Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

She felt the smile on his lips as he buried his face between her breasts. “I’ll do him one better.”

He dropped so suddenly to his knees Alameda was taken by surprise and had to steady herself against his powerful shoulders. Derrick nuzzled his handsome, stubbled face between her thighs, sending shivers up her spine, and she lunged her pussy toward his mouth.

The one beau she had had—to Mr. Ellis’s one hundred—had done this to her. He had performed “mouth congress” on her twice before Ralph had discovered what was going on and pitched a righteous fit, sending her fleeing to Laramie City. Hands down, it was the most delicious act Alameda had ever experienced, and to think it was about to be performed by the man she loved most in the world stimulated her so, she thought she might go out of her mind.

He breathed heatedly against her inner thighs and with the tip of his tongue found the slit in her stocking. His fingers pulled the edges of the slit apart, and he dove right in, applying tiny little licks to just the tip of her clitoris. One of her legs, with a mind of its own, instantly wrapped around his stalwart neck, and she cried, “Damn it all to hell, Derrick! Please! This is not the time to toy around!”

She felt him groan with pleasure against her labia and apply more enthusiastic lapping to her clitoris. She imagined she could feel it lengthen as it filled with blood, and she made tiny little humping motions against his face. By now her fingernails were probably digging trenches into his poor shoulders, and she leaned back against the kitchen counter as leverage for her hip thrusts. Just the thought that his sculpted, handsome face was between her thighs drove her to unimaginable heights, and her panting was making her lightheaded.

On the fringes of her awareness, a swath of lamplight bathed the kitchen floor as the door to the dining room opened. The silhouette of someone wearing a long, straight robe entered. At the moment, Alameda didn’t care much whether or not Ivy decided to join in the fun. She wanted her orgasm, and she wanted it
now!
Ivy could damned well get her tea and leave—or leave without her tea!

The figure kneeled on the floor behind Derrick and uttered a satisfied, masculine groan. Just as Alameda’s climax was building to a crescendo, the figure began humping Derrick’s luscious, rounded ass, distracting him from his task at hand.

* * * *

Derrick could tell by the woodsy scent of cedar it was Rudy who had kneeled behind him. Rudy who massaged his stiff prick against Derrick’s tailbone.

Derrick detected from the copious flow of sweet pussy juice that Alameda was on the verge of another of her by-now-famous monumental orgasms. He eagerly awaited feeling what it was like to have this sultry minx explode all over his face. Already her sweet nectar dripped from his chin, the bulging clitoris quivering against his tongue. So he backed off, risking her ire, to see what Rudy planned to do. Rudy was not taking this prize away from him, by God. Alameda’s orgasm would be his triumph.

But he was also becoming increasingly aroused by the plump, juicy prick wedged in the crack of his ass. He had frigged that tasty cock till Rudy had squirted him with jism—had even licked it from his fingers, surprised to find the milky gobs tasted saltier than his own—and now his curiosity was fired up. What did Rudy have in mind?

He slowed his licking as Rudy unbuttoned his pants. He allowed Rudy to yank them down, even squiggling his hips to assist. Derrick’s cock sprang free, eager for release. Above him, Alameda whimpered and squeaked like a small rodent, begging for discharge, but now Derrick enjoyed tormenting her with little catlike laps.

Rudy gave a few twisting jerks to Derrick’s cock, but then he was gone. Derrick groaned in desperation, but Rudy was back in a flash kneeling behind him. Rudy pressed some rounded, cold, and hard object to his anus. It wasn’t Rudy’s cock, but he had greased the object up, and it slid easily up his rectum.

Derrick gasped at the sudden invasion. Swiftly he found that there was a thin line between pain and pleasure as Rudy inched this object inside him. If he relaxed, panting like a dog against Alameda’s distended clitoris, Rudy could screw the object inside him lewdly, and waves of pleasure began washing over him. Of course he’d never been sodomized by a foreign object, but he was starting to suspect it could be pleasurable, especially with Rudy’s lascivious talk, murmuring in his ear.

“Do you like this, Derrick? Do you like being fucked by this dildo?”

So that’s what it was. How did Rudy have a dildo handy? Rudy was so lecherous it didn’t surprise Derrick, but he could hardly answer with his face smashed against Alameda’s steamy pussy. He just groaned, but this encouraged Rudy, who squiggled the dildo another inch inside him.

Rudy cradled Derrick’s back to his torso now, his free hand snaking around and gripping Derrick’s prick with a palm full of grease. “You like being buggered by another man, don’t you,” Rudy suggested. “You like having this long, hard thing up your ass. God, your cock is the biggest I’ve ever had in my fist. You’re well-hung like a stallion, did you know that? You’ve got the most beautiful, fattest circumcised tool I’ve ever frigged. Does it make you hot licking your fetching belle like that, coaxing an explosive orgasm from her?”

“Damn it to hell, Rudy!” Alameda shrieked so loudly the neighbors next door could probably hear her. She had the high-pitched, nearly hysterical tone of a woman who would tear someone’s head off if she wasn’t satisfied this instant. Derrick had heard that tone before from his wife, Cora, and more recently from Alameda herself, and she would not be ignored. “Shut up with your nasty talk and just
give it to him!
”
Gripping the back of Derrick’s head, she smashed his face to her pussy and humped his face frantically.

Derrick would have laughed if he wasn’t being buggered and frigged forty-six ways to Sunday. Rudy’s experience in the underworld of bumfucking was sending Derrick over the edge. He had the showman’s ability to manipulate the dildo with precision, simultaneously corkscrewing his fist up and down the length of Derrick’s pleasured cock, his thumb describing ecstatic figure eights. Derrick heard Rudy chuckle at the exact moment the dildo hit a highly sensitive spot Derrick had never known existed, and what felt like a bucket of jism instantly shot from his aroused cock.

Derrick somehow had the presence of mind to reapply himself to his lapping. He was rewarded when Alameda’s keening became higher and higher in pitch like a teakettle about to boil. When he heard her hold her breath he knew she was set to topple over that cliff and plunge into a wrenching orgasm. Rudy milked Derrick’s cock and continued to expertly fuck him while a tidal wave of sweet pussy juice poured from Alameda.

By now her thigh was constricted around his neck, and she clutched his skull so tightly he was having trouble inhaling, but he wanted to ride the waves of her ecstasy. He was proud that this orgasm seemed to last longer than the one Rudy had given her—maybe a full five minutes. He wasn’t terribly cognizant with the lack of air to his brain and the orgasm Rudy still coaxed from his throbbing prick.

When Alameda finally released her grip on his skull and even shoved him away, Derrick fell back on his ass like an empty sack of chicken feed. Alameda stumbled to lean on another counter, panting as though about to puke into a bowl, while Derrick wiped his saturated face on his sleeve.

Rudy was also bowled back on his ass, laughing in disbelief and approval at their antics. He seemed unaware that he looked completely absurd wearing what looked like one of C. Chang’s collarless robes, gripping a marble pestle he’d probably grabbed from a mortar on some counter.

Derrick had to laugh, too, that he’d just been reamed by a kitchen implement. “You’re so inventive, Remington Rudy,” he said weakly.

“Hey,” Rudy said modestly. “It’s the tricks of the trade. It’s the duty of all magicians to give entertainment.”

“Dear Lord,” panted Alameda, holding her stomach. She looked heavenly from behind like this, the slope of her ass under the diaphanous stocking fabric like a serene, glowing moon. Turning around, she laughed at the sight of Rudy. “Whatever
are
you wearing?”

Rudy stood, going to toss the pestle into the sink. “Well, when I ran out of Chang’s, I realized I still had no shirt. Just the thought of me, the alleged murderer of Kittie, tearing through the circus troupe’s encampment put the fear of God into me, so I rushed back and asked Chang for some disguise.” From the depths of the robe he pulled out a little cap and tugged it onto his head then withdrew something that looked like a black garter snake and affixed it to his upper lip. “Makes for good disguise!” he proclaimed.

Derrick was incredulous. He had to grab the handles of a drawer to lug himself to his feet, where he swayed as though roostered. “You ran around the encampment dressed like a riceman?” He tore the fake mustache from Rudy to discover it was really a very long shriveled mushroom. Or so he hoped. One never knew with C. Chang, Proprietor.

“Well,” said Rudy. “It was better than running around looking like Rudy Dunraven, Cinnabar Murderer of Kittie Wells. Castillo was just coming around when I left Chang’s, so I didn’t have much time, but I searched in his tent.” He shrugged. “I didn’t care if it was obvious someone had been rifling through things. The way he’s hallucinating, he might not even notice.”

“Or think some elephant did it,” Alameda suggested.

“Right. I have to say, I didn’t find much. Only that two beds were made up inside the tent, so it’s possible Kittie could have been held there, drugged, sleeping. I did find these in one of the beds.”

Derrick had to squint to see what Rudy held up to the lamplight. But Rudy had clearly found about six strands of long blonde hair. “He’s our culprit, by God! And the only way we’re going to prove it is by shadowing Castillo around. You can’t do it, obviously. You can’t leave this house without being lynched, unless you’re dressed like an oiled, loco riceman. And I don’t want Alameda stumbling around in the snow, so that leaves only me.”

“I’d like to get my spirit cabinet back, too,” said Rudy. “If they haven’t already smashed it up for kindling. What did you find when you went back to the Oddfellows Hall?”

Alameda said, “We didn’t get very far. The crowd was far too unruly. I’ll get your cabinet back tomorrow, and I can keep rehearsing the play to keep an eye on Castillo. I’ll go to Kittie’s house for a viewing of the body, to pay my respects.”

“Yes,” Derrick told Rudy. “Alameda had a very good idea. Remember when Castillo was raving about women’s toes? Their dainty little pinkie toes or some such perverted drivel? Well, Alameda used to know a fellow who was very, shall we say, overly
interested
in women’s feet. He liked to smell their shoes.”

Alameda added, “He liked to wash their feet and also to paint their toenails. Not with cinnabar, but he painted them all the same. He usually had to pay a woman to allow this sort of odd behavior, but it was harmless, really.”

Rudy chuckled. “I’ve heard of worse sorts of odd behaviors. But that’s a good idea. Check Kittie’s feet, see if they’re painted. Chang can testify to that perverted obsession Castillo was blathering about, inasmuch as anyone will believe the word of a riceman around these parts.”

Alameda sighed heavily. “It would help immensely if Marshal Tempest could make it back to town. But we can’t expect him to fly over miles of snowdrifts.” She snatched her rust-red suit from the pile on the floor. She had never looked lovelier than this moment, all bouncing curves and silken coils of dark hair that had come undone from her coiffure. “Well, Percy was right. The cabinet
did
bring Kittie back. Just not in the way we imagined.”

“Yes.” Derrick frowned. “That fellow has a way of being much too literal. We should call him forth again, though. He obviously has some all-seeing abilities.”

“Tomorrow,” said Alameda wearily, walking past the two men to the dining room door. “I’m so exhausted I’m about to swoon. Rudy, you can’t go back to your hotel. Stay here. Sleep with Derrick.”

Derrick looked at Rudy as though they’d just been handed—well, free circus passes. But before they could get any ideas, Alameda turned around in the doorway and pointed a finger at them.

“No touching!”

Rudy pouted. “Aw.”

Alameda declared, “If you do, I’ll question Percy and get the truth out of him!”

Both men stared in awe at her voluptuous ass as she stalked out. Derrick’s mind was so heavy with so many thoughts that it must have reached its capacity for all rational thought. Suddenly his mind went blank, and he grabbed the lamp to bring it upstairs, Rudy following.

The next morning, while Alameda was dressing to take the sleigh to Kittie’s, an angry mob had gathered in front of Albuquerque House.

The heavy curtains of her bedroom window were closed, of course, but she could hear men shouting. She drew the curtains aside a fraction of an inch, just enough to see Bob Freund and his cohorts waving rifles around in the snowy front yard.

“Give us Remington Rudy!” Bob was shouting.

Others shouted, “Give us the murderer of Kittie Wells!”

Alameda whispered, “Oh, dear Lord.” The sun shone brilliantly today, the only thing that would assist Neil Tempest in getting back to Laramie and calming these roughnecks down.