Acres, Natalie - Sex Club [Cowboy Sex 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (11 page)

“How do you know?”

“I was listening, damn it!” He pointed to the phone and shook his head. Sometimes he wondered how Bailey had survived several years without him. “Some chick claims Ansley went to bed with her husband. She told Ansley she wants to ‘put a bullet’ where she was wounded years ago.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Bailey said dismissively. “You know how women are. Ansley probably hooked up with the guy before he met his current wife. The dumb bastard made the mistake of mentioning Ansley’s name. Now she’s a lonely housewife. To pass the time, she calls up his old lovers and bullies them.”

“I don’t think so,” Tristan said. “She didn’t sound like she was kidding.”

“I’ll ask Ansley about it,” Bailey said.

“No. Don’t do that. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”

“You don’t want to tell her you were on the phone?”

“Hell no,” Tristan replied. “She’s looking for a reason to fire me.”

“You’re right,” Bailey said. “She wouldn’t take kindly to you eavesdropping.”

Tristan took a deep breath. “I’m afraid Ansley’s caller wasn’t pulling any punches. Evidently, she pissed off one crazy bimbo.”

“I can see Ansley doing that.”

“Yeah,” Tristan admitted. “Unfortunately, I can, too.”

Chapter Four

Ten Hours Later

“You have a call on line one,” Bailey informed Ansley, right as she approached the bar.

“I’ll take it in the back,” she said, practically screaming over the noise level found in the busy bar.

“You might want to grab it out here,” Bailey suggested.

She ignored him. Bailey had been acting suspicious all afternoon. He was annoyingly protective, acting as if he were her bodyguard rather than her bartender. She wondered if he’d overheard any of her earlier conversation with that quack job.

Rather than worry about Bailey, she hurried to the office and flipped on the light. Slamming the door behind her, she reached for the phone. At the same time, someone hit the switch.

“What the hell?” she said in a quivering voice.

The room was dark. She reached for the switch panel and missed. Right as she started to scream a large hand covered her mouth.

“I wouldn’t holler for help if I were you. If you do, I’ll fuck you where you stand.”

Ansley relaxed as soon as she heard the voice behind her. God help her. This was why she loved the nights when the Killian clan paid her club a visit. She shivered with the thought of how many different ways Elliott and Graham Killian might make good on such a seductive promise.

Two palms gripped her hips, moving her against one finely erect cock, one covered in denim but eager and ready all the same. She squirmed a little and pretended to resist.

Elliott and Graham never kept up their little act long enough to make her grovel. Then again, it had been a year since their last sexual encounter. A few minutes of this and she’d be damp and uncomfortable, prepared to bribe or barter for a quick fuck.

Elliott removed his hand and at the same time turned her chin toward her shoulder, where he smothered her lips with a bruising kiss. She’d know those full, moist lips anywhere. His tongue plunged inside her mouth on a search for adventure, and she moaned aloud. Collapsing in his arms, she allowed him the opportunity to maneuver her body in an arousing manner guaranteed to entice, certain to please.

“Hiya, baby,” Graham said, flipping the light on again before approaching them. At the same time, Elliott released her. Ansley’s gaze shifted from one Killian brother back to another.

“Miss us, did ya?”

“Of course she did,” Elliott assured him, swiping her hair off to the side and kissing her nape with more tongue than mouth.

“I wondered how long it would take the two of you to find your way home,” she whispered, resisting the urge to strip down to her thong and beg for a wild, thrashing fuck.

“We’ve been busy,” Graham said. “But don’t think we haven’t thought of you.”

“Every day,” Elliott growled, moving his hands under her silk shirt and pinching her nipples as the hard nubs pierced the black lace bra he’d probably soon rip to shreds.

Graham worked the bottom half of her two-piece outfit over her hips. Elliott took only a moment to disrobe before he helped her shrug away from her top layers.

Dropping to his knees, Graham pulled the skirt free of her ankles as she kicked aside her open-toed shoes. He licked her right knee, dragging his tongue across the bone as he kissed his way up her inner thigh.

These fellows sure knew how to distract a working woman. “Welcome home, guys.”

“Hmm, baby. I’ve missed you,” Graham crooned.

By the time Graham maneuvered his way up her leg, she was as wet and ready as she’d ever been. “I see you two still don’t like to waste time,” she purred, throwing her head against Elliott’s shoulder.

“You were missed,” Elliott assured her again, rocking against her body. “I haven’t taken a woman to bed once when I didn’t think of you.”

“Such a romantic,” she grumbled, pushing aside the hurt feelings in order to enjoy the moment. She wouldn’t allow her heart to break. When they didn’t invite her on their road trip, she decided she wouldn’t give them the power to destroy her again. Never in a million years.

“He’s lying, too,” Graham said. “Neither one of us has been in bed with a gal since you left our place mad as a wet hen nearly a year ago.”

“Don’t dig up bad memories,” she snapped, remembering why she’d abandoned them that cool June morning. They’d spent six weeks together. Their relationship was a budding romance. She foolishly believed they would ask her to go to San Antonio when they went out west to settle their mother’s estate. When they didn’t, she’d cried, wept like an overgrown baby, but when she finally recuperated from her broken heart, she was stronger, more prepared to face the world and all the self-centered men residing there.

“Why not?” Graham asked, blowing a stream of hot air across her mound. “You become a feisty little vixen when things don’t go your way.”

“I like it, too,” Elliott admitted, pinching her nipples.

“Oh God,” she rasped as Elliott’s large hands locked over her breasts.

“There we go,” Graham said, dipping his fingers between her folds. “Now you hold on, sweetheart. We’re here to kiss and make up.”

“Mmm yes,” she whispered. “I can forgive and forget.”

“I hope so.” Graham cupped her behind and drew her pussy to his lips. His tongue strummed against her clit and he sighed. Clutching her ass with more determination, he slammed her mound against his face and lapped at her warm juices, her womanly spice.

“We’re set to make up for lost lovin’,” Elliott promised, nipping at her ear.

Throwing her arm behind her head, she played with Elliott’s curly locks, the silken strands sweeping well below his nape. He’d recently showered. He smelled like that expensive aftershave she loved, and she could only imagine where he might have dabbed a few dots of the rich fragrance.

About the time Graham dragged his forefinger through her folds, another row of lights beamed brightly overhead. The additional bulbs shone in her eyes.

Without a knock to warn them or a vocal announcement, Tristan traipsed inside the office and slammed the door behind him. “Is this a private party, or can any cowboy sign up for riding lessons?” He gaped at Graham. “Apparently you offer beginner classes.”

“What the fuck?” Elliott’s head jerked so fiercely that his shoulder-length hair fanned around him as if the locks were picked up by a wild wind stirring a sudden commotion.

Graham locked his arms around Ansley’s body and yanked her against him, tucking her small frame under his larger form. He glared at Tristan with pure hot-blooded rage tainting his skin. “You need something, bartender?”

“Yeah, cowboy,” Tristan replied smoothly. “The woman. I want her. Hand her over.”

Ansley’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but that was short-lived. The blistering heat between her legs soon gave her confidence. She quickly reached a conclusion. If Tristan interrupted them, he was there for a reason. He wanted to join in and play a little, too.

She wouldn’t complain.

Tristan rapidly pursued Ansley and grabbed her by the upper arm, probably the only place he could locate given the fact Graham hovered over her. He literally pulled her away from Graham’s protective limbs. “We need some help out front. Ansley here has the keys to the cash register.”

Graham snarled. “Show some manners! Let her get dressed, for God’s sake.”

Tristan’s eyes skimmed across her body, and for the first time ever—particularly in Clink, a club known for exhibitionism—Ansley felt exposed. She’d stood naked in front of a hard male’s blistering gaze in the past, but this was somehow different.

Tristan’s eyes frightened her. His unsettled gaze held a spark of hostility. No man in his right mind would test his strength by challenging him.

His eyes also held a spark of something similar to fury, and that anger was directed at Ansley. She also saw hurt, and perhaps a touch of envy, too.

One minute Tristan looked like a powerful Dom, hungry and possessive, on the search for a sub he needed to train. And the very next second, he appeared to soften. He looked like a passionate lover anxious to protect the woman he loved.

Ah, fuck
. She was reading far too much into this. Snapping out of her romanticized moment, she glared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Get your clothes on,” he barked. “You, too,” he said to the Killian brothers.

“You can’t just barge in here and tell me what to do!” Ansley yelled, twisting and turning.

Behind her, the Killian brothers went for their clothes, gathering their boots and jeans, shirts and hats. That alone surprised her. Then again, she couldn’t blame them. If she were in their shoes, she wouldn’t butt heads with Tristan. At the moment, he looked frightening.

Bullshit. She couldn’t wait to start a fight. Someone needed to put Tristan in his place. She was woman enough to handle Mr. Tristan Voorhees.

“I will not be told what to do,” she announced, straightening her shoulders.

Tristan copped a sarcastic smile. “Why don’t I tell you what will happen if you refuse to mind me?”

Oh, surely he didn’t just say that!
Ansley stamped her foot.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Surprised? Angry? Downright ready for a mud-slinging brawl?” Tristan taunted her. “Get used to doing things my way, Ansley. Otherwise, you and I may have a problem.”

“May? My ass! You do have a problem. And I’m not sure why you suddenly think I should care what you think, much less—what was it you said—oh yes, mind you? Ha! That’s a barrel of laughs, buster. We spent less than an hour in the freezer earlier. Now, you what? Think you somehow own me?”

Graham snickered. “Buddy, you’d better catch on a little quicker than the average fella. Nobody possesses that sweet slice of pussy for longer than an eight-second ride. Elliott tried. I tried. We both failed. You ain’t gonna fare any differently.”

Ansley’s heart skipped a beat with Graham’s revelation. Apparently she was slower than the average turtle. She knew the Killian brothers cared about her, but as far as pursuing her for a long-term love interest, she never would’ve guessed. After all, they left her when they went to San Antonio. Two different times, they came home unannounced. She was out of town during both visits. If they’d cared about her, wouldn’t they have called ahead and given her some advance notice?