Double Her Fantasy

by Randi Alexander

  Closing her eyes to experience every sensation of her body, she eased back slowly. Trey’s cock slid into her slippery cunt, filling her, spreading her slit. Garret’s lubed shaft pressed into her, the sting of his stretching her melding with the intense pleasure of his packing her full of his thick cock. She rode them faster, eager to know the sensation of taking two huge erections into her body.

  Trey shook under her. “So damn good. Don’t stop. Take it all.”

  “I wanna be buried up to my balls in you, baby.” Garret ran his hands from her hips down her thighs.

  With a wild shiver, she pushed all the way back, filling herself completely with both hard shafts. The fullness overtook her and waves of pleasure rolled from her ass, from her cunt, heating her as it grew in her, up her spine to burst into her brain and send her crying out in breathless, exquisite sobs.

  Four hands grabbed her hips as her men guided her body upward to the tips of their cocks.

  “More. Harder,” she demanded.

  They gave her what she needed. Pumping up into her pussy, Trey rode her slick, musky glove. Garret slid deep in her ass, keeping rhythm with his brother, his grunts sounding like pleasured curses.

  In counterpoint to their thrusts, she worked her body on them, pressing down, pulling back, intensifying the ride by moving faster, taking them deep with hard pulses of her hips.

  “You got it, baby,” Garret moaned. “Make us come. Fuck the cum out of us.”

  Trey slid one hand to her breast, tugging on her nipple. “Come with us. Let go and we’ll follow you.” His voice was strained, as if holding on to a thin thread of control.

  Garret’s fingers dropped from her hip to her sensitive clit. Pinching gently, he tugged and twirled until her body shook, a shattering climax stealing over her.

  “Yes, yes!” she shouted, as her mind blew into millions of tiny shards, her cunt contracted so hard she nearly squeezed Trey’s shaft out of her.

  “Aw, fuck!” Trey yelled, his fingers plucking her nipple, his hand on her hip pushing her down onto his pistoning hips.

  Spikes of pleasure raced to every nerve ending as her orgasm intensified, blasting through her, her nipple and clit blazed under her men’s fingertips, her core shuddering as the pressure of two cocks set her tingling with contractions that eclipsed anything she’d ever felt before.

  Trey pumped into her, fast and stiff, moaning with his orgasm. Behind her, Garret let himself fly with them and shouted with each manic pump into her anus. Her arms shook as her body reconnected with her mind as the hum of an aftershock from her amazing orgasm took her breath away and melted her muscles.

  Both men pumped their last, slow thrusts into her, their breaths chugging in and out as fast as hers was.

  “Wow. That was epic,” Trey said, easing her arms up over his head as he flattened her against his chest, his cock still buried inside her.

  Garret straightened her legs along his brother’s thighs then pressed his chest against her back, sandwiching her between her sweaty, musky, too-sexy men.

  In one movement, they rolled to their sides, all three of them still pressed close together, still linked inside her. Trey rested his head on her arm and flung a leg over them all. Garret wrapped an arm around them, keeping them close. She loved that despite her men not touching each other during sex, they shared this afterglow with her, all three of them so intimately close.

  After long moments, their breathing returned to normal, heartbeats slowed, and their bodies cooled. Trey kissed her, gentle presses of his lips and Garret nibbled on her shoulder. She could stay like this forever. She’d miss these guys so much. A sob made her suck in her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep in the tears that formed.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” Trey brushed back her hair from her face.

  Garret lifted up on one arm. “Megan? Talk to us.”

  She shook her head. “It was just so good. I’m feeling emotional.” Her voice shook.

  Her movie star lightly slapped her ass. “That’s what I like to hear.” He slid his cock out of her and rolled away.

  Trey tipped her chin up. “Look at me.”

  She did as he commanded, her eyes blurry from the pain of imminent separation.

  “It doesn’t have to end.” Trey pulled his shaft out of her sensitive slit.

  She felt…empty. She turned onto her stomach and buried her face in her hands. “I wish we had more time.” Despite her strong-willed intentions, a sniffle escaped her.

  Garret’s hand stroked down her back. “We can have all the time you want, baby.”

  “A few more hours?” That would have to be enough for her. “Okay. Sorry for the melt down.” She firmed her resolve and pushed up on her elbows.

  “No.” Trey laid down, his face close to hers. “We want more.”

  Garret laid on his back on her other side, grinning. “You’re not getting away from us.”

  She shook her head, trying to understand through her afterglow-buzzed brain. “What are you saying?”

  “Come to Texas.” Trey’s eyes held the most sincere emotion she’d ever seen.

  Her heart skittered as excitement ranged through her. “Texas?”

  “Yep. It’s a state, here in the USA.” Garret grinned.

  She shot him a wry look. “I’ve heard of it. Little place that used to be in Mexico, right?”

  Trey laughed. “Whoa, there, little filly. Them words could rightly get you permanently banned from the great state of Texas.”

  “Run out on a rail, baby,” Garret added with a slap on her ass.

  She couldn’t get her head around what they were asking, as if she’d heard wrong. “You want me to visit you at your ranch?”

  The men exchanged a glance.

  “We’ll call it a visit, for now.” Trey lifted up, braced his head on his hand. “A chance for us to get better acquainted. See what’s in our future.”

  Garret toyed with a lock of her hair. “I’m done here in a week and a half. I’ll rent a plane and head up to Canada for you.”

  Rent a plane. Pick her up. The three of them on the Silver Spur. And it was more than a visit. It could turn out to be more. Much more. Could she leave the safety of her remote home? She frowned. Would she be too vulnerable to exposure?

  “Sweetheart?” Trey traced his fingertips down her spine. “Are you worried about security? About your stalker?”

  Nodding, she looked at Garret. “Paparazzi don’t respect property lines.”

  “No one has ever breached the ranch’s security.” Garret looked at Trey. “Hell, the driveway to the house is over a mile long. Airspace is even radar patrolled. No one gets anywhere near us.”

  “No one ever has.” She picked at the fabric of the quilt. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t in the future.”

  “There’s something else.” Garret looked at Trey, then back at Megan. “I’m holding off on taking another movie contract.”

  Megan’s gaze shot to his. His expression was sincere, determined.

  After a silent moment, Trey exhaled. “When did you make that decision? I’ve been asking you to spend more time on the ranch for years.”

  “I’ve been considering it…for years.” Garret brushed his knuckles across Megan’s cheek. “Hasn’t been much incentive to give it a try until now.”

  Her heart swelled and her breath came in stutters. He’d do that? For her?

  “Filming for months at a time, broken bones, ducking photographers, putting up with diva leading ladies and jackass directors.” Garret grinned. “Wouldn’t be too hard to give it up completely.”

  “Damn. That’d be great.” Trey’s voice came deep, tinged with emotion.

  “How about you, Megan?” Garret’s eyes narrowed. “Could you hang around a big old ranch with an anal-retentive cowboy and a washed-up movie star?

  She bit the inside of her cheek to curb the flutter of tearful emotion trying to escape her chest. “I’d love to.”

  Garret stroked his fingertips
along her jaw. “We’d love to have you.” His brow furrowed and his gaze searched her face then locked with her eyes. His look told her what he wasn’t ready to. There was a strong pull between them, maybe even the beginning of love.

  She turned to Trey. His eyes held the same longing, the same intensity. “We’ll take care of you, Megan. I promise you’ll be safe with us on the Silver Spur.”

  Megan dropped her head for a moment. She’d found something so special, so unique, she’d never be able to let it go. Never let them go. The McGatlin brothers’ double seduction filled her body with twice the pleasure, and her heart with twice the love.

  She flipped onto her back and stretched her arms over her head. “Show me that wicked move one more time, and I’m yours.”

  Her men moved in and said in stereo, “Megan.”

  About the Author

  When Randi Alexander is not dreaming of, or writing about, kinky cowboys, she’s biking trails along remote rivers, snorkeling the Gulf of Mexico, or practicing her drumming in hopes of someday forming a tropical-rock band.

  Romance novels have been Randi’s hideout since she was a teen. The chance to imagine herself as the strong but vulnerable heroine, and the guarantee of a “Happily Ever After” ending, have always been irresistible.

  Erotic romance is her newest passion. It still lets her live the heroine’s life and gives her a lovely ending, but also allows her to witness the attraction between the characters as they explore physical love. She hopes her writing sweeps you away and grants you pleasant dreams of all your fantasies coming true.

  Visit Randi at

  www.RandiAlexander.com

  To chat with Randi Alexander and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.

  Also Available

  Her Cowboy Stud

  by

  Randi Alexander

  Trace McGonagall’s quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle’s will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can’t resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

  Macy wouldn’t have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she’d known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy’s dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace’s perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?

  Chapter One

  The evening sun eased close to the horizon when Macy Veralta stepped out of her rental car onto the packed dirt driveway in front of a big old rambling ranch house. Its long, covered porch held a cozy grouping of wicker furniture on one end and a charming porch swing on the other. She took it all in.

  McGonagall Ranch was as beautiful as she’d imagined it. Corralled horses grazed under the endless sky. Big red barns stood with their doors open to catch the fresh spring breeze. Exactly the way Silas McGonagall had described it.

  With her first deep sniff, she caught the scent of grass and the not-completely-unpleasant odor of horse manure. She smiled and closed the car door. For a city girl, the two-hour drive through the wide-open spaces of Texas provided a new experience. It eased her busy mind and settled a peaceful stillness in her chest.

  A metallic squeak from the house alerted her that she was no longer alone. Oh, God. This was it. She was finally coming face to face with him. Trace McGonagall, the cowboy she’d been fantasizing about for nine months. She swung around as the screen door slapped shut. A big man strode onto the porch, settling his tan cowboy hat on his head.

  Magnificent. The only word she could find to describe him. His Uncle Silas had shown her his photo. She’d seen his picture online when she’d researched him, but, wow, the living, breathing man was extraordinary. Her stomach jittered in excitement.

  His handsome, strong-jawed face showed a dark five-o’clock shadow. The expected boots, jeans, belt with buckle, and light plaid button-down shirt were present. The way he filled them out—hot. Plenty of muscles and not a sign of a beer gut. The flip in her belly spread, escalating into a thrum that reached down low into her pussy, shocking her with its intensity.

  Damned if her feet didn’t choose that moment to stumble over themselves, sending her flailing backward to smack her ass against the car door. Thank heaven the car was there, or her white capris pants would now be collecting a sample of Texas dirt.

  While she busily made a fool of herself, he stopped his confident stride at the top of the steps. His full lips twitched. Under the brim of his hat, his dark eyes glimmered briefly as he rubbed his scruff. Was he laughing at her? That’s what she got for wearing her sexiest spike-heeled sandals to try to impress her fantasy cowboy.

  He dropped his hand from his face and grumbled, “You’re late.”

  Macy frowned. Not very nice, was he. Which was not at all what she expected. Silas had gone on and on about how courteous his nephew was. A true gentleman, but completely alone, no family to speak of except Silas. Too hard working to find time to date. Evidently rusty at dealing with women, too.

  She lifted her arm to check her watch, informing him succinctly, “Actually, I’m early. I told your housekeeper I’d be here by six and it’s only—”

  “You’re three months late, Miss Veralta.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the pillar that held up the porch roof. “My uncle died in January, and you’re just gettin’ here now?”

  Macy sucked in a breath as she pushed herself back to standing. That voice. Deep and strong, slow with a sensual Texas drawl, sending jolts of heat to her core and evoking the daydream she’d been indulging in for three quarters of a year. The fantasy where cowboy Trace McGonagall held her close and murmured low, sexy promises in her ear.

  “Are you even listenin’ to me?” The snap in his voice obliterated her daydream and stirred up her need to bite back.

  “There was nothing in your uncle’s will that said I had to pick up my bequest by a certain time.” Ouch, that came out a little too bitchy.

  The cowboy’s lips thinned. “What do you mean, ‘pick up’? And how did you know my uncle?”

  Macy heaved a sigh. This was turning out so terribly wrong. Here they were, sniping at each other, when she’d spent hours planning how this meeting would go. Her, in her designer sandals, capris, and strawberry-patterned halter top. Her shoulder-length blonde hair blowing in the soft breeze. Yes, she would be irresistible.

  In her dream, he’d be startled by her sexy charm, pull out all of his seductive cowboy tricks, and by sunset they’d be sharing a kiss right there on the porch.

  “Miss Veralta. Are you still with me?” He sounded exasperated.

  Oh, crap, she’d been staring again. Wondering how his lips would taste. Heat rose to her cheeks as she muttered, “Um…”

  He gestured with his head. “Maybe you should come up here into the shade. The Texas sun can be rough—”

  “No,” she croaked. Her, up there on the porch with him? It would take all her willpower to keep from pulling him to her and rushing into that kiss a couple hours ahead of schedule. “I’m sorry, can we start over? I’m guessing you’re Trace McGonagall?”

  He grunted, uncrossed his arms, and clomped down the wooden steps, all loose limbed and masculine. “My apologies, ma’am. I’m usually not lackin’ in manners.” He walked right up to her and tipped his hat. “But this whole situation has got me riled.”

  He stood at least a foot taller than her. She had to look up into his eyes. They weren’t brown as she’d thought—they were a perfectly inky blue. A few strands of brown hair escaped from under his hat, looking like they might be wet. His scent surrounded her, clean, like soap and rainwater. Had he just showered? Was there anything sexier than a freshly washed cowboy? Every nerve in her body tingled and urged her to get closer. As close as possible. Right into his arms.


  “Ma’am, you do a lot of starin’.” His right brow lifted.

  She glanced away. Had he read the longing in her eyes? “It’s been a long week.” She felt the need to explain her awkwardness, and her tardiness. She met his gaze. “I travel for a living. This is the first chance I had to detour to Houston.” She wouldn’t tell him that when she found out Silas had died and remembered her in his will, she realized she was finally going to meet Trace McGonagall. She’d spent every spare moment of the last three months at the gym. Since graduating college, her hectic lifestyle left her a little pudgy and a lot lazy. Today she felt good. Happy with her body. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but your Uncle Silas’ attorney didn’t mention any need for urgency.”

  Trace scratched his cheek. “I didn’t mean to offend, ma’am, but—”

  “Macy.” She smiled, hoping to unfreeze this stiff cowboy a little bit.

  He looked at her strangely, as if weighing the benefits of getting to know her on a more personal level.

  “May I call you Trace?” She attempted to say his name with a light, teasing tone, but it came out choked. Darn it, what was it about this man that had her so jumpy? A big man, strong and confident. Dominating. The visual of him taking charge in the bedroom made her sigh.

  He huffed out a breath, almost as if he was laughing at her again, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah, Trace is fine.”

  He was indeed fine. As she lost herself deep in his gaze, a chill of awareness rattled through her.

  He noticed, drawing his brows together. He did his share of staring for a minute before steeling his features. “Now, there’re a number of details to be worked out. Things I’ve been handlin’ for you the last three months.” His features regained the frustrated, thin-lipped look from earlier in their conversation. “An offer I’d consider makin’, if you’re amenable.”

  She blinked a few times, confused. Silas had left her a spinning wheel. What details did Trace have to handle? Was he going to charge her storage fees?