Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

She gaped at him. “You’re married?”

“No, I am most definitely not! Men take action while women wait for their triumphant return. You will not be privy to these discussions as they are not for gentle ears.”

“Gentle ears?” She snorted a laugh. “I thought you said you did your research well.” She crossed her arms over her chest and slowly shook her head, tut-tutting like a nanny. He squirmed, wanting to know more, but she refused to continue.

“Explain yourself, woman!” he finally blurted out.

She thought she heard a chuckle, but it was quickly cut off. She looked down her nose at Max, though he was far taller.

“I grew up in a hotel, Mr. Gibson, hearing and seeing many things. I married Mr. McLeod to escape what some call a fate worse than death.” Her temper at the situation rose with each word. “I met with little Molly Sinclair and Sarah Unsworth when they were rescued from that hellhole in Bannack City.” She jabbed her finger at his chest. “How
dare
you suggest I cannot take action against a monster merely because I have nothing swinging between my legs!”

“Mrs. McLeod!”

“What? We both know you have a cock and I don’t. Unless you are unfamiliar with the parts of a woman? Shall I demonstrate?” She quickly flipped open her top four buttons.

“No!”

“Don’t stop her, Max,” drawled Sam. “I want to see the curves under that ugly dress.”

Sophie suddenly remembered where she was. In a bedroom with two handsome, single guests. Men who both exasperated and aroused her. She pushed her shoulders back, letting her dress open to the top of her bosom. She couldn’t remember being this aroused. Was it finally allowing her anger out? Or was it the way two pairs of identical green eyes stared at the tops of her breasts. Her heaving breasts, she realized, as she fought to breathe. Though the window was partly open, the room felt hot and close.

A brief warning touch of fingertips caressed her neck before they stroked over her collarbone and into the open flap of her dress. A delicate touch, designed to arouse and inflame. It was only a brush, quickly gone, but Sam’s brand lingered on her skin.

“You will leave us, madam,” declared Max.

Sam sighed, exaggerating it to make his point. He winked, opened the door, and mouthed a word that might have been “later.” Stunned, she walked through. The door closed behind her. The click of a lock followed. She could hear nothing but growled murmurs from behind the thick wood. She stood alone in the hall, lips swollen from Sam’s kiss and more aroused than she’d thought possible.

Finally she’d come alive, was eager for more, and he—or they—had left her high and dry. No, not dry. Wet and throbbing, desperate for release.

“The lowdown, yellow-bellied rats!”

She kept her words low out of habit. If she was the type to shout and throw things, this would be the time. No wonder Max could be in the mercantile one moment and the hotel shortly after. While the double-teaming was an excellent idea in their line of work, she should have been informed. Did Lily know? If not, she’d be even more furious.

Sophie took calming breaths. It was not good for a businesswoman to appear out of sorts. That was a bland word to describe how she felt. She wanted to use her cast-iron fry pan on their heads. At the same time she wanted to haul them into her bed. Maybe not Max. From his actions she believed he’d be a selfish lover. But she could be wrong. He had the manners of a gentleman, so might try to see that his woman enjoyed herself. Sam, on the other hand, would make damn sure that she…
Enough!

Sophie whirled around and stomped down the back stairs. Once in her domain she took her time, checking the kitchen to make sure the fires were banked, food put away, the doors and windows secure. Each step helped her calm herself. Only when she completed her routine did she go to her room. She lit the bedside lamp, trying to take joy in the crazy quilt she’d sewn for herself. But her cold bed didn’t look near as welcoming after that hot kiss.

Nothing was the same anymore. Two years of listening to valley wives sigh about the pleasures of their shared marriage bed and she’d finally had a small taste of what they meant. A very, very, small taste.

“If Sam Gibson thinks he can kiss me until I almost swoon, then let his brother warn him off, I’ll be darned if I’ll feed either of them!”

No, she’d feed them because she’d promised. But nothing said it couldn’t be cold, unsalted gruel and bitter coffee! She kicked her boots off, sending them flying. She took off her plain day dress and hung it up beside her fancy dress and her old one, good only for chores like wash day. When she was stripped, she put her fingers where Max…no,
Sam
, had touched her. She was wet. Wetter than she’d thought possible.

She stood in the chilly room and looked down. She rarely looked at her body. Usually she was up and dressed, then a quick wash and sleep. Her breasts were a reasonable size and her nipples stuck out from arousal and the cold. Her belly had, unfortunately, never swelled with child. She had wide hips for bearing one, if she ever married again. She ran her hands over her breasts. Twin tingles ran to her pussy. Never had her nipples been this sensitive. Was it that she was standing up, taking her time? Or had that kiss awoken her body to something she’d only dreamed about?

“They have no idea what they’re missing,” she murmured.

She shivered with both heat and cold. She picked up her old nightgown and wrapper and covered herself. Max’s natural dominance could be interesting in the bedroom, but his arrogance would be intolerable anywhere else. She’d had only a hint of Sam’s touch, but she couldn’t wait for more.

“Both of them would make good lovers,” she mused.

She closed her eyes and thought of flashing eyes. Aroused, either man would be like a sleek predator. Silent, powerful, able to mount any woman he wanted. Would he press her against the wall, yank up her skirts, and fill her? Or would he strip her naked? Perhaps he would order her to slowly strip for him, each piece revealing a part of her as he watched with icy green eyes.

She wanted him to be masterful, erupting like lightning, yet hold her after the storm had passed. He’d need her softness to counter his strength. Her hands drifted to her breasts. He’d—She caught herself just in time. This was not the place to fantasize. She had a bed for that. A cold, lonely one.

“Sarah had the right idea,” she muttered. “A woman doesn’t need a man. A cat will warm your back, give you affection, and won’t talk back.” She thought for a moment, remembering Sarah’s obstinate cat, Oliver. “No, cats like to tell you what to do, just like men. But I can dump a cat outside when I’m fed up with him. And when it’s cold, he can warm my feet.” A vision of Sarah with her three husbands came into her mind. She laughed in spite of herself. “I doubt Oliver sleeps on the bed anymore. There’d be no room.”

A sound, somewhere between a scrape and a cough, caught her attention. She turned, but could see nothing.

“And a cat would catch mice,” she added. “Not that there’s any in
my
hotel.”

Leaving her wrapper on for now, she sank onto her bed. She’d tightened the ropes the other day and they creaked a complaint. Just once. A lonely sound for another lonely night. She automatically began pulling pins out of her hair. Her head didn’t ache, perhaps due to the looser braid.

She ran her fingers through the waves to find any last pins. One fell to the wood floor, making a pinging sound. Someday she’d have a rug beside her bed. Maybe, instead of a hard rag rug, she might even have a turkey carpet to sink her toes into.

Since she was dreaming, she might as well ask for a trio of handsome, wealthy princes to ride up on white horses and sweep her into a huge, warm bed. They’d buy a ranch nearby where they’d pamper her and treat her like a princess, waiting on her hand and foot.

No, that wasn’t what she really wanted. They would treat her as an equal partner most of the time. But now and then they would take control of her, forcing her to endure hours of pleasure. One hand went back to her breast. She fingered her hard nipple.

The men would be so strong that, though she fought back, they could overpower her. Maybe one would bend her over the back of an overstuffed chair. He’d hold her there, while another slowly lifted her dress. He’d expose her naked bottom as she fought to escape. He’d spank her for refusing to submit. Then while one held her, and one played with her breasts, pinching them like she was now doing, the third would shove her feet apart and force his hard cock deep inside her.

Her pussy throbbed, aching to be touched. Before she could lie down and hike up her nightgown, she had to find that last hairpin. Wearing her hair loose meant she’d already lost six.

She leaned forward to reach for the pin. Her fingertips were almost at the floor when a large, rough hand caught her wrist. She squeaked and tried to pull away, but strong fingers held her while more forced her palm open. Something cold, like a thin piece of wire, was placed in it.

“Shh, you’re safe. You dropped this.”

The deep whisper brushed past her fingers. A pair of lips followed with a gentle kiss. The man closed her fingers around her dropped pin. Her heart, after almost stopping in fright, pounded. Did she dare look down and see who it was?

“I knew your hair would be like this, Sophie,” said the deep, alluring voice. “So long and thick, I want to wrap it around my body.”

Sophie gathered her courage and looked. The lamp lit a familiar face. He rested on his haunches at her feet. Green eyes, sandy hair, and a saucy wink. The wink identified which twin had invaded her sanctuary. Her swollen tissues throbbed at the thought of him fulfilling her fantasy. She yanked her hand away, clutching her hairpin. She slumped for a moment before inhaling and glaring.

“You…you…” she sputtered, unable to think of the right word. “Did you watch me undress?”

“I wanted to,” replied Sam with a pout. He choked out a rusty laugh. “Lord knows I did. But I can be a gentleman. So I kept my eyes closed until I heard your bed creak.”

“So that was
you
I heard, not a mouse.” She narrowed her eyes. “Were you laughing at me?”

His smile made her heart flutter. “I was laughing, Sophie, but at the thought of Luke Frost and his partners kicking Sarah’s tomcat out of their bed. I’d never laugh at you.”

He leaned his head forward and set his lips on her knee, right through her nightgown. He blew warm air, which made her feel chilled elsewhere. Or perhaps the shivers weren’t from cold, but anticipation.

“
With
you, now, that’s a different matter,” he murmured.

His little-boy grin didn’t match the desire in his eyes. Her pussy flooded at what he might do. Was he only going to tease her? If so, he’d better get out now!

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I thought you had important business to discuss with your arrogant brother.”

Sam’s smile didn’t fade as he picked up her right foot. The heat of his large hands was immediate. Another type of heat shot up her calf and thigh to hit between her legs.

“I’m done with business. Now it’s time for pleasure.”

He pressed one thumb into the high arch of her captured foot. She winced at the slight pain even though it also shot a tingle through her. He leaned forward and kissed her toes, right where they joined her foot. Not a peck, but a long, thorough kiss that involved his warm tongue. Her pussy throbbed with jealousy.

“I thought you’d have sore feet, so I came down here to rub them,” he said. “It’ll hurt at first, but give me a moment and you’ll feel a lot better.” He followed the promise with a wide smile that proved only his left cheek had a dimple. He flexed her foot and continued working. After a few minutes it was more relaxing than painful.

“It does feel good,” she admitted, “but why are you doing this?” She wanted to add “instead of seducing me,” but didn’t want him to stop. If all she got massaged tonight was her feet, it was still a lot more than she’d had in far too long.

“Why? You once told Amelia MacDougal that the next man in your life must be good at foot massage.” Sam followed one of his sensual smiles with an equally alluring wink. “And other parts. You’ve been on your feet all day, so I’ll start here.”

“I told Amelia—?” She frowned, thinking. “That was last year.” She looked at the smirking man. He was tall enough that though he crouched, their faces were almost at the same level. “And who said I want you to be the next man in my life?”

“You did, when you returned my kiss.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering Sam’s touch. She’d thought the twins would go looking for clues, or whatever they did at night, and disappear before morning. They still might be gone by breakfast, but Sam was here now, touching her.

“Does Max know you’re here?”

His smile faded. “Why? Do you want him more than me? He’s so angry at you that his massage would be like this.” He stiffened his fingers and poked them into the ball of her foot. “Instead of this.”

He curled his finger between her big toe and the others. He slowly sawed back and forth, thrusting suggestively. She raised her eyes and discovered a knowing grin. His attentive eyes seemed to notice every expression, gasp, or involuntary movement.