Mercury, Karen - The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  * * * *

  Willow squealed with delight. She was so excited she wheeled away from her home office desk, rolling in her chair until she hit the wall. “Ahhhhh!” Like a little girl she squirmed with happiness then panted for a minute until she could roll back to the desk and look at the computer screen again.

  Yes. There she was. In her in-box. The Russian adoption agency had finally sent photos of her new daughter, Lavinia.

  With pounding heart, Willow’s hand reached for the mouse to click open the attachments. Things had been going well lately…too good to be true. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for some disaster to befall them. She had even come to grips with her weight. She knew she’d never be slender again as she was when she smoked cigarettes, but the beauty of it was, neither of her men seemed to mind. Not her husband, not their lover. Neither had ever made a “fat” crack. She still tried to eat reasonably, but the weight just wouldn’t melt off as it did in days of old.

  There. Lavinia. She was perfect. Willow marveled at the photos for several more minutes before printing them to show the men. The girl was three years old and her only alleged health issue was asthma. She was probably malnutritioned, too, with several vitamin deficiencies. But now the three of them could fly to St. Petersburg and visit with Lavinia, after having heard so much about her.

  Willow had to step out the sliding glass door of the office because she couldn’t walk through the enormous, domed living room. The sparkling starry sky showed in the pie-like skylights cut into the roof and its eaves. She had seen this sky a hundred times before like this, but tonight it felt special. The butt plug inside of her swiveled about, sending delicious shivers into her innards. She knew that with a child they would have to start confining their play sessions to the locked bedroom.

  But right now, her two men were going hard at it on the shallow end of the pool at the steps. Willow watched for awhile, admiring their form. She loved the part of being a voyeuse when she knew her husband and lover weren’t watching her, and now she knew they hadn’t spied her yet. She placed the photos safely on a terrace table and made sure to stay in the shadows, admiring the flexing of Steffen’s ass muscles as he drilled his partner. It was always such a sight to behold, the rippling of the muscles in the two men’s backs as they humped each other.

  “Fuck me, you nasty jock,” snarled Amadeo, and she knew they were playing the high school game. It was scintillating to think that after so many decades, the idol of Amadeo’s youth was finally eagerly plunging his cock inside him to the hilt. Amadeo was getting what he had wanted so long ago, when he’d first ogled Steffen showering in that locker room.

  Willow couldn’t stop herself from stepping out from the shadows. “You boys need a cheerleader?”

  Steffen gaped for a few seconds and then grinned, so Willow kicked off her heeled sandals to take a few steps down into the pool. Yanking down her bodice, she offered her tits to Amadeo. He eagerly sucked on them, sending thrills through her pussy. Steffen paused in his fucking to lean around Amadeo’s shoulder and assist. Cupping her tit, he held it aloft for his lover to suck.

  “There,” Steffen said with satisfaction. “That’s all you needed. We’re always sucking on cheerleader’s tits, but I guess you stoners don’t get to often.”

  This increased Amadeo’s hunger, and now he yanked the dress down over her shoulders so that both tits popped out, bouncing in the warm night air. Amadeo voraciously went from tit to tit, nibbling and suckling both. Willow poured a handful of the suntan oil to grease up Amadeo’s erect penis, causing him to gasp. His eyes rolled into his head, and he tossed his head back as she stroked.

  She murmured, “You loser stoners don’t get much, do you? Haven’t you ever had a cheerleader jack you off?”

  “God, no,” Amadeo groaned.

  “Not so fast.” Steffen removed her hand from Amadeo’s prick. “Willow. You got your plug in? Give him your ass.”

  “Ooh.” Willow liked that idea. They had been allowing Amadeo to butt fuck her for several months now. It was a good solution to the problem of Steffen’s jealousy and Steffen’s idea that there was still a slight chance she might get pregnant. If she ever did, by some miracle, he wanted to know that he was the father. And Amadeo’s cock didn’t have the girth of Steffen’s. Wearing the butt plug had stretched her to the point where there was now no element of pain to it—merely the pleasurable aspects.

  “Turn around, Miss Cheerleader.”

  Willow allowed Steffen to boss her like that. Now she was submitting to two men at once, and she felt desired, wanted. She turned, lifting her skirt, allowing Amadeo to remove the plug.

  Amadeo murmured, “You’re all stretched out for me. We both like playing the ponies, don’t we, Steffen?”

  “God, yes,” groaned Steffen. “Oil up that asshole, you fucking stoner. You know you want to fuck her.”

  Clinging to the pool rails, Willow squirmed, shimmying her shoulders and wiggling her butt the way she knew Amadeo liked. “That’s it,” she encouraged when he tickled her asshole with the oil. “Fill me up with your long dick, Amadeo. I want to feel it plowing me, spurting inside me, coming—ah!”

  Willow hadn’t expected Amadeo to enter her so swiftly! It felt as though all the air was sucked from her lungs, it was so sudden. She felt his penis shudder inside her, and his deep groans vibrated through her pussy and abdomen. She recovered quickly as the three of them started to move in tandem. She loved the way she could feel Steffen screwing Amadeo as Amadeo screwed her. Every time Steffen speared his lover up the ass, Amadeo’s cock would twitch deep inside of her. Amadeo was being assaulted from both sides.

  “You know how to push me over the edge, Amadeo,” she said over her shoulder. “You like to be pushed to your limits, but you know how to push me, too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Amadeo growled with pride, but clearly didn’t know exactly what she referred to.

  “I’m accepting your big dick from behind,” she breathed, “and I need you to spank me.”

  Amadeo caught on rapidly. He slapped her ass a few times, but when she straightened up her torso, he moved to swatting her pussy.

  Yes. “That’s it,” she purred, spreading her feet wider on the step. Every time Amadeo slapped her clit, it sent a warmth radiating through her torso. He slapped her just hard enough to sting and bring blood rushing to engorge her clit, pulping up her pussy lips, making a dull mushy sound when he spanked her. She found herself moaning and undulating her spine as Amadeo fucked her.

  That encouraged him, too. “You’ve been a bad, slutty cheerleader, haven’t you?” he snarled as he expertly held her ass up with the strength of his hips. Willow could feel Steffen pausing too, on the verge of climax no doubt, his penis buried deep inside his lover.

  “Oh, yes,” Willow agreed, in a slutty tone. “I’ve been very, very bad.”

  “Then spank her!” Steffen suddenly urged in a higher tone than normal, and Willow knew Steffen couldn’t hold back anymore.

  Amadeo’s pussy slaps rang out over the terrace as he ground his cock inside Willow. “I’m going to come,” she had to warn him, so he wouldn’t stop as his own orgasm overtook him.

  He slapped and rubbed her professionally now, and her orgasmic waves clenched her uterus and her anus as it clutched at Amadeo’s ejaculating cock. She made only muted choking sounds as her orgasm continued, seizing up every organ and making her whimper with ecstasy. “Come, come,” she was finally able to whisper, as though the men needed her encouragement. Amadeo’s cock absolutely gushed inside her, depositing such a load she could already feel it trickling down her inner thighs. Steffen drilled him from the other side, pounding him mercilessly with his spurting cock.

  Steffen was the first to withdraw, exhaling hugely. He backstroked out across the illuminated pool while the other couple remained locked together. Steffen splashed and groaned loudly as he apparently did some underwater somersaults, then kicked and crawled some more back to their end of the pool. Amadeo�
�s cock was still twitching inside Willow when he reached them. He slapped Amadeo on the shoulder.

  “Can’t get enough? Listen, I’ve got an early start tomorrow morning at work, so I’m going to fire up the grill now, do some steaks and fish, call it an early night.”

  “Good idea,” said Amadeo, suddenly the picture of the happy cattleman, pulling out of Willow and splashing water on his cock. “There’s some salad from last night. The lettuce might be a little wilted, but it’s still all right. I didn’t put dressing on it yet.”

  Willow’s pussy still burned with the spanking she’d received, and semen seeped down her calves now, but she hauled herself out of the pool by the rails. “Yeah, I have to get back to the Searchlight right now. The temporary chef at the Cavern isn’t familiar enough with the recipes. Guys, first, there’s something I want to show you. I just got an e-mail—”

  “Who the fuck’s at the front door?” Steffen manfully dragged himself out of the pool without using the steps, vaulting over the edge and pulling himself up.

  “I’m not expecting anyone,” Willow said, stepping back into her sandals. She used a towel hanging over an outdoor chair to towel off the semen, careful not to drip on the photos of Lavinia. Amadeo vanished, using the sliding glass door to enter the master bedroom and, presumably, bath. Willow wandered around the terrace. She had fired her Cavern on the Green chef last month because she was too exacting, as Steffen said. She had cooked for Matt for many years and thought she knew a thing or two, and she had just lost it one night when the old chef had used inferior tripe in the pepper pot soup. Now she regretted having been so rash. She didn’t need any additional duties, especially with a trip to St. Petersburg coming up. Amadeo thought she should apologize to the old chef and bring him back, but she felt too foolish.

  “What a splendid evening to go for a swim!”

  The perpetually cheerful Carl Bogart was suddenly on the terrace, accompanied by a very chipper and gorgeous blonde gal. The girl had luscious features—that was the only word to describe her. Exotic and luscious. Her hair was so frothy and whipped it made Willow hungry for a creamy dessert. “Hi, Carl. You didn’t need to come here. I was about to head on down to the motel anyway, help out in the kitchen.”

  Carl, having quit Chas White’s employ, was now her motel manager. “That would defeat the entire purpose, Miss Paige!” He still insisted on calling her Miss Paige. “I wanted to introduce you to Rose here.” He displayed the women standing next to him. Her slight overbite gave her an adorable, ducky look, and Willow liked her instantly.

  “Hi, Rose.” She shook hands. Why was Carl showing off yet one more in his stable of pretty fillies? Being a motel manager apparently had its perks, because Carl was never alone.

  “Nice to meet you, Willow. I’ve been down to your motel and the Cavern. I like the menu you have framed on the wall but I don’t think I’d try to cook anything from it.”

  Willow laughed. It was so unexpected that Rose meant the framed Sunset Palomino Ranch “menu” she had hung in the lobby, she burst out in laughter. “No, don’t ever try to cook anything from that menu!”

  Carl glared at the women with irritation. “That’s not why we came here, Miss Paige. Here, maybe your husband can explain.”

  Carl gestured at Amadeo, who was rounding the terrace from the master bedroom side of the house. Clad now decently in khaki slacks and a new Hawaiian shirt, he smoothed his thick black hair back from his forehead and came forward politely.

  “Oh. Rose, is it? Right. Willow, Carl showed me Rose’s resumé earlier. Quite impressive.”

  Willow was confused. “So you’ve met my husband?”

  “Yes. Earlier at the motel. I dropped off my resumé. And I presume this is your other partner?”

  Willow was already experienced in how oddly people could react to their arrangement. They had decided she would wed Amadeo. He would want their progeny to inherit his ranch, and it would give her a good backup plan if her motel failed. So nominally, Amadeo was the “husband” and Steffen was the “partner.” Even if gay marriage were allowed in California at the moment, their arrangement would still defy all attempts to categorize it legally, but it worked.

  “Yes, this is Steffen Werner. You’re a chef, then?”

  Rose talked a bit about her cooking experience, and she sounded like she might be a good fit. They made plans to meet at the Cavern restaurant at the Searchlight in an hour or so, and the couple departed, but not without Rose casting a meaningful look at the butt plug that still sat next to the pool steps.

  “I think we’ll get along great,” Willow assured her.

  Amadeo had been rummaging around barbecuing slabs of beef and a halibut steak for Steffen, but Willow hadn’t shown them the photos of their future daughter yet. She sidled up to Steffen, who was being the manly mixologist at the wet bar. She said nothing, just held one of the photos in front of his face. His eyes flickered back and forth several times, unsure what he was seeing. He looked at the glass with the ice cubes, then back to the photo.

  Willow knew the moment it dawned on Steffen what he looked at. The ice tongs clattered onto the bar as he slowly wiped off his hands on a rag without taking his eyes from the photo. As though in slow motion, he reached out for the picture.

  “Yup,” Willow agreed with his unspoken remarks. “That’s Lavinia, all right. We can fly to St. Petersburg on the twelfth to visit with her and fill out more paperwork.”

  “Holy…” Steffen took a few zombie-like steps until he was directly underneath one of the overhead cans of light. “Lavinia. I can’t believe it. She’s beautiful, Willow.”

  “What?” yelled Amadeo, dropping his meat fork onto the grill. In a flash he was at Steffen’s side, practically elbowing the other man aside to see the photo. “Oh my God.”

  “I have more pictures.” Willow gave a few to Amadeo and he grabbed them greedily.

  Steffen’s eyes shined as he looked up from his picture. “We’re really doing this. We’re finally going to have a child.”

  Amadeo scoffed. “Say ‘finally’ about yourself, old man. I’m two years younger than you and a cattle magnate. I can have children when I’m eighty.”

  “Sure you can,” Willow assured him. They stood in a tight little circle breathing on the photos. It all felt so momentous, a minute in time that would never be repeated, looking at the first photos of their first child. Willow was certain she would blow the moment by saying something goofy and ridiculous. “But I’ll be seventy-four by then, so I think I’ll be done with kids.”

  “Right,” agreed Steffen, kissing her forehead. “By then you’ll have moved onto our great-grandkids.”

  Nothing had ever felt this right. Willow had always blundered her way through life, hoping that things turned out okay in the end, or at least that no one was mortally wounded as she stumbled along. She had always just held her breath and hoped for the best. With Steffen and Amadeo, for the first time ever she had certainty. She didn't have to lie awake at night staring at the ceiling, a sense of doom and unease looming over her.

  For the first time in her life, it all seemed real to Willow. Her future with her two men was tangible. She could reach out and touch it. The two men were her stability, her home, her rock. They would still be there in the morning. And for that, she was grateful.

  THE END

  WWW.KARENMERCURYAUTHOR.BLOGSPOT.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Karen’s first three novels were historical fiction involving pre-colonial African explorers. Since she was always either accused or praised (depending on how you look at it) for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step. She lives near Napa, California, where she shoots archery, collects minerals, plays with her little Newfoundland pup Myshkin, and does other “guy” things.

  For all titles by Karen Mercury, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/karen-mercury

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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