[Ménage Amour: Erotic Rubenesque Cowboy Ménage a Quatre Romance, M/F/M/M, bondage, spanking, sex toys]
Kayla Roberts doesn't expect to land a man in her new town. She's used to being rejected due to her extra pounds and plain looks.
Grant Garner visits the feedstore more than ever since the new girl started working behind the counter. She's a real woman with depth of character, not to mention all those luscious curves. He can see a future with her, if only he can convince her she's worth his attention.
Ben and Austin are the black sheep of the town since they decided to switch to GE seed on their wheat farm. The only person who doesn't judge them is the quiet and darkly alluring Kayla Roberts.
Can ranchers on the opposite side of the wheat war make peace for the sake of love?
ADULT Teaser Excerpt
“She’s good with her mouth,” said Grant.
His encouragement moved her to suck harder, deeper. She wanted to please him, give him the same pleasure he’d given her. The lighting was minimal, and all she could make out was Grant’s ripped abs, so close to her face. She could smell his musk, feel his heat. Her own fire was burning between her legs.
Ben was merciless, not stopping or giving her a moment’s reprieve. If he continued, she’d burst into flames, and she really wanted to be fucked proper. Would they stop if she didn’t hold off?
Grant eventually slipped away, his cock still rigid. He stood beside the table and watched her, lightly stroking himself. By now her body was shaking, her legs weak as her orgasm surfaced.
“I’m so close,” she said. She was entering that euphoric phase where all sensations were magnified and perfect.
Ben’s goatee and chinstrap were scraping her flesh raw as he tugged her clit in deep pulls with his thick lips. One, two, three…and she came. Kayla let out a strangled moan, her hips rising up and her hands gripping the sides of the table as an anchor. She felt out of control, falling and spiraling as wave after wave crashed through her body.
Ben rose to his feet, shrugged off his plaid shirt, and then tugged off his white undershirt. He was tattooed, the black scrollwork on each arm and his lower stomach reminding her of something dangerous and forbidding. Why did the ink have a direct link to her hunger? She’d never seen many tattoos up close and personal. Grant didn’t have any that she’d seen, and neither did her brother. Looking at Ben awakened new, primitive desires within her. She wanted to lick those patterns all the way down to his cock. Kayla also wanted to know why and how he’d gotten them. She imagined each work of art had a story, and it intrigued the artist in her.
“You taste like honey, baby. I could live between your legs.” She could tell Ben meant every word, and it aroused her knowing she didn’t disgust him and that he would willingly bring her the same kind of pleasure again and again.
“Well I’ve been here long before you showed up. I’m only a man,” said Grant. The poor guy was displaying herculean control under the circumstances. “I need some pussy.” He scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her to the only other room in the small apartment.
Her bed was a twin. It was the same one she’d carted around the province since she was a teen. There was something essential about keeping familiar items with her on her journey. Her bed promised comfort and security in a relatively capricious lifestyle. At least she could sleep in peace, but now her mattress would hold a new meaning—one of hot, passionate sex with two men.
Grant lowered her down onto the soft bedding, so much better than the firm wood of the coffee table. No lights were turned on, only the very dim lighting from the partially opened door offering her shadowed images. “Please tell me you have lube, sweetheart.”
She did, but was embarrassed to admit it. What reason would a single woman have for keeping lube in her bedside table? Kayla rarely used it with her toys because they served her best when pressed to her clit for quick relief at night. But on occasion when she was particularly horny, she’d fuck herself with a lubed silicone phallus. The cold, lifeless toy was no substitute for the real thing, but she expected it was the best she’d ever get—until now.
“I might,” she said.
Grant opened the little drawer beside her bed as if he’d been in her apartment a thousand times. “You’re not as innocent as you appear, are you, baby doll?”
“It’s just hand cream.”
Ben chucked his pants and crawled up onto her bed, the mattress dipping, the springs protesting. He was a big boy. They both were. “Nothing to be ashamed of, baby. You know what you want, but you don’t need toys when you have the real thing. Anytime you feel hot and bothered, you give one of us a call.”