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Knockin’ Boots

Copyright © 2015 by Desiree Holt

ISBN: 978-1-61333-792-9

Cover art by Syneca Featherstone

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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Knockin’ Boots

By

Desiree Holt

A Beyond Fairytales Adaptation of

The Brothers Grimm’s:

The Boots of Buffalo Leather

Dedication

To Slick Reads, whose friendship means more than I can say, and to Margie Hager, who keeps me on the straight and narrow.

Prologue

The day has been a long and dusty one, moving several hundred head of cattle to the summer grazing pastures. The unrelenting sun is finally heading toward the horizon, painting the meadows and trees with a patina of gold. The sounds of the cattle lowing carry all the way to the ranch house and the barns. Horses are wiped down, fed, and watered and now nicker softly in their stalls, glad to rest after a day chasing errant cows.

The cowboys are tired, hungry, and thirsty, ready for a hot meal and a cold beer. They drink greedily from the cool water pouring from a hose and wet their bandanas to wipe away the layers of trail dust. Extra hands brought in to help with the chores gather at picnic tables beneath a stand of mature oaks, ready for a hearty chuck wagon meal.

A man stands at the outdoor grills, serving up chili and cornbread and pithy comments. He is just over five feet tall, wizened in his worn plaid shirt and jeans, and boots that look older than he is. His beard is different shades of gray, matching his unruly hair, and on his head sits a hat that saw its better days years ago. No one knows how old he is or even where he came from. All they know is he showed up at the ranch one day, looking for work, and he’s been here ever since.

Everyone calls him Nick, although that may or may not be his real name. They just know he makes food fit for the gods and has stories to tell that capture the imagination. Tonight, as they chow down, the cowboys urge him to sit with them and take their minds off their aching bodies with one of his spicier stories. They’ve been on the range for a while, without women for a stretch as they’ve continued to point out, and want something to feed minds as hungry as their bodies.

Nodding, Nick pulls a pipe from his pocket—more a prop than anything since he no longer smokes it—and heads for the middle table. The hands still chowing down slide over to make room for him as he swings his slightly crooked legs over the bench to take a seat at the middle table.

“So ya want a story?” He looks around, satisfied at all the nods in his direction.

“A hot one,” someone calls out. “We ain’t had no women for a while.”

“Hmmm.” He bites down on the stem of the unlit pipe and frowns, his straggly gray brows drawing together. Scratches his chin. “Okay, then. Here’s one hotter than that chili ya got there.”

Leaning forward on his elbows, he begins.

“Once upon a time….”

Chapter One

Maybe this town will be the place. Maybe I’ll find peace here.

Maybe I’ll find a woman to help me get that peace.

But Clint Gorman had almost given up hope he’d find what he was looking for anywhere. As he rolled through state after state on his massive Ducati motorcycle, stopping in town after town, the sense of place he’d been looking for continued to elude him. So he mounted up and rode on. Maybe his problem was he carried his troubles with him, and everyone knew you couldn’t outrun trouble. It sat on your shoulder until you dealt it a final blow.

If only he could figure out how to do that.

A small town somewhere might offer what he needed. He’d thought, at first, he might like the environment of a big city, but after three tours of duty in Afghanistan, the noise and bustle were too much of an assault on his senses. Impulse had propelled him to spend a chunk of his saved-up pay on the gleaming black beast and head west. He had no destination in mind, other than someplace where he could find peace and a respite from the nightmares plaguing him.

A sign that said Whistling Creek, Texas Pop. 1023 popped into his line of sight. Those signs always made him wonder if someone actually counted heads to get the exact number. He roared into this little Texas town, pulled his motorcycle to the curb, shut off the ignition, and pushed the kickstand down with his foot. Removing his helmet, he raked his fingers through his sun-streaked, shaggy blond hair then sat for a moment, still straddling the bike, his eyes scanning the area.

Whistling Creek’s Main Street reminded him of a hundred others he’d cruised through since he left the East Coast, each with its own flavor. He took in the shops and businesses lining both sides of the street, the antique-looking lampposts, the benches carefully situated for shoppers to stop and gab for a while. The tubs of flowers adding color. The people leisurely strolling the sidewalks, as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

Clint inhaled deeply. Even in town, the Texas air smelled sweet and fresh, a far cry from the dust of Afghanistan or the gasoline-tinged air of the cities. Every area of the country he’d wound his way through on his bike had its own particular scent, but the perfume of Texas—a blend of grass, hay, cattle, and horses—had a soothing effect on him. God knew he needed it. Was it his imagination, or did the sun seem brighter here, the women more beautiful, the people friendlier.

As he sat there, letting the feel of Texas roll over him, an unfamiliar peace descended on him, a feeling he hadn’t had for too many years. Maybe he’d hang around for a while. Surely, even as small as it appeared, Whistling Creek had a motel of some kind.

Texas. He hadn’t expected to find the Lone Star ambience reaching out to him like this. Still, he’d ridden horses when he was younger and even owned a Stetson once, so maybe this little Texas town was the place he was looking for. Could he find relief from his nightmares here? Could this be the place he’d find the elusive peace he sought so desperately?

It would be nice if he could also find a woman to lose himself in, preferably one whose sexual tastes matched his. Who didn’t mind a little kink. He’d been without one for far too long, afraid his nightmares would descend on him at the wrong time. He was lonely, though. He’d cut his ties with everyone he knew when he left the East Coast, tired of their pity and sick of seeing everyone else’s perfect life. He wasn’t even sure anymore what he wanted, but he figured he’d know it if it came up and slapped him in the face.

He climbed off the bike and stretched his tall, rangy body, working out the kinks as he surveyed the scene around him. His attention was caught by a store directly across the street. The sign, hand carved, said The Bootery, and even from here, he could see the display of Western boots in the window. Years ago, when he was a kid—Really? He could recall that far back?—he and his friends had played Wild West. More than anything, he’d wanted a pair of fancy cowboy boots. Maybe it was time to indulge himself.

He stopped to study the display for a moment, mesmerized by the intricate design on some of the boots and the different shadings of the leather. Just do it, he told himself. When he opened the door, a bell rang over the lintel, and a man behind the counter looked up, a curious expression on his face. Another man stood there, paying for a purchase. Clint nodded and found a smile somewhere.

“Afternoon.” The man he assumed was the owner smiled at him. “Come on in. You looking for a pair of boots?”

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the small store, Clint debated leaving. Then he thought, What the hell.

“Yeah. Figured I’d give myself a treat.”

“Let me finish up with Dan here and I’ll take care of you. Meanwhile, have a look around.”

Clint liked the dark wood paneling lining the walls, the boots displayed on wooden shoe shelves. He saw the little metal signs indicating the best known brands—Tony Lama, Lucchese, Ariat, Frye. He picked up one in different shades of brown, the leather soft and supple in his hand.

The shopkeeper finished attending to business and came over to stand beside him. “You want them to ride a horse or that beast you parked across the street?”

Clint frowned. “Is there a difference?”

“Could be.” He came out from behind the counter. “Might have one that could do for both.” He held out his hand. “Paul Grady.”

Clint shook the proffered hand. “Clint Gorman. Saw your shop and decided to buy myself a present.”

“You staying around a while or just passing through?”

The customer holding his new purchase burst into a laugh. “Paul, you don’t need his pedigree to sell him a damn pair of boots.”

“Just being friendly,” Paul grumped. “Him being a stranger and all.”

Clint looked at the other man, nearly as tall as he was but leaner, with dark hair. “I guess strangers stick out here.”

“You know how small towns are.” Another handshake. “Dan Franklin. Welcome to town. If you’re looking for a good pair of boots, Paul can fix you up fine.”

Clint wasn’t surprised at how much went into selecting the proper Western boot. The same process applied to a really good motorcycle boot. Fit, comfort, durability, all major points. He had two pairs he’d spent a good bit of money on, but since he practically lived in them, they were worth the expense. He hoped he could say the same about the Luccheses Paul brought out for him to try on. Especially when he looked on the boxes and saw the price.

“It only hurts for a minute,” Dan joked when he saw where Clint was looking. “Trust me, good boots are worth every penny.”

And truly, once he slipped on the supple leather, stood, and walked around the store, he agreed. Just like his motorcycle boots, you got what you paid for. He finally settled on a pair that cost too much but felt too good not to buy. If he stayed in town for a few days, he’d have time to break them in.

Dan Franklin opened the door for him and followed him outside.

“It’s noon, and I’m about to grab a meal at Creekside Diner. How about letting me show you some local hospitality and buy you lunch?”

Clint stared at him. “Why would you want to do that?”

Dan shrugged. “You’re a traveler in town, you look like a nice guy, and I don’t like to eat alone.”

Clint lifted an eyebrow. “And you don’t have anyone else to eat with? I find that hard to believe. I’ll bet everyone in town knows you.”

Dan threw back his head and laughed. “Sometimes that’s the problem. Come on. I’m harmless, I promise.”

Clint hesitated a moment. Dan Franklin looked to be about his own age, thirty-five. He didn’t know the man from Adam, but something about him made Clint feel comfortable. At ease. Maybe his relaxed stance or the humor sparking in his eyes. Maybe his smile or the air of confidence he wore like a shirt. Hell, he hadn’t had a conversation with anyone but himself since he’d headed west. Besides, if he did decide to stay here awhile, it would be nice to know someone, especially someone who wasn’t aware of certain parts of his history.

“Sure,” he said at last. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

He waited while Dan climbed into his pickup at the curb then cranked up the beast and followed him along Main Street. They were almost out of the shopping district when Dan made a right turn, Clint right on his bumper. At the end of a short block sat a stone building with a wide front porch. The parking lot was pretty full, but they found space at the side of the building. Behind it, a short lawn sloped down to an actual creek bubbling along over a rocky bottom. The sound was so soothing, he wanted to stand there for a moment and let it wrap itself around him.

“So there really is a Whistling Creek,” he commented.

“Sure is.” Dan grinned. “Of course, I’ve never heard it whistle, but there are some old timers who say it does. Anyway, come on inside, and we’ll see if we can grab a table.”

They found a booth, tucked away in a corner, being cleared, and eased themselves into it. Clint took in his surroundings. It looked like every small-town restaurant he’d stopped in along the way—warm, welcoming, filled with people smiling and gabbing. In the others, he’d felt like such an outsider, but here, he had an immediate sense of belonging. What was it about this place, anyway? Had something been pulling him here all along?

Dan exchanged greetings with the waitress who handed them plastic-covered menus, and they ordered coffee.

“So.” Dan relaxed in his seat. “What brings you on the journey that landed you here? Looking for someplace to settle or just passing through?”

After the waitress filled two mugs, Clint picked his up and took a sip. “I’m not exactly sure how to answer.”

Dan studied him over the rim of his coffee mug. “Footloose and fancy free? No one waiting at home for you to get rid of the wanderlust?”

Clint had been very careful to watch his conversation with people at his other stops. Reveal little or nothing about himself. But he seemed to have an invisible link with the dark, quiet man sitting across from him. For the first time since he’d returned to the states, he was relaxed, at ease, a very unusual state for him.

“Three months ago, I finished my third tour in Afghanistan.” He fiddled with the spoon in front of him.

“A long stretch,” Dan commented. “Must have been really tough.”

Clint took another sip of coffee as he gathered his thoughts. “You could say that. Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

“So, you’re looking for, what, someplace to settle? No family waiting back home?”

“I needed to get away from everyone.” He looked directly at Dan across the table. “Too many questions, too much sympathy. Know what I mean?”

“I do.” He nodded then seemed content to wait for Clint to speak again.

The hum of chatter was loud enough their conversation wasn’t likely to be overheard, and that, too, helped Clint relax.

“I think I need a place to just park my bike for a while, where I can heal and get my brains together. I’m not sure I’m fit for civilian life yet.”

“Whistling Creek’s a nice place to hang out. You looking for work, by any chance?”

Clint shook his head. “Not at the moment. Leastways not until I know if I want to plant myself. I’ve got plenty of combat pay I haven’t spent, so I’m set for money.” He gave a half laugh. “What I’m really looking for is a woman.”

Damn it, Clint. You just met the guy.

Yet, already on this short acquaintance, Dan Franklin made him feel comfortable in his own skin, a most unusual sensation for him. And, damn it! Good, hot, kinky sex could really take his edge off.

“Well, I have to say, at least you put it out there.” Dan’s chuckle was low and deep. “Any special type or will anyone do?”

Before he could answer, the waitress materialized next to their booth.

“You guys decide what you want yet?”

They both ordered. Clint was still turning things over in his mind when she said, “Be out in just a few minutes.” She refilled their mugs and hurried off to put in their order.

Clint realized Dan was still watching him, waiting quietly for him to go on. Could he tell him what his tastes really were? What if the guy thought him a weirdo, got up and walked out? Well, as long as he didn’t punch his lights out Clint guessed he’d be no worse off than he was.

“I, uh, have some very specific tastes.” He looked down at his hands wrapped around his mug. “Some might even say kinky.”

Dan laughed again. “I think that term leaves a lot of room for interpretation. I’d say as long as there aren’t any animals in the mix or any type of mayhem, you’re entitled to do whatever you like.”

Clint raked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t even believe I’m talking about this with you, a total stranger.” And he couldn’t. Him, the most closemouthed man in the world.

“Sometimes those are the best people. So, what’s your deal, Clint? Bondage? Voyeurism? Ménage?”

He gave a brief nod of his head. “Yeah. All of it. Crazy, right?”

Dan didn’t say a word for a moment, and Clint’s stomach muscles knotted. Had he made a big mistake here? Yeah, probably should have kept his mouth shut. Wouldn’t he ever learn? He sat in silence while the waitress placed their food on the table, but he’d suddenly lost his appetite.

“Don’t let that great steak sandwich go to waste.” Dan pointed a french fry at him. “Anyway, you might need your strength.”

“To get on my bike and hightail it out of town?” He snorted. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.” When Dan just sat and watched him for a moment, chewing thoughtfully, he pushed his plate away and reached for his wallet. “Yeah, bad idea.”

“Sit.” Dan’s voice was sharp. “Like I said, eat your lunch.”

“But—”

“But you should never jump to conclusions. What is it people say about an accident of fate?” He grinned. “Oh, yeah, I think it was Napoleon who said there’s no such thing as an accident; it is fate misnamed.”

“First of all, Napoleon in Whistling Creek, Texas? Really?”

“At least I got something out of my college education besides a degree in agribusiness.”

“That what you do for a living?” Clint asked.

“Sort of. Got a little piece of property outside of town. So, bringing up the kinky stuff was first. What’s second?”

“Second, are you trying to say it’s fate I ended up here when I did?”

“Could be. Maybe we were both looking for something. The same something.”

Clint wasn’t sure what to say, so he took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. Dan was right. It was excellent. But right now, he was more interested in things besides food.

“I’m trying to feed a need and wipe away Afghanistan,” he told the other man.

“Maybe the first part applies to me, too.” Dan studied him over his food. “It’s very hard in a small town like this, in the heart of conservative ranching country, to find an outlet for, shall we say, extreme desires.”

“And you have them?” Clint stared at the man.

“My wife and I, well, sometimes we like to have someone watch. Know what I mean?”

Heat traveled up Clint’s body to his face. “I do.”

“That the kind of thing that appeals to you?”

“One of them.”

“Sometimes we like to have someone join us.”

His cock suddenly became too hard and too swollen for his jeans to contain. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. In the privacy beneath the table, he adjusted his fly as best he could.

Dan grinned. “Got your juices flowing?”

“You know it.” He growled low in his throat.

“We’ve got a few more interesting twists to throw in, but we can’t exactly put an ad in the local paper. Or even ask any of our friends or neighbors.”

Clint grinned. “No, I’d guess not. But a stranger is safe? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know I get good feelings from you, good vibes. I know we have compatible interests. And I know you landed right here in my town at this exact moment for a reason.” He cocked his head. “You don’t have any diseases I should know about, do you?”

“No, man. I had a complete physical when I left the service. They screened every cell in my body.” And then some.

“No one after you with a gun? No wives or ex-wives or former girlfriends chasing you?”

“Hell, no.” Clint laughed and picked up a french fry. “At this point, I might even let one catch me.”

“In that case, I think we might be able to do each other some good.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m going to give my wife a call. Think you might like to spend the afternoon with us?”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

Dan shrugged. “I can take a few hours off. So what’s it going to be, yes or no?”

Clint drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was so weird, yet it felt so right. “Yes. It’s yes.”

Dan speed dialed a number. “Hey, Kylie? Yeah, it’s me, honey. Guess what? I’m bringing home a guest. No, I’m not kidding. Not one bit. And, sweetheart? You’re gonna love him.” He looked across the table at Clint. “Eat up. You’ll need all your strength.”

Clint’s body buzzed with excitement, his blood pumped in his veins, and his balls ached with need. He hoped he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

Chapter Two

Clint swallowed his surging misgiving as he followed Dan’s truck out of Whistling Creek and down a two-lane country highway, onto a road just wide enough for the truck that wound through a thick stand of ancient oak trees. The gnarled branches and thick leaves formed a canopy over his head, giving him the feeling of riding through a tunnel.

What was he getting himself into? What was waiting for him at their destination? His dick, which had been flying solo for a while, was doing battle with his brain, which was telling him this was too good to be true. Was it possible a strange man had plucked him out of his search for—something—and was taking him home to have sex with his wife? To watch them? To join them in a threesome? It was a goddamn fairy tale, that’s what it was, but he didn’t plan to look a gift horse in the mouth.

At that moment, they came into a clearing, in the middle of which sat a log cabin straight from the pages of a Texas fairy tale. A peaked roof sat atop carefully constructed walls of polished logs, a wide window and a porch across the front completing the picture. A tub of flowers in bright colors of red and yellow and orange sat at either side of the three steps leading up to the porch, and in the doorway stood a woman straight out of an erotic dream.

She was medium height, with nice generous curves, a heart-shaped face, and creamy skin. Not too much of it was covered by a pair of skimpy shorts and a halter top that barely contained her lush breasts. Thick masses of honey-blonde hair, the color of corn silk, fell in careless ripples to her shoulders. When she waved, her breasts moved with the motion like two plump melons. Her only other attire was a pair of short, intricately tooled cowboy boots. Holy shit! More boots? Maybe it was a fairy tale, after all. Maybe he’d fallen asleep and was having the dream of his life. Whatever, his cock sent him a message it was more than ready.

He parked the bike next to Dan’s truck and pulled off his helmet. His new friend was already on the front porch in a liplock with his wife, his body plastered to hers, his hands inside her teeny shorts, clutching her nicely rounded ass. Clint took his brand new boots out of the storage area on the bike, locked it again, and moved over to the bottom step, waiting to see what happened next.

Finally, Dan lifted his head and smiled at his wife.

“Well, honey, was I wrong? Isn’t he just what we ordered?”

The woman looked at him with sultry blue eyes. “He is that, all right.” She reached around her husband and extended her hand. “Kylie Franklin. Happy to meet you.”

Clint took her smaller hand in his large one, marveling at how soft her skin was and how intoxicating she smelled, like wildflowers. “Same here.”

She pushed at her husband. “Well, let’s get him inside.” She grinned at Clint. “Come on.”

He followed them inside, alert to his surroundings, as he’d learned to be during his tours of duty. The cabin seemed to be one big room, with a kitchen setup along one wall, a couch and chairs in one part of the area, and the biggest bed Clint had ever seen taking up the rest. This was how they lived? But Dan had mentioned getting a college degree. What did he do for a living that he and his wife lived in this one-room cabin in the middle of nowhere?

Oh, well. None of his business, really. He was only here for fun and games that could last a day or a week. Maybe he’d like it all enough to stay around longer. Maybe he’d like them enough. He gave a mental shrug. At this particular moment, he was only interested in finding out exactly what kind of games they played. He hadn’t had a threesome for some time, and his juices were flowing like whitewater rapids.

“Nice place you got here.”

“We like it. It suits our purpose. Would you like a cold drink?” Kylie’s smooth voice held a hint of Texas drawl; the sound of it sent shivers dancing along his spine. “Riding that bike from town must have made you dry and dusty.”

“Sure. That would be nice.”

“You, too, honey?” She looked at Dan.

“You bet.”

She took three bottles of beer from the fridge, opened them, and handed him one. He lifted his eyebrow when he saw it was nonalcoholic.

“No alcohol when we play,” Dan told him. “We like our wits about us, and we also want to be able to really feel everything. Alcohol dulls the senses.”

He could get on board with that. Sometimes, on leave, he’d soaked up enough alcohol to dull the memories driving his nightmares. More than once, he’d awakened in a hotel room with two people he wouldn’t give house room to when he was sober. And sometimes, the sex was only a vague memory, just enough to blot out the images burning his brain. He wanted to remember every single moment of this.

Dan placed his hat on a rack by the door and pulled off his shirt as if he did that every day. Maybe he did. If he was into men, Dan Franklin would be high on his list. The man had broad shoulders, flat abs, and a nice sprinkling of dark hair on his chest arrowing down beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Have a seat.” He waved at a large recliner. “Get yourself comfortable.”

The chair was extra large, making Clint wonder if they used it for anything besides sitting in it. But it was extremely comfortable butter-soft leather, and when he raised the footrest and stretched out, he could feel each of his muscles loosening and relaxing.

“So.” Kylie waited while Dan dropped onto the extra-long couch then sat on his lap and turned to face Clint. “Dan said you were traveling the country and happened to stop in Whistling Creek.”

“That’s right. He was kind enough to invite me to lunch, and it seems we hit it off.” To his total shocked surprise.

“No definite destination in mind?” she asked.

“Uh-uh.” He paused to take a long swallow of beer. “Wherever the bike takes me.”

“I’ll bet you’re enjoying it. Doesn’t he look like it, honey?” She glanced at Dan, who was stroking her bare shoulder and arm.

“Sure does.” He brushed her hair aside to trail kisses down her slender neck and bit gently at the place where it joined her shoulder. Clint saw a little tremor skate over the woman’s skin. “But I got a feeling he might have a better time here with us. At least for a little while.”

She shifted her gaze to Clint again. “I’m assuming Dan explained our situation to you?”

“He did. And I sure can understand it. Some things are difficult for people to accept.”

“In case you think we’re nuts, putting it out there like that,” Kylie told him, “Dan’s very good at reading people. He’s had to be over the years, as we try to find a third for our, let’s say, social activities. We made a few mistakes early on, so we’ve learned to be extra careful.”

“And to trust our instincts,” Dan added. “I got a very good feeling about you from the moment we shook hands.”

Clint took another swallow of beer, letting the chilled liquid slide down his throat and hopefully cool his body that seemed to be heating up again very quickly.

“I’d just as soon let the two of you take the lead. But I’m not shy about asking if something pops into my head.”

“I don’t know if Dan mentioned it, but I do have a secret wish.” Kylie looked at Dan, who nodded. “We would love to find someone to move in with us permanently. Of course, that would be asking an awful lot.”

“Yeah?” Clint tried not to show his surprise. He’d been in a lot of one-night ménages. Sometimes even two-night encounters. But a permanent one? Would that ever interest him? He gave the other man a questioning look. “And you’d be okay sharing your wife on a regular basis?”

Dan drained the last of his beer and set the empty on the little table beside the couch. “Hell, yes. I mean, I know there would be a lot of logistics and specifics to work out, but if we could find someone on our wavelength, someone we both wanted to include, that would be the ideal.”

“But that’s just a dream, you know?” Kylie leaned into her husband. “Today, let’s enjoy each other. I’m more than ready”

“Sounds good to me.” Yeah, he was more than damn ready, too.

He wondered if, when it was his turn, he could get Kylie to straddle him in this chair and ride him hard. At the thought, his poor cock, which was already in distress, about strangled itself trying to get free. He tugged on the worn denim of his jeans, trying to ease the pressure.

Kylie’s low, throaty laugh sizzled his nerve endings.

“Got a little problem there, Clint?”

“No, I’m good.” But, of course, he wasn’t. His cock wanted out right that moment.

“Maybe I can help you.” She set her bottle down beside Dan’s, hopped off his lap, and walked over to the recliner, reaching out her hand. “May I?”

He didn’t know exactly what she was asking permission for, but what the hell? He nodded, his eyes dropping to her cleavage and the tempting swell of her breasts.

She unfastened the button at the top of his jeans, slowly lowered the zipper, and reached inside. Her fingers eased his shaft through the fly of his boxer briefs and closed lightly over his flesh, stroking it a few times. At her touch, heat flashed through his entire body, and his cock flexed.

Holy shit! They didn’t waste much time on preliminaries or social niceties. Well, fine by him. He wasn’t much for conversation anyway.

“Mmm.” She ran her tongue over her plump lower lip in a teasing motion. “This man really has it, sweetie. Maybe you should show him what you’ve got, too.”

Dan stood up and, as if she’d asked him nothing more than to move a pillow, began stripping off his clothes. When his dick popped free, Clint was sure it rivaled his in length and breadth. The thought popped into his mind that if they both fucked her at once, they’d be filling every inch of her. He hoped she was up for it because the image made his mouth water.

His eyes widened in surprise, though, once Dan was naked, to see him pull his boots on again.

“Surprised? Yeah, we’ve got this little fetish. We like to fuck with our boots on.” The man nodded at the box Clint had placed next to his helmet beside the chair. “Good chance to break your new ones in.”

Clint smothered a smile. This gave a whole new meaning to the term knockin’ boots.

“Okay, but you have to tell me how it started. You can’t just throw it out there without explanation.”

They looked at each other, and Dan grinned.

“We were out in the truck one night, stopped to have a beer, and got so horny we couldn’t wait to get home. I always keep blankets in the bed of the truck, but Kylie kept kicking them off, and our feet got cold. We discovered it gave us a little extra thrill to do it with our boots on.”

Clint burst out laughing. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any.”

Kylie reached down to rub Clint’s balls before returning to the couch and resettling herself on Dan’s lap. Her husband immediately unfastened the tie at the top of her halter, lowering the material and letting her generous breasts spill free. He pinched each taut nipple hard, making Kylie gasp with what sure sounded like pleasure.

Jesus!

Clint wanted some of that himself. He wrapped his fingers around his exposed cock, lightly stroking as he watched the scene unfold before him. He had to be careful because they’d hardly done anything yet and he was already heading toward the finish line. He was liable to make himself come before they even got to the good parts.

“We like to have our guest watch us first,” Dan explained. “If that’s okay with you.”

“You’d better hurry up, too,” Kylie told him. “I’ve been hot and bothered ever since you called from town.” She grinned at Clint. “But we might let you touch.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Works for me.” What was he supposed to say? Right now whatever they suggested was good for him. He was so horny, he’d agree to anything. And this couple somehow managed to push buttons that hadn’t moved in a long time. A very long time.

He kept his eyes glued to the couple as Dan finished removing the halter and shoved his fingers through his wife’s thick masses of hair. One hand molded a breast, kneading it as he tilted her head and took her mouth in a hot kiss. He watched as the man took his time playing with Kylie’s breasts, pinching and tugging on her nipples while his mouth was fused to hers.

Finally, he broke the kiss and urged his wife up from his lap.

“Time to show the goodies, darlin’.”

Kylie stood there, heat blazing from her eyes, while Dan slid down the zipper on her teeny shorts. He shoved them down her legs, and she kicked them away, standing there in a miniscule red thong. Her husband cupped her mound, rubbing gently with his palm, before removing the last item of clothing.

“Spread your legs a little, babe,” he ordered. “Let’s give Clint a good look.”

She did so obligingly. Clint’s mouth went dry although he thought that must be wrong because he was sure he was drooling. He let his gaze move slowly over the woman’s body from her gorgeous breasts, over her slightly rounded tummy, down to her pussy bared to his view. She either shaved or waxed because the only hair was two trimmed lines defining the lips of her cunt. And holy shit! She was a real blonde.

“Gorgeous, right?” Dan grinned. He ran a fingertip between her labia and then lifted it for Clint to see. “And soaking wet. Kylie’s always ready, aren’t you, babe?”

She nodded.

He put his finger in his mouth and sucked it clean.

Clint was getting so hot, not even swallowing more beer cooled him off. He gripped his own dick, stroking it as he watched the couple in front of him. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable wearing all his clothes while his hosts were completely naked. Should he stand up, strip, and then settle himself in the chair again? Should he ask first? In other situations, it hadn’t been so complicated. They’d just walked into the bedroom, stripped, and had at it.

As if reading his mind, Dan glanced over at him. “I’ve got two suggestions for you.” His voice was already thick with hunger. “Take off your clothes and come sit over here on the couch. Much better view.”

“Don’t forget your boots.” Kylie’s words came out on a moan as Dan lapped at her with his tongue. “Mmm.” She made a soft sound of pleasure that reverberated through Clint’s bod.

He pushed the chair into an upright position. “Don’t mind if I do.”

When he was completely nude, he put his folded clothes and boots by his helmet, took his new boots out of the box, and eased them onto his feet. He wanted to hum with pleasure at the feel of the supple leather and the way they cradled his feet. He certainly felt strange wearing nothing but the boots, but what the hell. When in Rome, do what the Romans do, right?

He walked over to the long couch, sitting down next to Dan.

“Want a little touch first?” the man asked.

“A touch?”

“Uh-huh. Go ahead. Touch her sweet puss. Spread your legs a touch more, darlin’.”

Tentatively, Clint reached out a hand and ran a finger down through her slit. Damn! She was wet indeed. Sopping wet. And hot. Her flesh nearly singed his finger. This woman must be ready to go all the time. When he licked his finger, he reveled in the salty-sweet taste of her juices, a pleasant flavor on his tongue.

“Watch this,” Dan told him, as Clint leaned back.

Kylie moved forward slightly to brace herself with her hands on Dan’s shoulders as her husband spread her pussy lips and lapped her slit, up and down, and then again. Tiny shudders raced through Kylie’s body as Dan ate at her, licking everywhere, stopping often to take a tiny nip at her clit.

The harder Dan licked and nipped, the deeper Kylie’s fingers dug into his shoulders. Clint tilted his head to get a better view of the whole thing, mesmerized by the sight of Dan’s tongue flicking over his wife’s clit and his teeth occasionally pausing to graze lightly over it. When the man slid two fingers into the waiting channel, Clint squeezed his cock so hard he thought he might break it off. Letting out a slow breath, he made himself ease off.

He was fascinated by the sight of the fingers driving in and out of Kylie’s pussy, by the thumb brushing her hot bundle of nerves over and over. Now and then, Dan would incline his head forward again to lick her hot button, tease it with his teeth, and bite down on it gently. When he added a third finger, the woman’s panting grew louder and faster, and Clint knew she was close to her release.

Dan drove his fingers in and out of her, faster and faster, lifting the other hand to take a nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinch it. Hard. That was all it took for Kylie to explode. She held onto Dan for dear life as her body shook, rasping sounds and little moans stuttering from her mouth.

Clint had to force himself to loosen his grip on himself again, determined not to come yet.

As Kylie came down from the intensity of her climax, Dan removed his fingers from the clasp of her pussy, reached into the drawer of the little table next to the couch, and pulled out a condom. In seconds, he had sheathed himself. Kylie moved so her legs were on either side of his. Dan lifted her and, using one hand to guide him, she slid down onto his swollen cock.

Clint was definitely glad they’d told him to move from the recliner. He had an intimate view of what was happening, and holy shit! He almost felt as if it was his dick sliding into her wet walls. Once Kylie was fully seated, they paused for a moment, Dan sucking one dark nipple into his mouth. He spent a long time attending to it then moved to the other one. Kylie began to raise and lower herself, sliding up and down on the cock she’d impaled herself on, setting a deliberate, steady rhythm. With little hair to hide her folds, Clint was able to see every detail, watch Dan’s cock slide in and out of her, see her juices coating the condom.

He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight of Kylie with her legs spread over her husband’s thighs, the folds of her pussy peeping out from their covering of soft blonde curls, and her breasts bouncing as she moved.

As if at some invisible signal, Kylie braced herself, closed her eyes, and began to ride Dan with wild abandon. Up and down, up and down, breasts bouncing, the nipple popping free from Dan’s mouth. He gripped her hips to help her, thrusting up into her as she came down on him.

Clint began pumping his own cock harder and faster, caught up in the rhythm next to him. Kylie’s breathing hitched, became choppy, and the muscles in her legs tightened as she strained for release. When he heard Kylie cry out and saw her press down hard on Dan, he stroked himself again and squeezed. As the couple next to him crashed into their orgasm, bodies shaking, his own release exploded, semen spilling over his hands and fingers as his shaft throbbed and pulsed.

Then there was nothing but the rough sounds of lungs dragging in air as they each came down from the high. Finally, with a long, slow, soft sigh, Kylie eased herself from her husband’s shaft. Clint rested his head against the couch, trying to figure the best way to clean himself up. When Dan went to dispose of the condom, Kylie surprised Clint by kneeling in front of him.

“Let me,” she told him, and proceeded to lick every bit of cum from his hand and fingers.

The touch of her tongue was like the kiss of a butterfly, soft and dainty. He didn’t think he ever wanted her to stop but finally she did. When she rose, she surprised him again by sitting in his lap.

Dan plopped down in his seat again. “She likes to have her breasts rubbed afterwards,” he told Clint, who was more than happy to oblige.

Kylie’s breasts were warm and heavy in his palms, her skin soft and sweet smelling. When she rested her head against his shoulder, the silken fall of her hair brushed delicately against his shoulder and the floral scent of her shampoo teased his nostrils. It blended with the aroma of sex in the room for a very erotic fragrance.

The climax, even self-administered, had taken the sharp edge off the tension he’d been wearing for weeks. And watching the Franklins was a balm to his soul—two people so totally into themselves yet generous enough in spirit to share the feeling with another person. Him.

This was the most relaxed he’d been in months. Maybe in years. There was something about the flow of things here, a feeling as if he’d known these people for years rather than minutes or hours. In fact, he hadn’t connected with anyone so quickly and so well since…well, since forever.

Always, before, he’d felt enormous pressure to perform. Of course when the people you hooked up with were strangers, often half in the bag, the dynamics were different. He could hardly remember most of the names. The first time had been on R and R overseas. One of his buddies had approached him in a bar and asked if he was interested. He got the feeling the guy was hot to do it and asking everyone he knew until someone said yes. Clint had still been tense and jittery from their recent assignment and thought some kinky sex might take the edge off.

The first time, he’d been a little self-conscious but after that? Hell. He’d jumped in with both feet. And, after a while, even gone looking for it. But they were seldom people he wanted to spend any more time with.

The Franklins broke the mold on that. He wondered if it was because he was in a different place, or maybe needing this after weeks of solitary living even in the midst of other people. All he knew was, being here like this with the Franklins, he felt more at peace than he had since leaving the military. As if he belonged, and what a strange sensation that was.

It was all so weird. The whole fairy-tale concept from his youth came rushing to his mind. Maybe he’d wished for this and the good fairy had granted his wish. Oh, come on. That was just too out there. If he said that out loud, these people would think he was crazy. Of course, nothing was crazier than all of them naked wearing nothing but their boots.

Kylie squirmed a little on his lap, the dampness of her folds like an electric shock to his shaft. Depleted as it was, the contact nudged it to life again. He couldn’t wait to slide inside her, feel the grip of her walls on him, the slickness of her juices. Watch her tease her clit while he thrust in and out of her.

He was definitely up, and then some, for whatever came next.

“You okay over there, Clint?” Dan studied him through narrowed eyes.

Clint nodded as he gently kneaded Kylie’s breasts, first one then the other. She rested her head on his shoulder, her breath a soft breeze against his skin.

“Yeah. Great, as a matter of fact.” He smiled a genuine smile for a change. “Looking forward to Act Two.”

He wondered how this couple could be so matter of fact about things. Then he took a deeper look and realized that wasn’t it at all. These people genuinely cared for each other and about each other. Considering the circumstances, it was a different kind of love than Clint always imagined. But it was there, just the same, no matter how offhand they were about things. He also realized how connected Dan must feel to him in order to invite him to their home and into their lifestyle.

Other times when he’d had threesomes, it was in a hotel or a motel or sometimes an apartment. He’d had no personal connection to the people other than a raw need for over-the-top sex. Once and done. Okay, sometimes twice. But that was it. This? In just a short time, he knew this was different. Under other circumstances, if he was around for a while, he could actually see himself being friends with this couple. Maybe even consider the situation they’d talked about.

“So tell me, Clint,” Dan said in a lazy voice. “Do you have any special preferences? Anything at the top of your list of choices? Because we’re game for just about anything.”

“Whatever you guys like is great for me, although….” He paused. Okay, say it. “I’d kind of like it if we could both fuck her at the same time.”

“Oh, that’s a given,” Dan told him. “You just have to let me know if you like the front or the back.”

“Either. Both.” He shrugged. “I just like the feeling.” But he also wanted to get a taste of her, lick her cream from her cunt. What he wouldn’t give to thrust his tongue all the way inside her.

As if he could read Clint’s thought, Dan said, “Honey, I have a feeling our guest would like a taste of your sweet puss. A real one, this time.”

“Well, let’s give him what he wants.” She gave his cock one last squeeze and eased herself to her feet. “But let’s move to the bed for this so we can all be comfortable. Clint, that okay with you?”

“I’d say I’m game for just about anything.”

“Okay, then.” She held her hand out to him, a smile teasing at her lips as she drank in the condition of his cock. “Come on.”

“We had this bed specially built when we knew the lifestyle we wanted. Something so everyone could be comfortable.” She grinned. “In any and all positions.”

Dan plumped all the pillows up against the headboard. He pulled back the covers, climbed in, and waited for his wife and Clint. Totally unselfconscious, Kylie climbed into the middle of the bed, arranged herself against some of the multitude of pillows, and smiled at him. “Come and get it, biker boy.”

She looked so damn sexy lying there, naked except for those feminine boots, feet planted on the bed, legs apart. When she reached down to stroke herself, Clint caught his breath. Yeah, that’s what he wanted her to do. But better when he was inside her.

One step at a time, buddy.

He paused a moment to drink in the sight of the mouthwatering woman stretched before him like an erotic feast. Oops! There went his cock again, demanding attention. But he had something else he wanted first.

He placed himself between her outspread legs, feeling only slightly ridiculous wearing nothing but his boots. He removed her hand from her mound and sat back on his heels, absorbing every detail in front of him. Now he had an unobstructed view of Kylie’s pussy, the folds a rich pink, glistening from her orgasm, the strips of blonde curls darkened by dampness, the swollen nub of her clitoris nearly a rose color. Her opening beckoned to him like the entrance to paradise, which he was sure it was.

Reaching out one finger, he traced her slit from top to bottom. Definitely juicy. He couldn’t help licking his lips. He stroked again, this time down and up, down and up. He watched the muscles in her thighs tighten in reflex at his touch, and he swallowed a smile. She was definitely a responsive female. Of course, he’d seen that already when Dan had used his mouth on her and then when he fucked her.

Still, could she be ready again so soon?

Dan had come to lie on the bed beside his wife, positioned so he could watch everything. As if reading Clint’s mind, he gave him a lopsided grin.

“She recovers fast. There have been times I’ve seen her have a dozen orgasms in a twenty-four-hour period.”

Twenty-four hours? Shit! He’d be dead by then.

He leaned forward, pulled her labia apart, and ran his tongue over the smooth, rosy flesh. Oh, yeah, she tasted just as good as he thought, so he did it again and again. He barely noticed Dan reach over and palm one of Kylie’s breasts, rubbing it as he’d done when she was on his lap. He was too busy licking and tasting, swirling his tongue around Kylie’s hot clit and sliding first one then two fingers inside her.

Damn!

He felt tiny flutters in her internal walls. Dan was right. She must have a hair trigger because she was approaching ready again. Yielding to temptation, he thrust his tongue inside her, stiffened it, curled it, and slowly dragged it out, scraping her sweet spot as he did so.

“Ohhh.” The sound drifted from her mouth, and she tightened all her muscles.

So he did it again. Then he got into a rhythm, in and out, keeping her spread wide, giving him total access. She hitched her hips up to him, digging her heels into the bed. He was still vaguely aware of Dan attending to her breasts—squeezing and pinching the nipples—but only peripherally. He was focused on the delicious treat his mouth was enjoying.

Tremors rippled through her inner walls, signaling the approach of her climax, so he pulled back not ready for it to be over.

“Don’t stop,” she begged.

“I want it to last,” he told her.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers again, watching her face as he glided them in and out of her. Her cheeks were darkened with passion and her eyes glazed. The pulse at the base of her throat was visible as it vibrated against the thin shield of skin. Slowly, he ghosted a fingertip over her hot button, round and round, timing it with the movement of his hand.

Kylie’s hands fisted in the covers, her breath rasping unevenly.

He toyed with her, teased at her, dragging her to the edge of the cliff then easing off. He loved the way her entire body tensed and she dug in her heels as she approached the explosion of her release. And the little sounds of protest she made each time he slowed down.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?” he asked. “Please let you come?”

“Yes.” She thrashed her head on the pillows. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

“You look so hot, babe.” Dan bent to kiss her mouth. “And he’s so damn good at this.”

Clint bent to his task again, pushing his tongue into her waiting pussy and setting a tempo. One hand found her swollen clit and teased and pinched it. She was close; he could feel it not only in the tension of her body but also in the clamping of her internal muscles on his tongue. He pressed harder on her clit, tugged it, and finally pinched it, hard, and drove her over the edge. She jerked and shivered and quaked as tremors gripped her body.

“That’s it, darlin,” Dan encouraged her. “Let it go. Let it go hard.”

And she did.

He slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her up to his mouth as she shuddered, licking and sucking hard, pushing her to a more intense and prolonged orgasm. He was relentless, working her with his mouth until he’d wrung the very last drop from her, the final tremor, that last convulsion. At last, he slid his hands from beneath her and lifted his head, licking his lips to catch the last delicious drop. He bent forward once more to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss on her cunt then gave her a smile.

“Much better than the non-beer,” he joked.

Dan laughed. “Better than anything else you’ll taste.”

Clint gazed at Kylie lying against the pillows, her legs loose and relaxed, her breathing still uneven. Dan brushed his fingers over both of Kylie’s breasts then placed a kiss on each nipple.

“You done good, babe.”

“No.” She smiled. “He done good. I think we need to keep him around for a while.”

I could get with that program. Definitely.

If only he could get through the night without incident. For a brief moment, he thought about telling them this was a bad idea, pulling on his clothes, and getting the hell out of there, before—

No. No, no, no. He hadn’t felt this peaceful in months. Maybe, finally, it would be all right.

Chapter Three

They were all lying on the big bed, Kylie in the middle bracketed by Clint and Dan. Dan had given her a chance to catch her breath and fetched fresh drinks for them before taking his place again. She let out a slow breath and slid a glance at Clint. He seemed as relaxed as she and Dan were, but she wanted to make sure.

From the moment he’d climbed off his motorcycle and walked toward her, she’d felt as if there was a mysterious joining. It wasn’t just his looks. Oh, he was damn good-looking, for sure, with his big, strong body, his shaggy, sun-streaked blond hair, and his square-jawed masculine face. It wasn’t just the heat she saw in his chocolate-brown eyes when he caught sight of her. Or his incredible masculine scent, earth and motorcycle and the remnants of a cedar-scented aftershave. It was something more electric, maybe even magical.

Finding an appropriate third for the activities she and Dan enjoyed was always a delicate process. After all, they lived in the very center of a conservative ranching area where how you lived was who you were. Oh, sure, it was possible other people they knew liked a few kinks in the bedroom, but to find the right person for their ultimate goal was far from easy.

The past couple of years, the opportunities had been fewer and further between. Oh, they’d been able to find someone suitable for one night’s play. Sometimes, even two. But the candidate who would fit right in with them had eluded them. Until this moment. The moment she’d laid eyes on Clint Gorman, she’d known Dan was right to scoop him up the way he had. Something inside her said, This is the one.

And that made her want to probe and dig, find out what had brought him here to their little community and what was going on inside his head. She didn’t want to make a mistake.

“So, Clint.” She hitched herself higher against the pillows. “What made you go into the military in the first place?”

He stared at the bottle he was holding. “I’m not sure how to explain this without sounding like an idiot.”

“No idiots here,” Dan assured him. “Just friends.”

Clint took a long moment before he answered. “I was looking for a family.”

Family? Did he mean he didn’t have any? Was he alone in the world? As many times as she and Dan had wished their own families a thousand miles away, she didn’t know what she’d do without their love and support, especially for the lifestyle the two of them had chosen.

She placed a hand on his arm. “A family?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at either of them. His voice held a note of sadness. “That’s what I said.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“Maybe it’s none of our business,” Dan said at last, “but what happened to the one you had? You had one, right? Or is that too personal a question?”

Again, there was a long pause. “Not something I usually like to talk about.” Then he gave a short laugh. “But what the hell. We’re all lying here naked.” He let out a slow breath. “My folks were killed in a plane crash when I was sixteen.”

“Oh God.” Kylie’s heart cracked, aching for him. She reached her hand down and linked it with his, trying to signal comfort. “I’m so sorry. No other relatives?”

“Not exactly.” He took a swallow of beer from the bottle he held. “One brother, but I haven’t seen him in years. He’s…out of the picture.”

Kylie knew there was a lot behind those words, but she didn’t push. Maybe, after some time had passed, if he was still there—if they could convince him to stay—he’d feel more comfortable and would share with them.

“So, what did you do? I can’t imagine living on your own at that age.”

“Lots of kids do it.” He shrugged. “I was lucky, though. I had a good friend in high school, same age as me. We lived in Wyoming, and his folks had a small ranch. They invited me to stay with them until I graduated. In turn, I worked the ranch with them.” He glanced at Kylie. “They were really good to me.”

“Are you still in touch with them?”

“I hate to admit how ashamed I am at the way I’ve neglected that relationship. And that’s on me. I stopped writing to them a long time ago.” He fiddled some more with the label. “Maybe I was reinventing myself.” He gave that rough laugh again. “And maybe that’s what I’m doing again.”

“Maybe we can help you,” she told him in a soft voice.

Another moment of silence dropped over them, as if they were all absorbing information.

“What about college?” Dan asked. “Didn’t you have any interest in going?

When Clint took a moment to answer, Kylie wondered if they were pushing him too much, digging into his personal life with so many questions. But she just wanted…wanted….

“No. The only thing important to me was getting the hell out of everywhere so, the day after graduation, I enlisted in the Marines. I stayed for twelve years.”

“And I’m guessing you did find your family there, so to speak?” Dan persisted. He took Kylie’s other hand, squeezing it as if to reassure her that they were doing the right thing asking all these questions.

“In a manner of speaking.” Clint picked at the label on his bottle. “I made good friends, and I had a sense of belonging. By the end of my second tour, you’d have thought I was born a Marine.”

“So what made you leave this time?”

A moment the space of a heartbeat passed. Another one.

“Clint.” She made her voice soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We’re interested in you, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I think I’d finally seen enough war, enough devastation, enough killing. I need a different kind of normal.”

“What about Wyoming?” Kylie asked. “Didn’t you want to return there?”

“Yeah, about Wyoming.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve neglected the people who took me in for so long, I’m not sure they’d even let me in the door. My bad. My very bad.”

“Do you ever miss it?” Dan wanted to know. “You know, life on the ranch?”

“Sometimes, when I let myself. I miss the horses and the environment. The feeling of serenity. And my friends. I didn’t treat them right after all they did for me.”

“Okay, enough talking.” Kylie glanced from one man to the other. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Dan, but I keep looking at Clint’s mouth and remembering how it felt on my body. I think I’d like to feel it on my lips.”

She moved so she could straddle his thighs, lifted the now empty bottle from him, and reached over to set it on the nightstand. God, his thighs were hard as tree trunks, but the hair scattered over them was fine and soft and pleasantly teasing to the lips of her pussy. She took a moment to run her hands over his chest, lightly scraping her fingernails over his flat male nipples, the color of dark copper, and loving the slight intake of breath when she touched him. When she lifted her eyes, she saw him looking intently at her, the hunger in his eyes so fierce it virtually stole her breath.

Kylie lifted one hand and placed it against his cheek, the slight abrasion of stubble so sensual against her palm. His nostrils flared as if he could still catch her scent, the spicy aroma of her cream. She glanced briefly at Dan, who was braced on one elbow, watching her intently. Then she brought her other hand to Clint’s face, cradling it between her palms, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his full, sensuous mouth.

She ran the tip of her tongue over it gently, catching the faint flavor of the non-beer he’d had as well as the lingering taste of her juices. The combination was so erotic she felt her pussy dampening even more. Clint inhaled, nostrils flaring, prompting her to press her tongue into the seam of his lips. He opened for her, and she swept her tongue inside, scouring the inside of his mouth and coaxing his tongue to dance with hers.

He had been still as a statue until that moment, hands at his sides. But now he lifted them, wrapped them around her, and thrust his fingers into her hair. He cradled her head, holding it in place as he took control of the kiss. His tongue was wet and pleasantly rough, igniting the little nerves just below the surface in her mouth. She melted into the kiss, swamped by the taste of him and the press of his body against hers.

She moaned in protest when he pulled his mouth from hers, but then he trailed damp kisses along the line of her jaw and down her neck, arousing her even more. He slipped one warm hand down the length of her spine, across the upper curve of her ass, and then around to the front of her body to slide in between the two of them where he palmed one of her breasts. Then his mouth was on hers once more, his tongue thrusting deep as he pinched and tugged at her nipple.

A slight shift in the bed told her Dan was about to get into the picture and, yes, there it was, his warm palm on her ass, squeezing gently. When the tips of his fingers trailed lightly into the crease between her cheeks, tiny flutters thrummed in the walls of her cunt. She threaded her fingers into Clint’s hair, loving the thick feel of it, and rocked back and forth on his lap as he continued to explore her mouth while Dan teased the hot crevice of her ass.

Clint slid his lips to the side and murmured softly in her ear, “You’re soaking wet. I can feel you on my thighs.”

“Mm-hmm.” She moved against him, the hair on his legs tickling her sensitive labia.

He put his lips to her ear. “Move yourself up closer just a little and you’ll see what’s waiting for you.” He nipped the lobe of her ear, sending streaks of sensation through her.

She inched forward, and he lifted her, settling her so the length of his cock, once again rigid and thick, nestled between her labia.

“Feel what I’ve got for you?”

“Yes.” She whispered the word and swayed in that same arousing motion.

Dan continued to ease his fingers up and down in her hot crevice. Now he pressed a finger against her rear opening, rubbing it gently, just enough to wake up the nerves and send a hot signal to the rest of her body. The first time she had taken two men at the same time, she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it. But the pleasure had been so extreme, so erotic, she craved it.

Clint tucked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face so she looked directly into his eyes. The heat and hunger she saw flickering there nearly made her come just sitting there.

“You make me hotter than any other woman I’ve ever met.” He licked the outline of her mouth. “I want to be inside you. Right this minute. Can we do that?”

Her heart raced at the thought of taking that huge shaft inside her. She’d done this before, with cocks just as big, but never with the desire she felt for Clint Gorman. Never with the link that seemed to be forming between them. Among all three of them.

“Dan will want to be part of it,” she told him in a soft voice.

“Fine by me, as long as I get that pussy.” He nipped one of her lips. “You like him to fuck you in the ass?”

She nodded. They were still speaking in barely audible tones, but she knew Dan could hear every word.

“Want me to fuck you in the ass?”

She nodded again.

“Next time around. There will be a next time, right?”

“Yes. I…yes.”

“All right, then.”

Dan was up on his knees beside her, kissing her shoulders, and taking little nips in her skin.

“You ready, babe?”

“More than.” She could barely get the words out, as aroused as she was.

“Sure you don’t need more rest?”

She shook her head, eyes still locked with Clint’s. “No. Plenty of time to rest later.” Her lips curved in a wicked smile.

She never looked away from Clint, even as she’d heard Dan climb off the bed and assembled what they’d need. Clint continued to hold her gaze while he eased one hand between them, found her sex, and slowly rubbed her clit in a continuous motion.

“You get wet fast.” His smile was voracious.

“I know. Not always, though.”

“I’m glad you do with me. You’re nice and juicy. Good. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled at him. “You won’t. I promise.”

Dan returned to the bed, kneeling between Clint’s legs, behind her.

“Clint, want to help me out here so I can get at that delicious ass?”

Clint’s cock flexed between them at the words. He eased down until only his head was on the pillows, pulling Kylie so she was lying on top of him, her buttocks exposed to Dan. She leaned her head on Clint’s chest, closed her eyes, and swallowed as Dan pressed a well-lubed finger into her rear tunnel. The feel of him rubbing the gel into her tissues made her pussy throb in anticipation and need.

He slid his finger out then pressed two of them in, coated with more gel, scissoring them so he could lubricate her completely. The third finger, when it came, was to make sure she was stretched enough to take the intrusion of his cock. Even as many times as they’d done this before, it was always a tight fit, and he always did his best to ease any discomfort.

“Okay, babe?” he asked, removing his fingers and placing a kiss on each of her ass cheeks.

“Good as ever,” she assured him, rubbing her face against Clint’s hard chest.

“Then how about helping Clint with this?” He slipped a condom into her hand.

“My pleasure.” She sat up to free Clint’s hard, engorged shaft and tore open the foil wrapper.

“I can do it.” Clint tried to pluck it from her fingers.

“Uh-uh.” She smiled at him. “My honor.”

Bending down, she grasped his cock and took the entire length in her mouth, wetting it thoroughly with her tongue. She wanted one long taste before she covered it. Then, deliberately and carefully, she rolled the condom down his length and gave his balls a gentle squeeze.

“You gonna help me here, Marine?” she teased.

“My pleasure.”

Hands on her hips, he lifted her, helped her position herself, and slowly lowered her onto his waiting shaft.

Oh God!

Inside her channel, he felt even bigger, taking up every single inch of space. She braced herself on his chest but let him control her movements. He eased her down a little at a time until she completely enclosed him and every bit of her was filled. Heat flashed over her body in waves at the thought of what was to come.

“All set?” Dan asked from behind her.

She nodded.

“Clint?”

“Oh, yeah.” His voice was thick with lust.

She leaned forward again so she was lying nearly flat on Clint’s chest while Dan pressed the cheeks of her ass apart, nudged her opening with the head of his dick and, one erotic inch at a time, worked himself into her. With Clint embedded in her front passage and Dan nearly all the way into her back, she felt so full she wondered if she could even breathe.

Clint levered her up from his chest, bracketed her head with his large, warm hands, and dusted a kiss over her lips. Then he tilted her head so he could look hard into her eyes.

“You okay, darlin’?”

She nodded. “Yes.” The word came out on a whisper of breath. “But I hope you don’t expect me to do much talking.”

“Only with your body.”

Dan tapped her shoulder, his signal asking if she was ready. She dipped her head.

“Okay, then.”

And they began to move. If she didn’t know better, Kylie would have thought these men had done this together a hundred times. She braced herself on Clint’s body, but he and Dan held her steady as they moved in a choreographed rhythm, in and out, over and over. One thrust into her while the other mimicked the movement. She knew they could feel each other’s dicks through the thin membrane separating her two channels, and that always ramped up her arousal.

As they moved in their sexual dance, a climax began to build in increments deep inside her body.

“Look at me,” Clint commanded when she lowered her eyelids. “I want to watch you the whole time. See it in your eyes when you come.”

His words were so charged, so powerful, she couldn’t have dropped her gaze after that under any circumstances. The muscles in his face tightened, and the heat of sexual arousal colored his skin. When he slowly licked his lips, the pulse throbbing at her core beat harder and faster.

Kylie was so tuned in to this sexual dance she knew the instant both men were close to the edge.

“Faster,” she rasped. “Go faster.”

They increased the pace of their movements, back and forth, in and out, Dan’s fingers digging into her hips, Clint’s eyes almost black but still locked onto hers.

More, more, more, she chanted silently, riding them both, her breasts bouncing.

“Now,” she cried. “Oh God, now.”

As if someone had flipped a switch, they all exploded, both cocks pulsing inside her, throbbing, as her pussy clamped down on Clint and her orgasm gripped her in a giant fist. Kylie was impaled on the two huge shafts flexing inside her, and the feeling drove her to a fever pitch. They shuddered as one, shaking, breathing rough and raspy, bodies slick with sweat as the climax went on and on and on. She completely lost track of time and self, everything around her ceasing to exist except the man behind her, murmuring erotic, dirty words in her ear and the man she faced whose gaze alone ignited her.

She had no idea how much time passed before the spasms lessened to tremors, the tremors to aftershocks, and the aftershocks into light quivers. She fell forward onto Clint’s hard chest, winding her arms around his neck to stabilize herself as her heart rate finally returned to normal. After a long moment, she felt Dan easing his shaft from her ass and shifting on the bed. She heard him pad to the far wall and open the door to the one luxury they’d installed in this cabin—an elegant bath with a giant stall shower and a large spa tub. Water ran from the sink faucet, a light splash then the heavy sound of the taps opening on the tub. Then he was back.

Clint tugged her face up. “I think this means I need to move you off my body.”

She grinned weakly at him. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“I know I’m not, but I don’t want to push our luck with this condom.”

She pressed a small kiss to his jawline then let him lift her from his body and roll her to the side. He looked down at the condom then at her, as if asking about disposal.

“Dan? I think it’s time to show him our treat.”

Dan pointed him to the door he’d just come through. They knew the moment Clint got a look at the interior of the bathroom.

“Holy shit! This bathroom must be worth more than the whole cabin.”

Dan laughed. “We take good care of our bodies. Get rid of the condom but stay right there. We’ll be with you in a minute.”

He picked Kylie up in his arms and carried her to where Clint was still staring at the huge tub.

“We all taking a bath?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

Kylie gave him an impish grin. “You’ll thank us in the morning. Believe me. We got some incredible bath salts to put in there that work wonders on sore muscles. As soon as we get in the tub, Dan will turn on the aroma steamer. It’s got eucalyptus in it, and you won’t believe how soothing that is.”

Clint frowned as if mulling it over in his mind then shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

When the tub was filled completely, Dan climbed in first, then Kylie settled herself between his legs and Clint took his place last, facing them.

“Amazing we all fit,” he commented.

“We had it made for this purpose,” Kylie told him. “Relax. You guys did some hard work.”

Dan flipped on the aroma steamer, and the fresh scent of eucalyptus floated out into the air.

“After a while, Kylie will make us some dinner,” Dan told Clint. “Then I think we might all be ready for a good night’s sleep.”

Clint frowned again. “Out of curiosity, where do we all do that?”

Kylie laughed. “Why do you think we have such a big bed?”

Chapter Four

Clint had wondered if he’d be able to sleep with his two new friends. When he’d done his threesomes in hotels and apartments, they’d always spent so much time fucking, no one had bothered to think about it. And there were always extra beds and couches around if someone wanted to crash, but they never slept together, as a pair or a group. But Kylie and Dan made everything seem so natural.

Dinner had been a long, relaxed meal. Kylie had heated up ribs she’d taken from the fridge along with a bowl of potato salad she’d obviously had waiting. Had they been expecting company, or were they always prepared like this? So many questions he wanted to ask, but the Franklins had rolled into an easy conversation over food, and they’d talked about everything else under the sun.

Dan reminded Kylie he needed to be up early in the morning, although he didn’t explain why, and they all crawled into the big bed, Kylie in the middle. Minus their boots. He grinned to himself. He was surprised at how much room there was for the three of them and how comfortable he felt in the situation. Almost as if he’d been doing it forever.

More fairy tales, he told himself.

He resisted sleep as long as he could, listening to the two people next to him breathe slowly, feeling Kylie’s small, warm hand on his chest. He wanted to be damn good and tired when he finally closed his eyes. That way, he could be pretty sure he’d shut out the nightmares. They were the main reason he’d resisted spending the night at first, but Kylie and Dan were so kind and welcoming and sincere in urging him to stay. He figured he’d just pray this one night he slept all the way through.

Finally, tired from all the physical exertion and relaxed from the tub, he closed his eyes and fell into darkness.

Crack!

The sound of the shot pierced the blackness of the night. One single shot followed by the rat-a-tat of a semi-automatic. Clint crouched behind their overturned Humvee, useless with its tires shot out. He was damn glad it hadn’t been an IED that did them in. Otherwise, none of them would be still breathing.

He jacked another cartridge into his own semi and tried to see through the black of the night.

“Reed? Reed, you there?”

He held his breath, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah.” The word finally floated on the darkness, but it was weak and thready.

“What’s the sitrep? How’s Kevin?”

The three of them had been on patrol, checking the road after night fell before a convoy tried to make it to a Forward Operating Base under cover of night.

“Reed?” he asked again.

“He’s hit,” came the reply at last. And, after a pause, “Me, too.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

 “Okay, hold on. I’m coming to you.”

He’d crawl over to the Humvee and find the rudimentary field kit every vehicle carried. You didn’t go anywhere in Afghanistan without something to take care of wounds.

“No. Don’t move.” Pause. “Whoever shot us is still here. No sense all of us dying.”

“No one’s going to die on my watch,” Clint snapped. “Can you do anything about the bleeding until I can get to you?”

“Yeah. Did the best I could.”

Clint hated it that Reed’s voice sounded weaker and weaker. Damn, he was so sick and tired of fighting people who played dirty, who killed the very people there to help them. Shoving his arm through the strap of his semi, he wriggled on his stomach over to the Humvee. If he could get to the other side where he’d have easier access to equipment….

A bullet pierced the dirt inches from him, the sharp report loud in the inky blackness.

Clint froze.

“Not tonight,” an accented voice said out of the dark.

Very slowly Clint rolled to his side and looked up to see a Taliban fighter a foot away from him, a handgun in one hand, a semiautomatic slung over his shoulder.

“Tonight, I will finish off all three of you,” the man continued, “and anyone else who tries to destroy us.”

Closer than he’d like, Clint heard more semi fire. He wanted to call out to his men, see if they were still alive, but he had to focus on his own situation.

“Destroy you?” Clint was so furious he didn’t stop to weigh his words. “You fuckers are the ones out to destroy us and everyone else who doesn’t buy into your terrorist doctrine.”

“Our beliefs are what will rule the world, American pig.”

“Yeah?” Clint knew he should keep his mouth shut, but his rage was getting the best of him. “I’ll bet you’re afraid to take me on without that gun, or your friends up there in the rocks backing you up.”

“You challenge my manhood?”

The man did exactly what Clint hoped he would. He tossed his guns to the side, pride wounded, and came at Clint with his bare hands. Clint rolled with him until the man was under him, but they were clutching each other’s throats. If he could just off this guy and take his weapon….

A shot split the night again.

Fueled by rage, Clint smashed the other man’s head against the ground then yanked his semi around. Where were the others, damn it? He swung the gun left, then right, peering into the darkness. He had to save Reed and Kevin, had to….

“Clint. Wake up, Clint.”

“Save Reed,” he gasped, his fingers closing around flesh. “Save Kevin. Kill you, kill you….”

“Clint!” The word was sharper.

Someone grabbed his wrists and forcefully pulled his arms down.

“Wake up.” Another voice close to his ear, too soft to belong in the scene. “Open your eyes, Clint.”

A hand touched his cheek in a gentle caress.

No, no, no!

Frantically, adrenaline fueling his fear, he did his best to free himself from whoever was restraining him.

“Clint.” This voice was sharp, authoritative, demanding. “Open your eyes. Right now.”

With a heavy heart, sure they would all be dead in a moment, he did as commanded, eyelids heavy as if weighed down by rocks. The scene faded away, and he looked around, blinked, looked around again. Where the hell was he? In a cabin? No, that was wrong. He was in Afghanistan, in the foothills of the Hindu Kush Mountains.

But then the soft hand caressed his face, and he realized, strong fingers were holding his wrists. Holding him in place. He looked around, discovered Kylie sitting on one side of him in a tangled mass of bedclothes, her face a study in concern. Dan was straddling him, holding his wrists.

It finally registered where he was, and cold panic gripped him. Jesus Christ! What had happened? What had he done?

Oh, damn. Shit and damn. He’d done it again.

He’d known this was a bad idea. He should have insisted on leaving, but everything was so warm, so exciting, so giving.

“You okay if I let go of you, buddy?” Worry creased Dan’s forehead.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He hauled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you think I could get a drink of cold water?”

“Coming right up.” Kylie placed a gentle kiss on one cheek then scrambled over the mound of material to the refrigerator.

“You can let go of my wrists,” Clint told Dan in a low voice. “I’m pretty sure I won’t kill anyone tonight, except maybe myself.”

“Not even funny.” Kylie handed him a glass of ice water. “No one’s killing anyone, least of all themselves.”

Clint drank the water down in a few swallows then pressed the cold glass against his forehead. After a moment, he pushed himself off the bed.

“I’ll get dressed and grab my things. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I’m sure I can find a motel on the highway, or maybe some place to camp out.”

“Hold it.” Kylie planted herself in front of him. “No one’s going anywhere. Period.”

Clint shook his head. “You’d best just let me get out of here before I do any real damage. Truly. I thank you for everything but—”

“But nothing.” She refused to move out of the way. “Why didn’t you say anything about having PTSD? Or some form of it?”

He grimaced. “It’s not something you dump on the table for people, especially when…especially if….”

“Especially nothing.” She looked at her husband. “Dan? Do something.”

She blocked Clint’s path to his clothes while Dan stood there, studying him a little longer. Then the man gave a sharp nod of his head.

“Kylie, put on some clothes and then make coffee. I think we’re all going to do a little talking. Clint, grab your jeans and let’s sit down.”

The words were firm but said with a kindness Clint hadn’t heard in a long time. He sighed, pulled on his jeans, and sat down at the small table where they’d had dinner. Okay, he’d talk. But then he was leaving. He wasn’t going to put these people in danger because of his dreams or because he couldn’t get his shit together.

He and Dan sat there in a silence a lot friendlier than Clint had expected while Kylie, dressed only in her husband’s T-shirt, made coffee and took three mugs down from a cupboard. He watched her move around the kitchen, remembering the feel of that lithe body under his hands, the sweet taste of her, the feel of her tight, wet cunt clasping around his dick like a hot fist. He touched his lips, remembering the soft feel of hers and the sexy way her tongue played with his. He was pretty damn sure he’d never find another woman he’d feel the same way about.

And the three of them. Damn. They’d fit together so nicely, hardly needing any words to know what to do when. He’d been right about one thing. It really was a fairy tale, and everyone knew fairy tales didn’t come true.

Kylie brought the mugs to the table, filled them, and sat opposite him. She took a sip of the hot liquid, set her own mug down, and reached for his hand. When he would have pulled it away, she tightened her small grip on it.

“Stay connected,” she told him. “I’ve read a lot about it and seen documentaries about PTSD. They all say it helps.”

“I never should have come here,” he told them again. “I deceived you both, but I’d hoped—”

“You wouldn’t have an episode?” Dan asked.

He nodded. “I don’t have them every night.”

“Have you seen anyone about them?”

“When I was back East, after I finished my last tour.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “But they kept saying it takes time, it takes working through. I got sick of listening to them.”

“So you decided to get on your bike,” Dan guessed, “and find someplace where the nightmares might not follow you.”

Clint gave him a rueful grin. “You see how well my plan worked out.”

Dan sipped his coffee, watching Clint over the rim of the mug. “Why don’t you tell us about the dream? Is it always the same one?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think—”

“Right. Don’t think. You’re among friends here, Clint. We may have just met, but I think I can speak for Kylie and myself when I say we feel as if we’ve known you a long time. So let’s have it.”

Fortifying himself with the rich-roast coffee, Clint told them about his last tour, about the men he’d lost, about that last patrol, and what happened with Reed and Kevin.

“I managed to kill those fuckers. There were only three of them. Then I radioed to the camp for help. I managed to save Reed, but Kevin was gone.” His throat tightened with tears, so he took another swallow of coffee.

Kylie got up and brought the pot to refill his mug, giving him a kind smile.

“I’m not in your shoes,” Dan said, “so I can’t pretend to know how you feel. But I do know carrying a burden by yourself makes it twice as heavy.” He looked across the table at his wife, who nodded. “I speak for both of us when I say we want you to stay, Clint. I think we can help you heal.”

“Why in hell would you want to take the chance? What if I wake up and try to choke one of you again?” He shook his head. “I can’t take the chance.”

“Yes, you can.” Kylie linked her fingers through those of his free hand. She looked at Dan, who nodded. “There’s something tying the three of us together, Clint. I know you felt it, too. We’ve searched for someone like you for a very long time. I think we can all help each other.”

“Do this for us,” Dan put in. “Stay until tomorrow. I want to show you something. If that doesn’t persuade you, then we’ll discuss all the options. But I know we can be what you need, just as you can be what we want.”

He sighed. How could he refuse? They offered something he wanted so badly, people who believed in him. Could he really take a chance?

“Okay. We’ll take another look at things in the light of day. But for my own peace of mind, I’m spending what’s left of the night on the couch, okay?”

“If that’s what will make you comfortable,” Dan agreed. “Let’s pack it in again. Despite the coffee, I think we’ll all be able to catch at least a few winks.”

***

Clint barely slept during what was left of the night. The couch was long enough for his big body, but his brain wouldn’t shut off. Besides, he was afraid if he allowed himself to fall sleep again, the dream would return. He tossed fitfully, dozing off and on, glancing over at the bed occasionally, at Kylie and Dan, twined together. God, what he wouldn’t give to be part of that. The third to complete their situation.

He wasn’t exactly sure how they’d all coexist in this cabin, but he figured if he did decide to stay, they could work it out.

If. Big word.

He lay there, watching the sun come up through the wide picture window, still trying to come to a rational decision.

“We’re not letting you go.”

Kylie’s musical voice broke into his thoughts. It startled him to realize he hadn’t even noticed her get out of bed. He looked over and saw Dan sitting up, watching him closely.

“She’s right,” the man said. “We have something here, the three of us. Don’t lie and tell me you don’t feel it, too.”

“You said you’d give us a chance,” Kylie reminded him. “Let us show you something, and then you can make a decision.”

Clint looked from one to the other and saw both compassion and determination on their faces. What could he lose, really? Another few hours? He hated to admit to himself how badly he wanted this situation. How…settled…it made him feel.

“Okay.” He shrugged. “Sure.” Then he grinned. “But not without more coffee, okay?”

“You got it.” Kylie leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

He couldn’t resist running the tip of his tongue over hers, tasting them again. Yup. She tasted just as good this morning. He wanted to slide one hand between her legs and scoop some of her cream onto his fingers, but he was smart enough to know this was not the right time.

In less than fifteen minutes, they were all dressed, albeit hastily, and in the big cab of Dan’s truck, holding travel mugs filled with hot, delicious liquid. Dan drove down the narrow lane to the highway again and turned left. They had gone about a half mile when Dan turned onto a driveway and drove beneath an arch that said Broken Arrow Ranch. Rolling pastures spread on either side of him, defined by a split-rail fence. At the end of the driveway sat a low, rambling ranch house with a wide porch and a long, attached garage. Beyond it stood two large barns and other outbuildings. The early morning sun bathed everything in its golden light.

Dan parked in front of the garage and turned off the truck.

“Come on,” he urged Clint. “I want you to take a look.”

Puzzled, he climbed down out of the truck then turned to help Kylie, but she jumped lithely to the ground. He stood with his hands in his jeans pockets, looking around. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the rich mixture of hay and grass and horses and cattle and earth. It reminded him of Wyoming, and a wave of homesickness swamped him, so powerful it stole his breath. What he wouldn’t give to stay here—or in a place like this.

He turned to Dan. “Where are we?”

“The Broken Arrow.”

Clint huffed a sigh. “I know. I read the entrance sign. I mean, why are we here? Whose place is this?”

Dan and Kylie looked at each other and smiled.

“It’s ours,” Kylie told him.

“Yours?” He froze in shock. “You own this place?”

Dan nodded. “What do you think?”

“Let’s show him around.” Kylie took his hand and tugged him forward. “Come on, Clint.”

He felt as if someone else inhabited his body as she led him toward the house. Behind him, Dan chuckled. Clint walked stiffly up the front steps, waited while Kylie unlocked the door then followed her inside.

And stopped. Dead still.

If he didn’t know better he’d think he really was back in Wyoming. Same rambling house, same polished hardwood floors. Same comfortable furniture. Same large windows to let in the sunlight. Oh, the design and colors were different, but the feel was the same. He let Kylie urge him through the big kitchen and out onto the rear porch, where the ranch workday was beginning. Horses were being led out into the corral next to the first barn where they gamboled in the fresh air. In the distance, cattle lowed. Men in jeans and work shirts moved around, taking care of the early morning chores.

God, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.

He looked at Dan who had come to stand beside him. “You really own this place?”

“We do.” Dan grinned. “Surprised?”

“As hell. What’s with the cabin, then?”

“That’s where we go to play,” Kylie told him. “You’re the first person we ever brought to the ranch. We never felt right with anyone else. Never wanted to share.”

“The cabin was the original building here,” Dan explained. “We modernized it for our needs.” He chuckled. ”It’s seen some really good times. But lately, Kylie and I have talked more and more about finding a permanent situation. Someone we can trust.”

“We think that’s you, Clint,” she added. “This is a great place to heal, and we can help you do it.”

“It’s got to remind you of Wyoming,” Dan said. “Right?”

“Right. Damn right.”

“You said you were looking for a family. We want you to be part of ours. We want to be your family. Can you get on board with that?”

Clint wondered if he should pinch himself to make sure this was all true. That he wasn’t going to wake up in a moment and find himself in a cheap-ass motel, wondering where the hell to go next.

“Well?” Kylie linked her fingers with his. “What do you think? Are you willing to give it a chance? I know you felt the same things we did last night. I believe it.”

He looked from one to the other. He’d known the moment he rode into Whistling Creek his life was about to change. He just hadn’t realized how much it was going to improve.

For the first time in a long time, his mouth curved in a natural grin.

“Let’s do it.”

Dan quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah? You mean it? You’ll have to work your ass off here, same as us.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Yes!” Kylie screamed and leaped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Clint noticed a couple of the hands in the yard look over at them then shrug and go about their business. For a brief moment, he wondered how this would all appear to the people who worked here. Then he pushed the thought away. If Dan and Kylie were comfortable with it, he would be, too.

“Let’s have some breakfast,” Dan said. “Then I’ll take you to get your bike and stuff.”

“And boots.” Kylie gave him an impish grin. “Can’t do anything without your boots.”

He threw back his head and laughed, feeling as if a weight had suddenly lifted from his chest.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He lingered on the porch, watching the sun rise and brighten the day. People who believed in fairy tales were right. They really did come true.

~A Letter from Desiree Holt~

Dear Readers,

Taking a fairy that has been with us for so long and turning it into a hot, erotic modern day story was a wonderful challenge. I wanted to keep the theme of the story it was based on—Boots of Buffalo Leather—but give it it’s own distinct personality. And of course, it needed the angst that always come with a relationship. I loved creating my hero, Clint Gorman, who was trying to outrun his nightmares on his big Ducati motorcycle. And I love Kylie and Dan Franklin, who had their own challenges and saw the perfect solution in Clint. Bringing them together gave me a lot of satisfaction as I hope it will to you as you read the story.

I hope you will also check out my other Decadent Publishing stories like my rock star series-Joy Ride and Aftershock-as well as my Christmas stories-He Came Upon a Midnight Clear and Soul Dreams. And of course, all my 1Night Stand stories that I just loved writing.

I think the thing I like the best about creating my stories is that I start with the characters who always have flaws and challenges and in the story work to find a happy solution.

And, as always, I write them for you. I’d love to hear from you after you read Knockin’ Boots, or any of my other stories, at desireeholt@desireeholt.com.

And thanks for buying this book.

Warmly,

Desiree Holt

Beyond Fairytales

www.decadentpublishing.com

Chasing Gold by Alexa Bourne

Chapter One

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, Simon Andrews no longer had to listen to his brothers’ bullshit. With a roll of his eyes, he mimicked the exact words of Paul. “If you don’t pay attention, you’ll never be ready to go into the field.”

“If you don’t think of yourself as a professional, no one else will either,” Danny added.

“Plus with your attention span, you have to put 200 percent into all your work,” Paul finished.

Simon leaned back in his office chair. “If you two don’t let me go in the field with you, I’ll never learn the best way to hunt for treasures, will I?” He should’ve known better than to ask to join them on their upcoming expedition. They would say no. Again.

“Isn’t he cute?” Danny mussed Simon’s hair. “Simple Simon wants to go with us.”

He smacked his brother’s arm away. “We’re not kids anymore. How about calling me by my real name?”

“Simon Simpleton,” Paul said. “Got it.”

He locked his jaw and shook his head.

While laughing, his brothers strolled toward the conference room.

“Simpleton, you want some coffee?” Paul glanced over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes then stared through the office window. He would need something to keep him focused on this crappy paperwork. Though the three of them equally owned their company, Andrews on the Hunt, Simon was nothing more than a glorified secretary. Sure, he enjoyed parts of his job, but he longed for more.

Leaning forward in his office chair, he concentrated on the bills that needed paying. No sense in wallowing.

Outside, a black car pulled up to the curb. The sunlight bounced off the windshield, blinding him for a moment. Chatter about last night’s football game floated from the room behind him.

He focused on the computer screen until the front door made its obnoxious sucking noise then glanced up.

The door to the office swung open. In shuffled a little old man. Tufts of white hair covered his head. “Hello, laddie,” he greeted before the door closed. “I’m Thomas Gray.” The old man pointed over his shoulder as a tall, beefy guy in a dark suit followed him through the door. “He’s Nigel, my driver.”

The guy at the door sent a quick, menacing glare toward the old man.

“Hi.” Simon jumped out of his chair, itching to do something to help Gray. “What can we do for you?” He walked over, offering his forearm to help steady the man, who held a cane, but it didn’t seem to do much good. Nigel, in his secret agent outfit, stepped to one side and crossed his arms. He perused the room.

Simon stared at the guy. Should he wave his hand in front of the man’s face just to see if he’d move?

The old man plopped onto the couch lining the lobby wall. “You’re a fortune hunter, are ye?”

He hesitated—a moment too long.

“We’re the hunters,” Paul announced. He and Danny exited the conference room, each with a cup of coffee—as usual, they’d neglected to bring him one, despite the offer. He wasn’t sure why he even said yes when they asked. “He’s our advisor.”

Danny mumbled something, shifted around Paul, and slid into his office.

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asked.

Paul stood next to him. “He’s trying to find a family heirloom that might or might not exist.” He shifted his attention to the client. “Sir, we’ve told you twice we can’t help you.”

“Aye, but aren’t there three of you? Perhaps the third boy will listen.” He pointed toward Simon. “I suppose you’re the lad I’ve come to see.”

“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Paul grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him toward Danny’s office before either he or the old man could object.

“Aye. When you’re done, I’ll be out here waiting.” The guest pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his nose.

Inside the office crowded with sports paraphernalia, Paul closed the door then pointed at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

Danny looked up from the pile of papers in front of him. “About what?”

“Little brother’s feeling sorry for the guy.”

“You can’t know how I feel.” He pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

Paul waved off the comment. “Oh, please. We can read you like a Sunday newspaper.”

Danny tossed his pen onto the pile. “Didn’t the guy get the message the last time? Or the time he spoke to you?”

“What are you two talking about?”

Paul sipped his coffee. “The guy’s been in here before. Each time, he spoke with one of us. He’s searching for some golden treasure, and he wants to find it before he dies.”

“He’s convinced someone can find it even after he’s spent his entire life searching.” Danny interlocked his fingers and dropped them to his stomach. “He came in last week when we sent you to secretary school.”

Simon bit his tongue to keep from arguing. No amount would do any good. His brothers would never change their opinion of him.

“But I told him we couldn’t do it,” Danny continued. “Then he came in over the weekend to discuss it with Paul.”

“The more the guy talked, the more he made me think about Nana’s wackiness before she died. Remember when she got out of the house, wandered down to the shopping mall, then tried to sell her shoes?” Paul shrugged. “Not to be insensitive, but we don’t have time to chase rainbows for a potential pot of gold at the end.”

Right. Because possibilities never guarantee fame and fortune. Like so many lawyers or bank loan representatives, the brothers claimed to work for everyone. However, a bunch of stipulations were listed in the fine print.

“What’s he doing here now?” Danny tapped his thumbs together.

“From his comments, it sounds like he’s going to try convincing Simpleton here to work for him.”

“Don’t fall for it.” Danny rose to walk to the chair in front of his desk and began packing folders into a backpack. “I’m convinced he’s crazy.”

“What’s he searching for?” Simon shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall.

“Some prize stolen from his Scottish clan years or centuries ago.” Paul waved his hand. “He thinks it’s somewhere between Edinburgh and Inverness.”

“No, they were weirder names. Ones I’ve never heard of.”

“Anyway, he couldn’t even remember enough to describe the prize they might or might not have lost.” Paul nudged Simon away from the football picture next to him as though he’d damage it with a shoulder bump. “I felt sorry for him when he first came to me, so I did a little digging. The history books cover all sorts of crimes those clans committed against each other. There’s not much information anywhere on his family or the theft.”

Simon shrugged. “Maybe it’s one very few people knew about. Or maybe it didn’t mean enough to make the history books.”

After a few seconds of staring, Paul pointed to him. “Oh, no. I see the thoughts crawling around in there.”

“What?” Danny, too, stared at him.

“Simpleton’s considering a discussion with the guy.” Paul crushed his coffee cup then tossed it in the trash behind him. “Well, don’t. I’m telling you, it’s not worth it. The man has nothing to offer but a load of insanity.”

“Besides, fortune hunting isn’t your job.” Danny tossed his backpack over his shoulder, smacked Simon’s shoulder, then headed for the office door.

“Am I a part of this business or not?” He clenched his fist. Dammit, he knew better than to let his brothers’ attitude get to him, but…damn.

“Of course you are.” Paul draped his arm over Simon’s shoulder. “But we’ve told you to leave the hard work to the big boys.”

Danny held the doorknob, but didn’t open the door. “If you want to listen to the old man’s gibberish, go ahead. Shuffle him into the conference room, give him a cup of coffee, and pretend you’re listening. Then you can send him on his way to find someone foolish enough to take on his quest.” After pulling the door open, he walked out.

Simon stared at Paul. “You’re leaving him with me?”

“He did say he wanted to speak to the third boy. Besides, we’ve got a tip for another case to follow up on across town. You’ll be all right. Just do what Danny suggested. You’re good at talking to the clients. It’ll be no problem.” He grabbed his backpack from his office then joined Paul in the conference room. After a few minutes, they both emerged.

“Okay, little brother.” Paul glanced at his watch. “We should be back by noon.”

“Starla Jane is due in this morning. Do you want me to write down the information you need to give her?” Danny offered.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys. I’m not an idiot.”

They both chuckled. “If you say so,” Danny said before they both disappeared out the back door.

Simon was stuck in the office on his own…as usual. With a huff, he returned to the lobby.

The old man planted his palm on his thigh. “Well, laddie? Are you willing to give me the time of day?”

“Sure, come into the conference room so we can discuss your situation.” When the secret agent guy—Nigel—had settled his employer at the table, Simon said, “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea first?”

“Aye, tea, if you have it. Thanks.”

While he made the tea and a coffee for himself, he considered his options. What harm could it do to hear the old guy out?

Simon set the drinks on the table then sat across from the old man. Mr. Gray coughed, and his employee exited the room. Simon held his cup between his palms. “How can I help you, sir?”

“My family lost something very valuable a long time ago. I would like to hire you to find it for us.”

“What did you lose?”

“A box of treasure items from the early 1700s.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“My niece and I have narrowed it down to a few sites in the Scottish Highlands.” He sipped his drink, his gaze focused on the mug.

“I’d like to help you, but I’ll need more information.”

The old man’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “You want to help? Already?”

“Why? Is that so unusual?”

“Your brothers requested a bit more detail before they’d even consider it. Then, when I tried to provide it, they wouldn’t listen at all.”

Leaning forward, he clasped his hands in front of his cup. “Mr. Gray, I’m neither of my brothers.” No, he had a heart, morals. He longed to search for lost items and uncover the stories behind them. His brothers worked for the money. “Go ahead with your whole story. I’m listening.”

“In case you cannit tell, I’m not from around here. The south of Scotland is my homeland. From my days as a young lad, I heard tales of the great Gray treasure torn straight from the hands of the clan’s dying laird. Many men sought the thief, but none caught him with the treasure, so the legend says….” Mr. Gray sipped his drink while he shared more of the story. Someone had wronged his family, no one had cared enough in his generation to right the wrong, but he wanted to correct it before he died. Just like Paul had said. “My niece, Grace, is there already. She’ll assist you any way she can.” He called over his shoulder toward the door. “Nigel!”

Seconds later, the guy filled the doorway. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you bring me my briefcase so I can show Mr. Andrews the work already done?”

The man nodded and slipped outside. Mr. Gray gripped his arm. “Listen, laddie. I know everyone thinks I’m an old fool, but I know what I’m talking about. Grace has done much of the work already, but I’d like someone out there with her for the rest of the search, someone to take care of her. If you help her find the treasure, you’ll be well rewarded.”

He had to admit the paycheck would be nice, but he’d receive other rewards, too—like maybe proving to his brothers that he was capable of being a full partner. If the Scotsman’s information turned out to be legitimate, he’d go.

An hour later, Simon stood in the center of the lobby while Mr. Gray shuffled out the front door with a more solid step, his head held high and his human boulder right behind. He’d just agreed to go to Scotland to search for a treasure no one could verify existed. Waves of fear rolled through his stomach. His brothers wouldn’t understand, would call him a fool. But Simon wasn’t so simple. He was a grown man with a mind of his own.

He moved to the desk, the assistant’s desk he’d occupied for years as though he didn’t matter in the family business. For several hours, he contacted UK newspapers, libraries, and tour companies to verify Mr. Gray’s information. After inputting data on an air travel website, he reserved his seat on a flight to Edinburgh.

***

The wind whistled an eerie tune once Simon stepped out of the rented car and picked up his luggage. Pebbles shifted under his feet. The cool air sent a slight shiver down his back.

Before him stood a huge bed and breakfast, yellow with white trim and enough room for lots of guests. Turrets lined the top of the building like they guarded the stronghold. Two versions of Scottish flags waved. The overcast sky couldn’t put a damper on the lush green mountains surrounding the business. He’d thought the country’s capital nice, but the Highlands held their own beauty.

“Welcome!” A woman a bit older than he was, her belly bulging, waddled toward him. “I’m Jennie Maxwell. We’re so happy to have you join us.”

“Thank you. I have a reservation—”

“Aye, I know who ye are.” A copper strand slipped free from the tight bun at the base of her neck. She tucked it behind her ear, giving him a motherly smile. “At least I think I do. Mr. Andrews?”

“Yes.”

“We’re all ready for you. Do you want to come this way? I’ll get ye settled in.” She waddled inside with Simon following, a backpack slung over his shoulder, computer bag strapped across his chest, and an oversize duffle bag in his hand.

The warmth of the lobby fireplace surrounded him. Soft instrumental music floated through the air. The scent of some sweet treat drifted from a nearby room. The ancient walls held gigantic swords and carved wooden items. On a table by the staircase sat a tea tray carrying all the necessaries for coffee or tea and a glass water jug.

Jennie led him into a small office with two desks. He stopped in the doorway. The computer parked on the corner of one desk was layered with dust. Papers covered every inch of the desktops and chairs, leaving nowhere to sit.

With nimble fingers, she sifted through one of the piles. “Mr. Andrews, I’ve given you a room next to the lass who’s expecting you.”

“Mam, where are ye?” a small voice called from behind him. He peered at a mini version of the pregnant woman.

“Hush, lass. I’ll be with you in a moment. Can you say hello to Mr. Andrews?”

The kid couldn’t have been more than six. Her red curls flopped over her eyes as she chewed on one finger. “Hello.”

He crouched down. “Hi. What’s your name?”

“Bridget.”

“I’m Simon. Nice to meet you, Bridget.”

Her smile grew wider.

“Ah, here we are.” Keys jingled behind him.

Standing, he accepted the keys. “Thanks. You wouldn’t happen to know if Ms. McKay is in right now, would you?”

“Aye. She’s in our pub, having an afternoon cup of tea. It’s to the right of the door.” Bridget grabbed her mother’s fingers. “Bridge, go along now. I’ll be with ye in a bit.” But the little girl whined, refusing to release her mother’s hand. “Wssssht!” She tugged free of her child. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He held up the keys. “I’m all set for now, thank you.”

“All right. Dinner is served between six and nine o’clock.”

***

The soft Celtic tune eased the soreness from Grace’s shoulders. Closing her eyes, she rolled her head from side to side. People around her in the bar chatted away, some with thick Scottish accents, some with other European accents, a few speaking an unknown language. Maybe Gaelic. She’d heard some parts of Scotland were trying to revive the language.

The bone around her eye socket still ached—too much time rushing through the woods with scary animals on her ass. She broke off another piece of cheese scone and slipped it into her mouth as she perused the contents of the folder next to her plate. Cuddled together on a small red velvet settee in front of the fireplace, a middle-aged couple laughed. Grace set her chin in her palm. How wonderful to have such an easy, comfortable life. Normalcy looked so…tempting.

But not for her. She’d chosen a different lifestyle which kept her on her own 98 percent of the time. No big deal. After twelve years, she’d learned to live with it. Sometimes she even enjoyed it.

Shifting in her seat, she continued to review the file. The letters on the page blurred. How many days had she been searching for her uncle’s prize? How many years?

After sipping her tea, she picked up another piece of pastry. Midway to her mouth, she stopped. A tall, thin man, glasses clinging to the end of his nose, strode through the doorway and scanned the room. A loose-fitting, faded T-shirt covered his chest, and khaki shorts hung on his hips. Kind of thin and bony for her liking, although the soft shade of ginger hair with a hint of blond in it grabbed her attention. It reminded her of her favorite movie star. Both hands were inside his pockets.

With a crooked grin, he walked straight up to her table. “Grace McKay?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

He held out his long fingers. “I’m Simon Andrews.” He waited as if his name was supposed to mean something.

She didn’t shake his hand. “What can I do for you, Mr. Andrews?”

He lowered his arm. “Your uncle said you’d be helping me on my expedition here.” From his New England accent, he could only be American.

Uncle Thomas sent him? Of all the crappy things he’d done, this had to be the worst. Did he not believe in her enough to allow her to handle the job? She stood, gathering her papers. “My uncle was wrong. I don’t need any help with my expedition. Good-bye.” She shifted around him and started for the lobby. Studying her paperwork in her own room would suit her better.

“Ms. McKay, wait.” He grabbed her arm.

She froze. Every muscle tensed.

“I realize you want to help in the search, but your uncle hired me to—”

She tugged herself free. “I know what he hired you for, but I’m telling you, you’re fired.” As she stalked across the pub, many pairs of eyes stared at her, some wide in question, some narrowed. Who cared? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

“That’s not your call, sweetheart,” he said.

She jerked to a stop just inside the door and spun around, gritting her teeth. Andrews stood waiting, as cocky as could be, with his hands on his hips. “First, I am not your sweetheart. Second, I don’t need a partner.”