Twin Cowboys for Tamara (28 page)
She wanted him inside her, writhing beneath her with the same desperate hunger. Just the thought of gloving his cock made her pussy muscles contract, made her wetter, her juices already dripping down the insides of her thighs in desire.
“Top drawer,” Jess panted when Tamara finally let him up for air.
Jax beat her to the night stand, retrieving two condoms and a tube of lubrication. He handed one of the condoms and the lube to his brother and kept the other condom for himself.
Tamara squeaked when he slid a finger past the tight ring of muscle and into her anus before he withdrew to slap her ass.
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She yelped and turned slightly to catch his jutting shaft as he tried to get back behind her, gently pumping him with one hand and scooping the pearl of liquid from the head of his cock with her thumb.
She brought it to her mouth, observing his mesmerized expression as she sucked the digit into her mouth with much relish, especially when she heard him groan.
She reached for Jess with her free hand, and treated him to the same handling, discerning the subtle differences in the brothers’
tastes—Jax’s sweet and tangy and Jess’s more down-to-earth and spicy—and liking them.
“If I don’t get inside you soon, I’m going to explode,” Jess growled. He ripped open his condom and rolled the latex down onto his shaft with lightning speed. He then coated his sheathed cock and Tamara’s anus with a liberal amount of lube.
Tamara panted and turned her back to sit down on his lap and straddle his legs. The ridged underside of his stiff penis rubbed against her lower back before he grasped her around the waist and lifted her several inches to hover over the head of his cock.
He teased both of them with his strength, nudging her creaming folds for a moment before he slowly lowered her onto his rod and Tamara’s rosette gradually stretched to accommodate his length and width. She cried out at the burning sensation when he pulled her down onto him and impaled her with one hard thrust. Breathless, she braced her hands against his strong thighs for balance and just in time to see Jax standing before her, weeping and engorged penis begging for its share of attention too.
She licked her lips, eager to taste him again, fully taste him.
Jess pumped his hips against her just as she sucked the head of Jax’s cock into her mouth. Tamara squeezed her muscles around Jess, pushing down against him as his cock throbbed inside her. His cock stretched her and made her nerve endings sing.
He picked up his rhythm, thrusting his pelvis as Tamara ground her ass against him while pulling more of Jax’s shaft into her mouth.
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Jax buried his hands in her hair, drawing her inexorably closer, and she gladly obliged his silent demand. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heady musky scent of him, getting high on his taste and enjoying him as she sucked and licked her way down to the root.
Jax rolled his hips, fucking her mouth and matching his brother’s rhythm for several long moments before he grunted and pulled back.
Dazed, Tamara looked up at him when he grasped her shoulders as if he tried to get a hold of himself. “What is it?”
“I want to be inside you when I come and I got too close.”
“Oh.” Tamara licked her lips and watched his dick twitch in response. She leaned forward to give him one more affectionate lick and kiss before Jess wrapped his arms around her waist to tumble them onto their sides and better accommodate Jax’s desire.
Jax quickly donned his condom and crawled onto the bed, facing Tamara and raking his hands through her hair to cup the base of her skull. He kissed her hard and long before he addressed his brother.
“How’re you doing back there, pardner?”
“I’m holding on.”
“Hold on a little longer.” Jax positioned himself at her entrance, teasing Tamara’s moist, velvety lips before he plunged inside.
Tamara gasped at the double penetration, the exquisite glide of two cocks pulsing inside her. She felt so stuffed she could barely breathe when each man wrapped his arms around her and secured her in a comfortable cage. She hooked one leg around Jax’s hip, tugging him close as Jess began to move inside her.
Jax joined him, pistoning and gyrating his hips as Jess did, their tempo in perfect, sensual synch, their movements a coordinated attack designed for one thing—to make her lose control.
Caught between the passion of their exploits and her own, Tamara drove her hips back and forth, relentlessly pushed to the edge of an orgasm that she toppled into with a scream of delight and near exhaustion.
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Jess and Jax’s climaxes instantly followed, each man stiffening in her embrace before releasing inside her on a chorus of husky shouts.
Tamara lay between them panting and getting her bearings. She took full advantage of the lull and fondled and squeezed all the hard muscles at her disposal—Jax’s smooth, bare back and tight ass, Jess’s downy, lean-muscled thighs, Both twins’ milked cocks remained inside her.
Tamara rested a cheek against Jax’s moist chest and listened to his pounding heart as it slowed to a regular beat, the pace of Jess’s heartbeat against her back slowing to match.
She opened her eyes to see Jax staring at her while he brushed a tendril of hair away from her face as if for a better look. He leaned in to kiss first her forehead, then her eyes and nose, brushing his full lips across her cheeks before he gently kissed her mouth. Behind her, Jess kissed and nipped her nape and shoulders, finally sucking her earlobe into his mouth and making her shudder in their embrace.
If she could stay here like this forever, she would be a happy woman, she thought, but duty called and Tamara had been ignoring it for much too long.
Just give me a few more days. I’ll go face the music then. I
promise.
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A few more days turned into another week before Tamara found herself standing outside her father’s bungalow like a kid who’d been called to the principal’s office.
Again, she had refrained from being anywhere near the twins outside of lending a hand with the guests and ranch activities.
She found a particular niche working with the less experienced guests on the ranch, especially the kids, teaching them the finer points of horseback riding and playing in the western town. In fact, she had been back several times since that first trip with Carson and Sam, had even taken part in one of Jax’s famous staged shootouts with them and Jax for the ranch guests’ kids.
She’d been back almost a month and aside from the not having much contact with her father and steering clear of the twins whenever she could, she felt as if she’d never left. She’d fallen right back into the routine of ranch life, had forgotten how much she enjoyed living, working but especially playing out in the clean fresh mountain air beneath the Colorado sun.
Her life would be perfect except for one thing.
Tamara closed her eyes now and took a deep breath, remembering how good it felt to have both Jess and Jax inside her, how safe and protected she’d felt. She tried to garner strength from that memory, those feelings, and how right it had felt being held by both men, being
with
both men at the same time, before she finally knocked on the door to her father’s house.
“It’s open!”
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Of course. She forgot for a moment that she wasn’t in New York where two locks and bars on the windows proved the minimum and norm.
Tamara turned the knob and opened the door, pausing on the threshold to take another deep breath and looked in the mirror her father had hanging on the wall opposite the door. She stared at her reflection as if checking for any telltale signs, a flush or a love-bite for instance, like the evidence of her and Jess and Jax’s love-play from days and days ago would still be visible.
Still she looked, figured even if she couldn’t detect anything, her hawk-eyed father might. She hadn’t been able to hide much from him as a kid. He’d always known when something was up with her, except for Noah. That affair she had managed to hide from him for almost a month.
Finding nothing to give her away, at least nothing discernable to her eyes, she gave a sigh of relief then stepped a little farther into the house to better admire the mirror.
She remembered the piece from her childhood, a gilt-framed number that her father probably got as a concession to her mother’s extravagant, feminine sensibilities. The piece definitely did not suit her dad—just like the rest of the house.
Like Jeremiah’s place, Dad’s bungalow had several distinctive touches that screamed a woman’s touch, most likely Maria’s. In the living room stood the cream, overstuffed sofa and chairs with accent pillows. At the window hung the complementary, floral-print, summer-weight curtains, and an Aztec-patterned throw rug adorned the hardwood floor beneath the mahogany coffee table.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and let in all the cold air or are you going to close the door and make yourself at home?”
The voice came from a distance, somewhere in the back of the house, probably the kitchen, but it might as well have come from right beside her for all its accuracy and force.
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Tamara closed the door behind herself, thinking it wasn’t too late to turn around and run. Her father hadn’t seen her yet, and she hadn’t made a commitment.
Coward.
She hadn’t allowed anyone to intimidate her in a long time, had left this anxiety and low self-esteem behind her years ago. She’d had to leave her family and home to do it, but she had.
Tamara came farther into the house and felt like she had gotten caught in a time warp.
Not much had changed since she’d left, but she still found it hard to believe that she had once lived here under the same roof with her bear of a father. Maybe because she spent as much time over at the Reynolds’ as she had ever spent at her house. Maybe because she’d grown up as well as away from her dad.
Despite the feeling of familiarity, Tamara still felt like an interloper, a trespasser and the fact that, unlike at the Reynolds’ where pictures of Paula abounded, not one picture of her mother inhabited a shelf or wall didn’t help. However, the fact that she spotted a picture of herself as a teen on the mantel above the fireplace in the living room left her strangely thrilled and shy.
Tamara walked toward the lemon-yellow kitchen where her dad stood on a stepstool trying to retrieve something from one of his many overhead cabinets.
Shaking her head she advanced into the room, rushing ahead when she noticed him about to lose his balance as he began to tip backwards.
Tamara rushed across the floor to steady him, planting her hands on his lower back and letting him brace his weight against her.
Once he had gotten stabilized on the stepstool again, Tamara stepped back so that he could get down.
“Are you okay?”
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“I’m fine. Just lost my footing is all.” He placed the box of spaghetti that he had been holding onto the counter and slowly turned to her.
She noticed his pallor, the way his clothes hung on his lean frame, much leaner than she could ever remember it being, and instantly wondered about the fall that had broken his leg.
Jeremiah had said he’d been thrown off of his horse when the animal got spooked by a snake. It sounded feasible, but for an expert rider like her father who had been riding since he’d been yay high to a caterpillar it just seemed unlikely.
“Stop looking at me like you done seen a ghost. It’s still the same me, just a little older and a little slower. But I ain’t helpless.”
“I never said you were,” Tamara mumbled, thinking maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. If anything, he acted more ornery here than he had at Jeremiah’s, as if he took advantage of being on his home turf.
“Thanks for your help,” Dad mumbled.
Instead of saying
you’re welcome
and leaving it at that, Tamara asked, “So when are you supposed to get rid of that cast, and why don’t you have some help around here, like a home attendant or someone until you’re back on your feet?”
“Soon enough and I ain’t crippled. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m just saying you could use a little help around here.”
“You been talking to Jeremiah behind my back?”
“Hardly.” She’d seen Jeremiah since she’d been back about as often as she’d seen her father, which wasn’t much.
“Is that why you came back? To help me until I’m ‘back on my feet’?”
“You don’t have to sound so thrilled about it, but yes, I did come back to lend a ha—”
“Don’t need no pity or charity.”
“And maybe I just came back to see you.”
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Her dad arched a brow as he took a seat at his oak table. “After all this time?”
“Somebody had to make a move.”
“I suppose I should be grateful.”
“God, I don’t know why I bother,” Tamara mumbled, but loud enough for him to hear. “You don’t have to be grateful or say thanks.