STORY EXCERPT

Trixie slipped into yesteryear and revisited memories. “It’s so strange to find this place just the way we left it.”

“Cow Camp isn’t the same, Trixie,” Brock said, acting overly concerned. “It will never be the same again.”

She stopped. “I know, Brock. I didn’t grow up here like you and Rory, but Cow Camp still means a lot to me. I spent one incredible life-changing summer here.”

“One fateful summer,” Rory said, a gleam in his eye. Brock shot him a scornful look, and Rory quickly turned away. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?” Trixie asked, determined to lighten the mood since Brock seemed hell-bent on the opposite.

Rory lifted his chin. “I was referring to the good times.” He pointed at the long leather couch. “Let’s all take a walk down Memory Lane. Shall we?”

“I’d rather not,” Brock grumbled.

“Oh but I want to,” he said, wrapping his arms around Trixie’s waist. “I’ll never forget the look on Brock’s face the day you walked in here and slapped that poncho against the sofa. You had mascara caked under your eyes. Your crimped hair was dripping like you’d just stepped out of the shower, and you were dressed in that damned white T-shirt.”

“Ah yeah,” Brock said, grinning then. “We all referred to that hot little number as ‘the shirt’ from then on.”

Trixie snorted. “The only thing I remember is being mad as all hell.”

“That was a front,” Brock assured her.

“No it wasn’t,” she said. “I can’t remember why I was so pissed, but the anger was real.” She paused as another flashback entered her mind then. Suddenly, she burst into laughter, tears freefalling from her eyes.

“What is it?” Brock seemingly admired her as if he could eat her up like pancakes, syrup, and butter.

She waved her hand in front of her face. “On the day with the poncho. Don’t you remember? Mitch flew around the desk with a large towel. He draped it over me and started a lecture about catching pneumonia.”

“I do remember,” Rory said, taking a seat on the edge of Mitch’s desk. He threw his head back and laughed. “The best part was when you dropped the towel.”

“Dropped hell. She threw the doggone thing aside with great force.” Brock stretched his legs forward. Trixie eyed the bulge nestled between his thighs, moistening her lips as she distinctly recalled that same look over seven years ago.

“I’ll never forget what you said next.” Rory shook his finger at Brock and together they said, “That’s not your slickest move, sugar.”

Trixie’s nipples spiked as soon as they chimed in together. It was as if she’d been tossed back into the past and was trapped there then.

Her eyes met Brock’s, and then her gaze shifted to Rory. Before her lust took hold and grabbed the best of her, a twinge of sadness crept up behind her and held her hostage.

Turning away from them, she stared at the executive chair behind Mitch’s desk. “He always thought he was such a boss.”

“He was the boss,” Rory reminded her.

“He proudly wore the title for sure,” she said, dragging her fingers over the curvature of the chair Mitch had once occupied. She took a seat and smoothed her hands across the desk calendar, not really paying attention to the dated sheet beneath her fingertips, but more or less marveling in the fact that everything she touched once belonged to a man she still loved.

“What are you thinking?” Brock asked, frowning.

She looked at the walls lined with photographs of distant summers. Memories were forever etched in those images, yet Brock and Rory pretended not to notice.

As if the silence needed interruption, Rory said, “Mitch definitely took his job to the extreme. I pulled a few kitchen duties for punishment.”

“Ah yes, the argument that started it all,” Trixie drawled, tucking away the sadness in hopes of finding joy in happier times.

“Our first kiss was so worth his wrath,” Rory told her, leaning over the desk and planting a peck on her lips.

“You didn’t think so at the time.”

“Oh yes he did.” Brock stretched his arms high above his head before locking clasped hands behind his neck. “Don’t kid yourself. He thought he had earned a major one-up on all of us.”

“That’s why Mitch threw out the dish duty?” Trixie asked.   

“Absolutely,” Rory replied.  

“Mitch has lived his entire adult life focusing on rewards and punishment, Trixie,” Brock explained. “I’m a little surprised you don’t remember that much about him.”

“How could I forget,” she whispered, realizing her voice trailed then. “Being here makes me remember practically everything about him.”

Rory and Brock swapped a knowing glance. Their shared look absolutely chapped her ass because those exchanges were the only times when she felt completely left out.

The room was dreadfully silent again.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know. For the last twenty-four hours, Brock and Rory had seemed slightly guarded.

Brock took a deep breath. “We all needed to get away.”

“Why?” Her gaze hopped between men. “Why now?”

“You know why,” Brock replied, rising from the sofa. He stood in front of her with his arm extended. “Come on, baby. Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll go explore and see what’s changed and what will forever remain the same.”

She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to him. When she landed against his chest, she caught a glimpse of another picture on the credenza. The photo left her teary-eyed. Pushing away from Brock, she slowly approached the piece of recently polished furniture and picked up the eight-by-ten frame.

“How’d this get here?” she asked, realizing an accusation was thick in her tone.

“Beats me,” Rory replied.

“I haven’t seen it,” Brock admitted, peering over her shoulder.

Trixie shook the picture in their direction. “I haven’t either, but I remember when it was taken. It was the day before Stephen kidnapped me.”

Brock and Rory leaned in closer. Trixie felt a suffocating sensation and quickly grabbed hold of the credenza, processing what this might potentially mean.

“He’s been here,” Trixie said, glancing around the office for anything else that might be inconspicuously out of place.

ADULT EXCERPT

“Lie back, sub,” Brock said, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving her a gentle push. Dragging his lips over hers, he whispered, “Behave. You’ll be properly rewarded. I promise.”

He stepped away then and undressed by the bed. She watched Rory with fierce devotion as he continued teasing her, driving her to the brink of an orgasm but refusing to finish his grand performance while his face was buried between her legs.

Mitch joined them, naked and glorious. He was just as handsome as the last time he had taken her to his bed. Still, she felt cheated. He’d taken away some of her pleasure by stripping away her opportunity to undress him.

“You’re so beautiful, sub,” Mitch said, cupping her cheek. Dragging his thumb over her lip, he glanced at Rory but then straddled her chest. His cock rested between her breasts and he played with her nipples, pinching or twirling them before caressing them with the pads of his fingers.

Splendid new sensations flew through her body, tantalizing her nerve endings as his hands continually pampered her. He stared at her lips, moistened his, and leaned in for a kiss.

Mitch wasn’t one for romance, but the kiss he initiated ranked high on her list of most ravenous kisses. He framed her face and his tongue moved from side to side, gliding inside her mouth before twirling in a beautiful sequence with her tongue.

Breathless, she drew him closer. A moan slipped from her lungs and she embedded her fingers in his hair, raking her fingernails across his scalp. She tried to bring him still closer, more determined to hold him in place.

She wanted his kiss to last forever. She longed for reassurance he was there for the duration. And he’d never leave her again.

Her legs widened and Rory thrust inside her pussy. His tongue seemed to work in time with Mitch’s kiss and she was thrown into a realm of ecstasy she had never known.

Brock sat beside her. Rory took her to the brink once more only to leave her pumping her hips continuously with nothing there to sate the desire. His mouth was too far away now to soothe the burn.

Rory rose from between her legs. Mitch broke their kiss. Brock shifted his weight, hooking his arm over her head and staring down on her as if he appreciated her more than he ever had in the past or ever would in the future.

She wanted to stay locked in time, stuck in that very minute, but right when she was convinced their special moments together should be framed for safekeeping, they formed a tighter circle around her.

They kissed and caressed her. Their hands worked in tandem, moved in time as they scoured her body, exploring her flesh with circular patterns. Their fingers brushed up and down her torso. Their legs entwined.

Fingers pinched her nipples while other hands cupped her full breasts. As they probed her ass and pussy, she was left to long for a more fulfilling penetration.

Steady. Oh God, they were too slow and ever so steady as they fingered her, touched her, and acted as if they had orchestrated this night for well over a dozen years.  

Sweet vibrations spiraled through her body as an unfamiliar level of hotness swept over her. She might as well have been leading them to her sex with one perpetual smoke signal, an intimate inferno destined to leave them all gasping for air, begging for one uninhibited drawn breath.

Their hands propelled over her then with fiery precision. Skill existed in their fingertips. Experience lingered in their actions. Their heated bodies came together then in a wicked decree, a declaration of sorts. The combustion was a mix of love and lust, a dance of intimacy too wild to name.

In the end, Rory took the position behind her. Mitch and Brock towered over her.

Then, to her surprise and her inexplicable pleasure, Mitch and Brock locked their arms and entered her pussy together.

She gasped then whimpered, purring out in divine acceptance. She was unaccustomed to such a wide impalement, but her body stretched and welcomed the intrusion more with every stroke.

Rory worked his cock inside her ass, taking her an inch at a time.

Her gaze darted between men as she took in the picture, too pretty to paint, too erotic even for her naughtiest fantasies. This kind of loving was too hot, too delicious, and far too exquisite to have ever imagined.

Daydreams wouldn’t have done the act justice.

They moved together, stroking her at the same time. Rory penetrated her from behind, pushing the weight of his cock in and out as his breathing became reckless, far from controlled.

Mitch stared down at her pussy. Then, his head dropped over his shoulders. Brock flattened his hand against Mitch’s arm, steadying himself as they thrust inside her, each stroke heavier, harder, and reaching far deeper.

“More.” She practically sighed out her request.

Her head rolled from side to side. She closed her eyes as her orgasm rushed forward. The ginger had worked its magic, mixing with her bodily fluids to create a warming lubricant. The effects were sinful, wicked, and oh so intense.

“Come!” Mitch ordered, jerking forward.

He damn sure wouldn’t need to ask twice.