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

BOOK: Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
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Adrian went with it, closing his eyes as she smoothed her hands over his hips.
His skin is soft as velvet—aside from these ropey scars.
She also dared to brush her fingertips against the bottom edge of one scar, taking note that his nostrils flared in pain or sensitivity. She didn’t try that again but focused on his lower back, adding more weight behind each pass of her hands, keeping her eyes on his face for any signs of pain. This part was easy.
What girl hasn’t given a hundred massages to men?
Men were always demanding massages. At least, the type of demanding man she was accustomed to being around.

She tugged the sheet down lower to reveal the blindingly white rise of his ass.
Oh, absolutely delicious
. Brooke longed to bury her face between his thighs. When her fingers swept over one of the shapely rises, she spoke to take his mind off her fingers. “This is a Forbes five-star spa, you know. Utah’s only. Well, aside from that
other
spa.”

“It’s very nice,” Adrian muttered without opening his eyes.

She dared to undrape his ass further, lightly sweeping her fingers over the delicious globes then returning to the plane of his lower back. “And you enjoy skiing,” she stated, gliding her palms again over his rounded butt. This time her fingertips strayed over the very lowest slope of his ass, and Adrian lifted his hips to adjust himself. In doing so, he spread his thighs even farther apart, and she moved down to eyeball the rounded pouch of his ball sac that was exposed to view.
I can tell he enjoys skiing. His haunches are muscled like a bull’s.

“I like it all right,” he admitted apathetically.

“And where are you from?” She really wanted to know where he’d obtained the scars, but of course that question was too direct, too personal. “You’ve got a sort of vague, British accent.” She knew she had him in the palm of her hand. She could tell by how swollen his testicles were, squished between his thighs like that.
I’m turning him on. He’s never going to be able to forget me now.
Her taunting and teasing of him would be seared in his memory for days, or until he could stand it no more and sought her out again.

He spoke all in a rush, his eyes squeezed shut now. “I grew up in Ireland until I was ten, then came to Hartford, Connecticut.”

She tried to laugh lightly. “That explains the accent. It’s music to the ears.” But really, the buoyancy of his ass under her palms was making her sweat. If she’d been wearing a skirt, for sure a trickle of pussy juice would’ve been dripping down her inner thigh by now. As it was, her soaking panties and even her leggings cloyed annoyingly at her, itching. She wiggled her hips to rub her pussy lips together. Adrian must have felt the jiggling in her hands that swept over his tailbone, for he wrenched his torso off the table, twisting his hips out of reach of her hands. Of course, this only displayed his massive penis even more prominently, and his erection bobbed in the air, purplish and delicious. His eyes flashed with ire, and he snarled, “That’s enough.” Leaping to his feet, he strode to the peg and stepped into his trunks.

“But…” Brooke protested feebly, holding her hands before her as though they were bombs.
What the hell did I do wrong?
She had only tugged the sheet down a few inches, to let his skin…breathe. Now he had his back to her, snapping the snug trunks over that stupendous ass, stuffing his hard-on into the crotch, stamping up and down like a marching soldier. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yeah? Well, I am.” He shrugged into the white robe and took three long steps to the door.

Why is he being so mean?
Before she could utter another word, he was gone out the door in a swirl of musky lavender, and Brooke collapsed into a chair in a confused mess of limbs.
That’s enough. Well, I am
. He had vastly overreacted to her innocent teasing, especially considering he had been obviously aroused by her touch. His prick had stood out, stiff and proud. Proud, even if Adrian himself wasn’t!

But shame overcame her triumph at having stimulated him. Brooke leaped to her feet, too, and ran out the door. She didn’t stop until she reached her reception desk, where she yanked her radio from her purse and barked into it, “Brooke to Xandra. Do you copy? ” A bit more frantic now, her voice rose in pitch. “Xandra, come in!”

Xandra’s annoyance was evident when the radio crackled. “What, Brooke?”

“What’s your location? I need to talk to you.”

“I’m just leaving the Neon Cocktail,” said her sister.

“Good. Stay there. I’ll be right there.”

“But it’s not five o’clock yet,” Xandra started to protest, but Brooke was already on her way, quitting before quitting time.

Brooke’s beautiful older sister wore a look of frank disgust when Brooke entered the lounge and took a seat next to her by a window. Brooke knew she was being a burden on her capable sister, but it had always been that way—that was her destiny! True, Xandra had been sent out to Utah by their father in order to get her away from a questionable boyfriend in Charleston and his drug-dealing ways. Brooke herself had fallen in with Javier’s crowd, and following Xandra’s path, had traveled to the Triple Play Lodge. But this time it was Xandra yanking Brooke from the hard-partying Bolivian crowd in Charleston, demanding she come to Bird in Hand, Utah with a promise of a healthier life, safer surroundings, and a luxurious spa job.

“I need a new job,” Brooke panted, eagerly looking for a cocktail server.

“Already?” Xandra had just returned from her Hawaiian honeymoon, flaunting her bronzed, tropical tan in the frigid snowy Utah landscape.

Brooke knew she should’ve been settled into what they’d decided would be the best spot in the lodge for her, the spa. Xandra was already doing her no-good sister a favor by giving her the receptionist position. What else did Brooke know how to do? She’d only worked in a lingerie shop and done some modeling before, nothing terribly skilled. She’d been given one more chance by coming out here, only to blow it in her arrogance—what their father used to call her “high-spiritedness.”

Because of her impulsive nature and the fact that she’d pretty much gotten everything she ever wanted, she had automatically assumed Adrian would fall for her talented fingers, her bountiful figure, her seductive sex appeal. Brooke was beyond mortified to realize not only had he not fallen for her—he’d rejected her outright.

It was another aspect of her stubborn character that Adrian’s rejection of her made her even more determined to win him.

“I know, I know,” said Brooke, anticipating Xandra’s lecture. “But I blew it with a guest.”

Xandra rolled her eyes and hid them behind her hand. “What did you do, Brooke?”

“I…I sort of
offended
one of them.”

“Let me guess. A man. Which one?”

Brooke spoke hurriedly now. “Just this redheaded buffoon from Ireland. I’m sure he’ll be gone soon back to Connecticut, but Xandra, I just can’t go back to the spa. I can’t face him! I can’t go back there—put me over at the ski lodge, operating the chairlift, anything other than the spa! I’ve cooked before—put me in the kitchen with Leif.”

Xandra grabbed her wrists to calm her and spoke directly. “Redheaded buffoon? Dear Lord, Brooke. Was it that prisoner of war, Adrian Kinsey? Handsome, tall antiquities expert for the military?”

Holy shit. What have I done?
“Yes, Adrian Kinsey, that’s it. I did get the feeling he was military. He was a POW?”

Xandra’s exasperation was threatening to overwhelm her. “
Yes
! He spent a frigging
month
being tortured in Damascus over some stupid frigging
statue
he was trying to recover.”

Brooke temporarily forgot to be mortified, becoming interested in Adrian’s story instead. “Really? That’s fascinating. So he’s some kind of spy?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Xandra said wearily. “He works for the same private military contractor that Nathan works for.” Nathan was Xandra’s new husband, a dashing, athletic man who looked as though he should’ve been cast as James Bond. Brooke didn’t know too much about Nathan other than that he’d given up the spy life, having some kind of PTSD after a traumatic event in Africa. He now ran around teaching fly-fishing to visitors and didn’t seem traumatized at all.

Nathan was absolutely drenched in virility, and Brooke was more than slightly jealous of her sister. Perhaps there was a bit of competition with her sister that she wanted her own virile commando, too. “So that’s how you know this about Damascus? Through Nathan?”

“Yes, Nathan had Adrian fly out here a few months ago to…to help Nathan with a case.”

“Some antiquities needed analyzing?”

“Something like that. Now listen here, my irresponsible sister. Adrian doesn’t need you stalking him, shoving your bosom in his face, or otherwise trying to seduce him. Word is that he’s avoiding women for now, and possibly for a long time to come. You’re just spinning your wheels with him. I’d
prefer
it if you didn’t stalk
anyone
, but I know that’s asking too much.”

Brooke slumped down in her seat. “I know. And the chairlift would be just as bad. Adrian skis, and I’d constantly run into him there. What about the restaurant?”

“Leif has all his little culinary friends working for him. How’s about you go and help Cass Cameron? Cass always needs help.”

Cass was the director of the front office and seemed to be Xandra’s closest friend—she had stood as maid of honor at Xandra’s recent wedding and had actually knocked down a couple of women in her zeal to grab the bouquet. “All right,” Brooke said timidly. “I’ll help Cass. Anything. Anything to avoid seeing that poor man again.”

Xandra nodded with approval and relaxed now that things were ironed out. “Good. It’s best you leave him alone for now, although you’re right. He
is
quite handsome. It’s horrific what happened to him.”

Chapter Two

 

They kept a ridge trail plowed in the winter, Adrian was told, to give the ranch hands access to the cattle trails. It also gave access to the Department of Wildlife conservation officers, like the warden Julian shacking up with Adrian’s friend Nathan. Adrian had chosen to ride a horse out to the Inkwells off of Prism Canyon. Why not? It was a crystalline day, the snow topping the rock formations like cupcake icing, and Adrian had to wear his darkest shades. Riding horses reminded him of his childhood in Connecticut.

Nathan had told him about these Inkwells. A popular skinny-dipping spot in the summer and autumn, only the hardiest morons came out here in January. Since Adrian knew he was a hardy moron, he’d even eschewed the snowmobile that Nathan offered him, choosing the horse instead. It was peaceful riding the horse

Truth was, he was still reeling from his encounter with that luscious babe, Brooke. He’d been eyeballing her sitting behind that desk for days now. But since a woman was the absolute
last
thing he wanted to rub up against, he’d made a disaster out of their encounter. Why did he have to overreact so strongly?
I mean, I
know
why I overreacted like a douche bag. But why couldn’t I have covered up my crippling terror more smoothly? I acted like a bull in a china shop. Hardly the actions of a smooth, suave black ops commando.

She was a sweet, young thing in a peasant blouse, for fuck’s sake! And she had an ass you could do Shakespeare from. Big deal if she was getting a bit too familiar with me. That’s bound to happen once in awhile. I need to learn to react like a trained operative, not a trained monkey.

The longer Adrian rode, the more self-loathing seeped into his heart.

He had definitely overreacted like a freaked-out asshat. He’d been watching her sitting behind that reception desk, next to the fake rock fountain that trickled so soothingly, her little stereo playing the same space music they played underwater in the outdoor shiatsu pool. This buckle bunny almost had an Irish look, with her dark brown hair undulating in curls over her shoulders, framing her face. Lovely rounded cheekbones, full luscious lips. She seemed so young and fresh she practically had apples in her cheeks.

She usually seemed to wear leggings, oversized fur-lined boots, and a puffy peasant blouse that displayed her white shoulders, as though she worked in some kind of alpine chalet. Adrian had even dared to picture her lying back, naked on a bearskin—she would look so choice there, with her squiggly brunette hair splayed out against the fur—but he’d stopped himself there.

No
. He wasn’t even going to fantasize about any woman. Not after what had been going on back home in New Canaan while he was being beaten within an inch of his life in Damascus.

Next time he saw Brooke he’d be polite and friendly to her. He’d reacted like an epic douche when all she was doing was massaging his lower back. How had she known he’d had a painful back for years? Some of that therapy probably involved fondling his tailbone, and it was his own horny fault that his prick had been harder than a hammer when he’d stupidly lashed out at the poor girl. Jesus. His balls had been throbbing, begging her to touch them. Then he’d run down the hallway like a scared kitten. He had to get it together! He couldn’t be freaking out every time anyone looked in his direction.

BOOK: Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
5.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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