Tricking Her Cowboy Doms [Pleasure, Texas 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  “Olives.” She could’ve poked a stick through her eye. How stupid was she anyway? There were at least six jumbo-sized jars of olives and she’d looked straight at them. Worse, she’d hidden her phone behind one of the jars.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Are you serious? Olives? I would’ve sworn we had enough to last the rest of the month.” His arm crossed in front of her to open the door. “Let’s check again.”

  Shit. What could she do? She was stuck with her ridiculous lie. Giving him a timid smile, she led the way back into the supply room. One step more and she was face to face with the jars of olives. She gave an embarrassed giggle. “I guess I need glasses.” She waved her hands in front of the row of jars like a deranged model. “Look? Olives.”

  “Yeah. Good thing we provide health insurance for our employees. Although it doesn’t kick in until you’ve worked here for at least a month. But I’ll tell you what. If you really need glasses, then go ahead and get them. I’ll cover the cost.”

  Paul was one of the nicest guys she’d ever met. Which made lying to him even worse.

  “I was just kidding. My eyes are fine. I guess I’m a little scatterbrained tonight.”

  “Is everything okay? Anything I can help you with?”

  She could feel him searching her, his intense look locked on her. Suddenly, she found the floor very interesting. “Everything’s great. No problems at all.”

  I wish.

  “Okay. Well, then let me get a jar.”

  “No. I’ve got it.” She jumped to life, reaching for the third jar before he could get the first one, remove it, and see her phone. It was heavy, but she did her best not to show it.

  He frowned at her, obviously thrown. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Absolutely.” She made a funny face. “I just need to pay more attention to what I’m doing. And I will. I promise.” Again, she swept her arm out, motioning for him to leave the room first. “After you, Master Paul.”

  Calling anyone master felt weird, but all the employees addressed both Paul and his brother Destin with the respectful title. Other men might be called master once they’d achieved Dom status in the club, but even then, usually only by their submissive.

  He gave her another searching look, then heeled around and headed into the hall. She hefted the jar with both arms, then smiled, and followed him back to the main room.

  That was too close.

  By the time they’d made it back to where most of the members were dancing, drinking, and having sexual fun, she was more than ready to plunk the large jar onto the bar. Wilson, the bartender, finished with a customer, then came her way.

  “Olives? We’ve got more than enough up here already.”

  “No way. A bar can never have too many olives.” Pushing the jar toward him, she spun on her heel and hurried to one of her tables before he could say anything more.

  “How are you guys doing?” The five men were “watchers,” people who enjoyed coming to the club to see what everyone else did. They typically tipped less than members who participated in the activities, but they also wouldn’t ask her to play. As far as she was concerned, those were her favorite kind of customer.

  Their table was dead center giving them a good view of the enormous bar that ran the width of the room. Two hallways ran down either side of the bar while a large hardwood dance floor attracted members to gyrate to the heavy beat of the piped-in music. Sweaty, hungry couples moved together to the sensual sound of music piped overhead, while monitored cameras, strategically placed, kept everyone safe. The club was elegant, especially for a small Texas town, with lush carpet and polished mahogany chairs and tables. Comfortable booths lined the other walls. It reeked of class all the way.

  “You ready to take our orders, hon?”

  “You bet.” She’d gotten lost in her thoughts, but she didn’t need to think much as she scribbled down their orders. Once the last man had asked for his drink, she nodded, then spun around to head back to the bar.

  All she had to do was finish her shift, then get the hell out of there. Until tomorrow. Although she was sure she’d taken enough photos, she’d keep delaying Wilburt, hoping against hope that she’d find a way out of their predicament before he demanded them once and for all. Since he wanted the best, most provocative shots, she kept telling him she needed more time to get those great pictures. In the meantime, she downloaded them to her laptop, then worked on them, covering up the people’s private parts and faces. He’d go crazy mad once he saw them, but by then, she prayed it wouldn’t matter.

  He kept hounding her, day after day, and she kept putting him off, promising him more than she’d ever deliver.

  Oh, my.

  She slowed down, easing around a couple who were too busy kissing and fondling each other to notice her, then came to a stop.

  There they are.

  Owen and Ryce were as sexy as always as they stood talking to Paul. They wore their usual perfect-for-their bodies jeans with roughhewn boots and simple long-sleeved shirts with the cuffs rolled up. According to the club’s rules, they both held their hats in their hands. Their hair was mussed as though they’d just walked in from the brisk October wind. She figured they must’ve forgotten to leave their hats in the front foyer with Lindsey, the receptionist.

  If a girl could order exactly what she wanted in two men, they’d fit her order perfectly. Judging by the one time she’d stood close enough to measure, she’d guessed them to be at least a couple of inches over six feet. She was tall for a woman, around five nine, but they made her feel small, even dainty.

  No matter what kind of clothes they wore, she’d bet she’d still be able to see their muscles. Funny how their arms could look so strong, so muscled, and their round tushes seem soft enough to bite. Unlike a lot of men who tried to look like cowboys, they were the real deal. They worked for Paul and Destin, content to remain ranch hands, even though rumors said they could easily afford their own spread. She wondered. Did that mean they lacked ambition? Or were they men who were so comfortable with their lives and in their skins that they didn’t need to own a ranch? From what she’d seen and heard so far, they were far from unambitious or lazy. And most of all, she’d heard they could be trusted.

  Trust. She’d love to trust them with her secret. If anyone could help, she had a feeling they were the men who could. But even though she ached to put her faith in them, she couldn’t take the risk.

  If only I could’ve met them some other place and time. And off the job.

  They were so physically alike. Tall, gorgeous specimens of men any woman in her right mind would love to have in her bed. And yet, once she’d gotten to know them, she’d realized they were their own people. Ryce was funny as hell, always trying to make her laugh. He was quick on his feet and never seemed to get thrown for a loop no matter what anyone said. It was as though a bomb could go off at his feet and he’d simply ask if anyone needed ear plugs.

  One night, soon after they’d met, she’d had to stay and help close the club. Ryce had helped her, showing her what to do. Although closing up shouldn’t have taken any longer than an hour, it had taken them almost two hours. She’d been so busy laughing at Ryce’s jokes and his impersonations of several of the club members and employees. Somehow he was able to bridge the gap between humor and sexiness, and combine them into one amazing package. Even with all the laughing, they’d come close to kissing, the sexual element between them growing stronger and stronger. At last, once they’d finally finished doing everything they’d needed to do, she’d said her good-byes and left. If she’d have stayed a minute longer, she would’ve jumped on top of the bar and begged him to take her.

  Owen was the flip side of his brother. He was friendly enough, but he let his younger brother take the attention he craved, often becoming the target of his brother’s jokes. He acted like it bothered him, but he’d told her once in confidence that he really didn’t mind.

  Owen was the solid one of the two. If there
was a problem, he’d step back and think through the solution, step by logical step. Ryce, on the other hand, would jump in with both feet, then figure out where to go from there.

  She hadn’t had time alone with Owen yet. Instead, they’d shared brief conversations where they’d talked about their lives. She’d done most of the asking. To give him too much information could’ve been dangerous. But every time she talked to him, she got a firmer grasp on the type of man he was, confident, easy in his own skin, and ready to help wherever he could. He reminded her of the perfect hero type she’d loved in her favorite romantic movies.

  She liked the Killian brothers. A lot. But on top of that, she was more sexually attracted to them than she’d ever been to anyone in her life. Both at the same time.

  Her body instinctively reacted to them, something that had never happened to her. They were amazing, sexy men, but she’d seen her fair share of hot men. No, it was something else, something that made them stand out from the rest. Something that made her think that maybe, just maybe, she’d met two men who could make her life as exciting, yet as safe, as she’d always dreamed it could be.

  Her dreams. That had to be it. Obviously, she’d done far too much fantasizing about finding two men who would dominate her and bend her to their wishes. She would’ve liked to have blamed working at the club for her dreams of her own personal Doms, but she’d fantasized about dominating men for several years. Well before she’d even heard the word Dom. But they were only dreams, and letting her fantasies bleed into her real life was not only futile, but possibly dangerous with a secret to keep.

  Although the Killian brothers’ main jobs were as ranch hands, they’d started learning how to become Doms at the club. She’d seen them do one scene with a chubby woman who frequented the club almost every Saturday night. What they’d done to and for the woman had left her needing to use her vibrator more than once later that night. They hadn’t disrobed, instead giving the woman pleasure in other ways, but she’d seen the bulges in their jeans and could guess they were larger than most men.

  She couldn’t help but imagine and dream what it would be like to have them as her Doms. If she let the fantasies come alive, would they be as amazing as her dreams? Or would reality break the dreams apart?

  Belinda, a waitress who was known for making lecherous moves on some of the Doms, and for her plans to become a permanent sub to wealthy men, sashayed her way over to Ryce. The sudden need to run over and yank Belinda away had her taking a step forward before she realized what she was about to do. Instead, she altered her course and headed back to the bar to put in her drink orders. All while keeping her attention on Belinda.

  Keep your hands off them, bitch.

  “Are you okay, Jewel?”

  Had she spoken out loud? “Sure. I need these drinks for table five.” She handed him the order slip. Once she got better at the job, she’d try taking orders without writing them down.

  Once I get better at the job? But that’s never going to happen.

  A sadness struck her, digging into her until she pushed it away.

  Wilson had worked at the club a long time and rarely joined in on the sexual play. He was all business and focused on his job behind the counter. “Are you sure about that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He inclined his head toward the group. “You looked like you were about to go kamikaze on Belinda.”

  “Who, me? Why would I do that?” Shit. First Paul and now Wilson was outing her. She had to be more careful.

  Trust no one. Not even the Killian men.

  “Why? Because it’s obvious you have a thing for them. The only question is why you haven’t told them.” He went to work, quickly filling her drink orders.

  “A thing? For Ryce and Owen?” She sounded like an airhead. “Of course not. We’re just friends. Acquaintances, really.” She kept her head bowed, finding it harder to look at either Wilson or the others.

  “They could be more, you know. If you wanted them to be.”

  That caught her attention. “But they’re Doms and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not into playing around.” She was one of the few waitstaff, including the male waitstaff, who wasn’t.

  “Yeah, I know and we all respect your decision even if we don’t really get it. I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but I think you’d enjoy getting it on with the Killian boys. You look hungry enough to eat them every time you look their way.”

  Was she that obvious? “I’m just a waitress and nothing more.”

  “Okay, I get it. You want me to back off. But here’s the thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I guess you haven’t noticed it much, but I sure as hell have.” He set the drinks down on the tray in front of her.

  “You sure as hell have noticed what?” Why had her mouth suddenly gone dry?

  Wilson shrugged. “I could be wrong, but if I looked at a woman the way they looked at you, I’d be ready to fuck her and make her mine.”

  She’d picked up the tray a second before he’d answered, then dropped it hard, rattling the drinks loud enough for a few people standing nearby to notice. “Damn, Wilson, warn a girl.” She risked a glance their way. “You’re wrong, of course, and even if you weren’t…”

  “Even if I weren’t, then what?” Wilson leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “Cut the shit, Jewel. You know you want them more than a dog wants a steak. What I’m telling you is this. All you have to do is crook your finger and they’ll come running.” He leaned back, then gave her a nod. “Hey, I’ve been tending bar here a long time and I know what I know. You, girl, are hot as hell for them and they’d be happy to get burned.”

  She started to deny it, but when Belinda put her arm against Ryce and brushed her big boob along his arm, she couldn’t think straight. Pain hit her when Ryce bent over, whispered in Belinda’s ear, and made her laugh.

  “Yep. You’ve got it bad, all right.” Wilson laughed, then gave her a wink and went off to refill a customer’s drink.

  He was right. She’d thought it before, but had sloughed off the idea, not wanting it to be true. But it was. Almost from the first moment Paul had introduced them a week earlier, she’d wanted both of them. Too bad she couldn’t act on her feelings, not when she was busy tricking everyone into trusting her.

  If only she could take Belinda’s place. But she couldn’t. Not without risking her sister’s future.

  Damn.

  Chapter Two

  “Come on, Paul. Are you sure your friend isn’t pulling a prank? Maybe he just got it all wrong?” Owen inched away from Belinda and crossed his arms, hoping to keep her from skimming her palm along his arm the way she was doing to Ryce.

  “He’s positive,” answered Paul.

  “But how? Does he work for that scumbag mag?”

  He scowled at Ryce, trying to tell him not to lead Belinda on. Ryce was used to flirting with the waitresses, but sometimes he’d take it too far. His brother had a quick wit everyone enjoyed and a winning smile the ladies found irresistible. How many times had he warned Ryce about Belinda? It was obvious she was playing for more than just a good time. She’d tried getting her hooks into other Doms, including Paul and his brother Destin, and now she was setting her sights on them.

  “Of course not. It sounds like something out of a cheesy movie, but it’s one of those “friend of a friend” kind of thing. It’s coming from someone who knows the e-zine industry. My friend trusts him. Nothing’s been published yet, but if this guy says it’s going to happen, then it’s going to happen.”

  Owen cleared his throat and glowered as Ryce bent to whisper in Belinda’s ear. Ryce shrugged off his warning as he so often did. “So nothing’s come out online yet? Not even one picture?”

  “Not yet. Not only are there rumors that Exposed’s asshole of an owner has a sex tape of that musician, Rick Torrent, and some unlucky girl doing drugs and drinking, but that he’s got an insider here at the club who’s willing to send him photos of memb
ers in various sex acts. Seems this would-be journalist is writing an exposé on us.”

  “Okay, but what’s the big deal? Why not let them give the club some free advertising?”

  Ryce’s mind was obviously somewhere else. Why else would he ask such a stupid question?

  “You know most BDSM clubs don’t want or need advertising. I sure as hell don’t want it with the majority of our members being local. We need to figure out who’s doing this and shut them down before they get all the photos they want.”

  “Photos?” Belinda, who hadn’t been paying any attention to anything other than Ryce, chimed in. “I’ll pose for any photos you want. Naked or not.”

  “No, thanks, Belinda.” Paul pulled her off Ryce, then gave her a friendly push away from them. “Can you give us some time? We need to discuss business.”

  Belinda tossed her hair back and batted her eyelashes. “So how about it, guys? Want me as your sub tonight? You know I’ll give you more pleasure than anyone else ever could.”

  Owen had once found Belinda interesting and sexy, but after Jewel had come to the club, he couldn’t see Belinda as anything but a desperate woman trying to latch onto any available and well-to-do man who’d have her. “No thanks.”

  “Go on, Belinda. Don’t you have tables that need your attention?”

  She went straight into a pout. “I guess.” The pout didn’t last long as she tried to renew her hold on Ryce’s arm, replacing it with a sultry expression. “Just call me anytime you want my sweet, hot pussy. Here or at my home, okay? I don’t need to be at the club. We can do it anywhere you want.”

  “Thanks.” Ryce gave her a peck on the cheek, an obvious dismissal. “But we’re good. You go on and find someone else to play with.”

  Anger flashed in her cold eyes a second before she whirled around and headed for the closest table. If she swung her hips any harder, she’d fall sideways.