[Menage Amour: Menage a Quatre Paranormal Romantic Suspense Science Fiction Romance, MFMM, with BDSM elements, spanking, HEA]
With regret clawing at emotions and twisting dreams, Petrus Donati set out to retrieve the potential mate he’d mistakenly abandoned. Getting kicked in the nuts was his biggest fear but finds this the least of his worries. Soon, he’s dodging pitfalls he would have never imagined—competition for her heart. Jealous and seriously pissed, this warrior learns that killing an enemy is not always the answer.
Stuck in jail and beyond angry, Ireland Paoletti grasps at the first lifeline thrown her way, whether she likes it or not. Determined to clear her family name, this little spitfire doesn’t give a Kentucky hoot about multiple men trying to win her heart. All she wants is vengeance on whoever thought they could get away with ruining her life.
Book 12 in the Fueled by Lust Series continues to draw you into the life of the loveable, sinfully sexy, and powerful Insedi warriors as they scramble to find true love among chaos. Fasten your seatbelt!
“Yes, I’m definitely alone,” she whispered back.
“Good. I couldn’t stay away a moment longer.”
Petrus’s low, sensually accented words snatched her senses and urged a soft sigh of appreciation. How can such a simple line sound so damn sexy? Good grief, Italian men are freaking dangerous. She could only stare in wonder at the delicious bounty that had arrived at the exact time he’d promised. Who can’t love a punctual man?
Intense golden eyes fringed with thick lashes the color of his long ebony hair flicked to her right and scanned the living room. Tempting masculine lips lifted at the edge, possibly from spotting strategically placed candles scattered about. She grimaced and hoped it didn’t appear too desperate or planned. Thanks to her pale skin’s refusal to tan, she’d caved to the artificial light-play in hopes of appearing anywhere close to Petrus’s natural golden hue. Her lips twisted. If slightly pink from a sunburn would come into fashion, I’d have it made. His attention returned, snapping her from the growing angst of imperfection.
“The hours passed by too slowly, sweetness. I begged the sun to fall from the sky so that I could come to you.”
God, he’s going to be the death of me. Whew! Swallowing hard, Ireland’s languid gaze swept over the tall, muscular frame taking up most of the apartment doorway. The massive upper body scrumptiously filling a maroon T-shirt reflecting his appreciation of the band Highly Suspect tempted her even further. She wanted to rip the faded material down the front and toss it aside. Dark jeans embracing well-built thighs left her panting in anticipation to see them gone, gone, gone. Get a grip, woman!
Stepping back a few paces and signaling he could enter, she tried desperately to retain the sultry, come-hither expression she’d practiced in the bathroom mirror for the last half-hour. Failure was imminent. She wasn’t used to acting the seductress. Tomboy was more like it, but playfully punching him on the arm wouldn’t meet her objective.
“Thank you, my bellula.”
He called me beautiful again. Just kill me now. Ireland gave up trying to quell the cheek-grabbing grin as her “too good-looking to be real” man pushed his way inside. Kicking the door shut with the heel of a big boot and hip-swaggering steady approach sent a throbbing pulse of need saturating her groin. She bumped into the foyer wall, rattled a few picture frames, thus proving she was nowhere in control. Palms pressed next to her shoulders, he leaned down, slowly and with focused intent. She sucked in a breath as his long braid slipped over a broad shoulder and swayed teasingly against her chest. Its length always left her envious.
“How much time do we have?” he rumbled.
“Two hours if they eat afterward,” she managed to respond.
“Let’s pray they’re hungry,” he practically growled.
Ireland threw out a fervent wish that her roommate’s date picked a six-course meal and decided to take a long stroll along the river—maybe even get stuck in the horrendous Austin traffic. She had no shame. This rare one-on-one time with the sweetest, most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on was long overdue. She trembled in anticipation as he reached over, released her carefully placed hair clip, and brought the long, chestnut locks up to his perfect Grecian nose. His nostrils flared, obviously inhaling the scent of her new shampoo.
“Umm. Raspberry. Tantalizing,” he said softly.
“Silly man. It’s—” He moved in, dominating her space even more. Words catching in her throat morphed into a low moan, acknowledging the warm tongue sweeping across the shell of her ear. Chills skittered along her flesh. “It’s…apple-cinnamon” burst from her mouth, followed by a shuddering of breath.
“No, my bellula,” he said huskily. “I speak of your underlying, true aroma. Powerfully intriguing.”
Broad hands slid down her ribs, snagged a belt loop on the jeans, and pulled her closer. She released a rush of air.
“It calls to me and ignites my blood,” he continued. “You must know this.”
His aggression thrilled her. About damn time screamed through her wobbly thoughts. Slipping a hand around a narrow hip, Ireland palmed his beyond-fantastic ass and squeezed. Grasping a length of braid with the other, she wrapped it around her wrist and gave it a yank to bring his gorgeous face back into view.
He shivered, a low groan pushing between perfect white teeth. Head lolling back, the man of her dreams appeared to be enjoying the bite to his scalp and her fingers now dragging lazily across his strong back.
She released him, hands clamping onto large muscles capping broad shoulders as insistent palms slid up her waist—bringing the peach-colored T-shirt along for the ride. It slipped easily over her head.
Golden orbs snapped open, drilling her with the same mesmerizing beauty that had drawn her the second they’d met. Soulmate had slammed into her thoughts in that defining moment, leaving her rattled and fumbling to give him her drink order. “Perfection,” she mumbled.
His gaze slowly lowered to her heaving chest. With an easy twist of his long fingers the front clasp on her bra snapped apart. He palmed the mounds begging for his touch.
Holding her up with nothing more than the strength of his hips and an arm slung under her ass, he pulled her close to this chest, whispering into her ear, “Do you feel it, Ireland?”
She locked her ankles, clenched her thighs against his narrow waist, and buried her head against a thick neck, struggling all the while to regain her breath. “How in the hell could I not? You’re so fucking big. I feel you everywhere.”
He kissed her temple. “That pleases me, but I speak of the heart pounding within my chest. Do you feel it?”
“Yes, it’s thundering.”
“Good. It speaks of my love for you. Never believe otherwise.”
She knew the timing sucked, but she said it anyway. “How do you define love? You barely know me.”
He chuckled and squeezed her left butt cheek. “You think I equate the nonsense of my dick with love? Far from it. That’s just the perk. You’ll learn soon enough that I speak the truth. I’ve paid attention to every little move you’ve made. I see how you treat others. It’s in your eyes.”
“There’s no guile. I’ve spent years looking into a multitude of pretty colored eyes attempting to draw me in…to use me. There’s no deceit within yours. And most importantly, not once have you tried to play me against Petrus. He hurt you, yet you set aside your anger and understood.”
His hips rolled, exciting her passage and sending trembles through her limbs. He lowered his voice to a rumbling timbre.
“You have so much power against us, yet your true personality stays intact. I have no qualms about giving you my heart and sharing yours with my friend. After all, you were meant to be ours.” He paused, moaning against her hair. “You feel so good, Ireland. I was barely able to hold my seed moments ago. I want to stay inside you forever. Entangled fate led us both to you. I willingly embrace this gift from the gods.”
“Petrus doesn’t seem to want what you do,” she warned.
“I know, but we’ll not give up until he finds the strength inside to face the truth. Then we’ll have our Petrus back. I’m sure of it.”
“And if not, then you’ll end your friendship.” He nipped her shoulder, sending chills skittering along her neck.
“You heard us speaking.”
She closed her eyes, head lolling back as he ground against her clit. “Yes. It helped me to understand.” His fingers dug into her hips, drawing her attention.
“Uh-oh. Petrus woke. He’s in my head feeling everything between us and calling me very bad names.”
“Should we stop?”
“No. It would speak to a guilt that should never be in place between us. That’s why I left my thoughts open to him. I’ve asked him to join us, yet he fears that he’ll try to crack my skull and ruin this for you.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Pacing the room and trying to block my thoughts, yet he can’t bring himself to part from the sensation of me moving inside of you.”
“He can feel us?”
“Yes, vividly. Squeeze my dick with that tight pussy.” He grinned and nipped her chin.”
“Very good, baby. He felt that one, too. It lifted my balls.” On a shaky groan, he clasped her tightly to his chest. “Oh, sweetness. This is going to go fast between us now I fear.”
She stiffened. “Why? Is he coming in here?”
“No, he’s taken himself in hand. His pleasure joins mine. He can’t bear the thought of us together but won’t let me enjoy it alone. Umm, he’s much the fool to think this is punishment. The dual sensation is teasing my sac. Goddamn, that’s wicked. Fuck.” He sucked in a breath. “I can’t even imagine.”
“What?” she whispered.
“He blocked me last night, or I would’ve surely blown my load all over his shoulder.”
“She giggled. Damn, you kill me. Yeah, that would’ve pissed him off.”
“Shit,” he hissed. “For the love of Dii! Now I know why I’ve never seen an unhappy triad. Gods, that feels good.” He kissed her chin and then caught his bottom lip with his teeth.
Good grief, how can you possibly get any sexier? She fought the driving insanity to just knock him down and ride him like some crazed mad woman.
“Hold on, I’m going to take you hard,” he whispered hoarsely. His breathing ratcheted up. “Put your hands my shoulders,” he said between quick pants.
Their eyes locked.
“Don’t look away, sweetness. Promise?”
“This is going to blow my fucking mind as well as his. He has to understand. Keep me focused. Ready?”
She nodded and kissed his forehead. “Do it.”
He clamped onto both hips and repeatedly bounced her on his shaft. He was solid and rapid-fire punching her G-spot. He’d gotten her so wet, he had no trouble finding every erogenous zone with his masterful performance. She clawed at his back, quickly finding herself on the razor’s edge.
“Hold it,” ground out of his throat. “Hold it. Keep it. Not yet. Not yet, baby. It only intensifies if you will it back. Oh, so close. He’s close.”
The muscles beneath her fingers tightened into bands of steel. His head smashed against the marble, teeth clenching as he pounded into her.
The wet, sucking sound of their frantic joining, his heavy groans, and fight to keep darkening eyes open simply enthralled her. An imagined image of Petrus reclining in the chair and jacking his cock ignited a wanton, twisting response. An explosion of fire burst through her groin, signaling a rapidly approaching climax destined to blow the top of her head off.
“There he goes,” he shouted. “Fuck!” His neck tightened. “Riding it…riding it…riding it. For the love of Dii, it’s too—” His jaw went slack.
Ireland gripped his devastatingly handsome face, leaned forward, and caught the unicorn—that priceless moment between a launched orgasm and a load of seed rocketing up a man’s shaft like a missile. Time stood still as she stared into azure eyes glazing over with the rawest form of ecstasy imaginable. He was gone. Checked out. Spiraling through the primordial ooze of creation as she bounced on his fat cock and sought her own release, desperate to join him.