From Bestselling Erotic Romance and Erotica Author Erika Masten
Satyrs: Supernatural Ménage A Quatre An Explicit Erotic Short Story
Deanna knows that Andy Nicholas and his brothers, Cole and Geordi, are sexier than any human men have the right to be. She’s about to find out why. Descendants of the Greek god of wine, the Nicholas boys are satyrs, and they’ve set their sights on Deanna as their maenad, the nymph who will slake their supernatural sexual appetites and bear their sons.
Bonus Material: Includes excerpts from Claimed In Hunger: Master Vampire #2 and Bad Boys’ Submissive: Hot Hard Ménage #2 by Erika Masten.
Warning: This is a work of hardcore erotica containing explicit sexual content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.
Without me noticing, Andy slides over next to me, close enough to breathe against my shoulder and run his fingertip along my arm. I shiver.
“He means our mother.”
“But we were talking about…” I pause and stare at Andy’s chiseled face, his features soft and relaxed as he brushes his lips against my ear. Again, I should tell him to stop, but my mind is elsewhere. “You don’t mean…”
On the opposite side of me, Cole sits up and nuzzles the other shoulder. “Our mother is a remarkable woman, more than enough for both of them, her Nicholas men.”
“I think I’m drunk,” I sigh heavily. “Because I should not be letting you do that, and I’d swear you just tried to tell me your mother…that she…”
“Loves both our father and our uncle,” Andy finishes for me, his fingers toying with the knot in my blouse. I grab at his hand with both of mine when I realize his fingertips are working the knot loose. “Belongs to both of them. Shares herself with both. She was human when she joined to them, but she’s their maenad now, their nymph. Still young and beautiful even decades later. That’s why she doesn’t come into town these days.”
My head is foggy. Not like I’d expect it to be, from all that wine, but still. I’m wresting with disbelief over what I think Andy is telling me when I realize Geordi has spread my legs and is kneeling between them.
The youngest brother traces his fingertips up my bare calves, saying, “We can’t actually say which is our father, but only one could legally marry our mother, so he gets the title, for sake of convenience.”
“Stop. I need to go home. I’m drunk,” I blurt, swallowing hard. My face is burning hot, my breath thick in my chest and throat.
“You’re not,” Andy tells me, kissing my neck, making my throat and chest and nipples tingle and burn. “It’s not that kind of wine. It won’t make you slur your words or stumble. Won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But it will clear away those pesky inhibitions that keep you from admitting what you want.”
“What are you saying?” I breathe, relaxing my hands around Andy’s. He goes back to untying my blouse.
“Do you know what satyrs are, Deanna?” Cole whispers in my other ear. “Male fertility spirits, sons of the Greek god of wine.”
I shake my head no, only vaguely remembering Greek mythology from high school. Images of book illustrations, depicting men with hooves and huge cocks as they played pipes or chased women through forests, drift through my memory. Distressing, enticing images. They mingle with my memory of last night’s dream, like two separate photographs laid over one another to form a single image.
“What do you want, Deanna?” I hear Andy ask, his voice far away even though I’m looking into his bright blue eyes. There is a golden light behind them I have never seen before.
On my other side, Cole nips my earlobe, as his hand wanders up to my breasts, to massage and knead and squeeze. He growls under his breath. “Do you want us to take you, Deanna? Do you want us to strip these clothes off you and push your pretty, naked body down? Will you spread your little pink pussy for us?” Wicked voice, wicked tongue. My cunt throbs in answer.