[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Interracial Paranormal Cowboy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, werewolves, light Consensual BDSM, HEA]
Ten years ago, Carson and Sam Quarry’s father died in a freak accident. Carson doesn’t believe it was any accident and makes it no secret that he believes their pack alpha, Remy Bastien, killed their father.
When Carson commits the most heinous offense a shifter can commit against another shifter, it gives Remy just the opening he needs to get Carson and Sam’s mother right where he’s always wanted her—mated to him.
The family makes it their business to keep a low profile at The Double R. This is an easy enough task before Desiree Jensen, a conservative city slicker with painful secrets of her own, lands at the ranch, too.
Despite her quiet and sheltered existence, Desiree is a lot stronger than she seems. Is she strong enough, however, to survive the fatal charms of two wolf shifters from her wildest dreams, especially when one is marked for death?
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among the men.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Gigi Moore is a Siren-exclusive author.
The first thing she noticed when she tilted back her head and took a deep breath was the full moon dominating the indigo sky. She shuddered. She wasn’t sure if she reacted to the wolves in her dream, the two night wranglers, or the cool evening breeze that stirred her hair and the curtains behind her. After almost a year in Colorado, she’d learned that even in the summer, evenings could be downright arctic. She needed the cold, however, to shove her firmly back to reality and away from dangerous fanciful thoughts of hot, sexy cowboys turning into dangerous, feral wolves.
“Des, are you okay?”
No. “Of course I’m okay.” She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before lowering her head and opening her eyes to see the two shirtless men emerging from the surrounding woods. She caught herself grinning at the way they playfully shoved each other and roughhoused as they otherwise soundlessly traversed the well-lit grounds toward one of the ranch’s many family houses.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen the two young men traipsing the ranch grounds. It was, however, the first time she’d seen them so close on the heels of waking from one of her wolf dreams when the memories and her arousal remained so fresh.
Desiree’s heart sped at the view of their partial nakedness, the drops of water glimmering on their tanned skin beneath the moonlight causing more moisture to gather in the already-drenched crotch of her panties.
God, she couldn’t get away from them! First the dreams, now the very virile cowboys, walking and breathing in the flesh.
Flesh that’s bound to catch pneumonia!
How could they be out in this cold, obviously having taken a midnight dip, and not be freezing to death?
As the men neared the main house, just crossing beneath her window, Desiree noticed the younger one frown and sniff the air right before he glanced up to catch her looking at him from the veranda.
Desiree jerked back, hiding behind the jamb like a giddy schoolgirl who had been caught staring at her crush.
“Something wrong?” Maia approached the veranda, and Desiree caught her by the arm and pulled her back behind her. “What?”
“The wolves?” Maia teased.
Yes! “No. You know who.”
“Let me see.” Maia pulled out of her sister’s grasp to go out onto the veranda and lean over the stone balustrade. When she waved and addressed the cowboys, Desiree gasped. “Hey, boys. Nice night, huh?”
“Sure is, ma’am.”
Just hearing the man’s deep drawl raised goose bumps on her skin. Or maybe it was the cold. Yeah, that was it, the cold. “Why do you have to be so incorrigible?” Desiree hissed.
“A little chilly out, though,” Maia said, ignoring her sister.
“Reckon we’re getting used to it.”
Still the younger brother speaking, she could tell. As tight-lipped as they both were, the older one was the least talkative—the strong, silent type, if she paid attention to that sort of thing, and she definitely wasn’t, no way.
Despite the reckon, Desiree detected the Cajun accent buried beneath the drawl, a decidedly lazy and romantic quality. Not that she remained a dialect expert or anything, but she had a good memory, a sensitive ear, and she’d heard similar accents when she’d visited Louisiana for Mardi Gras during spring break almost a decade ago.
Was he intentionally concealing his natural accent, or was his current accent a result of being in Colorado around so many cowboys for a time? Desiree wondered. She didn’t know how, but she’d always suspected the wranglers weren’t native to Colorado, even before discovering that they had come to the ranch not much before she and her sister and mother had. There remained something decidedly not…local about them. With their rarely heard accents and dark coloring, they seemed more exotic than the native Coloradans.
Her suspicions had been confirmed once she’d begun hanging around the cookhouse and made the acquaintance of Helena, The Double R’s head chef, several months into her stay.
Desiree wondered about where they had come from and why they’d all left. Had they just needed a change of scenery and fresh start like her, Maia, and their mother? Or had their reasons been more life-and-death?
Curiosity getting to her, Desiree peeked from behind the jamb just in time to see the younger brother, Sam, touch the brim of his Stetson.
“You have a good evening, ma’am. Don’t catch cold.”
“You do the same. And I told you before, you can call me Maia.”
Desiree noticed the way Sam’s tongue caressed her sister’s name and wondered how her name would sound on that very same tongue. She also noticed that during the entire exchange, the older brother, Carson, didn’t even look their way, just kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, his chin proudly tilted up and his steps purposeful.
What was his problem? Did he think himself too good to talk to the Yankee interlopers? Not that Desiree wanted his attention or cared about is moods or apparent rejection one way or the other. She didn’t. She just remained curious why he seemed so cantankerous and unsociable when his brother seemed the total opposite, always had a friendly—some like Maia would call it flirtatious—and ready smile for everyone.
Desiree watched as her sister wiggled her fingers at Sam when the two men finally disappeared from view. “Sheesh, I can’t take you anywhere.”
Maia stepped back into the bedroom with Desiree and closed the French windows. “Just being friendly. You should try it sometime. We’ve been here long enough.”
Desiree closed her eyes as Sam put his hands on her hip, comforted at the idea that his wrists were bound and he only had as much control as the binds gave him.
Carson wasn’t bound, however. No, he stood before her, tall, forceful, strong, and ready to do things to her that she’d only dreamed about, she was sure. She wanted him to do those things. She didn’t want to be a cocktease, but she remained afraid.
…let us give you pleasure.
What woman didn’t want to hear that in her lifetime? What woman could deny two men like Carson and Sam?
Sam bent his head to nibble her earlobe. “My mouth is pretty skilled and eager, but I could do a lot better job pleasing you if you untie me. Please, Desi.”
She didn’t really want to say no, especially when he said her name with that sultry, butter-melting Cajun accent. She knew how much discipline it had taken him to keep from touching her, even with his wrists tied, and she respected that he’d let her bind him in the first place. He could have easily said no.
But he wants to please you. They want to please you. Let them.
Sam left a trail of nips and kisses from the back of her ear to her collarbone, sliding one strap of her bra down her shoulder and following the path to her elbow with his agile tongue.
“I can’t think when you do that.”
“You’re not supposed to think, bébé.”
“Just feel, cher.” Carson stepped closer, sandwiching her between himself and his brother as he bent his head to work on her opposite side, sliding down the other strap of her bra before undoing the latch in the front with one hand.
Desiree felt helpless, didn’t know what to do with her hands until Carson slid the bra down her arms and off to discard it. She turned to fulfill Sam’s request, reaching for his hands as he patiently waited for her to unknot the shirt wrapped around his wrists.
Carson busied himself kissing the back of her neck and cupping and fondling her breasts.
She refused to lose her concentration and finished the job on Sam’s wrists before arching her neck and resting her head back on Carson’s shoulder as he tweaked and rolled her hard, sensitive nipples. Waves of pleasure trembled down to her center and dispersed.
Sam went to his knees in front of her, undoing the button on her jeans. When he unzipped the zipper, the sound was like an explosion in the otherwise silent room. He tugged her jeans and panties down together, and Desiree accommodated him by stepping out of them and her socks.
Sam wrapped his arms around her hips, buried his face in her pussy and took a deep breath before he pulled back just slightly to slide in first one then another finger. He stretched her and stimulated her nerves, prepping her for what remained to come.
Desiree closed her eyes and gyrated her hips as Sam finger-fucked her before Carson braced his hands on her hips to still her.
“Not so fast, cher. Let him do the work.”
It took everything in her to let Sam do the work without moving, but she managed to relax and let herself get into the sensations of being sweetly penetrated and caressed.
Sam pumped his fingers, alternately scissoring and stroking inside her as Desiree closed her eyes, moaned, and grasped each of Carson’s thighs behind her. The flex of muscles felt so good against her palms she bit into her bottom lip to keep from screaming.
Sam had added his mouth to the play, sucking and tonguing her clit as he thrust his fingers in and out of her in a slow, torturous rhythm.
Carson guided her hips to the beat, allowing her to move back and forth between them as he pressed his hard shaft against her ass.