Shoulda Been a Cowboy (Rough Riders #7)(48)

“Apology accepted.”


His right eyebrow winged up. “I’m forgiven that fast?”


“No point in holding a grudge. You were only looking out for Cam’s best interest and I can’t fault you for that.”


“Hmm. Gorgeous, quiet and forgiving. Will you marry me?”


She laughed. “Let’s stick to being friends.”


“Oh woman, I am so gonna try to change your mind. Let’s have a toast to celebrate our new friendship.” He leapt to his feet. “Have any idea where Cam keeps the tequila?”


“No. But I hope his liquor cabinet is better stocked than his refrigerator.”


“You and me are gonna get along just fine.”


Cam was surprised to see Domini’s car parked in the drive. He was even more surprised to enter the kitchen and see Brock and Domini laughing over a row of empty shot glasses.


A possessive roar filled his head.


“Cam! My man. I was just telling Domini about the time—”


“I kicked your butt for drinkin’ all my tequila?”


“No, about the time we got into that bar fight in—”


“I’m sure Domini ain’t interested in hearing our old war stories, Brock.”


“Yes I am.”


Damn she looked good. Color on her cheeks. A sparkle in her eyes. Amusement tilting the corners of her mouth.


He forced a smile. “Looks like I have some catching up to do. Pass me that bottle, will ya?”


“Sure thing.” Brock poured three fingers of tequila and slid it across the bar.


“Why don’t you tell me one of your wild stories?” Domini asked him.


“I’ll pass because I don’t lie nearly as smoothly as Brock does.”


“That’s true,” Brock said. “We called him George behind his back because of that ‘I cannot tell a lie’ bullshit.”


Cam confided, “And we called him Pinocchio.”


“Really? I’m stunned. All your stories have been an outrageous…lie?” she said with mock shock.


“Not all. Once I wrassled a bear with my bare hands. I have pictures.” Brock peeped at her with those big, dark puppy dog eyes that always got him laid. “Wanna see them?”


“I assume you’re bare naked on the bear skin rug after you killed the beast with your bare hands?” Domini mused.


“Yep, but unlike the pictures of those white boys who ain’t smart enough to hunt bears the right color, like polar bears, my brown ass blends perfectly with the grizzly I slayed.” Brock leaned closer. “Is this getting me anywhere with you, hot stuff?”


Domini and Brock continued to flirt like Cam wasn’t in the room. This playful side of Domini fascinated him. He’d seen her various sides, sweet and fiery and obedient and occasionally pushy, but never shamelessly charming. Or was it just shameless?



“You hands are on me, not him.” Cam circled her wrists and placed her hands behind her; one on Cam’s right thigh, one high on the left. “I’ll touch you while you’re sucking him.”


The position would’ve been awkward if not for the arch in her spine which caused her nipples to brush the bristly hair on Brock’s legs and tingle deliciously in response. She smiled. Cam knew how much she loved nipple play. Even now he was seeing to her sexual needs.


“Open,” Brock directed.


She closed her eyes, dropped her jaw in anticipation of all that smooth, hot, hard flesh pushing past her lips and teeth, over her tongue until it filled her mouth completely. Brock swirled the cockhead over her lips and plunged in to the root.


Domini started to gag.


Cam’s voice drifted to her. “Relax. Breathe.”


Brock wasn’t expecting a slow tease. He pumped in and out in a smooth rhythm that Domini knew would get him off quickly.


Cam twined his hands in her hair, holding it out of her face. “You have no idea how f*cking hot it is to see his dick in your mouth.”


A slight hum from her had Brock groaning, “Jesus. Do that again.”


She did.


Domini looked up at Brock. A little thrill shot through her, seeing him lost in pleasure. She understood Cam was giving this intimate moment to Brock as much as she was.


Was it easier for Cam to show his gratitude for his friendship when he was proving to Brock that Cam McKay was still one hundred percent dominant male?


“More, come on, take it all,” Brock urged, forcing her to refocus.


As she created tight suction on every withdrawal, she slackened her throat muscles when Brock plunged back in to the root. His hardness filled her mouth over and over, sending her into hazy subspace where she existed on a whole different plane.


“You’re beautiful,” Cam whispered. “So damn beautiful I can’t think for wanting you. Two men so f*cking hot for you that we’re both gonna f*ck you at once. Me in that tight *. Brock in your tight ass. You’re getting wet thinking about it, aren’t you?”


She moaned. The sensations were devastating. The constant wet suction of Brock’s slippery cock f*cking her mouth. The rasp of her nipples against Brock’s legs. Cam’s hand fisted in her hair. The ache in her arms. The feel of Cam’s rough skin as she dug her nails into his upper thighs. Three distinctively different breathing patterns distorted the air. Three different scents filled her lungs.