[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Menage a Trois Paranormal Romantic Suspense, shape-shifters, M/F/M, HEA]
America has its first shape-shifter president. But Orlando Sleekheart is missing his breed partner. When Colt turns up after a two-year undercover operation, he brings a woman with him. Vanna was part of the motorcycle club planning to assassinate Orlando, but she fell in love with Colt. Now, she has to decide whose side she’s on.
Colt wants a forever woman, a breedmate for himself and Orlando. But Orlando won’t have anything to do with Vanna as a breedmate and wife. Can Colt marry Vanna and leave his breed partner out of the equation?
As president, Orlando has a lot of other things to think about. But the steamy nights he shares with Colt and Vanna make everything better, and Orlando wants her so badly he can hardly think straight. When the assassins return, he has to decide if he trusts her enough to let her into his heart.
Note: This book contains double penetration.
A Siren Erotic Romance
President Sleekheart (MFM)
6 Ratings (4.2)
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Cover Art by Les Byerley
An excellent storyline with strong believable characters
I have enjoyed this series and I hope to see more. I was a good read.
Karlyn Plett




“Okay, here it is.” Mike leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “It’s on. Everything is in place. Those of you who’ve been helping know what I mean. Sorry, but I’ve only been letting people in as I need them, but now I need all of you.” This was big, and by the look on Mike’s face, it was dangerous.

Mike gave a yellow-toothed grin. “After Monday we’ll be heroes, every last one of us. We’re taking down the piece of shit President-elect.”

Tension gripped Colt. He could hardly move. They planned what? With the kind of security surrounding the PEOTUS right now?

As Mike outlined his plan, tension changed to horror.

“I’m takin’ a small team, you guys in here, that’s all. Two on the bleachers one side, two on the other. Two in the sky. We’ve got a couple of media helicopter pilots bribed. All we have to do is kill the reporters and climb in.”

The area above became a no-fly zone, patrolled by the Air Force, and the secret service was everywhere, listening to people, but pre-approved guests and media? It could work. Colt had never concerned himself with the details of the inauguration, assuming he wouldn’t be there. He did now.

Mike turned his head and spat, hitting the pan in the corner with remarkable accuracy and a clang that echoed around the silent room. “We are gonna be the men to beat. After we do this, our position will be right at the top. Because sure, although nobody will know, everybody who counts will. Nobody will tell us no. We can have the deals we want, the women we want, every fucking thing. Kings of the world, that’s what we’ll be.”

“The security at this event is insane.” Colt was still coming to terms with this. He’d infiltrated the group to break its protection and drug rackets, not to foil an assassination attempt. What was Mike thinking?

Mike winked. “We have the best. And we’re not hijacking one helicopter. We have a backup. We got two targets. Two people per hijack, kill everybody but the pilot, and we’re good.”

Good wasn’t the word Colt would have applied to it. He wanted to loosen his collar, except he was wearing a soft T-shirt. Only his own muscles caused the tightening in his throat. He sipped his beer, letting the cold liquid trickle down.

“We have tickets for the show of the year. We’re going to watch it, then we’ll do as we’re told by the authorities. Be good little citizens. Up to a point.” Mike gave another of those evil grins. “They’re going to be busy, though. You take your orders from me, nobody else.” He nodded to his other henchmen. “Shotgun, Bullethead, and Clay, you’re on the bleachers too, but on the other side. Right close to the podium.” He gave that bone-chilling grin again. “Won’t that be nice?” He leaned back, tipping back his chin. “Be ready to leave tomorrow. I’ll see you’re all issued with what you need. No talking, even between yourselves outside this room.”

Shotgun and Bullethead were both crack shots. Not quite as good as Colt was, but he’d take either on his side in a fight. Mike had doubled them up. Why would he bunch his best shots together, when the rest of his plan was so carefully set out? Everything was meticulously sorted, so why the doubling? Surely Shotgun and Bullethead would be better with separate seats, so they backed one another.

Mike had taken a simple concept, and worked it into something beautiful. Mike had spent a fortune on fake papers, driving licenses and passports, but also provided dog-eared envelopes, bank statements, ATM receipts and the like, stuff people carried around when they didn’t clear out their pockets. If they were searched, everything looked peachy.

Meantime, they were to hijack a helicopter. Colt would be equipped with a high-powered sniper rifle. Colt was to take the shot, with Shotgun and Bullethead as backups. If he missed, they wouldn’t.

Colt listened with numb shock. They wanted him to kill the President-Elect, as he was taking the oath. They didn’t want him to become President, didn’t want him on the list of people who served. They wanted the Bible splattered with blood.

Something didn’t feel right. While Colt set a cool expression on his face, calmly drinking another beer, he put his mind to going over the plan, visualizing it in his mind in three dimensions, working out the angles.

If only he could use his telepathy and at least skim the minds of the people in here.

While the room might look rough, the table the only elaborate thing in it, that was deceiving. Mike had sophisticated equipment installed, even sonar-based telepathy blockers, which, annoyingly, worked. Most didn’t, but luck or money had bought this system. Which was another reason why Colt shouldn’t use his telepathy. If anyone detected it, they’d know that only somebody in this room was using it.

Fuck, he’d have to risk it. He had no choice. Whatever was itching at the back of his mind needed answering. His instincts were never wrong.

Colt spread his senses, cautiously letting down his barriers. He did no more than skim before he slammed them back up. He set his jaw. If he hadn’t done that, he’d have cursed and probably lunged across the table at Mike.

The leader of the Sons of Empire was playing a deep game.

He was lying. In a flash, Colt had seen the plan in Mike’s mind, the twist that would make this thing work. Numb with shock, he gave himself a minute to absorb what he’d read in Mike’s mind. That was why he’d left it so late to tell them. He didn’t want anybody to have time to think.

Colt let the others ask questions, while he worked it through. He should have guessed. He, Colt, was a distraction to the real action. No doubt Mike would let the others know later.

Mike planned to put a bomb on the helicopter Colt was to take. With his helicopter a ball of fire dropping like a stone on to the crowds beneath, Shotgun and Bullethead would do the job. Take the President-elect out, and get out of there. There’d be utter confusion while the mother of all distractions was happening.

Shit, this was a fuckfest, and Colt would be the center of it. 




There it was, as clear as day. She read it in his eyes, saw it in his face, the tense lines of need bracketing his mouth.

She saw it another way, too. She looked down.

His cock was hard, straining, the tip red and leaking precum. She wanted that fluid, hungered for it. Without thinking, she swept her forefinger over it, only dimly registering his sharp intake of breath.

She sucked it in and tasted him. His flavor flooded her mouth, filling her empty spaces, adding a new vocabulary to her repertoire. Gazing at his cock, she only knew how much she wanted it. Wanted him.

Meeting his eyes sent a shock of recognition through her. Orlando stared at her starkly, no disguising of his need for her. She pulled her finger out of her mouth. “I want you too.”

Slowly, Orlando reached for her. Vanna went to him, moving forward until she lost her balance and fell forward. He felt so fucking good, his body hard against hers, his muscles bracketing her softness. For the first time in weeks, she felt safe. “I won’t let you fall,” he murmured. “I swear it.”

Lowering his head, he took her mouth. He gave her no quarter, plunging his tongue into her, opening her lips with lascivious need. She clung to him as he lowered her, so she lay back on the bed. His cock pressed against her belly, hot and wet. Although she squirmed, she couldn’t get him to slip between her legs and as desperation grew, so did her arousal.

He kissed her as if they had all night, as if kissing was all he wanted to do. And man, did he know how to kiss! He tasted rich, of male need. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, loving his caresses.

Fingers touched her arm. Colt, stroking her as if she was a cat. Her pussy was so wet, she couldn’t get any ease. It felt empty.

Orlando drew away, murmuring her name. “Vanna, you are gorgeous. I’ve been watching you all week, wanting you.” He nipped her throat, worked his way down to the little hollow at the base, where he paused, teasing her with the tip of his tongue, before moving further down. Vanna turned her head and met Colt’s eyes, not knowing what she’d find there.

His taut mouth opened, and he swiped his tongue over his lips as if they were dry. His gaze ate her up, burning, and when he slipped into her mind, he seared her with want. Gasping, she could do nothing but accept him. With Colt warming her, encouraging her, she let both men in.

“This was her fantasy,” Colt murmured. “She wants two men.”

Orlando smiled down at her. “Then she’d better have what she wants, then.”

He kissed the slopes of her breasts, savoring every taste until he reached her nipples. He paused to tease, licking her skin and making her moan. “So pretty,” he said, before taking a deeper taste and sucking her deep.

When he stroked her skin, it acted as a precursor for his lips and tongue. “Soft,” he said.

Thrills rippled through Vanna. When she flung her hand out, Colt caught it, stroking her palm. Everything was happening at half speed, as if the world was whizzing by outside, but in here everything slowed to a crawl. Except for her body, which was rioting, Mardi Gras all over the place.

Orlando slid his hand down to her navel, tickled, then further down to her pussy. Slowly, he inserted his finger into her cleft, grazing over her clit and further down to her aching hole. So wet, he said, internally because he couldn’t do it any other way. He had a mouthful of nipple. He sucked, caressing with his tongue, bringing her nipple up to a sharp point of need.

By now, she was whimpering. “I need this. Orlando, please.”

He lifted his head, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes. “Please? What do you want me to do, honey?”

“Fuck me,” she moaned.

Beside her, Colt echoed her. “This is killing me. Watching you enjoying her. Fuck her, Orlando.”

“Oh no, I have more to do first. I’m not halfway there yet.” Watching her, he pushed a finger deep inside her.

Vanna exhaled in a sharp gasp, squirming in an effort to get close to him, to make him move. He glided over her inner passage, stroking her, learning which parts of her reacted the strongest.

So hot, baby.

Colt’s eyes gleamed with passion. Bending to her, he sealed their mouths together as Orlando explored her pussy, which he did with thoroughness. Keeping his thumb on her clit, he moved three fingers inside her. Vanna shuddered.

Colt’s tongue stroked her lips as Orlando brought his mouth to her cunt. Her reponsive jerk made Colt end the kiss, but only to stare down at his breed partner as he licked her. “Delicious, isn’t she?”

The best I’ve ever tasted.

Orlando’s words reverberated over Vanna, shortening her breath. Colt cupped her breasts, pushing them up into straining peaks. He bent to her, licking around the nipples Orlando had recently savored. All Vanna could do was moan as sensations coursed through her, driving her to a new place.

Orlando licked and sucked, the wet sounds of his claiming loud in the quiet room. They added to her sense of being possessed, owned by these men. Vanna, who had fought for independence all her life, reveled in it. Willingly she gave herself up to Orlando and Colt, let them do whatever they wanted, as long as they indulged her every sense.

A long tongue curled inside her, scooping up and claiming every drop of her juices.

Her body tensed, and she headed for the edge of the precipice, prepared to hurl herself over the edge.

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