[Siren Menage Everlasting: Erotic Romance, Paranormal, Menage a Trois, Shape-shifters, MFM, HEA]
In Purr-fect for Her, Kylie Honeyton witnessed a cold-blooded killing. The victim? No one she knows. The killer? Her boyfriend Frank, hit man for a crime organization. With Frank on her heels, she has no choice but to run.
Weretigers Heath and Braden Asher met Kylie at a bachelorette party six months earlier, but failed to find out her last name or where she lived. Their mistake haunts them until she suddenly appears on the road leading to the small shifter town of Twisted, Texas.
Kylie’s starting to like living in Twisted, even if the residents seem a bit odd. Yet when Heath and Braden reveal their secret, she’s not sure whether to scream or scratch them behind their ears.
In Growl for Her, reporter Kristal Mosley is hunting a story that will catapult her career into the Big Time. When a strange man gives her a video of a white tiger changing into a man, she figures the man’s crazy. Still, a white tiger roaming the plains of Texas? How cool is that?
When the sexy Kristal shows up in Twisted, weretiger brothers David and Darion Conroy get an immediate connection with their intended mate. After showing them the tiger video, they recognize one of their weretiger mates and know she’s headed for trouble.
Keeping the headstrong reporter safe is tough when she won’t listen to reason. They do their best to convince her to forget the story by using every human and beast skill they have. But sex, even wild sex, can only do so much.
Kristal soon learns that the real story is skin deep. But is the truth too much to handle? Will she expose the Conroy men?
Jane Jamison is a Siren-exclusive author.
Purr-fect for Her
She pushed through the door—when did it get so heavy?—and out into the hall.
She felt herself falling a moment after the toe of her high heel caught on the chipped tile floor.
Funny how the floor seemed so close, yet she never hit it.
Instead, she stopped in midair, suspended for a moment. In the next second, she was quickly and thoroughly placed squarely on her feet again. Or, at least, as squarely as her muddled mind would allow.
Ooh, this feels nice.
Her body pressed against a firm surface. And yet, although it was firm, it wasn’t hard. Not like a floor or a wall would be. Instead, whatever she was leaning against felt very warm and very comfortable. And damn if it didn’t smell really good, too.
Good in a very masculine, very rugged way.
This is so not Asshole.
“Are you all right?”
Ooh, he sounds nice, too.
Deep and smooth, like the expensive scotch her father used to drink. She tilted her head and followed the sound of the voice.
His face matched his voice. Strong, virile, and filled with testosterone. His dark hair, although a little short for her taste, framed the perfect face with wide-set soulful brown eyes, a nose with just enough crookedness to make it interesting, and full lips. Unthinking, she brushed the back of her fingers along the stubble running along his jaw, then sighed.
Oh, damn. Did I just sigh?
His mouth curved up at the sides, giving her an answer.
Pull yourself together.
She put her palms against his chest, and even through the denim shirt, she could feel his chest muscles. He was hard-packed like snow on a well-driven street. Wide shoulders tempted her to let her hands keep sliding upward, and with her resistance at an all-time low point, she did.
He feels even better than he smells.
But it wasn’t only about how he felt. It was the sensation coursing through her. Like she’d put her finger into a wall socket and gotten shocked good and hard. And yet, instead of a quick zap, the feeling kept traveling into her, down her body, radiating outward into her limbs until the tingling rippled along her fingertips. She was suddenly more alive than she’d ever been in her entire life. Yet, although her body was invigorated, her mind clouded over in an entirely different way that had nothing to do with alcohol. All rational thought evaded her as a rush of pure passion pushed everything else away.
Whoever this man was, she needed him. She craved him in a basic, instinctual surge of yearning that could never be put into words. He’d shaken her to her core, infusing her with a raw sexual power. At once, she wanted to fuck him and eat him alive.
She inhaled deeper, letting the richness flow through her, and tried to regain a little composure. It was an impossible task, and as his hands moved, traveling along her body until they cupped the roundness of her plentiful ass, she gave up trying to fight it. The front of his jeans pushed against her stomach, and she wondered if it was his belt buckle pressing hard into her stomach. Hopefully, the pressure came from a lower place, one not as unyielding yet just as firm.
She lifted her chin, her gaze catching his and holding it. All he had to do was bend just a smidge and everything she could ever want would be given to her.
To her delight, he did and, when his lips pressed against hers, she wanted to shout “hallelujah” to the heavens. At first, his kiss was hesitant, gentle, but in no way timid. Instead, she sensed he was teasing her, tempting her. His mouth was firm, yet pliable. His hands gripping her ass molded against her cheeks. She parted her lips enough to be clear about her invitation and waited for him to RSVP.
Once again, he didn’t let her down. He intensified his kiss, and her knees started to give out. He kept her from falling once more, holding her upright. He pulled her as close as possible, putting their bodies together like two pieces of a shattered plate magically coming back together.
His tongue slipped inside her mouth, giving her a delicious swipe of the taste of him. But he pulled it back too soon. She started to complain and groaned, but her groan soon turned to a pleased moan when he nibbled on her lower lip, sucking it in between his teeth. Her palms pressed against his hard chest, and she yearned to pull his shirt apart and discover the real feel of his flesh under her fingertips.
She didn’t have any shyness about sliding her hands back over the wonderful chest. Once at the top of the mountain, she slipped one hand down the middle of his shirt, headed down the slope toward the silver buckle of his belt.
A beautifully simple letter T adorned the buckle. She wanted to skim her fingers over the raised letter, feel its cool counterpoint to the warmth of him, then work her way down until she found his hottest spot of all.
His thigh found its way between her legs as he brought his hands around. One flattened against her back, urging her to push even harder against him. The other hand moved to her front, forming a protective cover over one breast. His thumb rubbed against her nipple, and she arched, telling him how much she liked his touch. Hoping he’d think her breast was large enough.
An image of her underneath him, his massive body hovering over hers, swept over her. He’d take her, sending her on a wild ride. He’d be her Dreamy Rider.
But how had he suddenly gotten four hands?
“Tigers shifters, especially male ones, can be rough when having sex. Maybe too rough for most women.”
She would’ve sworn her heart skipped a beat. Frank had liked sex rough. Too rough. As much as she wanted to have sex with Heath and Braden, she had to wonder if she could handle it.
“And with two shifters, it’ll be even rougher.” Braden took hold of her T-shirt. “Like this.” Barely moving his arm, he tore the shirt from her.
She gasped as the material slid across her body and was gone. “That was…startling. But not anything to be afraid of.”
“No. It’s not.” Heath bent over her.
She inhaled, jerking away when he snagged her bra in his teeth and ripped the thin undergarment from her. Even if they weren’t scaring her, they were thrilling her. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.
“Or this.” Braden tugged off her shoes and tossed them away. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he took hold of the top of her jeans.
He can’t tear it. It’s too strong. Too—
And yet, in the next moment, her jeans were gone, torn from her body as easily as he’d torn her shirt from her.
“Well, hell,” she whispered.
“You say that a lot.” Heath wiggled his fingers then hooked her panties and rid her of them, too.
“I do?” She’d never noticed. “It’s still not rough enough to make me not want you.” Never mind how hard she was breathing. Never mind the bit of fear snaking its way back into her.
Braden’s hungry gaze set off a four-alarm fire in the pit of her stomach. Holy hell.
“But once we get turned on and get going, we won’t want to stop.”
“Even if I tell you to stop? Even if I demand that you stop?” She had a difficult time getting Frank to stop. Had, in fact, refused outright to have sex with him after the last time when he’d wanted to slap her ass with a thick paddle. And yet, the idea of Heath and Braden spanking her gave her the opposite reaction. She yearned for it.
Since meeting the Asher men, she realized just how wrong she’d been about Frank. She’d talked herself into liking Frank. Had, in fact, mistaken her need for affection for real love.
Because I trust them.
She hadn’t realized it before. At least not consciously, but now she did. She’d never trusted Frank enough to let him take complete control. But she did trust Heath and Braden. Enough to give in. Enough to let them take responsibility away from her. Enough to love them.
“We’ll stop, but it’ll kill us.”
“And we’ll have to get away from you as fast as we can.” Heath caressed her breast, fondling it and rubbing his thumb over her hard-growing nipple. “Our tigers won’t take it well.”
Should she be worried? And yet, still, she wasn’t.
“Don’t worry, Kylie. We’ll do what you want. We’re just saying it’ll be hard on us. But do what you feel is good for you.”
She smiled at Heath then reached for Braden. “I’m not afraid and I trust you. Now, are you two going to get busy or am I going to die from old age first?”
She barely had time to squeal when Heath picked her up, carried her across the room, and slammed her back against the wall.
They hadn’t been kidding when they’d said they were rough.
Amber flecks dotted his eyes, and a wickedly sexy smile curved his lips. “Baby, you’re going to have a whole lot of sex before you die of old age. We tigers get even hornier in our senior years.”
Oh, shit. In a good way. Oh, shit.
She tried to wrap her legs around him, but he shoved them away. Instead, keeping his grip under her arms, he pushed her, sliding her up the wall.
What the hell?
She sucked in a breath as he continued to push her, sliding his hands lower until he gripped her butt cheeks. Her pussy was dead level with his face. One glance down had her pussy weeping for his tongue.
Heath’s smile grew then was lost as he positioned her legs on top of his shoulders and buried his face between her legs. She let out a scream then slapped her hand over her mouth. Waking Davey at that moment would be a disaster.
Oh, hell, yeah.
She couldn’t squirm. Not in the position he held her in. But that didn’t keep the storm from pummeling upward from her pussy.
The man had a tongue on him that wouldn’t quit. He’d pushed her folds apart with his face and set to torturing her clit. Fast then slow, then fast again went his tongue. Around her folds, then slashing over her clit only to leave her dangling over the precipice as he pierced her sheath. His tongue was strong and long and knew exactly the right spot to hit.
She clutched her breasts, wanting his hands on her, and held on. She hung above him, several feet off the floor, and let him feast on her. Like a woman-eating beast, he devoured her.
Damn, but he’s good.
He’d added teeth to his arsenal of assault, nibbling at her folds, then teasing her clit with a bite. She cried out again, softer, then sought out Braden.
He stood a few feet away, his cock in his hand, his gaze hard on what his brother was doing to her. “Braden,” she whispered.
Would they take her one at a time? Or, better yet, together?
Growl for Her
Kristal Mosley cringed at the monitor. She’d never liked watching herself on television, but it came with the job. As a news reporter-slash-on-air personality for a small cable television station in Dallas, Texas, she was often in front of the camera doing short news pieces while the “desk jockey” celebrities smiled and read from a teleprompter. Not that she wanted to simply report the news, but if she had to do another “fluff” piece, she was going to hurl.
“Stop it.” Reggie was her best friend and assistant to the head of operations. At times, she thought he knew her better than she knew herself. He took one look at her and understood what she was thinking. “You look terrific.”
“I guess you’d know,” she joked. “Who better than a gay guy to say who looks good?” It was an old joke, poking at the stereotype of homosexual men and fashion.
Reggie flicked a hand at her, waving her off. “Don’t you know it, bee-atch,” he countered, using a high pitch voice. Reggie played along with the game, but he was not effeminate at all. He was built like a brick wall with a beard and a mass of unruly hair. His favorite outfit was an old pair of sweats and a torn University of Alabama T-shirt. He would’ve worn his stained outfit to work if he thought their boss, Harold Gisk, wouldn’t have gone ballistic.
The filmed piece they were previewing was of her standing in front of a historic building in Ft. Worth. The big news story? Whether the city should fund the money to plant new bushes. Yeah, like it would cost more to dig a few holes for shrubs than it did to pay for the police chief’s new squad car. So much for the hard-hitting reporting she’d dreamed of doing when she’d graduated with a degree in journalism from the University of Texas.
As usual, Reggie picked up on her thoughts. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there. You’re still paying your dues. I bet Old Harold will give you the next big story.”
“I hope so.” It didn’t matter if he was right. She should’ve gotten further in her career after three years at the station. Although she’d managed to remain patient, covering stories of kittens being rescued from storm drains and the scores from the local kids’ baseball tournaments were wearing her down.
“How about getting together for a drink later?”
If anyone could cheer her up, it was Reggie. “Sure, but you’re buying this time.”
“Then I’m picking the place.”
“Urgh, Reg. Please don’t make it another sports bar, okay? I don’t think I can handle all the shouting. I mean, come on, it’s only a game.”
He pretended to be horrified. “Only a game? It’s a religion.”
“Don’t give me that. It’s baseball season. Even I know football’s king in Texas.”
“Well, at least you’re learning something.”
“I am, but not tonight. No sports bar.”
“Okay. No problem.” He swiveled his chair toward the monitor. “So is this ready to air?”
Not if she had a say. Unfortunately, she didn’t. There was only so much pizazz she could add to make the story interesting. “Yeah, it’s ready.” She picked up her tablet and slid her palm along Reggie’s arm. “Check you later.”
She headed down the hall to her tiny office. Maybe it was time to make a change. She’d had a couple of online news sites contact her, offering her the chance to be her own boss and choose her assignments, but going freelance was a tough way to make a living. Even if the stories she covered were boring, a regular paycheck was a necessity.
The large man behind her was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, presenting an image of normality, but he had an air about him that was anything but normal. He was so tense he made the word tense seem inaccurate.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She glanced behind him, thinking he had to be with someone to have gotten into the office area of the station.
“I’ve got a story for you.” He spoke in a harsh whisper and glanced over his shoulder.
You, my mother, and a ton of friends. All of them with stories that were either mind-numbingly boring or had been done to death by countless other reporters around the country. She launched into her practiced speech. “I see. And I’d love to talk to you about it, but the station has guidelines. The usual channel for submitting news stories is—”
“No, no. I want you to have it.”
Shit. I’ve got a crazy one.
“What’s your name?” She’d need it for the restraining order.
“Why give the story to me, Mr.…?”
The wild gleam in his eye didn’t make her feel any better. Would security hear her if she screamed? Or were they talking and hanging out in the lounge like they did almost every day?
He didn’t fall for her trick to get him to tell her his last name. “You did the story on the white tigers at the zoo last year.”
Great. He’s a fan. “I did.” She forced a pleasant smile, but was ready to run as soon as he took another step toward her.
He took a quick look around. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but it’s true. Still, you’ve got to believe me.”
She hated it when someone said she had to believe them. Usually that meant they were either lying or delusional. “I’ll do my best.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I saw a man change into a white tiger.”
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner! Crazy is as crazy talks. Still, at least he’s sane enough to know he sounds off his rocker.
She tried not to dismiss him too quickly. After all, why make him angry? “You’re saying a man turned into a tiger. Like a man changing into a wolf? Like in the movies?”
He pointed at her, accusing her. “You don’t believe me. I can see it in your eyes. But it happened. I saw him.”
Time to get the hell out of here.
Kristal didn’t have time to breathe much less to argue. Darion’s mouth crushed against hers. Like a flame set to dry kindling, fire leapt to life inside her. She wanted him. God, how she wanted him.
Clutching him by the hair, she pulled him harder against her. His hands flattened against the wall as he pressed his body against hers. Every part of her wanted him as close as she could get him. Every ounce of her passion screamed for her to open her legs. She moaned, answering his nibbles with her own.
Fever, quick and hot, whipped into her. Her hands traveled along his neck, over his wide shoulders then on to seek his shirt buttons. Her hands trembled too much to work the buttons through the holes. Instead, she grabbed hold and yanked his shirt apart.
His moan filled her throat as he tugged her T-shirt over her head and flung it aside. Next went her bra, torn from her.
“Goddamn.” Darion eased back, took one hungry look at her breasts, then took a nipple in his mouth. His fingers tortured the other one.
“Fuckin’ A.” David yanked Darion’s shoulder, twisting him around. He came behind her, putting her between them again.
She was trapped, all right. Caught between them not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. All rational thought was gone, swept away by a primal yearning she couldn’t name and would never refuse.
Darion worked her jeans free while David lifted her enough for his brother to tug off her running shoes and yank her jeans off. He put her down again then kept going until he knelt behind her. Using his teeth, he ripped her lacy undies off.
She could barely make out what Darion had said, but she grasped his meaning. How could she not when she wanted it as much as he did?
David bit at her butt cheeks, kneading his fingers into her fleshy ass. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”
She tensed, but only until the cool gel slid between her cheeks and around her tight hole. Vaguely, she wondered why he carried lube, but the unsettling thought was gone soon enough.
Darion took her under the arms and lifted her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist. His swollen cock struck her mons before slipping lower.
She whimpered, annoyed that he might be teasing her. “Fuck me.” She spoke to both men.
Darion grabbed a hunk of her hair and jerked her head back. Her gaze met his.
His eyes have amber in them again. Why?
Again, she couldn’t hold onto the thought. Her sex-craving body wouldn’t stand for it.
“You’re ours, girl. You know it and we know it. Hell, the whole damn town knows it.”
“Say it, baby.” David stood up, leaning backward to press his cock against her tight hole.
She listened to her heart and not her head. “Yes. Yes, I’m yours.” Even if only for a short time.
They plunged their cocks into her, catching her breath in her throat. Pain blistered her, but was soon gone as the throbbing sensation holding them close spun around their bodies. She clung to Darion, aching to do the same with David.
Ramming against her, they crushed her between them at the same time. Doing the only thing she could, she held on and let them do as they wanted. Harder and harder they thrust against her. Deeper they went with each move. They filled her completely as the juices flowed out of her.
She was theirs. As much as it didn’t make sense, she’d never known anything that was truer. Her puffs of air exploded with each slam of their bodies against hers. Darion’s hands cupped her breasts. His teeth, so sharp, skimmed along her shoulder. David’s teeth, just as sharp as his brother’s, stabbed at the skin of her other shoulder. His fingernails dug into her butt cheeks.
Anyone could’ve walked by and seen them. She wasn’t sure many hadn’t already. But she didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them talk. Having these two men was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. One she wouldn’t have given up even if a crowd had gathered around them.
The way Darion said her name sent more juices flowing. She wanted to scream their names, but had no breath to do so. Like a rollercoaster soaring at the peak of the rails, all she could was hold on and whimper her delight.