Dark Dream of You (MFMM)
[Siren Menage Amour: Erotic Consensual BDSM Menage a Quatre Sci-Fi Romance, M/F/M/M, HEA]
Emory Gray has a chance to save an ancient race from extinction, only it means embracing the very thing she fights so hard to control—her inability to stay awake and out of the dream world she’s come to hate. Now, she must face her deepest fears and the three men who plan to share her - mind, body, and soul.
Balin, Kamden, and Phynn of House Krighton know without a doubt Emory is theirs, the woman who is meant to bind their enclave together, bring dreaming back to their men, and save their race by assuming her role as their queen. They just need to convince her she belongs here, with their people, and in their bed. And if that means keeping her pleasured by their skillful hands and their sexual play to prove their point, then it’s a duty they are happy to fulfill.
Note: This book contains double and triple penetration.
A Siren Erotic Romance
She watched the thick, white clouds slowly move over the Earth, shifting the shadows over the oceans and continents below, the depth of the colors fascinating her.
“It is a beautiful view, is it not?” a deep, masculine voice stated softly from behind her.
Startled, Emory whirled around, the sheet slipping from her hands and pooling in a puddle at her feet, her naked form bathed in the blue-greens and tan-browns of the Earth.
A large hand grabbed her upper arm, steadying her as she teetered. Her breath caught as tendrils of energy spread outward from where he firmly held her. The fiery tingles made its way up her arm and into her torso, piercing her nipples before heading down her body to gather like molten lava between her thighs. Her pussy tightened with acute sexual awareness.
She slowly looked up and met his eyes. Familiar sapphire eyes watched her with an intensity she’d never seen before, making her slit ache and her breasts feel full and heavy. Even the cool air of the chamber washing over her, did nothing to help the heat creeping over her skin as her breathing quickened.
“I love this dream,” she whispered to herself, relaxing into his grip, wondering where he would touch her first.
His expression changed immediately, looking perplexed, awed, and bemused at all once. “You dream, myla?”
She tilted her head, confused by his choice of words. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, knowing it didn’t matter if she understood. Her subconscious had a way of throwing everything, including the literal kitchen sink, into her dreams. And she swore it did it just to keep her on her toes.
“Uhm, of course, I dream. What do you think you are, mister?”
The corner of his lip turned upward as his fingers flexed on her arm, the pads purposely caressing her skin. “I am not a dream.”
She laughed out loud. “Wow. Of all the things you’ve done and said to me in the past, this takes the cake.” She snorted. “Not a dream. Hah! If only—”
His grip tightened on her, sending a wave of arousal so strong it prevented her from finishing her thought. He stepped closer to her, the heat of his large, powerful body enveloping her. His eyes darkened as he asked in a thick, hoarse voice, “You dream of me?”
There was something in his tone that made her feel he would be crushed if she said no. This was new. He was the same, but this was different somehow. It was…
The thought eluded her as he leaned toward her. His expression was unreadable except for the heat burning in his familiar eyes.
“Yes,” she replied softly, watching his face for a reaction.
His chiseled, handsome features relaxed ever so slightly, his eyes brightening and something she couldn’t name.
“Good. I was correct then.”
“And what about me?”
He just smiled at her, a knowing twinkle shimmering in his eyes.
And despite her growing frustration at his elusiveness, her heart fluttered and her breath quickened. She glanced at his lips, full and firm and so close she could kiss him if she stood on her tippy-toes. Instead, she pushed her reaction and sexual need aside, the need to have him explain resurfacing. “Well, spit it out,” she ordered. “Get on with it. This dream will not last forever.”
His smile grew wider, amusement sliding over his roguish features. “Emory Gray, aren’t you full of spirit. I’m rather going to enjoy taming your passion.” He reached out and lightly cupped her cheek with his other hand. “And earning your submission.”
Emory rallied against his touch and words even as a wave of intense arousal washed through her. She stepped back, pulling away from his hand at her cheek. She began yanking back her arm, trying to break free from his grasp. He held her steady, seeming unaffected by her struggles.
A glimmer of awareness slid through the back of her mind. She stopped struggling as it began to blossom. She stilled. “This. Is. Different,” she stated emphatically, studying him closely, trying to figure him out.
He leaned down toward her. “Would you like to know why, myla?”
“Why?” she bit back harshly, not hiding her frustration.
“Because this is not a dream. I am not a dream.” He stepped closer, the heat from his hard masculine body, a Viking warrior’s body, washing over her. “This is very real, and you are on my ship in orbit around Earth.”
His words washed over her, and she instantly knew they were true. She knew what reality felt like. It was different, more harsh, more sharp than the other world she spent a good portion of her energy fighting against. But she’d never considered this—him—was ever possible.
This couldn’t be real. Could it?
She scrunched her face up at him. “You’re joking?”
“I can promise you, myla. I would never jest about this. In fact, I rarely joke at all.”
Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment as she became acutely aware she was standing in front of him stark naked. She stiffened and quickly glanced down at the white, silk fabric lying around her feet in a pool. Her cheeks began to burn, and she wished for nothing more than to have the power to will the thin sheet up from the floor and around her body.
His hand slid down her arm, caressing her skin intimately and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Effortlessly, he lowered himself down to squat in front of her, his eyes remaining locked with hers. A small whimper squeaked from her throat, her breath quickening as her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation.
“Em,” he called to her.
“Huh?” she gasped, arching her back as she fought to stay grounded, fought to hold onto any sensation that would make her come.
“Keep your gown in one hand. Use the other to rub yourself.”
“What!” She snapped her head up and locked eyes with Phynn.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned darkly.
With his finger rimming her entryway, her pussy clenched on emptiness. The need to come overshadowed any self-doubt or embarrassment. She clumsily gathered as much fabric as she could in one hand as the other trailed down her body. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. In front of you,” she whispered as her fingers touched her clit.
Phynn gave her what she needed, pressing his finger deep inside her.
“God, that feels good,” she admitted without thinking, her own fingers moving over her clit, adding to the pleasure of him inside her.
“Good,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction and a hint of amusement. “I want you to make yourself come. I want to learn what feels good to you.”
“And how…are you…going…to…do that,” she breathed. Ripples of pleasure rolled through her as he swirled and twisted his finger deep inside her.
“I’ll know everything that arouses you, that builds the tension, that makes your pussy clench down. I’ll feel everything you do…in here,” he explained, moving his finger slowly out before thrusting it back in to her.
“Phynn!” she cried out, arching her back and clenching on his finger deep inside her. “Oh! God!” Her fingers began moving on their own accord, circling her clit and rubbing hard, needing to increase the pleasure within her own body. Their only goal was to get her to come.
Feeling the instant feedback of what was pleasurable, what was too much, what drove her higher, she moved her fingers around, building the tension, her inner muscles fluttering over him. She looked down and found him watching her fingers, studying her movements.
The pressure built, bringing her higher, pushing her to the edge. Just as she reached it, her fingers slowed and she clamped down on him. The sensation made her gasp, her body beginning to tingle with the warnings of orgasm. Phynn’s eyes flashed with light, and she knew he knew she was about to come.
“Emory! Phynn!” a loud masculine voice shouted.
She froze, but Phynn remained relaxed, his finger deep inside her. “Over here!” he shouted casually, calling the man looking for them.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked harshly, wanting to push him away but paralyzed with the need to come.
Balin walked around the corner and came into view. Her cheeks flooded with embarrassment as she pushed against Phynn’s head. “Stop. Oh, God. Stop.”
“Don’t move,” Phynn ordered, moving his shoulder out from underneath her leg as he pushed his finger deeper. He quickly stood, grabbing one of her hands and pinning it above her head. Pressing her against the column with his body, he began thrusting his finger into her.
She cried out, her free hand pushing weakly against him as the fight within her began to die. As he took control of her body, the need for more overtook her embarrassment. Phynn covered his mouth over her neck and began to lick her skin. Heat swirled around her pelvis, weaving itself into a tight ball of pure, raw, erotic pleasure.
“Easy, myla,” Balin whispered near her ear as he grabbed her other wrist. Pinning it above her head, he cupped her cheek with his other hand and turned her to face him. “Easy. Let us pleasure you.” His mouth found hers, kissing her seductively as his fingers parted her fold and began stroking her clit.
Emory cried into his mouth. The feeling of both of their hands and mouths on her was almost too much for her bear. And yet, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
Phynn and Balin tore their mouths away from her. Pulling back, they waited. When she finally realized they had stopped, she opened her eyes and found them staring at her.
“Don’t make a sound,” Phynn ordered darkly. “Not even if Balin is covering your mouth with his. One tiny peep and I’ll see you stay at the edge with no relief for the rest of the week.”
Her pussy clenched on his finger, and he knowingly smiled at her.
“Okay,” she squeaked. “Not a sound. I promise.” She glanced at Balin, not quite believing he was here.
Balin lowered his head and brushed his lips over them. “Good girl,” he whispered, his fingers moving skillfully over her clit again.
She bit her lip, forcing down the whimper wanting to break free. With no place for the energy to escape, it turned inward and traveled down to her pussy, joining the swirling storm of pleasure tightening around Phynn’s finger. And as she fought to keep down another whimper, Phynn began to move, skillfully thrusting into her and matching Balin’s rhythmic strokes.