Fill Her Up (Daly Way Series, Book Three) Read online

  She made a disbelieving sound. “And why should I stay?”

  Patrick was silent for a moment, his dark green eyes solemn as he probed her gaze. “For the same reason you should have stayed before.”

  Without a word, he opened the drawer in the side table between two wingchairs in his bi-level living room. He scooped out something then pulled her over to the iron railing between the upper and lower portions of living space. The sunken area featured a fireplace, a large thick rug and a huge sectional.

  She dug in her heels. She wasn’t racing into his love pit. And that’s what it struck her as—a place to make love to a woman on the piled carpeting before the fire. He paused at the two steps leading down to the “pit” then pulled her wrist to the railing. When he opened his hand, she saw he’d retrieved a pair of handcuffs from the table. Her effort to escape renewed and redoubled, but he quickly had her shackled to the railing.

  “Is this what you do now!” she demanded, rattling the cuff and looking for a release lever. These were the real deal and only a key would let her go. “You have to chain up women? Have you descended so low?”

  “Watch it, Verity, or you’ll see just how far I will go. I’m going to clean up and I don’t want you running away.”

  “Damn it, Patrick!”

  He headed away down the hallway, ignoring her struggle and her swearing. When it became apparent that he didn’t intend to return—at least right away—she sank onto the step and stared into the empty fireplace. Her head rested against one iron upright.

  He wouldn’t rape her, so she wasn’t scared of that. Though ten years had passed, she knew he’d never resort to that. He wouldn’t have to. Her body was making that clear…and he’d just managed to find the thing she’d often fantasized about when she’d been alone in her bed during college and veterinary school. Bondage. And damn it. He’d starred in too many of those dreams—him and Sim.

  A door slammed in another part of the house and she heard water go on. There was nothing she could do but wait and tell her body to freaking calm down. She wasn’t engaging in sex with Patrick or Sim. She wasn’t getting embroiled in the mindless sensation again and forgetting that she had her real life waiting for her—it didn’t matter how he looked at her with the roguish smile that had always made her insides flutter.

  His effect on her hadn’t lessened. His green eyes still devoured her. He was still mouth-watering. His wide shoulders, firm muscles, black hair and sparkling gaze all called to her. Today, he wore a white T-shirt stretched across his powerful muscles and she knew from feeling him against her as he’d effortlessly propelled her to his desire, that he did more working out than required for auto work. His shoulders were still impossibly wide and his torso tapered sharply into lean, narrow hips.

  Somewhere along the line, he’d picked up a thorny, black-inked band that circled his left biceps and made her mouth water. Odd, since she didn’t usually go for tattoos, but then, everything about him made her salivate, from his build to his manner to his enticing male scent—oh…his scent. All male and pine and outdoors and clean, hardworking sweat—

  Shit. She was in trouble.

  * * * *

  After Patrick finished washing his hands with the mechanic’s soap he kept on the bathroom vanity, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sim Germaine, his best friend since childhood.

  “Damn it, Patrick, you know I’m in the middle of an arms deal. What do you want?”

  They shared the house, but Sim was a writer and he liked to work in solitude. Apparently, the house that was empty while Patrick worked wasn’t solitude enough. He preferred a small, one-room cabin out in BFE that he rented from one of the area’s ranchers.

  Patrick laughed. “Better hope Big Brother isn’t tapping your phone. Save your manuscript, close your laptop and come home.”

  “Why? I have a deadline.”

  “Verity’s here.”

  There was a long pause as Sim digested what he’d said. “Verity? Our Verity?”

  “Yes. Do you know another one?” Patrick leaned his hip against the sink.

  “What are you going to do?” Sim asked.

  “Make her regret leaving Daly and us.”

  Sim made a disbelieving sound. “I’m sure she’ll just go along with that. Huh,” he laughed. “Not the Verity I recall.”

  “Just come home and stop being a dick,” Patrick growled.

  “Hey, who’s interrupting whose work? And how exactly am I being a dick?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Sim paused before finally answering, “Thanks for the lovely offer.”

  Patrick disconnected the call without responding and shoved his phone into his pants pocket. He wasn’t going to banter with Sim over supposed entendre right now. This was serious, not a game.

  His pulse revved as he imagined Verity between him and Sim. That was a game he’d readily go for. One of them would make her come while the other would lave her nipples until she writhed from the sensual torture. Their hands would run all over her, and only after she’d found release again would they claim her body with their cocks—one filling her pussy while the other took pleasure in her mouth…or maybe her ass.

  His cock jumped, wanting to feel her sweet nectar again. He had to wait for Sim. They were in this together. She was theirs, not just his.

  With a fortifying breath, he reached into the shower. He’d at least be clean when Sim got home.

  * * * *

  Verity straightened as she heard Patrick return to the living room, but she didn’t stand, choosing rather to rattle her wrist at him and glare.

  “Let me go. C’mon, this isn’t funny…” Her words cut off as he crouched beside her and drew his thumb along her bottom lip. To her chagrin, warmth flooded through her, and she felt the folds of her pussy swell. Her breath caught in her chest, arrested as arousal slammed into her with the force of an NFL linebacker.

  With eyes wide, she watched his head dip forward and knew she was powerless to stop him—not because he’d force her but because her body and soul wanted this so badly. It was only her head that insisted she hadn’t missed him at all, and even that voice was growing smaller and smaller.

  His lips brushed over hers in the lightest of feathery, coaxing touches. He wanted her to fold then melt for him. Without thought, she parted her lips. There was nothing to do for it… She’d always given him this. Nostalgia and denied need warred, as she accepted his tongue and inhaled his fresh-from-the-shower scent. Irish Spring intertwined with the ever so faint smell of oil and rubber. It combined with the undeniable notes of rugged man. Every bit of him was so masculine goose bumps erupted on her skin.

  Lost, she leaned into him and let him have her mouth.

  Cinnamon… He still chewed cinnamon gum, and the taste of it lingered on his tongue as he stroked languidly along her own. Though urgency screamed through her veins, there was nothing urgent in his kiss—at least, not up front. She could feel the restrained power as he claimed her mouth, taking his time to explore and claim the recess. He was waiting. This was just the beginning.

  “Patrick,” she gasped, pulling back. “I can’t—”

  “You’re not a virgin, honey. I know that for sure. It was my cock that made it so.”

  Her pussy clenched, despite his coarse language.

  “And I’m sure it hasn’t been empty the past ten years.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she muttered before she stopped herself. Now, why the hell had she told him that. She’d been busy; that was all. And she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.

  As a slow grin lifted one side of his mouth, she knew she’d just done exactly that. He thought she’d been pining after him and Sim.

  Self-consciously, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. A reciprocal flare of desire momentarily lit his eyes. She couldn’t help feeling normal, plain-Verity had somehow slipped into an alternate reality. No… She’d been living the alternate reality since she’d moved away from this place. She’
d been living in a place where people courted…dated…and they didn’t decide they’d met their “one” the moment they met her. She used to joke that it was something in the water that gave the men the mystical power of “knowing”. But she didn’t believe it was so mystical anymore. It was just lust.

  And the gnawing in her belly, told her she had it bad.

  Without forethought, she reached for Patrick, bringing his mouth back to her. The handcuff rattled on the railing, but she didn’t care anymore. She’d wanted to try bondage. This was close enough.

  Patrick didn’t hold back this time. His arms were steel bands around her as he drew her to his body and claimed her mouth. Wet and hot, they kissed mindlessly. The world seemed to whirl around her, but all that was really in focus was the feel of his lips on hers and the thrust of his tongue against hers. She wasn’t sure how she got to her back on the two stairs, her arm flung out to the side and her wrist still attached to the iron upright. She didn’t know how Patrick ended up over her, his slim hips between her thighs. Their clothing separated them, but the hard ridge of his cock pressed tight to her pussy.

  She whimpered as he ground into her, his erection managing to slide along her clit. She lifted a leg around his hip to give him better access…to give him permission. Permission…

  A few minutes together, and she was giving herself to him?

  “Just one time,” she gasped. “Just this one time…”

  “The whole weekend,” he countered. “Until Monday morning. Give Sim and me the whole weekend.”

  “I can’t.” She’d be lost in them. She’d never find her way out.

  “You can. No one knows you’re here. A few more days won’t make a difference.” He curled her free arm up over her head, trapping her fully beneath him while he kissed along her neck. He hadn’t shaved again when he’d showered and the slight bit of bristle since this morning abraded her exposed skin. The feel of him, the feel of a man’s skin and the weight of him on her, was something no vibrator could mimic.

  Sadness filled her at the knowledge she’d be back to that soon. She pushed it away and focused on now. This moment, with his mouth traveling to her breast. She moaned as he captured the peak, making her shirt damp as he sucked her deep. His tongue pressed against the rigid nubbin, circling the sensitive areola around the tip.

  Verity dropped her head back, pressing in to him. A whole weekend… Forty or fifty-some hours with him and Sim—she couldn’t do the math now. Not with him driving her right to climax with his attention to her nipple. She could have this. Until Monday. Complete out and out abandon.

  “Okay,” she whispered, still afraid she was making a mistake. “Until Monday morning. The whole weekend.”

  He lifted his head, the devil in his eyes. “And the whole treatment.”

  That look meant trouble. He’d tricked her. “And…what’s that?” she asked, hardly caring but needing to know.

  “Me and Sim. And the two friends we have coming in for the weekend. They get here tonight.”

  The moment between them froze as they stared at each other. Thoughts raced through her mind as he simply watched her, waiting.

  Four. Four men. She’d heard of some women in Daly being in fivesomes. Was there even such a word as fivesome? Was it more like an orgy?

  “Four of you?” she finally whispered.

  He nodded and released the wrist he’d been holding. Gently, he stroked the hair back from her face. “You’ll be safe.”

  “Is this because you’re pissed with me?” she asked. He was angry and now he wanted to pass her around.

  He shook his head. “That’s another matter and something we need to deal with later. This is about you and learning that ménage isn’t the awful thing you think it is. And about fun and exploration. Sim and I will keep you safe. It will be clear that you belong to us and nothing goes without us and our permission.

  “Four…” she whispered, half to herself.

  “Four,” he repeated.

  “And you’ll be right here?” Which was a far cry from her attitude a little bit ago when she’d wanted to be as far from him as possible.

  “Right here, baby.”

  She bit her lip then, after a moment, nodded. “Okay. I’ll do the weekend…and everything.”

  Chapter Three

  The rain began to fall in fat drops, spattering loudly on the skylight as they stared at each other.

  “You know this place,” he finally said. “Most of us practice ménage. There aren’t enough women so we all share. It’s usually a couple men to one woman. Sometimes more.”

  “You don’t have to explain it to me. My parents lived the lifestyle, remember?”

  That green-eyed stare held her, and she fought the need to squirm. He seemed to vibrate power. Knowledge. Restrained sexual need.

  “I find I prefer it,” he told her. “The sight of Sim’s hands on the woman we’re sharing. The sound of her moans as he pulls at her nipples and makes her squirm. The sight of her reacting to him and lifting her hips, and the sound of her cries muffled by his mouth as I take her pussy and make her come.”

  Her fingernails bit into her palms as she listened. His words titillated her while vicious jealousy made her want to scream “no” because this man—and Sim—was hers. They couldn’t fuck anyone else. She looked away before he saw the full weight of her torment. Who was she to object? She’d left. Had she expected the young men they’d been to become monks and swear off the female race?

  “There’s nothing like the feeling of Sim’s cock rubbing against mine as we fuck a woman at the same time.”

  “Shut up,” she whispered. Her mouth had gone dry while her pussy had gotten very wet at his vivid description. She wanted to experience exactly what he described. But she didn’t want to hear about other women.

  “It bothers you to hear?”

  Her ire stirred. “What do you think, Dick Tracy?”

  “Fair enough. You don’t tell us what you’ve done.”

  “I already told you. Nothing to tell.”

  “Shh…not a word.”

  She could see the glee in his eyes. He liked that she hadn’t been with another. She knew why. What he’d said to her might be burned into her consciousness forever. Still some of what he’d said pricked at her—the part about Sim.

  “Are…are you bisexual?” she asked.

  “No, I’m not. Not really. I don’t mind Sim touching me, and I don’t freak out from feeling his cock while we make love to—while we’re in a ménage, but that’s it. So…I don’t know. Does that make me bisexual? A little maybe.”

  Her core gave a little aroused shiver. “A little bit” bi-sexual could be more without much thought. The vision of Patrick sucking another man’s cock suddenly filled her mind’s eye. Her blood pumped a little faster, throbbing at the base of her neck as she tried to swallow.

  He cupped the back of her head then leaned forward and closed the gap between their mouths. Helplessly, Verity groaned on a wash of emotion. The feeling of his mouth on hers roused so many conflicted sensations within her, but nothing was more important than giving her all to this weekend and experiencing her two ex-lovers as mature men.

  Her torso arched toward him, and his other hand came up to join the first. His fingers dug into her scalp. She could feel his need. He couldn’t wait until they were together. Though he hadn’t said so, she suspected he was waiting for Sim.

  Patrick coaxed her lips apart, quickly taking and owning her mouth. His tongue thrust against hers, rough against soft, determined against submitting.

  “Are we sharing or do I just get to watch?” asked an amused, deep voice.

  She broke away from Patrick’s mouth. “Sim!” she exclaimed.

  “Better greeting than I got,” Patrick grumbled.

  “You warmed me up.”

  “So now we’re tying up women to keep them?” Sim cut in. “This is your plan?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Sim sighed. “You keep offering…”


  “Cut it out!” his friend growled. Verity felt him tense above her. Even more, his cock jerked against her cunt. Oh, he was interested. Cream seeped into her pussy as she imagined them together. It confused her—shouldn’t she want them to be interested in her and only her? Still, she didn’t care that they liked each other too.

  “Come ‘ere,” she said to Sim, beckoning to him with her fingers. Intensity rolled off him and electrified her senses, raising the small hairs along her arms—a warning, but not dire. She had to be prepared. Between the two of these men, she’d be perched at the pinnacle of a gigantic coaster. The three of them together would send her careening into the unknown at breakneck speed—and then when their friends arrived, that train might fly right off the tracks.

  Sim knelt to her side then bent over her. He looked similar enough to Patrick to be his brother. The first time she’d seen him, she’d actually thought one of the O’Keefe cousins had come to town. Like Patrick, he’d grown more muscular and had inked his body, though Sim’s tattooing was more extreme. A full sleeve stretched up his left arm.

  A damp shock of his hair flopped roguishly over his light brown eyes. He’d had to dash through the rain to get here. His black T-shirt was dry though, and she glanced behind him. A dripping slicker hung from a hook near the door. It was pouring outside. It reminded her of the many times the three of them had made love in the bed of Patrick’s old truck with the rain pounding on the camper top. They’d done it out in a downpour more than once too. Hell, she’d been damn lucky she hadn’t gotten pneumonia.

  As Sim brushed his lips over hers, she wondered if it would have been such an awful thing. They would have tried to take care of her, just as they’d wanted to “do right” by her when she’d gotten pregnant. Had she not miscarried, she would have spent her life here with them.

  And you would have gotten nowhere, Verity, she reminded herself. Just enjoy this weekend then leave your memories behind.

  Verity bit her lip as she looked around. Sim wanted to capture the tormented flesh with his own teeth then kiss her. He kissed the tip of her nose to get her attention as Patrick moved to the side. She stared up at him with the wide brown eyes that had always melted his insides. Her big eyes could get him to do anything.