Dark Desire in Elk's Crossing [Sequel to Ecstasy in Elk's Crossing] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

A blonde woman with pinned-up hair, subtle makeup, and a delicately turned ankle stepped out next. Even from fifty feet away, Joshua could tell that the closer he got to her, the better looking he’d find her.

The pilot got out and walked around the rear of the plane. He gave Joshua a wave.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Joshua called out, above the sound of the engine idling. “I’ll take care of their luggage. Put the plane away. We won’t be needing it for at least a couple days.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Joshua stepped forward, a genuine smile on his lips, his right hand extended. He had already spent several hours on the telephone with his two newest guests, though this was the first time they’d been face-to-face.

“Sven, it’s good to finally be able to put a face to the voice,” Joshua said, shaking the man’s hand.

It was a partial lie. Once there had been the possibility of going into business with Sven, Joshua had done a thorough search of the Norwegian’s background. He’d already seen a hundred pictures of Sven, and his associates.

“It is good to meet you, my friend,” Sven said, his English coming out a bit stilted.

Joshua watched as the big Norwegian glanced at Annika, as though silently asking her if he had pronounced the words properly in English or if he’d said anything embarrassing. She gave him a smile, and Sven smiled in apparent relief.

“And you must be Annika,” Joshua said, extending his hand.

When his fingers curled around Annika’s small hand, she chuckled softly. “I’m trusting you to let me have that hand back in the same condition it was given to you.”

Joshua’s handshake was firm enough to not be condescending to a woman, but no so forceful he’d hurt her. At six foot one and weighing in at an even two hundred pounds of more or less solid muscle and bone, Joshua knew how to be careful with his strength, especially where a woman was concerned.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming here in person instead of sending your people,” Joshua said as he picked up Annika’s suitcase by the handle. “I’m sure after all that traveling, you’re exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. Let’s go back to the ranch where you can freshen up. We won’t talk a bit of business until tomorrow morning, when everyone’s refreshed.”

He liked the way Annika sighed with relief because it caused her breasts to rise and fall, trembling slightly inside her brassiere and blouse.

Easy, cowboy. She’s another man’s associate and maybe his lover. Never mix business with pleasure.

Joshua and Sven deposited all the luggage into the rear compartment of the Yukon, then Joshua opened the rear door for Annika. As she stepped up into the big SUV, the hem of her skirt rode high enough to show off part of a deliciously tapering thigh, and when she sat, her breasts again swayed tautly. Joshua caught the faintest hint of a delicate perfume that drew the attention but didn’t overpower.

As Sven got into the passenger side in the front, Joshua walked around the vehicle, hoping like hell he wouldn’t get an erection while driving back to the Sitting Mule Ranch.

* * * *

Annika sat in the guest bedroom, looking around at the amenities. It was clear to her that the big ranch house was a working ranch, something never meant to be a quasi-hotel or bed-and-breakfast, but she couldn’t in the least fault the comfort she felt. The furniture was wood and leather, solid pieces meant to support and give comfort to sensible people who had worked all day in the barn, or in the fields, or in the kitchen. To her Scandinavian sensibilities, everything was oversized in an ostentatious manner, though she felt certain that when this part of the ranch house was built, the room was considered only what was essential, and nothing more.

I’ve always imagined that this is what it would be like in Texas, not North Dakota.

The bureau was made of cherrywood, and unless Annika was very much wrong in her assessment of its age and craftsmanship, it was handmade, several generations old, and made by a man who knew his business. She could picture one of Joshua’s relatives, or one of the cowboys working at the Sitting Mule Ranch, building the large, four-drawer bureau, perhaps in celebration of a newborn arrival.

Standing at the side of the king-sized bed, Annika looked down at the clothes that she had just removed from her hard-sided suitcase and spread out onto the mattress before putting them away for the duration of her business assignment here at the Sitting Mule Ranch. As always, she had neatly arranged panty and bra and, when applicable, garter belt, as matching units. It didn’t matter to her if not a soul in the world knew that her panties and bra weren’t a matching set. If Annika knew it, then she wouldn’t be happy. It would silently annoy her all day.

But what to wear? Hmmm? The pink bra and panty set from Victoria’s Secret, or the nice lacy, black number from Bali? Both were very attractive and extremely flattering to her sumptuous curves. The thong panties in the Bali set were nearly nonexistent, the front panel see-through, and the closure for the brassiere was between the cups. That could come in handy.

Stop thinking that way! Stop it right now!

Turning sharply away from the bed, Annika strode across the room, completely naked, to the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bedroom door. She looked into the reflection of her own eyes, searching for the woman that was hidden inside.

What’s going on?

She closed her eyes and sighed softly, as though frustrated with another woman’s child, though her frustration was entirely directed toward herself. It had been so long since she had felt attractive, young, alive…sexual.

Annika opened her eyes. This time, when she looked at the mirror, she did not look into the reflection of her own eyes. Rather, she gazed at her own hand, resting gently at her throat, and saw it as though looking at an object that was not, in fact, part of herself.

The hand moved slowly from her throat, the fingertips grazing lightly over delicate skin that had just been warmed and cleaned by a hot shower and a brisk rubbing with a thick, terry towel. The forefinger traced the ridge of a collarbone briefly then slid downward, inch by inch, awakening nerve endings that had been slumbering, moving into the cleavage of rounded breasts that suddenly felt full, tight, swollen with an emotion Annika herself could not precisely name.

“Ohhh,” she sighed as the hand moved horizontally, the fingers splaying to support the under curve of a heavy breast, lifting slightly as though to weigh, measure, judge for sensitivity.

The forefinger and thumb, moving at a leisurely pace that simultaneously infuriated and heightened arousal, came together to pinch a pink nipple that was now distinctly erect.

“Oh, God,” Annika whispered, her mouth open slightly, her breath coming in uneven, little gulps as she watched forefinger and thumb pinch, then twist, a nipple that burned and throbbed with rapidly escalating feminine lust.

It came as a shock to Annika when she discovered that her other hand, with fingers splayed, was at her stomach. She looked into the mirror, wondering in the thoroughly disoriented way of a woman whose passion had taken on an otherworldly dimension, just where
that
hand would go, and what it would do.

Her gaze in the reflection went lower to the neatly-trimmed, triangular patch of light-brown hair above the cleanly-shaven, fleshy, pink lips of her pussy.

Only a slut would shave off all her pubic hair.

She knew that was a lie. The only reason she hadn’t shaved completely was because her ex had said he wanted her to, but she didn’t, and the slutty bitch he cheated on her with had waxed herself smooth as glass. Her ex made a cruel point of letting her know about those juicy, little details. So Annika didn’t get rid of it all, though she paid very close attention to herself, kept the labia smooth as velvet, and never let three straight days pass without taking out her little, gold scissors and making sure that the feminine triangle of hair was a quarter inch in length and not a fraction of an inch longer.

Annika suspected it was a very thin line that separated proper, feminine hygiene, and wanton, sluttish behavior. Or maybe she was just being neurotic, which was something else she worried about.

Or, just maybe, her perspective had been prejudiced by being the woman who had been dumped for another who waxed regularly. And the woman who had taken her place in her ex’s bed and life was younger. To twist the knife even further, her ex said his new lover didn’t just
give
head, she
fucking loved
to give head. That little tidbit of information, presumably, wasn’t supposed to turn a woman into a stark, raving lunatic. But if that wasn’t enough, then what was?

Stop thinking about him. That’s all in the past.

But what wasn’t in the past was her hand, the fingertips of which were just now sliding over silky-soft hair the color of which was somewhere between very dark blonde, and very light brunette. But a moment later, when a very experienced middle fingertip came in contact with a very appreciative clitoris, the color of the aforementioned public hair was the least of the clitoris owner’s concerns.

“Fuck,” she whispered, saying a word she almost never used unless she was alone. Then, after the fingertip began moving in tight circles, she added with more precision and less delicacy, “Fuck, that feels good.” After tantalizing the clitoris for several seconds, the fingertip slipped inside the silken slit, prompting the speaker to conclude in a breathy whisper, “
Sooo
fucking good.”

The hands flexed, though not in unison. First forefinger and thumb compressed a nipple that was achingly aroused, sending delicious tingles through nerve sensors fine-tuned for sexual response. Then a slender, feminine finger slipped out from between pink pussy lips, dallied briefly, then traveled northward to a clitoris that nearly sobbed with joy at being given attention. Feminine honey, slick, oily, and magnificently lubricating, prepared the welcoming vagina for penetration.

Across the surface of her mind, two hazy faces, distorted but recognizable like images in a mirage, drifted in and out of sight. One was Joshua’s face, and the other was Sven’s.

Unconsciously, Annika pressed her middle two fingers together, then thrust them, none too gently, between the folds of her slit, filling her cunt with the twin digits. At the exact same time, she pinched her nipple quite hard and gave it a twist that caused a lightning bolt of sensation to lance through her body.

Her climax was instantaneous and explosive. The hand between her legs was an undulating blur as she finger-fucked herself into one, then two, and finally three quick, sharp, harsh climaxes.

When the spasms and orgasmic contractions at last came to a conclusion, Annika found herself on her knees, a breast in one hand, two fingers of the other stuffed up her pussy with her palm pressed tightly against her clitoris. She was breathing deeply, her chin on her chest, her golden-blonde hair falling down the sides of her face.

She lifted her chin from her chest and looked into the mirror. When she gazed into her own eyes, she quickly turned her face away.

“When in Rome…” Sven murmured as he looked at the whiskey-and-ice in the lowball glass that Joshua had just handed him.

“I’ve got a pretty well-stocked bar,” Joshua said, playing the host. “Name your poison and there’s a good chance I can pour it.”

“No, no,” Sven said quickly. “This is fine.” He smiled. “Do not worry. You are a very attentive host.” They were standing near the unlit fireplace, each with an elbow up on the mantle. Sven clinked his lowball glass against Joshua’s. “My English, you can understand?”

Joshua nodded. “Very easily. Miss Annika might not have been necessary.”

“Perhaps no. But I trust her judgment, and sometimes I am not so good with my English words.” An arched eyebrow lifted above an ice-blue eye. “She is nice to have around, no?”

“She is nice to have around, yes.” This time it was Joshua’s turn to tap his cocktail glass against his guest’s. “And competent?”

“Degree from the University of Oslo in hydro-engineering. With honors. And she is never late and does not miss work.” Sven smiled with professional appreciation. “I never have to ask her to stay late, though sometimes I do have to insist that she goes home. At first I just thought I needed someone to speak English for me, but I find myself…” His words faded, and his brow furrowed. “How you say?” He tapped his head with a forefinger and made a kicking motion.

“You found yourself kicking over ideas with her?”

Sven’s smile was open and expansive, and he nodded vigorously. Though he couldn’t say why, this openness made Joshua trust the big Norwegian just a little more than he had earlier.

The door opened, and Joshua turned toward it. When Annika stepped into the room, he felt a sudden tightening in his chest, and the breath caught in his throat for a moment. She had changed from her skirt-suit into a pair of black slacks with a white blouse over black pumps with slender heels. The ivory hair comb had been removed, and Annika’s golden-blonde hair now cascaded loosely over her shoulders.

“Am I late?” Annika asked.

Joshua noticed that she looked directly at Sven when she spoke. There was no doubting who held the power between them. She was solely concerned with Sven’s opinion of her, it seemed.

“It is common knowledge the world over that women do not change as quickly as men,” Sven said, a faint smile still curling his lips. “You are not late at all. Besides, this has given me a few minutes to speak to Joshua man to man and get to know him.” He turned to Joshua. “That is how you say it? Man to man?”

“That is exactly how you say it. Man to man.” Again, the two men touched lowball glasses. Then Joshua turned to Annika and asked, “Can I get you something to drink? Supper won’t be for another forty-five minutes, or so.”

Annika seemed hesitant and even cast a quick glance in Sven’s direction as though looking for approval. But Sven had turned his attention to the brickwork in the fireplace and was not looking. After a moment, she looked at Joshua and asked, “What are you drinking?”