Labor Day in Lusty, Texas [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “It’s beautiful. I…thank you. How…”

  The men just shook their heads and smiled. Abigail recalled Michael excusing himself as they’d enjoyed a break in the tea room during their shopping earlier, and she recalled that look between the men as she was talking about the jewelry and how it shined.

  She also recalled how rich they were. She didn’t want to insult them, but she needed to make one thing perfectly clear. “I really don’t expect gifts, you know.”

  “We do know.” Carson’s expression turned serious. “But we need to give them to you, baby, so you best just be getting used to it.”

  “I don’t know if I can ever get used to being with the two of you. You’re both so much more…everything…than I ever expected.”

  “I guess that makes us even,” Carson said.

  “Because you are so much more than we’d dreamed you’d be.” Michael’s soft words went straight to her heart.

  In that moment Abigail knew she’d fallen in love with these two men.

  * * * *

  “There are times when I seriously wonder about our genes,” Carson said. He had Abby’s hand snugly in his as they exited the theater.

  “It is a consideration,” Michael said. “But in our defense, we tried to avoid that first-date pitfall the old men fell into with their Bernice, only I think we focused on the wrong criteria. We avoided the one western that was playing, and now I’m thinking it wasn’t the genre of the movie they took Bernice to that had been the problem.”

  Abby turned slightly, and Carson watched her face as she looked from him to his brother.

  “What on earth are you two talking about?”

  Carson shook his head and drew Abby into his arms. He’d take every opportunity to wrap her in a hug. The way she sighed—and sighed even louder on those occasions when Michael joined in and they sandwiched her—he knew hugs were just one more thing she’d rarely experienced in her young life.

  “Our older brothers had a similar disaster when they took their Bernice to the movies on their first date.” Carson sighed. “Michael and I are sorry we insisted we see Capone, instead of the movie you wanted to see. I think we all would have been happier if we had opted for your pick.” He nodded. “In retrospect, Funny Lady would have been a better choice.”

  “You didn’t enjoy the film?” Abby’s gaze appeared clear, guileless, and he tried to read her, tried to decide if she was having him on or not.

  “What was there to enjoy?” Michael sounded irritated, and Carson knew that irritation was self-directed. He’d wanted to see that film as much as Carson had. “There wasn’t much plot, just a lot of violence and repetitive car chase scenes. I’ve been to Chicago. There are certainly more than four street corners in the Windy City.” Michael huffed out a breath. “About the only thing they got right in that film was the date of the St. Valentine’s Day massacre.”

  Carson watched their woman as Michael aired his peeves. There, right there. That little sparkle in her eye. By the expression on her face, Carson knew it was all she could do not to laugh out loud.

  Michael looked at Abby, who responded by stepping in and up and placing a sweet-looking kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry you didn’t like the movie, Michael. It was everything you said…but I couldn’t help remembering that Maude loved Ben Gazzara. She faithfully watched him when he was on television—in Arrest and Trial and then, a bit later, in Run For Your Life. If there was a Ben Gazzara movie playing, she’d go to see it. She even told me once she’d actually gone all the way to New York City, just so she could see him on Broadway.”

  “So, you didn’t mind the movie?” Carson asked.

  Abby laughed softly. “It was truly atrocious,” she said. “That young actor who played Capone’s bodyguard showed promise, though. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him in other movies in the future.”

  Michael tilted his head. “Yes, he did. Can’t say I’ve ever seen him before. I don’t know if I even caught his name on the credits. I must confess, by the time they rolled, my eyes were closed.”

  “Sylvester Stallone,” Caleb said. He tended to note those sorts of details.

  Abby frowned. “Hmm. Talented, but saddled with an unfortunate name. Sylvester? I wonder if it’s even his real name.”

  “Who knows?” Michael asked. “There’s not much that’s real in Hollywood anymore.”

  It didn’t take long to make their way to the car in the parking lot. Carson calculated a twenty-minute ride, at most, back to the apartment. There wasn’t much traffic at this time of night. Abby settled in between them. Carson took her left hand in his right and let his gaze drift over her as they were waiting at a stoplight. She didn’t appear to be at all sleepy. As if sensing his regard, she turned and met his gaze.

  “You don’t look tired.”

  “We had that lovely nap earlier, so I’m not.”

  “Excellent. I was thinking that, once we get back to the apartment, we could…play.”

  The traffic light changed, and he resumed driving, but not before he caught the light of interest in her eyes.

  “Play what, exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you trust us?”

  He sensed Michael looking at him and, when he took a quick glance in his direction, realized that his younger brother was smiling.

  He flicked his glance back to Abby.

  “Yes, I do trust you. Both of you.”

  “Excellent. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” Carson didn’t have a complete plan, not yet. But he was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, a man used to thinking on his feet. On my feet. Yes, that has definite possibilities.

  He wheeled the car into its slot beside Michael’s Mustang and made a mental note to secure another parking spot, in anticipation of Abby bringing her vehicle here next weekend. He held her hand as he led the way toward the elevator. And when the apartment door closed and the lock clicked in place, he walked with her through the entrance hall until they reached the dining room. He turned her into his arms and kissed her.

  Passion for her simmered constantly just below the surface, a relentless gnawing hunger that showed him facets of himself he’d never known existed. Something about this woman stirred in him a primitive need to conquer and possess, yes, but also to protect and pamper. He’d never known he could have such strong, and yet divergent emotions for a woman.

  I didn’t know I’d have them for the woman.

  Her flavor flooded him, more potent than the best scotch, and Carson drank and drank until he felt her knees go weak, until that element of her surrender awoke his feral man.

  He lifted his lips from hers, spun her around, and pressed on her back until her chest was on the table, her body bent from the waist, leaving her delectable ass at just the right height for his pleasure—and hers.

  He gathered both of her hands and used only one of his own to hold them behind her back. “Have you ever been taken like this? Bent over a table, held captive while clothing is simply moved out of the way just enough so that you can easily be fucked from behind?”

  He felt the shiver and heard the hiss of her breath. Her eyes nearly glazed with her arousal, and a soft, whispery “no” escaped her lips.

  “Good.” He began to gather her skirt in his hand. Mine. “You’re about to be.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A thrilling shiver racked Abigail as Carson lifted her skirt, exposing the panties and garter belt she wore. Her clothing-covered breasts pressed against the unforgiving wood of the table, and her hands were held behind her back. When Carson used a leg to spread hers wider, she gushed her excitement onto her panties.

  As if knowing her state of arousal, he brushed his hand over the cotton covering her slit.

  “Mmm. You’re wet for us.”

  She felt her face color. Blatant sexual talk was new to her, but she couldn’t deny the words did more than make her blush. They excited her in a way she couldn’t explain. Abigail never imagined such a thing could happen, b
ut there it was.

  “Perhaps our woman enjoys being restrained.” Those words shocked her all the more because Michael, with his softer, less dominant voice, had said them.

  “Definitely something for us to investigate.” Carson pressed his lower half against her bottom. She could feel the unmistakable outline of his erect cock despite the fact he had his pants still in place.

  “Here, use this.” Michael’s voice.

  Carson leaned slightly toward his brother.

  Abigail heard a metallic click and wondered what Michael had just given Carson. She felt a tug at her hip, and shock washed through her.

  “Did you just cut my panties off me?” The cool air brushed against the flesh of her hip and ass cheek. The sound of footsteps retreating told her Michael had left the dining room.

  “No, I only sliced through one side of them, for better access. Any clothing I ruin, I’ll replace.”

  His hand pushed what was left of her panties out of the way and then caressed her damp folds. Abigail’s labia softened, her body’s way of preparing her for what was to come. Her slit got even wetter. Her body loved what was happening, even if her mind was having a little trouble processing the reality of this situation.

  Michael’s return assured her he hadn’t exited the room because he felt left out. Though it was difficult for her to understand how he couldn’t feel jealous when…

  “Here’s something else you’re going to need, brother.” The sound of something small being tossed onto the table by her shoulder drew her attention. She spotted the condom just before a second male hand closed around her wrists.

  “Thank you, brother.” Carson released her hands, but she was still held in place—by Michael. Abigail felt as well as heard Carson step back, and the sound of trousers hitting the floor, belt and all, sent another shiver of need racing through her. She closed her eyes as the ensuing sounds of movement and preparation provided a perfect tableau to her mind, as she figuratively saw him tear open the condom and sheath himself.

  “Now let me see if you’re as ready for me as I think you are, Abby.”

  She moaned in response to his intimate touch, and when he hissed in a breath, probably in response to how wet she was, her arousal exploded.

  “Fuck, yes, you’re ready, aren’t you, my hot little honey? You want me to fuck you like this, don’t you?”

  Something let go inside Abigail, something she never would have guessed lay dormant within her, but something that must have been there all her life. The sensation of Carson’s latex-covered cock seeking its place between her folds, the power of his impassioned words washing over her finally set that something free.

  “Yes, damn you! I need your cock inside me. Fuck me! Fuck me hard and fast and deep! Ah!” Abigail’s last syllable was high pitched and fervent as Carson pushed his cock into her, impaling her pussy in one solid thrust.

  He hit deep inside her, causing a twinge of pain that felt so damn good, and Abby wondered at the difference a change in position could make. She would have said so, but her voice was gone, as was her reason. Only feeling remained, only this raw, burning demand within her for everything Carson Benedict could give her. She wanted that prize, that explosion of sensation and bliss she knew would be hers.

  She moved, countering his thrusts, hurrying the process.

  A sharp slap landed on her naked ass. “No, woman. Hold still and take what I give you.”

  “Ohmigod.”

  That slap, accompanied by that tone of voice, magically turned into the cherry on top of everything. As the heat of his slap spread through her, as she released her tension and her hold so she could do as he ordered, her horniness turned into a cauldron of boiling, roiling passion. That passion overflowed as ecstasy assailed her, wave after wave of bliss so huge, so total, she didn’t know how she could hold it all. Could a woman survive so much stimulation?

  Her climax continued through Carson’s curses, through his strong grip on her hips, and the sensation of his cock swelling. When he pushed and held himself deep inside her, his cock pulsed his orgasm as he ejaculated his cum into the condom.

  Carson trembled in the aftermath, a sensation that filled Abigail with raw, feminine power. She had done that to this strong man.

  “Do you have any idea how fucking hot that was to watch?” Michael bent low over her head and kissed her ear. “I need your mouth on my cock, drinking my cum.”

  Fresh shivers of arousal swept her. Bare seconds before, Abigail would have sworn she had nothing left to give, and now she needed to do what Michael requested.

  Requested? There’d been nothing soft or genteel in Michael Benedict’s manner. He hadn’t requested, he’d demanded.

  Carson inhaled deeply and straightened. “Fuck, I want to watch that.” He eased out of her and stepped back. What happened next simply sent even more thrills coursing through her. The men, working together, adjusted her position on the table, moving her closer to the edge of it, so that her mouth was available for Michael’s use.

  Carson took over holding her hands, and Michael dropped his pants. His cock, hard and fragrant, a single drop of jism emerging from its head, sent a fresh wave of longing through her.

  Abigail didn’t have much movement available to her, held as she was, but she had enough to lean her head closer and use her tongue to capture that pearly drop.

  She made an “mmm” sound and opened her mouth wide.

  “Suck my cock, Abby.” Michael stepped closer and slid his cock between her lips.

  She loved this, loved the sensation of his hard cock in her mouth, loved the taste of him and the feeling of her tongue sliding up and down his shaft. She wished she could cup his balls, but being held, not just with Carson’s hands on her wrists but now with Michael’s on her head, served as a sexy substitute.

  She’d never had sexual fantasies in her entire life, but at the moment, the vision arose of herself as a slave girl held captive by these two men, bound and forced to serve, to offer every part of herself for their pleasure. The image had flashed then vanished in the reality of a moment that was different but even more arousing than her imagination.

  Michael moved his cock in and out of her mouth, sliding in a rhythm that her own body soon adopted as she flexed her pelvic floor muscles. She felt dampness on the lips of her pussy, and when Carson slipped his hand between her legs, she moaned her appreciation around Michael’s cock.

  “Oh, fuck, baby.”

  Michael began to thrust faster if a little unevenly, and Abby knew, from the flavor on her tongue and way his cock felt larger in her mouth, that he was close. Instinct took over, and she formed her lips into an “O” around his erection, sucking slightly but leaving her tongue still. One hand left her head. She could see the way he used a thumb and forefinger at the base of his shaft. When she felt those digits bumping her chin she understood he protected her against the piston-like pummeling of his cock fucking her mouth.

  Michael cried out as the first stream of his jism hit the back of her throat. Abby sucked and swallowed, each pulse a gift of his pleasure, each gulp tangible proof that she’d served him well, drawn his pleasure from him, and reduced him to a gasping, shaking mass of male satisfaction.

  “Good God almighty, woman, you’re going to kill me. You have got one hell of a sexy mouth.”

  Carson moved his hands, sliding them under her and gently easing her up until she stood erect. She should have been done, ready to sleep. But she felt anything but tired.

  “What I have is a pussy in need of someone’s mouth.” She met Michael’s gaze then tilted her head back and looked up at Carson. “Is someone going to eat me or what?”

  “Hang on.”

  Apparently sexy talk worked on Carson Benedict, too. He must have already stepped out of his shoes and pants completely because he spun her around, lifted her over his shoulder, and headed to the bedroom.

  He laid her on the bed and then immediately set about stripping her. Once completely naked, Abigail threw he
r arms above her head, spread her legs, and let her gaze roam from one lover to the other. There were differences between these two men, physical differences that she took the opportunity to appreciate as, together, they tossed off what remained of their clothing. Carson was more muscular through his chest and arms and looked as if he even worked out at a gym on a regular basis. Michael’s physique was less iron-man, generally lither, making her wonder if he’d been an avid swimmer in his younger days. Carson’s chest sported more hair than his brother’s, but perhaps the fact it was darker than Michael’s blond dusting just made his more noticeable. Michael’s cock appeared slightly longer, less thick than his brother’s, but both seemed much larger than she’d even understood a man’s equipment could be. They were certainly much better endowed than her one previous lover.

  Lucky me.

  “Michael, I do believe we’ve uncovered a siren,” Carson said.

  “Lucky us.” Michael’s echo of her thoughts made her smile.

  As Carson headed toward the bathroom to deal with his condom, Michael returned her grin with a touch of added mischief. Then he crawled up the bed between her legs and laid his mouth on her pussy.

  Abigail arched as arousal ignited and soared with the first touch of his tongue. From playful to begging in a heartbeat, she wondered if indeed she’d become a siren—or a nymphomaniac. She couldn’t get enough of Michael or Carson and the delicious things they did to her.

  I wonder how many women become addicted to orgasms. The thought flitted through her mind, and then Carson was on the bed, kneeling beside her, holding her hands above her head and moving ever closer so that his cock, hard once more, was an inch from her mouth.

  It was the most erotic thing ever to suck Carson’s cock as Michael performed virtually the same service on her pussy. When he made his own “mmm” sounds against her wet intimate folds, she whimpered, and Carson groaned. Understanding dawned that he was showing her just how sexy that bit of play could be.

  Abigail tugged on her hands, and he released them. She cupped Carson’s balls with one hand and played the fingers of her other through Michael’s hair. Thoughts ceased. Emotion and sensation ruled, and Abigail surrendered as she took and she gave. The scent of their sex permeated the air around her, and she reveled in the rawness, in the earthiness of being a sensual being committed to this coital act.