The Farmer's Daughter

And Sam.

He sits in a chair on the far side of the room, his head bowed and tipped toward the door, hot eyes tracking my movements, his expression dangerous and desperate, hands clasped tightly together between his legs.

I’m a lamb that’s wandered from the meadow into wolf territory.

Willingly.

The door clicks shut behind me, setting off a sharp firework in my belly. Miles settles a hand around the back of my neck and I moan at the warm, unexpected pressure, my legs going weak.

“Look at her. She comes to us in a nightshirt with her panties peeking out. Does she really think we need any more help hitting our breaking points?” Miles’s hand climbs higher into my hair, fisting the thick strands, and I struggle to keep my balance, it feels so good. Like I’ve been waiting forever to have this man touch me in any way. “Do you see those innocent nipples through her shirt?”

“Yes,” Sam answers raggedly.

Miles’s tongue teases the skin of my neck. “If you’re lucky, I might let you suck them.”

“Might?” I whisper, a line forming between my brows.

“Might,” the man behind me confirms, his hardness pressing to the curve of my bottom. Grinding. “Last chance to run away, Cassie. We want to give you pleasure, but Jesus Christ, look at us. Look at how our obsession with you has taken hold. We haven’t even fucked you yet. What do you think we’ll be like after?”

Sam sits back in his chair, revealing the bulge in his jeans. “Do you want to find out, baby?” His golden eyes are almost otherworldly in the lamplight. “Be sure.”

Since I walked in the door, I’ve grown wetter than I can remember being in my whole, admittedly short, life. There’s a humming vibration in my belly, yearning radiating from every nerve ending. I can barely stand I’m inundated by such desire for these animals to unleash themselves on me.

It feels like a homecoming. Where I’m meant to be.

They feel like where I’m meant to be.

“I’m sure,” I whisper, sagging back against Miles.

Both men whisper a prayer of relief. “One more thing,” Miles rasps against my ear. “I make the rules, Cassie. Do you agree to that?”

Relief lets me know this is the right thing. This is one of the many reasons I needed Miles and Sam. Miles for his protective nature. His knowledge of me. The way he makes me feel coveted. Needy. Sam for his explosive hunger and the promise of more than I could ever imagine. “Yes. I agree.”

“Good girl.” I can sense him staring hard at Sam over my shoulder. “No fucking her tonight, understand? Not yet, no matter how badly that virgin hole tempts us. She had her first kiss less than twenty-four hours ago. Hasn’t even seen a man’s cock yet, let alone taken two at the same time. We break her in slowly.”

“The last thing I want to do is scare her,” Sam says, coming to his feet slowly. “But hell, I need a taste of something. Any part of her. I’m dying.”

Miles grunts. “Sam, go sit on the couch in the living room.”

Sam hesitates. At first I think his pride is getting in the way of doing as Miles asks, but the hunger banked in his eyes tells a different story. Like he doesn’t mind the order as much as he’s letting on. With a smirk in Miles’s direction, Sam strips off his white T-shirt before swaggering to the living room, the low light kissing his flexing, tattooed brawn all the way, the muscles of his thighs testing the confines of his jeans. My God, how did two of the sexiest, most masculine men on the planet happen to end up in the same place at the same time? The universe must be imbalanced.

“Come,” Miles says, picking me up in his arms and following after Sam. We stop in front of the couch where Sam has flopped down, one arm thrown over the back of the cushions. His posture is casual, but his eyes are almost black with thirst.

For me.

My pulse races in response.

“Seems to me, we better start off on even ground,” Miles says, voice low. “I got to kiss her last night. Now you get a turn.”

Sam’s chest starts to heave. “Please.”

Miles strokes a hand over my hair. “Straddle him, Cassie. Just like you’re riding a horse.”

Breathless, I settle one knee onto the couch and then the other, my backside settling onto Sam’s thighs. We’re still kind of far apart, but his magnetism is almost too much to bear up close. True to Miles’s comparison to riding a horse, Sam does remind me of a stallion that has yet to be broken.

“Scoot closer,” Miles says, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Just a little. I don’t want your pussy touching his cock yet. I don’t want to have to haul him off you when he can’t help himself and tries to fuck it.”