flannel shirt and jeans. He had the sleeves rolled to his elbows, well-muscled forearms bronzed from hours in the sun. Now, standing in the late afternoon sunlight, she could make out the rugged cuts of his handsome face and the hint of muscle down to where he left his shirt buttoned.

  An itch ignited between her legs. She shifted, trying to extinguish it out of acknowledgement. She’d be leaving as soon as her car was fixed, a day or two at most.

  “Come on,” Travis said, leading her around the door and closing it behind her. He ushered her up the stairs, his solid frame maneuvering around her as the sitters spied her with curiosity and skepticism. Hell, she would scrutinize herself if she were one of them. He leaned past her and opened the screen door into the sweet-smelling house.

  “Miss Bess? You in the kitchen?” Travis called. He rounded her, held up a finger, and said quietly, “Give me a minute.”

  Lexi watched Travis, in all his hot glory, disappear down the hallway and through a door. The looming, polished wood staircase in front of her stretched up to the second story, where another hallway disappeared into shadows. To her left, a cozy sitting room with a small fireplace and a deep window seat. Rich yellow sunlight drizzled in through lacy curtains. To her right, the house opened into a large living room that led into another room, and finally into a screened-in patio.

  She moved to a small table and fingered through the different brochures laid out. Breathtaking photography decorated the colorful covers of some, while others were plain sheets of paper advertising some local this or that. She picked up a postcard advertising a honky-tonk a short drive away.

  Voices echoed down the hallway, soon followed by the click-click of boots and laughter. Lexi straightened up, tugging down her tight skirt, and turned toward the approaching voices. Travis reappeared, and with him, a stout woman with graying hair tied into a bun, rosy cheeks, and a friendly glitter in her eyes. Her attention landed on Lexi, and for the briefest of moments, she wasn’t sure if the woman would kick her out or barrel over to her with a hug.

  “Young man, you need to stop picking daisies from the side of the road!” The woman broke out in warm laughter. Travis chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. Lexi didn’t miss the appraising crawl of his gaze as it slid over her.

  The woman clapped her hands together, the creases in her fingers etched with flour. “I hear my nephew found ya playin’ in wheat. Come, come. I’m Bess. My guests all call me Miss Bess.” Lexi met the woman’s reaching hands. “I’ve brewed fresh tea. Let me get you a nice, cold glass. I was in the midst of making pie for dessert. I’ll be sure George sets up three extra plates.”

  “Three?” Lexi cast a glance toward Travis as Miss Bess pulled her into the kitchen. Travis leaned against the doorjamb, his booted foot propping the door open.

  “Travis is gonna get Brent to tow your car to the shop and join us for dinner. I’ll get you set up in a room.” The jubilant demeanor drained from Miss Bess’s face. Her warm brown eyes scoured Lexi from head to toe. Her lips twisted. “No, no. You need some clothes. Travis, dear, can you head over to Scarlet’s and see if she has anything left behind by Mandy? Alexis is about her size.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, and maybe some of Mary’s peaches?” Miss Bess smiled back at Travis. Lexi found her upbeat attitude catchy and smiled at him as well. “I’ll make peach melba.”

  Travis tipped his hat with his thumb and forefinger, his shadowed eyes landing on Lexi. His intense gaze worked beneath her skin, stroking an unexpected arousal awake.

  “My pleasure.”

  Chapter Two

  Brent Standon slid from beneath the car and wiped the dripping sweat from his brow. Oil and grease stained his bare arms, sweat and grease his chest. Strands of hair had fallen loose of his elastic, plastering themselves to his cheeks and neck.

  The familiar sound of heavy tires crunching over gravel and dirt drew him to his feet. He glanced at his watch. Half-hour late. Damn the man for leaving him rock hard all this time. Fixing the old Chevy’s transmission did nothing to deter his stiff cock.

  Travis cut the engine and rolled out of his pickup. Instantly, Brent noted a different air about him. His light gait. The boyish grin. He loved that grin, especially the moments before Travis went down on him.

  No, this was different.

  Travis’s long, easy strides didn’t slow, each step increasing the pace of Brent’s heart, until he stood with his clothed chest pressed to Brent’s naked one. Travis grabbed his head, and his mouth slanted over his. Brent groaned into the kiss, the powerful thrust of
Travis’s tongue claiming his attention and melting away his frustration. There was nothing delicate or soft in Travis’s kiss. Raw strength and power plundered his mouth with each demanding stroke of Travis’s rough tongue.

  “I came across the most beautiful woman while checking the crop for damages,” Travis murmured. Brent closed his eyes, absorbing the hot swirl of Travis’s tongue along his neck. “City gal, runnin’ from someone.”

  His fingers tugged at Brent’s jeans, popping open the button and ripping down the fly. He scraped teeth down Brent’s chest, pausing to nip his nipple. Brent hissed, arching his back and urging more of his lover’s lazy strokes. Travis slid his callused hands down Brent’s jeans, molding his fingers and palms around his ass, and squeezed. Brent’s restrained cock pressed into Travis’s narrow hip. He sucked Brent’s nipple to a pebbled roundness and tugged back with his teeth. Brent gasped, tiny contractions hitting his lower gut. His dick twitched, leaking cream against his denim.

  “Thinkin’ we may have found that woman to complete us,” Travis said, hot breath splaying across his sweat-sheened chest. He dipped lower, kneading Brent’s ass as he drew a trail of kisses down the valley of his abs. His tongue swirled around his belly button then flicked against the divot. Sparks of heat burned through him.

  “A woman would be nice,” Brent said, tipping his head to watch Travis lower himself to his knees. Travis tugged Brent’s jeans off his waist and worked them down to his knees.

  “Aw, look at you. You’ve been waiting for me,” Travis teased. That sinful grin curled his finely chiseled lips. He took his Stetson off, his dark eyes glittering as they lifted to Brent’s.

  “Damn near gone mad. Better do something ’bout it.”

  Brent combed his fingers through Travis’s thick, sandy hair, the summer heat matting his usually soft locks to his head. The edges curled at his nape and around his ears. Brent fisted his fingers against his skull and tipped his head toward his jutting cock.

  Travis grabbed the hard cock burning for attention, the roughness of his fingers eliciting jolts of pleasure that spun into coils. Brent leaned back on the hood of the car, staring down at his lover and his smirking grin. The summer afternoon intensified the scent of his musk, mixing delightfully with sweat and spice. Something about this man after a day in the field or fresh from the barns always sparked him to hardness, like the turn of a key in a good ol’ American muscle car. Travis was American muscle—hard-packed, strong muscle—and he knew how to rev Brent’s engine.

  Travis stroked his hand up and down Brent’s cock. The slow burn pulsed fire in his groin that spread out to his thighs and up to his chest.

  “Would you give a woman a chance with your cock?” Travis asked. He leaned in and flicked his tongue against Brent’s wide crown, licking the droplet of pre-cum from his slit. “You taste heavenly. No better way to quench a man’s thirst.” That glitter darkened to a mischievous glow. “Although it’s been some time since we’ve had good pussy.”

  “Goin’ on two years,” Brent said, his jaw tightening at the very idea of drinking from a woman’s cunt. Since he and Travis began their secret affair, talk of women escaped them. They’d become too enraptured in each other to imagine reverting back to their old ways, even if they could pluck any woman they wanted.

  God knew they had enough women who flocked around them, waiting for an invitation to their beds.

  Brent shoved his hips forward, silently urging Travis to take his aching cock. The man continued to stroke him like a damn cat flapping its tail as it basked in the sun. Way too fuckin’ slow.

  When Travis lifted his other hand and cupped his balls, Brent growled.

  “Travis, I want your mouth on my cock, sucking me until I come for you. We can talk about this woman later.”

  “Sure.” Travis tipped his cock upward. “I’m gonna suck these heavy balls of yours first. You’re always so anxious to orgasm, I often neglect them.”

  Travis leaned in and licked his sac. The torturous heat curled around the base of his spine, tightening his muscles. Travis lapped at him, his palm gliding up and down the underside of his cock.

  “Salty goodness, Brent. You know how much I love the taste of your skin after you’ve been working in the sun?” Travis pressed his lips to his sac and gently sucked him into his mouth. Brent barked, the pleasure sprouting into a geyser of heady delight. He undulated his hips, seeking more friction against Travis’s hand. Maddening tingles ping-ponged through him as Travis played with his balls, rolling them between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

  “Hell on fire, Trav.” Brent felt juice squeeze from his cock, the pressure mounting in his lower gut, growing and growing with each second as Travis toyed with his sac and palmed his length. “Aw, shit. I’m gonna come.”

  Travis pulled away, leaving his sac to hang between his legs, the hot afternoon breeze lending a bit of coolness to his moist skin. Brent shot him a look, silently warning him to finish what he started.

  When his lover opened his own jeans and pulled out his rigid cock, Brent let out a long breath. The large, bulbous head glistened with moisture. The masculine ridges down his long shaft were taut, his dick engorged and thick and goddamn appetizing.

  “I know we said I’m on my knees for you, but I want to come with you,” Travis said, fisting his cock in one hand, ringing the base of Brent’s with his other. He lifted to his knees and tugged Brent to him.

  Travis’s lips slid over the head of his cock, teasing moisture from his slit. The tip of his tongue laved his juice then slowly drew him into the molten cavern of his mouth. Brent groaned and dropped his head back as Travis followed his hand down the length of Brent’s cock. His teeth gently scraped his shaft. Brent shuddered, the coiling tension building in his lower gut, spreading fire through his balls and down his erection.

  “Suck harder, Travis. You know I like it hard,” Brent demanded through clenched teeth. His fingers curled tighter in his hair. Travis pumped his mouth along his cock, his tongue swirling. He swallowed him deep, his head pressing firmly against the back of his throat. “Fuck, Travis. I’m burnin’, and it ain’t from this hellish heat.”

  Travis sucked hard. Tremors skated through Brent’s legs as his lover’s mouth drew back, the pinching suction mind-blowing. Tingles of pleasure bolted from his dick to dance in his belly and shoot up along his spine.

  Brent thrust his cock into Travis’s mouth, earning a vibrating grunt that strummed the sensitive vein beneath his shaft. “Ah, yes. That’s it.” Brent pulled back then rocked into him again. “Again, Trav. Again.”

  He looked down at Travis, the man’s dark eyes glowing with seductive hunger as he stared up at Brent. His fist worked his own cock at a rough pace, matching the deep strokes of his mouth. Brent fought for breath as the tension in his cock began to burst each seam of his being. His balls drew tight, liquid fire pouring upward.

  The explosion rocked him, shredding his muscles. He howled out, the blinding ecstasy thrashing him in the arms of pure pleasure. Splatters of white light stained his vision. The furious rush of blood deafened him. Shudder after shudder quaked him, semen spurting in powerful waves from the tip of his cock.

  Travis moaned, heightening the pleasure, heightening his orgasm. His lover drank him in deeper and deeper, the reverberating moans tickling, holding him at his peak. Travis trembled, his mouth quivering against him.

  Brent glanced down as his orgasm slowly subsided, leaving him weak and gasping for air. Travis pumped and pumped, spurts of thick white semen pooling between Brent’s legs.

  Travis released Brent’s cock and braced himself on his fists, his head hung. Brent stepped away from Travis’s cum and, with aid from the Chevy, lowered himself to Travis’s side. He draped an arm around his lover’s shoulder, tremors resonating in each fine-tuned muscle.

  Brent nuzzled his face in the crook of Travis’s neck and kissed him softly. “I love you, Trav. I’m lucky to have you.”

  “Damn, Brent, I love you, too,”
Travis said on a heavy breath. He wedged a hand beneath Brent’s chin and turned his head in for a kiss. Brent met each eager sweep of his tongue. His juice lingered in Travis’s mouth, adding a musky, erotic note to his usual masculine taste. Drinking the essence of himself from the lips of his lover was a delicacy he indulged.

  Exhausted, both from a long day in the Kansas heat and a furious romp with Travis, Brent tapered off their kiss and climbed to his feet. He yanked his jeans up, refastened the button and fly, and helped Travis next to him. He retrieved the hat from the ground and handed it to his man.

  Travis dusted off the brim and placed it back on his head. He gingerly wiped the corners of his mouth and fixed his own clothing.

  “Who is this gal you mentioned?” Brent asked.

  “Alexis Barrett. Her car’s on the interstate, broken down. I was comin’ back from my rounds when I saw it.” Travis’s mouth tipped up in one of his handsome half grins. “I set her up with Miss Bess for the time it takes to fix her car.”

  “You need a tow?” Brent asked. He tugged the band from his hair, smoothing the strands in a neat ponytail. Travis nodded. “Know what’s wrong with it?”

  “No idea. Didn’t stop to look.” He chuckled. “The sweet gal was hidin’ in the wheat field. Riled my suspicions she’s being tagged.”

  Brent nodded once, allowing the news to sink in. A gal on the run in their little town of Ryder? What could she be runnin’ from?

  He knocked on the Chevy’s hood and smiled. “Let’s go get ’er. I’ll see what I can figure out before the sun goes down.”

  Chapter Three

  Dom Gagliardi stared out into the Hudson. On this clear evening, the gentle ripples of water against the dockside melted into the black of night.

  His phone buzzed against his leg. He pulled it out and connected the call, ignoring the faraway echo of sirens and honking horns.