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

been known to occur every day. Over there, out of boredom, men quite often forcibly frigged or sucked on one another—strictly out of boredom. But once you knew who your chums were and had everything worked out, it became a pleasant daily occurrence. What else was there to do when the day’s cattle were rounded up other than to mutually frig a chum till both were satisfied?
    “Done.”
    As Harley slid the plate from the camera, Neil came around the couch and sat next to Ivy. They turned to each other so their knees touched, and Neil took her hands in his. “Yes, he’s got a ranch foreman who might possibly wear a ring like that. I know you’re probably exhausted from travel and all the excitement of today—”
    “Don’t come in the kitchen,” Harley instructed as he spirited his plate down the hall.
    “—but I would like to make an appointment with you after breakfast tomorrow to show you the telegraph office. If you sincerely wish to operate the telegraph—”
    “Oh, I do!” Ivy cried brightly, squeezing his hand in hers.
    “—then I can show you its workings. There’s some saphead attempting to work it now, but he keeps mixing up the signals, as he can’t spell. There was a big brouhaha yesterday when he passed on a message that someone’s mother in California had been killed by a lode. Everyone started gossiping that an ore cart full of gold had tipped over on her. Took us a while to figure out that she had been miffed by a loan, some financial transaction she hadn’t approved of. So, you see, it’s of the utmost importance that the telegraph operator can spell well. I presume you can?”
    “Oh, the best,” Ivy said, all seriousness. Cheering up, she added, “But you will let me come to the Bucket of Blood, dear Neil, won’t you? When you interview that Rodney Shortridge Admiral Lushington?”
    “A saloon isn’t the place for a lady. Your father would have my hide if he found out I allowed you in there.”
    Ivy pouted. She folded her arms under her bosom, causing the wondrous globes to heave upward, nearly popping out of their tight satin casing. “Dear Neil. As you’ve seen, I don’t pay much attention to my father’s wishes or concerns.”
    It was she who leaned forward and kissed him! Neil was so taken aback to suddenly find her soft, plump lips nibbling hungrily at his, he slid his hand up her neck. He plunged his fingers into the mass of curls behind her ear, reveling in the silken feel of her locks that radiated her particular pine scent, inflaming his nostrils. The nape of her neck was still damp from her bath. Neil recalled that she had just been kissing that intelligent debauchee Captain Park, and he opened his mouth to suck on her lower lip.
    Ivy scooted so close she was fairly sitting in his lap. Her left knee parted his thighs, nudging them apart. With a little hop, she vaulted herself up and over him so the floor of her pelvis—her pussy , for crying out loud—was plastered to the top of his knee. Snorting and panting into his mouth, she cupped his jaw in her hands and kissed him slowly, salaciously.
    What a vixen! Layers of various fabrics separated them, but Neil’s knee was deriving vast pleasure from her humping. She clamped her thighs with a vigor and power that led him to wonder what sort of gymnastics she’d been doing.
    They supped on each other’s mouths. Ivy parted her lips and snaked her tongue inside his mouth, giving his tongue little catlike licks. He slid a palm around her backside and gathered a handful of her ass in his hand, hoping to convince her to straddle him completely and plaster her pussy over his erection.
    That was when Ivy gave a little gasp, pulled away from Neil, and opened her eyes wide.
    “Oh!” she cried, as though surprised to discover herself kissing him. “I’m sorry!” And she clambered off his lap.
    “Sorry for what?” Neil whispered, his head agog, missing her already.
    Ivy smoothed down the lap of her skirt, her hair, her