Rough, Raw, and Ready (Rough Riders #5)(7)

Liquid heat burst inside her.

She loved every second of making this man lose control. Her hand slid between her legs. She stroked her swollen clit as her ass muscles milked his cock and it wasn’t long before she was coming again. Trevor knew when her orgasm hit. When she cried out so did he. One last hoarse shout, and he quit moving.

She collapsed to the mattress with a sigh.

He layered his damp chest over her back and kissed the slope of her shoulder.

“I didn’t know being my cleaning slave turned you on so much.”


Trevor nipped her ear. “You turn me on. In every way imaginable.”


Time spent outside in the cold air always made her husband extra frisky. But it’d been different today. A sharper edge to his lust. A more desperate need. “Something definitely got into you today.”


“Something?” He rolled his hips and his semi-soft dick twitched inside her. “Who’s in who right now?”


“Get off me, you brute.” She sucked in a quick breath, even when he eased out with painstaking care. “I think you broke the headboard.”


“Was worth it. You oughta be talkin’. One of them shrieks rattled the damn light fixtures. If Edgard was sleepin’, he wasn’t after that.”


Damn. She’d completely forgotten about their houseguest. Chassie wondered if Trevor had forgotten too.

Or was that the reason for his overly amorous behavior? To prove to his buddy that marriage hadn’t tamed him? He was still a wild man between the sheets?

A ripple of anxiety surfaced again and it wasn’t as easy for her to shrug off this time.

After Trevor returned from the bathroom he flipped her on her back. “Now I’m ready to taste that sweet spot.”


Definitely in a mood.

Chapter Three


Thump thump thump.

Edgard sprawled on the bed in the guestroom next to Trevor and Chassie’s bedroom, staring at the ceiling fan, listening to them having sex.

For the second time.

Which was pure torture.

No doubt in Edgard’s mind that Trevor was f*cking his hot little wife just to prove a point: Trevor didn’t want him. Trevor didn’t need him. Trevor knew full well that Edgard heard every squeak of the bedsprings, every deep male groan, every feminine plea, every collective gasp and pleasured scream through the paper-thin walls. Every telltale bang of the headboard.

Thump thump thump.

How f*cked up would it be if Edgard unzipped his jeans and started whacking off to the sounds of their passion?

Seriously f*cked up. Pathetically f*cked up. Perverted.

“What you do with other men is perverted and wrong. You disgust me. You disgust all of us. You should be ashamed.”


Yeah. Great timing for that ugly memory to pop up.

With the life altering events he’d suffered recently, Edgard wondered if he’d ever be happy again. Through his haze of melancholy his mother’s lilting voice reminded him,

“You find happiness where you least expect it. When in doubt, go back to the beginning.”


Thump thump thump.

Was it sheer idiocy that Edgard considered Trevor a beginning? When Edgard was the one who’d ended things between them? Yet here he was, wishing for things he couldn’t have. Creating more miserable memories to drown in.

Thump thump thump.

Then silence. No squeaking. No groaning.

Was Trevor indulging in his softer side with his wife? Kissing her sweetly and cuddling her to that amazingly hard, sweat-covered body? Giving Chassie the intimate connection in the aftermath of loving that Edgard used to revel in? That rare affection he’d been so desperate to have?

Feminine giggles followed by male laughter echoed against the wall and put an ache in Edgard’s soul.

Enough.

Edgard pushed to his feet, adjusted his throbbing cock and headed downstairs. The burning need to tuck tail and run was riding him hard as he slipped outside, but once again he was reminded he had nowhere else to go.

Later, when they’d sat down to supper, Chassie said, “So, Edgard, you feelin’ up to a little honky-tonkin’ tonight? There’s a great band playin’ at the Rusty Spur.”


Startled, Edgard peered up from his bowl of stew. “Is there a special occasion for going out dancing?”


“No. Why would you ask that?”


Edgard shrugged. “Because if I remember correctly, Trevor wasn’t all that crazy about dancing.”


“He isn’t.” Chassie grinned at him. “But he convinced me he loved two-steppin’ when we were dating. So I figure him tryin’ to skip out on it now that we’re married is cheatin’ at best, false advertising at worst.”


Trevor snorted.

“Besides, I refuse to let us turn into one of those married couples who are old before their time. Don’t do anything fun, don’t try anything new, just work or become homebodies watchin’ the boob tube as entertainment.”


“Right. You just wanna flaunt your hot little ass at all those horny ranch hands who didn’t pay attention to you when you were single,” Trevor said dryly.

“Can you blame me? It’s such sweet revenge to see them trippin’ over their boots and tongues when they see me shakin’ my groove thang.” Chassie snagged a dinner roll.