[Ménage Amour: Erotic Cowboy Ménage a Quatre Romance, M/F/M/M, light consensual BDSM]
Trixie Cartwell likes to turn a few heads. She's out of control and her family knows it. When Kane Cartwell decides he's had enough, he sends his daughter to summer camp to work off her excess energy for a few months. What he doesn't bargain for are several cowboys ready to occupy her every waking hour while she's away.
Camp counselors and die-hard cowboys, Mitch, Brock, and Rory have several ways to keep the young Miss Cartwell extremely busy in a rustic summer camp. And they aren't the only ones with wild and wicked ideas.
When Trixie returns home, her fathers are less than thrilled about her decision to take on a few cowboys for a lifetime. That is until Rory, Brock, and Mitch prove themselves worthy of Trixie Cartwell's love by protecting her from a threatening man from her mother's past.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among the men.
A Siren Erotic Romance
“You okay?” he asked, catching his balance and shifting the weight of his bags between two large hands.
“Sure, for a woman who almost lost her head, I’m feeling no pain. Trust me.” She watched him walk to the cabin three doors down. He discarded his loot and then glared down the narrow path.
He marched back over and stopped short of plowing over her again. “Look, you need to watch where you stick your feet. We have all sorts of traffic through here, especially when the brats arrive.” He stopped scolding her and his gaze traveled up her legs. “Super. Just what I needed,” he growled.
For some reason, his tone told a tale she didn’t feel like hearing, so maybe he wasn’t easily impressed by big boobs and shapely calves. Sure, he looked better than anything she’d ever met in real life, but first impressions left quite a warning.
She should run downhill screaming bloody hell with her arms waving wildly. The man in front of her was rough stock, the kind of fellow who didn’t put up with her kind of games. She arrived at the decision as soon as the thud sounded out from his porch and he stomped back to scold her. Good heavens, he made most bad-asses look like newborn pups with their eyes still closed.
“You tripped over me,” she pointed out, leaning back and placing her palms flat against her hips. She braced for the best of word wars.
Grumbling, he returned to his meager hut and didn’t ask if she needed medical attention. Instead, from what Trixie translated, he blamed her because he almost lost his balance.
She picked up her book and then immediately tossed the paperback to the wayside again. Standing, she debated trotting off to give the guy a real piece of her mind. That’s when she saw the only friendly native on the place. Holding her hand to her forehead, she groaned when she almost found the ground again. Swaying, she grabbed the nearby post and took her seat once more.
Rory rushed to her side. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I have a hard head.”
“I’d say. I saw Brock wallop you. What did you do to him, anyway?”
“On purpose?” He smiled, pulling her hand away from her forehead. “If so, you should pick your victims more carefully. You’ll have a shiner there.”
“Great,” she moaned, glaring at Mr. Personality three doors down. “You know him?”
He looked down the trail. Brock pointed in his direction with his thumb, index finger and pinky extended in a cool-kind-of-gesture, as if to say, “hello” in a bad boy’s unspoken lingo.
“Let me go see what his problem is,” he said. “Want me to rush over to the infirmary and get you some ice first?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
Rory ran off to greet the rude one as if he couldn’t wait to congratulate him for swatting the new chick with a bag of bricks, since that’s what she assumed he carried in his swinging bag. She decided Rory wasn’t an ally after all. He was one of them.
“Has anyone ever touched you here before?”
He wanted her to tell him no, but realized he couldn’t be the first for everything. She was nineteen for crying out loud. Some lucky bastard somewhere had definitely taken her this far.
She quickly nodded. “I don’t remember much about it. I drank too much—oh God that feels good—and made bad decisions.” She moaned, and he stopped fingering her all at once.
“Is he anyone you care about?”
“No,” she hummed. “Just a guy and…”
“And what?” He probed his fingers higher again, added another one.
“And he didn’t go….ah gods,” she snapped her legs closed, her knees knocking together. “Deep.”
“I’m going deep, Trixie,” he promised. “And I’m going to stay buried inside of you for as long as you’ll let me.”
Her breathing changed and she splayed her legs. Opening herself up for exposure, she rolled her hips forward.
Removing his fingers, he dropped his lips to hers and sucked in her flavor, the warm juices spilling from her vagina and straight into his mouth. He lapped and ate, sucked and licked, his lips smacking against her folds on a search for her pleasure and hungry for the taste of her orgasm, the climax he wanted her to go ahead and ride.
She spread her legs still wider and then quickly braced herself with an arm behind her back. The little seductress wanted to watch, and he enjoyed having her eyes fixated on him.
His fingers spread. He held her folds apart and then dipped his tongue inside her walls, enjoying the way she wiggled under his suction.
“Easy,” he said mumbling against her body before he slapped her pussy and felt the hot gush of promising heat fill his mouth.
“Oh God, Brock,” she muttered.
He slapped again, and she started her first ride. Her body jerked and her cries sounded like an orchestra, beautiful and timed.
“Brock, help me, wait. Please, don’t do this. You have to stop.” She said one thing and did another. Her hands, not one but both, pressing down on his head assured him she wanted exactly what he gave.
She muttered something again, an objection perhaps, but then she started humping against his face and chin, her body like a limp rag moving with him as he devoured her, thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper while feasting on the creamy juices her body provided. No, sugar, he thought, reaching down between his own legs and holding himself at the base. There’s no way to stop me now.