Training Ivy [How The West Was Done 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (25 page)

But eventually the push behind them was more powerful, and they popped free into the relatively spacious railcar. Breathing deeply, they gazed about at the splendor. Gilded molding in deep burgundies lined the car’s ceiling, and the plush velvet seats gleamed richly in the noon sun. Abandoned champagne glasses attested to the passengers’ hilarity, some of them currently trying to disembark through windows.

Neil glanced back and could only see Zeke’s hand squeezing the air, entombed in a knot of people.

He said, “Well, we’re inside. Might as well find Harley.”

They made their way through three more cars and into first class, where they peered into several elegant compartments. The antics in these compartments, where passengers seemed reluctant to vacate, were increasingly ribald, and Neil formed an idea of what sort of woman Zeke was waiting for. These were no schoolteachers, as he’d been led to believe. No upstanding wives for the lonely bachelors of Laramie City. These were just more hookers.

“Ah, well,” said Ivy, as though reading his mind. “We need more of them, too.”

A few women squeezed past Neil, ostrich plumes in their hair tickling his face. The next compartment door was closed, and Neil boldly slid it open.

There sat Harley in all his glory, necktie undone loosely about his throat but otherwise clothed. Five questionable women clamored around him, two of them practically sitting in his lap. To his credit, Harley remained aloof, the stem of a champagne glass lightly between his fingers as he held a lit cigar out the window.

“Is that how you got this scar?” drawled a woman, tracing the half-moon shape of Harley’s facial scar. “Some horrifying tribal person cut you?”

Harley removed her hand from his face with the hand that held the cigar. “Ah, here’s my welcome-home parade. You ladies might want to get along into town now.”

“But, Captain Park,” protested another gal, “we were hoping you’d introduce us to the right people in town.”

Harley stood. “You won’t need an introduction. Trust me.” He held his arms in a crescent shape to encourage the women to leave.

They hustled out of the compartment, and Harley poured Ivy champagne from a bottle that was in an ice bucket. “I’m sorry to miss the hanging,” he said, “but I didn’t want to miss riding on the train that I had a hand in building.”

“It’s glorious,” said Ivy with shining eyes. “But Harley. We have something more important to tell you than the train or the hanging.”

Harley glanced at Neil. Neil knew Harley’s manly thoughts.
More important than a new train or a hanging?

Ivy admitted in a timid voice, “Neil’s asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

Neil and Ivy held their breaths, waiting for Harley’s reaction. As could be expected, though, he soon broke out into a vast smile that rendered him even more handsome, if such a thing was possible. “Well, isn’t that just the best news of the year?” He grabbed another glass from the table and poured champagne for Neil. “Here’s to the happy couple.”

Ivy sipped, but Neil didn’t. He just held his glass between his knees as he leaned toward Harley. “What are your plans?”

Harley looked out the window toward the Snowy Range. “Well. I’ve come to enjoy this crazy, loco town.” He looked back at his two partners. “I thought I’d stay awhile and oversee the finishing of this train depot. If that won’t upset your marriage plans.”

“Not at all!” Neil cried with relief, but it was Ivy who brought up the touchy subject.

“Harley.” She covered his hand with hers. “We discussed this. We both agree. We’d like to continue our…ah, our special relationship with you. If
you
don’t mind,” she added hurriedly. Then she fluttered her eyelashes and looked down. “If you don’t mind staying away from those other beautiful women you’ve befriended. I don’t think I could stand it if you consorted with them.”

Neil waited to hear Harley’s response. It was natural that he looked shocked at first. A married couple continuing to share a bed with a third partner? Oh, it was probably done quite a bit in the West, where women were as scarce as…well, as bison running through town. Neil was immensely relieved when Harley broke into a fresh smile, squeezing Ivy’s hand.

“Of course,
El Ladid
. Of course. I was hoping you’d broach that subject. I feel as though I’ve known you and Neil forever—as though we lived together in a past life. Maybe in Rome, eh? And I need to be brutally honest with you. My whole life, all thirty-odd years of it, I thought I was fit for nothing but sex. Come, fuck, leave. That was my life. But now that I’ve met the two of you, I’ve no inclination for the ‘leave’ part.” He sighed heavily. “Fact, the idea of leaving Laramie City fills me with grief.”

Ivy suggested gently, “Maybe it’s the steel magnetism that’s consuming this town. The magnetic field hovering over the plains is keeping you here.”

Harley chuckled. “It’s magnetic, all right. But I don’t think it’s the town that’s pulling me closer. It’s you. The two of you.”

And, as though to remind Neil he was included, Harley impulsively tossed his cigar out the window and leaned forward to kiss him.

Cradling Neil’s jaw in his large hand, Harley kissed him with a tenderness Neil could only interpret as love. But it wasn’t enough to feel the emotion behind the sucking, licking affection. Neil wanted to hear it.

So he pulled back and murmured against Harley’s mouth, “I love you, Captain Park.”

To his pleasant surprise, Harley whispered back, “I’m in love with you, too.” He uttered some more Arabic nonsense, but Neil was so pleased he kissed his friend again, just to shut him up. He didn’t want anything ruining this moment.

“Hey, now,” Ivy protested, jiggling Harley’s arm. “Is there enough love to go around for me, too?”

“Of course,
El Ladid
.” Harley gathered the woman in his arms and kissed her deeply.

Neil was happy he didn’t feel one shred of resentment that another man was kissing his fiancée. Because the man was Captain Harland Park, translator of erotic Arabic texts, linguist, falconer, fencer, and surveyor of the Union Pacific Railroad.

Harley said against Ivy’s mouth, “There is always enough love. Love isn’t finite. There is no end to it. The more you give, the more there is.”

And Neil gulped his champagne, which normally he hated. He’d had a lot of fresh, new, and wild experiences lately. He knew there were many more in his future.

September 1868

Tomatoes engulfed Ivy Tempest with their spicy, pungent aroma. She picked them slowly, reveling in the scent that bloomed inside her nose. Reluctantly she put them in the basket, knowing the sauce would taste better the longer she simmered it. Neil had taught her that adding claret to the sauce gave it a savory and snobbish taste. Many guests to Serendipity Ranch had asked Ivy if she had a French chef.

She had just moved on to the herb garden to pick some oregano when her husband’s voice sounded, practically in her ear. He could be so sneaky! She jumped and jammed the handful of pungent herbs to her nose.

“
El Ladid
.” His lovely Australian drawl was like honey to her.

“Oh,” she gasped and tried to turn around. But Neil took the herbs from her, laid them in the basket, and walked her to the wooden fence that surrounded their vegetable garden in an attempt to keep out foraging critters.

“Marshal Tempest,” she protested feebly. “You may be able to arrest many criminals, but I hardly think
I
need arresting.”

“How do you know?” he teased. “Perhaps you’ve done something wrong.”

“Well,” Ivy admitted, balancing herself on the fence. “I
did
send a telegram that told a tracklayer’s wife back East that he’d gone off to find gold.”

Neil nuzzled the side of her neck, and she could feel the hot, insistent bulge cradled in his chaps pressing into her ass. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I was supposed to telegraph that he’d gone to find
Mr.
Gold, to invest their money.”

“Oh. Well, you only left out one word.”

Neil was bunching her skirts up in his hand, his penis insistent upon her backside. His scent of fresh sweetgrass was mingled with the manly aroma of steer hide, as he’d been out riding with his crew to corral some beeves for market. Ivy’s vulva pulsed with craving, but a slight worry had entered her mind.

“Is this smart?”

“Fucking is always smart.”

Ivy rolled her eyes.
Typical man
. Didn’t know what she meant, but his answer would’ve been the same for anything. “No. I meant for the baby. Could you…dislodge it or something?” Nevertheless, she assisted him by clutching the hems of her skirts to the fence rail and spreading her slippers against the soil.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he nudged the bulbous tip of his hot cock against her slimy pussy lips. “You don’t see any of these Indians with child worrying about that.” Neil had become quite interested in Indians lately, since Caleb had been coming around. Serendipity Ranch was closer to Caleb’s tribal camping spot, and Caleb seemed to know he would never have his own children. One day, he’d appeared with the prior knowledge that Ivy was pregnant. She had only known for a few days at that time, but of course, Caleb knew almost everything. Caleb was quite engaged in her pregnancy, bringing her helpful herbs and suchlike.

“Ah,” Neil sighed as his prick slid inside her, lodging it firmly against her cervix. “I love fucking you, knowing you’ve got my child inside you.”

“Can’t the cowhands see us?”

Neil groaned. “Who cares?” Then he seemed to come to his senses, for he added, “They’re way over there.”

They were hidden by the tall teepees of tomato and bean vines, so Ivy felt secure and safe. Droning bees buzzed past as Neil began to move inside of her, tickling her pussy with his admirably muscular cock. He cupped her labia, diddling her bulging clitoris with the tip of his longest finger. He knew this excited her, made her pussy clutch his cock, got her juices flowing.

Ivy arched her back to give her husband better access. This was what they’d been doing the day she’d conceived, standing up humping “bull style.” Ivy had known it was that day—she’d just had a feeling.

“Ah.” Harley’s voice came, resonant and clear, from somewhere behind the vine teepees. “Leave you alone for one minute and you’re on top of our wife.”

“There’s room for more,” Ivy said. Neil had not allowed Harley to penetrate her until they were absolutely certain she’d conceived. They’d come up with a plan so that the father of the child was a certainty. Now that she was with child, Harley could fuck her as well, but at the moment she was otherwise engaged.

She had to crane her neck and twist her torso to view the stunning adventurer, bronzed by the sun. His neckerchief hung loosely about his barrel chest, and he was still huffing with the exertion of riding. When he plastered his body to Neil’s back, their comingled sweat wafted pleasantly. Fresh sweat was not abhorrent. In fact, it excited Ivy.

Caleb had tried to explain that humans exuded some chemical when aroused that attracted others, as animals did. Ivy had pretended to scoff, but the idea had taken ahold of her. She knew that deep down she was just an animal, responding on a subconscious level to the scents emitted by her mates. The idea now made her giggle.

Harley withdrew a tin of grease. They often carried these tins for waterproofing saddles and lubricating various pieces of machinery, and he now greased
up his mammoth cock. Ivy clutched Neil’s penis with the walls of her pussy to slow him down, to ready him for penetration by Harley’s big tool. Looking over her shoulder, Ivy saw that Neil was poised with nostrils flaring, eyes rolling into his skull. Neil had learned to take Harley’s massive cock slowly the first few times, but today Harley didn’t seem inclined to dawdling.

“That’s right,” Harley growled. “Raise your succulent ass to me, Neil. Take me.
Bedi fawit eyri bi tizik.
”
Which Ivy now knew to mean
I want to put my cock in your ass.

It wasn’t lurid the way Harley grunted it, with the mellifluous tones she knew had enabled him to sneak inside the holy city of Mecca, to convince everyone he was a Muslim—he’d even undergone a circumcision to gain their confidence. Ivy supposed he did not get much of a chance to practice his Arabic or the seventeen other languages he purportedly was fluent in, other than his French, German, and Spanish. But Harley had eased right into life on Serendipity Ranch with a jolly readiness. He’d found that the Mexican ranch hands had an affinity for falconry, often went out prospecting, and lately he’d been teaching townsmen the art of fencing. His mind was a constant whirlwind of learning and studying. He was the most intelligent man Ivy had ever known. He had already entered into a new venture to design and build Laramie City’s first bank.

Now the linguist humped her husband. His sinewy hips swiveled erotically as Harley threw his head back in an anguished haze of lust. Ivy was stimulated to the heights of ecstasy to feel Neil’s prick inside her actually throb with wanting to spend, and she heard prurient language come from her own mouth.

“Fuck him, Harley! Mount him like a stag. Spear him with your big phallus.”