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

  “Oh, my—”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth and jerked back, out of sight. The bulge behind his buttons was immense. How would it feel to have her pussy stretched by such a cock? She splayed her hands against the cool wall on either side of her hips.

  “I like kissing women,” corrected Max, emphasizing the last word. “I’m done. Your pa might want his pie now.”

  Sophie stayed where she was, out of sight. A moment later Billy raced out, slamming the door behind him. She froze, nerves taut, heart pounding so loud she couldn’t hear a thing over it. What would Max do? He had to pass her to get to the back stairs leading to his room.

  A faint slip of boot on wood was the only warning she got before large hands slid around her waist. She squeaked as his tall, warm body pressed her against the wall from shoulders to hips. Every nerve in her body tingled at his touch. He held her securely. Even if she tried to escape, she would not be able to.

  “What about you, Miz McLeod? Do you like kissing?”

  The deep chocolate words, whispered but distinct, flowed over her neck. She swallowed, unable to speak. His lips brushed past her ear. A soft moan escaped. She grabbed his shirt, needing something to hold so she didn’t wrap her arms around him. Her pussy throbbed with need. She couldn’t help rubbing her swollen breasts against his chest. A deep chuckle resonated against her own.

  She’d waited her whole life to feel this. For once, she gave in to her desires.

  When his lips brushed against hers, as if asking permission, she opened her mouth eagerly. His hands wrapped around her, snaking down to her bottom. He pulled her against him. Her belly burned where his hard cock branded her.

  He kissed her, gently but with a demand she’d never felt. She responded, opening herself to him. He squeezed her soft buttocks, kneading them, keeping her close. She shifted her feet, spreading them to better keep her balance. One hand slid between her legs, pressing her skirt and petticoats against her mound.

  “I think you want some of this,” he said.

  His strong fingers rubbed in a circle above her swollen pussy. She felt his heat even through the layers. She broke the kiss, gasping to breathe. He rested his forehead against hers, chest heaving just as hard. His fingers didn’t stop, thank God. She tilted her pelvis up, silently begging for more. He moved his fingers.

  “Oh, yes!”

  She froze, unable to breathe, unwilling to move in case his touch slipped off her button. She’d found the spot herself but never, ever had it felt like this. His fingers rubbed slowly, one each side, up and down.

  She fisted her hands in his shirt and yanked him down. He growled and took her mouth. She rubbed herself against his chest, arousing her tight nipples. The sensations against her mouth and breasts and pussy combined into something greater than she’d ever experienced.

  “Yes, Max,” she moaned, thrusting against him.

  “I’m not…” He pulled away.

  “No!” she moaned.

  He growled something, then his hands went under her skirt. Hot flesh touched her thighs. She groaned, needing him to find that spot, to put his finger on her flesh.

  “Please!”

  She hated herself begging, but she’d die if she didn’t have more. It was as if she’d lived her life in black and white and suddenly discovered color.

  “Shh, I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured.

  His hands rose. She shifted her feet to give him room. His fingers brushed between her slippery thighs, tantalizingly slow. She whimpered. He held her bottom with one hand. The other slid over her swollen pussy lips. She shivered and bent her knees slightly to open herself up to him.

  “No drawers?” His groan tuned into a broken chuckle. “I like a woman who’s ready for me. You’re wet, Sophie.” His fingers pressed into her pussy. “Wet and wanting. I like that.”

  She held her breath, unsure what would come next. He tilted his lips and savagely took her in a kiss. She returned it, hungry for anything he could give. He ground the heel of his hand into her mound while his fingers probed between her pussy lips. At the same time he rubbed his chest against her and filled her mouth with his tongue.

  Sensation consumed her, along with a heat she’d never experienced. She pulled her mouth away, needing to breathe. His scent enveloped her. Clean male musk, a touch of ironed starch from his shirt, a hint of spice and leather.

  He shifted his palm, taking over her clit with his fingers. Nothing existed but the fingers dancing over her flesh. A tension wound from deep inside, needing release. She knew it, had almost screamed over frustration of it, because she could never make it happen. There was more, she knew it, but hadn’t found what she needed.

  “Let go, sweetie,” he murmured. “Let me show you how.”

  Chapter 2

  He swallowed her pleas with his mouth. Nothing existed but his fingers on her clit, his hand squeezing her bottom, his mouth plunging into hers, his chest rasping her nipples. She thrust her hips against him, demanding more. Demanding that hard cock throbbing against her belly. Tension rose, higher and higher, until she exploded, her mind blank to everything but sensation. Sparkles appeared behind her eyes.

  She found herself sobbing against him. One of his arms held her from collapsing. The other still stroked between her still-throbbing pussy lips. He murmured words she didn’t catch over the rushing in her ears.

  It was so good. Too good. What she’d always wanted, yet not enough. She wanted more. She wanted his mouth on her pussy, sucking her clit before thrusting his cock inside her, again and again, until she screamed her release as he bellowed his.

  She wanted him in all the ways Beth spoke of. She wanted to take him in her mouth. She wanted to have him fill her backside. She wanted two men at once. No, three!

  “I’d love to give you more, Miz McLeod, but I’ll not take a lady against a wall.” A low chuckle reverberated against her. “At least, not the first time.”

  She pushed against his chest. He released her. She staggered, then stumbled backward. He grasped her upper arms to hold her from falling. Heat seared her, shooting from her arms past her tingling breasts to her needy, still-throbbing pussy.

  She wanted him. Wanted to drag him around the corner to her private bedroom. Wanted him to strip her naked and take her every way Beth said her men took her. Again and again until she was so sated she couldn’t even blink.

  She came to earth with a crash. She stood in the hall with her skirts rucked up by a man’s hand. She held this near stranger with a grip so tight it was as if he’d saved her from drowning. And she wanted more!

  She knew Max wanted her, and could bring her to heights never experienced. But what if she let him, and then tomorrow morning he pretended she was nothing to him? She would not let herself need a man who blew hot and cold. Max shunned her in public yet did this to her when alone. She would not tolerate it. Either he wanted her, or he didn’t.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  He backed away, hands up. “Now, sugar, don’t—”

  “Don’t you ‘sugar’ me, Maxwell Gibson! You made it very clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She crossed her arms over her aching breasts. “I need you to catch Mr. Isaac. Otherwise I’d throw you out of my hotel tonight. Now get out of my kitchen!”

  Max waited a moment. When she didn’t give in, he sighed and turned away. His feet thudded up the stairs, one at a time. Her chin wobbled. Would she ever have a chance for such absolute pleasure again? He looked over his shoulder at her. She hardened her heart, lifted her chin, and glared up at him.

  “Sophie, I’m not—”

  She turned so fast her skirts almost tripped her. All the way to her room she felt his sad eyes on her back.

  “I haven’t touched a man in seven years!” She pulled the pins out of her hair with trembling fingers. Her braid fell down her back. “He’s like an icicle in public, treating me as if I’m nothing but a servant. Then he does this!”

  She hung her dress on
the hook by the barred door.

  “I don’t need him. Once Mr. Isaac is dead, I can leave Tanner’s Ford and go where I want. I can sell this hotel and buy a home of my own. No one will care if I visit a big city and find a man to entertain me. I can come back to my friends and live happily.”

  Her petticoats dropped to the floor. She stepped out of them and placed them across the chair, ready for the morning. Her shift followed her dress over her head. The cool air touched her heated skin. She stomped to the wall to hang her shift over her dress. Her naked thighs slipped past each other. She looked down. Fluid glistened in the lamplight from her swollen pussy lips to almost halfway to her knees. She clenched her internal muscles as if she had a cock inside. They responded sluggishly, as if too swollen to react.

  “It’s not only men who have needs! “

  She looked at her swollen breasts. Her nipples, hard and crinkled, stuck out. She cupped her breasts. Her hands weren’t big enough to cover all her flesh. Max’s would not only cover her, his calluses would rub deliciously against her nipples.

  “Enough!”

  She yanked on her nightgown, kicked her shoes off, and rolled down her stockings. She placed them in her shoes and climbed into bed. Her cold, empty, bed.

  “I would never have let him lift my skirts and take me against the wall.”

  Yes, you would, she answered silently. And then you’d beg for more.

  The bed ropes squeaked when she shoved herself onto her side. She thumped her pillow for good measure. She would not let one man’s touch change her mind.

  No matter how much she wanted more.

  * * * *

  Sam Gibson rested his hand on the square newel post at the top of the back stairs. Max was sleeping in their room over the kitchen. What had possessed him to touch Sophie like that? He rubbed the cock straining against his pants. That was the reason. Sophie McLeod made him so damn hot that every time he saw her he wanted to haul her into the nearest bed and ravish her.

  “Don’t need a bed. Wall will do,” he said. He thought back to what he’d been doing when he realized she watched him ironing Max’s shirt. “Or a table.”

  He snorted a laugh and scrubbed his hair. Yes, the sturdy table he’d done his ironing on would take her weight. It was even the perfect height. He could lay her on her back, lift her skirts, and slide right into her pussy. Or he could bend her forward and take her from behind. Either way, she’d be hot and wet, and wanting. Just like tonight.

  “How the heck am I going to pretend to be ice-cold Max when I know she’s not wearing drawers?”

  Sliding his fingers up her slippery thighs had him trembling. When his fingers touched her swollen pussy instead of a cotton barrier, he’d almost come in his pants. He had a wet spot from pre-cum, but at least he hadn’t exploded like a youth.

  He was the first of them to see Sophie. He had been in the dining room with Byron Ashcroft. She’d come in with Casey, but he only had eyes for the prim, widowed Mrs. Amos McLeod. The way she held her head high and looked directly at him made him want her. The sway of her hips made him want her. So did the challenge in her eyes.

  He had an idea from her spark and determination that she’d be passionate, but this was more than he’d hoped for. She’d come from his touch, grinding her clit against his palm. He was sure it was her first time, and that she wanted more. Yet she’d pushed him away when he thought she’d invite him back to her room to finish the job.

  He groaned, letting his head fall back to thud against the wall. What the heck had Max done while he was away? Didn’t his twin want Sophie? Likely he’d put everything aside until they finished this last assignment. Why couldn’t Max enjoy a side trip now and then, instead of staying on the straight and narrow?

  This was one of the problems with having an identical twin few people knew about. Judge Thatcher knew, and he’d likely told Sheriff Barstow. Maybe it slipped out when he or Max was interviewing someone. But obviously Sophie didn’t know. Would she change her mind if she knew there were two of them, and that he was the one who’d flirted with her?

  He rubbed his swollen cock, wishing it was Sophie’s hand. No, her mouth, taking him deep as he fought to stay still. And then he’d fill her pussy and explode inside her, pumping until she came for a second time. If he was really lucky, and they could keep her for a while, he might get her to consider having one of them slide into her ass. His cock throbbed, begging for release.

  “Sorry for waking you, buddy, but it won’t be happening tonight.”

  He was suddenly exhausted from the long ride. Sophie was gone for the night. He might as well try to sleep. He gave the quiet knock to let Max know it was him, opened the door, and entered. Max saw it was him, rolled over, and was soon snoring again. Sam stripped to his drawers and collapsed into bed. He curled on his side as usual. His hand ended up near his nose. He inhaled Sophie’s feminine scent.

  “The next time we get together, Sophie McLeod, I’m not walking away,” he vowed.

  Chapter 3

  “That Mr. Gibson’s back again. I already gave him breakfast.”

  Sophie stilled for a moment at Billy’s voice before setting the hot pie down with a thump. She blew on her fingers. They weren’t quite as protected by the cloth as she’d hoped. Neither was her heart protected if it thumped like that just from the thought of him.

  She’d tossed and turned all night. Should she have pushed him away? She might have been flying this morning, satisfied and eager for more. Instead, she was tired, grumpy, and very, very frustrated. When she dressed, she’d braided her hair looser than normal. She wound it around her head like a crown but pinned it in a less severe way. Her top two buttons were undone and she’d folded her sleeves back so her wrists showed.

  If Max’s fingers could bring her to orgasm in only a few minutes, what could the rest of him do? She shouldn’t be greedy.

  But you want to be greedy. You want those screaming multiple orgasms the valley wives boast about.

  She shut the stove door with a slam. Unfortunately Max Gibson was the first man in her twenty-six years to make her heart beat erratically and her pussy swell. She mercilessly tamped down another wave of arousal before it flashed up her chest. She was not going to be burned by a man.

  While she might want Max in her bed temporarily, most of the time he looked like the sex-means-marriage type of man. She wasn’t against remarrying, but she wanted more than he could provide. Why shouldn’t she have passion and laughter, spankings and cuddling, and screams of release from three large, determined, dominant men? She set her fists on her hips and frowned at Billy. “What does that Eastern dude want now?” she asked.

  “Breakfast,” said Billy.

  He idly scratched a scab on his forearm, but she saw him watching her out of the corner of his eyes. He’d shown up before dawn and prepared the dining room while she rushed around the kitchen. Mary Barstow usually made the bread and pies but was still too queasy in the morning. Sophie hadn’t really paid attention to who wanted breakfast, but…She frowned.

  “Didn’t he already eat?”

  “First thing,” said Billy, nodding. “But he just came in again. He looked tired, so I gave him a cup of coffee.” He looked around, hunching his shoulders and lowering his voice. “I figure he was out late catching varmints, fell asleep after eating the first time, and just got up. Maybe he’s too tired to remember he was already here.” His eyes strayed to the counter. He licked his lips. “You got enough of them pies?”

  “Enough for dinner and supper and still leave a piece or two for a hungry young man,” she said. Billy gave her a woeful look that said he hadn’t eaten for days. She laughed. “You had oatmeal and bacon not two hours ago.”

  “So did Mr. Gibson, and he ate lots more than me. I just asked Doc about all that eatin’. He said maybe he had a tapeworm.”

  Doc and Sheriff Barstow knew about Sophie covering room and board for Maxwell Gibson while he investigated Mr. Isaac and Frederick Smythe, both lowdown men
who had harmed the citizens of Tanner’s Ford. Max hadn’t yet given them any information on Isaac in return for all his meals. If he didn’t get going soon, she and Lily would have to do something. Sophie would do anything to catch the beast who’d beaten and raped Molly Sinclair and Sarah Unsworth, now Mrs. Luke Frost.

  “Uh, Miz Sophie? Should I bring him another plate?”

  She was furious with Max last night, but this morning was different. He was six feet of broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Except for the day they met and last night, he kept himself under tight control. When he smiled last night, he looked even more handsome.

  Her temper rose to match her burning face. She would give him one more chance. If he smiled and flirted at her like he had that first time, she’d try again. But a bit of charm wasn’t going to pay her bills.

  “He won’t be having a free second breakfast today, Billy.” She removed her kitchen apron, smudged where she’d wiped her fingers, and put on the crisp white one she used in the dining room. “He’s going to pay for the extra food or go without.”

  She wrapped her hand in a cloth, grabbed the coffeepot, and headed out to do battle. He sat at the far side of the room. She gave him her usual pleasant hotelkeeper smile. He did not return it. In fact, he glared.

  Mr. Maxwell Gibson may not realize it, but he’d just declared war.

  She raised her chin and looked away. Since she’d been so busy in the kitchen with Mary off, she hadn’t had a decent visit with the regulars. She’d fill the cups of everyone else first. Making Gibson wait was petty, but it gave her time to get up her nerve. It also gave her a bit of satisfaction. If he’d smiled, he’d be drinking coffee already. She paused at the first table.

  “Doc, how’s Rosa? Stomach still troubling her in the mornings?”