The Grass Is Greener [McQueen Was My Valley 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  When Sasha’s hand met his on Rowan’s cock, both fought for supremacy, for the privilege of being allowed to stroke the pulsating dick. Sasha finally backed off, allowing Perry to fully jack the wonderful prick. His hand pumped the heated length of meat, and he wondered for the first time what it would be like to fuck another man. Rowan’s ass was just too tempting, too beautifully molded. It wouldn’t be much different than doing a woman doggy style. He panted against the back of Rowan’s neck as he dry-humped him.

  Sasha whispered something, and Perry peeked around the slope of Rowan’s shoulder to look at her. She looked like a child on Christmas morning, and it suddenly struck Perry that maybe, just maybe, the good doctor wasn’t as worldly or loose as she was trying to make out. It was obviously the first time she’d been topped by anyone as virile as Rowan O’Shea, and probably the only time she’d been near two men pleasuring each other.

  Hell. Perry wasn’t exactly an expert at pleasuring another man, either. But he was determined to learn.

  “Bukkake,” Perry heard Sasha whisper.

  What did that mean? It sounded vaguely Asian. Continuing to jack Rowan’s silky prick, Perry closely watched the woman’s face for a sign. “Bukkake,” he agreed, hoping it might clear things up.

  “Get over here,” commanded Rowan, grabbing Perry’s arm and bringing him to kneel side by side.

  Both men loomed over the bound woman now, and as usual Rowan took the lead by gripping Perry’s shoulder. He gave the squirming woman one last lingering glance—and with that, Perry knew that the couple was hopelessly in love—before turning to Perry and planting an enormous, voracious kiss on him.

  It was like Jekyll and Hyde. The adoration and tenderness Rowan had bestowed upon Sasha was now out the window as Rowan guzzled and slurped at Perry’s mouth. Is this bukkake? This is what they had done at the swimming hole when Sasha had been so impressed, so Perry eagerly gave himself over to Rowan’s capable hand when he fisted Perry’s dick and stroked. It was natural for Perry to reach for his friend’s cock as well, and soon there was a furious competition of mutual masturbation, the men’s fists blurry as they pumped each other, jutting their hips and mashing their cocks together.

  This proved too much for poor Sasha, because she began to protest and thrash. All she could do now was fondle Rowan’s balls with her free hand, but she couldn’t even lift her shoulders from the mattress. The men broke their passionate kiss to look mildly down at her. She was about to give herself whiplash, she was thrashing so wildly.

  “Do it! Do it, you bastards, so you can let me go!”

  Rowan looked into Perry’s eyes with amusement. “Oh, she wants it,” he said calmly.

  How could Rowan be so calm? His palm smeared a few drops of semen at the tip of Perry’s glans and already Perry felt about to spurt into his friend’s hand. Perry grunted and grabbed Rowan’s wrist in his hand, to indicate he shouldn’t stop. “Yes,” he agreed breathlessly, “she wants it.”

  Rowan asked Sasha mildly, “You want Perry first, you sultry vixen?”

  Sasha’s thrashing head was starting to blur, she was so crazed. “I don’t care who goes first! You’re abso-fucking-lutely driving me over the edge of tolerable human endurance!”

  Rowan grinned as though about to pour the doctor some tea. “That’s a yes, then?”

  “For fuck’s sake!” Perry blurted. “What is bukkake?” He had been the proud purveyor of fire play, something even the jaded and experienced Rowan had never heard of. Yet even the prim doctor knew of this Asian art.

  Rowan’s eyes twinkled with merriment. He briefly pressed a bruising kiss to Perry’s lower lip. “This,” he said, “is bukkake.”

  And with eight or nine expert, twisting strokes of his fist, Rowan brought Perry off all over Sasha’s breasts and neck.

  Perry gasped so loudly that stars swam before his eyes. He was taken so by surprise it wasn’t until Rowan was wringing the last few spasms of ecstasy from his prick that he noticed Sasha, enjoying the bath she was getting. She writhed like a sensuous mermaid, even spreading the glistening semen over her own breasts. Her eyelids drooped with passion as she brought her hand to her mouth and licked his seed from her fingers. “Mm” was all she would say, over and over again.

  “Ah!” Perry gasped one last time as Rowan milked his dick powerfully.

  And Rowan wasn’t done. He eagerly humped Perry’s hip as he frigged his friend, murmuring dirty things into his ear. “That’s it. That’s good. Spew on the beautiful lady. Show her who’s boss. You’re the boss, right? The boss with your juicy, fat penis, coming all over this pretty woman.”

  That was it. Perry was fed up with being led around like a kid’s pony by the bridle. Shoving Rowan violently against his chest, he was able to get the other man’s hand off his dick. Perry narrowed his eyes. “Colossal asswad!” he spat. “You think you can seduce me into another circle jerk? You’ve got another thing coming.”

  Rowan didn’t utter a word of protest when Perry gripped his shoulders and maneuvered him to straddle the squirming woman. From behind, Perry vigorously jacked the other man, a sense of power welling inside him once more. Not only did Rowan not protest at being manhandled like this, he even lifted his powerful arms over his head and twined his fingers around Perry’s neck. He squirmed his rump salaciously against Perry’s half-erect cock, solely for Sasha’s amusement, Perry could tell. Her unbound hand was now buried deep between her thighs and she moaned the most unladylike things Perry had ever heard.

  “Oh, yes. That’s good, Perry. Don’t stop. I want to absolutely swim in his semen. Yes. Give it to me. Yes, Rowan. Yes. Please, drown me. I want to drown in your semen.”

  Perry was confused. Was it not sadomasochism if they were giving Sasha what she wanted? Somehow, although she was tied to three of the four bedposts, it seemed she was managing to exert control—to get exactly what she wanted.

  Now Rowan seemed beyond control. “Yes,” he urged Perry, although Perry needed no urging. “Yes! Jack me onto this pretty lady, Perry. Give her what she wants!”

  Perry had his nearly flaccid cock wedged firmly between Rowan’s thighs by the time Rowan splashed the pretty lady with his own streams of ejaculate. Perry even had the nerve to slap the well-rounded butt and give it a few squeezes as he jerked Rowan’s cock.

  But once again, the masterful mercenary was one step ahead of him. Letting go of his grip around Perry’s neck, he nearly sat on the poor woman’s chest. Before Perry could protest, she was gulping Rowan’s squirting cock into her little mouth!

  “Mmph,” was all Sasha would say, and Perry was wordless with astonishment, too. All he could do was slowly sink back onto his heels and watch that amazing satyr Rowan O’Shea fuck the refined lady’s mouth, his ball sac slapping against her chin.

  Of course, luckily most of his load had splashed onto her throat and chest beforehand. Even then, soon she was choking on his meat, so mercifully he pulled back and sat between her thighs, his legs scissored to give her the best view of his throbbing member. Bastard. Of course, immediately after orgasming, Rowan somehow managed to be even handsomer than before, if such a thing was possible. And Sasha, of course, she fairly glowed like a bug in June, still licking her lips, her ash-blonde hair flowing out on the pillow behind her.

  “So that’s bukkake,” Perry murmured.

  “Oh, yes,” said Sasha, brightly, as though attending a symposium on the affair. “I saw you two doing it by the creek, and it turned me on so badly I couldn’t think of anything else.”

  But suddenly Perry did think of something else. There was one thing Rowan, in his supreme selfishness, had left out of the equation. Shoving Rowan by the shoulder to topple him over, Perry dove between Sasha’s thighs. He slid his shoulders under her and lifted her to his face, not even bothering to admire the view before plunging his nose between her labia.

  “Ah!” This time it was a screech, and Sasha grabbed a handful of Perry’s hair in her little fist.

  Perry cou
ld practically hear Rowan sitting back and admiring his panache as he licked their woman to the height of ecstasy. Perry had done this some, in his time. Fact, as a teenager he’d had this stunning Navajo girlfriend who just could not get enough of it. Hah. Let Rowan think he’s the best at everything. In a few seconds Sasha will know that I’m as good, if not better, at pussy-eating than Rowan.

  But it took longer than Perry recalled. He remembered what Rowan had said when he’d busted his way into the suite an hour ago. “I just forced a fierce orgasm upon her,” or something of that nature. Sasha keened in a higher and ever-higher tone like a teakettle about to boil. She was light as a feather to lift, and so wet his chin must be shiny with her sweet juices, and she thrashed his handful of scalp as though she were a dog worrying a bone. But by the time he heard the catch in her breath—there, that was the signal! Perry could never forget that—it was worth all the pain and effort.

  One entire shudder gripped Sasha’s body, and she seemed to go stiff, as though rigor mortis took ahold of her. Aha. I’ve got it. Pride welled through Perry as he lapped away at her swollen button, swiping his tongue up and down. It was painful now since he hadn’t worked that muscle in so long, but oh, so worth it, especially when he felt Rowan stroke his bare back with affection. Sasha shuddered in her bonds, stretching them taut like rubber bands, and Rowan lulled Perry with his seductive brogue.

  “That’s good, buddy. Please the lady. Bring her down from the plateau slowly. Don’t shock her. She’s going to need our care. Slowly, slowly. Lick her slower.”

  By the time Sasha released her death grip on his hair and collapsed onto the mattress as though deflated, Perry had about given up the ghost, too. Rowan lay down in the crook of Sasha’s shackled arm, cuddling his nearly shaven head to the slope of her breast, and still stroking Perry’s back, but absently, as though half-asleep.

  The candle now sputtered, the wick being just a tiny cinder, so Perry forced himself to move. He was used to that, sleeping in his truck in the snow, or camping on high pinnacles in ice storms. It was no big deal. Rowan was probably accustomed to the harsh elements, too. Rowan just had a more sensual nature and didn’t want to tear himself away from the woman’s—any woman’s—side.

  At least I’m thoughtful. Perry ripped the Velcro off one of Sasha’s ankles then went around to unbind her wrist. She must be wracked with pain by now. She barely moved once freed, though. Probably too exhausted. Perry poured the candle wax into the plate so the flame burned brighter then grabbed his pants off the floor.

  He was surprised when Rowan mumbled gruffly, “Where you going?”

  “Back to my cabin.”

  “Get in here.”

  Perry hesitated. What did Rowan mean?

  Without opening his eyes, Rowan lifted an arm. “Get in here.”

  Perry didn’t need to be told again.

  Chapter Eleven

  El Zeub was pinging off a different tower, farther from the Triple Play now. And Janellen, apparently Perry’s dispatcher, had been angrily trying to get ahold of him to tell him citizens had seen spotlighting poachers in the same Mad Cow Canyon area where El Zeub was currently wreaking some havoc. So the three, along with the new detection dog, Fubar, drove out around one in the afternoon to see what could be seen.

  One little detail intrigued Rowan about what Janellen had said. A citizen had reported that one of the spotlighters, who appeared to be wearing a mountain lion’s skin himself, was seen coming out of a cave carrying “what looked like explosives.” Now, anything could “look like explosives.”

  “Clothes dryer parts could look like explosives,” Rowan said.

  Sasha sat in between the two men on the bench seat of Perry’s Department of Wildlife truck. The yellow lab, who had been trained to sit in the back seat of the king cab, stuck his head between her and Rowan. Sasha nuzzled her face next to the dog’s silky ear. “Well, the description of the cave did sound like it was near the Mad Cow cell tower, right?”

  “Right,” said Rowan. The problem was finding the damned cave. There were so many little pocket caves, grottos, and dens. If the guy’s truck wasn’t parked directly in front of his own personal cave at the moment they drove by, they wouldn’t see it. The citizen had given the helpful tip that the cave was directly due northeast of the skeleton of a cow that Dave Smock had hit with his truck last year, so they were driving along at fifteen miles an hour scanning the shoulder for bovine rib bones.

  “If nothing else, we could at least catch some poachers,” opined Perry.

  Perry and his damned poachers. Rowan knew it was Perry’s job and he had probably become obsessed over the years, much as men in Rowan’s profession became obsessed with certain targets. Rowan had once nabbed a jihadist in New York after shadowing him for almost a year. His bosses even told him to quit it, but Rowan knew the guy was a wife beater in addition to being a money launderer, and he just really, really hated wife beaters, after having had to witness his father in action for several years.

  “Orgasms are a wonderful natural painkiller,” said Sasha matter-of-factly as the lab licked her face.

  Rowan was amused to see Perry’s expression go blank with shock. Rowan knew that Sasha wasn’t being bold or flirtatious—she was merely being her usual doctorly self, making medical observations.

  “Is that so, my love?” Rowan liked calling Sasha “my love.” He knew he was in love with her, for one thing. But it enabled him to say that without making any sort of corny commitment he wouldn’t be able to honor. Who knew what the delicious doctor wanted, after all? The only time Rowan worked with doctors was when he brought a body to the coroner’s office, and he usually already knew the cause of death by that time.

  But he couldn’t easily imagine Sasha falling in love with him, reciprocating his feelings. She was merely being overwhelmed by a wave of sexuality, the likes of which she probably hadn’t experienced for years, if that photograph of Sir Colin Whitbread he’d seen online was any indication. Sir Colin looked like a stodgy bore. She was being wanton, tied up and wanting to be splattered with semen from not one but two men, because she was on an adventure. The wantonness was all an act, an exploration of an unknown side of herself, and the newness must be shocking for her. Rowan knew from past experience that it took a couple of limber pole dancers to deal with him in his finest hour, and this poor miss had her hands quite literally full with both him and the nature boy game warden. It would all end when her sister’s wedding was over, when they found El Zeub, whichever came first.

  Rowan had graciously allowed Perry to lick Sasha to orgasm last night. Rowan knew when to take and when to give. If Perry wasn’t allowed to participate in any satisfactory way and was forced to watch Rowan and Sasha go at it, he’d rebel. He’d just bail on them—what did Perry need them for? And for many varied reasons, Rowan wanted to keep Perry in their intimate ménage. Perry was fun, sweet, and easily manipulated—and he reminded Rowan of “the one who got away,” a fellow merc he’d been deeply in love with on assignment in Cuba. That bastard had the entire town at his feet and he knew it, and he’d crushed Rowan like a bug. Rowan was determined not to let that happen again. He was off to a good start because Perry didn’t seem to be overly aware of his own beauty. Rowan suspected the cocksucking in the desert had been one of the first, if not the first, for the nature boy.

  And Perry was the first man Rowan had allowed himself to have genuine feelings for since Cuba. He had determined to only fall for another woman—the one he’d live with in the house with the chickens—but it wasn’t bothering him that he was feeling very affectionate toward the game warden, too. Last night they’d slept in Sasha’s bed. She had gotten up to go to the kitchen for something. In his job as protector, Rowan had started to follow, but Perry had caught his wrist and yanked him back into bed. Rowan was surprised to remember how good it felt just entwining his limbs with another man’s. A man had a musky, erotic scent, and Rowan’s jawbone nestled perfectly against Perry’s shoulder. He enjoyed runn
ing his hand over the smooth chest, causing Perry’s big dick to tent out the bedspread, but it wasn’t time to arouse the poor boy all over again.

  Rowan knew he had to let Perry have his fun, too. A good Dom knew when to loosen the restraints, when to give his subs a sense of achievement. And ultimately, Perry had given Sasha another shattering orgasm. It just took him a lot longer than it took me. Rowan could give other men credit for some things. But Rowan had to be number one in the orgasm-giving arena. “Do you normally have pain?”

  “Why, yes, sometimes at night I develop pains in my upper arms that I am fearing might develop into fibromyalgia. But last night there wasn’t a trace of pain! Oxytocin is released during orgasm, and it’s been proven to be a mighty painkiller. Researchers don’t know the connection, but there’s hope it might be somehow used for arthritis and headache.”

  Sasha twinkled her eyes up at Rowan, and he completely forgot to keep an eye out for the skeleton. Only a refined woman of such heavenly nature could make Rowan forget a tracking task. He shoved away the dog’s square skull in order to thread his fingers through her loose coiffure, and he touched the tip of his nose to hers. “Ah, Miss McQueen. It hurts me when you say you have pain.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” whispered Sasha. The tip of her tongue darted out to lick Rowan’s lower lip. “Very slight pain, easily handled with ibuprofen.”

  “Ah, the skeleton?” Perry shouted.

  His loud donkey’s voice startled Sasha, who jumped. Rowan put his arms protectively around her, and they both looked out the window at the road’s shoulder. “It’s probably not even our target,” grumped Rowan. “El Zeub doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to wear an entire mountain lion on his head.”

  “A fake cartoon mountain lion, maybe,” Perry reminded him. Perry had the theory that perhaps El Zeub was taking a couple vacation days off from his terrorism schedule to actually attend the Great Utah FurFest—that he wasn’t following Sasha at all.