The Service Club Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)

The Service Club

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 86,300
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[Menage Amour: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Menage a Trois, Cowboys, Consensual BDSM, Sex Toys, Public Exhibition, MFM]

Forty-Eight Hour Burn

Georgia knows what Gavin and Randy expect in return for their touch. She’s primed and willing for the sacrifices to feel the fire these roughened, firefighter cowboys offer. Only one thing prevents her total surrender. When they ignite a burn in her that takes her to the edge of orgasmic insanity, she might change her mind.

All it takes is the right woman to have a cowboy bucking to please. Georgia is that woman for Randy, and he’s aching hard to bring on the pleasure. With only forty-eight hours to convince her to stay, he stands to lose a lifetime of crazed heaven.

Gavin figures himself a reasonable man. Fueled by desires for Georgia, he’s made it clear the erotic pleasures he plans to show her. In return, he demands total submission. Compromise isn't an option, especially when he believes she’s in danger from demons associating with him unleash.

Marissa's Rights

Marissa knows what Justin and Ben will demand in exchange for their touch. She longs to experience everything these tough cowboy cops aim to show her. When danger comes to her doorstep, a night in their protection brings her the closest she’s ever been to infinite pleasure. All she has to do is say the right words.

Ben has a pair of handcuffs and an ache beneath his belt to put them to use. He’s hard-pressed to take custody of Marissa’s pleasure. Watching her struggle with her inner demons is tearing him apart, but saving her from herself is the toughest case he'll face.

Justin is a patient man. Loaded with needs for Marissa, he’s made his intent to claim her clear and left her fate in her hands. He'll protect her from danger, but the right to a lifetime of crazed passion rests with her.

Tonya Ramagos is a Siren-exclusive author.

The Service Club Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Service Club Collection, Volume 1 (MFM)

The Service Club

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 86,300
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Forty-Eight Hour Burn


The sound of sirens drifted closer on the wind, putting an end to her questioning and elevating her anticipation right along with her fear. Flashes of clear and red lights blended with the yellowish-orange flames, creating a beauty only firefighters and those close to them could truly appreciate. The airbrakes of the fire engine whooshed as the truck came to a stop in the street out front.

Georgia didn’t turn.

More sounds floated to her ears, accelerating her heartbeat and stroking her nerves. She heard the truck doors slam, heavy steps of booted feet making their way around the house, and male voices she would recognize anywhere. She sensed them closing in behind her. Any woman with an ounce of estrogen in her veins would feel the intoxication oozing from them.

The cowboys are in the corral, exactly where I want them.

She dared to make a move, but only her eyes. Her gaze slammed into Gavin Scott’s unreadable green eyes and then slid to Randy Pope’s darker, more mysterious pair. When she first met Randy, she took him for an ally in her quest to tame Gavin. She got the impression she could count on Randy’s help in reaching some sort of compromise with the cocky, dominate firefighter who ruled her every fantasy. Instead, she fell in love with Randy, too, even as her impression of him went up in smoke. How many times had her father warned her about these rough, rowdy cowboys?

Georgia looked back at Gavin, at his wavy dark hair, at the permanent crease just above his forehead where his Stetson always sat when off duty, at the sexy lock that perpetually fell over his left brow. Even the dimness of the night didn’t hide the faint lines around his too-kissable mouth and eyes. Shoulders made for a woman to hang on to led to a solid chest, rigid abdomen, narrow hips, and long legs. He gave new definition to tall, arrogant, and built for distraction.

She said a silent apology. Sorry, Daddy, I tried, but I want them too much.

“Evening, Miss Cooper.” Randy’s tone sounded conversational enough and deceptive as hell.

“Evening, Firefighter Pope.” Georgia returned his greeting with the same inflection, but her attention remained focused on Gavin. The telltale intensity of his stare raised goose bumps all over her body. It was a look that told her he wanted her in a variety of naughty ways and devilish situations. Moist, little tugs of arousal stirred between her legs. She shifted her weight, attempting to alleviate the rapidly growing ache. She didn’t miss the flicker of keen knowledge that moved through his eyes.

“That’s some fire you’ve got there,” Randy drawled.




“Hey there, sweet thing.” Randy rested his elbow on the back of the seat, finding the silken strands of her hair with his fingers to toy and twist. He couldn’t wait to feel that silk cascading over his thighs as she took his throbbing erection in her adorable, little mouth. But first, he needed to figure out what bothered her. “Glad you could join us today. Are you…” okay, he started to ask, but caught sight of the little rectangular box Gavin held out for him.

“I thought you might want to get started while I drive,” Gavin said mildly.

Randy didn’t miss the way Georgia couldn’t seem to look away from the control as he took possession of it. With the mystery of her stiff movements solved, he relaxed. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He waited as Gavin backed the truck out of the drive, watching Georgia as she watched him. He purposely caressed the control in his fingers, but didn’t turn it on. Each time his fingertip neared the on button he heard Georgia suck in a slow breath.

“You’re wound mighty tight.” He grazed the backs of his fingers down her bare shoulder. Her skin felt as creamy as it looked, soft and sensual like the woman it covered. “Relax, sweetheart.”

“I’m not tense,” she countered far too quickly for believability. She was strung so tight he could strum her like a box guitar.

“Do you know what this does?” When she nodded in answer, he asked, “Why don’t you tell me? I’m not sure I do.”

Georgia made a raspberry sound at that. “Please, you know exactly what it does.”

“The please is nice. It’s not exactly in the context I plan to hear it from you, but we’ll get to that in a bit. The rest, well, whether I do or I don’t is irrelevant. I asked you to tell me.”

She glanced at him, a tinge of red rising to color her cheeks. It didn’t take much to turn her sweetly pale complexion the tempting color of a delicate rose. He couldn’t wait to see her lovely ass the same color that washed into her face.

“It controls the vibrator in my pussy.”

Christ, hearing her make such a simple statement shouldn’t sound so damned sexy, but it did. Her words lassoed his cock and squeezed tightly enough to make his balls sting. “Do you want me to turn it on?”

Her tongue slid along her bottom lip, and his cock turned to stone behind the zipper of his jeans. “I think so.”

“You think so?” He wanted her to know so. Gavin didn’t tell him exactly what his plans were for the day, but Randy had a few plans of his own. Making sure Georgia felt comfortable expressing exactly what she wanted, no matter what it turned out to be, topped his list.

“Come here.” He pulled her into his lap, careful not to jar her sex and push the egg too deeply inside her. When something went deep enough to pierce her tight womb, he wanted it to be his cock, not some friggin’ toy. Able to reach her better now, he delved his free hand between the folds of her dress, pulling it open and bearing her breasts.

“Randy!” Her gasp turned to a moan as he caught her hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a little twist.

“Yes, sweet thing?” He gave her other nipple the same treatment, biting back a moan of his own when she squirmed, her delectable ass grinding on his rigid cock.

“We’re in the truck. What if someone sees?”

“What if they do?” He cupped her breast in his palm and lifted it, dipping his head to take the nipple between his teeth for a tender nip.

“Damn, that’s hot,” Gavin whispered.

“It tastes hotter,” Randy said around the hardened point.

“I can make sure someone sees,” Gavin offered. “We could go for a spin through town rather than keeping to the back roads.”

Randy expected Georgia to protest. When she didn’t, he lifted his head to study her. “You don’t really care who sees, do you? You want people to see me having my way with these beautiful tits of yours.”

“I want you to turn on the vibrator inside me.”

Bingo. Randy let himself grin as he repositioned the controller in his hand. “That’s all you had to say.” He pushed the button, adjusting the vibration to start on its lowest setting. A soft hum filled the cab of the truck.

“Ooh. Ahh.” Georgia’s head fell back to rest against the window, her eyes closing as the toy worked her channel in an easy rhythm.

She looked, Randy decided, more beautiful than she ever had in his fantasies with her head slung back, her dress open, and breasts free. He wanted to be that egg inside her, to feel her inner muscles as they convulsed around his throbbing shaft.

He increased the vibrations and felt his jeans grow damp to the left of his zipper. Not from his own pre-cum. No, those were her juices that wet his pants. “Are you creaming, Georgia?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate to answer, drawing out the sound like a snake ready to strike.

“You can’t come.”

Her head came up at Gavin’s words, and her eyes widened. “But…”

“It’s all about control,” Gavin cut her off. “Consider this your first lesson.”

Georgia’s gaze snapped to Randy as if she expected him to say something to help her out. He helped her out, all right. He pushed the vibrations up another notch.

She caught hold of the dash with one hand, her other digging into his shoulder as a mewling sound rumbled from her lovely throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, intense concentration taking over her expression. Randy knew she fought with all her might not to come. It was a battle he felt certain she would lose the first time around.


Marissa's Rights


“Police. Open up.”

She couldn’t stand and didn’t bother to try. She reached a shaky hand to the knob, thumbed the lock free, and twisted. The door eased open. The lights of a second squad car joined the first, mixing with the dim glow of her front porch lamp and spilling into her foyer.

Bart Evans stared down at her beneath the bill of his cowboy hat, one hand resting on the butt of his sidearm still nestled in his gun belt. “Are you alone in here, Marissa?”

No warmth, no friendliness. Just detached cop authority. She shivered even as she nodded. If she’d been given her pick of responding officers, he wouldn’t have been one of them. “He t-took off d-down the s-street when I dialed 911.”

Bart pushed the door open the rest of the way as he cast a look over his shoulder at the deserted street out front. Scowling, he nodded once and stepped out of view. Her gaze landed on another figure hurrying toward her. Nothing could hide the raw possession she saw in the eyes of the man making his way up her front porch steps.

In that single instant, she felt claimed. Every pore in her body reacted to his presence as if it belonged to him, as if she belonged to him. She did. He knew she did. The predatory confidence swirling and building just beneath the surface of his eyes told her he did. After tonight, the whole town would know it, too.

“Isn’t your shift over?” she heard Bart grumble as he passed the second officer.

“Not for another ten minutes.”

Marissa’s breath caught at the carefully controlled sound of Ben Hoffman’s voice. Goose bumps danced over her flesh, colliding with the feathers of heat that caressed every place his gaze slid as he pointedly looked her over. She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, barely able to ignore the ache in her nipples that begged for his grim-set lips to close around their taut tips.

“She’s in the house. Claims the perp ran down the street. I’m going to see what I can find.”

Ben didn’t spare the other officer a glance. Two long strides brought him directly in front of her. He kneeled, one hand going for the volume of his department radio on his hip even as he skimmed the fingers of his other hand down her cheek.

“Are you all right?”

The compassion in his softly spoken question brought tears to her eyes. She swallowed, instinctively leaning into his touch as she studied him. Not one to wear a cowboy hat, his blondish-brown curls fell in haphazard ringlets around a lean face with killer cheekbones and penetrating blue eyes. His uniform shirt stretched over broad shoulders, defining the muscles in his chest and hinting at the six-pack of his abdomen.

Marissa wanted to nuzzle her face against his chest, to feel the solid strength she knew she would find. She imagined she could fall asleep there, calmed by the steady beat of his heart, held in the comforting security of his arms. Wasn’t it funny how she could think of such soothing tenderness with this man when he scared her clean to her soul? Not because she thought he might hurt her. No, Ben would never cause her an ounce of pain…at least no pain that didn’t result in insurmountable pleasures. The thought of those pleasures, of being at this man’s mercy for the myriad experiences her body throbbed for him to show her, sent fear tickling down her spine.

“Did he hurt you?” Ben’s hand dropped to her bare knee, fingers massaging gently as he shifted his weight on the balls of his booted feet.




“She’s stunning.” Marissa visibly stiffened at Ben’s softly spoken words, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

“I could stand here looking at her till the sun comes up.” Justin drank from his beer and then tipped the bottle toward her. “There’s your answer.”

Ben let his gaze fall from the back of Marissa’s slightly bowed head, down the silky curtain of her blonde hair to the tips that flirted with the crack of her ass. Her very bare ass made all the more alluring by the sheen of see-through lace stopping just below the curve of her cheeks. He hadn’t needed an answer to the question he asked when he helped her stand in the foyer. He had known she wasn’t wearing panties. Though she sat against the wall with her legs pulled to her chest, not showing him anything until he pulled her to her feet, he had smelled her, felt the heat of her arousal wafting from her exposed pussy.

“I would say it’s almost a waste of fine lace and satin, but damned if it’s not one of the prettiest sights I’ve ever seen.” Justin pushed away from the door and strode into the room. “I like this look on you, Marissa. It’s very sexy. Does it make you feel sexy, darlin’?”

Her timid response barely reached Ben’s ears as he continued to watch from the doorway. He understood Justin’s intent. Their biggest hurdle in claiming Marissa lay in the deep humiliation she possessed over her desires. Making her admit to the needs ruling her soul would be the only chance they stood of keeping her happy, of loving her as she deserved to be loved.

“Do you dress like this all the time when you’re alone?” Justin didn’t touch her but slowly circled her like a lion caging his prey.

She breathed deep, the movement causing her hair to fall straighter down her back and exposing the edges of her shoulders. Shoulders, Ben noted, growing pinker with each question Justin asked, each admission she muttered.

“Are there panties to complete the outfit?” Ben saw her startle at the sound of his voice, but she still didn’t turn, didn’t attempt to look at either of them. He deduced it to be embarrassment rather than obedience that kept her standing ramrod straight with her hands clasped behind her back. While he wanted his woman to submit, even enjoyed rising a certain level of trepidation in her at what he might do to her next, this kind of shy mortification simply wouldn’t do.

Justin smirked. “I believe Ben is obsessed with your lack of panties.”

Ben shot him a look and repeated the question. “Are there panties to complete the outfit, Marissa?”

“Yes.” Quiet. Too close to the verge of cracking. God, if she started to cry…Still, he feared they would have to harm her emotional barriers in order to break down her walls.

“Why aren’t you wearing them?” He stopped inches from her back and touched the swell of one bare ass cheek. It flexed beneath his fingertip, and he smiled. “Answer me, sweetheart. What made you decide to forgo the panties tonight?”

“I don’t like them.”


“They get too w-wet.”

Ben barely managed to stifle the groan he felt bubbling in his chest at that confession. Christ on a pogo stick, the knowledge her pussy got wet enough to soak her panties when she walked around her house alone made him all the more eager to see how sodden he could make her with his touch.

“What do you think about that makes your pussy that wet?”

“You. Both of you.”

A choir of angels could have sung the words, and they wouldn’t have sounded any more heavenly to Ben’s ears.

“Are you wet now?” Justin’s tone sounded as tight as Ben’s chest felt. “Is your cunt coated in juices for us?”


“How wet?” Ben heard himself ask the question before the intent formed fully in his mind. All his focus settled in his cock, the need to sheath his shaft in the wetness she spoke of controlling his mouth right along with his hormones.


He pushed her hair to one side, stealing a nibble of the flesh where her neck and shoulder met that elicited a low, sultry moan from her throat. “Show me,” he whispered against her skin.

She turned her head so fast she nearly hit him in the cheek with her chin. She would have if he hadn’t picked that moment to quickly pull away. Her hazel eyes widened, giving her the complete deer-in-the-headlights look as she stared at him, disbelief and denial warring in her expression.

“Show me, Marissa,” he commanded again, a little louder, a little more forceful. “I want to see how wet you are.”

She shook her head. Ben’s heart plummeted in disappointment, thinking she refused, until she spoke. “How?”

“Touch yourself. Swipe a finger between your pussy lips and hold it up for me to see the juices that cover it.” The struggle in her gaze as she kept her eyes trained on him twisted a knife in his gut. He cupped her cheek, needing so desperately for her to trust him, to feel comfortable with him. “Marissa, listen to me, sweetheart. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. You’re with us. You want us, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Let us help you. Let us show you there’s no need for shame or self-recrimination.” Damn, he teetered on the edge of begging here. “You’re too spectacular, sexual, perfect to hide from yourself, from the pleasures you truly want. God, baby, you’re killing me here.”

“Killing you?” Justin chuckled gruffly. “How about us?”

The corner of her lips twitched in the first hint of a smile.

“We want you.” Ben didn’t hold anything back. He saw no reason to. He wanted her more than his next breath, and he knew Justin felt the same. “Knowing you’re wet for us, geezus, you don’t know how crazy that’s making us.”

His cock turned to steel as her lips formed an O of pleasure. Was there anything more exciting than watching a woman enjoy her own touch? Damn right! Taking over the job to bring her to mountainous heights of pure ecstasy sent the excitement bucking off the charts.

Soon, he promised himself as she lifted her hand to hold it in front of his face. Very, very soon.

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