Her palm landed on his, soft as pillow-stuffing feathers. “It’s okay,” he crooned to her, rising.
She followed, her troubled gaze bright on him. “No, I don’t think it is.”
She hadn’t bitten his head off, her evenly toned voice more resigned than anything else. Leading her as he’d done before, Dono moved at a slow pace toward the part of the house they’d set up for her, between their private rooms.
Dono swore she felt like a fairy beside him with her natural floating gait. But she also walked on eggshells, frightened of her future with them.
“So, how good are you two at sex?”
Her question should have been a thunderbolt from the blue, the way it struck him. Mentally, Dono looped around a couple of times, while his cock rose to the occasion, throbbing against his zipper.
“Ride us, Kylie. Then give us a score.”
“Do you mean like they do at rodeos?”
She drew in a breath and Dono envisioned himself getting back on his feet after a tough bronc ride. That was Kylie’s affect on him.
“Do you have rodeos here?”
“Competitions are beginning again. For a long time, no one had the means.”
“Well…I suppose you could put up a big flashing scoreboard. Rider number…you’re the second oldest, right?”
“Yep,” he shoved past his constricted throat.
“Rider number two, Dono, scores—”
“Donovan,” he interrupted as his breeding flesh became a dang flagpole. “My full name is Donovan Zamora Vega.”
“Definitely a poetic ring to your full name. Dillon and Dash?”
All he wanted to do was find the nearest soft surface and seduce her to their personal carnal heaven. Instead, Dono steered her through the long hallway, answering, “Dillon Zacarius Vega.”
“That’s right. I recall now. He did tell me. After he roped me like a lewd, rude, and crude barbarian.”
Dono’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. He loosed a guffaw, then halted them near her bathroom door.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, irate as a pissed off cat.
“’Cause that’s exactly what he reminds me and Dash of, at times. A barbarian carved out of a mountain by the devil’s worst enemy.”
“Oh. I can see why that’s sorta funny.” She cocked her head in such an endearing manner that Dono sucked his breath in and gave the Almighty a nod. “So, what is Dash’s full handle?”
“Daschel Zephyr Vega.” His brother’s voice came from the other end of the hallway.
Kylie jerked back against the wall, but didn’t struggle against Dono’s hold on her elbow. “Rider number three,” she murmured. “How do you score competitions here?”
Dono gulped hard. Every lust hormone he had galloped at full speed. Dang it, didn’t she know what she was playing at? He gazed into her eyes. On second thought, probably not. She lashed out like a cornered mare, fighting her wariness of them with bold words instead of bared snapping teeth.
“Discussion for a later time,” Dono roughly muttered. At the same time, he tenderly stroked up her arm. “I’ll bet that bath water is cooling down.”
Straightening, she faced him squarely, her gaze defiant. “Are you two planning on joining me?”
“Only if you ask real damn nice, little mermaid.”
She blinked, reminding him of the female hoot owls in their barn. Whirling, she shoved through the door.
“Holy moly! She’s fast as blazes,” Dash called out.
Telling himself he wanted to watch out for her welfare, partly true, Dono kept his movements deliberate and sauntered in after her. For all he knew, bathrooms in her dimension were different.
Dono knew one thing for certain. He sure as sin wanted an invitation from those rose pink lips of his wife.
Chapter Eighteen
Come On In, Boys
Kylie came to a dead stop, standing on her tiptoes. Frothy lace curtains framed the two large windows and adorned every cabinet-like piece of furniture. The room was at least half the size of her house.
Shell pink, as she thought of the color, in several glistening shades surrounded her. Even the floor subtly shone like pinkish sand. The large, tall-sided tub owned a generous part of the room. Its sweeping shape had been designed for soaking, perfect for reading a book.
Kylie guessed the long satin drapes, the color of pink-tinted pearls, concealed the actual stool. Next to that cubicle was a lovely porcelain sink set within a large counter that might have been real granite. An oval mirror, inside an elaborate gilt frame, hung above the deep rose sink. Fading sunlight sparkled on its silvery surface.
Wandering farther inside, Kylie slowly twirled taking in everything for the second time. “Who designed this? I mean I like it.”
“We all did,” Dono answered, pride in his voice.
“How did all three of you ever agree on what to do?”
“After lookin’ at pictures. We all selected our favorites, then combined them. Dash pulled it all together, though.”
“Well, Dash did a great job.” Kylie moved to the lounging tub, studying the odd faucet design. “I don’t think I know how this works.”
Quick as she imagined a panther would move, Dono stood beside her. He reached for one of the swan faucet’s wings, turning it to show her. “Test the water temperature.”
Kylie ignored the quivers clenching her stomach. She tried not to think of anything except how she was going to manage taking a bath with two hornier than horny men, who believed they were both her husbands, and who were gorgeous, give-me-a-vid-camera hunks, each in their own right.
God help her.
If she’d seen them during a night out clubbing, she would have indulged her feminine appetite, surreptitiously observing them from afar. She would never have approached Dono because he looked like a good times cowboy, all too willing to please a woman and himself for a while before playing the song “Like a Rolling Stone” as he sauntered out the door headed for greener pastures.
With his golden boyish handsomeness and his classic cowboy muscles, Dash would have been surrounded by a bevy of women. She could see it now, all of them vying to take him under her wing and teach him all about her favorite kinky sex acts.
Never mind that Dash was actually forty something. That fact got lost real quick inside Kylie’s own head.
Shit, though, staggered wasn’t a big enough word to cover her emotional state. Shock, aftershocks trembled her on the inside and she felt like mush. The real surprise, she still walked around on two feet, instead of collapsing into a useless heap.
Even her ability to be resilient caused a shock wave through her.
“A little too hot,” she murmured. Withdrawing her fingers, she took a couple of steps back. “Why don’t you two go somewhere else? I need some privacy.”
You would have thought by the expression on his face, she’d asked Dono to cease protecting his storybook princess. Kylie blinked, uncertain how to handle him.
Who was she kidding? She had no clue how to handle the fireworks-shooting chaos inside herself. Yeah, light the match, toss it in, that’s how she felt in Dono’s presence.
Before she thought, she tried shoving her hands into her back pockets. “Ow.” Damn, she’d forgotten her butt’s soreness. Not that bad, but still there.
“What’s wrong?” Dono peered anxiously into her face, the one now red as all get out.
“Please, leave.”
After searching her face, he gave a nod. A small grin formed, and he backed away. “Sure, little mermaid. But I ain’t goin’ far. You don’t know the terrain ’round here.” With that, he spun around, striding for the door in that hip-lazy manner that churned her hormones into a frenzy of lust.
Well, dayumm, if he didn’t have the sexiest butt she’d ever laid eyes on, too. Kylie stared. When she glanced up, he’d already turned around, a knowing glint in his gaze.
“You just holler if you need anything, Kylie.”
“Just some peace and qu
iet,” she snapped.
Not disguising his own fast perusal of her body, Dono quirked an I-want-you grin, then vanished out the door, leaving it partially open.
Moaning angrily, Kylie stripped off her clothes in a flurry of movement, tossing them into an untidy pile. She’d decided the bath water was way too tempting to ignore. Her abused horseback muscles needed a relaxing soak. Besides, there were lovely cakes of soap, and the scent of roses steamed into her nostrils.
Not bothering to look over her shoulder at the doorway, she tested the water again. “Perfect.” Gripping the curved edge, she climbed in and felt her entire body sigh with relief. Kylie sank deeper enjoying the way she floated in the silky buoyancy of the water, and the ideal shape of the tub invited her to stretch out completely.
As she rested her head on the small cushion, her eyes refused to stay open, even though she told them to. Soon Kylie languidly scissored her legs and swayed as if she was what Dono called her, a mermaid. For long moments, every thought disappeared, and she simply luxuriated.
Why not live in the moment?
Instead of dozing off as she’d expected, she felt her arms and legs tingle ever so wonderfully until she felt somewhat revived. Curious about the cakes of soap, she opened her eyes and picked up the nearest one. Pink rose petals had been added to the large white bar, lightweight for its size. Sniffing, she basked in the luscious fragrance, the same rose that infused her bath water.
Unable to resist, she soaped one leg. “Wow, this stuff feels good.” Looking around for a razor, she didn’t see one. Oh well, who was she trying to impress? Still as she dipped her leg back in, Kylie noticed itsy bitsy hairs floating off her leg.
Amazed, she tried the other leg with the same result. Wondering what the ingredients were, she sniffed again. It didn’t smell like any soap she knew, except for the scent, itself. Since her legs gleamed and felt satiny to her touch, she lathered her arm and felt a mild disappointment when the soap only rinsed away.
“What’s your secret?” she asked, holding the bar up to her gaze. “Okay, for the real test.” Kylie soaped up her underarms, then her other arm. Setting the bar down, she slipped deep into the water and floated.
“Wowza,” she whispered, feeling her hairless underarms. How could a cake of soap know the difference? Course…oh no!
With her heartbeat quickening, she plastered her hand on top of her head to make certain she wasn’t losing any hair, then looked around for the evidence, nothing.
Nothing but a tub of water blissfully rippled around her. Suddenly feeling sleek as a seal, she set the soap down and rolled several times. Floating again, she splashed her arms playfully.
Wondering at herself, she leisurely washed the rest of her body, except for her pubic hair. She wasn’t about to take a chance that she’d end up naked as the day she was born. Who knew what a bare pussy meant here?
Setting that cake of soap aside, she inhaled the perfume of the three others. One was soothing lavender. Another reminded her of honeysuckle. And the last one smelled like pancake syrup. She grimaced, puzzled, yet amused.
Was that a sexual turn on here? Instead of feeding your husband pancakes in the morning, feed him yourself for breakfast in bed.
Kylie shrugged, then glanced around for anything that might be shampoo. There were fancy glassware bottles, nine of them arranged on a freestanding, pink pearl shelf that was within easy reach. Sighing, she gave into the inevitable.
“Shampoo?” she yelled toward the doorway.
Dono’s head popped around the door. His sexy dark mane flowed off his shoulder as he tilted his head to gaze at her. Crap, if he didn’t remind her of a musketeer, the romantic novel version. “Don’t look!” she crossly added.
“What’s shampoo? Not looking.” He averted his face.
“What do I wash my hair with?”
“Pick any of the bottles. Whatever smells best. Dash likes buyin’ different kinds.”
Well hell, she couldn’t complain about not having a choice, could she? The thought darkly amused her. Deciding on a deep amethyst bottle, Kylie carefully pulled out the stopper and sniffed. Wisteria and other delicate floral fragrances greeted her nose. That worked. She poured out a small amount.
Seeing Dono peek inside, she shouted, “Go away!”
“Only makin’ certain you’re not drownin’.”
He chuckled, a rough musical sound Kylie despaired over since she found it appealing. Actually, a damn turn on. Gee effing whiz, not that he wasn’t devastatingly hunky already.
She answered with the saying she and her childhood friends had said to each other. “Yeah, sell it to the Eskimos.” It was a takeoff on selling ice to the Eskimos. She’d squelched speaking the original. Heaven forbid, she ever uttered it in public. It would be considered politically incorrect, though who knew if that was true here?
The purple tinted liquid lathered up easily between her palms. Quickly, she applied it to her soaked hair. With her conscience pricking her, she called out, “Sorry, in case that’s considered racist here.”
“Nope. Just don’t call anyone a Union man or woman. Guaranteed to get you drawed on or square-punched in the jaw.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Not trusting herself to know how to work the temperature of the swan faucet yet, Kylie dunked her head rinsing her hair. Normally, she would have used clean water. “Gotta do what a girl has to do.”
Shaking her head to remove the excess water, she caught a glimpse of two faces avidly watching her. Dono and Dash peered through the crack between the frame and the door.
Fury swept through her, a blistering force that had her standing. She grabbed a cake of soap. “Is this what you want?” she hollered. “My naked body. Well, come on in, boys.”
The moment Dono appeared, she hurled the soap. With a satisfying smack, it struck his chest.
“And this one is for you!” Twisting at the waist, she plucked up another large cake, wound up like the good pitcher she’d been on the baseball team, and threw it straight at Dash’s gawking mouth. The thick bar of soap bounced off his jaw.
Still infuriated, Kylie whipped around for the other two cakes. Without thought, she aimed first one, then the other. Dono didn’t move, the perfect target. He got it square in the chest again. The oblong white hunk of soap bounced off the hunk he was. Dash whirled as she threw. The bar of soap effectively swatted his butt cheek.
Dono laughed, pointing at Dash’s ass. With a high-pitched whoop, he bent down palming one of the cakes in a fluid easy motion. Underhanded, he gently tossed it back into the tub. Kylie stared at the soap bobbing with the waves. Okay, so, number two cowboy wanted to play some more.
Fuming, with torrents anger surging through her, she scooped up the slippery bar. Invitingly, Dono opened his arms. “Hit me good, sweetheart.”
Kylie wound up. Pow, his solar plexus got it. Another cake of soap plopped beside her, droplets of water splashing her thigh. Dash pointed at his jaw and grinned a taunt.
Flaming higher inside, Kylie snatched up the soap. Arching backward, she hurled. Her aim true, she watched Dash’s forehead take the full brunt of the bar. He reared back from the impact.
Once the slippery cake slid off his nose, number three cowboy laughed as if it was the most hysterically funny thing that had ever happened to him.
Whooping and hollering like they were at some country hoe-down, Dono and Dash leaped after the slimy bars. Sweeping them up, they arced them back into the tub.
Feeling as though she was fueled by explosives, Kylie didn’t hesitate. Each time the soap hit the water, she snatched it up, clutched the bar, and threw for the nearest brother.
“Wooweee, you got a strong throwin’ arm, little Kylie,” Dono hollered. He whooped again just before a cake plunked him hard on the temple.
Dash loosed a gale of laughter at his brother. Kylie focused one eye on her target, then let loose. A direct hit! The bar clocked the back of Dash’s head.
“Wahooo!” Dono j
umped up, doing a jig in mid-air. Landing, he guffawed at his brother.
“Oh, yeah,” Kylie shouted. “I think I should start aiming lower. Since your heads are like damn rocks.”
Both brothers slowly turned, facing her. Their darkened gazes were radiant, caught somewhere between surprise, hope and lust.
“Yep, definitely hard as rocks.” Dash’s suggestive tone caused Kylie to image a pair of rock-like testicles.
Clamping her lips with angry determination, she took aim and fired. Smashola, the bar of soap hit Dono’s groin. A look of unbound happiness spread over his devilishly handsome face.
“Oh, my frisky mermaid, what wicked intentions you have.”
Kylie blinked at Dono’s description. “The only intentions I have is to beat both your butts raw if you dare try anything.”
Swinging around in a split second, Dash lowered his jeans so the faded denim framed his bare ass. “Right here, honey bunny,” he huskily called out.
Honey bunny? Kylie shook her cap of drying hair at the absurdity of her situation.
Bending over to make himself more of a target, Dash twisted around to watch her, his gaze shiny as a new penny, or so her grandmother would have described it.
“You asked for it,” Kylie hollered, using her mean voice.
Knowing she should probably resist, still, Kylie wiped off the soap’s foamy surface. She launched a killer pitch for his butt crack. Granted Dash’s ass was a temptation, a suck in your breath, then check the lust-category bull’s-eye.
Slap! The moist bar landed cockeyed, nearly in his crack. Instead of falling off immediately, it began a gradual slide down the taut perfection of his ass, leaving a wide trail of slick residue.
“I bet you ain’t never had a woman do that before,” Dono ribbed.
“And you have?” Dash shot back.
Dono’s silence was so palpable that Kylie posed with attitude, her palm molded to her hip. “Well, have you?”
Dono let a grin escape as he gazed at her. “It wasn’t soap.”
“What the hell was it?” Dono straightened and the cake of soap hit the floor with a squishy loud splat. He retrieved it, one hand holding his jeans up.
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 17
