The Subject Was Rose [The Sunset Palomino Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  He said it in a hushed voice, so the other two cops who milled about couldn’t hear him. But one of them stepped toward Drake and said, “Mr. Stinson, you’re going to have to come with us. You’re going to have to explain why someone stole a document from the back of a pricey painting, but left the painting.”

  Probably because Burt Macklin is a moron. The painting’s probably worth more than the contract. “Certainly, officer. Rose, Jesse, I’ll be back in an hour or so. No worries. Rose, you don’t have to cry. It’s no big deal that he got the contract. I’ve got to have a paper trail somewhere else.”

  Drake held Rose’s little hands between his, touched that tears were actually rolling down her face. She looked cute as a button with her nose all red, so full of distress that Drake crushed her to his chest. She struggled, though, because she wanted to say something. She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

  “It’s not that, Drake. I mean, it is, but…He took Jesse’s painting of me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jesse felt silly wearing the G-string.

  Naturally, he’d modeled underwear during his modeling days. A billboard of him had even been alongside The Sunset Strip, and another had hung a couple blocks from Times Square.

  That was different. That was Modeling Jesse, and he felt more like a Buzz, T-Bag, or Marky anyway when he modeled. It wasn’t him looming there in his skivvies over fifty thousand workers hustling about. He felt somewhat detached from it. People could even poke fun at the ads and he wasn’t personally hurt.

  But now, in front of his two lovers, he felt exposed and vulnerable. They had joked about him wearing a satin G-string and now here he was, critically examining himself from every angle in Drake’s master bathroom mirror. He knew he wasn’t quite as buff as he’d been in his modeling days. He used Drake’s gym, sure, but not as obsessively as Drake did. He had real work to do, damn it!

  Thinking of what might happen in the next hour had Jesse heavily aroused. His erection dragged the pouch of the G-string down so many inches that his neatly trimmed pubic hair was evident.

  But nervous. The last time he’d dared open the door to Drake’s master bedroom he’d wound up fantasizing about Drake’s prick encased in the cock harness like some kind of torture implement. He’d been wondering about his fantasies for weeks now. Why, in that particular scenario, didn’t he masturbate to the image of the woman tied to the headboard? Her breast implants were huge and ponderous as the wax dripped down their sides. But no, it was the memory of Drake’s outstanding, muscular ass framed by the chaps that had become sort of a fetish for Jesse. He had requested Drake wear them again today. Slowly, day after day, Jesse was becoming accustomed to the idea that he was probably bisexual.

  Or was there a term for a man who mostly loved women, but loved one particular man? Bi-curious?

  There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Rose said, “Mr. Factor? Are you ready for your close-up?”

  As ready as I’ll ever be. “Sure.”

  Jesse was aroused and also filled with doom, wondering what sight would greet him when he entered Drake’s famous master bedroom. Jesse had heard of St. Andrew’s crosses and spanking benches—well, mostly heard of them from Rose. Apparently when Willow Paige had been remodeling the Searchlight she had come across a room full of those apparatuses. Now they were safely stored in the Gadabout Gaddis Cottage where Willow, Amadeo, and their lover Steffen stayed when not at their ranch. So Jesse didn’t expect any large pieces of furniture, but he went still with shock when he saw the saddle-shaped Sybian placed atop an ottoman.

  The Sybian was for girls. Was the plan to place Rose on the saddle? She was certainly dressed like a cowgirl, with a flouncy jeans skirt, cowboy boots, and a bedazzled shirt to go with the theme of Drake’s chaps and boots. As promised, the video camera was set on a tripod pointed in the direction of the Sybian. They had looked at Rose’s copy of the Sunset Palomino menu and had decided to reenact the Porn Star Experience. Jesse liked the idea because it would demonstrate the trust they all had for each other. Trusting Drake Stinson with a sex tape was like trusting a dog with a bone. Jesse was sure he had a room full of sex tapes in the sprawling ranch-style house and would just add theirs to the mound. Jesse was giving Drake a vote of confidence in allowing himself to be filmed, but—the Sybian?

  Jesse practically stuttered, pointing at the thing. “Is Rose—is Rose—”

  Drake stepped up, putting his hands on Jesse’s shoulders. He didn’t wear the cock harness today, just a simple leather cock ring with metal snaps. The cock ring enhanced Drake’s stiff erection, and the cockhead brushed against Jesse’s straining penis encased in tight satin. “No, buddy. I want you to have the honors. I want to watch you impale yourself on that vibrating dick.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened. He’d never had a foreign object up his ass. His eyes darted aside to see that someone had equipped the machine with one of the smaller finger-like dildos. Jesse grabbed Drake’s wrists. He tried to chuckle casually. “Oh, no. Not me, Drake. That’s just not for me.”

  “Oh, yes it is,” Drake ordered, and he gestured for Rose to join them. They had sort of a group hug, with Drake insisting, “How do you know until you try? Rose and I agree, we both want to watch and film your pleasure.”

  Rose added, “So that in future years we can rewatch it and experience the pleasure again.”

  Future years? Jesse was a bit more convinced. He liked the idea that Rose spoke of a future together. He agreed with Drake that he could use a bit more loosening up.

  Rose said, “You’re used to being in front of a camera.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jesse agreed heatedly. “That’s not the part I’m worried about.”

  Rose got a devilish look on her face then and stepped away to grab a white plastic jar. She slithered the front of her torso, her breasts, her pubic mound, against Jesse’s naked side while dipping three fingers into the white stuff in the jar. She ran her plump, dry lips against the side of Jesse’s neck, bringing gooseflesh to his shoulders and nipples. His cock twitched, tenting out the G-string’s satin pouch even further, when she touched her greasy fingers to the cleft of his ass.

  “Trust us, Jesse,” she whispered, her breath feathering his neck, “we know what we’re doing.”

  But Jesse knew that Rose didn’t know what she was doing. She was just as much of a newbie to this exotic erotic world of edgy sex as he was. They were both students to Drake’s master, learning and making it up as they went along. As Rose oiled up Jesse’s asshole with the white grease that smelled strongly of coconut, Drake took him by one arm and urged him to straddle the ottoman.

  Was it conceited of Jesse to feel aroused not only by Rose’s fingers greasing him up but by his impressive pole? It would look good on tape, his long cock stretching out the elastic thong that cut into his hips. The video camera’s green “on” light blinked at him suggestively. Drake kneeled next to him and took control of Jesse’s hips now, wiggling them forward and backward, just as if Jesse was riding a mechanical bull. The silicone finger prodded at his anus as Rose continued stroking the tropical grease around Jesse’s perineum. Jesse vacillated between feeling aroused beyond belief and abject terror. He found that, in a way, the two went hand in hand.

  “That’s good,” Drake soothed, rotating Jesse’s hips around the dildo. “Sink down on it a little at a time. Feel how good it is to be penetrated, to be fucked. Women get to feel this all the time, right Rose?”

  “Right, Drake.” Now Rose kneeled at Jesse’s side. She slipped her other greasy hand down Jesse’s front between the thong and his balls. She stroked the perineum from this angle, her fingers meeting in the middle, cradling Jesse in the most intimate manner possible. “When you’re penetrated, you feel the power of the desire you’re creating in the other person. You feel sexy and desirable. You wouldn’t believe how raunchy and seductive you look, Jesse. Sink down on it. Gyrate your hips around and feel it from every angle.”

  Jesse gasped w
hen Rose slithered a few fingers around his balls, massaging them sensuously. She had distracted him so successfully he barely noticed that the dildo had slid more than an inch inside of him. And yes, it did feel good. His thighs would get tired soon from holding himself up. I may as well just sink down on it. Jesse did, and gasped again when the dildo hit a certain spot that sent semen surging up the length of his prick.

  Drake must have noticed, because he cupped his palm around Jesse’s bursting satin-clad glans and murmured, “Good boy. Good boy. Wiggle around and feel it from every angle. Ride it like it’s a nice dick inside of you, like you love being pierced and invaded like this.”

  Breathing in and out rhythmically as though meditating, Jesse did as Drake instructed. He found that every time the dildo rubbed past that one point, it felt as though more semen was injected from his balls. Drake must have pushed a button on the control box because the finger began vibrating inside of him. Jesse gripped the black saddle, holding himself up a bit. He was stimulated to know Rose and Drake—and the video camera—watched him avidly, but he didn’t want to shoot his load into Drake’s hand. He tried to stay still, letting the dildo vibrate deep inside him, resonating to his core.

  “I can tell it excites you.” Now Drake whispered lewdly into Jesse’s ear, maybe hoping his words would take Jesse’s attention off the fact that he was sliding the taut satin pouch away from the straining head of his prick. Jesse’s cock popped out eagerly, the satin pouch now snapping to cradle his balls. Drake masturbated Jesse for a few ecstatic split seconds, his hand firmly gripping Jesse’s shaft and working some of the coconut oil into it. Jesse practically whimpered with the need to spend, and he bucked his hips so his cock was thrust into Drake’s slick hand. “Your cock is harder than ever with that thing up your ass. Admit it, Jesse. Admit that it excites you.”

  Jesse gasped, “It excites me.”

  This seemed to please Drake. Now he purred, “I know what would excite you even more.”

  “Ah!” Jesse cried out loudly when he felt a warm mouth close over the head of his cock. He looked down to see Rose’s spun-honey blonde hair bobbing away as she kneeled by the ottoman and a rush of love surged through Jesse’s chest. Rose was always eager to pleasure him. Jesse gyrated more frantically on the dildo in an effort to thrust his dick down Rose’s throat, but Drake had other plans.

  Jesse barely noticed that Drake was now standing next to him. Drake’s own hard-on bulged eagerly, framed by the chaps, nearly slapping Jesse against the face with urgency. Jesse was filled with a wild mixture of dread and hope for what might happen next. Drake gripped his own cock at the base, pointing the bulging crown directly at Jesse’s mouth. “You know you want to suck me,” said the Dom. “You know you’ve been dreaming of it for weeks, wondering what my cock tastes like, what it’d feel like to have it in your mouth. You want to suck me badly, Jesse. You can already taste it, you want it so bad.”

  And suddenly Jesse did.

  Maybe it was Drake’s mesmerizing, commanding tone. Or maybe it was just his delicious prick standing out so powerfully, all veined and purple. Drake stroked his own abdomen almost absent-mindedly as though unaware of his own beauty, his pectorals bulging with the dusting of salt-and-pepper hair covering them.

  And suddenly Jesse did want nothing more than to take that bulging dick into his mouth and suck hard. Gripping the cock, Jesse sank it down his throat just as Rose was doing to him. Immediately he felt the power Rose must feel. It was a potent feeling, knowing that the simple actions of suckling and lapping and drinking the cock were causing Drake to sigh and groan.

  Every time he stroked the underside of the throbbing dick with the flat of his tongue, a groan caught in Drake’s throat. Jesse felt like a thoroughly powerful yet submissive pet as he pleasured the domineering horndog with his mouth. He now understood what was in it for women, what they got out of it when they took his big, uncomfortable prick in their mouths. It was power, sheer unbelievable power, holding a man’s very orgasm in your grip, against your tongue.

  So when Jesse came explosively in Rose’s hungry mouth, he was unprepared. He must’ve been too turned on by his newfound power, the musky scent, the squeaky, bulging head of Drake’s cock against his upper palate, to notice he was so close to orgasm. He didn’t detach his mouth from the penis as Rose expertly drained him. Now he knew there was a sensitive spot somewhere in his rectum that pretty much caused instantaneous orgasm, and the silicone finger was diddling him just as expertly. His cock pulsed milky life into Rose’s sweet mouth, but Jesse kept his wits as Drake fucked his mouth, and he barely missed a beat. It made Jesse even hotter to think he was the first man to ever suck this virile mail-order cowboy—knowingly, anyway.

  “God, you’re good,” grunted Drake as Rose lapped Jesse’s cock like it was a candy cane, cleaning every last drop of seed. “You’re just as good as any woman. Suck me, Jesse. Suck me like you love it.”

  By that time, Jesse was fairly certain he did love cocksucking—and maybe loved Drake Stinson more than a little. He put his all into it, and was soon rewarded with a warm gusher of salty jism that shot to the back of his throat. He manfully swallowed it all, recalling how many times he’d actually felt sorry for the poor women who had struggled to swallow his load. Rose turned off the Sybian that was fingering Jesse’s ass but he sucked as though he swallowed life itself, snorting through his nostrils, pleased at every twitch and grunt he elicited from the overbearing Dom. Jesse found himself wishing he had had the presence of mind to slide his own middle finger up Drake’s ass. The times women had done that to him while sucking him brought to mind the sensitive spot the diddling machine had found in him.

  Jesse found he was even reluctant to disengage once Drake pushed with his palm against his forehead. Jesse knew well how it could actually start hurting if one continued stimulation past the point of orgasm, but maybe he wanted to give Drake a taste of his sadistic medicine, and he kept sucking, the crown of Drake’s penis lodged against his tonsils.

  “Oh, God, man!” Drake shoved Jesse hard now, and Jesse’s mouth came away with a loud popping sound.

  Jesse grinned. He felt pumped up, commanding as Drake spun around and walked away, staggering as though he’d been rode hard and put up wet. It filled Jesse with satisfaction and a fondness for Drake. He’d been able to satisfy the demanding, particular Dom—just as Rose had just satisfied him. He dismounted the Sybian Scene and staggered a bit, too, causing Drake to laugh heartily and slap him on the shoulder.

  “See?” teased Drake. “It ain’t so bad being heteroflexible now, is it?”

  Heteroflexible. Jesse pondered on that as he staggered to the bathroom. Is that what I am? His pants were hanging on a hook, so he got his smart phone and googled the term. Hmm. Heteroflexible. It seemed to mean someone who was basically straight at heart but upon a few rare occasions could find fulfillment swinging both ways. The term set comfortably with Jesse as it didn’t seem derogatory, and he quickly washed up and put his clothes back on.

  He saw just a flash of Joaquin Miller’s serious face at the bedroom door as Drake closed it again, the two men meeting in the hallway outside. That’s strange. It wasn’t surprising that their scenes be interrupted by ranch business, but it was usually Stony who busted in. The ranch manager Joaquin rarely ever came to the house. His Shining Lands ranch headquarters was a roomy house about five miles out in the desert scrubland.

  “What did Joaquin want?” asked Jesse.

  Rose reclined on the massive king bed, making sure not to put her boots on the bedspread, and Jesse joined her, shoeless, stroking her hair. “Real odd. He said something about a cow’s head. Maybe they’re making…What’s that lunch meat called?”

  “Head cheese?” Jesse frowned. “That’s a lunch meat? It’s not cheese?”

  “No, it’s a terrine of head parts set in aspic.”

  “Oh, delicious.” Jesse took Rose’s chin in his fingers and tilted her face to his. “Listen. We’ve got a few hours befor
e you have to be back at the Cavern. Why don’t we work on the new painting?”

  Rose was extremely creeped out that Burt Macklin had stolen the nearly finished painting of her, especially when he’d left a Seurat and dozens of other valuable objets d’art. Him and his greasy hair had been overly interested in her the one time they’d met near the bathroom at the Cavern. Jesse was all for going tit for tat and sending someone else to break into Burt’s house, but Drake was on this new roll of doing everything by the books. Drake didn’t want to tell the cops he suspected Burt. For one, they’d get nowhere fast. It was easy to hide a contract, and by now the painting of Rose could be far, far away. Drake also didn’t want to tip his hand in his plan to blow the whistle on Burt and his cushy kitchen remodel. But now Drake’s big plan to show the federal authorities the illegal contract was out the window with the disappearance of the contract, so Jesse didn’t really know what Drake’s current plan was.

  “Sure.” Jesse could tell Rose was trying to put a happy spin on things. Her lower lip jutted out prettily, and she put her all into being a real trooper. “Sure, let’s get moving back to your cottage.”

  The couple didn’t move far. The bedroom door burst open and Drake strode in on long legs, heading for the back sliding door. As was usual, he didn’t seem to care that his long hose of a dick swung back and forth freely in the crotch of the chaps. Stony Curtis, and now Joaquin Miller, had probably seen worse in their times. Jesse and Rose sat upright with wide eyes as Joaquin flew past, babbling in Spanish. Jesse had learned a bit of Spanish in his Southern California decorating years, and he knew they were still talking about the cow’s head, Burt Macklin, and…Rose?

  Jesse made it to the sliding door before Rose did. His stomach clenched in horror as his brain struggled to figure out what he was looking at. He had to cling to the doorjamb, and he was glad he blocked the doorway and prevented Rose from looking.