Men of a Different Sort (MMF)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 18,309
2 Ratings (2.5)

[Ménage and More: Erotic Western Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F with M/M, spanking, HEA for MF]

A little game of hide and seek across the Wild, Wild West develops into a substantial union destined to last forever as one woman and two men make their unconventional home in a desolate prairie.

Callie Matthews grew up without a family. Little Joe Dylan took her in as a friend and promised to take care of her. Years later, Callie is pursuing her peculiar ambitions only to discover her wayward path leads her right back into Little Joe's arms.

An outlaw, Little Joe longs to have Callie beside him, but discovers his lust for man-love outweighs his desire to become a family man. A masculine lover in the form of Richard Brandon enters the picture, but Joe finds a way to keep Callie on guard, watching and waiting for him. When the time is right, Little Joe makes a final play and earns the hand of the lover he wants and the woman he can't live without.

Note: This book was previously published with another publisher.

A Siren Erotic Romance

Men of a Different Sort (MMF)
2 Ratings (2.5)

Men of a Different Sort (MMF)

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 18,309
2 Ratings (2.5)
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Cover Art by Jinger Heaston

Story excerpt


The ka-clink, ka-clink, ka-clink sounded out in a recognizable and undeniable jingle. Without question, the man behind the wayward walk stopped her heart. Only one cowboy in the Wild, Wild West owned such a pronounced gait and stepped to that particular pace.

Callie was in an outlaw’s presence, and she didn’t need to turn around to verify who’d entered the dimly lit room. She sensed him without his hands groping her or his strong body melding against her much smaller one.

The ebb and flow of the rowdy saloon activity softened the second he entered the building, and why wouldn’t the ambiance suddenly change? Few outlaws possessed his presence. Few men, if any, deserved her complete attention.

Callie Matthews held her breath. She placed splayed fingers against her belly. If she knew how to fake a believable swoon, she might have considered dropping to the dirt floor. Then again, the night held a lot of promise, and she didn’t want dust on her skirts. Instead, she waited, and oh Lord, how she yearned for his first touch.

When the air changed, she shut her eyes and anticipated his voice, the broken way he made his demands, or the halfhearted requests he expected her to meet with a certain amount of predictable enthusiasm. He depended upon her to respond the same way each and every time he rode into a town where he apparently thought he might find her.

They had a history, and she always respected his wishes. He didn’t wait his turn. She never asked him to. If she had a customer in hand, she’d drop him. If some lonesome gambler bought her a drink in hopes of sharing a whiskey sip, she’d gulp it.

The decision-making process was pretty simple. Her heart stopped one stroke shy of striking its next beat whenever she heard his distinct and alluring strut. Sometimes she thought the thumping in her chest quit altogether when he showed up in the desert saloons where she worked. Every nerve ending in her body came alive, and he set her womb on fire just by being close enough to touch her.

The man had his issues. Lord knew all about them, and she did, too. His flaws didn’t matter. He’d found her again and, most likely, wanted his just reward within the hour.

Folks everywhere called him Little Joe, but there wasn’t anything small about him. He had thick, long limbs and broad shoulders. He stood six foot five, and some said maybe even a tad taller. His hands were the biggest she’d ever held, and another important body part was the largest she’d ever felt.

Callie cared about Little Joe, but she feared him. They grew up on adjoining farms, but then Little Joe’s father had sent him away. When they met again a few years later, she had her eighteenth birthday behind her and a lot of tainted dreams tugging at her from the front. She was wild, young, and apparently just a little on the dumb side of things, dreaming up young woman fantasies.

Back then, when she thought about the future, she dreamed of men bidding for her time, bringing along expensive gifts, and paying for intimate services she wanted to provide anyway. She never imagined the loneliness or the life she’d forfeit working as a whore.

Little Joe had warned her. He told her so. She refused to listen.

“Whiskey,” he said in his gruff voice.

The barkeep there knew him. The locals recognized him. They harbored him for safekeeping because in Tombstone, the occasional outlaw—so long as he left the townsfolk alone—was viewed as a hero of sorts.

In Little Joe’s case, fear kept him out of trouble. No one thought they could take him, and if they did, with his bad attitude and worse reputation, no one wanted him. Callie was the exception, and even she denied the attraction. Refraining from admitting her feelings kept things simple between them.

She glanced over her shoulder before she motioned to one of the whores wiping down the bar there. She mouthed the words he’s mine.

The woman turned and looked his way. She shrugged as if she could take him or leave him. She didn’t look too impressed, but then again, whores never seemed overly interested in Little Joe until he cleaned up right nice.

Little Joe took his swig of whiskey, released an ah sound, and then he slammed the glass against the smooth wood surface. “Let me get a bottle. Two glasses.”

Callie swallowed over and over again. He was moving a little faster than the average Little Joe. He must’ve been without a woman, or a man, a little longer than what he liked.

Worse still, Callie miscalculated somewhere along the line. When she moved to Tombstone, left, and then returned again, she really didn’t think he’d find her there again.

Her error in judgment should’ve instilled a few jitters, but instead, her skin felt clammy, and her body prepared for him. No, she wasn’t afraid of what she faced upstairs. She couldn’t wait to get there.




The second his cock was in place, Richard pounded into Joe’s body. He snarled at first, like he was ready to have a little angry sex, and Callie knew from watching them before, the madder they were at one another, the harder they fucked out their differences.

With every stroke, Joe moaned an ongoing, stale cry. The soft echo sounded like music to her ears because she saw his expression. He was in heaven. His lover had finally claimed him again.

A few moments passed, and Richard pressed Joe’s calves high above his head and drove into his ass, thrusting himself deep inside Joe’s bottom. Richard looked as if he were falling in love all over again. Joe locked his bottom lip under his teeth and whimpered as he entered him, staring down the length of his body in an effort to see the connection and observe the continual penetration.

“You like it rough, Little Joe?” Richard asked, hammering inside him once more.

“Ah, yeah,” Joe finally replied in a broken voice. “That’s it. Fuck me, Richard. Fuck me wild.”

Richard stopped, yanked him forward, and grabbed his shoulders. His lips crashed against Joe’s in a meaningful kiss.

Stunned when they kissed in front of her, since they seldom met mouth to mouth, Callie narrowed her gaze, focusing on the way dueling tongues fought for the lead. Richard immediately backed away. He was apparently uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Turning Joe, he shoved him to the mattress and mounted him from behind.

“You’ll hurt him,” Callie screeched, thinking of the recent wounds.

Joe sneered. “Hush up, woman. He knows what I need.”

Once Joe was facedown against the bed, Richard rammed his cock into his ass and slapped his hip as he screwed him. “So you want it like this now, huh?”

Joe arched his back, and Richard pressed his palm between his shoulders. Pinning Joe to the bed, Richard hollered as he entered him. “Buck back this way! Fuck me, Joe. Don’t resist me, hon. Never resist me.”

“I can’t resist you,” Joe whispered.

“Can you handle me?” Richard slapped his bottom and grabbed him around his middle, careful to keep his cock buried between Joe’s ass cheeks. “Talk to me, Little Joe. Feel that?”

Richard’s hips jerked, and he pulled all the way out. Then he sank between Joe’s cheeks again, cupping his bottom and grinding away, fighting for a release certain to come.

“Give me more!” Joe screamed, panting as Richard buried his penis between his globes and rode him. “I want you. I’ve always needed you!”

Finally. Callie nearly cried her eyes out with Joe’s confession. Joe had always desired them both, but Richard was Joe’s basic need. He was as crucial and as valuable as food and water were essential for survival. She’d always known how deeply Joe cared for Richard, but she wondered if Joe had ever really shown Richard his heart.

Richard thrust in between his cheeks. He wiggled his ass as he sank deeper. “But you still betrayed me, Joe.” Hurt lingered in his voice. Tears slipped from his eyes.

“I didn’t,” Joe said. “I swear I didn’t, Richard. You were always with me.”

A shrill cry resounded, and Callie reached for Joe. Taking her hand in his, Joe brought her fingertips to his lips. Brushing his mouth across her knuckles, he wept like a little boy, the surge of guilt finally overpowering him.

At the same time, Richard brought Joe up to his knees, forcing him to his elbows. With a guttural growl, he withdrew and held himself at the base of his cock. “Callie, get under him.”

“What? Now?” This was their time together. Somehow it didn’t seem right to impose on such an intimate moment.

“Come here, Callie,” Joe said, pulling her under his body.

Seconds later, Little Joe penetrated her. Unable to resist the pending pleasure, she reveled in the way his cock parted her intimate lips. After a few broken thrusts, Joe kissed her and she finally relaxed.

Joe drove into her walls with a force strong enough to make her come instantly. Richard led the way, stroking Joe’s ass in a natural tempo.

“Richard, oh God, Richard!” Joe screamed out his name as he hammered inside her. “Callie, oh God, Callie. Forgive me.”

There was nothing to forgive.

Joe’s eyes closed in sweet surrender, and he pounded his penis into her vibrating walls. She shared a heated gaze with Richard, admiring him as he loved his man, and perhaps acknowledged her as his woman.

He continued to slap and fuck Joe’s ass. The whole time, he watched her like he wanted to know how it would feel to have her pussy clenching around him.

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