[Ménage Amour: Erotic Paranormal Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, shape-shifters, HEA]
Despite her home at Tarrabah being in ashes after an attack by ghost destroyers, Misty Mortimer goes with her instinct to trust ghost brothers Damon and Kadar Karlssen, finding their attraction is mutually hypnotic. But the brothers are trying to break the northern vampires' centuries-long hold on the secret of a viral curse, and in order to do so all three are pitted against a formidable enemy.
Buoyed by a prophecy from her homeland in Tasmania, Misty must survive the vampire caves beneath Whitby but can only do so if Damon and she can link in a way they have never before. Aided by the ghost of her grandfather who died at the hands of the vampires, and a love that has survived generations, there is a final choice put to them by the Oracle, and they must decide whether the power of love will win.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Misty could not think of one good reason to be where she was. Whatever had possessed her to agree to come with Bonnie for a long weekend in Yorkshire was now little more than a faint memory. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to bad weather, having been raised in Tasmania. Even in summer the mountains had been known to have snowfalls, but, unlike her brothers in Tasmania, she’d stay inside reading if the weather looked even half as bad as it had been in England for last three days.
“It rates as the second-best walk in the world,” said Bonnie, who had looked at cheap holiday options on Google from their apartment in London. “It takes two weeks but we can just do the last few days if you can’t get time off work. It’ll only cost a train fare and the pubs each night.”
The latter, Misty had soon found out, had been the main attraction for Bonnie, who’d been doing a nightly tasting of the local ales.
“It’s early October, barely out of summer,” Bonnie had also said, failing to add that it had been the wettest summer on record, and that the one before had also seen torrential downpours. These hadn’t abated. Misty had great gear, but there was no such thing as waterproof clothing when you were negotiating mires and bogs in which you could disappear up to your waist, and when it rained pretty much all day every day.
By the third and last day of the walk, Misty was longing for a change of clothes, a fire, and a steaming hot drink. The rain in her face felt like ice shards and with the steady drips off her hood, as well as the thick mist, the vast and supposedly beautiful moors could have been hiding half a dozen Heathcliffs and no one would know.
To make matters worse, Bonnie had found her Heathcliff and taken a taxi with him. Misty had been tempted to go with them but it seemed wrong to come walking in order to clear your head and then not do so. Now, up to her knees in mud and with no sign of a path, she wondered at this decision. The more pressing issue was, just where was she? Her map had got wet and disintegrated in her hands. All she could do now was head east and hope for the best.
This was easier said than done. The gorse was thick underfoot but in spots gave way to hidden bogs that attempted to swallow her boots. Misty had to work hard to retrieve both foot and boot on more than one occasion. She swore loudly and a startled grouse flew into the air, cooing messages of caution to its mate. She watched it disappear into the mist and stood for a moment, the stillness and silence making her feel she was every bit as remote as in her home at Tarrabah. Steeling herself, she cautiously put another foot forward.
“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you.”
The voice emerged from the fog to her right and Misty visibly started. She had excellent senses and though he was downwind, she should have heard him. Or rather, them. She had been thinking of the Bronte sisters’ lonely walks on the moors and Catherine calling for Heathcliff—now, confronted by two hooded men whose faces were in shadows underneath what looked like the heavy oiled Driza-Bone coats she’d had as a teenager, Misty was left wondering for a moment if she was dreaming.
“There’s a bog hole,” the voice explained in a lightly-Australian accent. The sort of accent an Australian had after living overseas for a few years, like Misty. This one didn’t have a British twinge, however. Something more exotic.
“There are bog holes everywhere,” said Misty, stepping closer to them. “Are you heading to Robin Hood’s Bay by any chance?”
With her step forward, both men almost imperceptibly stepped back, exchanging a look. Misty stopped, all her senses alert. “I was thinking it would be good to have someone lead the way or pull me out if I go down one of those holes.”
There was a moment of silence. The icy wind picked up, straight off the North Sea, bringing with it a sense of malaise that went deeper than the cold. Misty had no need to fear men, even two of them. She could easily defeat them, had their intent been anything other than noble. But, though still upwind, her senses suggested they might not be just men.
The bulkier of the two, with lazier vowels, hesitated before asking, “You’re alone?”
Misty could just make out his face. There was a softness to his lips and a boyish look, perhaps because of the wet hair over his eyes. The half-smile looked genuine and she sensed concern, but it was the deep-green eyes that drew Misty’s attention. As if he knew they had given him away, he turned to the other man who had been watching her in silence.
“I don’t think it’s safe to be walking alone,” the boyish one continued to his companion. “We should ensure she gets there.”
“Of course.” This was the voice that had first spoken, more reserved, more measured. He had the same green eyes. “That is,” he continued, “if you think we are safer than the alternative.”
Misty stared at him. The tone wasn’t threatening, but in the words was a warning. She wasn’t sure of what. There was something about him that seemed oddly familiar. She stepped closer. This time the men remained still and any doubts about who they were vanished.
“You’re a long way from home,” said Misty, trying to keep her tone light. Against these two, even with her unusual capabilities, a bookworm like her wouldn’t stand a chance.
“As are you,” said the measured man, his eyes never leaving her.
She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t feeling threatened. Which instinct to go with?
Misty held her breath, feeling their arousal, the anticipation of what might be coming leaving her shaking slightly. She could hear movement, one of them going to the bathroom and running the tap while the other dropped the warm oil onto her bush and rubbed his fingers into it, briefly circling over her clit. She moaned, wanting more, but he pulled back as his brother returned.
One moved to each side and pulled up her knees. More oil dripped, right into her crack, and then she felt the gentle tug as a razor started to remove the hair of her bush. She’d never had a Brazilian, thought the whole idea of wax and beauticians doing something so personal was somewhat repugnant. But this was a whole different experience. She would be, as Damon said, totally nude before them, and the idea sent more butterflies through her stomach and juice into her slit.
It took a little time as the razor did its work, but Damon, and she was sure it was him as she went into his mind, kept to the pubic area and the inner thighs, not touching her lips until Kadar whispered to her, “Now for the fun bit.”
In her inner sanctum she could feel the men communicating but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but she quickly lost interest in listening when their fingers opened her up and the razor went over the lips and then onto the inner edges. They worked slowly and methodically, taking it in turns to do one side each. When she was finally denuded, each ran a finger very gently over her slit. Kadar circled around her clit, gently teasing it out, as it hardened. Tingling electrical impulses vibrated through her.
“We’re going to untie you and turn you over,” said Damon, and she found herself on her stomach, this time hands together over her head and her legs tied apart but with more movement possible.
“We want to look at your very delicious ass,” said Kadar as warm oil dropped down her crack. Fingers pulled apart her butt cheeks and she felt again the pull of the razor before fingers massaged over her asshole. One finger dipped inside and she nearly cried out no, but before the word could form a wave of pleasure silenced her. She clamped on the finger and her hips began to rock.
“I think she’s enjoying this,” Damon murmured, moving in between her legs. “Let’s see if she likes this, too.”
Misty felt her hips being lifted until she was on her knees. Damon’s tongue licked over her ass as a finger, Kadar’s, she thought, ran down her slit to her clit. She shivered. Now Damon’s face was in her cunt, licking and sucking as their pleasure again merged and she was for a moment uncertain where her excitement finished and his began.
“Oh yes,” she moaned, writhing.
“Do you want a cock?” asked Kadar.
“Could you manage two?”
“Yes,” Misty said, though she had no idea how, just that she wanted them both, badly. She felt Kadar moving over her, and gently he ran his cock over her mouth. The exquisite feelings that Damon was teasing her with left her feeling so helpless that the thought of sucking Kadar’s cock while still tied up seemed wildly desirable. She opened her mouth and licked the pre-cum, feeling Kadar’s response escalate to join her and Damon’s. She took the end in her mouth, tongue tracing all around until she sucked him into her as hard as she could.
She was aware of Damon’s fingers opening her cunt and moving his own cock up and down it. With one thrust he entered deep inside her, pulling her hips to him just as she lifted her head to take more of Kadar’s cock. The feeling of being filled by them both, simultaneously, sent shock waves through her. Electricity left her feeling so wired she was shaking until her muscles, clamping hard over Damon’s cock, escalated the sensation to a rippling orgasmic spasm. Both men eased their thrusts as she came, Damon leaning back while remaining hard in her. “Again,” he instructed after a moment, when her panting had calmed.