On select Saturdays I host guest authors from fellow house Siren Publishing. Today I'm happy to post an excerpt from Tonya Ramagos' Sunset Cowboys series. Yee-haw!
KEEPING TARYN'S COWBOYS by Tonya Ramagos
Sunset Cowboys 3]
Erotic Cowboy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M
Eight years ago, Royce convinced himself sweet, innocent Taryn wasn't ready for the rough, controlling sex he and Clint crave. Now, the blonde spitfire is taking care of business and dialing their number. But the first touch leaves the Shelton brothers wondering if they're ready for her.
“I like this look on you.” Sheer male appreciation sounded in Clint’s husky tone. “Shows how sexy you really are beneath the ranch clothes. Makes me wonder how much sexier you are inside these jeans, too. Are you hiding a treat for us there, too?”
Royce chose that moment to finally break the kiss, pulling back slowly to stare down at her through heavy-lidded eyes. Handsome didn’t begin to describe the man with his brown curls teasing his brows, the perpetual five o’clock shadow he maintained to hide the scar running along the curve of his jaw. The intensity and desire in his expression only enhanced his chiseled features, rendering her no hope of recapturing her breath after the mind-consuming kiss.
“Why don’t you find out?” She didn’t know where she found the wherewithal to issue the challenge but figured she couldn’t ask for a better response than the spark of pure male pride in Royce’s eyes. That is until his hand cupping her breast started to glide down her abdomen.
“I believe I’ll do just that.” His splayed hand covered her slender frame, the heat of his touch burning through the silk of her camisole to send her body reeling in its need for skin-to-skin attention. He released her head, tracing her lobe with the tip of one finger before skimming it down the side of her neck, following the path Clint’s kisses left tingling.
Finally free to move her head, she turned to find Clint’s gaze boring down on her, a cocky smile toying with the corners of his glistening lips. He watched her, unspeaking as he slowly lowered his thigh from between her legs. The absence of pressure to her aching pussy had her hips bucking to chase after it, to draw it back. The cocky smile bloomed to a devilish grin, a gruff laugh accompanying it as his hand closed around her hip, stilling her thrusts.
“Patience, darlin’,” he drawled.
She felt the knot of her shirt work free, shivered as a hand delved beneath the camisole, knuckles tickling up her front. The hand on the downward slide to the waistband of her jeans continued, large fingers yanking the button loose, tugging down the zipper.
“As you can see, Royce is about to give you something so much better to grind against.”
Taryn couldn’t see it, but she could damn sure feel it. The rough tips of Royce’s fingers danced along the elastic band of her panties. The length of those fingers pushed beneath the material and buried in her intimate curls.
Hands worked at her sides, Royce’s free hand and Clint’s, she realized with the part of her mind scrambling to keep track. Together, the men tugged her jeans down her hips, affording Royce with the ease he needed to push the final fraction home between her legs.
One impossibly long, deliciously coarse finger slipped between her sodden folds. Taryn couldn’t say for sure who moaned the loudest, herself or Royce as his hand stilled and her head fell back to rest on his shoulder.
“Christ, she’s wet.” Royce’s words came on a growl that rumbled from low in his throat and sent a sliver of excited apprehension racing down Taryn’s spine. She never heard him sound so animalistic, so primal. “It’s like sinking my finger into a jar of molasses, thick and warm. She’s drenching my fingers already, and I haven’t even gotten inside her yet.”
Taryn opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed, peered at Clint through the narrow slits. She didn’t lift her head from Royce’s shoulder. She couldn’t find the strength. Her hands found purchase on their bodies, one fisting Clint’s shirt on his broad shoulder, the other turning to grip the back of Royce’s thigh. She wanted to fist more, to grip more. She wanted to touch them, taste them as they did her.
Clint’s skimming hand pushed her camisole up, baring her breasts. His head dipped, gaze remaining locked with hers beneath his lashes as he licked one taut nipple into his mouth and sent her body bucking once more. He didn’t tease, didn’t caress. He bit, sucked, plucked with his lips, and created a zing of pleasurable pain that bolted straight from her nipple to her pulsing clit.
“Ah, God, Clint!” Taryn’s head lolled on Royce’s shoulder, her breast thrusting into Clint’s mouth even as her hips gyrated in search for more of Royce’s touch. “Royce.” She hissed his name through her teeth as Clint delivered a sharper bite to her tortured nipple.
“Like that, baby?” Royce’s hand angled between her legs. His finger drove into her flaming channel, wiggled, explored, but he kept the base of his palm away from her clit. “Tell us, Taryn. Do you like it rough? Do you like the way your body burns, convulses uncontrollably, clouds the line between pain and pleasure?”
“Yes.” She loved it! She wanted more, wanted everything they would do to her and then some. Pressure built in her womb. Her clit pulsed. Her inner muscles gripped at Royce’s questing finger. The electric burn Clint started at her breasts blazed out of control, igniting a desire in her so carnal and naughty she couldn’t define it, let alone prevent it from eliciting the plea from her lips. “Please.”
“That’s it, darlin’,” Clint said around her nipple. “Beg for us. Beg Royce to fuck that pussy, for me to pleasure these breasts. You taste so delicious, Taryn, like a peach that’s been waiting for me out in the sun.”
She probably would have. Jesus knew she teetered on the verge of crying for them to do everything Clint asked of her. The orgasm built inside her, clawed through her channel like a tortured animal seeing freedom. Her breasts tingled, nipples throbbing in a fantastical pain she never before experienced. Then Royce’s hand flattened on her pussy, another finger joining the first as the heel of his palm pressed to her clit.
“Yes,” she said again, the breath leaving her as tears of sheer emotional overload filled her vision. She caught sight of Clint as he gazed up at her, mouth locked around one breast. Something about the look in his eyes and the position of Royce’s neck against her head told her the brothers exchanged a wordless communication in that instant she couldn’t define.
Then she stopped trying as the release took control. She fell apart between them, bucking and writhing, panting and moaning, unable to stop any of it, too overtaken by the force of the orgasm to try.