Menage

by Molly Ann Wishlade

  “Grace?” His voice carried through the door.

  “Hold on…” She released the latch and opened the door a fraction then peered out.

  “Morning, ma’am.”

  She smiled. Matt still appeared sleepy but he was fully dressed, including his Stetson, which he removed as he met her eyes. “Morning, Matt.”

  “Everything okay?” he queried.

  “Yes…why do you ask?”

  “Um…thought you said breakfast was at five a.m.” He gave a sheepish grin. “Did I get the time wrong?”

  Grace gasped. She had said five a.m. for breakfast, just last night. She must have slept in longer than usual. But how? Why? Had she been more relaxed than she had realised following dinner? She hadn’t laughed like that or eaten so well in years.

  She opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter.

  “Please. Come in. I…I guess I slept in.” She blushed. “Which isn’t like me…not like me at all.”

  She crossed the room to the table then turned to him. “Matt? What’s wrong?”

  He filled the doorway, his large shape dark against the morning light outside. She knew that he was staring at her even though she couldn’t clearly see his eyes. She glanced down. And sighed.

  He could see right through her nightdress. With the flickering fire behind and the light seeping through the door, the thin material was probably almost transparent. A voice in her head screamed at her to run or to cover herself. Get under the table and hide. This wasn’t right. She had hated it whenever Jack ogled her with lust in his eyes.

  “Matt?” Her voice was strained. Her breathing shallow. “What…what is it?”

  She knew that she should turn and flee to the bedroom. She should cover herself, hide from his prying eyes. But she was frozen to the spot. Held in place by his stare. The longer she stood there, the hotter she became. Her skin was suddenly more sensitive. Her breasts tightened and the nipples hardened into tight little buds. She knew that he saw this. She sagged as he let out a shaky breath.

  Because of her. He had reacted to her body.

  Why wasn’t she moving?

  He took a step forwards and her mouth dried up completely. She could barely swallow. What would he do? If he were Jack, she’d be quaking with fear right now, consumed by horror that she’d have to endure his foul body on top of hers again.

  But it wasn’t horror that gripped her right now.

  She gripped the material of the nightdress, just in front of her groin. Her knuckles brushed her mound and she shivered. She was hot down there. Being nearly naked in front of this virtual stranger was arousing her in ways that Jack never had in all those years. Was this wrong?

  She didn’t care. She wanted to see Matt’s naked chest again and to press her breasts against it. To allow him to touch her between her legs where she now tingled unbearably. Was this what real need was like? Not the revulsion that had possessed her whenever Jack took his marital rights as he called them. This was so different. So intense. So real.

  If it was given willingly…the act between a man and a woman…could it be pleasurable?

  The racing of her heart suggested that it could be. Jack had made her heart race. But not with delight. And it was delight that she embraced at this moment. Matt clearly liked what he could see and she was excited by his approval.

  “Grace.” Matt’s voice was deep, husky.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…you’re…pardon me for being forward and all but you are so beautiful.”

  She forced herself to turn then. To pull her needy body from his gaze, retreating to the safe and familiar routine of making coffee. From the corner of her eye she could see her heart pounding beneath her left breast. Her cunny ached with need. She wanted Matt’s caress. And she was shocked at her own indecent thoughts. Yet her body hummed with longing. It had been an eternity since she had enjoyed such longing and she welcomed it. Desire made her feel alive. Awake. Special.

  “Coffee?” She kept her eyes on the pot, battling the urge to turn and beg him to look at her again. Her hands trembled as she worked. She had enjoyed such warmth, such pleasure in being regarded with desire. For it was desire, she was sure. If he had been repulsed, he would have looked away. He had said that she was beautiful. Beautiful!

  But if she was really, truly beautiful then why had Jack, her own husband, become so mean towards her? Everything about her had annoyed him to the point where he was unable to keep his anger reined in. Would this man, Matt, become the same if she gave herself to him? If she surrendered her body and maybe, just maybe, her heart, would he break her upon his powerful male altar?

  She shook her head. Foolish worrying. She would never find out. She stirred sugar into the cups then handed him one, silently cursing her shaking hand.

  “I’m gonna go get dressed then I’ll make some breakfast.” She glanced at him. He held his Stetson before him, fingering the rim agitatedly. His blond hair shone and she wanted to reach up and run her fingers through it. To inhale its scent. To be held in his strong arms. Just once, for a short time. It would be so good to be with a man like him. If he was as good inside as he looked on the outside.

  Perhaps he could help her to forget how bad it had been with Jack. Like a dip in the cleansing river, perhaps he could wash away her fears and her pain.

  There I go again! Fool. Dreamer.

  She marched into the bedroom and shut the door. She was a widow. She was clearly reacting to the loneliness that had threatened to consume her recently. Two handsome men and she was a quivering wreck being led by her cunny.

  How naughty.

  She lifted the hem of her nightdress and slipped a hand between her legs before she could talk herself out of it.

  As she had suspected, she was wet. And hot. And extremely sensitive. Her own touch made her whole body quiver.

  Just the other side of the door was a man who made her heart beat faster. No one need ever know if she gave herself to him right now. It would be their secret. Their joy.

  She ran her forefinger over her swollen bud. It was so good. She couldn’t remember the last time she had thought of touching herself. She had spent so much energy trying to avoid Jack’s sadistic lusty rages that her own desire had been buried. Deeply. She had believed that she would never experience arousal again. And the saddest part of it all was that she had accepted it. Like she accepted the snow in the winter or the increase of bugs in the summer.

  She accepted now that she would like to feel Matt…or Blake’s cock. Deep inside her. If she were given a choice…how would she decide? Stuff and nonsense. She could never be that fortunate.

  Just the other side of the door. Matt.

  She swirled a figure of eight over her pussy. As the sensation became more pleasurable, she increased the pace. Faster and firmer. Faster and firmer. She rubbed and stroked. Parted then delved. Spreading her own moisture around her private parts and savouring the wonderful way that it made her feel alive. Nothing mattered but the moment.

  Suddenly too warm, she pulled her nightdress over her head then leant her back against the door. She closed her eyes to block out the image of the bed. The wood of the door was cool next to her skin. The slight discomfort as the hard surface pressed into the scars on her back just heightened the sensations. She held her pussy lips apart with one hand then thrust two fingers of the other into her warmth, keeping her thumb on her swollen bud. It was so good. She felt so free.

  She began to soar as she thought of Matt. Imagined him watching her now. Strange that being stared at by him could arouse her so when Jack’s glare had sickened her. But they were different. Jack had taken her against her will. She wished Matt could just take her. Teach her how to enjoy being a hot-blooded woman.

  Maybe he could hear her or he knew what she was doing. Her arousal increased and she touched herself harder. She kept a steady rhythm with her right hand. She opened her eyes and peered down at her perfect pink pussy lips. She
imagined Matt’s cock there as he drove it into her while Blake watched and played with himself. The image sent her hurtling over the edge, bucking onto her fingers like a woman possessed.

  When her climax had slowed and her pussy stopped pulsing around her fingers, she withdrew them, offering her sensitive clit one last feather-light caress. It sent an aftershock through her core which tingled through her limbs to her extremities.

  Her hands were soaked with her juices. She could smell her own musky arousal. Her plait had come undone and her blonde hair now fell about her sweat-streaked face, tumbling over her pert little breasts.

  She felt elated. She felt alive. And she wondered at the effect that two handsome cowboys had had upon her in less than a day. She was a woman. Mayhap even a comely one. Her body and her heart had needs. Needs that she had denied for a long time when she had closed herself down. Shut herself off from passion and all that it could evoke in herself and Jack. Because she hated Jack’s touch. Hated his desire. Hated him.

  Did she have the courage to act upon her reawakening desire by taking a man to her bed? It would be the ultimate farewell to her late husband, a way to leave him behind forever. An act of perfect rebellion.

  She grinned as she realised that over the next few days, she might just have the opportunity to find out. It made her quake with anxiety. She could be about to stir up a hornet’s nest with her wanton thoughts and irrational behaviour. But after being so cautious for half a decade, she yearned to throw off her fears like old clothes and to run around the yard naked as the day she was born.

  Yes, she might be able to find out if being with a man could be pleasurable. But only if she was brave enough. Wanton enough. Even crazy enough.

  ****

  Matt stood in the small room. Waiting. Grace had gone into the bedroom to dress and she’d been gone some time.

  He held his Stetson over his groin.

  Go down! Go down!

  His cock was refusing to comply. Seeing Grace in her nightgown had aroused him and his erection now throbbed in his trousers. She was so petite, so beautiful. With her face fresh and relaxed after a night’s rest and her golden hair sticking out from her plait she was an angel fallen to earth. Even though the nightgown had been discoloured and worn. And thin. So thin. His heart pounded. His cock throbbed harder.

  He had been able to see right through to her naked flesh beneath. She was so slight. So tiny. But even so, she curved in and out in all the right places. Her breasts were small and firm. The nipples a dusky pink as they protruded behind the cotton. Between her thighs, the dark blonde curls had been obvious.

  It had been so long since a woman had made him feel this way. But Grace was different. He’d known it when he’d first laid eyes on her. In her dirty work dress and with a headscarf covering her pretty hair, he had recognised something in her that made him want to take care of her. Like Rebecca. It was an innate goodness of the soul and a sensuality that he hadn’t seen in many women. Something about her was just right. She was right.

  But she had been mistreated. He could see that too. The way that she sometimes stooped to protect her back. As if sheltering herself from a blow. It made his heart ache. And she was wary. There was no doubt about it. But just then, when he had gazed at her, unable to drag his eyes away from her form, she had responded. The air between them had been tense, like the air before a thunderstorm.

  Something was building.

  He sensed it. He welcomed it.

  But he also feared it.

  After Rebecca, he had sworn off women. They were too fragile. It was too dangerous for Blake and him to fall in love. He must not allow that defensive wall to crumble. Another loss and he would crumble too. And then how would Blake manage? His lover relied upon him. He was his rock. He knew it. As Blake was his.

  But to have another woman in their life! As much as it was a risk it also lit up his horizon like the morning sun. To share what love he had with Blake with a beautiful woman who needed them too. That was the only time that he had ever really been complete.

  Could Grace be the woman to fix them? To make them whole again?

  He heard a sigh from the bedroom. He took a step into the room then another one. Was she hurt?

  Beneath the door, where there was a gap, he saw the shadow of her feet as they moved. What was she doing? Had she removed her nightgown? Did she stand naked now? Exposed? He reached beneath his hat and squeezed his cock. It was rock-hard. His balls ached. He wanted to follow Grace into the bedroom and take her. Find out if she really was as sensual as he imagined. As he believed. But if he did that, would it be right?

  She was a widow. Vulnerable. It might be the wrong time. He shouldn’t think on his own desires too much.

  He turned away and something caught his eye.

  On the small couch, near the front door, was a blanket and a nightcap. Had Grace slept there? Why? Surely, she had a bed in the other room.

  He jumped as Blake appeared around the door.

  “Hey there.” Blake offered his endearing smile. He removed his hat as he came into the cabin and approached Matt. He followed Matt’s eyes to the couch and frowned.

  “I think she slept there last night,” Matt explained.

  “Doesn’t she have a bed?” Blake asked.

  Matt shrugged. “Seems strange to me.”

  “What’s she doing now?” Blake gestured at the bedroom door.

  “Dressing.” Matt spoke softly as images of Grace flooded his mind again. Was she struggling with her corset? Should he offer to help lace it up then run his hands around her ribcage to cup those perky bosoms? To squeeze the dark pink nipples until she cried with pleasure? He could cradle them in between his fingers as Blake tickled them with his tongue. They could kiss her all over, one in front and one behind until she screamed with pleasure and need. Need for them.

  Blake gestured at Matt’s hat which still covered his groin. “Problem?” He raised his eyebrows.

  Matt’s cheeks warmed. Blake knew him so well. “She was…um…in her nightgown when I arrived. It was extremely thin. Transparent actually.”

  Blake’s face lit up with a knowing grin. “Wish I’d been here.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Matt stated the fact. “But…”

  “I know.” Blake nodded.

  Matt knew that he understood. They had spoken about it briefly before they hit the hay last night. Grace was sweet. They had enjoyed their evening with her, bouncing off one another as they tried to make her smile and laugh. Her pretty laughter tinkled like a silver bell and her smile was like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds. No. Like a rainbow after a storm. She was hope. Because she had made him wonder, made Blake wonder, if finally they could move on. If they could accept the loss of Rebecca and their tiny twins. If there was another woman they could love.

  They had thought that it would never happen. Never be possible. Finding a woman they both liked and who liked them in return was like finding a nail in a hayloft. And letting go of the past…of Rebecca…were they really ready?

  Grace made him believe that it might be so.

  But this was way too fast for comfort. Surely?

  “Rebecca,” Matt whispered.

  “We fell for her pretty damn fast too,” Blake confirmed. “Don’t forget that. And the joy of loving her…” His eyes glistened with memories.

  Matt reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He had to keep them both grounded. They were getting carried away like feathers on the breeze and if they weren’t careful they’d end up being swept into a muddy puddle and never resurface again.

  “One thing at a time. Now, over breakfast, I want to find out more about this…” He gestured at the couch. “Like why?”

  “Me too,” Blake added.

  Then the bedroom door opened and Grace appeared.

  She had donned the stained dress she had worn yesterday and covered her hair with the scarf. Her lovely long hair. But her cheeks had colour and her eyes were bright. She had the glow, Matt reali
sed, of a woman who had recently climaxed. His cock twitched.

  Dammit! Go down.

  “Coffee and eggs, boys?” Grace offered them a smile that did nothing to help him suppress his arousal. Her small white teeth appeared between her luscious pink lips and he longed to push his tongue between them to taste her sweet mouth.

  “That would be great, thank you, Grace.” He sat quickly at the table and discreetly adjusted his trousers.

  Grace Holbein, beautiful young widow, set about making his breakfast. He watched her every move, only glancing away now and then to meet Blake’s desire-darkened eyes. He knew. Blake knew. Grace was special and they both already wanted her.

  But would she want them too? Together? Or would it be too much to hope for that she might consider taking them both into her heart and into her bed?

  ****

  Grace ate heartily and polished the meal off with more coffee. It was wonderful to have an appetite. And to be free of fear. She was still cautious, admittedly, she had to be. These men could be hiding their real personas from her and she might have to defend herself at any moment. But surely, if Matt had been a danger, then he would have pounced on her earlier when she stood exposed before him?

  She was torn between her long-held distrust of men and her burgeoning need to believe that they were good. That they would treat her well.

  Matt and Blake were quieter than they had been last night but she attributed that to sleepiness. She hoped that the barn was comfortable enough for them. But where else could farmhands sleep? Not in the cabin. With her. Colour rushed up her chest and neck and into her face. Her cunny began to pulse with desire, still wet and tender from her own ministrations not that long ago.

  “Grace? You okay?” Blake frowned at her sudden flush.

  “Yes…Thank you. I’m fine.”

  “You’ve gone all…”

  Her colour deepened as her skin blazed. He’d spotted it. Well of course he had. How could he miss her fuchsia cheeks? What was it with blushing? If someone noticed it, it just got worse. Why couldn’t she be harder? Colder. Impenetrable. Even with Jack, she had struggled to hide her emotions. She’d erected a wall of apathy around herself but every so often, she’d betray herself by blushing or wincing, and then she would suffer the consequences of letting him see her feelings. He was bloodthirsty in his need to hurt her and it was as if he fed off her suffering.