[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Paranormal Cowboy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, shape-shifters, public exhibition, HEA]
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.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Jane Jamison is a Siren-exclusive author.
4 STARS: "Weretigers Heath and Braden’s mate has found her way to Twisted, Texas only she’s on the run and frightened for her life…wait until she finds out just why the residents seem a bit odd in this captivating paranormal romance. Kylie had no choice but to run when she witnessed a cold blooded murder at the hands of her boyfriend and the reader can’t help but get caught up in the romance as fate leads her right to her mates. The attraction between Braden, Heath and Kylie heats up the pages and the sex scenes are hot and spicy including m/f/m scenes but the relationship is far from easy when they all have secrets they are trying to keep. The characters are strong, captivating and demand attention and invite readers to return to the charming town of Twisted, Texas while the fast paced and smooth flowing plot keeps readers shivering in anticipation with suspense, excitement and passion. Tensions and expectations build as Kylie’s path crosses with the residents of Twisted and brings her into contact with the two sexy men that she met for a few brief moments’ months before and excitement builds as danger arrives and places Kylie and the men’s son, Davey in danger. The scenes are well written with vivid details that capture the imagination and bring the story to life while the suspense draws readers in and refuses to let go. Another great series by Jane Jamison, one with an interesting town full of intriguing and sexy characters and I can’t wait to read the next one." -- Evampire, Night Owl Erotica
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?