Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read Free Page A

morning he pretended she was nothing to him? She would not let herself need a man who blew hot and cold. Max shunned her in public yet did this to her when alone. She would not tolerate it. Either he wanted her, or he didn’t.
    “Don’t touch me!”
    He backed away, hands up. “Now, sugar, don’t—”
    “Don’t you ‘sugar’ me, Maxwell Gibson! You made it very clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She crossed her arms over her aching breasts. “I need you to catch Mr. Isaac. Otherwise I’d throw you out of my hotel tonight. Now get out of my kitchen!”
    Max waited a moment. When she didn’t give in, he sighed and turned away. His feet thudded up the stairs, one at a time. Her chin wobbled. Would she ever have a chance for such absolute pleasure again? He looked over his shoulder at her. She hardened her heart, lifted her chin, and glared up at him.
    “Sophie, I’m not—”
    She turned so fast her skirts almost tripped her. All the way to her room she felt his sad eyes on her back.
    “I haven’t touched a man in seven years!” She pulled the pins out of her hair with trembling fingers. Her braid fell down her back. “He’s like an icicle in public, treating me as if I’m nothing but a servant. Then he does this!”
    She hung her dress on the hook by the barred door.
    “I don’t need him. Once Mr. Isaac is dead, I can leave Tanner’s Ford and go where I want. I can sell this hotel and buy a home of my own. No one will care if I visit a big city and find a man to entertain me. I can come back to my friends and live happily.”
    Her petticoats dropped to the floor. She stepped out of them and placed them across the chair, ready for the morning. Her shift followed her dress over her head. The cool air touched her heated skin. She stomped to the wall to hang her shift over her dress. Her naked thighs slipped past each other. She looked down. Fluid glistened in the lamplight from her swollen pussy lips to almost halfway to her knees. She clenched her internal muscles as if she had a cock inside. They responded sluggishly, as if too swollen to react.
    “It’s not only men who have needs! “
    She looked at her swollen breasts. Her nipples, hard and crinkled, stuck out. She cupped her breasts. Her hands weren’t big enough to cover all her flesh. Max’s would not only cover her, his calluses would rub deliciously against her nipples.
    “Enough!”
    She yanked on her nightgown, kicked her shoes off, and rolled down her stockings. She placed them in her shoes and climbed into bed. Her cold, empty, bed.
    “I would never have let him lift my skirts and take me against the wall.”
    Yes, you would, she answered silently. And then you’d beg for more.
    The bed ropes squeaked when she shoved herself onto her side. She thumped her pillow for good measure. She would not let one man’s touch change her mind.
    No matter how much she wanted more.
     
    * * * *
     
    Sam Gibson rested his hand on the square newel post at the top of the back stairs. Max was sleeping in their room over the kitchen. What had possessed him to touch Sophie like that? He rubbed the cock straining against his pants. That was the reason. Sophie McLeod made him so damn hot that every time he saw her he wanted to haul her into the nearest bed and ravish her.
    “Don’t need a bed. Wall will do,” he said. He thought back to what he’d been doing when he realized she watched him ironing Max’s shirt. “Or a table.”
    He snorted a laugh and scrubbed his hair. Yes, the sturdy table he’d done his ironing on would take her weight. It was even the perfect height. He could lay her on her back, lift her skirts, and slide right into her pussy. Or he could bend her forward and take her from behind. Either way, she’d be hot and wet, and wanting. Just like tonight.
    “How the heck am I going to pretend to be ice-cold Max when I know she’s not wearing drawers?”
    Sliding his fingers up her slippery thighs had him trembling.