Graeme’s tongue slowed, its touch methodically stroking her v-shaped ridge, responding to Lily’s hips which arced under him, offering more and more of herself to his able mouth.
“Yes, that’s it. Eat me out,” she moaned as Conor quieted her by kissing her mouth, his tongue searching for the sweetness of her own.
A moment later, he crawled onto the bed on his knees. He was next to her head now, his cock in hand as he offered it to her. She took it eagerly, tenderly, her hand taking over from his, gently squeezing his shaft as she eased her lips around its swollen roundness.
“This will be inside you in a moment, my Lilliana,” he groaned, knowing how easy it would be to shoot his hot seed into her talented mouth. “Prying you apart and finding its home inside your perfect, tight little pussy.”
He felt her purr, her mouth tightening around him as Graeme thrust his fingers deep inside her once again. Conor’s hand swept lightly over her hard nipples which rose to meet him, firming still more under his gentle touch.
“Come for us,” he growled. “Let that beautiful pussy explode with pleasure. I want it so tight when I fuck you. I want you to squeeze me so hard that I can never leave. Trap my cock inside you, beautiful Lilliana.”
Her hips gyrated as she thrust herself at Graeme’s face, riding his gifted mouth as he ate her, soft lips trapping her clit as his tongue worked in magical pulses against her flesh.
It was the image of their two massive cocks penetrating her that pushed Lily over the edge so that she fell, head spinning, into a beautiful abyss of their making.
Violently she shuddered, Graeme’s hands digging into her hips now as he pulled his face into her, eating at her lush pussy as though devouring the juiciest fruit imaginable. His lips tore at her hungrily as she came, taking in her cream, her scent coating his face as he moaned in delight.
“There, my sweet girl,” murmured Conor as he watched her writhe under their touch. “There, now. I need to be inside you. I need to fuck that sweet pussy.”
She looked up at him and smiled; the smile of a woman who’s just been offered the most beautiful gift in the world.
Those words. Inside you.
Conor lay flat on his back and she understood, climbing over him. His cock, hard and eager, stood at attention as Lily eased down onto it, taking him in slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Good Lord, she was tight, and he could still feel her pussy pulsing around him as her orgasm continued to subside.
Graeme’s mouth licked at her still, from behind now, probing for the opening that his cock longed to explore.
Lily thrust herself down once again, taking in Conor’s swollen broadsword that so wished to be sheathed inside her, engulfing his flesh to the hilt, his every nerve struggling to hold on, wanting to explode inside her.
He lay beneath her, his hands on her breasts, her fingers grasping his as he explored her softness.
“That feels so good, beautiful,” he said, his eyes closing as she thrust her body down upon his hips, riding him hard now. Conor’s brow creased in a deliberate sort of focus as he tried not to come, avoiding looking into her face as he knew that the sight of her would put him over the edge too soon.
Graeme was behind her leaning in, the head of his cock teasing her puckered opening, pleading for permission to enter as his tip penetrated her.
“Yes,” she growled, coming down hard on Conor again. She pulled up and leaned forward, presenting herself to the red dragon, who plunged into her depths with one hard thrust.
Lily felt her breasts against Conor’s chest as his hot body writhed under her, his pelvis ramming upwards, his cock deep inside her now alongside Graeme’s.
“Oh…” She struggled to keep her voice down when all she wanted was to scream their names, to tell the world what was happening, again, inside her. What it felt like to have two cocks so hard for her, pounding her in a rhythm that made her head spin.
But there were no words; this was beyond anything that had ever existed in English or any other language. This was the sort of feeling that music tried to convey; that paintings attempted to show. This was fucking art, and they were the brushes, she the canvas.
She pulled up again, a hand reaching around for Graeme, finding his muscular hip and pulling him into her.
“You like that, my sweet phoenix, don’t you?” he asked in his lilting Scottish accent. “You like being taken from behind. And what a perfect behind it is.” His hand slapped her gently but firmly on the left cheek and she let out a brief yelp of delight as his length plunged into her again, her body closing around his own.
“I love it,” she admitted, her voice in tatters as it attempted to release the syllables. “And I want more, and more, and more.”
They dove in again and again, both men burying their rock hard shafts deep inside her as her muscles convulsed around them, affirming her desire.
“Lilliana…” Conor’s eyes opened and looked up into hers as she laid a hand on his chest. “I need to…to come…oh, God…”
She leaned forward once more and kissed him hard as she felt heat surge through her core, his spray filling her, delighting her, proving his existence, his recuperation, his strength. His life.
This time Graeme held off a little, allowing Conor’s cock to come to rest inside her with a final, hard thrust. Graeme pulled out slowly and then rammed again, his lover’s head flying back in pleasure as the other cock still pulsed, spreading heat in every direction.
“Yes…” she moaned. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
Graeme gripped her hips with powerful fingers and pounded her as she held her other lover inside, his own length a tangle of excited nerves, still pulsing, still releasing its hot seed inside her. Conor was coated in sweat now, glowing with a sort of strength that he’d so lacked only hours earlier.
Finally he came to rest, his body spent, sucked dry inside her. His fingers still stroked her aching nipples as the other man took her over entirely.
Grasping her firmly, Graeme greedily slid her off of Conor’s cock, which was slick with both of their juices, and he invaded her slit, taking over the spot that the other man had just occupied as she offered her round breasts to Conor’s happy mouth.
She was so wet. And so, so tight.
“I want to explode,” Graeme was growling now, his déor getting what it wanted most, the feral nature of his thrusts intensifying. “I’m going to shoot inside you, like he did. You’re going to be full of our sweet seed, Lilliana.”
His arm was around her waist, her legs still straddling Conor as she fed him the round breasts which dangled tantalizingly over his mouth. He squeezed them together, taking both nipples between his lips, tenderly pulling at them as she watched him in awe.
Graeme’s body pulled her backwards magnetically, ramming himself violently into her as she felt his cock surge, pulsing hard, coating her insides once more as Conor’s had done, their heat molten inside her. Raging with her own in a chemical event, like explosives that had come too near a flame.
The thought of their sweet juices mingling inside her made Lily want to fall over in a heap, but instead she simply allowed herself to slide forward, breasts pressed into Conor as Graeme was pressed firmly into her back. She was at the center of the most delectable sandwich anyone had ever constructed, and it was enough to nourish her for eons to come.
13
Under the shroud of illusion that Merriman had cast over the property, Lily spent the next few days enjoying the sort of freedom that had been such an integral part of her youth at Dundurn. She walked alone in the open air, inhaling the atmosphere that seemed to make up this new, beautiful life of hers, which had managed to settle into something like calm. If only for a few days.
Always wary, always on the lookout for intruders into her space. But as long as they stayed away, she allowed herself all the joy and fulfilment that one person could absorb.
Occasionally she was accompanied on her strolls by Conor, or Graeme, or both, and sometimes she left them indoors to
bond over whatever masculine rites they liked to engage in. Most of these involved the consumption of ale (as “beer” was too crass a word for such men, who liked to pretend they were far more sophisticated than your average pub-dweller), and laughter over the vast differences in their eras. The barbarism of the Middle Ages versus the superficiality of the twenty-first century; the ridiculous weight of chain mail versus bulletproof vests.
More amusing to them still were the similarities between their centuries: how little had men and women changed over time, and how little raw ambition had altered. Men still liked to conquer and control nations and land. In their conversations, as in everything else, these two men found themselves on equal footing, neither trying to overthrow the other.
And so their friendship and bond continued to grow, much to Lily’s delight.
As she strolled she recalled the days that her mother, Gwynne, had told her about; the early days of her relationship with Rauth and Lachlan in which the two men fought like, well, dogs. Dire wolf alphas, constantly in a battle for dominance, whether gnashing teeth or not.
A dragon, it seemed, didn’t necessarily possess the same traits as dire wolves. Much as dragons loved power, Graeme seemed even more to be excited by his newfound bond with another man and with Lily herself. There was no indication of a power struggle here, nothing to indicate that he felt threatened by Conor. If anything he seemed to embrace the companionship.
Lily was grateful to have found two men who exuded strength and yet who were willing to accept one another, differences and all. She only hoped that it would continue through whatever trials lay ahead of them.
In conversation one day Graeme had confessed to her that he’d never had a friend; not really.
“My father was, I suppose, my best friend,” he’d said. “But he was my mentor, my instructor. My war-coach. He was all business at times. With Conor I feel as though I have a brother at last.”
These last words had filled Lily with a joy that was separate from the warmth that she felt when the three were together. She and her brother had always shared such a close bond, and she felt complete, knowing that her lovers had grown to care for one another—not in a romantic way, but in such an intensely fraternal one.
* * *
One afternoon, she left them and hiked out to wander towards the woods north of the house, away from the town. She recalled what Merriman a few days earlier, before casting his time-spell over the property:
“A house—a mansion—will, in a few months’ time, be built on a hill east of here. At the moment it does not exist. Keep an eye on it, as the newly-constructed house will serve as a clue to tell you that the spell of protection still holds. If it disappears, that means that our property has reverted to a vulnerable state and that the Stranieri will be able to attack.”
As Lily walked, she noted the new mansion on the hill to her right, still visible, a sign of safety and comfort. A soft mist hid it partially from view, reminding her of stories of Avalon, the magical land that King Arthur had allegedly visited throughout his life. It seemed now like she was in an Avalon of her own, magically pulled away from the world surrounding her, safe, happy and protected from its dangers.
She remembered another thing that Merriman had said: that shifting into their déors was not an option, if the protective shield around the house were to hold. The three were to remain as inconspicuous as possible and employ no special powers if they could possibly avoid it. So Conor’s déor, of course, remained a mystery, and would likely do so for some time to come.
Among other things, this rule of Merriman’s had meant none of Graeme’s use of random floating sex toys during their love-making, though Lily was the first to admit that there was no need of such items when she had such beautiful objects between both her men’s legs.
There had been no sightings of the Stranieri, either by the townsfolk or by the occupants of the house or Merriman. Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who still had access to the house by some trick of the old man’s, had come by a few times and assured them that all had calmed; that the strangers seemed to have dispersed. It seemed that the entity, or organization, or whatever the Stranieri was, was re-grouping in an attempt to sort out how to deal with what the three mates were now referring to jovially as “The Conor Problem.”
The third and now most mysterious of the shifters, Conor had been the real target of their aborted attack, though the reasons remained unclear. Speculation abounded but no one, not even Merriman, had come to a definite conclusion.
Conor was still recuperating, though by all accounts he was stronger than he’d ever been in his life. His body had spread and broadened to such a point that he had to borrow clothing from Graeme in order to accommodate his muscular frame.
But happily, he was still the same beautiful man Lily had first set eyes on in that London classroom, the same inquisitive and amused glint in his eye. Whatever creature stirred inside him had changed none of that.
As she walked, Lily revelled in the feeling of peace. There was, she knew, more excitement to come—and not the good sort. But for now, for these precious hours and days, she was happy to dwell in a quiet, lush green paradise.
On this particular day Merriman had gone off on one of his mysterious errands out of town. Mrs. Fitzpatrick had informed the three of them of his departure that morning while bringing up some fresh fruit and pastries.
Merriman would quite possibly be gone for a few days, she’d told them. And so it seemed that the threesome would stay at the house until his return—they did not want to move on to another destination without his guidance. He was more than a father figure to them; he was a mentor. A sort of alpha in his own world, without the muscles or the brute strength. Merriman’s was the sort of power that came from within and that encouraged reverence.
But it was becoming clear that Graeme and Conor each possessed traits which lent them dominance and the air of leaders, and Lily felt intensely proud of her mates for it. When they left Merriman behind, she knew that they would find their way.
A fresh rain had coated everything the previous night, rendering the already green grass richer, glistening a deep hue as each blade shone under droplets of warm water. The trees were coated in a thin layer of moss, which made the forest seem like a fairyland, and Lily often found herself half-expecting an imp to come hopping at her and tell her tales of unicorns falling in love with elf-maidens.
It didn’t happen, which was probably a good thing as she might have punched it in the face. Imps were well and good, hopping about in fairy tales. But in reality, she pictured little gremlins who begged for a swift kick. The men weren’t the only ones with aggression in their blood, after all.
She wandered farther than usual, entranced by her surroundings and imagining, as she liked to do, the feet that had walked these woods over hundreds of years. Had any of her ancestors ever seen this place? Or was she the first?
It seemed that she was floating out of time and space at the moment, isolated in the sort of bubble which Merriman had created, and unaffected by anything else happening in the universe. But she found her mind wandering to her family, hoping that they were safe and sound, wherever they were. She wished that she could tell them about the men, about her happiness. But everything was meant to lead to a life that she could share safely with them; once they found the source of the Stranieri’s power and took it down, she and her mates could return to her era to see them.
After a time Lily came to a small clearing between ancient trees where she stopped in her tracks, inhaling the scent of fresh air which reminded her of the first hints of spring, and looked up at the sky. Bright blue was breaking through dark clouds, signalling that the rain was finished for now, and Lily extended her arms and spun in a circle, as she had often done when she was a young girl. In the days before she could shift, when she and Rohan were innocent and the entire world was a wonder.
It made her dizzy and giddy at once, this makeshift spin-cycle, and she kept her eyes up, focused on the sky abo
ve. It seemed now that it was the clouds that spiralled and not her, veering in massive circles like a quiet hurricane above.
But the effect was interrupted as some sort of bird flew over, disappearing from sight as quickly as it had come. She slowed her pace in order to steady a light motion sickness that seemed to be building up inside.
As she pulled up, her eyes remained fixed upward, where another bird circled overhead; a vulture or a hawk this time. And then another, and another, until it seemed that a menacing flock hovered over her, assessing her location as though she were a dead animal, carrion for their next meal.
“Looks like it’s time to head back,” she muttered. Inside, something more irksome than nausea worked itself through her. She was sensing it once again, the foreboding impression that had now eluded her for days. A jumbled mass of images invaded her mind, and she knew that once again she was seeing into the minds of others.
This time there were no words; no talk of a “Him.” Simply a silent communication between déors to say that they had located their prey, and an attack was imminent.
14
Lily made her way back through the trees which she’d already passed, her footsteps accelerating as she went.
But, she reminded herself: this place was under Merriman’s spell. If there was protection, why did she need to worry about being spotted from above?
The more she walked, however, the more it seemed as though she were being hunted.
And had been found.
“There you are, dearie.” The voice came from behind her.
Lily turned on her heel. Mrs. Fitzpatrick stood before her, surrounded by lush forest. The older woman seemed oddly foreign in this setting, flanked as she was by the moss-coated tree trunks. She was meant for Land Rovers and baked goods; social gatherings with cucumber sandwiches and delicate china tea cups. Much as she dressed like someone who made a daily habit of riding horses, Lily had never seen her on one, and something inside her told her that this was not where the woman belonged. Not in the least.
Dragon Flight: A Dragon Shifter Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 3) Page 7