Escape, Chapter Fourteen
Conor approached Lily’s outstretched hand and she stroked him, fingers gliding down his front and over the textured abdominal muscles which lay in taut wait beneath his shirt. The fingers stopped only when they reached the button on his jeans, teasing it in anticipation of the revelation that was to come.
Graeme remained before her, one hand on her waist. The other hand brushed across her firm nipples, his coarse palm gliding over the delicate nerves as he continued to study her, to admire the body that he’d so desired. She did not disappoint; not in the least.
Conor in turn reached for her panties, peeling them away just as she reached to undo the button on his jeans. This time, his beautiful hardness wouldn’t be stolen away from her or denied; she would taste him and feel his sweet girth inside her. And the thought thrilled her.
Now Graeme was on his knees, kneeling in seeming supplication beneath the steady stream of water which bathed them both. He sucked hungrily, lips pursed around her right nipple, gentle, loving, as Conor, still clad in his unzipped jeans, helped Lily to ease out of her wet things. When he’d freed her from them, he slid a hand between her legs and moaned with pleasure at his discovery.
“You’re soaking wet,” he said, his voice filled with anguished delight. “And it’s not water.”
“No, it’s not,” she admitted freely. “It’s my need, my absolute desire for you both. I can’t wait any longer.” She meant it; she felt that she would suffocate unless she had them, as though the release would offer her freedom from herself. She would become one with them, and together they would become something entirely different; unpredictable. Unstoppable.
As though tacitly commanding a servant, she laid a hand in Graeme’s wet hair, encouraging him to continue his task as she guided his mouth to her left nipple.
“Yes, suck on it, Graeme. That feels so good, you don’t even know,” she said. Graeme’s hand came up to take her right nipple between thumb and index finger, then skirting his fingertips around it, playing with the pink areola as he sculpted her sensitive tip into a hard point.
“You understand my body so well,” Lily moaned. “As though you were meant to be with me.”
“I was,” he said, looking up at her briefly with his piercing eyes. “It was destined. And had it not been, I would still have fought my way to you, to pleasure you, to caress you, to claim you as my own.”
“Yes, I think you would have,” she said, brimming with a new sort of confidence as her fingers entwined themselves in his soaking hair. “Both of you would have fought for me, and won.”
She turned towards Conor. “Now take off your jeans,” she said. “I want to see you. All of you. Now.”
He backed away and did as she asked, the denim coming loose as he pulled it away to reveal a thick shaft that stood almost vertical with swollen desire.
“For you,” he said, wrapping his fist firmly around his cock and showing her just what effect she had on him. Its tip glistened with want, prepared to enter her, to pierce her and to take her from within until he exploded inside her magnificent, voluptuous body.
Unwilling to delay, he stepped forward and joined them in the large shower. “This is all for you, Lilliana. I’m so hard for you that I might explode.”
She turned her head and kissed him as his cock eased towards her, its head stroking her thigh. His tongue was in her mouth, searing hot and eager, hungering for hers, and she offered it to him as she had done before, greedily taking as well as giving.
Her hand reached for him and wrapped itself around his thickness, her fingertips unable to come together over the girth of the swollen shaft. This, she thought, would be inside her shortly. This glorious, swollen beast.
She turned to Graeme and wordlessly urged him to stand, her fingers under his chin. When he stood tall before him she tilted her head up and kissed him, the faint taste of salt on his lips and tongue from her own hot flesh.
She felt hands everywhere now, exploring her body; on her breasts, her thighs, between her legs, as the two hard forms moved in towards hers, both cocks teasing her flesh, delicately caressing her white skin.
Reaching down, she took them both in hand, her fingers clasped around their hard shafts, massaging them in broad , slow strokes. Her palms cupped around swollen cock heads, taking in their roundness as she cradled them, squeezing gently, teasing them.
For all her inexperience, she felt instinctively that she knew what to do; she knew what would feel good to a man. And she felt them respond, confirming what she already knew with small tremors, veins and nerves pulsing responsively under her touch.
Now she knelt down, water dripping from her breasts and over her shoulders, a hard length in each hand as she glanced up at the two objects of her lust. She turned to Conor’s cock first and softly pursed starving lips around its head, sucking gently at first and then harder, her body aching with need. And then it was Graeme’s turn, as the men leaned down, their large hands continuing to stroke her soft white breasts, their fingers uncharacteristically gentle as they pinched and flicked her nipples, urging her on, each watching, enthralled, excited beyond measure.
Lily could taste the evidence of their desire as well as feel it; a salty bit of delicious juice, just for her. Each man with his own taste, each of them delicious. Addicting. Succulent.
Conor took a mental photograph of her mouth, softly wrapped around him, her lips slowly easing along his throbbing length as he attempted to maintain control. He would have loved nothing more than to shoot his heat into her throat; to let her taste him fully, to show her what she’d done to him. Or to explode on her beautiful breasts, his white cream easing down her flesh, coating those perfect nipples. But no—he had to be inside her. Something told him that he needed that bond; for their flesh to become bonded in the most intimate of ways.
He took the hand that stroked him and pulled her up again.
“I—we—need to take you from within,” he said. “Both of us. As beautiful as your mouth is, I want to come inside your perfect body. I want you to feel it, to know what you’ve done.” He felt her mind then, and in it an explosion of light, as though a flash of chemicals had shot in each direction like a star exploding in a distant galaxy. And he knew that she wanted it just as badly.
“As do I,” said Graeme, breathing heavily, hot water dripping down his chest. “I need to fuck you, Lilliana. I need to feel your body around me.” She loved his choice of the f-word. The harshness of it, the implied need and desperation of those four simple letters.
As though in mental synchronicity, the men lifted her together. Lily, who was facing Graeme, separated her thighs and wrapped eager legs around his torso as he slid her downwards, towards ecstasy. Towards perfection.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes. I want those beautiful, hard cocks inside me now,” she moaned, her voice pleading. “I can’t wait any longer. Please…”
He eased her down with Conor’s help, until his cock head teased her opening. He could feel her slickness on his sensitive flesh, and how easily he would be able to slide in.
“Now,” he gasped, as he sank into her flesh. “Take me in.”
Lily felt her swollen lips pried open as his throbbing length invaded her. There was a moment of resistance, pain even, and then it was as though this was exactly how the world was meant to be: he was inside her, his entire length pushing against her channel walls, his veins pulsing against hers. Her muscles clenched around him, imprisoning him in the most intimate of cells and begging him to remain.
Lily let her head rest against his, her cheek on his stubble, as they lifted her again, and again he plunged into her depths. She cried out in an agonizing pleasure, wondering how her body could take in such a creation, and excited beyond measure to be split apart in such a way.
And Conor was behind her, fingers now toying with her second opening. He rubbed her softly, sweetly, then slipped his middle finger into her and hinted at what it would be lik
e to have them both pierce her.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “Yes.”
Then two fingers were in her, then three, as Graeme pounded her from underneath.
“Invite me,” growled Conor. “Tell that you want to be fucked.”
“Oh yes, Conor, take me from behind,” she said. “Please. I need it. I want it.”
A moment later the fingers were gone, slipped away, and he had his hands on her hips, his fingertips digging into her softness. He guided the swollen head towards the hole that delighted in his touch, and thrust into her as she let out a piercing yell.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned. The sensation was greater than any of her previous fantasies; her entire body—every nerve—was theirs for the taking as they thrust again and again into her, her core infiltrated by their length, their delicious girth.
They lifted her again, and then let her down, her openings filling with their swollen flesh. And again, and again.
Graeme’s head was down as he watched himself penetrate her, and Lily followed his eyes to the extraordinary sight of his massive thickness sliding into her pink slit, soaking him in the juices that her body had created for these men.
“You’ve made me so hard,” Graeme moaned. “So very, very hard.”
Lily kissed him, too enthralled to do anything else.
Conor moved in and out of her at his own pace, sometimes timing it so that he thrust into her just as Graeme pulled out.
“I wish I could see you both at once,” said Lily. “I wish I could watch your faces and your cocks.”
“You’d see two very happy men,” groaned Conor. “With two very happy cocks that are going to explode for you, Lilliana. Do you hear me? We’re going to come inside you, shoot hot, sweet cream for you. Do you want that?”
“My God, yes,” she managed. “So much.”
As he heard the words, he wrapped his right arm around her and let it slide down her front until his index finger found her exposed, swollen bud. He flicked it once, twice, and she felt her muscles convulse with pleasure.
“Be careful,” she said, “Or I’ll come.”
“I wouldn’t want anything else,” said Conor. “I want you to come. I want Graeme to feel your beautiful pussy pulse around his cock. Come for us.”
And then Graeme’s hand followed suit. Each man had one arm propping Lily up, the other slipping a finger over her clit, both choreographed to tease her gently, softly, perfectly.
She watched them work together, their thick forearms in perfect rhythm as somehow they managed to suspend her body in the air and to penetrate her with such delicious fervour. She hooked her left arm over Conor’s neck, twisting her body so that she could hold them both, using her own strength to lift herself and to rock back onto the invading cocks.
Her engorged bud was growing hot now under their touch, and the sensation was nearly too much, as though the orgasm might pass her by without a release. But then it happened: she exploded wordlessly, silently, her eyes shutting tight, and she felt both men gasp as her muscles contracted around them, tightening to an almost impossible squeeze as their cocks, unable to hold off for a second longer, exploded their seed inside her.
Heat sizzled in her core, their juices mingling with her own. One surge came, and then another and another, for a time seeming to grow more intense before finally beginning to subside.
She felt Graeme tense while Conor seemed, under her grip, to loosen, almost to weaken. But he held onto her and he remained in place inside her, kissing her neck, his fingers coming to rest for a moment on her clit before sliding up her belly.
Her lovers eased Lily down slowly, the two shafts sliding out of her body as her feet met the wet shower floor, and silently they bathed her as though having agreed ahead of time that this too was part of the Ritual.
Lily stood as they lathered her silken skin, basking in the glow of what had occurred: the intimacy of it, the splendour.
But at her core a feeling of anxiety raged.
The future—whatever it held—was about to begin.
33
Escape, Chapter Fifteen
The following morning Merriman came to the house, bringing a basket of pastries and fruit. When Lily opened the door to greet him he smiled warmly.
“Good morning, Lilliana,” he said. “I trust that all went well last night?” She thought she caught a quick wink.
“Very well,” she said. “Thank you for this house. Something about it feels very—safe.”
“It’s protected by old magic,” said the man. “Of that you may one day learn a thing or two. It’s not to say that it’s impenetrable, but it is not the easiest place for others to find.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she replied, hoping that he spoke the truth and not some tall tale from some old man’s legend.
“Where are your companions? I was hoping we could have a chat this morning.”
“I think Graeme is wrestling with the shower—that’s his new favourite sport: plumbing combat. But as for Conor, I left him in—rather, I think he’s still in bed.”
“We should probably rouse him. Unfortunately there isn’t a great deal of time to rest. It’s best that we find the enemy before he finds us, and even here you aren’t invincible.”
“Understood.”
Merriman accompanied Lily upstairs and they headed to the bedroom, where she knocked softly on the door.
“Conor?” she called out softly.
When there was no response she eased it open, worried that she’d find a naked man within. The notion of nudity in front of Merriman seemed undignified, despite the knowledge that he too was a shifter.
Conor lay in the bed with his back to her, his shoulders seeming to pulse up and down unnaturally as he took deep breaths in rapid succession. They seemed somehow too frenzied to indicate sleep, fraught with a strange sort of energy.
“Conor!” Lily cried out as she ran to his side of the bed.
He lay still before her, his eyes open. Their many colours had faded to a glassy grey, and his face was pale and beaded with sweat, his hair stuck in wet clumps to his forehead.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Lily, her voice frantic as she put a hand to his face. He was burning up.
“He is changing,” said Merriman. “His body is attempting to accept it. And failing. If he remains in this state for long…he will die.”
* * *
34
Dragon Flight, Chapter One
“No. Please.”
The words escaped through the thin opening between pale lips, sapped of their colour as if in solidarity with the man who lay inhumanly white on the bed, his skin almost translucent.
“Please.”
She repeated the word, though it was nothing more than a useless syllable, aimed at no one. And yet directed at everyone she’d ever known.
For the first time in her life, Lily felt helpless.
And, what was worse: Hopeless.
She stood next to the bed where she’d spent the night with her two lovers—that perfect first night, during which she had found herself engulfed in warmth and affection, surrounded by a wall of masculine flesh on each side.
On occasion she’d drifted into slumber, a hand stroking her bare skin under the covers, idly making its way along soft curves. Fingertips had delighted in their exploration of the body that was new to them. That would remain theirs as long as they lived.
What a thought.
Lily had slept fitfully but happily, waking many times and wanting to pinch herself, to believe, truly, that this paradise was to be her life from this day forward.
And when her eyes had opened just after dawn, she had been at last convinced that in fact yes, this had happened. They were still with her, a smiling man on either side, the hands still eager to touch her, eyes still full of desire to take her in and to prove their own realism.
Perhaps she really was just that fortunate. Somehow, the stars had aligned and Lily had come out the winner of the greatest pri
ze in the history of the universe.
But the elation had ended abruptly only hours later, and now she felt as though one third of her body, of her very life, lay before her, his beautiful eyes open and yet heartbreakingly devoid of sight or life of their own.
The man who had lured her into his world, his soul, in London, was drifting away now. He had found his way through centuries with her not once but twice, her servant and master, her lover. Her mate.
But it seemed so wrong. Just the night before he had made love with her alongside Graeme, the dragon shifter. And it had been an experience beyond imagining.
Made love. What an inadequate expression. Wordlessly the men had opened Lily’s eyes to the world, to affection, to worship, to lust and reciprocity. They had taught her the body’s capacity for sensation and the mind’s gift for insatiable desire.
The three had bonded in the Ritual, and their blood had become one, as was the custom of her kind. Each had gained power. Strength. Skills.
But it was precisely this surge of overwhelming power that was now killing Conor, whose body had not been prepared as his mind had been. For too many generations his ancestors had mated as humans did, and they had lost most of the evolutionary traits that Lily and Graeme possessed.
Conor was a mortal human, like any man who walked down the street carrying a briefcase and considering his mortgage. As much as he’d felt confident that he could thrive as a shifter like Lily or Graeme, his body was proving his theory wrong in the most devastating of ways.
His eyes remained a glassy shade of grey, far from their original dancing spectrum of colours as they failed for once to take in the world around them: the large window overlooking green, rolling hills. The worn dresser which sat opposite the bed, marked by generations of use. The soothing light blue of the walls, offering the room a feeling of peace which was in direct conflict with all that was occurring within its confines now.
Of course, it was perhaps for the best that he couldn’t seem to register Lily’s devastated face, or the look of worry that sat upon Merriman’s as the two stood by, studying him, attempting to come up with solutions that were proving nonexistent.
Seeking Her Mates Boxed Set: A Shifter Menage Serial (All Five Parts) Page 18