PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Wolf Tango (Threesome Menage New Adult) (Paranormal and Urban Shifter Short Stories)

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  Southbound on the Santa Monica Freeway, the powerful car not missing a beat, Mathew gets the local map and guide books from the glove box and studies the route again. He has the address committed to memory, and now, with only fifty miles to their destination he refreshes it. “There should be a major intersection about ten miles this side of San Diego Josh, approximately 40 miles from here. I will set the sat-nav on the GPS and that will get us to the estates’ private road. I will call them from there as per instructions; we are exactly on schedule so no doubt the call will be expected.” Nodding acceptance, Joshua concentrates on the heavy traffic and Mathew folds the map and returns the documents to the glove compartment. Enjoying the breeze from the Pacific Ocean, the boys wind down the windows. The vehicles’ air-con had received quite a work out on some of the inland highways they had travelled on since leaving New York. The pleasant cruise down the coast alongside the turquoise Pacific had relaxed them both as they neared the end of the long trip.

  “Good morning Sir, I am Mathew Dalgarty from New York, I believe you are expecting us,” Mathew speaks into his Samsung Galaxy 5 mobile phone. “Yes Sir, we are at the estates’ western gate now. Thank you Sir, goodbye.” Mathew puts his phone in his shirt pocket as the ten foot high, electrified security gate slowly retracts behind the concrete pillars. They cruised through and onto the concrete single lane road which disappeared into the heavy woodlands in the distance. The harsh Californian sun dissipates as the enter the heavily forested foothills and the SUV engine takes on a deeper note as it thrusts the big vehicle up the steep inclines. As they broach the crest of a hill and exit the woodland the valley below is presented in full panoramic splendor. What appears to be a replica of a fifteenth century Scottish castle stands toweringly over a man-made lake which is connected to the moats surrounding the castle by two drawbridges. As they approach the western wall the drawbridge is lowered and they drive beneath a portcullis and into a central courtyard. Bringing the big car to a halt near a wide balustrade stairway the two men get out and stretch. “Please follow me gentlemen,” intoned a uniformed doorman. “Bring the gentlemen’s luggage Mason, and place it in the Braveheart suite.” Not daring to look at each other for fear of laughing uproariously at the almost ludicrous situation of a Scottish castle, uniformed livery men and the name of the suite, we follow our colorful guide. “The Laird will join you for lunch gentlemen. If you would like to bathe and dress I will return for you in two hours.” With stylish dignity he backed through the huge double doors, closing them as he did so. “Have we time warped or something?” Joshua chortled, collapsing into a large arm chair beside a fireplace that could have roasted an ox. “Laird, castle, drawbridges and liveried servants, I have never seen anything like this, not even when I visited Europe last year. I hope you didn’t miss the innuendo about our attire being inappropriate for lunch with the Laird. But you knew already you sly rogue, that’s why you had me pack a tux’.” Mathew grinned, “Yes. I was told the old guy is a little eccentric. but don’t sell the man short, he built this from nothing in just thirty years. He is the epitome of a canny Scot and very well respected by our Clan.” We retired to our respective rooms and discovered that huge claw foot baths filled with fragrant hot water had been prepared for us, and as we soaked away the grime of our cross country trek the liveried servants unpacked and pressed our tuxedos.

  “The delegation from New York M’lord,” intoned the butler. Standing aside, he ushered us through into a palatial hall with full length and somberly draped windows and an oak dining table that would have comfortably seated at least sixty people. In full Sots splendor, kilt, sporran, dress sword and tamashanta, our host stood near the unlit open fireplace which housed a spruce log which, if milled, could have built a small dwelling. Towering at least six inches over our own six foot three frames, he came forward to greet us. “You would be Mathew Dalgarty and your companion must be Joshua Connolly, I am Sir William Morris. Welcome to Dunlevy Castle.” Indicating the table which had four place settings at the far end he continued, “Will you share a wee dram with me while we wait for my ward to join us?” Nodding acquiescence, we crossed to the table, and politely waited for our host to be seated before we chose chairs opposite each other on either side of the Laird. “A sherry I think Gibson,” ordered the Laird, and the butler, who had positioned himself near the baranswered, “Yes M’lord, and for the gentlemen?” Mathew raised not an eyebrow, “Thank you Gibson, Mr. Connolly and I will have the same.” Placing three brandy goblets and a decanter on an ornate silver tray he placed them before Sir William. “Thank you Gibson, that will be all,” said Sir William. Gibson backed from the room replying, “Very well M’lord.” Picking up the decanter the Laird poured three very liberal measures saying, “We won’t stand on ceremony lads, please feel free to help yourselves.” A considerate and informed host, he plied us with sherry and regaled us with hunting stories from his youth in Scotland. He was was also a fund of information about the clans, both here and overseas, and how we were connected with each other. Whilst not having met either of our immediate families he knew of them and that both Joshua and I were of royal blood. Smilingly, he admitted to the source of his extensive clan knowledge and of our families. “Dunlevy Castle is the protector of clan history in the Americas gentleman, and I have been the clan historian for almost a century. When I was informed of your names I took the liberty of searching the archives to become better acquainted with my future guests. Ahh, welcome my dear,” This last, to the apparition entering via a door at the far end of the room. Truly a vision of loveliness in a floor length, saffron colored silk gown, she literally glided toward us. She had golden tresses piled high in an ornate coiffure pinned with platinum combs which glittered and flashed as the fine beams of sunlight filtering through the window drapery flicked over them. “Thank you Uncle William,” purred the big beautiful woman. Turning, she bestowed a radiant smile upon us each in turn and in the same dreamy purr continued, “I do apologize for keeping you waiting gentleman.” Leaping to our feet each trying to outdo the other even the usually urbane and suave Matthew was stuttering. “Err yes. I mean no. No, not at all Mam.” Joshua’s mouth was opening and closing but no sound was forthcoming. “Allow me to introduce my Ward gentlemen, Princess Penelope Worthington. Penelope, this is Prince Joshua Connolly and Prince Mathew Dalgarty of New York, They are your escorts to the East Coast.” Obviously accustomed to gallant, and initially tongue tied young men, the princess smilingly requested, “Do sit down gentlemen please, you are so tall my neck is getting a crick in it looking up at you.” Obeying instantly and in unison, Joshua and I sat, neither of us taking our eyes from the most beautiful woman either of us had ever beheld. She was also one of the tallest, even seated; her dark emerald green eyes were on the same level as our own. “Will you take a sherry my dear,” asked Sir William. Pouring his exquisitely divine ward a drink he nudged a small button on the table near his knee summoning the ever subservient Gibson and commanding. “You may serve the soup now Gibson.” Every course was a sensation, Cream of chicken soup with tender grain fed birds from his own flock, stuffed partridge and pigeon, Lamb roasted and basted with mint sauce, a delicate pumpkin pie, a truffle soufflé so light it almost floated into your mouth unaided, and a mulberry pie with a tender crust that melted in your mouth which was topped with pure whipped cream from his own cows that morning. And none of it registered with the boys, they might well have been eating bangers and mash at a jetty on the Thames in London. Wisely sitting back and watching the dynamics between the three young people at his table, the Laird was intrigued by the fact that both Mathew and Joshua seemed equally smitten with his delightful ward, and unless he was grossly mistaken, she with both of them. “Oh to be young again,” he thought, he was going to miss Penelope’s quiet intelligence and far reaching, fireside evening conversations.

  “Sir William, nothing would please me more than to convey your lovely ward to New York but I must first seek acceptance from New York. This is a delica
te and extremely important mission, and we are not authorized to carry passengers. However, I am sure when I inform the clan that she is your ward, obtaining the requisite permission will be a mere formality.” Mathew could not have been more confounded at Sir William’s reaction had he grown two horns on his head. The Laird threw back his head and roared with laughter. Regaining some semblance of control he said, “You had better show them dear.” Also laughing, the statuesque Princess unlaced the top of her gown and lowering it to her ample and milk white cleavage, revealed the clan amulet. The pulsing crimson stone set in circlets of gold lacing was beating in time with the Princess’s heart rate, and so it might, it was intricately and permanently embedded in her breast, a priceless and integral part of her very being. “The power of this amulet is such that it could never be entrusted to mere human hands, the first born Princess of each generation inherits the stone and its power on her twenty first birthday, if she has proved her worthiness. The Princess and the stone are one gentleman.”

  For two blissful and idyllic days the three young people were inseparable. The lake and the moat were full off big brown trout imported from Scotland, and the surrounding hills on the estate were a hunter’s dream of partridge and wild pig, and even red deer from England. Penelope was equally as good with a rifle as the boys, and they were well matched hunting with bows also. On the indoor pistol range she showed that her prowess with hand guns was also excellent. She tried to teach them the English art of fencing but they both failed miserably, neither of them could bring themselves to attack their beautiful opponent.

  Travel arrangements made, and a small trailer designed and built by a local coachbuilder, to hold Penelope’s luggage, attached to the SUV, the time for departure was imminent. With warm invitations to the gracious Laird to visit the New York estates and accept their return hospitality, they took their leave of him and began the long return journey.

  Lounging in the passenger seat Mathew looks over at Penelope behind the wheel and says, “The return trip has certainly been much faster with all three of us driving Penn’, I figure we have around ten hours driving time before arrive home.” The close confines of the SUV, with only occasional stops for fuel and meals and the odd wash in roadhouse amenities, had meant the three were almost in each other’s laps for the last five days and they had become firm and fast friends. “Hey Matty, are we stopping at Rose’s, we must be close now?” Joshua asked from his spread eagled position across the back seat. “I have been considering that and given our current circumstances I am not sure that would be a wise call Joshy, do you?” Penelope caught the short sharp glance Mathew gave Joshua as he answered his question, and her curiosity was piqued. “Who is Rose?” She asked innocently, with a slight twinkle in her eye. “Oh, just a friend who lives out this way,” answered Mathew, much too glibly to Penelope’s mind. “Hmmm, there is more to this Rose than the guys are letting on,” she thinks to herself. “Then I really do think we should stop by, I am sure she doesn’t get to see you guys all that often living away out here in the sticks. Would be a shame to drive right by without stopping in, don’t you think?” She adroitly maneuvers Mathew into muttering agreement albeit hesitantly. “Good that’s settled then, we stop in on your friend and say hello. This will be the first one of your friends I have the opportunity to meet, I am quite looking forward to it,” she adds, with a mischievous grin. She was thoroughly intrigued by the obvious discomfort the guys were experiencing at introducing her to this Rose, which made her all the more determined to discover why. “It is just on the left over this brow,” points Mathew. “Stop at the gas pumps and we will fill up before we go and say hi.” Penelope tools the big car off the shoulder and stops adjacent to the gas pumps. “Josh’ you go tell Rose to put the kettle on for a coffee while I go to the men’s room. Penn’, tell the attendant to fill both tanks please, and then we won’t need to stop again,” ordered Mathew, as he exited the vehicle and headed off in the direction of the wash-rooms.” When he returned, Joshua and Penelope were talking and leaning on the hood of the SUV. “Rose is not home Matty, she has gone into the city for a few days to visit her Father. The girl behind the counter asked my name and when I told her she said Rose had left implicit instructions we were to have a rest in the house if we came back through before she returned.” Mathew’s relief was almost palpable, “There is no need for that we will be home on the estate soon enough now.” But he had figured without Penelope’s feminine whiles. “Oh Mathew couldn’t we please stop for a while? I would kill to relax anywhere but this car, we have been crammed in here for so long.” Giving him a school girlish imploring look Mathew went straight to water, no match for this mistress of the grand social circles of all Europe. Rapidly calculating that it should be no obstacle with Rose not at home, he acquiesced.

  “What a lovely little home,” enthused Penelope as the let themselves in. Rose has lovely taste,” she said, examining some antique china in a glass display cabinet in the lounge room. “Oh yes,” agreed Joshua. “She is also an extremely talented seamstress. She sewed the heavy drapes on her bedroom windows too didn’t she Matty?” Arching an eyebrow Penelope teased, “And what were you two doing in the lady’s boudoir gentlemen?” Joshua blushed scarlet as he realized his faux-pas. “Oh brother,” muttered Mathew under his breath. “You are obviously proud of your friend’s curtains so you must show them to me, where is the bedroom, through here?” Penelope opened the adjoining door and walked into Rose’s bedroom. Mathew shot Joshua a filthy look as he followed her through the door, a chastened Joshua bringing up the rear. “Josh’, be a pet and run me a hot bath would you please, I so need a long soak in feminine surroundings.” As Penelope was luxuriating in Rose’s bathtub Mathew and Joshua watched a ball-game on TV. “Could somebody bring me a towel please,” called Penelope, there doesn’t seem to be one in here. Fossicking through the hall cupboards Mathew found a large soft bath towel and knocked on the bathroom door. “Just bring it in,” Penelope called through the door. Mathew opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. The statuesque beauty was standing knee deep in the bath stark naked, every inch of her perfect alabaster athlete’s body on display. “So you going to bring me that towel or just stand there gawking all day Prince Mathew?” In a dazed stupor, unable to take his eyes off the full curve of her rounded stomach where it disappeared in a triangle of platinum curls at the apex of her shapely long thighs, Mathew walked robotically toward her, Towel held out in front of him like some medieval shield. “Do you like what you see,” asked Penelope? Mathew can only nod his head up and down. “Then show me dammit!” Commands Penelope. Jerked from his torpid stupor Mathew lunges for her, trips, and falls fully clothed into the fragrant bubble bath. His spluttering and coughing brings Joshua in from the lounge to see what is causing the furor and the entire scene is almost repeated action for action, only he doesn’t fall into the bath tub. “I thought you were into me guys, what do I have to do here? Do you require me to send you an engraved invitation?” Her words galvanized them into action, tearing off their clothes in a frenzy of tangled limbs they both stand in the tub and embrace the beautiful Princess, Mathew sucking her hugely erect nipples and Joshua nibbling her earlobes as he stroked her inner thigh. Arching her back, she opens her legs and Mathew licks down her stomach, through the platinum curls and parting her swollen mound with his big hands he sinks his hot tongue inside, lapping at her hardening clit. Her feminine moans change to an almost a guttural growl matching the men in timbre and tone. Grasping Mathew’s hair she drags his tongue deep, grinding her sweet smelling pussy hard against his masculine chin as she begins to fountain her hot wet love juice into his wide open mouth. Standing, Mathew pulls her close and tipping her head back slides his tongue, still covered with her juice, deep inside her mouth. From behind, Joshua reaches around and massages her now iron hard nipples with his fingers, and his strong cock rams between her legs where he strokes back and forth across her tight asshole. Penelope reaches down and grips Mathew’s fully engorg
ed cock in her hand and guiding it to her soaking wet pussy impales herself on it and in one long, hard, viscous thrust engulfs it completely. Placing her hands around his neck she hauls her legs high around his waist, and gripping tightly, frees one hand and reaching behind her grasps Joshua’s pre-cum soaked dick and places the head on her small tight asshole. Totally devoid of any social niceties and so completely out of control, he drives his powerful hips forward and his steel hard cock rips into Penelope’s grinding asshole. Instantly there is a shimmering blur in the ether and she morphs into a biting clawing seven foot Warrior Werewolf. Almost simultaneously, first Mathew and then Joshua also morph. Gnashing teeth and fully exposed 6 inch claws bite and scratch and the three sexual Werewolf Warriors each take what they need from each other in complete abandon and crazed depravity. Working in unison the men attempt to subdue the fighting she wolf, but in her completely erotic trance-like state she bucks and heaves, then drives herself onto their cocks again and again. Suddenly, as Mathew withdraws and Joshua enters the now saturated and wide open pussy, Mathew drives forward again and he and Joshua both enter at the same time. Their huge engorged cocks rip Penelope wide open and she sinks her teeth deep into Mathew’s shoulder as Joshua bites viciously at her neck. Savagely they drive into her, again and again and again. Screaming and roaring they climax. Exposing her throat in total submission the she-wolf is wracked with massive orgasms as the males erupt deep into her belly. The friction of Joshua’s cock sliding against his own thrusting dick deep inside the she-wolfs belly intensifies Mathew’s orgasm, and his mind blanks to everything, the pain of gnashing teeth, his whereabouts, the massive ejaculation has a mind of its own and just seems to go on and on forever. Joshua’s arms grip Mathew’s shoulders as he also climaxes. Shuddering the entire length of his body, his hands in an almost death lock on Mathew’s shoulders, he grinds his hips against Penelope’s gyrating pelvis and empties a massive load all over Mathew’s shrinking erection and sprays Penelope’s insides with white, hot creamy thick cum. Collapsing in a sweating, slippery heap into the warm water, the three morph back and just lay there. The water turns pink from the multitude of bite and claw marks. “I’m sore,” a soft feminine voice speaks from somewhere between the boys torsos. “Me too,” echoes Mathew. “Make that unanimous,” splutters Joshua, as he inhales a nose full of soap bubbles. “Can you guys please get the hell out of my bath-tub,” squawks Penelope. The three of them collapse again, this time in paroxysms of post coital, almost hysterical, laughter. Sitting up again, they tenderly tend each other’s cuts and contusions and enjoy the camaraderie as they bathe together. Totally unselfconscious with each other now, they all realize some intangible milestone has been reached, passed, and left far behind. Silently, they gently treat each other as new wounds manifest themselves. Washing each other and carefully tending to swollen and battered bodies the aura of love is almost palpable. Man washing woman, woman washing man, man washing man. Incredibly intimate, and transcending all human emotion they just “are”. Not three individuals, but a single entity of love and caring and giving. No words are spoken; there are no thoughts, just the combing, washing, caressing and kissing of some of the more serious wounds. They were just three virile, healthy young animals taking care of their pack. Carefully patting each other dry they troop into Rose’s bedroom and naked, curl up together and are instantly asleep.