[Menage Amour: Erotic Consensual BDSM Cowboy Menage a Trois, M/F/M, spanking, sex toys, HEA]
THE MERRY WIDOW OF TANNER'S FORD: Now that she's free of her controlling husband, Marci Meshevski wants to prove orgasms do exist. A fling with a hot cowboy should manage that task. Simon MacDougal eagerly provides more than Marci thought possible. Then brother Lance returns to Climax, eager to continue the Tanner's Ford tradition of sharing.
Reece Butler is a Siren-exclusive author.
“You need a Montana cowboy to give you orgasms, Marci. Lots and lots of orgasms. That’ll make you forget all about Ted.”
Marci Meshevski Grant hastily set down the large dill pickle she was about to bite into. The thought of her dead husband always brought a sour taste into her mouth. She didn’t need a lewd vegetable to make it worse.
“No way!” She rapidly shook her head at her older sister, making her rickety stool rock. “I don’t want another boring marriage.”
Actually, Marci did, and they both knew it. Or, she wanted the children that came from a marriage. Nikki, sitting across from her in an equally decrepit chair, crunched down on her grilled cheese sandwich. Busy chewing, she gave her a look instead of answering.
“I want to enjoy my freedom for a while first,” insisted Marci. “I’ll have lots of fun as soon as I replace my, um…”
She hesitated at saying the word out loud. For all she knew, battery operated massage tools were illegal in Montana. Even in a place called Climax. Gad, she was so horny even thinking of the town name made her pussy tingle. She might be hesitant to say things out loud, but she had a vivid imagination. That, and the small piece of equipment she’d hid for years between her mattress and box spring, had kept her sane while married to Ted. But it, along with everything else, had gone up in flames.
“One vibrator can’t do near as much as a talented man,” declared Nikki.
Marci narrowed her eyes. “How do you know? You said you’ve never had sex.”
Nikki’s pale skin went well with her blonde hair. It couldn’t hide the wave of red that rose above her light blue scrubs.
“I am a medical doctor specializing in family medicine. I studied sex in class and did additional literary research on my own. And I mean monographs and technical articles, not explicit magazines.”
“I put up having sex for ten minutes almost every Friday night for twelve long years,” said Marci bitterly. “And now I’m happy to be a widow.”
“You never told me Ted scheduled sex.”
“Ted scheduled everything to meet his priorities.” Marci licked her finger to pick up crumbs that had fallen onto the Formica table. Heat, this time from embarrassment, tinged her ears. “The timing for sex depended on the sport and commercial breaks. He liked the half-time shows but not the commentary.”
“That’s not sex, it’s—God!” Nikki grimaced, shaking her head. “That makes me even more determined to make you into a merry widow.”
“That’s a piece of lingerie, not a way of life.”
“It can be both.” Nikki flicked her eyes over Marci’s second-hand clothing. “We should get you some nice lingerie. It’ll make you feel beautiful inside.”
Marci pressed her fingers over the fresh scar running from her right jaw up to her cheek. She’d told the police she couldn’t remember how it got there, perhaps a piece of flying glass from the explosion. The paramedics said it looked more like a knife and she was lucky her throat wasn’t cut. They pushed, but she kept to her story, the one that would keep her out of jail.
“I can feel as beautiful as I want, Nikki. It doesn’t mean a man would think so.”
“Not if you keep wearing those baggy jeans. They make you look old and frumpy. There has to be something in that bag from the church donation box that would fit better. Why don’t you put on something more presentable?”
Marci made a big deal of looking around. They sat by the short kitchen section of the living portion of the tiny apartment. There was a wall within eight feet no matter which way she turned.
“Gee, Nikki, who’s going to see me here? And why don’t you move to someplace more acceptable? You live over an old two-car garage in a tiny apartment.” She stopped herself before she went too far. Nikki had taken what the town offered. She softened her tone. “You’re not in pre-med anymore. You’re the town doctor and yet you can’t even wash your hair without banging your elbows on the walls of that tiny shower.”
“The town of Climax, courtesy of Harry Perkins and his maiden aunt, provides this apartment at no cost.” Nikki looked around. “I spend all my time at the clinic anyway.” She narrowed her eyes at Marci. “But we’re talking about you. It’s a good thing your dresses with puffy shoulders and beads were burned to ashes. Out here people dress the same way their grandparents did, though women wear jeans now.” She pointed to Marci. “Ones that fit. Why don’t you let me take you to Dillon to shop?”
“You know why,” replied Marci. Ted had insisted she dress in style. She’d hated having to look as if she could walk on the set of Dynasty or Dallas and fit right in. What she wore was comfortable, unlike the tight gowns, spike heels, and other excessive fashions required to be accepted in the circles Ted wanted to move in. “And anyway, who’s going to see me except you?”
“You’ve been here weeks and as far as I know, you’ve never gone out except at night, well covered up.” Nikki pressed her lips together, and then sighed. “Yes, you’re going to have a visible scar for the rest of your life. But you can erase the one on your heart. You survived that fire. That piece of filth you married didn’t. Grab some life and kick up your heels, Marci. Don’t let Ted win. Move on to a better future.”
Nikki touched Marci’s arm, a gesture of caring she’d been doing since they were small.
“Now that Ted’s gone,” continued Nikki, “the only way to break free of his controlling influence is to do something totally wild and selfish, against everything he believed in.” She nodded her head briskly. “You’re right about avoiding marriage. You, sister dear, need a short-term lover.”
Simon inhaled the aroma of paradise. He hadn’t had much chance to pleasure women orally, and the few times had been long ago, but he was sure none has smelled as good as this woman. She was just what the doctor ordered. Hot, sexy, smart, and eager with a great smile.
There was a wet pussy right over his head, breasts above, and a first-class ass curving around the back. He couldn’t wait to sink his tongue and fingers into her pussy, then his cock. He’d try a finger in her ass, as well. If she liked it enough, and was still here when Lance got back, his brother would be a very happy man.
She bent her legs and shifted, so he moved his grip. His thumbs filled the inside creases of her thighs, and his fingers wrapped over her hips.
“Let me guide that wet, swollen pussy right to my mouth,” he said.
Though her face was as red as the swollen lips above him, she did what he asked. He inhaled again. He’d never forget her perfume. It was embedded in his DNA, or hotwired into his brain. He didn’t know or care as long as he could enjoy her dark curls wet with moisture. Below the curls her thick, swollen lips begged for his tongue.
“Oh, God, you smell so good.”
He used his tongue to press open the seam between her inner and outer lips. Once open, he felt for her clit. She gasped and tightened her thighs on his cheeks. Though he’d fought it at the time, he would have to thank the good doctor for insisting he be shaved before leaving the clinic. This first time had to be good for Marci so she would want more. Lots more.
“Get comfy because I want this to take a long, long time,” he said.
He flicked his tongue over her clit. She gasped and rewarded him with a gush of fluid. He took his time, licking up every bit. Then he pressed his tongue between her lips, now engorged and slick with fluid. Ambrosia. She moved her knees apart, sinking down on him.
He chuckled. “You’re a fast learner.”
“Shut up and keep working,” she said in a growl.
He went back to work with a wide smile. She was so hot, wet, and eager that she wouldn’t last long before she came for the first time. He concentrated on her clit with his tongue and put a finger inside her. She gasped when he hit a spot, so he worked it, using his finger as if motioning someone forward. She shivered and moaned. Her grip on his hair hurt, but it was so good. He sent his other hand lower, following the wet trail. When he got to her asshole he used his baby finger on her. She froze, and then curved her ass to pull him farther in.
“You like it in your ass, do you? That’s real good,” he murmured while she twisted and groaned. She yanked on his hair, so he put his tongue to good use again. With both hands busy and his tongue working her clit, it didn’t take long for her to shudder and come, gushing into his mouth. He kept the finger in her ass going as he sucked up every drop. Finally, she slumped. He was gasping almost as much as she. Gasping and grinning.
How had he gone so many years without pleasuring a woman?
“Oh, my,” she finally murmured. “So that’s what it’s all about.”
No, she couldn’t have meant that. She must be at least twenty-five years old. But she’d implied her husband was a selfish bastard, and he’d never even gone down on her. She needed a man to take the time to relax her so she could come fifty or so times.
Since no one else was around, he appointed himself. He helped her to lie down. She lay on his good side with her head on his chest, her right leg splayed over his. He lay there, almost content, until her breathing slowed.
“That was your first orgasm, was it?”
She twitched her shoulder, which he took as a hesitant “yes.”
“Well, honey, it ain’t gonna be your last.” He didn’t think she was ready for a deep kiss, but he couldn’t help planting a small one on her forehead. “Stay around for a while and you’ll get a lot more.”
A very Mona Lisa smile played around her lips. He nodded and her smile broadened to take up her whole face. He barely saw the red line anymore. It was there, but it didn’t matter. He tucked her close. Pleasuring Marci like that made him feel like he was the best damn man on the planet. His leg throbbed but he didn’t really care. He’d given a precious gift to her.
A woman only experienced her first orgasm once. And he was the man who’d done it for her.
She lifted her head. Dark, inquisitive eyes twinkled. Her hand strayed down his body to grasp his cock through the sheet.
“What can we do about this?”
“You can do anything you want,” he replied as calmly as he could. Had she gone down on a man before? Would she be shy, or eager?
She tilted her head. He realized her eyes were slightly slanted, like a cat. She slid down the bed until her head, leaning on her elbow, was at his hip. She grasped him hard.
Oh, yes. A hand job would be nice.
Her soft little palm and fingers felt so much better than his own callused ones. She stared at his cock for a bit. A few drops of pre-cum emerged. The tip of her tongue protruded between her lips. She wasn’t going to—
No. Of course not. She used her thumb to roll the liquid over the head of his cock. Her brow was furrowed a bit, and she worried at her lower lip with her upper teeth. God, he wanted those teeth scraping his cock!
“Oh, baby, that feels so good,” he said in encouragement. She lifted her head and leaned forward. He held his breath. She flicked her tongue over him.
“Oh, God, yes!”