The Obedient Servant [Going for the Gold 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (24 page)

He was lucky that his study door banged open then. Milo raised his torso and craned his head with mild curiosity. He was never embarrassed to be seen in flagrante delicto. But this proved to be an exception.

* * * *

Tallulah Stefanski opened her husband’s study door with her butt.

She held a bowl of apples from Mayor Stefanski’s grove, and she wanted him to try one. This week they were much sweeter than last week. He’d bought the grove from Don Victor Prudhon, of course—they couldn’t plant new fruit trees until next February. She dropped the bowl to the floor at the sight that greeted her.

Her two men rutting wouldn’t have shocked her. What stunned Tallulah was the sight of the defenseless mayor flat on his back on his desk, nearly nude, his thighs splayed wide. With one foot balancing him on the edge of the desk, he pumped his hips wildly, the better for Reynaldo, kneeling on the floor, to guzzle his fat cock down his throat. With his bound hands flung against the desk over his head, the magnetic and fearsome Milosz Stefanski had finally been subdued.

She knew her husband was a beast, but this beat all! She could testify to all manner of animalistic behavior in these two men. But she had never…ever…seen her beloved husband allow Reynaldo to take him in that manner. How glorious he looked with his shoulder-length hair all spread out behind him, his knotted wrists up over his head!

Tallulah didn’t pause to gather the rolling apples. In her haste, she even stepped on one and nearly went flying into the wall. But she only missed a half a beat, closing the distance between the door and the desk in three long strides.

She flung herself down next to Milo, sweeping all his papers, half-eaten fruit, writing instruments, and surveying tools aside with her forearm. Pressing her chest to his naked one, she whispered, “Dearest…just relax…let yourself be pleasured…allow Reynaldo to satisfy you with his mouth.”

But she made an error in bringing Milo’s attention to it. If she would have just kept quiet, shut up, faded into the wallpaper! By talking, she had drawn Milo’s attention to the fact that his lover sat between his thighs eagerly guzzling his dick. That was her mistake. And her deviant, sensual husband made her pay dearly for it.

“I will
not!
” Wrenching himself to his feet, Milo knocked Reynaldo to his ass. Before Tallulah could absorb the situation, Milo had succeeded with his tied hands in grasping her wrist and pinning her with his body against the desk. His beautiful aqua eyes glittered, and Tallulah knew his ire was all part of his sexual act, the way her willful and domineering husband enjoyed toying with her. “I’m hot and randy for my wife,” he explained, a bit more patiently now.

Tallulah could feel her face and chest flush with blood. She leaned back so her bosom was proffered to this beast of a man, and she took the liberty of inching her Californio skirts above her knees. He always made her feel so coquettish, so womanly. Although she was disappointed she wouldn’t get to watch Reynaldo bring him off with his mouth, the press of Milo’s nude, athletic body already had juice trickling down her inner thigh.

She wrapped her fingers around his exquisitely hot prick. Hopping her ass onto the desk, she spread her thighs for her husband.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised with shining eyes as he slid into her.

He embraced her with his bound hands, circling both wrists over her head, bringing them down behind her back. She didn’t think he needed to be so careful of the baby growing inside of her. Would babies break if a well-hung man got a bit carried away and pounded her a bit too hard? Tallulah had a feeling they were a lot more resilient than that, but she let Milo withhold his passion a bit for little Delfina’s sake. That was the name they’d chosen if it was a girl. That was Milo’s mother’s name, back in New York.

“Hey,” said Reynaldo, from somewhere over Milo’s shoulder. “I can still participate, you know.”

Tallulah could tell by the way Milo squeezed his eyes shut and hissed in air that Reynaldo had penetrated him. It excited her to be fucked by Milo while Reynaldo was bumfucking him. Every time Reynaldo pulled out and stroked back inside Milo, Milo moved inside her, too, his penis pulsing, juicy, plump with seed. Milo had consented to allow Reynaldo to fuck Tillie without a sheath once his fatherhood had been established. After the baby arrived, it was Milo’s turn to roll on a sheath until Reynaldo was assured of fatherhood. Taking turns this way, they could always be sure who the father was.

“There,” grunted Reynaldo, thrusting deeper inside his lover. “Take my long, fat cock up your ass. You like that, don’t you?”

“
Dios mío
,” sighed Milo, corkscrewing his hips to plunge deeper inside his wife. She could tell this was his version of holding back—the vigorous beast of a man was fairly shuddering with unspent lust. A drip of sweat rolled down his beautiful hawk’s nose. “
Ni se te ocurra
parar
.”
Don’t ever stop.
Citizens of Sonoma, especially its mayor, were supposed to make an effort to speak English. But because big, bold Milo was shy when it came to emotion, he sometimes felt safer speaking Spanish or Polish. “
Se siente tan bien
.
”
It feels so good.

The men’s combined thrusts had moved the desk a few inches across the floor. Tallulah clung to her husband’s neck as objects jiggled their way to the edge of the desk then toppled over. A coffee cup. An unlit candle. A brass theodolite waltzed its way to the cliff and paused as if wondering whether to leap. It did, luckily onto the Persian rug.

Tallulah had no fear of speaking plainly. “I love you, Milo,” she whispered against his mouth.

He hesitated before responding, giving her a few more good strokes. “I love you, wife,” he gasped before ejaculating explosively deep inside her, up near her womb.

He held himself there for a long minute, gasping and shuddering. The drip of sweat flicked off the tip of his nose as he trembled, his cock pulsing as his semen splashed against her cervix. She was wide open for him, one thigh twined around his hip as she clenched her inner pussy around his cock, milking him.

Reynaldo must have been coming, too, his mushroom cockhead tickling the responsive spot deep inside Milo’s anus. Reynaldo grunted and shuddered, too, as he filled Milo with his jism—by stretching her arm, Tallulah could feel the hot seed trickle down Milo’s thigh. They both groaned deeply with satisfaction, like bison wallowing in the mud, undulating their limbs with pleasure, gyrating their hips out of sheer satisfaction.

When she realized she had her palm smashed into a puddle of ink, she slithered out from the weight of the two men and went down the hallway to the bathroom to wash. She brought a wet rag back with her to tidy up Milo’s desk. Reynaldo had arranged himself properly, but Milo was just shrugging into his shirt, and Tallulah came up behind him to suck on the side of his neck and pinch his nipple.

“
Kobieta
,” Milo murmured.
Woman.
She loved it when he spoke Polish.

“You men,” Tallulah said, moving to the desk to wipe up some ink. “I take my eye off you for one moment and you’re pleasuring
each other
.” She put emphasis on the last words, flicking a meaningful glance at Reynaldo.

Reynaldo casually poured a glass of
aguardiente
. He obviously caught Tallulah’s meaning. “I
tried
to pleasure this stubborn brute. He wouldn’t let me. Besides, you know how much I love you, Tillie.”

Tillie shot Reynaldo a sultry look, mouthing, “I love you, too.”

Milo buttoned his shirt, and Tallulah could see a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I needed to save myself for Tillie.”

She cried, “How did you know I was about to walk in that door? You didn’t!”

At this, Milo tried to change the subject. “Yes, you were bringing apples,” he said, stooping to pick up a couple.

Reynaldo didn’t want to change the subject. “He’s getting better at allowing pleasure. I swear, one day soon I will sneak up on him and suck him until he comes.”

Tallulah nodded crisply. “Good. He needs to learn to relax.”

“I’m standing right here,” Milo reminded them.

The front door slammed shut then, and all eyes swiveled toward the study door. Milo slung his necktie around his collar and started knotting it. Origin Oakley burst in, his hands stained to the wrists a deep purple, holding a glass.

“You must try this, boss!” he declared. “It is by far the best batch ever!” By “boss,” this time he meant Milo, and he shoved the glass at him. “This is the stuff we put into kegs last year, and it is getting better every day!”

Milo frowned as he finished knotting a sloppy necktie. “You don’t have to
taste
it every day,” he noted, but he took the glass from Origin. Sipping, he instantly spewed. Tallulah swiped the glass from his hand as he blotted his mouth with a handkerchief. “That’s
horrible
, Origin!”

Reynaldo grinned. “I told you.”

Origin protested, “But it is
much
better than it was last week! It is getting a certain fullness, a certain
bloom
that fills the mouth with gladness!”

“Well,” said Milo. “It might fill the drinker with gladness if he can manage to keep an entire glass down in his stomach. I think it must wait another year.”

“Yes,” agreed Reynaldo. “Red wine must ferment at least two years. There is a barrel they put up two years ago that is much better, but unfortunately it’s almost all gone.”

Origin admitted, “No one wants to wait long enough for it to turn good enough for Reynaldo’s liking.”

“This new stuff is too sour,” said Reynaldo. “If everyone waited just one year and let the wine age, there would be a constant supply, as long as we rationed it.”

“It has fullness!” cried Origin. “It has just a hint, a bouquet of a rose bush!”

Reynaldo said, “Maybe because the vineyard is right next to the rose garden.”

“I also taste and smell berries and chocolate! This wine will rival the finest of Bordeaux. See?” Origin gulped the rest of Milo’s glass and smacked his lips. “See? I do not gag and choke.”

“Because you’re accustomed to forty-rod and
schiedam
,” said Reynaldo.

“I will try stomping with my feet,” said Origin, “like they do in France.”

Tallulah and Milo drifted to one of the windows while the vintners argued. Milo had built the new hacienda a half mile north up Spain Street, after convincing Vallejo to sell him a couple of leagues of land to plant new fruit trees and vegetables. She still owned and ran the Blue Wing Inn but had so much assistance she did not have to practically live there anymore. Builders had connected her little former house to the inn, giving them another set of rooms to rent out.

This window overlooked a small garden Tallulah had planted for their own personal use, and she always enjoyed looking at the rows of freshly sprouted lettuce, onions, and chard. The bounty brought to her mind the bounty of her own life. Women were lucky to find just one husband who would be faithful, a good provider, and stimulating in the bedroom—or anywhere else, for that matter. But Tallulah had succeeded in finding
two
husbands of that caliber, and she knew she was the most blessed of all women.

She put her chin on Milo’s shoulder. “So you have not quite allowed yourself to become Reynaldo’s obedient servant?”

“Not yet,” Milo said softly. “But I’m getting there.”

Tallulah knew he would get there soon. It wasn’t easy surrendering and trusting another. But opening up to another was its own reward. Tallulah’s life was far richer for having done so.

THE END

WWW.KARENMERCURY.COM

Some of the patriotic words I had my character Milo Stephens utter were really said by William B. Ide, who was with the Grigsby-Ide party that arrived at Sutter’s Fort in October 1845. About the infamous flag, Comandante Vallejo wrote, “The bear was so badly painted, however, that it looked more like a pig than a bear.” The William Todd who was the bad artist was the nephew of Mary Todd Lincoln.

The Bear Flaggers were never able to find the murderers of Cowie and Fowler, but within a few years most of the killers were dead anyway. Bernardo Garcia joined up with Joaquin Murrieta and was shot and killed when Captain Harry Love ambushed them in 1853. Garcia’s hand and Murrieta’s head were preserved in jars of alcohol and sent on a morbid tour to be gawked at for the price of admission. Ramon Carrillo was shot by vigilantes near Los Angeles in 1864.

Frémont paid the price for ordering the killing of Berryessa and the DeHaro twins. The Pathfinder, the first anti-slavery candidate, was defeated by James Buchanan for the Presidency in 1856 a month after Jasper O’Farrell published his revelations about the Berryessa murders. It was commonly known that the Berryessa incident played a major role in ruining Frémont’s political aspirations.

Kit Carson told O’Farrell that he regretted killing the men, but it was the only time Frémont had ever made such an order.

Karen’s first three novels were historical fiction involving pre-colonial African explorers. Since she was always either accused or praised (depending on how you look at it) for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step. She is currently writing about the rough-and-tumble life of the transcontinental railroad in Wyoming, and lives in Northern California with her Newfoundland dog.

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