Woman on Top [McQueen Was My Valley 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

Besides. He shouldn’t be afraid of women. He should be afraid of huge, hairy Syrians in need of dental work.

The Inkwells were cuplike depressions in the red sandstone, carved after millennia of being sanded down by rushing water, a creek that passed through boring rounded sinks in the rock. Today that creek was nothing but melting ice, so Adrian walked the horse down to the larger, swampy lake area—Inkwell Lake, he supposed it was called. He tethered the horse to a dead pine and walked round to where he saw steam rising from the water’s surface. Today there was no one here, luckily, for Adrian really wanted to wash his sins away by stripping buck naked.

The dazzling sun immediately warmed his shoulders, and his prick instantly expanded as he eyed the steaming water. He threw down his towel, chugged some water from a bottle, and splashed into the warmest part of the lake.

Ah.
He sank down to his neck in the bubbly, sulfuric waters. He didn’t even need to find a rock to sit on, because he quite literally floated like a dead leaf. Mossy, creepy things tickled his ass and back, but he soon learned to relax back into these plants and let the geothermal waters soothe him.

This was what he needed. He had gladly agreed to help Nathan and his friends—wife Alexandra, and that game warden Julian—resolve the mystery of that liberty head nickel. But the truth was, he was glad of an excuse to get out of DC, out of the entire eastern seaboard. He had imagined that Utah would scourge his soul of the terrible wrongs that had been committed in Damascus, and for the most part, he was right. He’d arrived here in October and had just stayed on, fly-fishing alongside his commando buddy Nathan then skiing after the first snow had stayed. He had used his skiing skills on more than one mission—once, going cross-country across the Hindu Kush to find a fine art forger. Another time, escaping from an art thief in Turkey.

For Adrian, skiing meant freedom, so the past couple of months had helped him forget about the Damascus nightmare, and the perhaps even worse nightmare that had been waiting for him when he returned to Connecticut. Nathan’s call had come at an opportune time, a moment when Adrian could care less if he never saw the East Coast again. Because Nathan’s fiancée owned the entire lodge—and the surrounding countryside as far as the eye could see—Adrian had just sort of lingered, stayed on, attended Nathan’s wedding, relaxed. And relaxed some more.

Until that saucy miss Brooke had stepped into his treatment room, her fingers squiggling over the globes of his ass, stiffening his dick until it pressed into his abdomen as he lay facedown on the table.

His cock stiffened now as he floated in the rotten egg-smelling, rejuvenating waters of Inkwell Lake.
That Brooke vixen
. It was no damned healing thing to brush her oily fingertips across the rise of his ass. A lesser man could have sued her for lewd and lascivious conduct. That, or taken her up on her offer. Spread his thighs, offered her his cock, mauled her lovely uplifted cleavage. Damn, she looked like a Swiss Miss in those peasant blouses she insisted on wearing. She would be a regular snow bunny in a parka with a fur-lined hood.

Adrian’s hand went to his cock as he ran through all the things he
could
have done. He heard the lowing of some cattle as he fisted his burgeoning cock. Brooke was a fresh, clean beauty. Instead of reacting so belligerently, he could have spread his thighs, indicated he wanted her to massage his cock. He could have grabbed her by the wrist, suggested that she pump his dick, like he was now doing.

Ah
. It was a good sign that he got a hard-on this easily just thinking about the Swiss Miss’s face. Adrian was relieved to know he didn’t loathe all women, even after Lyla in New Canaan. No, Brooke was arousing in the abstract, perhaps, now that she was safely hidden miles away at the lodge. Adrian imagined her lounging in the waters across from him, her long thighs crossed one over the other, her pert and regal face casting him seductive looks.

Within a minute, he felt on the verge of coming as he pumped his dick. The lowing cows seemed to encourage him in his base activity. In fact, the semen was surging up the underside of his penis, when all of a sudden he found himself sputtering, splashing about in the pond, looking up at a giant, looming silhouette. Adrian knew authority figures even by their silhouettes, so he felt around for the edge of the pool, spitting out water he’d nearly swallowed.

“Sir!” barked the authority figure, placing one booted foot on a snow-covered rock. “Did you know it is a Class B misdemeanor violation under Title 76 to masturbate in public?”

Rising from the water, Adrian circled around the game warden, out of the direct sun so he could discern some features of the authority figure’s face. Yes, he
was
ridiculously tall, and nearly as broad. He had brutal, sensuous features. Full, bowed lips and a three-day-old beard marked him as something of a Cro-Magnon man, just a lumbering doofus.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Adrian laughed and bent to scoop up his towel, but the warden gripped his forearm.

“Kidding you about what,” the warden snarled in a low voice. “That you were masturbating in public? Or that it’s against the law?”

Is this guy serious?
He’s not even going to let me cover up?
Adrian still couldn’t believe the warden was harassing him in the boondocks over something so stupid. He supposed it was part of the guy’s job to be lurking in the middle of nowhere, but honestly. Public masturbation? The closest other human was five miles away, at the lodge. Adrian tried to yank his arm away, but the warden had a firm grip on it. He tried to laugh, but it was difficult with a boner pointing directly at the warden’s crotch. “Well, I can’t lie that I wasn’t jacking off, officer. But there’s no one around to complain, is there? Can’t you just let me off with a verbal?”

Officer Verona—so the nametag above his jacket pocket said—looked Adrian up and down. His heavy-lidded eyes drank in Adrian’s entire form, as though the thought of giving Adrian a verbal was foremost on his mind. Adrian’s prick hadn’t even gone down to half-mast but stubbornly insisted on jutting right out there. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Lewdness is an offense against public decency.”

Adrian still could not fathom that this asswipe was this serious about such a trivial offense that no one had noticed. “Listen, can’t I just pay the fine right now? That’d save you writing a tick—
Oh
,
c’mon
!”

In a flash and a couple of clicks, Verona had cuffed Adrian’s hands in the front, cinching his rebellious cock up against his pubic bone.
He’s got to be kidding!
Apparently Verona took his job dead seriously, though, for he now hitched his thumbs into his heavily armored belt and backed Adrian up against a sandstone cliff face. “You’re out here just jacking away at your dick when anyone could walk along. The Inkwells are a well-used spot out here in Prism Canyon.”

Being handcuffed, naked, and helpless brought back bad memories. Not only of the recent time he’d been held prisoner in Damascus, but other similar experiences. Tel Aviv, Khartoum, Cyprus. For some reason, people seemed to like to take him captive. “Well,” Adrian stuttered. “I’d like to think I would hear someone coming, and—”

“You didn’t hear
me
.” Verona stood so close to him, practically breathing down on Adrian’s forehead, he was beginning to think Verona was the lewd one. Indeed, it may have been Adrian’s imagination, but it seemed as though he could feel the heat emanating from the crotch of Verona’s tightly packed pants.

Was it titillating Verona to handcuff a naked man then back him up against a wall? Verona had chosen a cliff face that was under an extreme overhang, away from most potential prying eyes. He could’ve ticketed him or even forced him to mount his horse to go to whatever station was in this godforsaken wilderness, but no, Verona had chosen to press his body against a nude, defenseless man. Adrian could use this to his advantage. Spreading his feet in the icy sand, Adrian brought his cuffed hands under his protruding cock, displaying it even more prominently. It fairly pulsated as it hung above his cuffed wrists. Verona’s eyelids flickered as he ran his eyes up and down Adrian’s torso.

And it definitely wasn’t Adrian’s imagination that, even stuck in this predicament, his cock had failed to go flaccid. Was it possible the run-in with the twisted authority figure was turning him on as well?

“You must be awful quiet,” Adrian agreed. “You must be awful good at doing things without anyone noticing.”
He might let me go if I comply with his wishes.
No one’s out here. Who’ll ever know?

Verona chuckled. “I’m an expert at espionage.” He raised the back of his hand to Adrian’s bare chest, running the knuckles ever so lightly over his nipple, making his cock jump. “What’re you doing out here in January, anyway? Staying at the lodge?” Verona asked in a low, sultry tone.

Adrian could have mentioned that he was good friends with the new lodge owner’s husband, potentially getting himself out of any ticket at all, but he wanted to see where this was going. He’d never engaged in any sort of gay antics before, but suddenly his curiosity—and more—was piqued. It was sort of a unique situation to be in. He was handcuffed, so he had plausible deniability. “I swear,” he could already envision telling future girlfriends, if he ever had one again, “I had no choice. My hands were literally tied.”

And besides, he’d been raring to come for over twenty-four hours now.

He returned Verona’s sultry look. This muscular buck with his sun-browned skin was probably a wild animal between the sheets. “On vacation from DC. Don’t know anyone in the entire state, so no one told me the laws.”

When Verona pinched a nipple, sending arrows of lust shooting into Adrian’s groin, Adrian was convinced. The utterly scandalous situation
was turning Adrian on
. His penis leaped every time Verona tweaked his nipple, and both men panted so heavily a layer of steam misted Adrian’s face. “You’re a real hot number,” Verona breathed.

All at once he grabbed Adrian. One hand gripped the cuffs, the other his shoulder. Verona twirled him around to face the wall, and he let go of the handcuffs to fumble with his own clothing. Adrian saw the official brown jacket with the official patches and badge tossed to the sand, and heard a radio crackle as Verona fiddled furiously with his belt.

Oh, fuck. He’s going to do me up the ass.
This scared Adrian. Lots of men at his company engaged in homosexual play. Commandos were often stuck in the field for weeks at a time, bored, doing surveillance on targets that sometimes barely moved, or even turned out to be dead. Having been stuck once in Equatoria State in the Sudan with Nathan Horowitz and his partner Rory, Adrian could attest to that. While they waited in the hangar for the okay to fly their mission, Nathan and Rory had gone at it like two stallions in heat. They were loud and brutal and didn’t seem to care who had to listen to them. Adrian, as usual, had been miserable. Horny and unable to do anything about it other than jack off in the malaria- and bug-infested jungle, away from prying eyes, because he was proper, straight, and moral. He never got to have one minute’s worth of fun when he was out of the country. Having to listen to those two studs even made it worse.

But suddenly, Verona paused. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and saw the officer looking him up and down again, not with lust this time. What had changed? Adrian was actually becoming disappointed that the cop wasn’t whipping out his dick and mounting him, though Verona even had his baton extended in one hand in preparation for some rough play.

No, his eyes had gone all soft, as though getting second thoughts.
Fuck. I might get an arrest on my record after all
.
Oh well. The company will eradicate it from my record.
Verona grabbed Adrian’s elbow and turned him, his expression downright friendly. “I reckon you don’t need any more harassment right now,” Verona said, and for the first time Adrian noticed his syrupy Texas drawl.

He had no idea what Verona meant. There wasn’t time to think, for suddenly the warden dropped to his knees and inhaled Adrian’s cock down his throat.

The shock was so intense Adrian hissed in air and held his breath. All the blood must’ve suddenly drained from his brain, for he became so light-headed he had to lean back against the cave wall.

The warden was an expert cocksucker, that was for sure. Within thirty seconds of hoovering Adrian’s dick into his mouth, Adrian poised on the verge of the most explosive orgasm of his life. The way Verona squiggled his tongue and powerfully sucked at the same time as he bobbed his head up and down the length of his bulging shaft, well, Adrian knew he had vast experience at this. Adrian swiveled his hips to sink his cock deeper down the hot throat.

He felt no homosexual shame at all as the flood of pent-up jism built up at the tip of his dick, about to explode. Somehow Verona must have known this, for he backed off, causing Adrian to whimper with need.

Verona held the glans of Adrian’s bursting cock lightly between his teeth, tickling it with his tongue. Something hard and cold nudged against Adrian’s asshole. He spread his feet apart to indicate his willingness to be impaled. Verona slid his police baton up his ass.

This redheaded beauty was a real looker.

Gabriel Verona didn’t usually go for redheads, but this one was built, trim, a flame-haired stunner. Embarrassingly, Gabriel had malingered behind a fucking rock watching the stud jack himself, becoming unbelievably aroused. His snow-white skin was in sharp contrast to the iceberg-hued water of the deep pool, the bubbles holding him aloft as he floated with his fist around a long, fat prick.