Double Dare (11 page)

“It's too late for that. Do you know what happens to bad girls who can't keep their hands to themselves?”

Quinn opened her mouth, but nothing came out, since she was picturing some options in her head. Some excited her; the others just scared her.

“Give me your hands.”

“Logan…” Her breath caught in her throat.

“Give. Me. Your. Hands.” His command was slower the second time, more forceful and in a much-lower tone. A tone that said,
Don't fuck with me.

She held out one hand. He shook his head.

“Both.”

She added the other one. Somewhat reluctantly.

“Put them together.”

She did, pinning her wrists together. He grasped them in one large hand, looped the belt around them, and tightened it. He pulled the free end up to the roof of the cab and slipped it through a hand grip there, tying the loose end into a secure knot. He tugged, testing it. Her arms were bound and stretched to shoulder height.

It wasn't uncomfortable. But it definitely put him back in control.

Just how he liked it.

He moved her off the seat, slid underneath her, and settled her back into his lap. Quinn's fingers wrapped around the leather.

“Now I can get my work done.”

Quinn saw no point in begging him to release her. He had a determined look about him, and he avoided her gaze when he pushed in the clutch, released the brake, and shoved the shifter into first gear with a little more force than was necessary. The tractor lugged forward, and soon he was back to his routine.

The silence stretched between them. Quinn rode on his lap, and Logan drove the tractor.

His confidence on how he lived his life and what he wanted and how he got it emanated from him. He was strength and power. And stubborn. That was becoming clear to Quinn quickly.

The realization she actually liked that in a man made her pause. Tyson was the larger man physically. But it was Logan who was the dominant in the relationship. And since she was only there for one weekend, she could deal with his taking control over her. It was only until Sunday. After this weekend, they might never see each other again.

Her brows furrowed, and she grimaced. She couldn't expect anything more. Just one weekend of fun and exploration. It was just a dare.

Logan turned the tractor onto a dirt track leading along the edges of surrounding fields. Some of the fields were Kentucky bluegrass, some zoysia, others a blend, or hybrids, as he called them, depending on the sod's intended use. He had told her other facts too, but there was too much to remember. She never would have guessed sod farming was so involved.

The tractor bumped over the rough path, jerking the belt against her wrists, reminding her of her restraint.

Sick of the silence, she said, “Am I being grounded or what?”

Logan finally grinned and gave her a quick glance. “It's called being punished.”

“Am I done being punished yet?”

“Have you learned your lesson yet?”

“You mean the lesson of not pulling your nipple ring when you're driving?”

He arched a brow. “Is that the lesson?”

She didn't know, was it? Quinn worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think so.”

“Since you don't know for sure, the punishment hasn't been effective enough. I think I require some help for the punishment.”

Help? What was he talking about?

The tractor lurched to a stop next to a beat-up, primer gray truck. Logan set the brake and shut down the machinery. He reached up and untied the leather knot from the hand grip, and when Quinn shoved her bound hands toward his chest, he shook his head.

“Not yet. Let's go.”

They climbed out of the cab, Logan helping her down, one hand gripping the belt like a leash.

As they approached a ditch, she realized Ty was there digging, while Magnum lounged between the farm truck and the dirt hole. The dog thumped his tail in greeting but didn't move out of the cool shade of the vehicle.

Ty was bare chested and had a blue bandanna wrapped over his head, soaked with sweat. His skin glistened like a sculpture made of obsidian. His muscles bunched and rippled as he swung a pickax over his head and into the hard ground. His jeans had slid down low with the exertion, barely catching on his hips; his dark blue boxer-briefs were the only thing covering the top of his butt cheeks. Even those were soaked in sweat.

Ty stopped swinging when they approached. Quinn didn't miss the glance he gave her bound wrists and the questioning look he shot Logan.

Logan just lifted one shoulder and said, “She needed a lesson.”

Ty accepted his statement as if it answered everything. And maybe it did. Maybe this wasn't an unusual occurrence for them. Maybe they had a different woman—or man, even—join them in sex play every weekend. What did Quinn know? She could be one of many.

The thought didn't sit well in her stomach.

Maybe she would get a text message on Monday stating
We've found someone new…

“How come you always get the cake job and I end up working my ass off?”

Logan peered down at Ty's cotton-covered ass. “It's still there.”

Ty picked up a clump of dirt and threw it at Logan. The clod exploded against his thigh into a cloud of dust. They both laughed companionably.

Ty extended his hand, and Logan grasped it, helping him out of the ditch.

“How's it coming?” Logan asked him.

“Slow. This irrigation system needs some improvement. Preferably replaced, if we had the money.”

“Yeah, I know. But we'll just have to fix what we have for now.”

Ty snagged his discarded T-shirt off the hood of the truck and wiped the sweat off his face. “That's what I'm doing.”

“I see.” Logan pulled the now-damp and dirty T-shirt out of Ty's hand and tossed it back onto the truck's hood. He wrapped one hand around the back of Ty's neck and pulled him into a deep, intimate kiss while Quinn just stood there, helplessly bound by a belt, feeling like a dog on a leash.

When they did stuff like that in front of her, she felt like she was intruding. Almost like a voyeur, peering into a neighbor's window as the couple made love.

She reminded herself she wasn't a part of their relationship. She was just a visitor.

Logan ran a hand down Ty's damp chest before tweaking one of his nipples, causing Ty to gasp. That ended the kiss, and they stood inches apart, looking into each other's eyes for a moment. She was jealous of the closeness and the passion they shared. These two men had more going for them than most married heterosexual couples she knew. No wonder the divorce rate was so high.

“You need to cool off,” Logan told Ty before planting another quick kiss on his lips and putting some room between them. He tugged on the belt, making the leather bite softly into her wrists.

Logan forced Quinn to follow him over to a water pump, only feet away from where Ty had dug the ditch. There was already a hose threaded onto the pump's spigot, and on the end of the hose, a garden-hose sprayer. He flipped up the pump handle and squeezed the sprayer's trigger, shooting water all over Ty.

Ty yelled and ran around to the back of the truck.

“That's fucking cold, Logan!”

“That's the point. C'mon. You need to rinse off as well as cool off. Don't be a wimp.”

Ty yelled, “Fuck you!”, but Quinn could see him, kicking off his boots, pulling off his jeans, peeling his damp boxer-briefs off, and throwing them all into the truck bed.

He came from around his shield and stood there gloriously naked in the hot sun. His skin and tattoos shone from a combination of sweat, sun, and the cool water Logan had squirted him with.

He spread his arms out and stood with feet wide apart. “Go ahead. I'm ready this time. Do your worst.”

Logan raised the hose up once more and sprayed water all over Ty. This time Ty laughed and rubbed the cold water over his head and face and chest. His hands moved over his belly down to his cock. “Don't mind the shrinkage. I'm cold.”

Shrinkage? Quinn noticed no shrinkage on the man. He was as magnificent a man when he was soft as he was when he was hard. Seeing him soft made her want to take him into her mouth. It would be the only time she could take him in completely; when he was hard, it was impossible. He was too much.

She came up short when she reached the end of the leather belt, not even realizing until that moment she had moved toward Ty.

Logan turned the hose on her. “Is T getting you all hot and bothered also?

Quinn gasped when the cold water hit her. Water went into her mouth, and she coughed. She shivered as he drenched her shirt and her jeans became a second skin.

Her nipples pebbled, and goose bumps broke out all over her body, which didn't go unnoticed from either of the men.

Ty reached out and said to Logan, “Let me have her.”

Logan threw the hose down and tugged her “leash” until she was close to Ty. He handed the end over to the larger man.

Quinn only hesitated a moment, then fell to her knees in front of Ty and took him into her mouth before either of them could stop her. If they even wanted to stop her.

She had never enjoyed giving a man oral sex before meeting these two, but now, she enjoyed it. Craved it. Wanted nothing more than to give Ty, and Logan, pleasure.

She took him deep, knowing his soft cock would soon be larger than she could handle. The skin was velvety soft and hair free. She wanted to cup his balls, but she was still restrained. She sucked him harder and felt him grow and harden. He tasted saltier as his precum leaked at the back of her throat. She relished him like she was a starved woman, one who had never had a man in her mouth before. She sucked him frantically, and finally he was so hard she could only get her lips, her mouth, around a portion of him. She licked the thick knob, capturing his precum on her tongue. She ran her tongue up and down the throbbing vein that ran along his length.

Hands dug into her hair, almost to the point of being painful…but not quite. She was forcefully pulled away from Ty's groin. It was Logan, standing with his jeans and boxer-briefs pooled around his knees. His cock bobbed at the same height as her face.

She looked up at him from on her knees in the wet dirt. His expression was pensive, a bit distant as he slipped his thumb between her lips. He pushed down, opening her mouth and holding her head in place by her hair. He pushed his cock in deep. Deep enough, the head bumped the back of her throat. She fought her gag reflex and forced herself to relax her muscles, swallowing him, her saliva slicking up his skin, making it easier for him to slide in and out between her lips.

Ty still had ahold of the belt, and Logan her hair. A thrill went through her. She felt as if she were a captive, her future unknown, her freedom and her life in their hands.

Ty moved closer to Logan, and they stood facing each other. One dark, one light. One clothed, one naked. Logan pulled his hips back, but her feeling of loss was short-lived as Ty entered her mouth again, thrusting his hips slightly, careful not to hurt her.

She stayed on her knees until they ached; her two temporary lovers took turns with her mouth, making her wet. Making her ache. Making her want them both deep inside her. At the same time.

After seconds, minutes, hours—she didn't know, she lost track—Quinn felt pressure on her wrists, and Logan pulled his cock out of her mouth.

He said to Ty, “Let's tie her down.”

“Where?” asked Ty.

“The hood?” Logan shook his head. “No, too hot.”

He looked around the site, his gaze bouncing off the exposed pipes, the water pump, and the tractor before landing back on the truck. He went to the passenger-side door of the truck, opened it, and motioned Ty over. Quinn had no choice but to follow as the belt tightened. Blood rushed through her veins, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

Logan took the loose end of the belt from Ty and placed it at the top of the doorjamb, pulling it until her arms were stretched above her head before effectively slamming it shut.

Quinn closed her eyes and attempted to slow her breathing. She should be panicked; she should be screaming for help. But she didn't want to. They hadn't hurt her yet; in fact, everything they had done in the past two days had been extremely pleasurable. She had no reason to distrust them. None.