Authors: Robin L. Rotham
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Hake asked, joining him at the gate. Even from here, he could see there was still ground corn in the feed bunks, which meant he could move in the self-feeders anytime. Mandy’d be thrilled spitless to hear her days of carrying thirty pails of feed twice a day were just about over.
One of the heifers tried to mount up on a steer and a smile tickled the corners of Hake’s mouth. If Mandy were out here, she’d exclaim for the hundredth time, “See!
Even the cattle know gender roles aren’t cast in stone.”
She’d grown up in San Francisco, and though she thought rural America was a great place to raise a kid, sometimes the pervasive intolerance drove her right up a wall.
There wasn’t much she could do about the way folks around here thought, but she’d done her level best to adjust
his
attitude over the years and she’d made sure they raised their son to be more accepting of different lifestyles.
“You said three-way,” Brent said. “What are you supposed to be doing while Joe and I double-team your wife?”
Heat rose in Hake’s neck. “Watching. Like I said, I’m not much good for anything else these days.”
Brent finally gave him a dubious grin. “Watching, huh? And Mandy’s okay with that?”
“Well, I haven’t—”
“In other words, no.”
“We’ve talked about it,” Hake said quickly. “Just not about you and Joe specifically.
To tell you the truth, we’ve toyed with the idea of a trip to the Maverick Ranch and I really think she’s game, but…”
“That’s your fantasy, not hers,” Brent finished.
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“Right. Women are the only item on the menu at the Maverick Ranch, which is a damn shame.” Hake huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he tucked his hands tighter into his jacket pockets. “Hell, I can’t believe I said that.
It’s just a damn shame there’s no
male prostitutes for my wife to fuck at the Maverick Ranch
.”
“Mandy ain’t your daddy’s farm wife,” Brent said with a big grin.
“You can say that again.” Hake looked at him seriously. “I really think she’d be up for this. I’ve seen her checking out your ass.”
Brent’s brows rose. “Really? ‘Cause I’ve checked hers out a few times.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Hake said dryly.
“So what are we talking about here? There’s a lot three people can do together.”
“Well, probably everything you can fit into one night.”
“You ever fucked her ass?”
Hake narrowed his eyes. Under any other circumstances, he’s have put his cousin’s lights out for asking a question like that. Instead, he drawled, “Yeah.”
“She likes it?”
“I wouldn’t do it if she didn’t.”
Brent’s gaze never wavered. “You ever put anything in there while you’re fucking her pussy—I mean, like fingers or a toy?”
Hake closed his eyes and counted to five before pinning him with another stare.
“Yes, damn it.”
“So why now? Why me and Joe?”
The answer to that simple question was long and complicated, and Hake wasn’t sure he could explain it. Brent’s tales of their erotic exploits on the road had made him think his wife would be in talented hands. Safe hands, too, because Brent had mentioned during one of their after-dinner chats, after Mandy disappeared upstairs to write, that Joe had gotten him in the habit of being tested every year.
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Hake had done a mental double-take at that revelation and then blushed like a schoolgirl. It should have been obvious that a couple of ladies’ men like Brent and Joe needed to get tested regularly, but for some reason, he’d always assumed only gay guys did, and for a minute there, he’d envisioned Joe Remke bending his cousin over the end of a bed, banging the hell out of his ass. The way his damn cock had jumped was disconcerting—Mandy hadn’t adjusted his attitude
that
much, for Christ’s sake.
No doubt Brent would deck him for thinking he and Joe could possibly be gay.
Hake wanted to deck himself for being the least bit interested in the possibility.
“I trust you guys,” he finally said, though he wasn’t sure exactly how far. “And since I busted my leg, she’s been taking up the slack, doing what chores she can, and I just…” He sighed, rubbing the chilled skin on the back of his neck. “Well, I want her to have something better to remember from this whole crappy fall than me hanging around the place being useless, you know?
“But it’s only gonna happen once,” he concluded firmly, “and afterward, we’re gonna pretend it never happened.”
“Since I only stop in here once in a coon’s age, that shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’d be a fool not to.”
Hake let out a breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding. For better or worse, he’d done what he set out to do, and now his wife was finally going to get what she deserved—a night of fantasy sex with two guys who understood what she wanted and were more than able to give it to her.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
“Hey, I should be thanking you,” Brent laughed.
Ignoring the twinge of apprehension in his gut, Hake said, “Damn straight.” The guys had no clue how lucky they were about to get. Mandy was hell on wheels between 12
Carnal Harvest
the sheets.
He’d
be lucky if they didn’t decide to pack her up and take her along when they left. “Oh, and there’s something else,” he added. “She has another fantasy that kind of goes along with this one, but only if you’re both willing.”
When Brent arched a brow, he continued, “It’s something we’ve done together a couple of times, and it’s actually pretty damn hot.”
“Could you just spill it already?”
“First, do you know anything about safety words?”
* * * * *
Her breasts heaved with excitement as Alexandre shoved his thick, musky cock against her
lips. She pressed them shut, challenging her captors.
Jordan rose to the occasion. Grasping her jaw between his hard fingers, he put pressure on
the joint even as Alexandre’s cock ground her lips against her teeth.
“Open your mouth, Gwen,” he growled. “His cock’s got an appointment with your tonsils.”
When she refused to open, he gave her nipple a vicious pinch. Her yelp allowed Alexandre to
slide between her lips, and slide he did, barreling into her mouth like a log down the chute.
Holding her skull firmly, he powered to the back of her throat, deliberately inciting her gag reflex
before pulling back.
Then he shoved in deep again, and this time rough fingers pulled her buttocks apart, making
her squirm—
“Hey, Mandy!”
Mandy slapped down the lid of her laptop with a gasp as heat rushed into her cheeks. Brent Andersen didn’t need to know that one of the smokin’ hot men in her ménage was a military version of him. Or that the other bore a strong resemblance to his friend Joe.
“Be right down, Brent!” she called, pushing away from her desk. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked about like she usually did—like a middle-aged farm 13
Robin L. Rotham
wife. Cursing the dry air, she smoothed her flyaway blonde pageboy with her palms and then felt kind of guilty for primping.
Hey, you’d do the same if the UPS guy was down there!
Yeah, but your heart wouldn’t be thumping like this.
She tugged at her sweater anyway, wishing she’d picked a baggier one. The pale green V-neck hugged every hill and valley, which would have been a plus if it was just Hake around. He thought she was beautiful even when she had to switch to her winter jeans. Pitching hay and carrying all those pails of feed to the bunks twice a day since his accident had ensured that she still fit in her skinny summer jeans, but nothing short of plastic surgery could completely eradicate her muffin top.
Get over yourself, silly!
Brent and Joe were probably just stopping in to say goodbye—they couldn’t care less whether she appeared downstairs in a tiara and formal gown or curlers and a muumuu.
That didn’t keep her from turning around and checking out her own backside in the full-length mirror behind the door. Just to make sure there were no indecent holes in this pair of jeans, of course. Now that she and Hake had been alone on the farm for a couple of years, she’d gotten a little less concerned with appearances. She used to shower and dress first thing every morning while Ryan was growing up, but now she tended to stay in her pajamas unless she was going somewhere. Well, except during harvest, when hired hands had a way of stopping in when she least expected them.
Otherwise, no one but Hake saw her, so what was the point of changing clothes?
She twisted slightly to the side, loving the way her new bra shaped her smallish breasts. She’d finally broken down and bought a water bra a few weeks ago, and wow, had it made a difference. Hake had noticed, too, but he hadn’t been in the mood to do anything about it yet.
The way he eyed her at lunch, she’d thought that might be about to change, but she’d thought wrong. All he did was push away from the table and head for the shower, saying he had business to attend to. Darn it. Her toys had been fun when they 14
Carnal Harvest
were just supplements to an already spectacular sex life, but now that they’d been her mainstays for so many months, they were getting old fast. She missed feeling Hake’s big, hard hands all over her body and his big, hard cock between her legs. If he didn’t come back to life soon, she was going to have to mothball her laptop. It was just too frustrating to get all revved up writing erotica and have nowhere to go with all the pent-up sexual energy.
Sighing, she turned off the faux-Tiffany floor lamp and went downstairs. Even though they’d eaten less than an hour ago, her stomach growled at the tantalizing aroma of pot roast drifting from the slow cooker.
Turning the corner into the living room, she came to an abrupt halt and her jaw dropped. “Hake?”
He sat in one of the ladder-back dining chairs, his dark brown hair still damp, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. Brent and Joe, apparently freshly showered themselves, crouched beside him. It looked like they were securing his hands to the armrests with…her dishtowels?
“What’s going on?” she asked warily.
Hake’s smile was reassuring. “Just say ‘Ride ‘em, cowboy’, honey.”
His words drove all the air from her lungs, and her eyes flew to Brent, who tightened the last knot and stood up.
Laying a hand on Hake’s shoulder, he gave her a stern look and said, “This here’s a holdup, ma’am. Just do what you’re told, and nobody’s gonna get hurt.”
Every muscle in her body tensed as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing and hearing. Two men were tying up her already incapacitated husband, and he was telling her to say their personal code for “fuck me ‘til I scream”.
Oh God, the very idea of what might be about to happen sent sharp tingles between her legs. Hake wouldn’t do this…would he?
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“Just a cotton pickin’ minute,” she said in a quivery voice, knowing he would pick up on the signal.
“It’s okay, Mandy,” he told her softly, his brown eyes all liquid warmth. “You need this.”
“No, I don’t,” she said weakly. She didn’t
need
it. Want it, maybe. And she definitely could use a good, hard romp in bed. But this…
“Sure you do.”
She stared at him, biting her lips. Bound to a dining chair, backlit by the afternoon sun streaming in through the white sheers, and smiling benevolently, her husband looked like some kinky fallen angel trying to lure her to the dark side. Which was weird, since she kind of felt like she’d lured
him
there in the last couple of years.
“Are you going to play, too?”
His smile turned to a wry grin. “You know I’m not up for adventurous sex yet, sweetheart. I’ll be here, watching every move they make, but this is strictly for you.”
An uncomfortable tangle of anticipation and anxiety tightened in Mandy’s tummy.
She and Hake sometimes talked late at night about doing something like this, but never without him in an active role. How was this going to affect their relationship? She’d love some kinky sex, but not at the expense of her marriage. “I don’t know.”
“Honey, this is the only way I can give you what you need right now.”
She almost crossed her eyes at him. Hake had this insane idea that if he couldn’t pound her into the mattress on a daily basis, he was no good to her. His ego, already bruised from operating the farm at a loss for the last couple of years, had taken a real beating since he rolled the ATV, and his depression seemed to be getting worse. After his pelvis and leg had healed enough, he let her ride him a couple of times, and up until a few weeks ago, he’d been more than willing to use her toys on her. But lately he wouldn’t even let her go down him, and when she tried, he didn’t get hard.
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Talk about a vicious cycle—less sex led to more depression, which led to even less sex, which led to even
more
depression…
Maybe this was Hake’s way of finally trying to snap out of his extended funk and get their marriage back on track, but if so, he was going about it the wrong way. It was up to her to see that things went the
right
way.
“Fine,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay, then you know what to say.”
Mandy took a deep breath and said, “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”
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Robin L. Rotham
“I’m glad you decided to cooperate, little lady,” Brent drawled, his heavy work boots thumping softly on the carpet as he stalked toward her.
If he didn’t look so threatening, Mandy would have giggled. Brent might have been from Kansas, but he didn’t usually sound like he’d just stepped out of an episode of
Gunsmoke
.
“And we’ll start lookin’ for the loot…” He unbuttoned his blue flannel shirt while he ran brazen eyes over her body. “Just as soon as me ‘n’ Joe have had ourselves a little fun. Now take off that shirt, and be quick about it. I want to see those tits you’ve been jigglin’ in my face for the last couple of weeks.”