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[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, light consensual BDSM, sex toys, HEA]
Farah McLean is driven from Sanctuary, Montana, by the dispute that has raged for years between her family and the Baldwins, keeping her from the love of her life, Drew Baldwin.
A detective in nearby Billings, she returns home, having been shot in the line of duty, to find Drew is also back in Sanctuary, along with his buddy Isaac Kincaid. When she discovers that Drew left Sanctuary because of his feelings for her, their love for one another can no longer be suppressed.
Drew and Isaac share everything—including Farah—but their relationship can’t go anywhere without destroying their families unless, with time and determination on her side, Farah uses her detection skills to delve into the origins of the dispute.
Will she be successful, and will the stubborn patriarchs of the two clans accept her findings, even if she is…
A Siren Erotic Romance
Zara Chase is a Siren-exclusive author.
A pretty girl walked past Drew Baldwin and Isaac Kincaid, making her availability readily apparent. Both men smiled at her, but didn’t take her up on her invitation.
“This place ain’t what it used to be,” Isaac complained.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Drew sighed. “I leave town for five minutes and the entire place goes to the dogs.”
“Make that five years, buddy.”
“On and off,” Drew conceded. “But I’m back now, and you couldn’t even be trusted to keep this place running along the right lines while I was gone.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”
“Anyway, don’t blame me. I’m just a customer like you.”
“Yeah, and I’ve made things tough for you by coming back. Without me here you only had yourself to please. Now we have to go back to sharing, like we used to, and we can’t find a babe to fit the bill.”
“Don’t be such a quitter. We still get a lot of out-of-town talent coming in, and the night’s young.”
“Let’s just split. I’m not really in the mood.”
“Me neither…hang on, perhaps I am now.” Isaac leaned farther over the railing and eyed up the three girls who’d just walked in. “Oh shit, your sister’s here.”
Drew scowled. “What the fuck—”
Isaac laughed. “I guess that’s what she has in mind.”
“Don’t talk about my sister that way.”
“Easy, man! Aubrey’s with her too, and I rather like the look of the redhead who’s with them.”
Drew, still annoyed about Tatum being there, took a quick look at the woman who appeared to have gotten Isaac’s attention. She was limping and walked real slow, like she’d had a long session on the end of a Japanese flogger. Nice figure, he conceded. She was wearing loose pants, but he could see she had long legs, a nice, tight butt, and slender hips. She must have been about five seven, he thought, but that was all he could tell from this distance. There was something vaguely familiar about her, and he had a feeling he knew her. Tatum and Aubrey obviously did, so he probably did, too.
Something inside Drew changed as he watched the mystery woman. A premonition, a feeling…hell, he didn’t know what it was. All he knew was he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman and, like Isaac, desperately wanted to know who she was.
As though sensing him looking, she glanced up and Drew sucked in a sharp breath. Could it really be? He’d heard she was back, but Tatum had told him she’d been shot. Even so, it must be Farah. Those three ladies had always been tight, and the limp, presumably, had been caused by the shooting. Hell, she could have been killed! Panic surged through Drew, reminding him that some things never changed. He hadn’t spoken to her yet, but already she was messing with his mind like only she knew how.
What the hell was Farah doing here? If her brothers found out, there would be hell to pay, and like always, the Baldwins would get the blame. Tatum would be accused of bringing a wounded McLean into a den of iniquity. It didn’t matter that Aubrey was involved, too. Only Tatum would be held culpable.
Things were worse than they’d ever been between the families since the discovery of that damned gold and Tatum’s admittance that she was involved with Will and Josh McLean. Their old man had just had a mild heart attack, and was now scheduled for cancer surgery. His illness coincided with Drew’s return, just in time for him to play referee between the warring factions while Dad was out of action.
Drew had hoped to somehow bridge the divide, if only for Tatum’s sake. Yeah, he was a real optimist! If the McLeans learned that the girls were here together, it would put paid to his noble ideas. The McLeans were tigers when it came to protecting their only sister. Feelings were running high enough, and now this. What the hell had Tatum been thinking?
“What’s wrong, buddy?” Isaac asked. “You look ready to commit murder. I know she’s your sister, but she’s old enough to…hell, that’s not it, is it?”
Drew didn’t answer. He was already pounding down the stairs, and Isaac had to run to keep up with him. He approached his sister and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Drew, I didn’t—”
“Drew,” Farah said at the same time. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question.”
Farah was convinced she must be dreaming. She’d imagined this situation so many times that it was hard to separate fantasy from reality. Except there was nothing make-believe about the feel of Drew’s massive erection pressing against her pussy as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her witless. There was nothing fanciful about the way he tormented her mouth with seductive strokes of his tongue, or the way he drew on her lower lip until her body radiated with wanton lust. And even she couldn’t have dreamed up the exquisite shards of intense sensation that rippled through her as his large hands caressed her torso. They teased the sides of her breasts but didn’t actually touching them, driving her crazy because he didn’t seem nearly as desperate to move this forward as she was.
“Sorry, babe.” He released her immediately. “Did I hit an injury?”
“It’s okay. It just took me by surprise.”
“It’s not okay.” His beautiful eyes darkened when he scowled. “It’s very much not okay. I need to see the extent of the damage myself. I don’t trust you to tell me the truth.”
Without asking permission, he unbuttoned her jacket and pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms. Then he pulled her vest out of her waistband and she obediently raised her arms so he could take it off her. Pinch me, I’m dreaming. Drew touched the ugly bruise spreading across her midriff with delicate fingers.
Farah’s breath hitched in her throat, her pulse skitted in her veins. Speaking was impossible. She ran her fingers through his thick hair as he bent to inspect her other wound. It was just below her left breast and showed beneath her bra. When he looked up at her, his eyes were damp.
“If you hadn’t been wearing that vest—”
“Don’t you start. I was wearing it, and I’m still here, very much alive.” She paused, wondering why she felt this wild need to pour her heart out to him. Okay, so he was trained to make people do that, but she’d had years’ worth of experience in keeping her feelings to herself when it came to Drew Baldwin. “But there’s something missing, and I need you to make me feel completely alive.”
His smile was pure predatory male. “That I can do. I just need a minute to convince myself it was you who said those words and that I wasn’t hearing them in my imagination.”
“You hear voices, too, do you?” She sent him a taunting smile, delighted it wasn’t just her, and that they really were on the same page with this obsession thing. “You ought to see a shrink.”
“Sit down, Precious.” He helped her to the edge of the bed and left her there. “I’ll just be a moment.”
She heard him run back down the stairs, but true to his word he returned almost immediately with a jar in his hands.
“It’ll help with the bruising,” he replied. “A bruise happens through trauma, but I don’t need to tell you that. Veins and capillaries get mangled and leak blood into the tissue around them.” He smoothed some of the ointment from the jar onto the first bruise. His touch was so gentle that Farah closed her eyes and sighed. It felt almost orgasmic, but then it was Drew’s fingers applying the ointment so anything he did with them would. “This is made of Arnica Montana.”
“Of what?” she asked, her eyes flying open.
He smiled and kissed the end of her nose. “It’s a pretty yellow flower that contains thymol.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she said meekly.
“Thymol is a naturally occurring substance that soothes inflammation and opens veins to speed healing. Only problem is, it needs to be applied three or four times a day for maximum effect, and I’m not sure I can trust you to do that yourself.”
“Hmm, we do have a problem then. What can we do about it?”
He reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. When her breasts fell into his waiting hands, he expelled a deep sigh.
“Do you have any idea how often I’ve dreamed about these babies?” he asked, bending his head to very gently suckle first one nipple and then the other.
Farah leaned back on her arms and gloried in the feel of his lips feeding on her sensitized breasts. She spread her legs, and he knelt between them as he continued to torture her like only he knew how. Farah willed the moment to go on forever. It didn’t, of course, and a small protest slipped past her lips when he quit.
“Need to make this bruise better, too,” he said softly, applying more ointment to her injured breast. He took far longer than Farah thought was necessary, but who was she to complain when increasingly strong spikes of lust ripped through her each time his fingers touched her flesh? “I figure you’d better make yourself available so I can personally put the ointment on for you.” He looked up at her and grinned. “There, what do you say to that?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t put you to so much trouble,” she said, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. “A busy man like you.”
“Yeah, it’ll be a hell of a chore, but someone has to take it on.”
“You’re getting ointment all over your shirt,” she said, dipping her finger in the pot and deliberately smearing some over his shoulder.
“Can’t have that now, can we?”
He stood up and threw off his shirt. Farah’s eyes widened with a combination of shock and delight. The last time she’d seen him bare-chested had been over six years ago when he’d been swimming with his brothers in the lake and she’d come across them by accident. Yes, it really was an accident. Keep telling yourself you weren’t virtually stalking the poor guy. She’d thought the sight memorable then but it was nothing to the way he looked now. Drew Baldwin obviously worked out. A lot. She moistened her lips and sent him a sultry smile, enjoying the sight of all those rippling muscles, his sculpted torso, bulging, flexing pecs, and the way his waist narrowed so dramatically.
“Perhaps the cardigans aren’t sure a good idea,” she said.
“Aw, honey, you’re such a tease. I was thinking of getting a pipe, as well, just to complete the picture.”
“How about making me feel complete?” she asked, casting a glance at the bulge in his pants. “You might wanna let that thing out, too. It must be pretty cramped in there.”
He shot her a speaking look. “Ladies first.”