Her Bareback Cowboys by Ylette Pearson

scissoring motion before he started thrusting into her, deeper and deeper with every stroke. Wade closed his mouth over hers, mimicking the intimacy Maverick played out, whilst rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
    Wade caught her cry in his mouth as she tumbled over the edge. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her legs quavered in time with the spasms pulsating through her vagina, milking Maverick’s fingers. Some time later, the spasms receded and he removed his fingers, licking each one clean of her juices and smacking his lips.
    Maverick dropped to the floor. “Lady, you pack one hell of a punch.” His voice was unusually deep.
    Although spent and sated, without the protection of the men’s bodies, a chill spread to her limbs and she shivered.
    “You’re cold. Here, let me help you.” Maverick reached for her clothes and held out her blouse to her, but before her hand could close on the garment, a door banged shut somewhere inside the house.
    “The chef,” she whispered and scrambled to her feet, a blush heating her cheeks. If the woman found them like this, she’d die of shame.
    Wade chuckled, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. When he turned to toe the door shut, Maverick stood behind them with her bra slung over his shoulder and twirling her G-string round his finger.
    “It wouldn’t do for her to find your underwear draped over the lampshade in the lounge, would it?”
    Adrian hadn’t thought her face could get any hotter, but she felt the blush rise from her neck to her ears. She reached for the garments, but Maverick sidestepped her and shut the door.
    “Not so fast, honey. I believe we still have some unfinished business.”
    He arched an eyebrow at Wade who deposited Adrian on the bed, grabbed Maverick by the collar and shoved him toward the door.
    “I think Adrian needs some time alone. Besides, the whiskey is warming next to the fire. It wouldn’t do to waste it.”
    Adrian watched with her mouth agape as they walked out of the room. The door clicked behind them and she drew her knees to her chest. What had she missed? Had she somehow offended Wade by not offering them their own release? Why would he want to give her space? She didn’t need space—she needed a psychiatrist for having a roll in the hay with her models.
     
    Upon their return to the fire, Maverick forced his mind off the discomfort in his pants and retrieved his glass nestling on the mantelpiece by the fire. As Wade had predicted, the amber liquid had warmed significantly during their absence and he grimaced, depositing the glass once again on the shelf.
    They were playing a dangerous game. Marie could have walked in on them at any time. Despite his inability to keep his hands off Adrian, he didn’t want to cause more trouble for her. He might not buy Marie’s insistence that she was sent here as chaperone, but it was still possible that she was telling the truth. If he could just find out what bothered him about their resident chef…
    Maverick shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward Wade. “I know Marie from somewhere, but I can’t seem to place her.”
    Wade chuckled softly. “Marie? The chef?”
    Maverick nodded and scowled. “It’s not what you think. I’ve seen her before or someone resembling her.”
    “How? We arrived in South Africa yesterday and Marie only had eyes for Adrian—both last night and this morning.”
    Maverick reached for the liquid again but remembered the foul taste of warm whiskey and dropped his arm. He stared into the flickering fire. Although Marie had concentrated on Adrian, it felt as if she she’d been actively avoiding his gaze. Come to think of it, she hadn’t paid Wade any notice either, but at least she’d looked Wade in the eye when she’d talked to him. No, she was hiding something—from him.
    “I think we need to have a little chat with the chef, find out if she really is just a chef or if she’s here for other