Training Ivy [How The West Was Done 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

Great balls of fire
, Neil was determined to prove it. But he was distracted when Harley gripped his erect penis in his broad, strong hand and squeezed. Was this another part of the challenge—to discover whether Neil could concentrate on the slippery pussy while he massaged his cock? Neil rose to the challenge, so to speak, furiously lapping at the pert extension of Ivy’s clitoris as she bucked her hips toward him.

What would it take to bring her off? Neil hadn’t even known of the existence of female orgasms until yesterday. He went on the assumption that it would be similar, if not identical, to the orgasms of men. He licked away as he built to a grand crescendo that he hoped would arrive before he shot inside his pants, pants that now felt entirely too tight.

Harley squeezed and rubbed Neil’s heavy erection while pressing his own flaccid one to his ass, all the while muttering encouragements. “That’s good. Sip away at her tasty juices. Kiss her vulva with love. She has a most praiseworthy pussy. You will find her flaming hot as any furnace!”

“
Damnation!
” Ivy cried. “
Good God
, Neil, don’t stop!”

Neil didn’t stop, not even when Harley unleashed his prick into the air and wrapped his fist around it. Neil barely let up one stroke when Harley pumped his fist the length of his prick, from stem to stern, inflaming his cock to an unbearable height of arousal. Meanwhile Harley continued to recite his poetry. Apparently he had the ability to concentrate intently on several things at once.

“‘In turning up her robe, the woman shows her vulva developed full and round. Like a cup turned upside down, springy, firm, and full.’”

Harley now humped Neil’s ass with his massive tool that was filling with seed again. Neil could barely breathe in the heated cavern of Ivy’s slimy pussy, his face surrounded with her pungent aroma. When a gusher of juice poured over his tongue, he took this as a sign she was about to spend, and he sped up his tongue stroking.

Neil only paused and gasped when he felt something hotter and more pliant than any dildo nudging against his tight anal ring.
Goddamn Harley.
You can’t keep a good dog down.
Neil panted against Ivy’s steamy pussy while waiting for the expected push that would bring a rush of pain and pleasure mingled.

“Oh
God
, Neil! Don’t stop, damn you!”

Was she coming? There was no way to tell. Other than that she held her breath suddenly and her legs went absolutely stiff, as though she hoped to vault herself off his shoulders and up against the ceiling.

Neil lapped away at Ivy’s drenched pussy, but slower now, giving Harley a chance to sway and jiggle his potent erection deeper up Neil’s ass. The sensation of Harley’s seasoned, expert fist frigging him reached such a fevered ecstasy that Neil exploded as well. His hips quaked and jerked as Harley’s hand drained his prick of all seed, and Neil was about to drown in Ivy’s juices.

Luckily she pushed him away then, gasping for air. Neil emerged from the tropics of her skirts, panting heavily, her juices dripping off his chin. Neil reveled in the feeling of Harley’s prick jerking deep inside him. He wiggled his hips like a woman to urge more jism from Harley’s spending cock, flexing his ass muscles to massage the giant tool deep within him.

Then Harley brained him upside the head.

“What?” Neil sputtered. He twisted his torso to view Harley. “What was that all about, you spoony cove?”

Harley frowned. “What was what?” He grinned salaciously. He really enjoyed the cowboy’s protestations. It would just be too easy and simple if Neil admitted his urges. Harley liked sparring with a feisty stallion like Neil. “You don’t enjoy ejaculating in my hand?”

Standing, Neil looked about for the item that had apparently pasted him.

“Is it this?” Ivy asked, withdrawing a square object from the draperies of her lap.

Neil snatched it up. “A clock.”

Harley chuckled. “Apparently
someone
didn’t like what you were doing and wanted you to stop.”

“Yes.” Ivy giggled. “Your belle, Minerva Shortridge. I wonder what the clock means?”

“It’s ticking,” Neil observed. “And it’s set to five minutes to sev—
oh, shit!
”

Neil asked Harley, “What time is it now, really?”

Harley carried a pocket watch in his waistcoat, which he now withdrew. “Five minutes to seven.” Harley stood, straightening out his attire. “We need to stop this fire from happening.” The lamp behind the stained glass window was the most likely place for a fire to start.

Ivy asked, “Should we just allow the fire to happen? She told you the fire would reveal something to us.” She turned to Neil. “Can you ask Minerva?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Ask her what? How?”

Ivy shrugged. “Just start talking to her?”

Harley said, “It’s not a bad idea, Neil. She talks to you. She obviously likes you.”

So, looking incredibly uncomfortable, Neil looked up at the ceiling, as though he’d find Minerva floating there. “Minerva?” he asked tentatively. “Are you here, Minerva? What else can you tell me about the fire?”

They waited several long moments, and no angel appeared by the ceiling. With his usual impatience for almost any sort of delay, Harley moved to leave the balcony, but Neil grabbed his arm.

“Why do you call me
El Dekhal
?”

Harley grinned. “I knew you were a housebreaker.” Neil froze in shock, so Harley continued, “No, I don’t mean the sort of chap who enters houses and steals things. Although that’s probably why you were sent to a penal colony.” He enjoyed watching Neil squirm in embarrassment. “No, in my Arabic manual of love, that means the sort of penis that knocks at the door of the vulva, demanding to be let in. The vulva says, ‘Impossible! I cannot take you in on account of your size.’”

Neil seemed to relax and even smiled a little at that. Ivy even giggled, but as both men turned to observe her, they stiffened to realize the giggle didn’t come from her.

“Minerva?” Neil asked.

The voice came, tinny and quiet, as though through a speaking tube directly behind Neil’s shoulder. “Yes, it’s me again, Neil Tempest.”

The trio inhaled in surprise. Harley nudged Neil to engage with the spirit. “I’m glad to see you, Minerva. Can you tell me about this alleged fire? Where will it start?”

“Well,” said the tinny voice. “I thought you could figure it out yourself, but you were too busy engaging in adulterous sex.”

“Adulterous?” Neil frowned. “No one here is married to anyone.”

“I wish,” said Minerva, sultry now, “that you would engage in sex with me.”

Another stunned silence ensued. Neil’s bulging eyes sought out Harley for assistance. Harley cleared his throat. “Minerva. You’ve gone to the other side. You’re no longer in this world, so Neil cannot engage in sex with you. He can only have sex with living humans. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d be glad to comply.”

Now the voice became angry. “Other side? What other side? I am still here with you in Laramie City. And if Neil cannot comply, I will not assist you!”

“Uh-oh,” said Ivy.

“Ivy!” Neil whispered. “You try talking to her.”

“Um,” said Ivy. “Minerva? If you’re still here with us on this side of the veil, why can’t you display yourself? I’m sure Neil would enjoy seeing how pretty you are. Maybe then he could—ah, engage in sex with you.”

“You cannot see me?” the tinny Minerva said. “Why can you not see me? I’m standing right here, next to my beau.”

Harley shoved Neil. “You’re her beau, Tempest! Do something!”

Neil reached his two hands out blindly toward the voice, as though caressing her shoulders. “I can feel you,” he probably lied, “but I cannot see you. Can you manifest yourself?”

“I am trying!” Minerva cried. Now the voice sailed into the wailing, keening realm that one expected from spirits, as though ready to smite anyone who crossed her. “I am using my love for you to manifest my form, but all I feel is emptiness and despair!”

“Don’t despair!” cried Neil, fondling the invisible shoulders. “Your husband Rodney would not want you to despair. If he knew you were here he could see you, take you in his arms, remind you of his love—”

Minerva wailed so loudly, the crystals in the overhead chandelier shuddered.
“Aiiiiii,”
she howled like an unseen banshee. “
Rodneeee
…”

“Yes, Rodney!” Neil encouraged her. “If Rodney could see you now, he would gather you in his arms and—”

“
Rodneeeee!
Rodney is a drunken, horrible brute! Why do you think I was out in the field with my shotgun when I died? I was running from him, about to shoot him if he assaulted me one more time!”

Harley tried to steer Minerva away from her despair. “Yes, about the shotgun and the field. You said you were strangled before you were shot. Who strangled you?”

Harley interrupted. “Was it a fellow wearing a derby hat?”

“
Aiiiiii
,” moaned the anguished spirit, and the three humans moved away from the awful sound. “A derby hat, yes! Do you say you do not love me, Neil? Is that why you mention that monster, Rodney?
Aiiiii
…”

“Oh, dear,” said Ivy. “Neil, reassure her! Do something!”

But there came an enormous whoosh of an explosion, and the stained glass window was blown out, toward the balcony. Slivers of colored glass rained down on the trio as they instantly scattered down the stairs toward the Grand Hall. Here, they could look up at the stained glass window and see flames shooting and darting, completely obliterating the artwork of the angel with the tablet.

“Minerva!” Neil yelled. “Can you stop the fire?”

Harley rattled Neil by the arm. “Tell her you love her, you blockhead!”

Neil complied with hands raised to the ceiling. “I love you, Minerva! I love you eternally, forever and a day! Please stop the fire!”

“Ivy, go get help,” Harley instructed. “We need a bucket brigade.”

As Ivy dashed out the door, Neil continued his entreaty. “Minerva! I, Neil Tempest, declare my undying love for you!”

“Put more emotion into it,” Harley advised as the flames began consuming the beamed ceiling.

Neil turned on him. “How much more emotion do you want? ‘I love you’ isn’t good enough?”

Harley took a turn at it. “Minerva Shortridge! Neil has locked up Rodney so he cannot hurt anyone anymore! So you see, he truly does love you! He has made it impossible for Rodney to ever come between you again!”

The flames did seem to back down a bit then, revealing the artwork of the mortal still unscathed. Encouraged, Harley shouted, “Neil needs your help to arrest whoever killed you. You have to give us some more clues. Help us out! Who is the fellow wearing the derby hat?”

Suddenly Minerva’s voice was so loud it occupied the entire ceiling, and it was impossible to discern where it emanated from. It was as though she had ten speaking trumpets and shrieked into all of them at once. Harley and Neil didn’t know where to look, as the voice seemed to come from all four corners of the vaulted room. “Neil Tempest! A herd of bison will change the course of the Laramie River! Like the waters of the Red Sea, the river will stand up like giant walls and allow the bison to cross.”

Harley and Neil exchanged quizzical glances. “This sounds like witchcraft,” Neil uttered.

Harley shoved him aside. His lack of belief would ruin this entire enterprise. “Minerva, we believe you!” Harley shouted. “Where will this occur on the Laramie River, and when?”

“At Neil’s ranch,” she answered before a great swell of flame shot out from the stained glass and torched the chandelier, blackening it.

“We’d better get the hell out of here,” Neil advised. “We don’t have any water, and this is not going to get any better.”

“Yes,” Harley agreed. “With your luck, we’ll be accused of starting the fire anyway.”

As they rounded the corner of the Elks Club, they bypassed a contingent of those members hauling buckets of water at full chisel. As head of security, Neil wanted to assist them, but Harley convinced him the Elks would just wax suspicious if they discovered they were there when the fire started, and they’d just have a lot of funny explaining to do, especially when it came to the part where a spirit had warned them about the impending fire.

So they headed for the Union Pacific office instead, but Ivy waylaid them and suggested they duck inside the Bucket of Blood saloon. The place was nearly empty, as most of the able-bodied Hell on Wheels men were putting out the fire. The saloonkeeper Ace Moyer served them personally, although Neil said Ace was usually too busy to spend much time at the Bucket.

“He’s buying up all kinds of land around here,” said Neil, sipping his coffee. “Just yesterday he asked me again if I wanted to sell any of my land.”

“So you have a ranch,” said Ivy. Tonight she wasn’t drinking forty rod. She had asked for some Mexican agave liquor that was nearly as potent, though. “I presume you have a ranch foreman, too?”

Neil put on his bragging face. “Yep, I’ve got four hundred acres up toward the Snowy Range. I call it the Serendipity Ranch, just because it was such luck that I bought it. No one wanted it, see, because it’s so windswept and gets a lot of snow. Why, the—”