Her Three Protectors (MFMM)

The Hot Millionaires 3

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 60,406
16 Ratings (4.3)

[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Ménage a Quatre Romance, M/F/M/M, consensual BDSM, sex toys, HEA]

Porcha Ballantine’s husband is dead, and now the killers are out to get her.

On the run and desperate, Porcha turns to an old friend for help. When he dispatches three hunks with attitude to help her, she instinctively trusts them. As Troy Anderson, Adam Cole, and Beck Easton slowly unravel Porcha’s problems, they also tackle the subject of her sexuality and invite her to play with them. After three years of marriage to a man who controlled her every waking moment, she’s more than ready for some fun.

When Porcha is snatched by the bad guys, the action moves to Miami as her protectors do whatever they must to find her. They grapple with drug dealers, diamond smugglers, and the dregs of the underworld, putting their lives on the line for the woman they love. It’s taken them years to find her and they’re damned if they’ll let her go…

A Siren Erotic Romance


Zara Chase is a Siren-exclusive author.

Her Three Protectors (MFMM)
16 Ratings (4.3)

Her Three Protectors (MFMM)

The Hot Millionaires 3

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 60,406
16 Ratings (4.3)
In Wish List
Available formats
Cover Art by Les Byerley
Love the book!
Great story! Excellent BDSM scenes, not as hard core but still arousing! I couldn't put it down!



Troy reached forward, pulled the glasses from her face, and peered through the lenses. As expected, they were clear glass.

“You don’t need these.”

“How did you know?” She scrunched up her lovely features. “I thought they made me look rather secretarial.”

“You’re not a blonde, either,” Troy said, avoiding her question.

“She’s not?” Beck pretended to be distraught, but Troy knew he and Adam would already have reached the same conclusions he had. “I’m devastated.”

“Oh, what the hell!”

The woman reached up, pulled off the wig, removed the cap beneath it, and shook out a flowing curtain of rich chestnut hair. There was a sharp intake of breath from all three men.

“The damned wig itched like hell anyway.”

“I think I’ve gone right off blondes,” Beck declared dramatically. “Chestnut’s the only colour for me now.”

Troy hitched a brow. “Lenses?”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Much as I’d like to agree with you, we’re no better than the people who’re after you. You won’t fool them, either.”

Her head snapped up. “What makes you think I’m being pursued?”

“Oh, little things like the disguise, the fact that you won’t even tell us your name, that you’re scared shitless—”

“And that someone’s over the road watching this block,” Adam added.

“What!” She leapt from her chair. “They’ve found me already. I need to get out of here right now.”

Troy grasped her arm and forced her back into her chair. “No one will get to you while we’re here.”

“Count on it,” Beck added.

“But you can’t be sure of that. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

Troy spoke in a tone of rigid determination. “The same could be said of us.”

“Trust us, angel,” Beck said softly. “At least tell us your name.”

“Didn’t Georgio even tell you that much?”

“Nope.” Adam shook his head. “Which is damned odd.”

She reached for her bag at the side of the chair, extracted a small pot, and lowered her head over it. At first Troy thought she was taking medication. They he realized it was a container for the lenses she was removing from her eyes. When she completed her task and looked up, all three of them audibly gasped. Adam went one stage further and swore. The largest, greenest eyes Troy had ever seen blinked at them as their owner adjusted to the removal of the lenses. A man could possibly drown just looking into those damned emerald-green eyes with flecks of gold ringing the irises. He’d definitely go that extra mile to rid them of the sheer terror reflected in their depths.

Troy exchanged a glance with his partners, their expressions mirroring what was going through his own mind.

They were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Good.” Troy somehow managed to talk in a normal voice, ignoring the raging hard-on that he didn’t have a hope in hell of quelling. He didn’t need to look at his buddies to guess that they’d be similarly afflicted. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Unlike me. “Now, how about your name.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Porcha,” she said.

“Unusual name.” Adam smiled at her. “I like it.”

Yeah, it was an unusual name all right, and Porcha was one beautiful woman. Uniquely so. He’d heard of that name connected to another beautiful woman. Could they be one and the same? He sure as hell hoped not, because if she was they were in deep shit.

“Tell me you’re not Porcha Gonzalez,” Troy pleaded.

Beck shot him a look. “Salvador Gonzalez’s wife?”

“The Mexican drug lord?” Adam looked shocked, and it took a lot to shock Troy’s outfit. They’d seen and done it all, and then some. “Say it ain’t so.”

“I’m afraid so, but I go by my maiden name of Ballantine.”

Porcha held the gaze of each of them in turn. Troy wasn’t sure what she read in their expressions, but it caused her to burst into tears. And Troy was betting she wasn’t the type to cry easily. Troy looked at her, then at his partners, and shrugged.

“We’re here now,” he said aloud, answering their unspoken question.

With a deep sigh, he lifted Porcha from her chair, sat in it himself, and lowered her onto his lap.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said, stroking her shaking back. “We’ll sort something.”

“Not Sal Gonzalez’s wife, we won’t. Not if we wanna keep hold of our important bits and pieces,” Adam warned. “He’s been known to chop a man’s dick off just for looking at his wife the wrong way.”

Troy shrugged, aware now why Georgio hadn’t told them who the client was. None of them would have come willingly if they’d known. They weren’t in the business of protecting drug barons and their families, particularly not vicious bastards like Gonzalez. Georgio, the wily old fox, must have known they’d take one look at Porcha and be unable to walk away.

“Yeah, we’re here,” Adam said tersely in response to Troy’s earlier comment. “Thing is, what are we doing here?”

“We’ll get some answers before we leave,” Troy said. “We owe that much to Georgio, the sneaky bastard.”

“She’s totally out of it,” Beck said softly. “Little wonder if she’s been on the run for days.”

“Especially if it’s Gonzalez,” Adam pointed out. “Even if half of what I’ve heard about him is true, he’ll never let her leave him.”




Troy pushed his chair back, the cue for the other two to stand as well. Porcha stayed where she was, waiting to be told what to do.

“Okay, Porcha, you can stand up.”

Beck attached a long chain to the front of her collar and led her toward the stairs. Troy and Adam walked behind her, still chatting casually as though it was the most normal thing in the world for Beck to lead a scantily clad woman wearing nipple clamps and with a plug up her butt along by a chain. In this household, it probably was. Porcha tried not to feel jealous as she wondered about the women they’d played with before her. All that mattered now was that she was the subject of their attentions, and she was damned if they’d find her wanting. Aware that her problems would be resolved one way or another within the next few days and that she wouldn’t see them again after that, Porcha fully intended to make the most of them whilst she still could.

They climbed the two flights of stairs in silence. When they reached the playroom, Beck opened the door and led her through it. Once inside, he shed what few clothes he was wearing and sat on the edge of the bed.

“On your knees,” he told her curtly.

Porcha knelt in front of him, eyes downcast. Beck obviously got to go first, which was fine by Porcha. She tried to anticipate what he might require of her. Then she recalled that she’d tossed him on his butt that morning. Men like Beck didn’t let things like that go unpunished. She stifled a giggle. Of course his revenge would be dramatic and oversized, just like everything else about him, especially his cock.

“You like to wrestle, sweetheart?”

“If it pleases you.”

He chuckled. “Oh, it does. I aim to pin you down every which way this side of Christmas and fuck you senseless. But first you need to be chastised for what you did this morning.”

“I was wrong, master. I need to be punished.” She lifted her gaze to his face. “Please punish me.”

Porcha was aware of Troy and Adam in the periphery of her vision, both now naked and sitting together on a sofa as they watched Beck in action. Having them as an audience was a thousand times different from the way she had felt with Sal and his business connections. That was humiliating because they were a captive audience, didn’t necessarily want to be there, and certainly couldn’t participate. But they stayed because they didn’t dare to go against Sal’s wishes and probably thought she was a first-class tart for doing what he made her do.

This, on the other hand, was red hot.

“How would you like to be punished?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

Beck tapped her thigh. “I asked you a question. Tell me what you want.”

Porcha licked her lips, her eyes focused on his massive erection. “Your cock deep inside me.”

“Ah-hah.” Beck wagged a finger beneath her nose. “Not yet, babe. We need to let you know who’s the boss here first.”

He attached the chain to a hook on the side of the bed. “On your hands and knees.”

Porcha moved into position, aware that her dress—what little there was of it—had ridden up to completely expose her ass. Troy and Adam would have an up close view, and she cheekily waggled her butt in their direction. Muffled chuckles confirmed that they’d got the message.

“She’s getting out of line again, Beck,” Troy said.

“Yeah, I got that.”

She couldn’t see what Beck was doing but heard more rattling and then felt cuffs being placed round her ankles, also presumably attached to the side of the bed.

“Spread your legs wider,” Beck said in a gruff voice.

Porcha moved them as far apart as the chain attaching the leg restraints would allow. Without warning, it went dark when he fixed a blindfold over her eyes.

“Now you’re completely at my mercy!” She felt his hair brush the side of her face as he leaned in close. “Do you like being chained here with your ass exposed, waiting for my punishment?”

Porcha swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat. “Very much.”

Beck chuckled. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He brought a switch down across her ass, gently the first time. Not expecting it, Porcha flinched, the sting it left behind very slight and not nearly enough to satisfy her raging desire to be whipped. Anticipating the second blow as she heard the switch make a soft whoosh in the air, she relaxed her muscles and rolled with the pain. In combination with the red-hot plug in her butt, it felt wonderfully sensual, and she softly moaned her appreciation.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Porcha.”

“I’m sorry, master.”

She felt something slip into her pussy and disappear. A vibrator, switched to a low speed. Porcha was now in some difficulty. She could imagine how she must look, sluttish clothing, chained hand and foot, blindfolded, and with vibrators back and front—not to mention the nipple clamps that were now giving her merry hell. She was ready to come then and there. In fact she was desperate to do so.

“What do you want now, Porcha?” Beck whispered the question in her ear.

“To be fucked, if that’s what you’d like.”

“Well now, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said teasingly.

She sensed him moving away from her and quelled her disappointment. His hair brushed against her face again, and she realized that he’d slipped beneath her when he forced his rigid cock between her lips.


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