Cowboy Sandwich
Authors: Reece Butler
COWBOY SANDWICH
Reece Butler
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
COWBOY SANDWICH
Copyright © 2009 by Reece Butler
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-478-1
First E-book Publication: June 2009
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2009 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
To Paul, Andy and David.
COWBOY SANDWICH
REECE BUTLER
Copyright © 2009
Bare arms crossed and booted feet wide, Adam Richardson surveyed the Mardi Gras crowd. Who’d a thought the hottest swing club north of Vegas was in Missoula, Montana!
Twenty picnic baskets donated by single women decorated the stage.
Fifty men held tickets to the charity auction: win the basket, seduce the lady.
After months without feminine companionship, failure was not an option.
“Beer.” Adam caught the can tossed by Bryan Raman, his ranch partner and long-time friend.
“About time.” Adam popped the top and gulped half. The fire below his belly still raged. “What took you so long?”
“Jawing about the unwritten rules. Heads up.” Bryan gestured with his beer to an approaching naughty schoolgirl. She wore a tiny kilt with matching school tie. No shirt hid her thirty-eight specials.
“She can shoot me anytime,” said Adam, making sure to catch her eye. She smiled at his open appreciation as she jiggled past.
They sighed and took a moment to finish their beers. A harem girl and witch sauntered past on their way to the bar. Adam touched his finger to his Stetson. Never hurt to be nice to ladies. Especially when they might ease his three-month ache.
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After they made dual rim shots off the garbage can with their crumpled cans, Bryan pulled two envelopes out of his back pocket.
He handed one to Adam and opened the other. All that money for a badge on a string?
“Number twenty-four,” said Bryan. “What’s yours?”
“Twenty-five. When’s the auction?”
“Couple of hours.” Bryan shook his envelope. “There’s something else in here.” He held up a piece of paper. “It says, ‘A hint for you.’”
He shrugged at Adam and read out loud. “Basket two might be for you. Polly and Prue, identical twins, are high maintenance and proud of it. They stay as a pair, double or nothing…”
“One for each of us.”
“…but don’t bid unless you’ve got lots of bling.”
“Bling?” Adam screwed up his face. “What the hell’s that?”
“If you ever read a magazine or watched TV you might know.”
“And when would I have time for that?” Adam ignored the Dominatrix checking him out as she strolled by. “While cooking, cleaning or doing the laundry after working all day? Huh?”
“What’s your point? I’ve been telling you to hire a housekeeper for years. But, no, you don’t want a strange woman in the house.”
“The only ones who’ll work that far out want to marry the ranch,”
said Adam. “Not both of us.”
Bryan nodded absently, attention caught by a tiger-striped woman waiting at the bar. Did she only wear paint? Without a number showing her availability, he couldn’t do much but look from a distance. He turned back to Adam. “Bling means expensive, in-your-face jewelry. Clunky gold necklaces with lots of diamonds, that sort of thing.”
“Jeez, I don’t want a woman like that.”
“Just as well. It’s too late anyway.” Bryan shook his head, crumpled the paper and tossed it. “Saw them snuggling with Colonel Sanders at the bar. White suit with hundred dollar bills pinned all over it. What’s yours say?”
8
Reece Butler
“Number seven is a cowgirl eager to experience her first orgasm.
Born and raised out East, Candy thinks sex is boring.”
“Damn, I love a challenge.” Bryan rubbed his palms, grin wide.
“Shut up and let me read.” Adam tilted the paper to get more light.
“She brought her fantasies to the Wild West, hoping to meet a rough, tough cowboy. If she’s ‘forced’ to release her passion she might find the release she craves. Think you’re up to it?”
“I’ve been ‘up’ since we left the hotel,” grumbled Bryan. He attempted to rearrange himself, but the black biker leathers held him snug in their grip.
“Shut up and look for a cowgirl wearing a number seven.”
At well over six feet, when they stood back to back they could see over most heads. They scanned the room with eyes trained to pick out a sick calf miles away.
“Bingo,” said Adam, tilting his head toward the dance floor.
“Lucky Seven’s by the pole. First in line. Short, with dark hair.”
Black lights made her white shirt, skirt and boots shine like a homing beacon. She danced in place as she waited her turn, twisting her hips so fast her short skirt flew up. A thin white line divided sweet cheeks that begged for his hand. Oblivious to everything but the music, she drove her hips forward in time with the beat as if matching every thrust of his cock. She opened a laughing mouth wide enough to take him deep....
Shit!
Adam turned away before he disgraced himself. That hadn’t happened since ninth grade when he discovered Billy Smith standing under the bleachers with Pammie kneeling in front of him, head bobbing like a pigeon. Two weeks later he was the one groaning as she practiced her impression of Deep Throat.
Candy had passion, all right. He imagined her writhing under him.
Or bent over a chair. Against the wall of the shower....
“Hot day-am!” crooned Bryan. “I bet we give her a dozen orgasms by morning.”
“Wonder what’s in her basket.”
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9
“With a body like that, who cares?”
Adam curled his lip in a wry grin. He couldn’t wait to release the sexually frustrated woman inside that wildcat. To show her all the ways men could pleasure a woman.
“Time for a couple of rough, tough cowboys to stake their claim,”
said Adam.
“We go together and bid the whole enchilada on her, deal?”
Adam nodded. “It all goes to help our veterans and their families.”
“Woo-hoo,” said Bryan. “Cowboy sandwich tonight.”
10
Reece Butler
For once in her life, Candice Stevenson didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought. No more dutiful daughter or mousy wife. No, tonight a sexy wildcat roared, eager to get her claws into a hot man. A man to make her ache with lust then scratch her itch. An itch she’d just discovered.
Her skirt barely covered her butt, her bra held her up but left nipples peeking. The vee of her shirt went so low she’d be brushing crumbs out of her cleavage after dinner.
Her best friend, Sue, got it right. Time to find a man who turned her on and cared about
her
pleasure. One night to prove there wasn’t anything wrong with her sexually. She needed a hot cowboy to fulfill her dark fantasies. A strong, hard man who’d make her hot and wet.
Nothing like Dan, her boring cube-dude ex-husband.
She clenched her thighs, feeling the fantasy, thrusting her hips in time to the beat.
He stared down at her with dark eyes. She squeaked when he slid
his hand under her skirt. A moan escaped when he ripped off her
panties with one hand. He was so strong, she couldn’t escape. Kissing
her to stop any protest, he pressed her back against the wall. The
brick chilled her back but his hands burned. He lifted her thighs,
spreading her wide. He teased her for a moment, rubbing his cock
against her special spot. He made her writhe, begging for more of
what only he could give.
With one slow thrust he slid deep, her swollen tissues stretching to
take all of him. She thought of nothing but the intensity of his touch.
His tongue invaded her lips as his large hands grasped her ass. She
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11
whimpered when he slid out. Then he thrust hard, again and again,
until…
“You’re next.”
“Wha…?” Heart pounding, Candy stumbled in the unfamiliar cowboy boots. Someone grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.
“Your turn for the pole.” A large woman in black leather gripped Candy’s arm. She gave a quick jerk with her head toward the pole.
“Dance like that and you’ll score high bids at the auction.” She winked, smacked her thigh-high stiletto boots with a riding crop and turned away.
Ignoring her pounding heart, Candy reached over her shoulder and checked that the large number seven still decorated the back of her shirt. She ached high between her thighs, needing a man for once in her life. Only an hour or so until her picnic basket went to auction.
And, depending on who bought it, she’d share dinner with the winner and say goodbye or spend the night doing wicked things.
The molasses slow beat of
Black Velvet
, her favorite stripper song, oozed out of the speakers
.
Perfect for seduction. She claimed the pole with one hand, the other on her hip. She strutted in a slow circle, just like at stripaerobics class.
A tall man in a cowboy hat stood in front of her, staring as if he wanted to devour her. His broad chest and arms seemed dark compared to his white vest, bowtie and cuffs. She shivered under the hot lights, almost stumbling as a jolt of lust shot to her core.