Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Bride Train 9

  Demanding Satisfaction

  Sophie McLeod is desperate for her turn at hot sex but needs a few strangers. Maxwell Gibson, Pinkerton detective, refuses to assist her while working. His identical twin, Sam, doesn't hold back, giving Sophie an arousing taste of what she's been missing.

  On their last assignment before they leave the Agency, they've agreed to find Mr. Isaac, who's tortured and murdered women. Finding a wife is high on Sam and Josh's list, but Max insists brazen Sophie doesn't suit his meticulous plans for their ranch.

  Desperate to catch Mr. Isaac, Sophie works in a Bannack City saloon as bait, upsetting Max's plans and raising Sam's protective instincts. She's forced upstairs as punishment, hired by a scruffy but arousing man. Then he introduces himself as the youngest, and most dominant, Gibson brother, Josh.

  Men from all the Tanner's Ford ranches come to help, but she must ultimately face Mr. Isaac on her own. And who is the villain, once unmasked?

  Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.

  Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 103,291 words

  DEMANDING SATISFACTION

  Bride Train 9

  Reece Butler

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  DEMANDING SATISFACTION

  Copyright © 2013 by Reece Butler

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-584-6

  First E-book Publication: March 2013

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 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

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Demanding Satisfaction by Reece Butler from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Reece Butler’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Butler’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to the people who have supported and encouraged me as the town of Tanner’s Ford, and the people within it, came to life: my fans, friends, and family.

  While this novel ends an era, the Tanner’s Ford saga continues in the contemporary town of Climax, Montana, as younger generations of ranchers and townsfolk cope with a changing world. Please see the Author's Note at the end of the book for more information.

  DEMANDING SATISFACTION

  Bride Train 9

  REECE BUTLER

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter 1

  Tanner’s Ford Hotel, late September 1872

  “Ironing a shirt is a simple job. Needs no thinking.”

  Sophie McLeod stopped dead at the deep male voice coming from her hotel kitchen. The sun had gone down long ago and the dining room was closed. She had only one guest and Maxwell Gibson had no business being in her kitchen!

  “That’s why it’s a woman’s job,” replied a much younger male. “Women can’t think like a man.”

  She pursed her lips, holding back words that a hotel owner must never say near a paying guest. No matter how rude, one must be gracious and polite. But she’d had it with catering to the likes of arrogant men!

  It was time to get her own home. A place she would share only with those she invited in. Now that she was free of the town council’s restrictions she could invite someone like the arousing man in her kitchen, Maxwell Gibson of the Pinkerton Detective Agency.

  But she would not lie passive in bed as she had with her husband. No, she would demand satisfaction. She wanted what Beth Elliott and the other ranch wives boasted about—powerful men providing hours of passionate, mutually satisfying sex.

  She slumped against the wall. Unfortunately, the only way she was going to meet new men was to visit somewhere else. Few acceptable men came to Tanner’s Ford. She’d not seen one for years until about a month ago. Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry when she’d met Mr. Gibson.

  She knew he wanted her the first time they met. He’d given her a look that made her toes curl. Byron Ashcroft later told her Max said he wanted a wife and she would be worth handing his badge in for. She’d gone so far as to declare to her friends that she’d taken a fancy to him. But after that one meeting he’d wanted little to do with her. She’d cursed him even while she lusted after his body.

  She peeked around the corner. Her pulse doubled. Oh, yes, that sandy-blond hair was familiar. So were the full lips. The naked chest facing her was a surprise. A very nice surprise.

  Max was talking to Billy O’Keefe. The boy had finished his chores ages ago and should be with his father, Paddy. And what was the handsome Pinkerton detective doing in her kitchen while he chatted with Billy? Using her worktable to iron his shirt! He’d not asked permission, just taken her set of sadirons and gone to work. An empty cup of coffee and plate with crumbs on it suggested he’d also helped himself to her food though he’d had dinner only a few hours ago. She should send Doc after him to dose him for tapeworm.

  There was a lot of muscle under the black suit he always wore. She noted the long white scar rising from below his belt on his right side, up his ribs. It looked like a knife slash. He must have backed up quickly enough to avoid getting worse.

  The scar was evidence of th
e violent life he led. That life didn’t match the man expertly ironing a shirt. He wouldn’t have learned to do that if he’d had a woman in his life.

  He murmured something to Billy, who replied too low for her to hear. She concentrated on taking in the unusual, welcome sight. The only time she’d seen men working with their shirts off was when they had a working party at one of the ranches in the valley. She’d had to fan her face when she drove the wagon onto the Circle C the other year. Almost every man was stripped to the waist. Back then she couldn’t look without being called a whore and having her hotel taken away. That danger was gone, along with the odious Orville Rivers.

  She’d never seen Amos without a shirt. He only came to her in the dark, in his nightshirt. He was finished in minutes and was gone, leaving her sore and unsatisfied. She didn’t know marital relations could be any different until she met Miss Lily. The old lady had owned one of the finest gentlemen’s parlors in Montana Territory.

  Only after Amos died, and they got into some blackberry cordial one winter evening, did Lily tell her that what a man and woman did in private could be very enjoyable. The things Lily said had shocked her. Shocked and intrigued. Since then she’d seen every single valley wife blush with pleasure when one of their men gave a knowing wink or patted their bottom.

  Sophie realized that watching Max iron his shirt wearing nothing above his waist was the closest she’d ever come to sexual satisfaction. She might as well enjoy this, memorizing every detail for the long, cold winter nights to come.

  The hair on his bowed head matched the curls dusting his broad chest. She swallowed hard, thinking of how his coarse hair would rub against her nipples if he held her tight and they were both naked. Her breasts tingled and her nipples hardened into nubs.

  Muscles flexed as his dexterous fingers moved the iron. Fingers that she watched move gently, with precision. She’d thought about those fingers touching her, how they’d play with her breasts before trailing down her belly and into her wet curls. Her pussy swelled and dampened in anticipation. Those fingers would find the spot that she hadn’t discovered until widowed.

  When Sophie told Beth Elliott she’d never marry and lose her property to a husband, Beth insisted she learn to pleasure herself. If she ever did find a man in her bed, she’d know how to show him what she wanted.

  Sophie had recently counseled Casey Wright before her marriage to Cole Taylor. She’d told the younger woman that the touch of her men’s fingers, tongue, and lips could make her feel like she was flying. She’d said those things to Casey even though it had never happened to her. From the dreamy looks Casey now gave her three husbands, the young bride had flown quite a few times.

  Casey was the eighth valley bride. All seemed deliriously happy with their husbands’ sexual exploits, even if the arrogant, demanding men made them furious sometimes.

  Was it too much to ask that she find some of that sexual pleasure?

  Max lifted his arms to move the shirt. How could tufts of hair under his arm make her quiver? Or was it the thought of having his arms around her, of his stormy sea-green eyes staring down as he pounded his cock deep inside? She pressed her thighs together, but it didn’t stop her need. He seemed different tonight. Relaxed and confident, he aroused her even more.

  The detective had come to Tanner’s Ford to find evidence against Frederick Smythe. It was Lily Thatcher’s idea to hire him to also find Mr. Isaac before the brute tortured any more women. Sophie provided Max’s room and board. He ate like he’d not had home-cooked meals in years and needed to make up for it. She’d thought he was strong, but watching all those muscles flex proved it.

  He could force her to do anything he wanted, could overpower her and make her do the wicked things that she craved.

  The first time she’d heard how three men could enter a woman at the same time she’d gasped in shock. But tiny Amelia MacDougal had hinted of eagerly taking Gillis, Ross, and Nevin at once. Gillis was fourteen inches taller than Amelia and as wide as a barrel. If she could sigh over being pleasured by those three men at once, then so could Sophie.

  Her pussy throbbed at the thought of being held as she fought to escape. She dreamed about being tied to the bed blindfolded, unable to resist as a man did whatever he wanted. One of her favorite fantasies involved rejecting the demand to undress and getting her clothes ripped off. She would fight him, refusing to give in, but he would overpower her. Perhaps he’d throw her on the bed and spank her before plowing into her. Or he’d turn her around and take her against the wall. Or he’d force her to bend over a table as he took her from behind, mercilessly pounding into her.

  A table just like the one Max used to iron his shirt. She swallowed hard, panting in her excitement.

  But just because she wanted to be sexually overpowered didn’t mean she was treated as little more than a servant the rest of the time. No, she was a strong, confident woman, and that would not change.

  Max laughed at something Billy said, throwing back his head and revealing white teeth inside those full lips. Lips that could kiss her gently or with the wild force that she craved. That deep laugh had swept over her breasts to land between her legs. Her pussy quivered, an unusual feeling that was more of an awareness than anything else. She held back a moan. All she wanted from the man was an orgasm!

  Max walked to the stove to switch irons. It gave her a view of his broad shoulders and wide back. His pants curved out below his belt. She’d never seen the back side of him without a coat. He had a very nice set of curved buttocks. She could curl her fingers into them, pulling him deep inside and demanding he take her harder.

  Her pussy lips swelled like slices of dried apple in hot water. If she had worn drawers today, they’d be soaked. Max turned. She jerked her head back, but soon peeked again. He stood beside Billy holding the hot iron.

  “Turn my shirt around so I can do around the buttons.”

  “Men don’t iron shirts,” scoffed Billy. “Pa says it’s a woman’s job to take care of her man.”

  Billy crossed his arms in refusal. She pressed her lips together at the boy’s attitude, so typical of the men she’d known. Her mother had said the same, serving her father as if he was a prince. She did it even after they both worked long days in the hotel he owned. Sophie had done the same for Amos, but things changed when she became a widow. She would not go back to fussing over a demanding man. Even if Max didn’t do women’s work, at least he understood what was involved and could appreciate it.

  She listened, needing to hear Max’s reaction. Tonight she’d seen another side of him. He was so changeable, she didn’t know who the real man was. He could talk like he’d never been near a grammar book, then speak as if he was a scholar. How much was an act to gather evidence, and how much was the real man?

  “Women’s work?” asked Max mildly. Billy jerked his head in a nod. “Here’s a question for you. How many men are there in Montana Territory for each unmarried woman?” Billy shrugged as if he didn’t care. Max flipped the shirt over as if he’d done it dozens of times. “How many husbands do each of the valley wives share?”

  “Three,” said Billy grudgingly.

  “Three men sharing one woman and happy to do it. And why? Because there aren’t enough good women to go around. Billy, there are about three hundred single men in Montana Territory for every available woman. If you’re going to live here, you’d best learn how to take care of yourself because there’s a good chance you’ll end up on your own.”

  “Why bother ironing yer shirt? Yer coat covers it anyways.”

  Max looked up. He flicked his eyes in her direction before dropping them to his work again. She caught her breath. Had he seen her? She waited for him to say something, but he was silent. Perhaps she’d been safely in the shadow. The room was dim except for the circle of light from the lamp hanging over the table.

  “A man has a far better chance catching a good woman if he’s clean, neat, sober, and can take care of himself.”

  “I’m cl
ean. Pa makes me warsh from ears to toes every week.” Billy, lips pushed out in disgust, held out his hands. “Miss Sophie makes me dabble my hands every dang time I come in the kitchen.” He jammed his elbows on the table and looked up to Max. “If you find yerself a wife, you won’t have to do this no more.”

  Max leaned forward and dropped his voice. “You want to hear a secret, man to man?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s a very important reason a man does his woman’s chores now and then.”

  Sophie found herself leaning forward to listen. Max looked up, straight at her. She gulped. He had seen her. There was laughter in his eyes as well as a smile on his lips. Though he looked away a second later, the effects lingered. Her tight nipples pressed against her shift as if she was chilled, yet the kitchen’s heat had not yet faded. She could not blame her reaction on anything but Max.

  “If my woman’s ironing my shirt, she’s not kissing me.” He winked at the boy. “I like kisses, every chance I get. Makes sense to do anything I can to get more.”

  “Kiss girls?” Billy grimaced. “Emma’s always after me and Daniel to kiss her. We don’t want no girl’s slobbery lips.”

  Max grinned. “I expect you’ll change your mind in the next five years.”

  “You like kissing girls?”

  Max’s laugh quivered down her spine, landing in her swollen pussy. She rubbed damp hands on her work apron. He set the iron on its plate, shook out his shirt, and slid his hands through the sleeves. All that gorgeous flesh was hidden except for a strip down his front. The white of the fabric made his tanned skin look even darker. It made her draw her eyes down to his belt, and below.