The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Stacey Espino Page A

Book: The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Stacey Espino Read Free Book Online
Authors: Stacey Espino
Tags: Romance
over the swell of her stomach. She didn’t brush him away this time, too far gone to worry about being self-conscious. There were so many hands that she had trouble keeping track. He whispered in her ear. “Was that your first orgasm last night, Rachel?”
    She shook her head.
    “How many then?” He smoothed his hand up her center, so close to her achy nipples.
    Her breathing was heavy. She tried to control herself before speaking so she didn’t sound too affected. Rachel wanted to appear more experienced, savvier in the ways of men. “Lots.”
    “Lies. You’re lucky you’re here and not in the private stable,” said Wyatt. He nuzzled her neck, his hot breath echoing in her ear. Her eyes lolled back in her head as she continued to slip under the erotic spell.
    “What–what stable?”
    “Never mind that,” he said. “Now tell me the truth. How many men have given you an orgasm?”
    They didn’t desist in their sensual exploration, even when awaiting her answer. One of them covered her areola, gorging on her full breast. She loved the sensual tugging on her nipple, each pull triggering a pulsing need in her core.
    “I can’t remember,” she said. It was embarrassing to admit that she’d had her first orgasm yesterday, after twenty-eight years. Why did they care one way or another?
    Wyatt made a sound similar to a growl. She felt his rough hand against her stomach as he slipped under her panties. He boldly speared her pussy with two thick fingers, making her gasp aloud. She arched her back and looked him in the eyes, his fingers still firmly inside her. Rachel wanted them deeper, anything to cure her of the ache. “How many, sugar?”
    She closed her eyes and exhaled her lies. “None. Last night was the first.” Rachel turned away from him, feeling ashamed of her inexperience. That’s when she saw Ethan smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
    “Hear that, Wyatt? I don’t think she’s your type after all.”
    He partially withdrew his fingers and then began to fuck her with them. She could feel his hard cock against her side, a virile reminder of what was hopefully to come. “She’ll do just fine,” said Wyatt. “I think I’m starting to tire of loose women.”
    What did he consider her? Part of her was still an insecure, overweight child and always would be. She’d lived a sheltered life, never really living. Now she wanted to change all that, to emerge from the ashes as a strong, independent woman.
    Ethan suckled her breast as Wyatt continued to toy with her cunt. The onslaught of stimulation overpowered her logic. She didn’t care about yesterday or tomorrow. Sexual relations with these cowboys were like a drug, capable of making her forget all her worries, all her pain.
    “Does that feel good?” asked Ethan.
    She nodded, unsure if he was referring to the stimulation of her pussy or nipple. It didn’t matter.
    He proceeded to strip out of his clothing, roughly tugging the layers of material off and tossing everything to the floor. “I want to be inside you so badly, darlin’. You’ve been on my mind since yesterday. Will you let me?”
    Rachel swallowed hard. She’d never been asked for her permission before. It felt odd, and it didn’t feel ladylike to consent. She really wanted to tell him to fuck her hard and fast, no holding back. But instead of voicing her needs, she kept silent.
    When she examined the hard planes of Ethan’s body, she noted there wasn’t an extra inch of fat. His stomach was washboard trim, his skin a sun-kissed hue. What could he see in her? A man so fit should be disgusted by a woman who didn’t put the same effort into her appearance. But as the pressure rose within her, her coherent thoughts faded. What did it matter what they thought? They were both here, giving her exactly what she needed. It was a fantasy lived, if nothing else. Any woman would kill to spend a night with such perfect specimens of brawn and good looks rolled into one.
    “No promises,” said

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