[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Paranormal Consensual BDSM Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, shape-shifters, spanking, caning, sex toys, HEA]
Wynter Hall is a great white shark. She urgently needs knee surgery after a near miss with a sports fisherman, but how can she get across the country to the shape-shifter clinic? Clinic handyman and Dom, Quinn Johnson, and personal care attendant Rainer King come to escort her. Just as well because someone doesn’t want the clinic to succeed and tries to prevent Wynter from arriving safely.
First she receives e-mails telling her the clinic is a fraud. Then the attacks get far more violent and personal. The wolf pack is keeping an eye on them and provides them safe places to stay at night where Wynter, who must swim every day, can shape-shift and swim. But it’s a long way from California to Ohio by road with a shark, three people in lust with each other, a Dom wanting to be in control, and someone determined to stop them at all costs.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Cara Adams is a Siren-exclusive author.
She swam in a circle but there didn’t seem to be blood in the water around her so likely she was exaggerating the pain. “I’m just tired. Suck it up and keep swimming, princess,” she told herself firmly.
But by the time she got back to the small, hidden beach where she’d left her car, her entire body was one huge ball of pain. Telling herself to be tough wasn’t exactly working anymore. She stayed under water, looking around, but she’d swum so slowly it was already dark and the place was deserted, thank goodness.
Wynter transformed, and pulled herself up onto the sand. Quickly she looked at her left knee. It was very swollen and the huge gash seemed to be quite deep just behind her knee, but even twisting her leg and head right around she couldn’t see much. She’d have to look in a mirror at home to see if it needed stitches. Maybe just putting some ice on it is all it needs, she thought hopefully.
But she couldn’t convince herself of that. It seemed awfully sore for just a minor injury.
Time to go home, Wynter. Get moving.
She pulled herself to her feet and screamed, falling straight back onto the sand.
Holy shit that hurt!
When the throbbing eased off a bit she stood up again, this time putting all her weight on her right leg and just resting the left foot on the sand to balance herself.
It was a long, long distance to hop on one leg all the way back to her car but she made it eventually. Her naked body was dripping with sweat and she was afraid she’d vomit from the pain, but she got there.
As always, she’d buried her car key in the sand immediately behind her back driver’s side tire. Sticking her leg straight out behind her, she bent over and dug it up, smoothed over the hole, and popped the trunk.
Resting her body against the car she toweled herself dry and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, not bothering with underwear. It was hard enough to get her shorts on without trying to put on panties first. She toweled her short, pale-blonde hair dry, then climbed into her car, grateful it was an automatic, not a stick shift.
She wasn’t sure what lie she would tell the ER staff, but she was too weak and ill to worry about it. She needed to get there and get some painkillers. She’d think of a good story to tell them when she arrived.
* * * *
By the time she was released from the emergency room the next day, Wynter was in a state of complete shock. She was limping along on hired crutches she hadn’t paid for, with a pile of bills she wasn’t sure she could pay, and a certificate to say she couldn’t work for three months, which she was almost certain meant her job would have mysteriously disappeared by the time she got back to work. She needed surgery, expensive surgery, and she couldn’t afford that either.
The nursing staff had been wonderful—helpful, caring, and polite. She’d been pumped full of painkillers, antibiotics, and fluids, her wound stitched, had been given a bunch of injections, and had more blood than she thought she could spare taken from her for various tests. So she’d expected that would be the end of the adventure.
But no. A doctor had sat beside her bed and explained clearly and succinctly, that whatever piece of metal she’d caught her leg on had “considerably damaged” her knee and she needed a full knee reconstruction.
“What we’re talking about here is an anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction. We should be able to use your own tendons to replace the damaged one which has to be removed, which in turn means there’s minimal chance of rejection. It’s a complex procedure, I won’t try to deny that, but twelve months after the operation more than eighty percent of patients report a favorable result.”
“You’ll most likely be on your feet in two weeks and back at work in twelve weeks, but it usually takes about twelve months for complete recovery. You’ll be hopping and jumping with equal hamstring strength on the injured leg as the uninjured one by then.”
Wynter wanted to ask about swimming but decided not to. There was a much more important question to ask first. “Roughly how much will it cost?”
“Assuming your insurance covers anesthesia and post-operative physical therapy and rehabilitation, on the order of three, three and half thousand dollars.”
Wynter gulped. Three thousand? She was going to be really struggling to pay the three hundred she already owed. She was on minimum wage with no insurance.
“And if I don’t have the surgery?” she asked.
He shook his head at her. “A torn anterior cruciate ligament will not repair itself. With careful management and pain relief you’ll be able to get by for some months, while the pain will gradually get worse and the limb less mobile. Once you start walking off balance to minimize the pain to your knee, you will start putting additional stress on other areas of your body such as your hip and your back, which will then begin to ache. I wouldn’t recommend delaying the surgery. If you wish, I can ask the hospital social worker to drop by and see you. There are organizations that will help you get a loan to pay for the surgery.”
Very carefully he rested his hand on her right hip, relishing the feel of her slightly rough skin under his palm. He could hear her breathing, soft and light, and Quinn’s, deeper and heavier, and guessed they were both asleep. Quietly he lowered his head to the pillow and lay still, basking in the pure joy of holding a beautiful woman in his arms.
He must have fallen asleep because it was starting to grow light when he opened his eyes next. Wynter was grinding her ass against his cock, and his cock was loving it. He loved it, too, but his brain was trying to remind him it wasn’t necessarily a good idea.
Before he could say anything, she lifted Quinn’s T-shirt off and threw it on the floor, then reached behind her and grabbed his cock out of his boxers in a determined fist.
“Wynter?” he gulped.
“Fuck me, please. Take me from behind so it doesn’t hurt my knee. Do it, Rainer, please, please, please. I need you to fuck me right now.”
She let go of his cock and placed her hands on her panties, trying to tug them down. His brain was out to lunch right now, but his hands instantly cooperated in sliding the tiny garment down her legs and off over her feet.
“Quinn, suck my breasts. Lick them, bite them, help me to come,” she ordered.
Rainer’s cock was already trying to push into her pussy from behind but with his last functioning brain cell he managed to ask, “Wynter, are you sure about this? Are you sure you want us to fuck you?”
“Yes, yes, now, please. Fuck me now.”
Rainer couldn’t wait any longer. It was what he wanted above all things anyway. He pressed his cock between her legs into her hot and welcoming cunt. She was very wet, very ready for him, and he held her hips and began to pump into her, his mouth pressing kisses to her shoulder as he did.
On the other side of her, Quinn was groaning, his mouth on her breasts. Well Quinn wasn’t holding back saying it wasn’t professional either.
Rainer stopped thinking and started feeling. Feeling her skin pushing back against him, her ass cheeks no longer soft, but rough and scratchy now, her back the same. Feeling the tightness and heat of her gripping his cock in a warm, firm, wet fist, more wonderful than he could ever have imagined.
He pressed his chest to her back, holding her shoulders, kissing her skin, pumping into her with his hips working hard, wanting to pleasure her with everything he could offer her.
Wynter was making little whimpering noises now, her butt pushing back against him, her hips rotating and driving him wild. Quinn’s face was against her skin, and over Wynter’s happy little noises he could hear Quinn’s murmurs of appreciation, too.
He slid one hand down her side, stroking and petting her every inch of the way until he reached her hip. For long moments he drew circles on her skin with his fingertips, gradually working his way closer and closer to her pussy, until finally he could touch her clit. It was burning hot and engorged. Happily, he stroked it while he continued to thrust into her strongly, trying to penetrate her as deeply as he could with his cock, to pleasure her to the utmost.
Quinn’s face was buried between her breasts, and he had one hand on each, playing with the nipples. Rainer could see how huge her nipples were, could feel how aroused her clit was, and could hear more of the happy noises she was making. She was still pressing back onto his cock, driving him wild with need.