[Ménage Amour: Erotic Cowboy Ménage Romance, M/F/M/M/M/M, light consensual BDSM, spanking, paddling, sex toys, HEA]
She has a secret Kelly Martin is in bed with the enemy, and she keeps her position until old lovers resurface, demanding answers. Facing an uncertain mission, Colt Candy, Kemper Lox, Brand Marx, Gabe Johns, and Crue Candy meet in Sin City. And it doesn’t take them long to gauge the enormous dangers surrounding the woman they love. They plan to uncover the truth Fighting to protect her, the Underground Unit operatives soon realize the threat against Kelly cannot be neutralized when the enemy has a strong hold on someone close to home. To make matters worse, a gambling debt places Kelly in the direct line of fire. Playing a game no one can win Several Underground Unit operatives ante up in a high-stakes poker game where winners are only determined if they walk away with their lives. And a dead man’s hand is the least of all worries.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Natalie Acres is a Siren-exclusive author.
“I’m not too worried about Colt now,” Crue said, watching Brock Donovan from the corner of his eye. “Sorry you had to witness the show.”
“I didn’t watch. I have my own handful at home,” Brock said, reading over some documents.
“When did you get in town?” Kemper asked.
“What the fuck does it matter?” Brock fired back. “The important thing is I’m here and with any luck, I can negotiate with Lorenzo if your fearless—never mind recently fucked—leader can’t pull off the win.”
“We all know that win is a death sentence, too,” Crue said, hoping Brock would enlighten him if he happened to be wrong.
He didn’t. He returned to the paperwork, occasionally smirking when his phone buzzed with a text message. No doubt, the messages exchanged were personal.
“What’s the plan?” Brand asked, taking a seat across from Brock.
“Riley is dealing the cards, for starters,” Brock informed them.
Crue made a fist and drew back his arm. “Yes! That’s what I like to hear.”
Brock frowned. “I wouldn’t say this deal is in the bag, yet. Somebody managed to fuck up our plan when they asked for a new dealer every hour.”
“How do we work around that?” Brand asked.
“The poker room manager told Lorenzo the casinos on the Strip have utilized a new policy for private games. All dealers remain in the room until the game is over.” He typed a few words in his phone, grunted, and sent another message. He looked up again. “Veronica and Sloane Remington are in the lineup, too. We have three operatives inside.”
Crue snickered. “Let me guess, Sloane wouldn’t let Veronica work alone?”
Brock’s nose twitched. “He’s not as obsessed as he used to be.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it for myself.”
“He’s worse,” Brock said, glancing up. “She’s pregnant.”
“What?” Crue felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut. “Are you out of your mind? You’ve read the new information we have on Lorenzo and his operations. He views women as weak links, and his men won’t have a problem putting a gun to Veronica’s head.”
“That would be a grave mistake,” Brock said, ever so cool. “Sloane is a beast when he fights for Veronica, and let’s not forget Veronica is well trained. She’s one of the best operatives we have.”
“Is she packing?” Gabe asked.
“In places you and I can only dream about,” Brock said, grunting.
“You don’t have a thing for Sloane’s woman. Do you, Brock?” Crue asked, deviling him.
His phone rang about that time. His ringtone hummed with “Endless Love.” How sweet. “No,” he replied, standing and leaving the room. “Hey, baby.”
Brock’s entire demeanor changed when his wife called. Maybe they’d have a good phone fuck before the poker game began. Brock was like a stiff rod waiting to strike back at the first bolt of lightning. Sydney Kane Donovan must’ve been a saint or completely insane to live with the man.
“As far as obsessions go, Brock Donovan is owned by a woman,” Kemper said, shaking his head.
“I know someone else who isn’t far behind him,” Brand said, waggling his brows. “Crue, you should’ve seen Kemper last week. He’s as lovesick as Colt and I don’t care how much he denies his feelings. I watched him with my very eyes.” He lowered his chin and dropped his voice to taunt him. “Miss Submissive.”
“She eats that stuff up,” Kemper said, assuming his notorious cocky attitude.
An alarm alerted them of the approaching hour. The poker game was set to start.
“Showtime, boys,” Crue said.
Gabe took his seat in front of a computer monitor. “Here we go. May the cards fall in Colt’s favor.”
Crue retrieved another gift from his bag. A pair of red-and-silver handcuffs dangled from his fingertips. Sticking the key in a nearby door pocket, Crue handed the cuffs to Kemper, who quickly secured them around her wrists, which was a little awkward since he kept the vibrator remote in hand.
“Now we’re ready,” Kemper said, the hard male coming to the fore.
“Take these off. I can please you more if I’m not bound.”
“Hush, Miss Submissive,” Kemper said, punching another button.
“Oh God!” she screamed out as the toy danced between her folds. The zapping palpitations forced her hips away from the seat. Springing forward, she pumped at air, grinding out an unfulfilling rhythm an inch or two from Crue’s chin.
“Beautiful,” Gabe rasped.
She studied Gabe as he focused on her pussy. She wanted to encourage him, longed to have him participate. He looked up and grinned, evidence he suspected what she was thinking.
Crue never lowered his mouth. Instead, he stared down the bridge of his nose and moistened his lips. “You’re so sweet. That’s what you are.”
“No,” she said, her head flailing. “I’m not sweet. I’m not, Sir.”
“You are, sub,” Crue said, wagging his finger at Kemper.
Another button was punched and the toy performed in a swirling motion instead of the continual jabbing of repetitive penetrations. This, too, brought about a new wave of desire. Her lust kicked up a notch as Colt toyed with her nipple, his firm fingers rolling the beaded point around and around.
Her pussy was on fire. Her intimate lips quivered around the vibrator as Kemper palmed the device. His eyes lowered as he stared at her cunt.
“Need to come,” she said, breathless and aroused. “Please let me come.”
“Don’t whine, sub,” Crue said, slapping her bare pussy.
“Ah fuck,” she hummed, hoping he’d slap her waxed mound again.
Again he raised his hand. This time the pop was as enticing as the burn itself.
The smack fueled her unintended defiance. Her body undulated, grinding and pumping. “Oh! Mmm!”
Colt held her shoulders to the seat, but her bottom flew off the bench and her hips shot forward again. Her orgasm rocked through her body. “Please!”
Crue cursed under his breath. Yanking the toy from her pussy, he devoured her pussy lips, lavishing her with his meaty tongue as he pulled apart her folds. He lapped at her as she came, sucking up her release with his carnal sounds only leaving her more restless.
“I want to touch you,” she breathed, collapsing against the seat once the sensations ran their erotic course. “I need to touch all of you.”
“And you will, baby,” Colt promised her, bringing her body across his.
“But first, you’ll fuck. And you’ll fuck every one of us before we leave this car.”
* * * *
Colt had a way with Kelly. Crue would never understand their connection, but he finally felt comforted by their level of intimacy rather than slack by what he wasn’t able to give her.
He knew who and what he was, but more than anything else, he knew who and what he was to Kelly. What he gave her, she needed. What he expected from her, she willingly provided.
She was his next ragged breath in a cold winter’s wind, and he was like a hot blanket, ready to cover and protect her when the truth chilled her to the bone. When she was too frightened to acknowledge what Daniel had done to her and why she’d been his easy prey, he gave her comfort. He provided security and strength.
Daniel had known his daughter’s weaknesses. He’d used them against her as eagerly and as simply as Lorenzo had quickly learned to do as well.
His gaze briefly met his brother’s before he returned his focus to Kelly. Gabe and Kemper had secured her hands behind her back before they helped her mount Brand. Now, that delectable chest of hers was in Brand’s face. He sipped at her nipples as she rode him, and the poor bastard didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.
Brand shifted his weight and thrust inside her with repetitive strokes, watching as his cock disappeared inside her walls. “How’s that feel?”
“Like heaven,” she said, her head tilting back and forth as she fucked him.
Crue took pleasure in the unfolding act. Gauging her desire, he realized she was only seconds away from her first satisfied cries of pleasure.
“Give me more, Brand,” she whispered. “Give it to me hard and fast.”
Only too happy to oblige, Brand threw his hips forward, pumping his ass up and down as he screwed his cock deeper. “There you go, baby.”
The sway of her beautiful body made her look as if she had been born to fuck, born to please the very men who wanted to share her. Ragged breaths filled the limousine. And her first whimpers of pleasure sealed the deal.
The sound of her voice made Crue’s cock hard, rigid with a fierce need. Kemper wasn’t in much better shape. A Dom to a fault, his control shattered before Crue’s very eyes.
Sheathing himself as he waited, Kemper stroked his cock, his eyes meeting Crue’s and then Colt’s. If he thought he’d take her alone, he was out of his mind.