Hitched (Steele Ranch 4)

1

WILDER

* * *

January in Montana was cold as fuck. After a day of riding snowmobiles in the bright sunshine but close to zero temperatures, it felt good to be settled in front of a roaring fire, whiskey in hand. It paid to be friends with Micah and Colt, wilderness outfitters who had taken us on an awesome day into the national forest. There was nothing like seeing the great outdoors seated on two-hundred horsepower, but when we returned to Hawk’s Landing where we were staying for the weekend, we’d discovered the indoors was just as wild.

A man in leather pants and a snug black t-shirt led a woman by a leash. She wore a red leather skirt the size of a Band-Aid and a black bustier that made her breasts defy gravity. Yup, a leash. She had a collar about her neck and was content to follow a few steps behind, eyes down as they made their way to the resort’s conference room that had been converted for the night into a BDSM dungeon. A group from Billings had rented out the resort for the weekend—except for our two rooms. A dominatrix wearing black boots with lethal stiletto heels and a latex top had a man crawling behind her in the same direction across the resort’s great room. Thankfully, the two-story stone fireplace was lit and the heat had been set a touch warmer than usual since he wore nothing but a metal cock cage over his dick. The sight had me wincing and shifting on the leather couch. I didn’t mind a woman playing with my dick or my balls, but I liked a gentler approach—and the ability to come.

Unfortunately, the only woman I wanted anywhere near my dick wouldn’t be caught dead in fet wear. No, she was too sweet, too pure. Too innocent for anything as wild and kinky as what was happening tonight. Sarah Gandry was the woman I wanted to marry, not the woman I fucked in a dungeon. Well, I wanted to fuck her pretty much anywhere, but it turned out we weren’t compatible. At least, that was what she thought. I found her smart as fuck, gorgeous and perfect. Oh, and I loved her.

Shit, I shifted my dick in my jeans just thinking about her. She had gorgeous black hair and the perfect, very fuckable body. I’d never forget her plump lips. Yeah, she might not have my cock in a restraint, but she’d been leading me around by it for years.

And not just me, she had King pussy-whipped, too. And we hadn’t gotten anywhere near that pussy of hers.

“When I heard about the event this weekend, I was going to cancel, but we figured you’d be fine with this going on,” Micah said, leaning back in the big leather couch, feet on the coffee table, his glass of whiskey resting on his chest. He angled his head toward the fet event that was happening in a room behind him, the thumping of a deep base from Nine Inch Nails muted. “While you don’t live the lifestyle anymore, you aren’t bothered by it. Wouldn’t say shit about what you see.”

King shrugged from the chair beside mine, lifted his glass in salute. The furniture was set up in a U-shape in front of the fireplace, Micah facing it directly, us perpendicular.

King grinned. “Bothered? Hell, no. We just wish our girl was into it like we are, although neither of us have been to an event like this in a long time. As for letting anyone watch? I don’t care what others do, whatever floats their boat and all that. But if—”

“When,” I said, cutting him off.

“—when” —he corrected himself— “we get our girl between us, we’re not sharing her with others. No part of her. Not her gorgeous body, the sounds she makes or how she looks when she comes.”

“No fucking way,” I added, getting pissed just thinking of some bastard seeing Sarah like that. “That shit belongs to us.”

Yeah, our girl. King and I had been best friends since kindergarten and we’d wanted Sarah for years, since before she was even legal. Watched out for her longer than that. Being six years older, we’d bided our time—we might be into kink, but we didn’t go for jail bait—until she’d finished college and returned to Barlow, to date her. Separately, so we didn’t scare her off. Dinner, movies, bowling. Chaste kisses at her front door.

God, they’d been sweet, but it had been almost impossible not to push her up against her front door, nudge my thigh between hers and feel the heat of her pussy even through my jeans as I took her mouth in a claiming kiss. That’s what I’d wanted to do with her. Sink into her and lose my mind, make her lose hers.

But she hadn’t been interested. She hadn’t responded to the brush of my lips against her brow, along the corner of her mouth. No gasp of breath, no clench of fingers on my biceps. No lifting her face to mine for more.

No, she hadn’t been interested in the tender attentions either of us showed her and had ultimately turned us down, one after the other. Strange, because we’d been sure she’d been into us. Every time we ran into her, interest had flared in her eyes, her cheeks had turned pink. And when I’d picked her up at the door, she’d been eager. But by the end of the date, nothing. Just a small smile, a quick thank you before she’d gone inside and closed the door in my face. King had said the same had happened to him.

The rejection had stung, and still did. It was confusing because up until I’d walked her to the door we’d had a good time. Being with Sarah felt like being home. It was always easy, no nervous silences. We’d known each other so well already. And yet…no desire. No passion, as I’d hoped. As King had hoped, too. But that didn’t mean we didn’t stop wanting her. No, we were men who got what we wanted, and we wanted Sarah. We just had to be patient and think of our next plan of attack.

Micah grinned. “I didn’t know you had a girl. Congrats.”

King’s smile slipped. “We don’t,” he grumbled. “Well, we do, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He took a sip of his drink. “We want a relationship like yours.”

“What?” Micah frowned, suddenly wary. “With a movie star?”

“Fuck, Micah, you know us better than that,” I told him. Obviously, he was protective of his wife. “We don’t give a shit that Lacey’s famous. We want a woman to share like you and Colt do. Like Matt and Ethan, too,” I added, referring to the resort’s owners. The two men shared a wife as well. Rachel.

“Not just any woman, we want to share Sarah,” King clarified, lifting a finger from the side of his glass and pointed. “We just have to figure out how to get her.”

Damned straight. There was interest there, even if she’d said no to additional dates. Her eyes lit up when she saw me—and I stopped by the library for more than books—but that hadn’t swayed her into another date. It made no sense.