Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

Max waited a moment. When she didn’t give in, he sighed and turned away. His feet thudded up the stairs, one at a time. Her chin wobbled. Would she ever have a chance for such absolute pleasure again? He looked over his shoulder at her. She hardened her heart, lifted her chin, and glared up at him.

“Sophie, I’m not—”

She turned so fast her skirts almost tripped her. All the way to her room she felt his sad eyes on her back.

“I haven’t touched a man in seven years!” She pulled the pins out of her hair with trembling fingers. Her braid fell down her back. “He’s like an icicle in public, treating me as if I’m nothing but a servant. Then he does this!”

She hung her dress on the hook by the barred door.

“I don’t need him. Once Mr. Isaac is dead, I can leave Tanner’s Ford and go where I want. I can sell this hotel and buy a home of my own. No one will care if I visit a big city and find a man to entertain me. I can come back to my friends and live happily.”

Her petticoats dropped to the floor. She stepped out of them and placed them across the chair, ready for the morning. Her shift followed her dress over her head. The cool air touched her heated skin. She stomped to the wall to hang her shift over her dress. Her naked thighs slipped past each other. She looked down. Fluid glistened in the lamplight from her swollen pussy lips to almost halfway to her knees. She clenched her internal muscles as if she had a cock inside. They responded sluggishly, as if too swollen to react.

“It’s not only men who have needs! “

She looked at her swollen breasts. Her nipples, hard and crinkled, stuck out. She cupped her breasts. Her hands weren’t big enough to cover all her flesh. Max’s would not only cover her, his calluses would rub deliciously against her nipples.

“Enough!”

She yanked on her nightgown, kicked her shoes off, and rolled down her stockings. She placed them in her shoes and climbed into bed. Her cold, empty, bed.

“I would never have let him lift my skirts and take me against the wall.”

Yes, you would, she answered silently.
And then you’d beg for more.

The bed ropes squeaked when she shoved herself onto her side. She thumped her pillow for good measure. She would not let one man’s touch change her mind.

No matter how much she wanted more.

* * * *

Sam Gibson rested his hand on the square newel post at the top of the back stairs. Max was sleeping in their room over the kitchen. What had possessed him to touch Sophie like that? He rubbed the cock straining against his pants. That was the reason. Sophie McLeod made him so damn hot that every time he saw her he wanted to haul her into the nearest bed and ravish her.

“Don’t need a bed. Wall will do,” he said. He thought back to what he’d been doing when he realized she watched him ironing Max’s shirt. “Or a table.”

He snorted a laugh and scrubbed his hair. Yes, the sturdy table he’d done his ironing on would take her weight. It was even the perfect height. He could lay her on her back, lift her skirts, and slide right into her pussy. Or he could bend her forward and take her from behind. Either way, she’d be hot and wet, and wanting. Just like tonight.

“How the heck am I going to pretend to be ice-cold Max when I know she’s not wearing drawers?”

Sliding his fingers up her slippery thighs had him trembling. When his fingers touched her swollen pussy instead of a cotton barrier, he’d almost come in his pants. He had a wet spot from pre-cum, but at least he hadn’t exploded like a youth.

He was the first of them to see Sophie. He had been in the dining room with Byron Ashcroft. She’d come in with Casey, but he only had eyes for the prim, widowed Mrs. Amos McLeod. The way she held her head high and looked directly at him made him want her. The sway of her hips made him want her. So did the challenge in her eyes.

He had an idea from her spark and determination that she’d be passionate, but this was more than he’d hoped for. She’d come from his touch, grinding her clit against his palm. He was sure it was her first time, and that she wanted more. Yet she’d pushed him away when he thought she’d invite him back to her room to finish the job.

He groaned, letting his head fall back to thud against the wall. What the heck had Max done while he was away? Didn’t his twin want Sophie? Likely he’d put everything aside until they finished this last assignment. Why couldn’t Max enjoy a side trip now and then, instead of staying on the straight and narrow?

This was one of the problems with having an identical twin few people knew about. Judge Thatcher knew, and he’d likely told Sheriff Barstow. Maybe it slipped out when he or Max was interviewing someone. But obviously Sophie didn’t know. Would she change her mind if she knew there were two of them, and that he was the one who’d flirted with her?

He rubbed his swollen cock, wishing it was Sophie’s hand. No, her mouth, taking him deep as he fought to stay still. And then he’d fill her pussy and explode inside her, pumping until she came for a second time. If he was really lucky, and they could keep her for a while, he might get her to consider having one of them slide into her ass. His cock throbbed, begging for release.

“Sorry for waking you, buddy, but it won’t be happening tonight.”

He was suddenly exhausted from the long ride. Sophie was gone for the night. He might as well try to sleep. He gave the quiet knock to let Max know it was him, opened the door, and entered. Max saw it was him, rolled over, and was soon snoring again. Sam stripped to his drawers and collapsed into bed. He curled on his side as usual. His hand ended up near his nose. He inhaled Sophie’s feminine scent.

“The next time we get together, Sophie McLeod, I’m not walking away,” he vowed.

“That Mr. Gibson’s back again. I already gave him breakfast.”

Sophie stilled for a moment at Billy’s voice before setting the hot pie down with a thump. She blew on her fingers. They weren’t quite as protected by the cloth as she’d hoped. Neither was her heart protected if it thumped like that just from the thought of him.

She’d tossed and turned all night. Should she have pushed him away? She might have been flying this morning, satisfied and eager for more. Instead, she was tired, grumpy, and very, very frustrated. When she dressed, she’d braided her hair looser than normal. She wound it around her head like a crown but pinned it in a less severe way. Her top two buttons were undone and she’d folded her sleeves back so her wrists showed.

If Max’s fingers could bring her to orgasm in only a few minutes, what could the rest of him do? She shouldn’t be greedy.

But you want to be greedy. You want those screaming multiple orgasms the valley wives boast about.

She shut the stove door with a slam. Unfortunately Max Gibson was the first man in her twenty-six years to make her heart beat erratically and her pussy swell. She mercilessly tamped down another wave of arousal before it flashed up her chest. She was not going to be burned by a man.

While she might want Max in her bed temporarily, most of the time he looked like the sex-means-marriage type of man. She wasn’t against remarrying, but she wanted more than he could provide. Why shouldn’t she have passion and laughter, spankings and cuddling, and screams of release from three large, determined, dominant men? She set her fists on her hips and frowned at Billy. “What does that Eastern dude want now?” she asked.

“Breakfast,” said Billy.

He idly scratched a scab on his forearm, but she saw him watching her out of the corner of his eyes. He’d shown up before dawn and prepared the dining room while she rushed around the kitchen. Mary Barstow usually made the bread and pies but was still too queasy in the morning. Sophie hadn’t really paid attention to who wanted breakfast, but…She frowned.

“Didn’t he already eat?”

“First thing,” said Billy, nodding. “But he just came in again. He looked tired, so I gave him a cup of coffee.” He looked around, hunching his shoulders and lowering his voice. “I figure he was out late catching varmints, fell asleep after eating the first time, and just got up. Maybe he’s too tired to remember he was already here.” His eyes strayed to the counter. He licked his lips. “You got enough of them pies?”

“Enough for dinner and supper and still leave a piece or two for a hungry young man,” she said. Billy gave her a woeful look that said he hadn’t eaten for days. She laughed. “You had oatmeal and bacon not two hours ago.”

“So did Mr. Gibson, and he ate lots more than me. I just asked Doc about all that eatin’. He said maybe he had a tapeworm.”

Doc and Sheriff Barstow knew about Sophie covering room and board for Maxwell Gibson while he investigated Mr. Isaac and Frederick Smythe, both lowdown men who had harmed the citizens of Tanner’s Ford. Max hadn’t yet given them any information on Isaac in return for all his meals. If he didn’t get going soon, she and Lily would have to do something. Sophie would do anything to catch the beast who’d beaten and raped Molly Sinclair and Sarah Unsworth, now Mrs. Luke Frost.

“Uh, Miz Sophie? Should I bring him another plate?”

She was furious with Max last night, but this morning was different. He was six feet of broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Except for the day they met and last night, he kept himself under tight control. When he smiled last night, he looked even more handsome.

Her temper rose to match her burning face. She would give him one more chance. If he smiled and flirted at her like he had that first time, she’d try again. But a bit of charm wasn’t going to pay her bills.

“He won’t be having a free second breakfast today, Billy.” She removed her kitchen apron, smudged where she’d wiped her fingers, and put on the crisp white one she used in the dining room. “He’s going to pay for the extra food or go without.”

She wrapped her hand in a cloth, grabbed the coffeepot, and headed out to do battle. He sat at the far side of the room. She gave him her usual pleasant hotelkeeper smile. He did not return it. In fact, he glared.

Mr. Maxwell Gibson may not realize it, but he’d just declared war.

She raised her chin and looked away. Since she’d been so busy in the kitchen with Mary off, she hadn’t had a decent visit with the regulars. She’d fill the cups of everyone else first. Making Gibson wait was petty, but it gave her time to get up her nerve. It also gave her a bit of satisfaction. If he’d smiled, he’d be drinking coffee already. She paused at the first table.

“Doc, how’s Rosa? Stomach still troubling her in the mornings?”

“She can’t abide the smell of coffee,” said Doc as he nodded his thanks for the refill. Twin spots of color appeared on his cheeks. “I’ve counseled many mothers to be over the years, but it’s different when it’s your own wife.”

“You’ll be a better doctor knowing what it’s like on the other side of the bed.” Doc chuckled as Sophie continued on. Since there wasn’t anyone else in the room, she stopped at each table to adjust a tin mug, or straighten the wooden stew spoons. She could feel Max’s temper rise as she studiously ignored him.

“Madam, would you be so kind as to provide coffee and the breakfast that I’m due?”

She looked up, pretending to be surprised to see him. She sashayed over, letting her hips sway more than a bit with each slow step. It was difficult after a lifetime of rushing to serve guests while hiding her womanliness. Growing up in her father’s hotel she’d purposely made herself less attractive to stop the wandering hands of guests. Amos’s death, and the threat of losing her business if the mayor and banker called her lewd, had made her hide her sex even more.

But no longer would she hide who she was. Attractive or not, she was an unmarried female. Having a business of her own, as well as an obvious ability to cook and clean, would make her a target. A man could pretend to care for her, seducing her with pretty words and presents. But once married, her husband would own her hotel, and her body. She was not her mother, needing a man to survive. She could enjoy herself. So she pretended she was one of Lily’s fallen women and Max was the wealthy customer she had her eye on. Though he tried to keep his face blank, he couldn’t hide his reaction to her.

His eyes were a deeper green than normal. They seemed to whisper that he wanted her body, though his stiff posture and stern expression said he didn’t want what came with it.

Sophie knew she was stubborn, argumentative, and determined. She had a business to run, and weakness would have allowed Rivers and Jennet to destroy her. If she was a man, she would be held in high esteem because of the qualities that damned her as a woman.

But she held the power this time. No matter that Max tried to pretend she meant nothing to him, last night his cock had pressed, hot and hard, against her belly. They both had wanted that cock to slide between her wet thighs. She gave Max a look that said she knew what he wanted, and would have given it to him. But now he’d thrown it away.

Max stood as she approached. He gave a curt bow. Someone had taught him manners. Pinkerton detectives were kept to a high standard of behavior, but she sensed Max’s standards came from himself, rather than the job. That was why it confused her that he would try to swindle her by eating twice.

“Thank you, Mrs. McLeod. So kind.” He held out his cup. Sarcasm dripped from his tongue.