Jenna Stewart
What's better than one hot man? Two!
What's better than one hot man? Two!
In 1875, Anya O'Ryan Stockwell runs from her husband of two years in an effort to escape his abuse. Two years later, her illusion of safety is shattered when Brandon Monroe enters her boarding house. Even the sheriff, Lowry MacLaughlin, doesn't understand the fear Bran inspires because he doesn't know Anna's history—or that she's married. If Jeremiah Stockwell knows her whereabouts, she'll have to run again.
Bran knows immediately that Anna Runyon is the woman he's been paid to find. Now, however, desire keeps him from fulfilling his contract. When Stockwell is killed on the way to claim his wife, Anna asks both Bran and Lowry to help her experience love for one night. By dawn they all know that one night isn't enough to answer her fantasies. Or her happiness. Only the determination of both men—and their guns—will do that.
Anna remained in the room during Len Wilson’s examination. He was a quiet man, based on what Larissa observed—young, and handsome as sin. In fact, extraordinary good looks is what she had noticed in many of the men of Men-Edge during her short time in town. Most of them could have been models for any of the top agencies in New York, had they chosen to leave their small-town life. She had seen the doctor around only a few times, and most of the time he had been with animals.
“Doctor,” she said, starting a conversation to keep her mind off the pain shooting through her body with each pressing probe of his fingertips around the wound, “I’m embarrassed.”
“Why is that?” he responded with a smile. “Anna is right here at the foot of the bed.”
Her cheeks heated with a blush. “I didn’t mean you were embarrassing me. I meant that in the time I’ve been living in town I always thought you were a veterinarian.”
“I am.”
“What?” she said a little more weakly than she intended.
“It’s all right, Linda,” Anna added. “Humans are animals, too.”
“And,” the doctor said, finally sitting back and stripping off his rubber gloves, “a gunshot wound is not that different between a person and, say, a wolf. In your case, Bran got out the bullet without causing much additional tissue damage. You could have used a couple of stitches, but that’s the only difference I would have made had I been here. You were in good hands.”
He glanced at Anna before redressing the wound with clean gauze and tape. “I’ll check back tomorrow unless she starts to run a fever or you notice bleeding or extreme redness around the area. And she’ll need an antibiotic.”
“I’m right here, Doctor,” Larissa reminded him gently.
He smiled, and she was struck again with his boyish looks and muscular build. All the better to charm his four-legged patients. And their mistresses. Just as he had charmed her—until he started talking to Anna as though she wasn’t there.
“Sorry. Occupational habit. Most of my patients don’t care a whit what I say about them. You’re healing nicely, Ms. Monetti, though you will have a scar.”
For a brief moment, her heart sank. Then she remembered that those days of worrying about her looks—of every mark, every wrinkle, every morsel of food she ate—were behind her. “No problem. It’s not as though I’m a swimsuit model.”
“Good. Very sensible attitude.” He pressed down the last piece of adhesive tape and gently lifted the waistband of the sweatpants over the wound and to her waist.
“Be sure to tie these well,” he said, frowning. “They seem awfully big on you.” He turned a questioning look on Anna, who shrugged.
“One of those he brought home from Seattle left them. These were the best fit I could find that would also be loose around the injury.”
The doctor nodded. “There’ve been quite a few female visitors over the years. I don’t know how you keep track.”
“Oh, I don’t. As it turned out, we’re lucky he didn’t bring someone home this weekend.”
“If you two are quite finished discussing my love life,” a dry voice said from the doorway, “I’d like to hear how the patient is doing.”
Larissa rolled onto her back, confirming that Bran had just entered the room. Right behind him, a smiling Rob focused on her. She smiled back, letting him know that she was feeling better.
“Hello, Bran.” The doctor stood up from the chair beside the bed where he’d been sitting. “I wasn’t prying.” He shot a quick look at Anna. “Well, not exactly. It’s just that many of us in Men-Edge are impressed with the number of lovely ladies you introduce to our fair little town.”
“Glad that I can provide entertainment. Now, how’s she doing?” Bran jerked his head her way, as though she hadn’t hearing of her own.
“She is doing well,” Larissa said. “She is tired of being ignored.” She said the last with an exaggerated sigh so they wouldn’t think she was mad, just a little ticked, as she really was. With a moment’s wistfulness, she remembered a time when no one in a room would have forgotten her presence, or ignored her.
Rob came up to the bedside. “It’s impossible for me to believe that anyone could ignore you.”
“Thank you, Rob!” His praise was the first thing that had made her feel pretty in the longest time. It brought tears to her eyes, which she quickly blinked away.
“And this is…?” Doctor Wilson’s voice held interest as well as surprise.
“Rob Hunter,” Rob said, holding out his hand to the veterinarian.
“A guest for a few days,” Bran added.
“Or longer,” Rob added, grinning.
Len held out his hand. “Welcome to Men-Edge.”
“Thanks. So far it’s been pretty exciting.”
The doctor turned his head to Bran and back again. “I can only imagine.” He snapped his leather case shut. “To answer everyone’s question, Ms. Monetti is healing well. I’ll leave a prescription for her at the drugstore, which I’m sure Jim will fill and have delivered. As long as infection doesn’t rear its ugly head, she’ll be right as rain in about a week.” He focused on her. "My advice is that you do whatever you feel able to do. Get up if you can. The longer you stay in bed, the stiffer you’ll get.” He included Bran in his gaze. “Call if you need me for anything. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Monetti, though I would have preferred it be under different circumstances.”
“I’ll bet,” Bran murmured.
“This won’t hurt,” Bran said.
Hurt! Larissa wasn’t concerned with being hurt. he wanted relief from the relentless prickling sensations attacking her pussy, her ass, her thighs. Blood surged through her veins and pulsed in her wrists. Her face heated.
Touch me, damn it! Fuck me!
Bran pressed something against her ass, and for a moment she thought he used his finger. She breathed a sigh of relief that finally he was going to do something to make that irritating feeling go away. But no. Whatever it was, it slid in smoothly, doing nothing to provide friction that would alleviate her need. She licked her lips. Should she lift her butt? Should she press down? What would end the hunger?
“Just a little more. You’re doing well.” The pressure increased slightly and the thing—whatever it was—filled her ass. She clenched her muscles around it involuntarily, and then tried to rub it against the sheets, but nothing helped.
“That won’t do any good, though I like that you’re holding it in. It’ll feel great in a few minutes.”
Right. Sure. She wanted to beg, but remembered his warning, and her agreement. Her pussy tingled and her ass ached for whatever filled it to move, but she kept quiet. She was stronger than anything Bran tempted her with. She only hoped he would take care of her as he promised.
His fingertip grazed her skin from neck to belly button. She shivered with his touch, but she needed so much more. Squirming, she attempted to position herself under his hand so he would put pressure where she needed it most.
“All in good time,” he murmured. Then he did rub his fingers across her mound, ever so gently. Without pubic hair, she felt every delicious inch of his finger pads. She’d never imagined being without hair would open her up to so many more sensations.
He brushed her labia. She sucked in a harsh breath and jerked her hips off the bed when he teased her clit.
“Your aroma is tantalizing. I could smell you across the room, but this close it’s overwhelming.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
Oh my God! She no sooner had the words out but he slapped her pussy lips. Though the slap was sharp, it didn’t hurt. He had used it for effect, not punishment. Yet it punished anyway, setting off a storm of pins pricking her labia, pussy, clit. She would die soon if he didn’t do something to bring her off.
“Don’t talk,” he commanded.
She wriggled, pressing the thing that plugged her ass closer in but gaining no satisfaction. If anything, her need grew.
“You want someone to fuck you about now, don’t you?”
“Yes. Please.” She was hot, so damn hot.
His fingertips skimmed her abdomen, light as feathers. But he used his other hand to dip into her pussy. Finally! He tickled the inside of her entrance. She raised her hips to meet him, twisting to force his fingers where she needed him so badly.
Bran didn’t go deep. He stroked the lining of her vagina just inside the entrance.
“Stop moving,” he said.
“I can’t just lie here.”
The slap came almost as expected. Her pussy quivered, aching for some kind of friction to rid her of the sensations driving her crazy.
“Do it again,” she said on a moan, pulling against the bindings on her wrists.
He did, and she flew into a million pieces. Bran kept stroking her pussy, sending her farther into the stars, harder. She could have died. She might have screamed and never known. Mouth open, she gasped for air, and still Bran didn’t turn her lose. Great spasms shook her body, alternately grasping his finger and the thing that filled her ass. She couldn’t take much more.
Suddenly, Bran withdrew his finger, but she continued to ride the orgasm. Then his finger was on her mouth, painting her lips, dipping inside to tease her taste buds. Larissa sucked his finger, lapping it with her tongue.
A buzzing sound alerted her to the fact that he wasn’t finished with her. While she sucked her juices off his finger, he applied a vibrating device to her clit. She flew off again, surrounded by blackness with her closed eyes and blindfold, but speeding toward the white light of an all-encompassing orgasm. Her pussy contracted in spasm after spasm. Larissa threw back her head and gave herself over to the mind-bending pleasure.
She didn’t hear Bran remove his clothing, but at some point he must have. When she came back to her senses, he was between her legs. His thighs rubbed hers. He explored between her pussy lips with his cock. She sighed and stretched, trying in vain to find the tip of his cock with her pussy.
She took in a sharp breath when he speared her, seating his cock far inside with one solid thrust. Whatever he had spread on her hadn’t given up its power. To hell with not moving. The irritant drove her to move, to meet Bran thrust for thrust.
His torso didn’t touch hers, but the most important part of him, the part she craved, touched her very well indeed. He pumped her with his cock, and then reached between them and twisted the thing in her ass. Any second she would come like a rocket. Any second… She strained for the heavens.
Bran stopped.
“Move, damn you!” So close. She was so close. Muscles limp and near exhaustion, she slumped onto the bed, still breathing hard.
When she calmed, Bran thrust again, turning the butt plug and rubbing her overly sensitized skin. In seconds, she was back at the abyss. This time he didn’t stop, pushing her to the edge and over. Ground zero, her pussy, radiated waves of pleasure, leaving her control in shreds.
