Free Training Ivy [How The West Was Done 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Karen Mercury Page A

who’d be capable of strangling someone? From the sounds of it, he has a hard time getting out the door, much less down the street. And it takes a lot of power to strangle someone.”
    Harley moved to the couch, where he took Neil by the arm. “I want you standing behind the couch. Let’s move it away from the wall.”
    Ivy rose while the men scooted the couch forward. Neil said, “I agree. Shortridge has been very distraught since the death of his wife. He was never this wallpapered before that happened. Couldn’t be, to build a ranch like that. It’s tough out here in the winter. Men can’t be strewn about singing songs about gourds if they’re running a ranch.”
    Seating herself again, Ivy asked the men behind her, “Could anyone else at the Cow Palace have a ring like that?”
    “He does have a foreman—”
    Neil’s sentence clogged his throat when Harley put his hands upon him. Harley first placed his hands on Neil’s shoulders, positioning him where he wanted him to stand. But when Harley’s palm moved ever so lightly to his hip just inches from his erection, Neil held his breath.
    “Here,” said Harley. “Stand off to the side so we can see you from the thighs up.”
    The couch wouldn’t begin to cover his erect cock. As Neil strove to conjure up the most recent corpse’s image in the hope it would deflate his cock, the solid, erotic heat of the engineer next to him prevented this from success.
    “I don’t think we really want the photograph to show…” Neil mumbled.
    Harley’s voice came, humid and seductive, right behind his ear. “Oh, yes, we want to show,” he asserted.
    And, amazingly, Harley’s broad, talented palm slid over to boldly grasp and squeeze his stiffened penis!
    Neil gasped, relieved that Ivy was facing the camera obediently. What sort of inverted poof was this world traveler? Was this something they ran around doing in India? Yet Neil didn’t have the presence of mind to elbow the fellow away, and of course the sensation of having his bulging prick fondled sent rushes of lewd hunger through his limbs.
    Harley muttered in his ear, “This is exactly what we want to show.” He squeezed the entire stiff pizzle in his hand again, even making circular motions against the underside of the shaft with his thumb before releasing him and returning to his camera.
    Neil was left gasping, little clear bubbles swimming before his eyes. That was it—it must be some Far Eastern thing. Harley seemed schooled in those arts, and his fiery eyes—and his peach pits—betrayed that he had interest and perhaps experience in the sort of “Italian fashion” Neil had been schooled in when hobbled in New South Wales.
    Great balls of fire! Would Harley be dredging up all those perverted, lewd, yet scintillating memories? Neil had to stay far away from this lecherous cove, especially if Harley intended on competing with him for Ivy’s hand.
    “Shortridge has a ranch foreman?” Ivy asked innocently, ignorant of the entire provocative scene that had just played out behind her back. “Might he wear a ring like that?”
    “We can’t move,” Neil advised breathlessly.
    “Nonsense,” said Ivy. Louder, she called to Harley, “This is the new sort of camera, is it not? I had my photograph made in Hyde Park with one like this.”
    “Yes,” said Harley. “You need only hold still for a few seconds. Starting…now.”
    Neil literally held his breath when Harley withdrew a slide to expose the plate. What did Harley intend to use this piece of pornography for? It would be useful as blackmail. With a sudden fright, Neil realized Harley could use it against him to win Ivy’s hand, threatening to literally expose her to the offending image if Neil didn’t back down.
    Why had he allowed Harley to manipulate him like this? He had just been so shocked, that was all. It wasn’t every day a man came up behind one and massaged one’s penis. Well, not in the Far West, anyway. In New South Wales it had