Chapter Two

I set about my jobs in the yard with a lighter heart than I’d thought I’d have. Liam was right. The girls did love being at equestrian school and they’d chattered for days about all the things planned for the term as we’d bought and packed their bags. They’d called friends to check on which colors and styles of head collars had already been taken and to find out the latest trends in winter blanket designs.

I fed the dogs their tins of meat and a bone each then scattered a scoop of seeds for the hens. Pausing, I watched Betsy leap around in the twilight shadows at the side of the barn. She didn’t have a mouse, she was simply playing with the last of the floating seeds coming down from the paddock. She was five years old now—the girls had gotten her for their third birthday—but she still acted like a kitten when she wasn’t sleeping.

Picking up a long-pronged fork, I dumped it in a squeaky wheelbarrow and headed toward Jasper’s stable. Sophie was incredibly keen on rules and had nailed all sorts of signs onto the wooden wall by Jasper’s door. “No uninvited guests”, one said in bold letters and underneath in smaller writing she’d added, “that means you too Billy!” Others read “Straw on the floor, hay in the net”, “Sugar cubes in moderation”, and “A pony is for life not just for Christmas”.

Stepping in, I clambered up the bank of straw in the far corner and flicked off the tiny CCTV camera Liam had installed. Each stable had one and it meant the girls and I could check on the ponies by flicking on the TV instead of traipsing across the yard. He’d connected it last spring when Jasper had laminitis. He’d looked out of his office window at three in the morning and seen Sophie running barefoot over the yard in her cotton nightdress to check on him. Liam had been horrified that the girls could and would get up in the night and let themselves out of the house. It was one of the few times I’d seen him truly cross with Sophie and she’d sobbed at seeing her gentle, placid father so incensed. But, ever practical, Liam had installed closed-circuit TV along with a high bolt on each door. Now when the girls were worried for any reason in the night they just had to flick on any TV in the farmhouse to channel eighty and they’d see their ponies sleeping or chewing hay. Jasper had never suffered from laminitis again but the cameras had stayed.

I set about mucking out the stable, tossing straw into the wheelbarrow and up the banks around the edge. When the floor was clean and swept, I hung up the empty hay net in the tack room, tipped away the bucket of water and bolted the door. It would stay that way until Jasper returned.

After cleaning Bramble’s stable in the same manner, I dragged two straw bales from the barn and set them on top of each other. Just before the ponies returned I’d share the fresh bedding between the two stables. Make them cozy for the chilly month of December.

Feeling hot, I shrugged off my fleecy sweater and wiped my forearm over my brow. Straightening, I sensed the stable darkening as a long shadow stretched around my feet.

I turned and pressed a hand to my chest, startled by a second presence when I’d been lost in my thoughts.

Standing dead center in the doorway, filling half the space with his broad shoulders was Quinn, silhouetted by the setting sun that shone golden behind him like a full-body halo. He wore an expensive, tailor-made suit. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his short dark hair was highlighted around his ears and neck by the light. I couldn’t make out his expression.

“You made me jump,” I said. “The dogs didn’t bark.”

“I’m sorry about that.” His voice was deep and drawling—he still had an American twang even after all these years. “They didn’t look up from their bones.”

He stepped through a shard of light dancing with dust motes. I stared up at him as his face came into focus. He looked so brooding, black eyebrows low, mouth set, and my heart somersaulted—I was anxious as to the outcome of his day.

“Well?” I asked. “How did it go?”

He swallowed and the sound was noisy in the quiet stillness. Then he removed his glasses, folded in the arms and put them in his breast pocket.

“Quinn,” I said more firmly. “How did it go?”

In a sudden rush he stepped forward and grabbed me around the waist. Lifted me into the air and spun me a full three-sixty. “I got it. I damn well got the money, Ariane.”

“Oh, wow!” I put my hands on his shoulders and smiled down at his delighted face as he hoisted me higher still. “You did? Really?” I knew how much this meant to him.

“Yeah, really. Two million for the next six months with a potential further two if the research looks promising.” He pressed his lips to mine in a hard, excited kiss. “And it will, I know it will. Initial trials are right on track.” He set my feet on the floor but kept me pulled up against his body.

“I’m thrilled for you, Quinn.” I slid my hands up the smooth lapels of his silver-gray jacket. “I didn’t doubt you’d make a good case for the grant, but two million. It was asking a lot.”

“Yeah, I know, but think how much they’ll make if I can prove their immune suppressants work. They’ll be one of the wealthiest pharmaceutical companies on the planet.” He threaded his fingers into my hair and tipped my face to his. “Plus, and more importantly, I really think this is going to save lives.”

I smiled up at him. His black eyes sparkled with triumph. Or so I thought. Because then he bent his head and kissed me—hot, wet and thoroughly. I kissed him back, loving his dark-chocolate flavor and his spiced scent. There was something about the kiss that told me the sparkle in Quinn’s eyes had more to do with lust than pharmacology.

“The girls get to school okay?” he asked, pulling back just far enough to study my face.

“Yes, fine.”

“Good.” He was kissing me again, his hands sliding up and down my back, over my butt and thighs, sending tingles of sensation through my clothes and onto my skin. “No more having to be quiet and discreet then,” he said breathlessly as he kissed over my cheek and onto my neck.

“No.” I pushed my hands into his hair, messed it up and offered myself for his kiss. His chin, coated in short evening stubble, scratched my flesh in a wickedly tempting way. “No more having to be quiet, no more having to wait until nighttime and locking the door.” I leaned harder against his body. The steely length of his erection prodded my stomach.

He moaned and squeezed me all the tighter. “Let’s celebrate,” he murmured.

“What, the grant money or the fact we can have sex when and wherever we want to again?”

“Both.” Sneaking his hand up the inside of my t-shirt, he filled his palm with my breast—massaging and kneading, drawing my nipple to a stiff peak through the satin.

I whimpered and shoved at his jacket. Celebratory sex sounded like a great idea. He released me for a split second and the expensive jacket slipped down his arms and landed on the dusty floor with a quiet whump.

Drake ran in, damp nose sniffing our legs as he tangled his big, square body with our knees. He barked a greeting at Quinn.

“Get outta here,” Quinn ordered with a frown.

Drake let out a whine, turned on his heels and galloped out of the stable. He would never have gone if I’d told him to, but like most animals, and people, when Quinn said something it happened.

His hands were on me again, around the waistband of my pants this time. Pushing and shoving them along with my knickers down my thighs. Cool air hit my warm flesh and a sudden rush of blood to my pelvis sent my nerve endings dizzy with desire.

“You taste gorgeous,” he said, tracing the seam of my lips with his tongue. “Like berries or candy.”

“Mm, raspberry tea.” I clung to his crisp white shirt as his he delved between my pussy lips. “Oh, Quinn.” I shuffled my legs to spread them wider within the confines of my pants. “Yes, that’s good.”

He pressed against my swelling clit and my knees turned weak.

“Yes, that’s it. Just there.”

He snaked his other hand around my waist and held me as he began wicked little rotations with just the right amount of pressure over my needy nub. Muttering something incoherent, I tilted my hips for more and let him support my body.

He fretted and circled until I was panting and swollen then he whispered, “Turn around. Turn around, Ariane. I want to see your pretty ass.”

He lifted his fingers from me and I quickly did as he asked, my whole body buzzing and my breaths coming quick. Gripping the stacked bales of straw, I tipped over, offering my naked rump.

“Ah, the perfect celebration,” he said, smoothing his hands over my trembling flesh.

Clutching a handful of straw, I turned and glanced up at his angular face cast in shadows. His lips were moist from our kisses and slightly parted as he looked down at me, exposed for his eyes and his touch. He slid his fingers into the cleft of my cheeks, over my anus to my pussy entrance. I whimpered. I needed him inside me, touching me. It was a need that was becoming more painful with each passing second that it wasn’t met.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.” And with that he pushed two of his long, elegant fingers into me high and firm, until his knuckles butted against my folds. I groaned and clenched around him.

“You’re so wet for me,” he said. “So hot and wet you’re practically dripping.”

“Yes, oh Quinn, I want you, I want your cock inside me, please now.”

He didn’t reply. Instead he began to pump his fingers in and out, curling the tips so he rubbed against my G-spot. It felt so good, so deeply satisfying. But my clit needed attention too, so I dropped my fistful of straw and began to search out release myself.

“Oh, that’s so damn sexy,” he muttered, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll never get enough of watching you touch yourself.”

I heard the zipper on his pants then his heavy breaths were close by my ear, his chest just touching my back. I carried on masturbating, climbing to orgasm. Writhing on the straw bales, my breasts flattened against fronds that scratched the flesh of my stomach where my top had rumpled upward.

Suddenly the wide head of his cock brushed my entrance.

“Quinn,” I whimpered, naked desire making my voice as thick as treacle. “Please, fuck me.”

He placed his hands on either side of my head and curled his fingers around the bale as though holding it steady.

He forged in, dominant, powerful and possessive.

I cried out in delight and my knees collapsed as he rode to the hilt. Quinn’s cock, long and lean with his thickly rounded mushroom head, always rubbed my G-spot wonderfully from this angle.

“Oh Jeez,” he grunted. “This is where I’ve wanted to be all damn day.”

I couldn’t manage a reply. I was lost to him, lost to the imminent climax his thrusting was building in me.

“Fucking you is the best thing ever, Ariane,” he said then groaned, “I love you, I love you so much.”

“I…I love you too,” I managed, arching my back and neck and fretting my clit harder, faster. “I love you. I love you, Quinn Gilbert.”

Suddenly he pulled out. He lifted from my back and his fingers were all over me, in me, spreading my copious lubricating moisture from my pussy up and over my anus, circling the tight ring of muscle that led to my back entrance.

“Relax,” he said in a voice so taut it could have snapped like an elastic band. “Relax, Ariane.”

I forced my taut band of muscle to ease as the wide head of his cock nudged my anus. When Quinn said “relax” in that guttural voice, I always knew what was coming. I dropped my forehead onto the straw, closed my eyes and let out a groan. Just waiting for him to enter me in his favorite place.

I didn’t let up, catching and circling my clit the way I liked. Aware of Quinn pushing forward, I braced my spine, loosened my sphincter and let him gain access to my darkest hole.

“Ah, fuck, yeah,” he moaned, dropping his head to the base of my neck again. “Fuck, yeah.” He pushed in some more, stretching and filling me. Sharp and tight, rigid and wide, he invaded me in the most primal of ways.

I gasped and claimed the start of a wonderfully intense orgasm that had been simmering hotly in my sex. “Now, Quinn, come with me now,” I moaned into straw that scratched my cheek and poked into my hair. I continued to drag blindly at my clitoris, feeling my pussy weep with moisture.

He forged forward, entering me until his balls hit my lips and my butt was cradled by his loins. A deeply carnal groan vibrated from his chest, rumbling around the darkening stable and into my body.

My head snapped up as my whole pelvis erupted. I cried out in ecstasy and soared through an orgasm so wild it had my toes curling in my boots and my scalp tingling. Everywhere else in between was pulsating, flying, throbbing as if it would never stop.

Quinn’s body heat left my back. He stood tall, wrapped his hands around my hips and dragged me harder onto his cock, impaling me.

“Jeez, like that, oh, fuck.”

Then he was pumping inside me, his cock spurting as he rode through his own climax. I carried on working my clit, drawing out the pleasure of having him claim my body in such carnal possession.

Orgasm retreating, I pulled my hand from between my legs and dropped my cheek onto the prickly bale. My heated breaths were hard and collected in a mist in front of my face. My pulse pounded loud and wild as it rang through my ears.

“Oh, that was so damn good,” he panted, easing his cock from me. “You okay?” He bent to kiss the exposed, damp hollow of my back.

“Never better.” My anus felt scorched and satisfied. My clit was still humming with sensation.

“Great way to celebrate,” he said, lifting me gently to face him.

I allowed him to move my weak body into his arms and draped my hands around his neck. His softening cock pressed against my stomach and I was aware once more of the cool air around my butt cheeks.

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. “Perfect way to celebrate.”

Now I was truly satisfied. Fucking both my husbands within a few hours of each other always gave me a lovely, hazy glow. All going for it together was the perfect way to reach post-coital bliss but this was good too. Really good.

He kissed me softly as he pulled up my pants and smoothed down my t-shirt.

I broke the kiss, reached down and tucked his cock into his suit pants. He leaned back and watched my hands on him, touching him, caring for him. A sense of pride and possessiveness welled within me. This was the brilliant surgeon who’d just won one of the biggest pharmaceutical grants in the industry and he was all mine—his heart, his body, his gorgeous cock. I bet when he stood in that boardroom this afternoon commanding respect and making important, life-altering decisions, none of the company directors would have guessed he’d come home and celebrate by fucking his wife, who he shared with his best friend, up the ass in a dark, cold stable.

“You hungry?” he asked quietly.

I smiled up at him. “Yes, starving. Liam is making dinner.”