What She Wants
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
Roughstock: What She Wants
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright
©
2012 by BA Tortuga
Cover illustration by BSClay
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-402-0
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: December 2012
For those of y'all following the Roughstock series, What She Wants falls during season two. As it is, I write cowboys as I know them—with all their faults and foibles and weird grammar. All errors are mine and I own them proudly.
Thanks for reading. Readers are what make the world go round. Hee-yaw, y'all!
BA Tortuga
Dedicated to Julia, who dared me to write a contemporary western ménage that made sense to her and who makes my life a place of joy. I hope I did you proud. I love you. BA
Roughstock—What She Wants
BA Tortuga
The bed was a little too soft, but Adrian didn't mind. He had something warm and hard to curl up to, and he shifted closer to Packer, his traveling partner. That hard hip and wide chest gave him plenty of purchase to keep him from sinking into the mattress too far.
Smiling when Packer shifted closer, Adrian pushed a hand down the length of Packer's torso, loving the width of the fuzzy chest and the ridged beauty of the most underrated belly in bullriding.
He hummed, wrapping his fingers around Packer's rising prick and tugging.
"Morning, you. Did you make the coffee?" Adrian asked. He could smell it, acrid and somehow dark brown, as if the smell itself had a color.
"Naw. I been sleepin'." Still mostly asleep, Packer’s Aussie accent was thick as late-summer pond water.
Adrian raised his head, frowning a little. "Did it have a timer?"
Packer grunted softly, tugged him in closer, hips moving the heavy cock through his fingers.
"Mmm." He forgot all about the coffee, that velvety skin covering the hardest prick ever making him a little distracted and a lot horny. Adrian started kissing his way down, wanting to give it a fine good morning.
Packer was all for it, too. Adrian could tell. Jesus, he loved the way those tight abs rolled and jerked.
He licked a little at Packer's belly button, his fingers working the extra skin at the tip of Packer's cock. He loved that foreskin, found it fascinating. Packer moaned low and arched, bowing up toward him, the sheet falling away. Adrian laughed a little, blowing air on the tip of Packer's cock before pushing the foreskin back and licking at the head. Salty. Damn.
"Oh, now. That's pretty." A camera flash went off, blinding him.
Adrian shot up on the bed, Packer grunting when Adrian's hand landed hard on his belly. "What the fuck!"
"Oh, don't stop on my account, boys."
Oh.
Oh, Jesus.
Oh, fucking hell.
He knew that voice. Adrian looked over and saw Calleigh, his wife, sitting on the chair, a cup of coffee in one hand, a camera in the other.
Packer rose up on both elbows, staring past him. "Well, hullo Calleigh. What brings you to Des Moines?"
One red eyebrow arched, and Calleigh smiled, slow and wicked. "I got tired of waiting at home for someone to give me some attention, honey."
Adrian was completely speechless. His cock wilted. Packer's didn't.
Bright green eyes met his. She was made up -- eyes and lips and everything -- and she was a fucking wet dream, or would have been if she hadn't been an evil bitch. "I told you, I'm not waiting for you anymore, Adrian. I've been taking pictures for about an hour. If you want me to come along on the road, I'll clear out the memory card. Otherwise, I'll take them to Ace. It's totally up to you."
His mouth opened and closed like a landed fish's. "Come along?"
"Yes. Twelve years we've been together and I've never traveled farther than downtown Dallas with you. I'm done. I want in. I want to play, too."
"Play..." Adrian felt like a parrot. Calleigh wanted to play. She was a hard-working nurse. Lost job or no, he wasn't sure she knew the meaning of the word play.
"You heard me. I'll give you time to figure yourself out." She stood and he saw her, like it was a dream. Jesus, she was in the tiniest little leather skirt and boots up to there and a tiny, lacy top. "I'm going to get some more coffee. If you want, I'll buy you both breakfast."
"Give us half an hour," Packer said, hands holding Adrian back when he would have gone after her.
"No hurry." Calleigh turned and walked out, heels clicking on the floor.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Packer turned him, a little rough, a little too fast, that beautiful mouth crashing down on his in a hard kiss.
Wait? What?
His head spun and he groaned, trying to figure out what the fuck was happening here.
Packer kissed him until he couldn't breathe, until his cock wasn't just hard again, it was ready to go off like a rocket. Then the man chose to break for air, that amazing smile right there in front of his swimming eyes.
"I swear, Chook, you never told me your wife could be so fucking hot. I might just have to punish you for that."
Christ. His heart slammed in his chest, and Adrian wondered when he'd lost control of his life so completely.
He was so utterly fucked.
***
Okay.
Okay.
Jesus.
Calleigh stared at her hands, her fingers shaking violently.
She'd done it. She'd done it.
It had been six months since they'd restructured the cardiac department and she'd taken the chance to leave. Six months of spa treatments and personal trainers, shopping and researching, and figuring out how to save her marriage.
If it was savable.
Hell, to find out if it was.
All she knew for sure was that she wasn't going to spend the rest of her life working eighteen-hour shifts in Dallas.
She didn't want to spend her whole life without Adrian, either. They'd been so young when they'd gotten married. So different. Still, even though she knew he had this whole other life without her, she didn't want to lose him.
And if it didn't work, at least she was trying, pulling out all the stops. Now all she had to do was keep on like she'd started out.
She sat with her coffee for twenty-five minutes, and she was starting to think she was going to get stood up when Adrian came out of the lobby elevator with Packer, both of them dressed, but a little mussed.
Calleigh kept her face schooled, smooth. No stress. No worry. Hold out.
Adrian tried a smile, but it trembled and slid away before it fully formed. "Hullo, baby girl."
"Hey, cowboy. Packer. Are y'all hungry?" She wasn't going to be a child, damn it. She could do this. Adrian had always been honest about his relationship with Packer. She ought to be able to pull this off.
"We are." Packer bent to kiss her cheek, and it made her face heat like crazy. She'd met him, sure, but he'd never really paid her any attention. Not like this.
She stood, letting herself be right in Packer's personal space. "Excellent. Come on."
They followed her like a pair of alley cats, Adrian slinking with his head down like he was in trouble. Packer was more... prowly.
She kept her chin up, boobs out, focusing on swaying her hips like Jeannie in Zumba class had taught her. They got settled, and she would swear Adrian was flushed a little. He'd given her that look a lot, once upon a time.
The waitress smiled at her. "The special today is blueberry pancakes and eggs Benedict."
Gag.
"Thanks. Can I have a small glass of orange juice, please? I bet the boys want coffee."
"Yeah. And some juice for both of us, too, yeah?" Packer smiled, and the waitress blinked. Packer had that effect on folks. His looks were misleading, his features rough, not quite matching until he smiled.
Calleigh met Adrian's eyes, forced herself not to feel guilty. Adrian could've asked her to come a hundred times, a thousand. Adrian hadn't even come home in nine months. If he didn't love her anymore, she needed to know.
"You look good." Adrian tapped his fingers against the table, leg bouncing under it.
"Thank you." She held his eyes. "You weren't half bad this morning either."
Now she knew he was blushing; his cheeks went nuclear red. Packer just hooted.
Come on. Come on, Calleigh. Strong. Sexy. Sure. "And you passed inspection, I think," she told Packer.
"You think so?" Packer just reached out and patted her hand. "I'm waiting for us to get the chance to do an inspection in return, yeah?"
"If you're good." She hoped she was going a better job of hiding her blush than Adrian. "If y'all decide to let me come play, of course." Not that she'd left Adrian much of a choice.
"Calleigh, what's going on?" Adrian just blurted it out finally, which actually relieved her. That he wanted to know. "You've never wanted to be a traveling wife."
Traveling was better than sitting alone at home and getting old. "I told you. I'm young, I'm alive, and I'm tired of waiting for you to remember where the house is."
"I... You were never home when I was anyway." Adrian couldn't make it an accusation, staring down at his hands, his ears red. She wasn't sure he was even trying to make it one. They were pretty messed up. God, this was a terrible fucking mistake.
For real.
Somehow, in her head, it'd been daring and hot and wild and a way to get Adrian's attention. Sitting here in this restaurant, it felt way more like blackmailing your husband and his lover.
His lover who was more sexual just sitting there than she was all dolled up and wiggling.
Jesus.
Calleigh lifted her chin and stared him down, refusing to show how bad she wanted to just turn and run. "That doesn't matter. I'm here now. Fucking deal with it."
"Aw now, luv. Don't get all defensive. You've just given the lad a shock, is all. We can work with this."
Wait. Was that the toe of Packer's boot against her ankle? "I'm not looking to interfere. I just want to come along." She was so fucking lonely, so bored. "Play, if you're interested."
"Play." Adrian blinked at her. "I-- who are you? I mean, not that I don't want to play with you." He kind of looked surprised that he'd said that.
"Adrian, I realize that you haven't seen me in almost a year, but you ought to remember me." She was going for playful, but she sort of meant it.
"I do! You wear ponytails and scrubs and you hate heels." Oh, there was pouty Adrian. She almost smiled. It might be okay.
"I haven't worn my scrubs in a long time."
The waitress brought the drinks, asked for their orders.
"I want the fruit plate, please."
"Do you serve the whole menu all day?” When the waitress nodded, Packer hooted. “The great American burger for him and the pork chop platter for me, please. Ranch on the salad." Packer ordered for both of the guys, then put his chin on his hands. "So, what are your demands, luv?"
"I thought I was pretty clear upstairs." She winked at Packer. Of course, she didn't know if she could sleep with him, or if that was part of the deal or what, but... Yeah.
"That's it? Just, 'let me come'? I mean, you have to use what you have, luv."
"Shut up." Adrian whacked Packer.
She chuckled, sipped her coffee. "I'm not looking for a pity fuck. I'm tired of being alone. We've been married for eight years, and you haven't even tried to come home since Christmas. You rode in Austin, even."
Adrian shook his head, biting his lip a moment. "I didn't know what to say, baby. I wasn't sure you'd want me to."
Calleigh stared for a second, and she sort of knew that she'd fucked up. Bad. "Did you even think about it?"
"I did. I have." Those bright green eyes met hers, and he tried that smile again. "This is messed up, huh?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it is." And the guy she'd been in love with for ten years couldn't even smile at her anymore. She grabbed her purse, pulled out the camera, three twenties, and slipped off her wedding ring. She put the camera and the rest on the table. "I wouldn't have really messed up your career, you know. It was less desperate and needy in my head, more sexy and fun."
She got up and walked out, her boot heels clacking on the tile. It felt a little cool, really. Just to walk off without saying goodbye. She told herself that all the way to the twentieth floor, and it kept her from crying the whole way.
***
"
Are you mad, Adrian?"
"Huh?" Adrian turned to stare at Packer, his gut churning. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you just let your wife walk off and leave her ring. She's something else." Packer had gone from smiling and at ease with Calleigh to growly in a heartbeat.
"She is." He actually grinned a little, sort of, then he touched her ring. It was still warm. And tiny. God, he didn't think he'd ever looked at it up close. That killed the smile. "Maybe it's for the best."
"Why? You hate her? She's a bitch?"
"What? No. No, she just..." He shrugged. They'd stopped talking somehow. She worked eighty hours a week; he was on the road. She had a stressful career and the house in the suburbs and all; he had Packer and the rides. "She lives a different life."
He didn't hate her. Hell, he didn't really know her anymore.
"Well, it looks like she wants to live yours, now. She's a looker, too." Packer went from growly to... slinky, maybe. Hot as hell. Packer was good at that.
"Yeah. She looks different." She looked like... whoa. He didn't think she knew how to walk in heels that high.
"I noticed. She never looked like that the few times I met her. Not a bit of it. She's working it hard, Adrian. She wants you back."