Cowboy Boots and Unadulterated Pleasures [Cowboy Boots 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (20 page)

With Brand’s cock down her throat again, she shook her head in vehement denial. Brand’s hands fell to either side of her head and he thrust inside her mouth.

“Better slow down and wait for everyone to enjoy themselves,” Kemper warned him.

Her suction loosened and Brand slipped from her lips, observing her with heated eyes as Kemper worked with her bottom, stretching and preparing her with the cold, slick stone. Toying with his cock, Kemper teased her by rubbing his length against her leg.

Her juices gathered at her folds. The fiery heat building between them stirred her senses, lit a true fuse to her arousal. At this rate, she wouldn’t last. She couldn’t last.

Taking him by surprise, she turned to Kemper. Gripping his hard shaft, she licked the cockhead, sipping at the speckle of excitement topping the crest. Slowly, she drew him between her cheeks before suckling his length. All the while, she kept Brand in hand, pumping him as she tantalized the man preparing to fuck her. Realizing a good blow might ruin the whole show, she kept her aggression to a minimum, giving Kemper a preamble to what she hoped would soon develop into much more.

Kemper seemingly let her have her way. He stroked her cheek tenderly as she sucked his cock. Arching a brow, he looked pleased when she looped her tongue around his crest and pulled his cock across her tongue, drawing him to the back of her throat and humming against his size.

When she finally released him, she hesitated before she let him go. Gripping him with a firm hand, she pulled his size with kneading fingers. Her eyes were heavy, but she remained focused and committed to her cause.

Leaving her with a gentle kiss upon her lips, he said, “You got it, Miss Submissive. I know what you need.”

Then as if she’d spoken a dozen or two requests, he twisted the butt plug inside her, thrusting higher, releasing the toy and then returning to stretch her once more. At the same time, she gave Brand head, going at his cock as if she had nothing better to do until the day after tomorrow.

Greed and hunger overpowered her as her pussy wept for attention, the need driving her to make another request. “May I finger myself, Sir?”

“You may, Miss Submissive.” Kemper’s reply was guttural and masculine.

He dropped the toy next to her ankle and held her against his groin. “You like what you feel, Miss Submissive?”

His length stretched forward. His pulsing head parted her globes.

“Yes, Sir. Very much,” she assured him, her fingers searching. Her wet channel pulsed around her probing digits, but she longed for more. She wouldn’t come like this. She longed for a more fulfilling penetration.

Brand’s hand fell to her head and she watched him. Locked in a gaze of understanding, she saw his hurt, recognized his pain, and accepted it as her own.

Her father had loved Brand like a son. At one time, Brand had considered him his father figure. Now, Brand was just as lost and just as lonely, but they could comfort one another. They could accept their loss and find a way to move on by loving hard and sharing these coveted times as if they’d never have another.

Gasping with the thought, she dipped her head again and drew his thick head into the depths of her mouth. Was there a more significant meaning here? Did these men understand her fears? Did they worry, because of her father’s betrayal, that they might forfeit their chances of a secure future and an opportunity for happiness?

Brand’s eyes darkened. He shifted his weight and sank inside her mouth. This time, he rolled his hips forward and thrashed against her.

Gripping the soap dish, Brand hollered out as his release shot across her tongue. Behind her, Kemper growled. A deep and masculine sound erupted from his body as he pushed the weight of his cock between her globes.

At the same time, she stuffed another digit inside her pussy, reaching higher, longing for relief. She fingered herself with fluttering strokes while Kemper found his place and struck out with a thumping beat.

Erotic sounds filled the room. She slurped Brand’s sticky masculine spill, forcing her twitching middle finger deep inside her cunt.

“Come!” Kemper demanded, slamming his cock deep inside her passage.

She hummed as shards of pleasure rolled over her body, sensitizing her fragile nerve endings. Brand watched her with hungry eyes as her body undulated, swaying from side to side.

Her release moistened her fingers and she wobbled on her knees, losing all control as her orgasm left her spent and barely able to catch her breath.

Kemper seized the opportunity and made the moment his. He clutched her hips and threw himself into the final round of satisfying passion. And when he came, “Miss Submissive” wasn’t on his lips. Instead, he, too, had cried out her name.

As soon as Kemper delivered her to the bedroom, she detected the tension. Something had gone terribly wrong and apparently, they’d only just received the news.

“We have to get out of here,” Colt told her, ripping open a brown package and tossing her some camouflage clothes.

Kemper wrapped a white towel around his neck, gripping each end and flexing his muscles. He shot Colt a quick grin, one of those ego smirks women hate and men love when they’re sharing an inside secret with a buddy.

“Don’t get too cocky, Kemper,” Crue warned him. “We should’ve interrupted you. Colt thought…”

Colt sneered. “I thought nothing, but now is a different story. We’re out of time. We’ve gotta roll.”

Grabbing Kelly by the hand, Colt turned to the others. “As soon as you hit ground, split up. Use the Unit’s private e-mail account and draft—do not send—an e-mail to let us know what time you reach the shadows’ suite or any other location nearby. We’ll all meet there as soon as possible. Go straight to the casino and wait if you can make it that far. Don’t order room service. The food might not be fit to eat. Don’t trust any staff member. We don’t know who works for Lorenzo at this point.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, turning on him sharply and yanking her hand away from his.

“I’ll explain on the way.”

“And I’m not going with you,” she stated flatly.

He sniffed, obviously pissed. “Well, sweet thing, you don’t have a lot of options at the moment.”

“Yes I do,” she said, swinging her gaze to Crue. “I’ll go with him. He’s the one who looks prepared to walk out of here right now and I have things to do.”

“You’d better add me to the top of that list, muffin,” he said, obviously taunting her. “Because after we kiss and makeup, I plan to spend a lot of time in your bed.”

“You won’t be playing in my jungle anytime soon, tiger,” she drawled, inspiring muffled and amused reactions from the others. “That is, until you call Donovan and tell him you made an error in judgment.”

The entire room fell quiet.

Colt sneered. “Kelly, we really don’t have time for this right now.”

“Then send me out with Crue.”

“Fine.”

“How do you want everyone to travel?” Kemper asked, gaining Colt’s attention. “It’s a long walk across the desert. If we don’t stay together, somebody will be left without wheels.”

Colt rubbed his jaw. “On second thought, split up until you reach the SUVs and stay close thereafter.” He eyed Kelly and the objection he’d heard earlier flooded his mind. Turning to Crue, he said, “I meant to take the bikes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea now all things considered.”

Kelly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I can ride, Colt.”

Crue placed his open palm against the small of her back after she’d dressed. “Arguing with him now isn’t a good idea.”

Colt dug in his pocket for two sets of keys as he watched Kelly follow Crue to the other room. She felt his anger, but she was equally furious. He was right about a few things. When they kissed and made up, they’d spend some time in the bedroom, but he was wrong to assume she’d easily forgive and forget. He’d have to work for it and she expected him to call Brock and set the record straight.

Standing a few feet behind her, Brand said, “You made the right choice, Colt. If Lorenzo’s men are already on their way out here, we could meet trouble before we make it back to the Strip. Crue won’t let anything happen to her.”

“He’d better not,” Colt said, tossing one set of bike keys to Kemper and another to Brand. “Gabe, take Daniel’s vehicle. Guys, good luck. We’ll see you when we see you.”

Kemper snatched the keys and tossed them to the bed. Reaching for his clothes, he said, “Colt, you’re too tense. Let this thing go with Kelly. You can settle it in a few hours when we get back to the hotel.”

“It’ll be settled all right,” he assured him.

“Give her time, Colt. She’s had a rough day.”

“We all have,” he said, his eyes meeting hers before she started up the ladder. “But she knows I only had her best interest at heart.”

* * * *

Kelly possessed a mean gut. When her stomach turned somersaults, she had a keen eye open, but when the prickling sensation started tormenting her skin, she became better than a twenty-four-hour security system blinking with “armed and alert” notifications.

As she and Crue hunkered down outside the bunker they’d just abandoned, she clutched his leather jacket. “I feel like someone is watching me.”

“You always feel like someone is watching you,” he whispered, turning to look over his shoulder. Even with his light brown hair, he looked dark and dangerous, mean enough to rattle a snake. “When Gabe and I shadowed you, I can’t tell you how many times I heard you say those very words.”

The significance behind what he’d just said must’ve struck him in the face about the time she heard the crunching of pebbles underneath several heavy footsteps. “Look out!” she screamed, diving for his body as a wielded sledgehammer slammed into the tree beside them.

Swirling around to face his attacker with a pistol drawn, Crue slung his arm behind him, latching on to her waist in an effort to move her out of harm’s way. A man lunged at them, the jagged blade clearly defined as the outdoor spotlights made for excellent visibility.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The gunfire rang out around them and their attacker stumbled before falling to the ground. Dead eyes stared up at them. Cold and empty, the gaze held nothing at all, not even the fear of an imminent death, the timely demise the perpetrator had asked for by name.

Gasping, she stilled next to Crue as he grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I’ve got you, Kelly.”

“I’m not afraid,” she bit out.

“You sure about that?” he asked, glancing around as he spoke. He was in combat mode and everything about his presence screamed hard male operative. “You look as if you’ve never seen a dead man.”

A sudden image of her father’s mutilated form entered her mind’s eye, and while she realized Crue hadn’t meant to sound crass and he most definitely hadn’t meant to hurt her with his inconsiderate words, she wheeled around and yelled, “Yes, Crue. I’ve seen dead men and plenty of them. I’ve been there with my father and watched as he counted many bodies, tallied the loss while profusely apologizing for working in my presence.

“A trip to Venezuela comes to mind. And Mexico. Oh, and let’s not forget the more recent of all events in years past. The gruesome image that will forever be embedded in my mind’s eye! My father lying on the floor with his brains splattered next to him!”

Crue looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “Kelly, I’m sorry. It was insensitive and I apologize.”

Crue’s apology was one for her back. Before he finished making excuses, which pissed her off since they were issued out of pity, she darted up the hill. She wanted to be left alone. “I’ll meet you at the driveway!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her tantrum would potentially be a mistake that would cost them all. She took her last conscious breath as a cloth soaked in chloroform covered her mouth and nose.

One week later

Crue sat in the darkness staring out over the Las Vegas skyline. Millions of lights twinkled back at him, taunting him with the glitz and glamour of a city built on its promise of entertainment, but beneath that oath was a more sinister city, a dark side that called out to the criminal mind.

“Where are you, Kelly?” he asked softly, trying to ignore his reflection in the window. Since Kelly’s abduction, they’d been taking shifts. One of them would sleep while another would work the shadow’s post, monitoring the casino for strange activity or a possible Lorenzo or Kelly sighting. They’d make the occasional call to a nearby casino and follow up on a sporadic lead, one Lorenzo likely planted to keep them running into barricaded walls or impossible dead ends.

After Kelly’s abduction, Crue and Colt had remained at the ranch, rummaging through Daniel’s old files, hoping to find something to tip them off and help them better understand their enemy. For Crue, that had been one of the more excruciating tasks. As they’d worked side by side, the tension had been in the air. Colt blamed him because Kelly went missing.

And he should’ve been blamed. She had been his responsibility and she’d slipped through his fingers like sand in the desert.

They couldn’t be sure if Lorenzo knew Kelly’s father was dead. According to their recent intel, Lorenzo had a reputation of being a greedy thief, among his list of many other unsavory attributes.

The nights following her abduction, they’d waited for an intruder, expecting an invasion. In the end, staying at the ranch was a lost cause. They’d returned to the Strip, which was where they’d remained, sitting by the phone, pacing, and on their most desperate nights, pointing fingers at one another, playing the blame game.

Most of the time, Crue just crooked his finger back at himself. Self-loathing had become quite easy. He couldn’t bear to think of the torture his beautiful Kelly had been forced to endure and that was only if Lorenzo had let her live. Since the casino’s holdings appeared untouched, intelligence suggested she was still alive.

Lorenzo wanted his money. He couldn’t obtain what he wanted if Kelly was in the morgue.