Jenna Stewart
Page 1
The Sisters O’Ryan 3
Siobhan
In 1875, Siobhan O’Ryan marries Micah, one of Boston’s Berwick twins. Micah has charm, good looks, a nice nature, and money. Lots of money. Siobhan has seen two of her sisters suffer because one married for love and the other let their father select her husband. Siobhan will stake her future on her own practicality. Choosing Micah means she will be the belle of Boston.
Micah hates destroying Siobhan’s dreams by telling her they must move to San Francisco, but it’s that or be disinherited. Surprisingly, he falls in love with his new wife along the way and then discovers that his twin loves her too. Even more surprising is when Siobhan reveals that she would enjoy having both men in her bed. Just when they think nothing can destroy their freedom and happiness in wild California, visitors arrive from straitlaced Boston that threaten everything.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 41,077 words
SIOBHAN
The Sisters O’Ryan 3
Jenna Stewart
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
SIOBHAN
Copyright © 2012 by Jenna Stewart
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-593-6
First E-book Publication: August 2012
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
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This is Jenna Stewart’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Stewart’s right to earn a living from her work.
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DEDICATION
With love always to my one true hero. You showed me Boston, San Francisco, and everything in between. Life with you has been—and continues to be—a real adventure.
SIOBHAN
The Sisters O’Ryan 3
JENNA STEWART
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
July, 1875
“Siobhan?”
Siobhan O’Ryan leaned against the bedpost in the room Mrs. Berwick had set aside for her use and wondered if she had done the right thing by sending a maid for Micah Berwick.
The man’s voice softly called, “Are you in there?”
“The door isn’t locked.”
He opened it an inch or two. “Are you sure you want me to come in? Aren’t you busy preparing for the service?”
She laughed, the low husky laugh he said drove him crazy. “You might as well come in. You’re here.”
“You called for Micah,” he replied dryly. “Can I help you with something?”
She moved to the door. Hand on the knob, she pulled it open. “Yes, please.”
His eyes lit with appreciation as he took her in. “You make a beautiful bride.”
In all honesty, she knew that to be true. When she had finally hooked Micah Berwick—the man she knew she could make happy, so there was no harm in admitting that she had set her sights on him and used all of her assets to ensure he proposed—she had begged, cajoled, thrown tantrums and anything else required, to make sure her father provided her the funds to buy the very best fabrics available in New York. A superior seamstress there had created a wedding gown and trousseau far beyond anything she could have had made in provincial Asheville. The Berwicks had standards, after all.
Micah plucked lightly at the ivory satin lace that covered her neck to breast. “Who’s the lucky man?” he teased.
With her free hand, she tugged him into the room. Then she closed the door and locked it. “One of the Berwick twins. I can never tell them apart.”
He chuckled, low in his throat. “Are you sure the correct twin is here now?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my. That would be quite a faux pas, wouldn’t it, since I intend to seduce you.”
“You have the devil in you, woman. “
“Do I?”
He laid his hands on her waist and pushed her back toward the bed. “Your new husband will be a very lucky man.” he said, continuing the charade. “Tonight will be a pleasure.”
Was it a charade? What if this man was really Andrew instead of Micah? She grew warm. How wicked! “And what does a husband do on the wedding night?” She whispered the words.
“Claims his woman in every way a man can claim a woman.” He kissed her cheek, probably afraid anything else would mess her carefully applied makeup.
With heat that had nothing to do with the July day, she put her mouth to his ear and murmured, “Will you fuck me?”
He practically jumped away from her. “Where did you hear such things?”
Siobhan shrugged and backed up, out of his arms. Confident his reaction was not dismay but rather shock that she knew a word like “fuck,” she turned and walked to the dresser. She picked up a silver-backed brush and stroked it through the lower strands of curls flowing over her shoulder. Only the lower strands of hair, however. She had taken time to arrange her hair just so. When she felt he’d had time to digest her question, she slowly spun to face him. “A girl hears many things a man doesn’t suspect.”
Standing ramrod straight, he stared, his amazing blue eyes partially hooded. His hair, black as coal, lay in obedience except for the curl that always insisted on falling to his forehead. The black cutaway mornin
g coat fit him snugly and perfectly. Muscles in his thighs filled out the pants. She smiled with satisfaction to see thigh muscles weren’t the only things filling out his pants. If Satan himself stood before her, she wouldn’t be able to tell him from Micah Berwick, the man she would marry in less than thirty minutes.
“What else have you heard?” he asked, his voice hoarse and low.
“I know what a man does to a woman with his cock.” His brows quirked. His mouth curved into a sensual smile and he started toward her. Her breath quickened. “I know he sticks it in a woman’s passage and strokes her until she screams with pleasure.”
“With skill and luck, that’s true.” He could reach out and touch her from where he now stood, but his arms remained at his side.
“Will you make me scream?”
He nodded. His hands fisted. He appeared to be using every ounce of strength to keep from pulling her into his arms. “Tonight you’ll scream. You’ll cry to God with pleasure.”
“Now. I want you now.”
He snorted a laugh. “You’re to be walking toward the altar in under half an hour.”
She ran her hands down her body, watching him watching her. “I tried hard to make myself look the virgin, pure and wholesome. Did I succeed?”
He licked his lips. “You’re gorgeous. Untouched.”
Siobhan gathered her courage, for why should she come all this way just to back down now? It mattered not that they’d hardly touched hands during their year’s courtship, that he’d kissed her only on the cheek. She’d waited a lifetime to marry, and she wanted to establish her position from the beginning of their relationship. Women had few ways in which to make a difference in this world, but one of the most potent methods stemmed from God himself—the differences between men and women. A smart woman with a good body could make a man do anything she wanted. Siobhan had seen it a dozen times.
“I want your touch now. I want to walk down the aisle on Da’s arm and have everyone think I’m a maiden, a girl who doesn’t know what life is all about. And I want to look into your eyes and see your knowledge of my body, how I feel, smell, how I fold around that most male part of you. I want to fool everyone in that church except you. I want you to know me in every sense before we pledge ourselves. Take me now, sink deep inside me and introduce me to the life we will share.”
The breath seemed to leave him in a whoosh, and she was swept into the air and braced against the wall. He kissed her feverishly, sliding his lips over hers, fitting them together, licking, nibbling. A swirl of sensation took hold of her. With a moan of surrender, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back, with all the virginal fervor she could muster. Micah seemed to like what she did because he tugged on her satin skirt.
Cool air hit her ankles, above the stylish white high heels she’d purchased just the day before to amaze him. The draft from under the door caressed her calf, then her thigh.
Micah swept his tongue into her mouth, and Siobhan nearly gasped in surprise and feeling. The woman she’d paid earlier this week, the one she’d seen standing on a corner in the seediest part of Boston she could find, hadn’t mentioned the way Siobhan would feel while experiencing all the things Micah would do to her. She’d only described the acts themselves and shared a lexicon of words and phrases Siobhan hadn’t any way of understanding. If the woman had told her, had found the words to warn Siobhan of how she would fly, how she’d soar to the sky when Micah’s tongue tangled with her own, she would have planned better how to maintain control before she lost it all. Now might be too late to wrest things back. Rapidly, her senses were deserting her.
She did gasp when his hand skimmed her thigh, skillfully bypassing her silk stockings and bloomers to find the slit in the material that allowed her to relieve herself. He played, using one finger to stroke the folds of her womanhood. She couldn’t breathe and continue kissing Micah, so she threw her head back against the wall and took air in gulps.
“I have you,” he said. “Unbutton your dress. I must see your breasts.”
He did have both hands under her bottom—her ass, the woman had said, describing one act that Siobhan simply couldn’t credit happening. Just listening had made her blush. With shaking fingers, she reached up and practically yanked the tiny, satin-covered buttons from their loops. When she couldn’t tug the delicate, lace-edged chemise over her breast, she ripped it.
“Oh, God,” he mumbled. “You are beautiful.” Like a babe to his mother’s breast, he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it hard, using his lips and teeth to work it in his hot mouth. She sifted her fingers through his soft hair, holding him close.
And then, quite suddenly, he moved his finger to her passage and inserted it. She gasped in surprise and a moment’s alarm. No one had ever touched her there. Had she been wrong in allowing him this, in practically demanding he take liberties? Then she relaxed slightly. The man was going to be her husband in a matter of minutes.
She thought about his intimate touch and warmth flooded her. It felt quite nice holding his finger inside, not bad at all. But was this as much as she would feel? How disappointing. She squirmed over his hand and his digit moved infinitesimally farther into her body.
“You’re tight, so tight,” he murmured against the globe of her breast, skin that had become so sensitized even his breath sent shivers of delight through her.
“Do it!” She whispered, closing her eyes so as not to see his expression or the look in his eyes when she said the words that now came to her mind as naturally as saying good morning to someone. “I want your cock in my quim.” She felt him stiffen and then relax again. His finger came out, went in, came out, went in. His thumb rubbed just above her passage and sent fireworks through her. This is more like it! Her breath caught.
She suspected how he knew what to do, and it wasn’t from talking to women on street corners. He had actually visited women like the one she’d paid. His experience made it that much easier for her, and she was grateful. But from now on, she would be his whore, the one in his bed every night, capturing his attention with her adventurism and curiosity.
“I can make you feel good with my finger and preserve your virginity.” His voice sounded harsh and strained, as though he could barely gather the mental acuity to speak.
“I want you deep inside when you spill your seed. Isn’t that what truly brands me as yours, that only you have the right to fuck me?” She hesitated, licked her lips, and then forged on. “Fill me with your cum.”
He leaned back, forcing her gaze to his. Instead of looking disgusted, as she feared he might, his expression spoke of hunger and desire beyond anything she’d seen before. “My cum? Who have you been talking to?”
“Isn’t that the right word?”
“Oh, it’s the right word, but it’s not something a lady should know.”
She smiled. “I’ll be a lady at the wedding, and later, with our families. But with you, I’m no lady. Do it.”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t.”
“Please.” That one word seemed to break the dam holding him back.
Without a word, he fumbled with his trousers and pressed forward. Something slid into the opening of her channel, something soft yet hard.
He hesitated. “I’ve never been with a virgin before. But I’ve heard it will hurt.”
Her breath came in heaves. She could barely think. Her body had grown so sensitive, she feared the touch of a butterfly would start her shrieking.
“Then swallow my screams,” she said, and she took his lips, thrust her tongue into his mouth and assumed control.
With one hard thrust, he filled her completely. Pain such as she couldn’t have imagined held her immobile. Micah’s lips were so pliable as he kissed her gently, coaxing her to kiss him back. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. How had the woman left out this part? All the monumental, unbelievable sensations of a moment before fled and left her body hurting in a way she didn’t think she would ever forget.
Then h
e moved, almost all the way out, and back in. A flicker of the previous flame sparked. She tried to relax and began kissing him back. Again he pulled out and pushed in. Something in the way he did it sent shards of pleasure from her core throughout the rest of her. She flexed her hips against his and thought she’d die from anticipation, though anticipation of what, she didn’t know.
“Are you all right?”
“Don’t stop,” she muttered. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she buried her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. With a ferocity that shocked her, she writhed against him, pressing her hips to his, grinding, seeking the answer to a question she didn’t know enough to pose.
Then the dam broke. Shooting stars crisscrossed the dark stretch of her eyelids. Her breath held in her lungs and the world quit moving while her body jerked and contracted and spent itself on Micah’s cock, so deep inside he felt a part of her. A pulsing tapped her inner lining, and though she didn’t understand exactly what had just happened, she knew he was fulfilling his body’s needs as well by sending his seed into her. She carried a portion of him within her now. Nothing was the same as before. Everything had changed. She had claimed Micah Berwick’s body, and in a few minutes she would claim his name.
Moments later, he slid her to the floor. Wordlessly, he offered her a handkerchief. She dampened it with water from the pitcher on the dresser and cleaned herself. For all the pain she’d suffered, only a spot of blood tainted the rest of the discharge she cleaned off her thighs. With none of a maid’s finesse, he attempted to smooth her dress and help with the buttons that would hide most of the damage.