Ride Me Dirty(16)

What we were doing together wasn't a big deal. Sure, I'd never had a  threesome before, never had a guy fuck me over his desk either while his  cousin listened in on speaker phone. Never had a bejeweled plug in my  ass. None of this bossy shit that seemed to make me ruin my  panties-before I was forced to hand them over.

For me, it was a big deal on the 'ways I've had sex' scale, but it was  casual. Fine, it wasn't a one night stand. It was a short term,  week-long fuck fest. I was going to go back to New York with my orgasm  quota checked off for the year. That was it. I didn't have time for  anything else. I didn't want anything else. Did I?

Jack and Sam were nothing like Chad. They were gentlemen, albeit horny  ones. They held doors, made sure I was safe, even made sure I came  first, even if that involved a finger or a plug in my ass. God, I could  feel the remnants of that play as we walked down the street.

The chemistry was off the charts, that whole butt play proving it, and …   well, they were just nice guys. Hot, horny, dominant, nice guys. They  made me think about things I never considered before. Living in Montana,  two men, hell, a whole new life. No. My life was in New York in that  corner office, not between them in bed. I pushed those thoughts to the  back of my mind and focused on getting Charlie's house sold.

Turned out, Swan's Diner was only a block away from Sam's office. It sat  on the corner of Main and Hogan, where the only stoplight in town-in  the county, probably-was situated. The building, like all others, was  old and brick. The interior didn't have the polish The Barking Dog did.  Like Charlie's house, it hadn't been updated since the seventies. The  booths were red, the counters white with gold sparkle in them. There was  even a jukebox in the corner. Smells of coffee and grilled onions were  strong when we entered and Sam steered me toward the back. It took a few  minutes to get to Sally's table since Sam had to shake hands and say  hello to everyone on the way. He knew everyone and he'd made  introductions, although they all knew me, whether by the gossip mill or  remembering me from when I was kid visiting Charlie. There was Bob, the  man who ran the feed store. Miss Mary, Sam's pre-school teacher-yes, she  had to be ninety-seven. Karl, the long haul trucker.

They'd all been really nice, which had been a shock. As Sam talked  highway construction with Karl, I realized there was something really  kind of wrong with me if I was shocked people were nice. Nice! What had I  expected? I expected them to know that I'd somehow bent over Sam's desk  and let him do stuff to me that was probably illegal in Utah and  Alabama. I expected them to know I had no panties on.

If they somehow knew-perhaps because of the very satisfied look on Sam's  face-they didn't mention it. They were nice. There was that dang word  again. People weren't all jackasses in New York, but everyone had a game  plan, an agenda. A mental to-do list that didn't include asking after  their mother or finding out if their pumpkins were going to be in the  State Fair again this summer. Crap, I just described myself.

This feeling of community, of caring, it was odd. It was …  nice. Damn.

As we headed toward the back, Sam froze. "Shit," he whispered.

"What?" I asked, looking around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary other than me stepping into Happy Land.

"Brace yourself. You're strong. You can handle it." Sam didn't say more,  but guided me toward the back booth with a hand at the small of my  back.

Dread filled me-for what, I had no idea-but his hand seemed less  courteous and more of a preventative measure to keep me from running  away.

"Mom," Sam said.

Oh shit. She would know what we did and think I corrupted him with my  slutty, big city ways. Not just her son, but her Jack as well. I'd just  let Sam fuck me over his desk while his cousin listened through the  speaker phone.         

     



 

A woman in her early sixties stood and faced Sam, smiled. While he gave  her a very warm hug, she smiled at me over his shoulder. She didn't look  surprised at all by our arrival.

Of course. I was the reason she was here, not to see Sam. If she lived  in town, I had no doubt they saw each other all the time. She wasn't  missing him, she didn't want to miss seeing me. What had everyone been  saying? I inwardly cringed at what this woman was going to do? Stab me  with a butter knife?

I was right, I was her sole focus, because she nudged Sam out of the way  to get to me. It wasn't hard to do, for while she was a foot shorter,  she was sturdy and I was sure she'd run roughshod over him a time or  two. She had short dark hair, gray strands attractively threaded  throughout, and a quick smile.

"I'm Violet, Sam's mother and Jack's aunt."

I held out my hand-it was definitely sweaty and I wiped it on my pants  first-and she shook it, but then pulled me in for a hug, my arms trapped  at my sides. "Honey, we hug everyone around here."

She was warm and soft and smelled of flowers. Her embrace was heartfelt  and it was nice. I couldn't remember the last time-or ever-my mother  hugged me. And yet I was a stranger to this woman and she pulled me  right on in. Were people crazy here, or was it me?

"How did you know where to find us?" Sam asked.

Violet waved her hand. "Katie's in town to deal with Charlie's estate.  She met with you to get the legal paperwork signed and of course she'll  want to sell the house. Selling the house means meeting Sally Martin and  Sally Martin always eats lunch at the same time and the same place. It  was simple logic."

"Of course it was," Sam murmured, the corner of his mouth tipping up. He  offered me a quick glance, but said nothing. What could he say besides  run?

"Sit …  sit, or we'll never eat," Sally commanded. "You know how my blood  sugar gets." The blond woman at the table had to be Sally. Where Violet  was all baked cookies and flower gardens, Sally was all dual wheel  pickup truck and hunting rifles.

Violet didn't even blink at the other woman's sass, but sat back down  and slid into the booth across from her friend. Sam gestured for me to  sit beside Sally and when I did, he took the place next to his mom.

"Heard you two had a date last night."

I flushed red and Sam thanked the waitress for his glass of water.  Either he'd had enough one night stands to be unaffected by such  questions or he was a natural at faking it. "If you two know everything,  why are we even meeting?" he asked.

If she knew everything, I'd be run out of town.

"Well, it's been awhile since you and Jack had a woman together," Violet said.

I almost choked on my spit.

"Mom, that sounds completely inappropriate," Sam scolded, completely unfazed by his mother.

"I didn't mean it that way," Violet replied, then glanced to me. "It's  been over ten years since you two were interested in a woman together.  Your fathers and I are pleased. For you, and Jack."

"Fathers?" I asked, looking at Sam. "You have two dads, too?" God, he  had said one of his dads had had a heart attack, but I hadn't processed  it. It was just so dang weird.

"Oh yes, dear," Violet answered for him. "I married Tom and Harris Kane almost forty years ago."

"I was a bridesmaid," Sally said. "Fortunately, bridesmaid dresses were pretty back then. What colors are you thinking?"

I realized both women were staring at me and my deer-in-headlights look.

"For what?"

"Don't scare her," Sam warned. "Seriously. She's a lawyer in New York and is only here to-"

"We know all that, son," Violet said, patting his shoulder. "We'll let  off on the bridesmaid dress colors if you come to dinner at the house  before you leave."

I looked between Sally and Violet, slowly shaking my head. "Wow, you  guys are good. You played your own son. Nice," I applauded. "I either  have to listen to you plan my wedding to Sam and Jack or come to dinner.  How can I refuse such an arm twisting invitation?"

I narrowed my eyes at Sam, but he was probably smart to flag down the waitress.

Sam's mother was no idiot. Neither was Sally, but I wasn't marrying her  son. I'd have to keep an eye on both of them. While Sam and Jack could  talk me out of my pants-and my panties, those two could have me down the  aisle. Or worse.

"So you want to sell the house?" Sally seemed to know when to change the topic of conversation.

I pulled a straw from the wrapper, stuck it in my water. "It needs tons  of work. The bathroom is the color of an avocado and there's a rooster  clock on the wall in the kitchen. It's like stepping back in time and  while I think vintage is cool, this is like the Brady Bunch meets  Montana."         

     



 

"I remember that rooster clock," Violet said, amused. "I'm amazed it still works."

"That property's value is in the land and the water rights," Sally told me.

The waitress stopped by, pen and paper in hand. "Usual?" she asked.