“Who’s up for a threesome?”


Whoops and catcalls echoed around the campfire while Brandt McKay seethed in the shadows of the pine trees.

“And I mean anyone,” Mike, that little fucking prick, emphasized with a drunken leer. “Guys, gals.

Hell, it don’t matter if it’s more than three. In fact, the more the merrier! Me’n Jessica here—” he whacked Jessie’s bikini-clad butt hard, “—are up for a good fuckin’ time tonight.”

“Or a good time fucking,” someone shouted.

“You got that right,” Mike shot back to additional wolf whistles.

Jessica. The little fucking prick didn’t even know Jessie’s name, for Christsake. What the hell was she doing with him?

Ain’t that why you’re spying on her like some lovesick peeping Tom? To figure out why she turned you down but she’s hooked up with a loser worse than you?

Brandt ignored his sarcastic internal voice that resembled his father’s. He remained as still as a hunter tracking prey as he spied on his brother’s widow. The woman he’d purposely stayed away from for the last six months. Sweet Jesus, sweet Jessie looked good. Better than good and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the skimpy string bikini she wore. He’d always suspected a knockout body lurked beneath the frumpy western clothes she’d favored, but holy shit. She was perfect—all long, lean muscles with a few well-placed curves.

“Any takers?” Mike prompted the motley group of drunks.

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“Hell yeah!”

“But Mike—”

Mike ground his mouth into Jessie’s, cutting off her protest.

Encouraging whoops rang out when Mike wrapped his arms around Jessie’s bare thighs. He clumsily threw her over his shoulder, half-stumbling past the fire pit as he headed toward the campsites.

Since Jessie was hanging upside down, Brandt couldn’t tell how she felt about Mike’s invitation for a sexual free for all.

He scowled and picked his way around rocks and shrubs, trying to keep the couple within his line of sight. But his damn flip-flops slipped on the pine needles. Tree branches scraped his bare chest and legs since he only wore board shorts. His fishin’ buddies, Rob and Brent, had already packed up their tackle Cowgirls Don’t Cry

boxes. He should’ve gone home an hour ago, after his less-than-productive chat with Jessie…except he didn’t trust these douchebags, and his gut instinct had been dead on. He doubted Jessie had turned into a party girl, indulging in random fucks with strange guys.

Maybe she’s changed. Maybe she wants to experience every sexual scenario Luke had indulged in.

Highly unlikely. But he wanted to keep her from doing something she’d regret.

Mike stopped in front of a mid-sized camper. He let Jessie slide down his body and pushed her against the side of the camper as he opened the door.

Was she that drunk Mike had to hold her up?

Nope. Jessie walked into the camper on her own accord.


A couple minutes later, two guys, talking loudly about blowjobs and double penetration, wandered up from the bonfire.

Brandt was out of the darkness, blocking them before either reached the door.

“Hey, man.” A sunburned, shirtless blond guy waved a bottle of vodka in Brandt’s face. “You here to fuck that skinny chick too?”

“I don’t wanna fuck her. I’m gonna ram my dick so far into her mouth she’ll feel my balls on her chin,” boasted the second guy, who sported an ape-like chest.

Brandt crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve got enough players, so take off.”

“Fuck that, man,” the blond spat. “We were invited.”

“Yeah,” the hairy one chimed in, “move it.”

“Make me.” No way was he letting these guys past him. No. Fucking. Way.

“You think you’re tough,” hairy guy sneered. “There’s two of us and only one of you. I’d say the odds are in our favor.”

“Yeah? Then bring it, motherfucker, ’cause I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

The blond dude squinted at Brandt. “Hold up a sec.”

“What? We can take him.”

“You’re that cowboy asshole from the bar fight at Rockin’ R last month.” The blond guy spoke to his friend. “He’s the one who punched Troy.”

“Is that the guy whose ribs I broke?” Brandt asked, hoping the lie sounded credible.

“No. You busted Troy’s tooth. Fucked up his face good too.”

Brandt shrugged. “Huh. I guess it must’ve been the other guy who wanted a piece of me—right after I handed your buddy his ass. Or should I say after I handed him his tooth.”

The two guys exchanged a look.

“To be honest, I don’t remember a helluva lot from that night except I was pissed off, shitfaced and spoilin’ for a fight.” He flashed his teeth in a feral grin. “Unlike now. I’m pissed off, spoilin’ for a fight, but I’m completely sober.”


“So we doin’ this? Or are you two walkin’ the fuck away?”

Both guys held up their hands and backed off. “No problem, man. We’re going.”

“Good. And feel free to pass along the message that Mike’s invitation for an orgy has been canceled.”

They nodded and stumbled back toward the party.

Brandt waited another couple of minutes, but no one else appeared.

His deep inhalation didn’t provide a sense of calm. Chances were high his temper would still get the best of him tonight, but it couldn’t possibly be worse than his imagination. He opened the door.

The older model camper smelled musty and was dark except for a light shining from the back. He passed a cramped living area and froze by the miniscule cook top when he noticed two naked forms. One standing. One…not.

Jessie was on her knees. Her strawberry blonde waves hung down her spine, brushing the dimples above her bare ass when she bobbed her head. Mike’s hands were twisted in her hair as he bumped his pelvis into Jessie’s face. His chorus of “That’s it, baby” and “Suck it harder” bounced off the fake paneling.

Brandt had been ready—eager even—to jump in and pummel that little fucking prick Mike if he’d taken advantage of Jessie. But it appeared Jessie…was enjoying giving Mike a blowjob. Brandt must’ve made a noise, because Mike looked up with a drunken leer.

“I was beginning to wonder if anyone was gonna take me up on my offer. Go ahead and get nekkid.

I’m about finished.” Mike’s hold on Jessie’s head tightened as he rammed his cock into her mouth.

“Almost there. That’s good, baby. Get ready to swallow.”

Jessie vehemently shook her head no.

Mike’s braying donkey laughter grated. “No swallowing on the first date, huh? I’ll come on your tits.

But you hafta do the work.”

She pushed back, dislodging his cock from her mouth with a soft pop. Her arm moved up and started moving fast as she jacked him off.

Mike shut his eyes, not watching as Jessie finished him.

Brandt should’ve been turned off. He should’ve walked off.

So why was he having the exact opposite reaction? Why had his dick leapt to attention as if it were next in line?

“That was fantastic.” Mike pulled up his trunks as Jessie got to her feet.

“Can I get a drink?” Jessie asked, wiping off her chest with a beach towel.

“I’ve got something right here.” Mike handed her a nearly empty bottle of Southern Comfort.

Jessie grabbed it, chugging until Mike snatched it out of her hand, warning, “Hey, leave some for me.”

“I thought you wanted me drunk so we could get our freak on.”

Another donkey like laugh erupted. “You need to be drunk to do that?”


He swatted her ass. “Hop up on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

Jessie face-planted in the center of the mattress.

Before Brandt moved, Mike blocked him and whispered, “Don’t do nothin’ to her until I get back.”

“Where are you goin’?”

“Ah. I left a joint in my truck. I’d offer to share, but there’s really only like half left, so…”

Man, Jessie really knew how to pick ’em. This fucker had no problem sharing her with another guy or two, but he had an issue sharing his pot?


Mike pointed at Brandt’s swimming trunks. “Might as well strip them off so we can get right to it when I get back.”

Brandt shook his head. “I’ll be leavin’ them on.”

A slimy smile distorted Mike’s face. “You sly motherfucker. You like to watch, eh?”

I’d like to watch my fist connect with your face. But Brandt merely shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” The camper door slammed behind Mike.

Brandt paused by Jessie’s side, unsure what to do. He swept her silky hair from her face, which caused her to emit a disgruntled sound and turn her head away from him.


Brandt sat on the edge of the bed. “Jessie?”

Her body went rigid, but she didn’t move.

He tried again. “Jessie? It’s me.”


Holy hell that hurt. Like a hoof to the solar plexus that knocked the breath from his lungs kind of pain.

“No, it’s not—”

“Go away, Luke, you’re not real.”

Was she slurring her words? “Are you drunk?”

“Sorta, but I won’t let you make me feel guilty after all the times you were drunk. After all you did to me, you bastard.”

Her voice cracked, creating another chink in Brandt’s armor.

A beat of silence passed. And another. Finally Brandt spoke. “Jessie. Listen—”

“No. I’m done listening to my dead husband’s phantom voice. So go away, get outta my head.”

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