Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

He could force her to do anything he wanted, could overpower her and make her do the wicked things that she craved.

The first time she’d heard how three men could enter a woman at the same time she’d gasped in shock. But tiny Amelia MacDougal had hinted of eagerly taking Gillis, Ross, and Nevin at once. Gillis was fourteen inches taller than Amelia and as wide as a barrel. If she could sigh over being pleasured by those three men at once, then so could Sophie.

Her pussy throbbed at the thought of being held as she fought to escape. She dreamed about being tied to the bed blindfolded, unable to resist as a man did whatever he wanted. One of her favorite fantasies involved rejecting the demand to undress and getting her clothes ripped off. She would fight him, refusing to give in, but he would overpower her. Perhaps he’d throw her on the bed and spank her before plowing into her. Or he’d turn her around and take her against the wall. Or he’d force her to bend over a table as he took her from behind, mercilessly pounding into her.

A table just like the one Max used to iron his shirt. She swallowed hard, panting in her excitement.

But just because she wanted to be sexually overpowered didn’t mean she was treated as little more than a servant the rest of the time. No, she was a strong, confident woman, and that would not change.

Max laughed at something Billy said, throwing back his head and revealing white teeth inside those full lips. Lips that could kiss her gently or with the wild force that she craved. That deep laugh had swept over her breasts to land between her legs. Her pussy quivered, an unusual feeling that was more of an awareness than anything else. She held back a moan. All she wanted from the man was an orgasm!

Max walked to the stove to switch irons. It gave her a view of his broad shoulders and wide back. His pants curved out below his belt. She’d never seen the back side of him without a coat. He had a very nice set of curved buttocks. She could curl her fingers into them, pulling him deep inside and demanding he take her harder.

Her pussy lips swelled like slices of dried apple in hot water. If she had worn drawers today, they’d be soaked. Max turned. She jerked her head back, but soon peeked again. He stood beside Billy holding the hot iron.

“Turn my shirt around so I can do around the buttons.”

“Men don’t iron shirts,” scoffed Billy. “Pa says it’s a woman’s job to take care of her man.”

Billy crossed his arms in refusal. She pressed her lips together at the boy’s attitude, so typical of the men she’d known. Her mother had said the same, serving her father as if he was a prince. She did it even after they both worked long days in the hotel he owned. Sophie had done the same for Amos, but things changed when she became a widow. She would not go back to fussing over a demanding man. Even if Max didn’t do women’s work, at least he understood what was involved and could appreciate it.

She listened, needing to hear Max’s reaction. Tonight she’d seen another side of him. He was so changeable, she didn’t know who the real man was. He could talk like he’d never been near a grammar book, then speak as if he was a scholar. How much was an act to gather evidence, and how much was the real man?

“Women’s work?” asked Max mildly. Billy jerked his head in a nod. “Here’s a question for you. How many men are there in Montana Territory for each unmarried woman?” Billy shrugged as if he didn’t care. Max flipped the shirt over as if he’d done it dozens of times. “How many husbands do each of the valley wives share?”

“Three,” said Billy grudgingly.

“Three men sharing one woman and happy to do it. And why? Because there aren’t enough good women to go around. Billy, there are about three
hundred
single men in Montana Territory for every available woman. If you’re going to live here, you’d best learn how to take care of yourself because there’s a good chance you’ll end up on your own.”

“Why bother ironing yer shirt? Yer coat covers it anyways.”

Max looked up. He flicked his eyes in her direction before dropping them to his work again. She caught her breath. Had he seen her? She waited for him to say something, but he was silent. Perhaps she’d been safely in the shadow. The room was dim except for the circle of light from the lamp hanging over the table.

“A man has a far better chance catching a good woman if he’s clean, neat, sober, and can take care of himself.”

“I’m clean. Pa makes me warsh from ears to toes every week.” Billy, lips pushed out in disgust, held out his hands. “Miss Sophie makes me dabble my hands every dang time I come in the kitchen.” He jammed his elbows on the table and looked up to Max. “If you find yerself a wife, you won’t have to do this no more.”

Max leaned forward and dropped his voice. “You want to hear a secret, man to man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a very important reason a man does his woman’s chores now and then.”

Sophie found herself leaning forward to listen. Max looked up, straight at her. She gulped. He
had
seen her. There was laughter in his eyes as well as a smile on his lips. Though he looked away a second later, the effects lingered. Her tight nipples pressed against her shift as if she was chilled, yet the kitchen’s heat had not yet faded. She could not blame her reaction on anything but Max.

“If my woman’s ironing my shirt, she’s not kissing me.” He winked at the boy. “I like kisses, every chance I get. Makes sense to do anything I can to get more.”

“Kiss girls?” Billy grimaced. “Emma’s always after me and Daniel to kiss her. We don’t want no girl’s slobbery lips.”

Max grinned. “I expect you’ll change your mind in the next five years.”

“You like kissing girls?”

Max’s laugh quivered down her spine, landing in her swollen pussy. She rubbed damp hands on her work apron. He set the iron on its plate, shook out his shirt, and slid his hands through the sleeves. All that gorgeous flesh was hidden except for a strip down his front. The white of the fabric made his tanned skin look even darker. It made her draw her eyes down to his belt, and below.

“Oh, my—”

She slapped a hand over her mouth and jerked back, out of sight. The bulge behind his buttons was immense. How would it feel to have her pussy stretched by such a cock? She splayed her hands against the cool wall on either side of her hips.

“I like kissing
women
,” corrected Max, emphasizing the last word. “I’m done. Your pa might want his pie now.”

Sophie stayed where she was, out of sight. A moment later Billy raced out, slamming the door behind him. She froze, nerves taut, heart pounding so loud she couldn’t hear a thing over it. What would Max do? He had to pass her to get to the back stairs leading to his room.

A faint slip of boot on wood was the only warning she got before large hands slid around her waist. She squeaked as his tall, warm body pressed her against the wall from shoulders to hips. Every nerve in her body tingled at his touch. He held her securely. Even if she tried to escape, she would not be able to.

“What about you, Miz McLeod? Do you like kissing?”

The deep chocolate words, whispered but distinct, flowed over her neck. She swallowed, unable to speak. His lips brushed past her ear. A soft moan escaped. She grabbed his shirt, needing something to hold so she didn’t wrap her arms around him. Her pussy throbbed with need. She couldn’t help rubbing her swollen breasts against his chest. A deep chuckle resonated against her own.

She’d waited her whole life to feel this. For once, she gave in to her desires.

When his lips brushed against hers, as if asking permission, she opened her mouth eagerly. His hands wrapped around her, snaking down to her bottom. He pulled her against him. Her belly burned where his hard cock branded her.

He kissed her, gently but with a demand she’d never felt. She responded, opening herself to him. He squeezed her soft buttocks, kneading them, keeping her close. She shifted her feet, spreading them to better keep her balance. One hand slid between her legs, pressing her skirt and petticoats against her mound.

“I think you want some of this,” he said.

His strong fingers rubbed in a circle above her swollen pussy. She felt his heat even through the layers. She broke the kiss, gasping to breathe. He rested his forehead against hers, chest heaving just as hard. His fingers didn’t stop, thank God. She tilted her pelvis up, silently begging for more. He moved his fingers.

“Oh, yes!”

She froze, unable to breathe, unwilling to move in case his touch slipped off her button. She’d found the spot herself but never, ever had it felt like this. His fingers rubbed slowly, one each side, up and down.

She fisted her hands in his shirt and yanked him down. He growled and took her mouth. She rubbed herself against his chest, arousing her tight nipples. The sensations against her mouth and breasts and pussy combined into something greater than she’d ever experienced.

“Yes, Max,” she moaned, thrusting against him.

“I’m not…” He pulled away.

“No!” she moaned.

He growled something, then his hands went under her skirt. Hot flesh touched her thighs. She groaned, needing him to find that spot, to put his finger on her flesh.

“Please!”

She hated herself begging, but she’d die if she didn’t have more. It was as if she’d lived her life in black and white and suddenly discovered color.

“Shh, I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured.

His hands rose. She shifted her feet to give him room. His fingers brushed between her slippery thighs, tantalizingly slow. She whimpered. He held her bottom with one hand. The other slid over her swollen pussy lips. She shivered and bent her knees slightly to open herself up to him.

“No drawers?” His groan tuned into a broken chuckle. “I like a woman who’s ready for me. You’re wet, Sophie.” His fingers pressed into her pussy. “Wet and wanting. I like that.”

She held her breath, unsure what would come next. He tilted his lips and savagely took her in a kiss. She returned it, hungry for anything he could give. He ground the heel of his hand into her mound while his fingers probed between her pussy lips. At the same time he rubbed his chest against her and filled her mouth with his tongue.

Sensation consumed her, along with a heat she’d never experienced. She pulled her mouth away, needing to breathe. His scent enveloped her. Clean male musk, a touch of ironed starch from his shirt, a hint of spice and leather.

He shifted his palm, taking over her clit with his fingers. Nothing existed but the fingers dancing over her flesh. A tension wound from deep inside, needing release. She knew it, had almost screamed over frustration of it, because she could never make it happen. There was more, she knew it, but hadn’t found what she needed.

“Let go, sweetie,” he murmured. “Let me show you how.”

He swallowed her pleas with his mouth. Nothing existed but his fingers on her clit, his hand squeezing her bottom, his mouth plunging into hers, his chest rasping her nipples. She thrust her hips against him, demanding more. Demanding that hard cock throbbing against her belly. Tension rose, higher and higher, until she exploded, her mind blank to everything but sensation. Sparkles appeared behind her eyes.

She found herself sobbing against him. One of his arms held her from collapsing. The other still stroked between her still-throbbing pussy lips. He murmured words she didn’t catch over the rushing in her ears.

It was so good. Too good. What she’d always wanted, yet not enough. She wanted more. She wanted his mouth on her pussy, sucking her clit before thrusting his cock inside her, again and again, until she screamed her release as he bellowed his.

She wanted him in all the ways Beth spoke of. She wanted to take him in her mouth. She wanted to have him fill her backside. She wanted two men at once. No, three!

“I’d love to give you more, Miz McLeod, but I’ll not take a lady against a wall.” A low chuckle reverberated against her. “At least, not the first time.”

She pushed against his chest. He released her. She staggered, then stumbled backward. He grasped her upper arms to hold her from falling. Heat seared her, shooting from her arms past her tingling breasts to her needy, still-throbbing pussy.

She wanted him. Wanted to drag him around the corner to her private bedroom. Wanted him to strip her naked and take her every way Beth said her men took her. Again and again until she was so sated she couldn’t even blink.

She came to earth with a crash. She stood in the hall with her skirts rucked up by a man’s hand. She held this near stranger with a grip so tight it was as if he’d saved her from drowning. And she wanted more!

She knew Max wanted her, and could bring her to heights never experienced. But what if she let him, and then tomorrow morning he pretended she was nothing to him? She would not let herself need a man who blew hot and cold. Max shunned her in public yet did this to her when alone. She would not tolerate it. Either he wanted her, or he didn’t.

“Don’t touch me!”

He backed away, hands up. “Now, sugar, don’t—”

“Don’t you ‘sugar’ me, Maxwell Gibson! You made it very clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She crossed her arms over her aching breasts. “I need you to catch Mr. Isaac. Otherwise I’d throw you out of my hotel tonight. Now get out of my kitchen!”