[Ménage Amour: Erotic Cowboy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, light bondage, HEA]
Alexandra Clyde-Smith is a wealthy heiress and music student. Publically degraded and humiliated, she flees her Boston home. By chance she arrives in Ridge Water, Texas, a small town and the perfect hideaway. She reinvents herself as Sandy, shy ex-city girl, vet’s assistant, and trailer park resident. All she wants is a quiet life and time to recuperate, incognito.
In a cash-strapped reality, Lance and Paul Goodyear have set aside their dreams. They work hard to build their new small business. Lance someday wants a heterosexual ménage relationship that includes his brother, but doesn’t think they have a lot to offer yet. Paul is only interested in casual liaisons. It all changes when they meet Sandy.
With counseling and the love of two good men, Sandy begins to heal. She wants to stay with them in the quirky county and make their dreams come true. They all have secrets, but does the truth matter? Will a past mistake return to haunt her and ruin everything?
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Note: This is a stand-alone title.
A Siren Erotic Romance
She got out of the Hummer and hurried across the road to the removal truck. No one was in the cab, so she assumed that they must be inside the building. She glanced guiltily back at her car as she headed through the wedged-open double doors just as a huge mass of Bubble Wrap was walking out.
“Oh!” she gasped as she collided with the mass of plastic and bounced back. “Ughhawww!”
Bizarrely, she had time to recognize that the ascending pitch and volume of her shriek sounded ridiculous as she staggered back two steps, arms whirling, and stumbled off the sidewalk. She would have fallen hard on her ass if a big body hadn’t leapt out the back of the truck and caught her.
“I gotcha,” he heaved.
The Bubble Wrap beast cursed and quickly settled down next to her. A tall, broad guy stepped out from behind the mound of plastic with a concerned look on his handsome face. She couldn’t help but gawk. He must have fallen from the gorgeous tree and hit every branch on the way down. He had unruly, warm-chestnut-colored hair with wisps reaching below his ears and touching his collar. His big eyes were of the darkest brown and fringed with long black lashes, yet there was nothing effeminate about his face and certainly nothing in the way he’d been assembled.
“Are you okay? Darn, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“I–I’m fine,” she stammered, a bit shook up.
He visibly relaxed and his eyes unashamedly roamed over her body—it felt like a visual frisk.
“You certainly are,” he murmured appreciatively.
The guy behind her exhaled a sharp, derisive snort and muttered, “Don’t start.”
She felt his warm breath against the sensitive skin on her neck. It sent a delightful shiver down her spine. She inhaled a natural, alluring male scent that inexplicably triggered her muscles to relax, and she leaned into him. It was as if her body recognized something that her mind did not want to contemplate, because they were men and they were not to be trusted. She immediately stiffened.
“I–I…” Shocked and confused, she was lost for words.
Mr. Bubble Wrap’s eyes stopped their slow perusal of her form and settled on her ample chest with a look of wry amusement. At the same time both she and the stranger who held her from behind realized where his big paws were pressed. She gasped, and he hissed as he quickly snatched his hands away from her breasts as if they were hot potatoes, or in her case, large, scalding squashes.
“Oh, God,” she muttered, feeling mortified.
She jerked away from his solid torso and wished that the sidewalk would crack open and swallow her whole. She felt flustered and knew that her hot face probably looked like a tomato.
The man sidestepped around her and stood next to his Bubble Wrap buddy. She stared at her trendy, scuffed sneakers, wanting to avoid eye contact with either of them. It was impossible. There was something about them that demanded her attention. No, no, no way. Men cannot be trusted. She wasn’t about to let a guy close again. Fooled once? Certainly. Twice? Not on her life.
Finally she took a deep breath and allowed herself a fleeting glance at the other guy. Immediate impression? Scary. He was similar enough to Bubble Wrap that she deduced they could be related, probably from the same gorgeous tree, but he’d missed most of the branches. They were both big and buff, but he was brawnier than Bubble Wrap and his speed and reflexes suggested a professional level of fitness. He appeared a little older and his face was harsher with more prominent features. His stern countenance was not helped by the razor-short cut of his dark-ash-blond hair, nor the jagged scar that ran from his jaw, across the side of his mouth, to his cheek, and gave the suggestion of a snarl. They both had faint dark circles under their eyes, but it gave his face a more lived-in look.
At first he—Scarface—appeared severe and critical as he frowned, and she felt intimidated by him. Then he looked down at her and caught her gaze as effectively as he had her body, and smiled. Wow. A transformation occurred that stunned her. His cool gray eyes seemed to warm with genuine kindness. Despite his damaged lips, the rough-and-tough look he had going on seemed to soften.
Since the incident, she found it hard to talk to young men, but these two were something more. They were all prime male, not boys but real men. Even she wasn’t immune to the way their jeans hung on their lean hips and hugged their firm-looking thighs. It totally unsettled her. No, she wouldn’t ask them about accommodation.
“Sorry,” the catcher-groper said, holding up his hands as if warding off evil.
“Nah, you’re not,” drawled Bubble Wrap with an easy, confident smirk, not taking his eyes off her, or rather her chest. “I certainly wouldn’t be.”
Catcher narrowed his eyes, and the warmth in them bled away. The color seemed to go from soft gray to hard granite as he glared at the other man with a look that would have frozen hell but seemed to have little impact on Bubble Wrap. Then he turned to her, and his face underwent a transformation again from hard and forbidding to open and friendly. Steve Boardman had been able to do that, one minute arrogant, confident, and brash with his buddies, the next acting romantic and tender toward her. He was a consummate liar, and she’d fallen for it. Never again.
“Yes, I am,” he said with sincerity just dripping off his words.
“So am I,” she huffed angrily.
Before they recovered from their obvious surprise at her sharp retort and could say anything else, she spun on her heel and marched across the road. A horn beeped as a car narrowly missed her backside. She squeaked and leapt a foot in the air. Drat! There went her cool, haughty exit. The weight of their puzzled stares pressed on her back as she hurried along the sidewalk to where her Hummer was parked. She deliberately kept her eyes forward, and locked down the nagging urge to look back at them. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
“I can’t take you all the way,” she said, frustrated.
“God, I love the feel of your mouth on me. You don’t need to take it all the way down your throat. The top, particularly under the crown, is the most sensitive part anyway.” He touched the pleasure point to show her. “Put some lube on your hand, and then you can grip me at the base to stop yourself from taking too much. Move your hand as you move your mouth, and use your tongue under the rim.”
Lance took hold of her hand and squirted a cool gel on it. He surprised her by then unbuttoning his fly, pushing his jeans down, and fishing out his tackle. Oh my—Mr. Ed. She felt giddy. He was hung like a horse, and it was a thing of beauty. She’d never considered male dangly bits as particularly attractive before tonight. Lance was not quite as thick as Paul, but at least an inch and a half longer. It rose up and curved slightly toward his torso. The skin on the shaft was a shade darker than Paul’s and the mushroom-shaped head was almost purple in color.
“Oh, my God. You were aptly named, Lance.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “And I have no objection to a tournament with you,” he joked.
She watched in astonishment as he winked at her, squirted some lube onto his own hand, and wrapped it around his shaft. Slowly he began to squeeze and pull. It mesmerized her for a few seconds, and only when Paul gently bucked his hips did she return her attention to him.
“Sorry, got distracted,” she murmured. Her cheeks felt hot again.
Paul smiled at her. “It happens, and it won’t be the last time, I’m sure. Goes with having two lovers at the same time.”
Just how experienced in this matter were they? Doesn’t matter.
“Distraction is part of the game, sweetheart,” Lance added. “Now suck him. He’s cocked and loaded. Won’t take him long to come.”
“But I don’t want this to be over with too soon. What else do you like, Paul?”
* * * *
She wanted to know what he liked. He liked it all. He liked to be blown and jerked off in his truck. He liked to shove his cock in a tight ass and pound it harder than a judge’s gavel. He liked to come on a woman’s face, chest, or ass. He liked tea-bagging and having his balls sucked and licked. He liked pushing his cock between large breasts. He liked doing those things as Lance watched or joined in, and he was a voyeur in turn. He liked a spit roast—when Lance took a woman from behind while he fucked her mouth, and vice versa. He liked riding a woman’s ass while Lance was pumping her cunt. He would love to do all of that and more with Sandy. He’d love to do it bareback and fill her sweet pussy with his cum every damn day of his life. Fuck. Small steps. Calm down.
She wanted to please him, to take time with him…and it was a sweet torture. Part of him just wanted to grab her hair and work that pretty mouth up and down his cock until he came. It warred with the desire to make the experience last as long as possible. More importantly, he wanted her to like doing it, and to want to do it again. Maybe in the future they could get a little rougher, kinkier even, but for now he would be restrained because she was shy and relatively innocent. He didn’t mind. Although he liked rough and ready sex, he enjoyed it any way. Small steps, small steps, small steps.
“I like my balls to be fondled and sucked,” he managed to say.
When he’d worked on a ranch and spent a lot of time in the saddle, it was therapeutic to have his balls licked and sucked at the end of the day—after a good shower of course. He still liked it and it was the reason he kept his pubic hair trimmed.
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Maybe another time,” he quickly added, not wanting to put her off.
“No, I’d like to try it,” she said as she stared between his legs. She whispered as if talking to herself, “They look so full, like a ripe fruit.”
Before he could say anything she slowly, cautiously, buried her face between his thighs…and took him toward heaven. First she licked her tongue across the surface of his tight scrotum while her hand massaged his balls.
“Oh, yeah,” he groaned.