Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (29 page)

Tucker closed a hand around Christian’s biceps. “My turn.”

They broke away. With a grin, Christian moved a foot toward Tucker. Their mouths connected gently. Claire’s sweet flavors passed to his lips, making his cock bob in the air.

Simultaneously, she and Christian touched him. Two hands, ten fingers, all playing over his shaft. She worked low, scooping his balls against his body, while a rough finger rode the underside in the way only Christian could touch him.

A roar built in his throat. If they were in the house, he’d scream the walls down. But to release a cry into the night might shake loose a star or two, and he couldn’t have that.

He swallowed his sounds, eyes closed in bliss.

When Christian’s hand left his cock, Claire’s took over. Her nimble fingers worked him like no other. Curling, squeezing perfectly before releasing.

“Stop. Can’t.” His vocabulary was reduced to one-syllable sentences.

Christian fitted himself with a condom. He ran his fingers around the foil packet, and Tucker’s body flexed with the idea of Christian lubing those thick fingers to slip into his body.

Claire stared up at him with want etched all over her beautiful face. Tucker could stand no more. He gripped his cock and rubbed it over her slit, bottom to top. Coating himself in her juices. At the top, he lightly chafed her button with the head.

She squirmed and mewed. He glided his cock through her folds once more, down to her soaking heat.

“Please,” she gasped.

“Fuck.” Another one-word sentence but it meant surrender. With a hard nudge, he sank balls deep.

Her heat enveloped him. Her walls quivered, then contracted tightly.

“I’m…coming again,” she choked, the tiny point of her chin to the heavens, her arms thrown wide.

For an excruciating minute he thought he’d blow. Without warning, Christian drove a finger deep into his ass. Pain mingled with pleasure, but it grounded him long enough to gain control.

Tucker cradled Claire’s ass and pushed her up his shaft, then brought her back to him, sealing their bodies. She shuddered.

“She’s coming unglued,” Christian said quietly beside Tucker’s ear. “Just what we want.”

“Shit,” Tucker managed. Heat rushed up inside him as Christian withdrew his finger then plunged in again. For quivering minutes, he allowed his lover to stretch him. One finger, two and finally scissoring apart.

“Jesus, I can’t wait anymore.” Christian’s lust-roughened voice was a caress of its own.

“Do it.”
Good. That’s two words.

Christian didn’t waste time. He locked his arm around Tucker and filled him in one thrust. Tucker grunted at the invasion. His ears rushed with surging blood. Claire’s body clenched him. Christian’s stuffed.

“Move,” Christian demanded.

Tucker did. Plunging deep into Claire’s primed body. Another orgasm swept her before he could think, but it served to drive his need up another notch.

Christian took him more roughly, his movements jerky and out of sync. He placed his mouth to Tucker’s ear. “So fucking tight. Want to pound into you.”

In invitation, Tucker slammed his hips back. Christian growled in response and found his rhythm. Tucker gathered Claire from the ground and held her tightly to his body as the three of them made a new music in the night.

Christian came first with a choked noise. Claire’s eyes were glassy, her lips parted as Tucker drilled into her sweetness. His heart was a goner, stretched between these two amazing lovers, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else on Earth.

“Come on me, baby,” he whispered a moment before the pressure burst in his core.

She pulsated around him as he unloaded. Spurts of heat shot from him, and all of his words were suddenly unlocked.

“Love you, baby. Don’t ever leave me. Be mine and Chris’s forever.”

Chapter Twelve

The words “you’re not making me eat that” perched on Christian’s lips. Turned out Letty wasn’t sick the previous day but had just required some additional sleep. All good news, except this morning she’d been in rare form and prepared eggs and brains.

Claire had a spoonful inches from her pretty lips. He’d never seen a woman taint herself, but he was about to. “I’m never kissing you again if you put that in your…” she closed her lips around the spoon, “…mouth.”

He twisted his head away and folded his arms over his chest. “I can’t even look at you.”

She giggled and scooped up more. “It’s no different from sausage.”

“It’s fucking different, all right.”

Letty smacked him on the top of the head with the newspaper. “Language, young man.”

“Sorry.”

Across the table from him, Tucker offered him a grin.

“What do you think goes into those cheap chili dogs you get from the Quickie Mart?” Claire asked, finishing off another bite.

“Those are all-beef franks.”

“You keep dreaming, Christian, just like I’ll fantasize that I’m twenty-eight again.” Letty took a big sip of coffee.

They all looked at her. “What would you do if you were twenty-eight again, Letty?” Claire asked.

The woman set her cup down and looked from one face to the next. “Why, I’d do what you’re doing here. I’d find me two good men to make me happy.”

Christian’s chest warmed with affection for Claire’s aunt. Not everyone would approve of their strange situation, but she only saw Claire’s happy face and accepted it.

He stole a look at his plate. The fried brains sat there, lumpy and staring at him. He could almost hear their piggy thoughts. But it couldn’t be helped.

He grabbed his fork and scooped some up. Before he could dwell on his action, he stuffed them into his mouth.

Silence weighted the air around him as three people gaped, awaiting his reaction.

He pinched his eyes shut, chewed rapid-fire and swallowed. A chorus of laughter pealed from the others. He opened his eyes and met Letty’s bright stare. If she’d ever love him, it was now.

“Good man. Now go on. I know you’re dying to drive down to that Quickie Mart.”

He hopped up from the table with an exaggerated enthusiasm that made everyone laugh again. Giving Claire’s hair a tug, he looked into her eyes then Tucker’s. Memories of their encounter last night filled him with renewed heat. But before he could spring an erection, he dropped a kiss to Letty’s soft puff of hair.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

She reached up and patted his closely-shaven cheek. “Wait until you see what I have planned for tomorrow.”

He suppressed a groan and left the house. Outside, the crisp air brought the scents of the ranch to him. Sweet grasses at the end of their season, as well as fresh hay they’d spread in the stalls yesterday.

Long before breakfast, Tucker had freed the chickens and they milled around Christian’s feet like orange-red pets seeking attention. He scattered them and strode on to his truck.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement.

In a split second, he understood what he was seeing and was running full tilt.

Dale near the alpaca pen, ready to cut the wire fencing.

He caught sight of Christian bearing down on him and his eyes widened. He spun and made a break for it, but Christian was faster. He launched himself from several feet away, tackling the lanky guy to the ground.

All the breath whooshed from Dale as Christian’s bigger body slammed into his. With murder pulsing red hot in his veins, Christian grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back.

A strangled noise exited Dale, but Christian ruthlessly jerked his hands higher on his spine.

“What the fuck are you doing on this land? You think you’re going to cut our fence?”

There was just a choking noise that indicated Dale wasn’t able to fill his lungs yet.

After a minute, he managed, “Don’t get Tucker.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” Christian raged in a voice that was deadly with its softness. He applied more pressure to Dale’s arm until the shoulder joint flexed. Another inch and the ball would slip from the socket.

Dale writhed. “My shoulder! Stop!”

“Why should I stop? You’re hurting our horses. Maybe you’ve hurt our alpacas. Why shouldn’t this be a shoulder for a hoof?”

Then again…why not negotiate to get what he, Claire and Tucker really wanted—for the other Langleys to leave them alone?

Keeping pressure on his arm, Christian leaned over him so Dale didn’t miss a word. “You quit trying to get Tucker to sign those papers or else I’ll open my mouth and bellow for him now.”

Dale shook his head. “Can’t.” He panted shallowly, as if the pain were too much. Probably was.

“Can.” He plied his arm. “Say it or I call him and he’ll beat the livin’ hell outta you in addition to this multi-faceted shoulder pain.”

Dale groaned.

“No more contract. And you stay off this land.”

When Dale lay still like a slug, Christian drew an exaggerated breath as if ready to yell. “Owww! Yes, okay. Deal! Just don’t call him. Damn you, I’ve got a lot of money to call in a lawyer and sue you for pain and suffering.”

A film of red settled over Christian’s brain. With one last sharp twist, he shoved Dale’s arm and jumped up. While the man groaned in pain, Christian hauled him to his feet and gave him a push in the direction of his home.

“Get off this ranch before Tucker finds you. Because you’ll be dealing with more than a hurt shoulder.”

Dale took off at a run, cradling his limp arm to his body.

For a jaw-grinding moment, Christian watched him. Fury warred with common sense. He could go in there and get Tucker and let him deal with the mess, or he could keep quiet and spare Dale’s life. Yesterday when Tucker had learned that more than one horse had been injured, and most likely by his relatives, Christian had never seen such an expression on his lover’s face.

Whoever was on the receiving end of that look should be terrified for his life.

Spinning on his boot heels, he strode toward the alpaca fence. Sure enough, Dale had been about to cut the top two wires strung between posts.

With a sigh, Christian pocketed the wire cutters, got into his truck and started it. As he drove down the driveway and toward town, he tugged his hat lower, then lower still. Couldn’t they just have some peace? After last night, he felt as if their souls had finally melded into one unit. Drifting along in that warm sea was all he wanted.

Tucker was at his vibrant best, scarred, but ready to move on. Claire was her sweet, quirky self. And Christian—happier than he’d ever been in his life.

Now he could be possibly sued for his rash action with Dale, but with any luck Dale would stop his father from pushing for Tucker to sign.

Christian flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. Damn, he could almost feel that shoulder joint pop. Fuck, what had he been thinking?

I wasn’t. Just protecting.

Something about that Dale guy disturbed him. On the surface he seemed fairly geeky, though covered in expensive clothing. But lurking in his eyes was something creepy.

Claire felt it—he knew she did.

No, he was being paranoid. Dale wasn’t dangerous—just a dumbass. He played big daddy’s game and was using manipulation and scare tactics to get what he wanted.

Well, either Dale would uphold his end of the bargain or he wouldn’t. Nothing for Christian to do about it. Right now he was on a mission. First he was going to fill his truck bed with enough feed to hold off sixteen hungry alpacas. Then he was going to flush those pig brains out of his system with a couple of chili dogs.

The thunder of a hundred boot heels striking the dusty wooden floor of The Hellion greeted Claire as she entered. Tucker and Christian flanked her on each side, their pine, soap and musk scents giving her strength to face the crowd.

Tonight, she just wasn’t in the mood to socialize. When Christian had suggested they come out for a beer and a twirl, she’d easily given in to his smoldering look, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t feel like dancing…”

He’d grabbed her arm, twisted it so the soft crease faced up, then he buried his mouth in it.

Her knees went weak and her pussy burned with want as he ran his scorching tongue along the sensitive flesh that was far from an erogenous zone. But somehow, he could make it one.

So here she was, booted up, in her tiniest denim skirt and plaid shirt knotted high enough that a sliver of her torso flashed. Her men had been complimenting her and charming her panties wet the whole drive to The Hellion, but her appearance was nothing compared to theirs.

Tucker was drool-worthy in low-slung, worn jeans, a black T-shirt molded to his sculpted chest. He’d spiked his hair with gel tonight, and his lip ring only added to his dangerous appeal. Throw in his black Stetson and she would probably come just by looking at him.

And Christian…he’d amped up his regular boy-next-door look with a pair of dark jeans and a white western shirt. The sleeves were rolled up on his hard forearms, and the dark hairs lying against the white cuff did things to her insides she couldn’t contemplate in public.