She gave in to the ecstasy building, flooding through her body, short-circuiting her nerves and her brain. Every muscle pulled taut as the tension broke free. Even her vocal cords were out of her control. She couldn't do anything but keen as the orgasm overtook her. After a couple of minutes she focused on the men leaning over her, her men. Jonas was no longer moving inside her, no longer buried inside her.
He searched her face, seemed to see what he was looking for, and nodded.
“Slide up on the lounger, sugar,” Mick ordered.
She did, but they stayed where they were, and she realized she'd come and Jonas had come, but Mick hadn't yet. She held her breath, watched as he gripped Jonas's hips and surged forward. Mick's head was thrown back, his skin drawn tight over his cheeks, and his lips pressed together.
“Beautiful,” she murmured and wondered if they knew what they looked like together. How raw and carnal and easy to read their love for each other was. She quashed a moment of unease, the fear she might not be part of that love. But Jonas was watching her like he knew exactly what was going through her mind.
“Touch yourself for me, darlin'.”
She sucked in a breath. She was no stranger to her body, but to masturbate while someone watched—no, while Jonas and Mick watched—felt scandalous.
Decadent.
“Do it, Harper.” His voice was low, more coaxing than demanding. “I want to see your fingers in our pretty little pussy.”
She blushed from her toes to her forehead, and embarrassment warred with lust as she slowly palmed her breasts, squeezing her nipples to tight buds before sliding her hands down. Over her ribs, past her belly, to spread the lips hiding her sex. Jonas's eyes glowed the eerie blue she knew meant his wolf was close to the surface.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Keep going.”
But she wasn't sure if the words were for her or Mick, who was fucking him faster, harder. Who cared? It was a major turn-on, and if she got to get off watching them, she wasn't complaining. She pushed a finger into her pussy, moved it in and out a few strokes, gathering the hot moisture before moving her finger to rub her clit. It was hard, pulsing, begging for attention. So good. She arched her back as the feeling built, thrusting fingers from her other hand into her pussy, switching her gaze from Jonas to Mick and back again as she did. She tried to hold on to the enjoyment, tried to drag it out, and in minutes she was shaking with the restraint.
“That's it, sugar,” Mick moaned. “Come now. Come with us.” She was helpless against the order, could only fall apart as she watched a shudder move through Mick's body as he came, matching the one that racked Jonas while he pumped his cock and cum spurt from its tip.
It was a long time later, while she was lying back on the lounger between them, that her brain reengaged. “This is going to be complicated, isn't it?”
“What's complicated?” Mick said. “You love us. We love you.” Her heart stuttered. “Is that right?” she asked lightly. She loved them. She couldn't say when or how it had happened, it certainly made no sense, but she couldn't deny to herself how she felt. But is that what they really felt?
Jonas rolled to his side and leaned up on one elbow. “That's right,” he said. “I know this seems fast to you. You don't know us well yet. You don't know much about werewolves yet. But we'll get there. It'll all work out, I promise.”
“Even if I'm soft?” She honestly wasn't sure how she felt about that assessment.
His smile was slow and lazy. “I like soft, and you are soft in all the right places, darlin'.”
She rolled her eyes and fought a losing battle to control the new flight of butterflies in her belly.
“I was mistaking soft with weak,” he continued, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “But our mate isn't weak.”
“No,” she agreed, but she wasn't convinced he wouldn't change his mind later, and her fear was in her voice.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Witches are so different from you all. No affection. No love. At least not openly.” She shrugged. “To feel a part of that, but fear losing it…” She let the thought trail off.
Mick scooted closer to her, his heat infusing her and making her feel less exposed. “There is no way you'll lose us, Harper. Mating is forever. There's no splitting up. No divorce.”
“I've heard that. I just, I guess I'm afraid one of you might regret it later.”
“Me. You're afraid I'll regret it,” Jonas said, and she could only nod. She was sure of Mick's feelings. Jonas's? Not so much. He laughed.
“Oh, darlin', that's not going to happen. You are exactly what I want. Exactly who we need.” His lips met hers, soft and gentle and warm. He lifted his head enough to meet her gaze. “I love you. That isn't going to change.” When he looked at her like that, no barriers, totally open, she believed him.
She wanted him and Mick, wanted to be part of their lives, their love, and was forced to face her last fear.
“I don't know much about love,” she whispered.
“Don't worry about it, sugar,” Mick said, and she switched her gaze to him, heart tripping at his lascivious grin. “We know all the ways to love you.”
She laughed at the audacious claim, joy bursting inside her and she was certain everything was going to be all right, everything was going to be perfect. She wrapped an arm around each of them. “Show me,” she demanded.
And they did.
Loose Id Titles by Loribelle Hunt
The SPELLBOUND MOON Series
Once Bitten
Twice Shy
Loribelle Hunt
Loribelle is like the South she calls home. Hot and sultry. Languid and sexy. Magnolias and gardenias scent her silk-lined boudoir, and men and children alike bow to her magnificence…
Okay, maybe it isn't quite that glamorous. She does have two smart and lovely daughters who give her a run for her money and a son that will one day be someone's model of a romance hero. (She promises.) Her husband is a real-life hero, and Loribelle just tries to keep up with the demands of military life. In between, she writes a book or two.
She's had every job under the sun, but haven't most writers? That Army military police, bookstore manager, waitress, wedding photographer, website designer experience has to come in useful sometimes. As they say in the South, it all washes out in the end.
She loves hearing from her readers and can be found at http://www.loribellehunt.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
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Document creation date: 18.3.2012
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Loribelle Hunt
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