[Siren Menage Everlasting: Erotic Romance, Paranormal, BDSM, Menage a Trois, Werewolves, Spanking, Fisting, Flogging, Whipping, Sex Toys, MFM, HEA]
In Two Wolves and a Candy Seller, when human Damask Lambert starts work in the candy store at Werewolf Castle, wolves Grigori Tasev and Jairus Petrov decide she’s the woman for them. But she’s only there for the summer, and Jairus is constantly away from the castle on business for his Alpha. Finding time to get to know each other isn’t easy.
Apart from the whole she’s human, they’re werewolf shape-shifters thing, is the fact that they’re both Doms in the BDSM scene. Their first night in the dungeon is a success, but what will happen next?
Damask’s parents have kept her very sheltered and protected. How will she deal with the concept of a ménage, and what will happen at the end of the summer? Can they find a way to have her stay with them, and keep Jairus at home long enough for them to build a life together?
In Two Wolves and a Builder's Daughter, werewolf shape-shifters Brody Dietrich and Roman Meyer “borrow” a gigantic yellow tractor-scraper to stop the SUV following their Alpha. Leonie Baum’s father owns the vehicle, and she is not happy. But the board of directors say a woman’s place is not in construction, so Leonie’s career has come to a grinding halt anyway—just like the construction vehicle.
With the death of the Supreme Alpha of Europe, the werewolf packs are vying to take control. Roman and Brody just want to go home to Werewolf Castle in the mountains, but their Alpha loans them to the Alpha of Vienna. At least this means they have time to get to know Leonie a little better despite their dramatic first meeting. They invite her on a hot air balloon flight, which they all enjoy, but their erotic sessions stop dead when they arrive for their first day of work and learn who their supervisor will be.
Cara Adams is a Siren-exclusive author.
Two Wolves and a Candy Seller
They reached the stairs down to the public dungeon. Grigori flipped the light off then picked up the waiting torch from its holder, striking a long match against the wall just as the tourist guides did, before lighting the pitch and letting the smoky haze permeate the top of the stairwell. “Let’s go. Hold the handrail, Damask. The stairs are very old and uneven.”
“The handrail’s cold for such a warm day.” She rubbed her palm on the seat of her jeans before taking hold of it again, placing her feet carefully on the steps.
“The solid stone here stays cool on even the warmest days, but sometimes the guides play tricks as well, rubbing ice on the handrail or leaving puddles of cold water on the steps and in the dungeon to make it look scarier,” said Jairus.
Damask couldn’t wait to see just how scary it really was. When Jairus pulled a huge old iron key out of his backpack to unlock the door she sighed with happiness. She didn’t care if it was really just pretend for the tourists, it certainly looked ancient and evil.
Grigori took a step into the dungeon, beckoning her to follow him. He walked around with the torch burning smokily in the cooler atmosphere, shining its weak light on the iron maiden, and a rack. “Be very careful not to trip on the chains and eyebolts. Anyone who angered the werewolves was chained to these walls and their spirits still haunt this area,” Grigori said, his voice deep and urgent.
“Have you been memorizing the tourist brochures?” she teased. But the iron maiden did look very scary. “What’s that?” she asked pointing to a triangle-shaped box a bit like a gymnastics vaulting horse.
“It’s called the Spanish donkey. Those who anger the werewolves are forced to sit on it, weights tied to their feet. Gradually their body is forced down and down onto the sharp pointed wood until their bodies are split in half and they die screaming,” said Jairus in a ghoulish voice.
“Right. And you remember this happening in the past?” she asked.
“Many, many times.”
“Uh-huh. Please may I have the torch now so I can look around properly? I really would like to see everything, without the joke commentary.”
Grigori handed the torch to Jairus and left the dungeon. Damask was surprised but stood still, waiting for him to come back. She was reasonably sure she wouldn’t truly fall over anything, but not quite sure enough to put it to the test. Then the electric light turned on and the room was revealed with its genuine stone walls and floor and old-looking equipment. First she walked across to the chains and weighed them in her hands. They were very heavy, worn and rusted in places. Okay, they might be genuine.
The rack, the donkey, and a metal scepter-looking thing also seemed genuinely old to her. But the metal spikes in the iron maiden didn’t seem at all worn or chipped as they should have been.
“The iron maiden is not genuine,” she said, turning to stare at the men.
“Twice over,” said Jairus.
“Good deduction,” added Grigori.
“It’s a copy of a fake from a museum in Germany. Having said that though, the original fake is about seventeenth century I think, just not Middle Ages. The bench and the rack and even the Spanish donkey might only be seventeenth or eighteenth century as well, but the lead sprinkler is old, and so are the chains and bolts,” said Jairus.
Damask wandered around again, entranced by the ancient implements of torture and wondering if the old werewolf leaders really did persecute people. She supposed they probably had. Back then a person’s life had little value. People died of hunger every winter and even telling the leader bad news was grounds for execution. Refusing to obey an order was usually solved immediately by the leader chopping off the head of a rude person. After all, every ruler carried a sword all the time back then, and even peasants always carried a dagger.
She was much happier living in these days. Life could still be harsh and brutal but by and large people were able to live a long and happy life. The sound of the key being turned in the door made her look up, startled out of her reverie.
Grigori and Jairus came and stood right in front of her.
“How much would you like to play a few dungeon games?”
Grigori placed his hand on the wheel of the rack. “Shall I tighten this one more turn?”
Damask thought. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. Would one more turn make it hurt too much? What if she dislocated a shoulder or a knee and needed to go to the doctor? How would she explain that? Yet was she giving up too soon? The hot water had been very hot, but not long lasting. Perhaps she should try one more turn to see if it was more pleasure than pain.
“Just one turn.”
Grigori turned the handle very slowly. Much slower than he’d done previously. And she knew then he never would have asked her if it would have been too painful for her. He would never deliberately hurt her more than in a manner she would find exciting and sexy. She could trust both these men completely.
Her body was definitely pulled more tightly, stretched harder. The pressure was on her more and it was a slight, aching feeling. One she knew might not be fun if she was left like this for a long time. But right now it was pain but not bad. More intriguing, interesting than anything else. And she’d learned a valuable lesson to know she should trust Grigori and Jairus.
Icy cold drops of water spattered her face and chest, then dripped down on her belly, her legs, all the way to her toes and back up to her face again. Damask gasped at the extreme cold then laughed. “Don’t tell me. You had another insulated mug in your backpack only this one held ice water.”
“Exactly so, my sweet.” Jairus bent and touched his lips to hers. “In the BDSM dungeon contrasts are a way of inducing pleasure. The sub comes to accept and expect the heat, and then suddenly it’s cold instead.”
Damask nodded. She could see that. A person would be expecting the heat and be ready for it. Cold would catch them unprepared and be doubly effective.
Grigori started to turn the wheel loosening the tension on her body, and Jairus untied the ropes holding her. Both men sat her up and while Grigori massaged her shoulders, Jairus kneeled and exercised her knees. She hadn’t been spanked but it had been a very interesting lesson nonetheless.
Jairus spread her legs wide apart and stood between them. Gently he pulled her close to him, tipped her head back and kissed her. This wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss like the night before, but one of passion, lust and longing. His tongue flicked along the seam of her mouth demanding entry and she opened and let him inside. Jairus licked the insides of her cheek, behind her teeth, along the roof of her mouth. His tongue was everywhere, possessing her, demanding more and more from her.
Breathlessly, she pressed her aching nipples against his chest, rubbing her breasts over his warm skin as she kissed him back with everything within her. His hands massaged her back and unhooked her bra. Obediently, she moved one arm so the strap slid off her and then Jairus bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Then he pressed it against the roof of his mouth and she almost orgasmed on the spot. Holy shit that’s erotic.
Grigori sat beside her on the solid wooden edge of the rack and Jairus lifted her, turning her, shifting her onto Grigori’s knee. She put a leg on either side of the muscular man and snuggled into his arms, lifting her face for his kiss. Her body was so aroused from Jairus’s kisses she had to concentrate to remember that now it was Grigori’s turn.
He pressed kisses to her forehead, her nose, her eyelids. Tiny, light touches of his lips to her skin. She was enjoying it so much, she almost didn’t realize his hands were busy inside her panties until one finger teased her anus and another stroked her slit. Damask’s eyes widened. She was so aroused already from the kissing, she wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
Then his finger slid deep inside her and she knew it was a good thing. A very good thing. Her inner pussy muscles gripped his finger and she moaned.
Grigori’s lips descended over hers and his tongue began fucking her in a determined, measured way. The finger inside her kept pace with his tongue. At her back, gentle hands were stroking her skin, hands that moved around her body and were teasing her nipples.
Damask had to break the kiss to breathe, and when she did she leaned her head back on Jairus giving him more room to tease her aching breasts.
Grigori had two fingers in her cunt now, finger fucking her deep and fast as his other hand lightly teased around her ass, and his thumb stroked her clit.
“Come now, Damask,” ordered Jairus.
“Obey your two Doms,” added Grigori, thrusting a finger deep in her ass.
Damask’s body crashed into an orgasm, her pussy coating Grigori’s hands with her cream as she shook and quivered between the two men. Jairus’s hands cupped her breasts, still gently stroking her skin, his mouth pressing a row of kisses along her shoulder.
“Tomorrow we’ll find a bed and fuck you properly. You’re ours, Damask. You belong to both of us, now,” said Jairus.
Two Wolves and a Builder's Daughter
Brody Dietrich stared down at the joystick and pushed it forward. If only this was an Xbox or a PlayStation he was sure he could do far better than he was managing right now. Nevertheless the huge construction vehicle was going in the direction he wanted it to, which was some kind of bonus, he supposed. As long as he timed it just right.
Roman Meyer was sure the black SUV was chasing after their Alpha and it had to be stopped. Roman was riding a motorcycle following both the Alpha and the SUV, giving Brody a running commentary via an earbud plugged into his cell phone, of where they were and where he, Brody, needed to be when the SUV reached him. He’d have only nanoseconds to push it off the road and into the ditch and it wasn’t like the huge yellow tractor scraper would be maneuverable enough to chase after the SUV and have a second attempt if he fucked up the first one.
Sweat was pouring down his back, making his one and only dress shirt stick to his hired suit coat. That was another thing. He was damn well going to have to pay a cleaning fee for the fucking suit as well as try to find bail money when he ended up in jail for doing this.
Brody inched the tractor scraper closer to the edge of the road. He didn’t want it so close it would alarm the driver of the black SUV but he was very aware of how much slower he’d be traveling compared to the other vehicle. He wiped his sweaty palms on his suit pants. Since he was going to have to pay a cleaning fee and since his shirt was soaked in sweat already and he couldn’t wipe his hands in it, there was no sense in risking his hand slipping on the joystick when his pants were right there to dry his hands on.
“Five cars.” Roman’s voice echoed in his earbud.
Brody placed one hand firmly on the joystick and the other on the steering wheel, one foot resting lightly on the accelerator, the other flat on the brake.
Brody hit the gas a bit harder. The engine was already so noisy it wasn’t exactly a secret this machine was here.
Brody took his foot off the brake and stomped with all his weight on the gas. He pointed the nose of the construction vehicle straight ahead and hoped to hell that he could do what was expected of him. What he had to do. What the Alpha required of him.
The yellow monster lumbered across the packed dirt beside the road. He could see the oncoming flash of black out of the corner of his eye and pumped the gas pedal up then all the way down. Pointing the nose of the vehicle immediately in front of the black SUV, Brody hoped the driver would expect him to stay on the dirt, not drift into the traffic lane.
He was almost too slow. The SUV was flashing past him as he clipped the back fender and pushed it off the road into the dirt. He took his foot off the accelerator but kept the giant yellow truck pressed against the SUV so it couldn’t easily escape from him.
The driver was trying to open his door but the impact of the construction vehicle hitting the SUV must have buckled it as he couldn’t seem to force it open. A buxom blonde woman climbed out of the passenger door, followed by the driver, a man in an expensive-looking suit. Brody just had time to realize the woman was Kersten Pichler, daughter of the dead Supreme Alpha of Europe, when she unleashed a tirade of Austro-Bavarian at him. Although it wasn’t his native language, and neither was German, he understood enough to know his family history was being called into question. He had to suppose that was fair enough since he’d just damaged their car. But hey, he couldn’t think of any other way to prevent them following the Alpha, and the Alpha didn’t want anyone knowing where he lived.
“No one else is following them. I’ll turn around and be there in five,” came Roman’s voice in his earbud. Since this was a divided road, Roman having passed them, would have to go a couple of miles before he came to a legal place to cross to the opposite side of the road and turn back, then cross again to get back to where he was.
Brody wasn’t sure whether or not he should climb down out of the cab of the vehicle. The SUV driver looked like a big strong man. Well, likely he was a wolf, but either way, human or shape-shifter, Brody didn’t plan on having his nose broken or his ribs either. Jail was going to be tough enough to survive without him being injured as well.
But it was Kersten, who apparently tired of screaming at him in Austro-Bavarian, hitched her already far-too-short-for-a-funeral skirt even higher up her thighs and jumped up onto the bottom step of the construction vehicle. Brody just had time to snap the door lock down before she took the other couple of steps bringing her face level with his. She switched to German and continued yelling at him, her mouth only inches from his on the other side of the window. He could hear her perfectly, even over the rumbling engine of the tractor scraper, and he was beginning to think the words he hadn’t understood before must have all been swear words, judging by her language now. What she was saying was basically a long, long string of adjectives. All of which would have gotten him thrown out of class if he’d tried them at the University of Vienna where he and Roman were studying Business.
Another car stopped. Oh shit! Not the police!
Brody swung her up into his arms, then took the few paces necessary so sit her on his motorcycle. Only this time she was facing backward. Roman pressed her down until she was lying with her head on the handlebars.
“Hold on to the grips with both hands so you don’t roll off the bike,” said Roman.
That sounded like good advice to her, although it did put her on a bit of a strange angle.
With four hands on her body undressing her, she was naked from the waist down in nanoseconds, her denim jacket unbuttoned, and her T-shirt pushed up under her armpits so Brody could suck her breasts. One leg was stretched wide to the side then Roman’s cock was sliding into her pussy. Already she was wet and aching for him to fill her. She expected Brody to ask her to suck his cock, and was already planning to scrape her teeth over the sensitive ridge where his cockhead joined his shaft, but instead he moved back to her feet and picked up her other leg, throwing it over her shoulder.
“What?” she asked, trying to concentrate on what was happening.
“We’re going to fuck you together,” said Roman.
Then Brody pushed his cock at the entry to her cunt. Leonie gasped in surprise. Two cocks? The two of them in her cunt together? Was that even possible? They were both big men, well-endowed in the cock department. One of them inside her filled her and stretched her walls wide. Yes, sure she’d fit them both in with one in her cunt and the other in her ass, but both in her cunt at the one time? She wasn’t sure that was achievable.
However, the men seemed convinced it was doable. Brody thrust deeper inside her pussy, and the tissues stretched to let him in. Leonie’s pussy felt full. Well, more than full. Much more than full. But it wasn’t painful. In fact, it was highly erotic. With both of them wiggling their way deeper and deeper inside her she really did feel as if they belonged together, a unit, a threesome.
Then the men began to pump into her. They weren’t thrusting as deep and hard as they usually did, but then her cunt was very crowded. Also, she was lying on a fucking motorcycle, not a bed, and they were on the side of a public road where anyone could see them if they stopped their car to look.
Well, she supposed they wouldn’t see her. Her body was pretty much obscured by the two men leaning over her, and Roman’s back was to the road. But it was his naked back. Oh shit! What if someone was curious as to what was going on over here in the trees and came to look at them?
Brody’s hand began playing with one of her nipples, stretching it, elongating it, rolling it between his fingers, then pinching it. Leonie sighed in pleasure. Her cunt was so very full, yet the cocks were rubbing against her inner tissues in a way that made her crazy with the need to come. One of them was hitting her G-spot with every outstroke as well.
“Oh, that’s so very good,” she gasped. She wished she could touch them, but she was scared she’d fall off the motorcycle if she stopped holding onto the handgrips. Actually, her fingers were so tight on them she wasn’t sure she could open her hands anymore at all.
Roman leaned farther over her body and began to kiss her. As he did his cock was driven deeper inside her and suddenly she knew she had to come right now. Desperately she kissed him back, sucking on his tongue, welcoming his tongue’s exploration of her mouth.
Brody’s hand on her breast became more demanding, holding the globe and teasing the nipple. His cock seemed deeper inside her now, too, as if both of them had forced their way another inch inside her, possibly because of them leaning forward. Her legs were over their shoulders, her ass in the air, only her back resting on the seat of the motorcycle.
Roman lifted his mouth from hers, dropping a gentle kiss on her nose. “Please, I need to come.”
“That’s the plan,” he murmured, then grabbed her hips, and the two men withdrew somewhat from her pussy, then drove in again. One of them nudged her cervix sending a sharp jab of pleasure-pain through her body and she exploded in a climax, biting her lip to stop herself screaming and hoping in a vague, distant part of her brain that she didn’t fall off the bike.