Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (16 page)

“My, my. Two such bad boys. You want Adrian to suck your big cock, you strapping stud?”

“God, yes,” groaned Gabriel. He still rotated his hips on the saddle horn, and he had probably been on the verge of orgasm for a while now. It wouldn’t take much, Adrian assessed, from years of being on the receiving end of such blow jobs.

“Well, that’s good,” Brooke said with approval, “because I want to watch.”

Adrian took a deep breath, his nose buried in Gabriel’s luscious bush, but Brooke gripped his shoulder with fingers made of steel.

“Wait.” Brooke spanked some of Gabriel’s welts with the crop. “You like being punished, don’t you, Gabriel?”

“God, yes,” he groaned again.

“See, Adrian?”
Spank.
“It hurts so good. It stimulates the skin, makes the blood rush to the skin’s surface, charges your kundalini with kinetic energy.”

Adrian had to smile that she remembered his tantric talk. He mumbled, “Gabriel’s dick is tingling with kinetic energy.” His mouth watered, hovering above the mushroom head of the penis, but the dominatrix wouldn’t let him act.

Instead, she spanked Gabriel’s ass some more. He hissed in air, posed with one hand gripping the back of his neck, swiveling his hips to get the maximum enjoyment from the saddle horn. When she reached around to pinch Gabriel’s nipple, Adrian would stand still no more. He lunged upward to nibble on the neglected nipple. It was amazing, sensuous, delicious sucking on such a well-built man, and Gabriel fucked the saddle horn with renewed vigor.

“I’m going to—” Gabriel gasped.

Adrian shut him up by sinking his bursting cock down his throat. Now all that came from Gabriel’s windpipes was a long, drawn-out groan of agonized bliss as Adrian’s mouth lovingly drained him. Adrian milked jets of delicious creamy jism from the dick while Brooke kept up a pitter-patter of tiny slaps with the paddle. Adrian could tell by the breeze against his chin that she was taking pleasure in batting Gabriel’s full balls. Further, she was apparently so turned on by the men she was rubbing the little triangle of fabric that covered her pussy against Adrian’s shoulder as he guzzled his friend’s spurting penis.

“That’s it,” she encouraged, her spanks coming lighter now. “So…good…”

But when Gabriel came back to life with a few gasps and gulps and pushed Adrian away, Adrian wasn’t in any mood to be ordered about. Grabbing Brooke, he practically flung her on her back atop another saddle rack. Her pink Stetson went tumbling to the floorboards. She leaned back with her palms on the saddle’s skirt, watching avidly with shining eyes as Adrian divested himself of his boots and pants. He liked that Gabriel watched lazily, with sleepy eyes. He liked that Gabriel was admiring his ass as he positioned himself astride the saddle. It was easy to yank aside the tiny fabric strip and impale Brooke with his ravenous cock.

“Ooh, I
like
being taken this way,” Brooke purred, locking her ankles together at the small of his back. “You’re such an animal. That really turned you on, sucking on Gabriel like that.”

“Of course it did,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He found that he could grip a stirrup and get better traction that way. This was the ideal place to mount this saucy buckle bunny. “You’re going to get fucked good, Cattle Annie.”

“Is that so?” Brooke whispered now, nibbling lightly on his lower lip. She swayed her hips back and forth so he could drive his cock deeper. “Because I have a feeling you were so turned on by making love to Gabriel with your mouth and making him fuck that saddle horn that you’re not going to last very—
Oh
!”

A monumental orgasm gripped Adrian so strongly he was afraid something would break. Wave after ecstatic wave flooded his body with bliss, and Brooke milked his cock with her athletic pussy walls.

“That’s good, that’s good, oh, so good,” she whispered, urging him into her with the heels of her little boots.

Adrian had been so taken by surprise by the force and suddenness of his orgasm, all thought of tantric oneness went out the window, and he pounded Brooke mercilessly, his hips twitching with every spasm. She was wide open for him, gulping air with each contraction of her inner pussy muscles, massaging his cock with her pussy.

They must’ve stayed there on top of that saddle for several minutes before Adrian thought to breathe, blink, and look around. He disengaged and stood, wobbly. Gabriel had already mostly dressed—he didn’t seem in a rush to button his shirt. Brooke swung one foot over the cantle and set both boots firmly on the floor. Adrian reached a hand out to help her up.

“I need to know,” she said instead, looking him directly in the eye. Just as they’d gazed at each other while fucking in the mineral pool. “When will you be going on another mission overseas?”

Adrian exhaled. “I don’t have any particular urge to go on any mission in the near future,” he admitted. Missions were the ruin of any stable relationship. He had no doubt that it was his constant absence that had driven Lyla back to her ex-husband. “Why do you need to know?”

Brooke tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know I’m in love with you. Why would I want you to go overseas on some deadly mission where you risk your life just to retrieve some damned sultan’s ring? At the same time, though…I don’t want you to give up a big part of your life. You’d wind up resenting me if you gave up your military contracting for me.” Exhaling, she forced a giggle and looked to Gabriel for assistance. “Listen to me. Already planning his future for him. I’m going to drive him away before I even give him a chance!”

“Adrian’s his own man,” Gabriel said with certainty. “He wouldn’t be telling you he didn’t want another mission just to please you. He came to that conclusion on his own.”

Brooke looked back to Adrian. He felt awkward under the microscope, but he supposed this was how mature adults in mature situations talked. He spent most of his time in mosques, speaking impeccable Arabic to earn the trust of targets and potential assets. He was more accustomed to praying to Mecca, chewing the stimulating plant
khat
, or dancing in filthy discotheques than he was accustomed to serious talk with a woman about relationships. “Is that true? Are you thinking of giving up your dangerous overseas life?”

“Thinking of it, yes,” Adrian said truthfully, buttoning his own jeans. “My last trip to Damascus didn’t end up so well, and I’ve never been one of those suicidal maniacs like Nathan Horowitz, flinging himself off cliffs, or strafing militant strongholds. I never had a death wish. I just fell into this after my service in the Marines, because I got an art master’s degree on a fellowship at Princeton. Someone told me that with my knowledge of artifacts I could whore myself out working for governments, retrieving priceless treasures, returning them to their governments, to museums.”

Brooke looked misty-eyed and more than a bit sad at this news. “Yes. It does sound so noble when you put it like that. Probably worth getting tortured over once in awhile.”

“No!” cried Gabriel. “Nothing is worth getting tortured over—not some damned inanimate object, anyway! I don’t mind coming out and saying blatantly—can’t you just quit the dangerous part of it without quitting the interesting part? You flew out here to examine a coin that Xandra had found. Couldn’t you just fly around examining things, authenticating things, without the dangerous part? Make someone else go retrieve the things, someone less valuable.”

“Yes,” Brooke agreed heatedly. “Someone less valuable to
us
.”

Adrian was about to say that, along with Brooke, he was becoming very interested in the workings of the cattle ranch, but someone pounded on the tack room door then.

“I know you’re in there!” yelled Sol Greenspan. Adrian knew Sol from dealing with Xandra and the coin. The lawyer was a very amusing, fiercely protective, and sleazy sort. Sleazy lawyers were the best. They knew all the ins and outs of things. “Manuel told me he saw things that can’t be unseen looking through that window! I don’t want to suffer the same fate, but I have something urgent to impart to you!”

Adrian waited until Brooke had buttoned her jeans and her cowgirl shirt to unbar the door. The lawyer with the bad comb-over came whistling into the tack room, bringing a rush of frigid air. “What’s so urgent?” Adrian asked.

Sol held his hand out in the “stop” signal toward Gabriel and Adrian. “I know you had every right to arrest that fucktard Wade Rivers, or Thor Heyerdahl, or whatever he’s calling himself. You did a clean sweep of the house, DNA matched, casings matched, cigarette butts, yadda yadda. You had at least ten legitimate charges to keep him in the pokey for a good long time, or several months, whichever comes first.”

“Yeah?” Adrian didn’t like the sound of this. “What happened—he bust out?”

“Close. He made bail. I know you requested it to be set at two hundred thousand dollars, but guess what—someone had even better taste in lawyers than you guys, because ole Dirk Hausenstrauss there had bail reduced to fifty thousand, which he easily made this morning.”

“Fuck!” yelled Gabriel. He grabbed the first thing he saw, a bridle, which he smashed against a saddle.

Now Sol made a picture frame out of his hands. “I’m just telling you this as a courtesy warning. I’ve known about ole Wolfgang Katzenjammer there for years. He’s a thorn in everyone’s side, spewing racist remarks like a volcano, breaking and entering every house between here and Moab. No one’s ever been able to nail him for much of anything. So I got to warn you. He’s going to have it out for you, rifling through his house, taking all his weapons, confiscating his racks and hides. Julian might have to fear the most because he’s half-Navajo.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel snarled bitterly. “Adrian should be safe, with that lily-white skin of his. I resemble my Italian grandfather.”

Sol said, “I think all three of you have some shit creek action going on. And in case you’re thinking what I know you mercenary types like to think, winging this guy isn’t going to mitigate your predicament. You’re gonna have to be on the lookout at every moment.”

“For what?” Brooke asked. “I mean, what’s his style? What does he like to do?”

“Short-sheet the bed?” Gabriel wondered.

Brooke giggled. “Egg the lodge?”

Sol waved them away. “I’ll have to be honest. There have been a few unexplained rapes where his name was bandied about. That seems to be his style. They’re always talking about founding a white breakaway nation. So before you even protest, Opie—you’re the man, you’re the protector, you and Smoky the Italian Bear here. I don’t want to hear any high school protestations that you’re not even going steady and you barely know her. All right? This is your perp and your responsibility to keep my McQueen girls safe.”

Adrian stood next to Brooke and even took her hand. “Oh, I’ll do that, all right. No problem there.”

“Good,” said Sol, jutting out his chin stubbornly. “I’m glad to hear that. Because there’s at least one ranch hand named Manuel who will have to go wash his eyes in bleach after witnessing your shenanigans, which were definitely not high school level. So don’t pretend you don’t know each other.” He walked to the door and didn’t turn around as he pointed behind him.

“And that saddle. Bleach that, too.”

“Adrian was in Medina once, having just retrieved some artifact,” said Nathan Horowitz. The group sat around tall tables at Camp Walden’s outdoor deck, taking a sunny break after a couple of hours skiing. Gabriel was sitting surveillance on Wade Rivers’s house, determined to arrest him for any fresh crimes he might commit. “What artifact was that again, Adrian?”

“Are you going to tell that embarrassing story?”

Adrian pretended to be shy about telling the story, but Brooke already knew him so well she could tell he was dying to hear the story again. “The more embarrassing the better,” she said.

“It was a Coptic cross,” Adrian filled in, to get Nathan going on the story. “I was going to return it to Ethiopia.”

This was what Brooke feared. That Adrian would miss the glamor and danger of his former job. Who wouldn’t want to be skulking down glamorous back alleyways in Medina, becoming a hero in Ethiopia for returning a cross? It sounded like a win-win job, if one left out the painful or potentially lethal parts.

“Right, right,” said Nathan, “a cross. So he’s tear-assing away from whatever church he nicked it from when a crowd of dudes in black robes starts pounding down the flagstones behind him.”

“Oh, God.” Adrian rolled his eyes but shot Brooke a heartwarming smile. He had been very relaxed and open since the encounter in the tack room. Brooke imagined that he’d come to a sort of conclusion. Since deciding he didn’t want to be a “suicidal maniac like Nathan Horowitz,” his disposition had been downright sunny. Still, Brooke worried that he’d miss the action-packed life of the antiquity retrieval specialist, or whatever the hell he was. Nathan had already told her that Adrian was the top expert in the world, so she doubted he’d be satisfied hanging around animal psychic conventions in Utah.

Nathan continued, “So Adrian’s running his ass off. It’s plain they know that he knows they’re back there, so no need for any pretenses. Only problem is, they’re running faster. And faster. Adrian’s used to leaping over fences and crashing through fruit stands like they show in the movies—”

“Slipping on banana peels,” Adrian inserted. “Yes, that happened once,” he told Brooke in answer to her quizzical look.