Sanibel Heat -Werewolf Menage Page 9

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he maintained eye contact and lowered his face to hers. With deliberate licks, he cleaned her chin. Her walls clinched as she fought not to run her hands through his wavy hair. The corner of his lip lifted, as if he understood the effect that his tongue had placed on her body.

  Jayce sat on her other side. Hip against hip, thigh against thigh, it was sensory overload. Too much testosterone, too many men, and too many sensations, she was going to explode.

  “How long have I been out, this time?”

  Jayce answered, “Approximately ninety minutes. We would not have woken you if you weren’t in need of nourishment. It hasn’t escaped our notice that you are on the thin side.”

  Tatum almost choked on her second bite of melon. “I haven’t worked out in forever, there isn’t a firm muscle left in my body.” Not that it matters, she wasn’t going to do a strip tease for them. When morning came, she was out of there. Did she say them?

  “You are soft.” Jayce cupped her face. “Just as a woman should be. After a few, or maybe twenty, more pounds, I’ll be better satisfied with your health.”

  Troy hadn’t wanted her broader than a beanpole. “That would indicate that we have a relationship in progress, we don’t.” She reached for a piece of bread, only to be stopped by the Bren. With slight pressure, he gripped her wrist until she dropped the bread onto his hand.

  “Allow me.”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  Bren’s eyes flared. “I’m intimately aware of the women whom you are. However,” he looked pointedly at the bread, “I will be feeding you, tonight.”

  “Has anyone ever told the two of you that you’re weird?”

  Jayce had to clinch his jaw. If any of his pack had spoken in that manner, he would have ripped their throats out and handed their mate the trachea. “You’ll eat from our hands, one, or the other, maybe both…depending on our mood, depending on the situation.”

  “Is that so?” With her mouth agape, Bren could squeeze in a piece of cedar-planked salmon. She couldn’t help it; the salmon was delicious, and she hummed in satisfaction. They were rich aggressors and used to getting what they want. She considered the b-line that she was going to make for the door.

  “What’s on your mind, honey?” Jayce drawled. “I insist on open communication for this to work. This,” he paused, “would be our relationship. No,” he stilled her protest with his fingers against her lips. “No more arguing, no more games, and no more objections that just get us all riled up with sexual energy, or didn’t you know that was what you were doing to us all along?”

  She gasped, and Bren thrust a piece of steak in her mouth. He tapped the underside of her jaw, forcing her to chew. “That’s right,” he interjected. “We’re going to marry you, Tatum. I confessed my love for you on the balcony, before you passed out in ecstasy, remember?”

  She was speechless.

  “Not to worry, I’ll be refreshing your memory, momentarily.” He nipped her ear and plied her mouth with a delicious bite of couscous filled with glazed pecans and dried cranberries.

  Funny thing about the nip, it felt like a warning. Tatum continued to allow Bren to feed her. She was hungry, confused, and thoroughly aroused. She felt ashamed for it, guilty about two enormous heartthrobs that were sitting next to her, rubbing against her, touching her in all the right places while feeding her as a goddess. It had been so long since she was treated well, so long since she felt this kind of comfort. She relaxed against Jayce’s broad shoulder. He was still wearing his tuxedo shirt and pants. Obviously, it was tailored made to fit his large frame and extremely expensive. She couldn’t imagine his net worth, didn’t want to. That part made her feel inferior. She was divorced and laden with bills and an all so struggling business.

  Jayce met Bren’s eyes. Their mate was relaxing against his body and eating from his best friend’s hand. It wasn’t demeaning; she wasn’t a child. Feeding her was an endearment of respect, love, and inherent trust. The trust that they needed to establish with her if she were to continue in their world, and that was definitely going to happen.

  “I can’t eat another bite.” Tatum pushed the third spoonful of watermelon and feta salad away. Whoever prepared that meal deserved a serious high five and a load of praise. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  In mere seconds, he and Bren took quick bites and finished the tray. She tensed as Jayce reached for her zipper.

  Jayce ignored her tension and set to removing the monstrosity of a dress. He’d fought not to do it, since she walked the aisle, “Hold still, no point in getting shy, now. We know your delicious secrets.” He pushed her hands away, as Bren scooted the tray against the far wall.

  She glanced around the enormous suite. “This looks like a hotel.”

  “It’s your home, now.” Jayce kissed the back of her neck, as he slid the dress down. The dress hadn’t allowed a bra, and her nipples puckered in the cool air. She quickly covered them with her hands. “You’re shy, again?”

  She looked down. Not believing what was happening and ignoring their words of future promises.

  “I’ve worshiped you with my hands and tongue. My body has been inside yours. What’s left to be awkward about?” Jayce massaged her nape, as Bren sat in front of her. He reached for her arms and gently, with restrained force, pulled them astride.

  “Stunning,” he murmured in reverent awe. “I always fantasized of you this way: naked before me, willing to please me in all ways. You‘ve surpassed my expectations. I‘m amazed.” He brushed her nipples with flattened palms, “Truly perfect.” It had taken only a moment, before he ascended onto her tightened peaks. They were rosy, flushing, and standing at attention.

  She maintained her downward cast. Even, though, Bren expected a subservient disposition in the bedroom, he scented her embarrassment. “Penny for your thoughts,” he pinched her chin and forced her to meet his blue-eyed gaze.

  “They’re not perfect or perky,” she blushed. That b-line for the door appeared better and better.

  Jayce groaned behind her. “Tell me you’re seeing what I think you are.”

  “Oh, I am.” Bren pinched and upwardly pulled her large areolas and gave them a slight shake, “Heavy, natural, largely tipped and more than a handful. Not too perky, which makes them," his mouth watered.

  “Perfect.” Jayce finished.

  In one swoop, her dress was off, and he carried her to an adjoining bath. Her panties had been lost on the chaise, and the brisk air hit her square between the thighs. Totally exposed, Tatum followed Jayce's predatory gaze, as he studied her most secret places. She closed her eyes and buried her face against Bren’s chest. It was covered with the softest, black t-shirt that framed his muscled chest to perfection. He smelled masculine, earthy, and wicked.

  Bren scented her arousal overriding her embarrassment. One look at Jayce confirmed his acknowledgment. They wanted inside of her, yesterday. Not with a sexual need that anyone could fill, this need was purely animal. Their wolves needed to claim her, provide for her needs, and mark her as a warning against others. Their human sides needed to love her, make love to her, and cherish her forever. Marriage was just a legal formality the claiming and marking were permanent. She may have divorced Troy, but that would on no account happen in the world of werewolves. Their bond, after consummation, would never be broken. A broken bond would kill them all, and it had happened only once in the wolf community - years ago, which left their friend a shell of an animal, a shell of a man.

  Jayce started the shower with a thought. Steam flowed around an open tiled enclosure styled in Mediterranean perfection. “It’s the size of a gym shower,” she gasped. “Of course, it looks and smells better.”

  Bren’s smile was radiant. “I’m glad you approve of your bathroom. There’s a dressing table in the far corner. You can primp until your heart’s content,” he brushed her lips with his and lowered her to the tile. “I need you to acknowledge what you’ve been told.”

  “About?”
>
  “Marriage and this being your home,” Jayce was unbuttoning his white, pleated shirt with nimble fingers. His golden-skinned hands had worked his belt buckle, before he paused on the clasp. “Bren asked you a question.”

  It was stillness. The blue of his eyes and the stance of his body intimidated her. It was the same night, years ago, when he wanted to make out with her. He wanted something, wanted her. She froze in uncertainty. Not because he wasn’t appealing, he was more than appealing. She was afraid to touch him, reluctant to acknowledge her feelings for him. Did she want to take that chance, again? Did she want to watch his broad back walk away from her and out of her life for the final time?

  She was stark naked with two semi-clothed men towering over her. Staring into their faces, she saw the passion, the need they had for her. They? “How does this work?”

  Their faces lit up. “We get married, have kids, and live happily ever after. You know the drill.”

  “No, I don’t,” she whispered.

  “Shit.” Jayce placed his fists on his hips, as he cursed his insensitivity. “I know you’re in a bad place, right now. Although, I promise you, it will be a fairy tale with us, the kind that every girl dreams of.”

  She had to smile at their efforts, even if she didn’t believe a word of them. Bren reached over his head and tugged off his shirt. In an instant, his pants were gone, boxers still on. Jayce, on the other hand, was very naked. Of course, he would go commando. She sucked in a breath. “I could make a fortune off of calendars if you guys would pose for me.”

  “We’ll pose for you, alright.” Jayce strode for her, his legs making short order of the floor. His naked body embraced hers, heated flesh on heated flesh, “all sorts of poses, one, in particular. You're on your knees while Bren is taking you from behind.”

  “Why Bren?” she asked, embarrassed.

  “I want to watch your heavy, swinging breasts beat the mattress to a pulp.” With that, he threw her over his colossal shoulder and headed for a shower that could house a city bus. Bren left his boxers on, and she didn’t question it.

  “Every time I like a girl, Troy Hillman gets his hands on her. But you,” Bren seared Tatum with a heated stare, “were supposed to be different.” A snarl left his lips.

  Chapter 8

  The water was the perfect temperature. Being lowered down the front of Jayce’s body was a slow, sensual feast, and her body appreciated every ridge that rippled beneath her. The bulge of his muscles gave way to lush concaves that she wanted to dip her tongue into many times. Bracing her hands on his narrow hips, she blinked the water out of her eyes to meet his own. They were filled with something she used to see in Troy’s: Love. However, she couldn’t believe that. They were in her head, killing her with need, and she didn’t know how or why. She could never stop this, even if she honestly wanted to. Maybe, she could feel guilty tomorrow.

  Bren met her wet back with his tense, exceptionally defined chest. She was taller than most women were; however, the top of her head barely met their shoulders. “How do I go from having only one…man, uh twelve months ago to two?” How would any women handle two men of their size? Earlier, she had braved a peek at Jayce’s erection. It was formidable, intimidating and turned her on.

  Bren reached both hands around and soaped her breasts. Jayce watched in fascination, totally enthralled at the sight before him. Her areolas had to be at least four inches across, rosy brown and weighed to perfection. In his sexual life, especially his football career, Jayce dealt with plastic breasts. Women pumped themselves up and thought they looked fantastic. Some did, most did not. Much better was the feel of a real breast in his hand, he gently squeezed the gift before him, nothing could compare.

  More than that, nothing could compare to a true mate. He could climax with any women, not that he ever wanted to, again. His Tatum, she jacked him up to epic proportions. His tight, accustomed control was slipping. With every feminine sigh that left her plush lips, he wanted to empty into her womb with a savage hunger. The mating bond had already begun. His voice was raspy. “Honey, that’s not for you to worry about. It’s up to us to take care of you. For once, just feel. Stop thinking, especially about the past, stop worrying, stop avoiding, and stop denying your feelings. We’ll never hurt you.”

  Bren turned her and slanted his mouth across hers with a hidden purpose. He was flushing out her desire, drip by drip. If she thought, she could hide anything from them, mentally, emotionally or physically, she would be punished. Jayce was soaping her back and had reached her heart shaped bottom. Thankfully, she had curves. Curves he needed. Curves he could grip, bite, and sink into.

  He certainly was a biter.

  With his large hands, Jayce lifted her from behind and spread her legs for Bren. Of course, she squirmed, fought, and exhibited a telling blush. She would have to get past that. Bren rinsed the extra soap from the cloth, as not to burn her sweetness, and went to work on her most private of places, her beautiful pussy. “Hold still, Tatum.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Feeding me dinner, I let that slide. Washing me there, it's private.” She closed her eyes.

  “Is it?” Jayce tightened his hold, so that Bren could finish. They could subdue her or use mind control. Unabashedly that would make her a mindless puppet, and that would never do. They wanted her without the use of supernatural coercion, as well as her unconditional trust and love.

  “Yes.” It was a shaky whisper. She was relaxing now, as her body was giving up the fight. Earlier, she had been stressed from the wedding, sated with her first orgasm in over ten years, and well fed; her body began spiraling with a swarm of untouched feelings and pampering that she wasn’t accustomed to. Even if it were all for sex, at that moment, she didn’t care.

  Bren hid his grin, as he touched the cloth to her sexy, puckered rosette. She arched her back and shot daggers with her eyes. “Almost done,” he breathed. He met Jayce’s eyes; they agreed. She had never been taken there. The glory of it all, she had a virgin ass. The beauty of it was not that she would be tight, because she would have to be loosened for them, anyway. Actually, the beauty of it all was the innocence. No one had introduced anal sex to her and with that thought; his dick pulsed with pre-come, wanting to be first.

  Total surrender would come when she gave them everything. Since no one had taken her sweet, soft behind, he and Jayce would be able to crack her emotional wall and tear it down with swift, heated efficiency. “I didn’t get a good look at you on the balcony.” It was a lie because he had supernatural eyesight. “I’m lost in your body, beholden to your every need. You’ll let me serve those needs and my own, right Tatum?”

  She was confused. Was that a question or a command?

  “Answer the question, honey,” Jayce tightened his large palms under her knees, and further spread them.

  Her thighs were wide open in front of Bren’s face, as he waited for the answer. The moment was awkward and somewhat demeaning; she didn’t get what he was saying. She wanted him to move on, so she said what she thought he wanted to hear, “Sure, Bren.”

  “Thank you, Tatum.” Intently, while maintaining eye contact, he lowered his mouth. She thought she knew where he was going, she clinched. Troy never licked her core. He didn’t want to get his mouth dirty. In return, he made Tatum feel uncomfortably vile. Her anticipation warred with her insecurities. Bren could see everything. The lights in the shower were brilliant, and Jayce wasn’t giving up his secure hold, didn’t seem to tire of lifting her, either. With a startled gasp, her body shook when his tongue fought for an opening against her anus.

  “I can’t do that,” she breathed.

  “Can’t you?” Jayce whispered in her ear and nibbled at a sensitive spot on her neck. “It’s just his mouth, honey.”

  “But…oh,” Jayce was nipping at that spot between her neck and shoulder, again, while Bren was finding the entrance inside her faintly relaxed back hole. His tongue, more experienced than anything had a right to be, stroked the interior of her t
ight ring with even thrusts. In and out…repeatedly, how could it feel this way? Sweat beaded her forehead, as she closed her eyes to the upcoming orgasm. Just as it was about to hit, he stopped. Tatum opened her eyes in confusion. They registered on Bren’s impassive face.

  “It’s time to finish up our shower and get to bed.” Bren reached for the shower gel and scrubbed himself. His wolf had snarled at the first taste of Tatum. They were at a standoff, he and his beast. From the beginning, Jayce had been concerned with the aggression of Bren’s wolf, which was one of the reasons that he was not a Beta. Short of foaming at the mouth, he was certain that he had given all the necessary warning signs to Jayce. His best friend had lowered Tatum and stood between them as a buffer.

  Not giving her a second glance, Bren walked under the faucet. Tatum watched the suds trail Bren’s back, as they met the dimples above his firm ass. Strangely, he had remained in his boxers, even though they molded to his backside. He was a human sculpture in need of a pedestal and a spotlight. Yeah, women would pay to see that. Although she was dumbfounded since, she could not understand his abruptness. Was it due to second thoughts?