by Amira Rain
“I’ve always believed in the old saying, ‘If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.’”
“And I keep telling him,” Pearce addressed Megan, “maybe it’s not broken, but the next thing you build will probably work better.”
“It works just fine now,” Nash maintained, unyielding.
Pearce was about to make a pointed retort to his brother when the sound of more soft laughter from Megan interrupted them. They eyed her quizzically.
“I’m sorry to laugh,” she said. “It’s just kind of funny to hear the two of you this way. You go round and round like a dog chasing his own tail.”
Pearce stiffened with mock indignation. “Excuse me. We’re not dogs. We’re wolves.”
Megan stifled her laughter. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it.”
“That’s all right,” Pearce told her. “You’ll pay for that—later.” And he added a wry, sexy smile, which Megan found copied exactly on his brother’s face. She would be only too happy to give them what they meant to collect.
With a tingle, she suggested, “Why don’t you show me where you do what you do?”
“You’ve seen the master suite already,” replied Nash. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of it, don’t worry.”
“Mostly the ceiling,” Pearce added.
“No, no,” she said, waving off the idea—for the moment. “Show me where you work, where you make all that great stuff.”
“Oh, the wood shop,” said Nash. “All right, we’ll go out there for a minute. There’s nothing going on; the guys have all gone home. But you can at least have a look.”
The twins led her out of the living room to the side door leading outside and across the property to the barn.
The Maguire woodworking shop was a cavernous space on the ground floor with a staircase leading to an upper mezzanine with an office space. One whole wall was taken up with lumber and boards, another with sets of hand tools, another with furniture parts. Occupying the floor space were work tables, benches, racks of power tools, and stationary power tools. Megan was impressed at how neat they kept the place.
Even the floor was immaculately swept. She supposed they might have made a point of making the place especially tidy because they knew she would be visiting. But it wouldn’t have surprised her, considering the pride the brothers took in their work, to know that this was the way they generally kept it.
Megan happened to be standing at the end of a long wooden bench when she said, “All the work that must go on in here—you guys must work up quite an appetite.”
Nash moved in close to her and encircled her waist with his arms. “Yes, we do,” he said.
Behind them, Pearce straddled the bench and put his hands on Megan’s shoulders, brushing her hair to one side. “As a matter of fact,” he said into her ear, “we’ve done a lot of great work right here on this bench.” He slipped his hands down and began to fondle Megan’s breasts over her blouse. Kissing her exposed neck, he said, “Very tight, very precise work.”
Nash let his hands roam down to her thighs and around to her buttocks while he brought his lips to hers and stole a fast, hot kiss. “Want to see?”
Megan’s mind began to swim in the long-desired feelings of being embraced, felt up, and kissed by a werewolf—two werewolves—once again. They were instinctively, empathically going for exactly the right places to have exactly the right arousing effect. How easy it would be to surrender to them completely, right here in their workspace.
For so many years she had missed this. So many years she had thought she would never know this again, while married to a man who eventually betrayed her. Now here it was again, doubled. But she somehow managed to pull her mind back into focus enough to ask in a purring tone, “What about dinner?”
As suddenly as the cascade of pleasure started, it stopped. Both brothers pulled back and became still, while keeping their hands on her. Time itself seemed to come to a halt.
“You really want dinner first?” Nash asked.
Slightly awkwardly, Megan replied, “I was just wondering. You might have had something ready…”
Looking over Megan’s shoulder at his brother, Nash said, “We did say dinner first. Let’s take her back to the house.”
“Fine,” said Pearce. “Back to the house.” And leaning back into Megan’s ear: “First we’ll feed you. Then we’ll f…”
Understanding, Megan said, “Okay. Dinner.”
Pearce un-straddled the bench that was almost the scene of a different kind of drilling than what usually went on in the workshop, and together the three of them exited, leaving most, but not all, of the wood behind them.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next place in the house that the brothers showed Megan was the kitchen, where she volunteered to help with the salad while they prepared the first venison dinner she’d had since her time with Tate. Lycanthropes had a natural love for deer meat. Megan did not ask, but she could well guess that they may have actually gone to wolf form and stalked and brought down the buck themselves. It was their nature. They cooked it on a grill in yet another stone fireplace, right there in the kitchen.
Once everything was ready, they took everything to the dining room, which had a long and beautiful wooden table. The dining room had a wine rack, from which the brothers selected and poured their favorite vintage. They ate heartily. After dinner, the twins cleared the table and brought chocolate mousse desserts from the fridge, which was perfect—first a deer, then a “moose.” Outside, late afternoon had given way to early evening, which had yielded at last to nighttime. The mood was set.
“It’s time we went back to the living room and built the fire and lit the candles,” said Pearce meaningfully.
They both fixed Megan with dark and smoldering stares as Nash said, “Ready?”
As if they had to ask. “Ready,” Megan answered.
In the living room, the brothers worked quickly. Having Megan simply stand at one end of the sofa—“Don’t undress—yet; just wait,” Nash instructed her—they created the desired mood. The logs in the hearth were already prepared for Nash to light them, while Pearce lit the candles and doused the house lights, leaving the room in a warm golden glow of firelight and candlelight. Then the brothers took off their boots and stepped in stocking feet onto the quilts before the fire.
“Now,” said Pearce, “take off everything but your bra and panties and come here.”
Piece by piece, Megan slipped off what she was wearing and tossed her garments onto an Ottoman in front of one chair at one end of the sofa. As she did, she kept her eyes fixed on the twin tableau of the brothers undressing in front of her. In less than a minute everything was stripped and cast aside except for the black bra and panties that Megan had selected just for this occasion—and the respective jeans of Nash and Pearce Maguire.
“Okay, beautiful,” said Nash, “come over here and let us finish the job.”
Feeling as lit up as the candles on the coffee table and the mantle, Megan stepped around the coffee table and onto the quilts. At once, the bare, strong arms of solid muscle pulled her to them, and she stood breathless and quivering in the embrace of naked biceps and the crush of naked, hairy pecs. “When we’re shagging a woman,” said Pearce, “we like to take off her underthings ourselves. Nash, get the panties. I’ve got her bra.”
Pearce made short work of Megan’s bra and flung it away, then closed his strong hands fully around her breasts and began to squeeze and palm them while kissing lustily and deeply at her mouth. She moaned into his kiss—only the beginning, she knew, of the moaning she’d be doing.
At the same time she felt Nash’s hands slipping the panties over her bottom and down her thighs. He dropped to his knees, pulling the sheer little garment with him, and got it down over her feet, letting her step free. He tossed the panties somewhere and stood back up, kissing and licking at Megan’s shoulders while grasping her buttocks. “You have the softest ass,” he said to her between kisses.
“And the nicest
tits,” said Pearce, licking at her lips. “We need to get these damn pants off right now. Sit down on your knees, Megan, and watch us.”
Megan did not have to be told twice. The brothers released her and Nash stepped around in front of her and next to Pearce. In practically synchronized motions, the twins unzipped their flies and pulled their jeans open and down, releasing the identical prizes within. In the same ballet of movement, they pulled the jeans down and off and tossed them away, revealing themselves naked and fully, awesomely aroused in the firelight.
The blunt heads of their erect and prodigious members glinted with man-nectar. Megan was dazzled. She had never seen anything so beautiful, so perfect, in all her life as these brothers on whose bodies her own body would now feast; these twin wolf men who would now claim her for their own.
The twins gazed down at her with looks of pure sex and raw desire. “You like these dicks, huh?” Pearce asked, an obvious question with an obvious answer.
“Lord yes,” Megan half-whispered.
“Touch ‘em,” Nash said. They took a step closer. “Go ahead. Touch ‘em. Feel them.”
And Megan did. She took Nash’s member in her left hand and Pearce’s in her right, and slid her fingers up and down them, making her heart skip at the incredible hardness and powerful pulsation in their shafts, making her hands slick with the natural lube that beaded at the heads. “Oh God,” she said with a hot dizziness. “You feel wonderful.” She cupped the hot sacs of the two brothers at once, making them grunt and curse appreciatively. “So wonderful…”
As in their wolf bodies they may have descended upon their cornered deer, Nash and Pearce descended on Megan there on the quilts by the fire. They fell to their knees along with her and began to exercise their full and unrestrained lust. Pearce took her mouth again in a savage, animal kiss, while Nash played first at her nipples and his hands were the first to reach her muff, then the wet folds of her womanhood. At Nash’s touch in her most private place, Megan tore her mouth from Pearce’s hungry lips and cried out, only to have her mouth enveloped in Nash’s torrid kiss.
“Let me feel some of that down there too,” Pearce grunted, reaching down to where Nash had his hands. While Nash’s fingertips found the pulpy button nestled in her folds, Pearce’s fingers probed the wetness just beyond the threshold of her sex, making Megan whimper into his brother’s kiss. “Mmm, that’s good and wet,” said Pearce. “Lie down. I’m gonna go down on you first. You can suck my brother while I do.”
As reluctant to take herself from their arms as she was eager for more of the pleasure they had to offer, Megan leaned back and down and stretched herself out on the quilts for them. Instantly, Pearce descended headfirst between Megan’s parted thighs, and her world melted into the bliss of his lips, fingers, and tongue doing their work on her sex. He slipped two fingers inside her and captured her joy buzzer with his mouth, making her erupt with pure delight.
Nash climbed down onto her in front of Pearce, straddling her breasts, giving her the thrill of his balls against her bosom. Gently he took her head in one hand and brought it forward while angling his long, thick, and throbbing shaft towards her face. Megan licked first her lips, then the tip of his tool, and let him carefully and sensuously slip his meat into her mouth.
It was her first taste of lycanthrope wood and berries in so long. Megan wondered how she had lived without it. Nash grunted through clenched teeth and moved his piece over her tongue as far as his empathy told him it could go. Then, cursing and lusting, he carefully began to pump his meat in and out of her mouth.
The feel of them…the taste of them…the scent of them! What they were doing to Megan consumed her senses and her world. Up above, Nash slid his man-pole in and out of her mouth with exactly the right stroke and vigor. He was so hard, so thick, so delicious. He let his piece slip from between her lips and groaned, “Suck my balls. Lick ‘em, suck ‘em…”
He brought his privates closer to give her access to his full and fleshy sac, and she took it tenderly into her mouth. Her sucking made him toss back his head and almost shout with pleasure. “Yeah! Suck it! Suck it!” She did. She filled her mouth with it and savored it, until at last he pulled it away, took hold of his slippery shaft, and moved it back into her mouth to let her feast on it again. It was so good—so good…
…as good as what Pearce was doing to her down below, French-kissing her sex, slipping his tongue into her passage while thumbing and fingering her nub, making Megan bend her knees up around him and enclose him in her thighs while arching her back. She fed herself to him, feeding the hungry wolf with her womanly succulence, and he consumed all that she had to give, putting his whole mouth over her sex and sucking and kissing it deeply. He kissed and tongued her lady parts over and over again, and teased her love bud with his fingers, pleasing her as only a man like him could. It was all the pleasure she could ever want—and yet it was not even the beginning.
At length, Nash called back, “Let me taste some of that.” With a final kiss of her sex, Pearce took his head from between Megan’s legs and rose up on his knees again, maneuvering himself backward and letting Nash take his place down there. Pearce stepped around them, then put his feet on either side of Megan’s body and went back down on his knees, enclosing her in his legs and setting his crotch onto her bosom, his hard-on coming to rest in her cleavage. He smiled wickedly down at her and moved himself up to her face.
As Nash did before him, Pearce used one hand to move Megan’s mouth to the waiting head of his erection. He smoothly slipped his piece into her mouth and said, “Grab my ass.” Reaching around Pearce’s hips, Megan did as he asked her and grasped the cheeks of his buttocks, and Pearce began to pump his piece in her mouth. “Yeah,” he moaned. “Show me how you love my dick. Suck it…” Megan relished every stroke over her tongue, even as she continued to delight beyond words at what was being repeated down below.
Nash ate her out every bit as expertly as Pearce had done. He used his lips and tongue on her like a master. He probed the warm and wet depths of her passage with his tongue and moved his fingertip in circles against her bud, sending swirls of joy into and through Megan’s body. He licked and slurped her folds up and down, and kissed and licked her mound, then returned his tongue to probing and penetrating her, bombarding her with different feelings of joy.
He took her sex with his entire mouth as his brother had done, sucking hard and deep, making her moan with her mouth full of Pearce’s meat. Pearce withdrew himself from Megan’s mouth and fed her his man-plums, which she sucked as hungrily as she had done his brother’s while grabbing his buttocks and making him curse approvingly into the flickering light.
Finally, Pearce climbed off and settled down to one side of Megan, and lowered his face to hers, taking her mouth in a long kiss with a probing tongue to match what Nash was doing to her so rapturously down below. Then he said, “I’m gonna watch my brother fuck you now. Then it’s my turn.”
A shudder went through Megan. She breathed deeply and prepared herself as they both watched Nash come back up to his knees and pull her slippery and tingling sex to him. He positioned his crotch and his shaft between her legs and moved his long, thick bluntness to her opening—and Megan moaned for joy at the feeling of him sliding it all the way into her.
Whimpering, Megan submitted to Nash laying himself down on top of her, beside his twin. The brothers looked into each other’s eyes, Nash communicating to Pearce the raw and all-consuming pleasure he was feeling to Pearce as he began to hump and thrust, driving his hardened length into Megan’s tight wetness. “Uuuhhh, she’s good,” Nash grunted. “She is fucking good. Uuuhhh…”
Boundless pleasure took full possession of Megan’s mind. He said she was good, but Nash was beyond belief—so good, so fantastically, awesomely, euphorically good, that Megan clung to him as if to fuse the two of them into a single thrashing flesh. She wailed and whimpered on the brink of tears at how good he felt, pumping the largeness and hardness of his lycanthrope mea
t deep into her. She could swear that she felt the impact of every thrust that he rammed into her in every cell of her body.
He took her and banged her in a way that told her beyond question that she was lying under, and being plundered by, an Alpha male who knew and claimed what he wanted, when he wanted it. Every beat of his crotch against her mound and every stroke of his staff in and out of her let Megan know that she was being claimed; totally, completely claimed. Her body cried out for more and more, and she knew that more was what she would get.
She would get it from Nash, and she would have it doubled when Nash came and his brother took over. In a pleasure-soaked, waking dream state, Megan looked over from Nash on top of her to Pearce beside her, into the raw and carnal look on Pearce’s handsome face. While slamming the war club of his maleness inside her and making her sex quiver with the sensation, Nash propped himself up on his elbows, making room for Pearce to reach between him and her and play with her nipples. He licked his lips like the beast he was inside, enjoying what his twin was doing to her.