Ray, Helena - Taste of Pride [The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Helena Ray

  Eliciting a bereft whimper, Phil lifted his head and broke the kiss. “We’re so glad you’re here, honey.”

  Just then, Sam stepped back, and Mel took his place caressing her waist. “You can’t even imagine how excited we are.” He punctuated his words with a small thrust of his hips that pushed his cock against her ass. The memory of his long, large dick planted inside her caused a contraction deep in her cunt. Was she that close to coming already? Yes, she thought without hesitation. With these three, her libido kicked into overdrive. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t desired sex that much before. Maybe her body just needed Sam, Phil, and Mel. That was what Chelsea said, wasn’t it? That mates were hardwired for each other?

  She rested her head against Mel’s shoulder, and he planted soft kisses along the side of her neck as his hands encircled her waist. His wet, hot mouth nipped at her earlobe, sending yet another lightning streak of heat flying through her body. Marta hardly recognized the low moan that escaped her throat as hers, so wrapped up was she in the maelstrom of sensations that had flooded her body since walking into the cabin. She tried to look around and get her bearings, but Sam once more scooped her into his arms, thwarting her attempt at orientation.

  Phil walked beside Sam, his long fingers combing through her hair. The four of them crossed the one-room cabin, and once they arrived near the far wall, Mel’s open arms waited for her. Sam gently placed her into Mel’s arms, positioning Marta perfectly for Mel’s kiss.

  “Aren’t you getting a little tired?” Marta asked, wanting to break the heated tension that had settled in the room. “You don’t have to carry me all night.”

  “Oh, trust me,” Sam replied. “We won’t be carrying you.”

  “You need to save your strength, anyway.” The edge in Mel’s voice brought a fresh wave of liquid from deep within her pussy.

  “You’re precious to us, and you deserve to be treated like a princess,” Phil continued as he took her from Mel’s arms and finally placed her on the bed. She took advantage of the opportunity to look around. The peeling wooden walls and wood casement windows with distorted glass marked it as an old cabin, but it had been updated to modern standards, with hardwood floors and track lighting on the wooden ceiling.

  Sam lowered his long form to the bed—or rather, she noticed, two beds pushed together—and stretched out beside her. “Do you like it? Phil and I did it as practice for remodeling Savage Hunger.”

  “It’s amazing,” she replied honestly.

  “You should see the kitchen,” Phil said as he flanked Marta.

  She exchanged a laugh with Phil, but no one spoke. The tension in the cabin escalated, now a tight string that could snap at any moment. She looked up to Mel and saw his blue gaze scorching with desire.

  “Enough small talk,” he said. “I believe we had a purpose for tonight, didn’t we, brothers?”

  Phil reached across her body, took her hipbone in his hand, and used it to roll her to face him. “Yes, we do.”

  What Marta saw in Phil’s eyes could only be described as hunger, plain and simple. The Pope brothers would devour her tonight, and that idea squeezed at her heart, her nipples, and her cunt. “Then let’s get down to it.”

  Sam reached over Marta and rolled her back to him as Phil molded his body against her back. “You’re sure about this, right?”

  Marta almost responded automatically with a nod but stopped herself. This decision, this major life choice, demanded at least one more moment of contemplation. Looking back on her life since she arrived in Savage Valley, Marta realized that she had been more alive, more confident, and surer of herself than ever before. Chasing stories was fun, yes, but the thrill of the chase died as soon as she put pen to paper. What good were her adventures without someone to share them with?

  She wanted to share with the Pope brothers, each one of them. Sam, the brooding, wry eldest, would expect her best, and she would gladly give it to him. She had meant it sincerely when she told Chelsea he was a great boss. Never had she seen someone so artfully manage a group of people while maintaining the highest of standards. And Phil, sensitive and smart, would stay loyal always, and since he was the pilgrim of the pride’s ruling generation, he could accompany her on adventures around the globe. And then there was Mel, the sarcastic rebel, who would always be there to challenge her and make certain she was never bored.

  After all, what was waiting for her in Memphis? Her mother had remarried and moved away, and now Chelsea lived here. As a writer, she could live wherever she wanted and work as she pleased. Savage Hunger had come to feel like home, and the idea of leaving it saddened Marta more than she had ever expected. No, nothing waited for her there. That wasn’t home. This was home. Her men were home.

  “I’ve never been more certain,” she said as she stroked Sam’s cheek with her thumb. “I want this…and you.”

  “You heard her,” Mel said from where he still stood at the foot of the bed. “She’s ready, and we’ve already wasted far too much time.”

  That wicked smile tore across Sam’s face, strengthening Marta’s resolve.

  “Then let’s get to the main event.”

  “What’s the—Ooh…”

  Marta’s words were cut off when Phil’s hand slid over her waist then up, caressing one of her breasts from beneath. He began massaging it, and Marta’s hips began moving of their own accord. Luckily, Sam was there to push a leg between hers, giving her something to rub against and create the friction she so desperately needed. Phil’s hands left her breasts to trace downward, all the way to the hem of her dress.

  “I just want to see you again,” he whispered, pulling the hem upward. As she held up her arms to allow him to slip off the garment, Sam’s warm hands landed on her stomach and rolled her to face Phil. When she lay in front of him clad only in a lacy bra-and-panty set, Phil took a sharp intake of breath as he examined her.

  “You’re beautiful.” His hands traced up and down her figure, following every curve, every dip, every valley and leaving a trail of scorched flesh in their wake. “So fucking beautiful.”

  “Look,” Sam said from behind her, “her whole body flushes when we compliment her.”

  “That is so fucking sexy,” Phil said, just before ghosting his lips over her in a breath of a kiss.

  Her bra popped open, and Marta turned to see Sam, already entirely naked. His blue gaze burned, capturing Marta’s entire being for just an instant before her focus traveled downward to his long cock that twitched under her gaze.

  A droplet of pre-cum gathered on the head, and Marta leaned down, desperate to taste the salty morsel in her mouth. As her lips were about to ghost over the flared head, two hands grabbed her hips and dragged her away from Sam’s exceptional cock. She turned to look backward and saw yet another long, rock-hard prick for her taking. Phil’s cock was also long, longer than anything Marta had thought of taking inside herself, with a wide head and thick veins curling around the shaft.

  “Roll over,” Mel said, lowering his nude figure to the makeshift bed. She complied without debate. While she had been entranced by the expertly chiseled appearance of Sam’s naked body, Phil had moved between her legs, and now he massaged her calves as he spreader her wider, opening him for his taking.

  Mel wrapped his arms around her torso and dragged her back against him, and Marta felt the hard length of his cock bumping against her ass. The sensation brought up memories of that afternoon, when Phil had hinted at their plans to take her from behind. The mere memory of that promise heightened her arousal, although Phil’s fingers tracing over her thighs did nothing to stop her building excitement.

  After what seemed like hours, Phil’s fingers finally swiped over the fabric separating her pussy from her lovers. He rubbed there, and Marta let out an involuntary yelp.

  “God, you’re wet already,” Phil said reverently as he traced his index finger up and down along the length of her slit.

  “Of course I am,” Marta answered in a breathy voice. “T
he three of you get me wetter than I’ve ever been before.”

  “Yeah?” Mel’s stubble scraped against her cheek. “Tell us more. Tell us about how excited you get when we’re around.”

  “I–I don’t even know,” she stammered. “Everything inside me just lights on fire. You’re all three so incredi—”

  A sharp gasp cut off her words as, with one fluid movement, Phil removed her lacy hipster underwear and sank a digit into the weeping abyss of her cunt. Ever so slowly, he moved his finger in and out, in and out, killing her with the excruciating slow pace.

  “More,” she whispered. “I need more.”

  “Like this?” Phil added a second finger and continued his stroking, this time harder but still as maddeningly slowly.

  Marta couldn’t find the words to respond when Mel lifted his hands to her breasts and began teasing both her nipples at once, pinching and pulling them into hard buds.

  “I think she’s enjoying herself.” Mel squeezed harder, and she moaned at the hot sensations that flew straight to where Phil was torturing her pussy.

  “Let’s make sure she has a very good time.” Sam’s hand on her right breast replaced Mel’s, and he quickly lowered his head to take the stiff berry into his mouth. He nibbled, and Marta’s hips pushed forward, driving Phil’s fingers even deeper inside of her to graze against her G-spot.

  “Oh, god,” she moaned as she felt her clit stiffening. “I’m so close.”

  As if taking her words as a challenge, Phil finally quickened his pace at the same time his tongue joined his finger’s ministrations. He laved at her sensitive clit, spiraling her need higher and higher. His fingers left her convulsing pussy, and his tongue took over their fucking, darting into her. The wet heat of his mouth on her already drenched pussy had her coasting at the penultimate plateau of pleasure, dangerously close to her apex. The tiniest bit more would have her there.

  Phil’s fingers returned, and his tongue focused on her clit. At the same time, Mel pinched one nipple and Sam sucked the other between his teeth. Marta was a goner. A ragged scream of pleasure tore from throat as she rode out her orgasm, thrusting into Phil’s mouth and Sam and Mel’s hands.

  Finally, her convulsions subsided, and she began her slide back down to her normal plane of existence. Phil gently withdrew his fingers from her pussy, and Mel and Sam helped her to lie horizontally across the big bed. Sam and Mel lay on either side of her, and Phil pulled himself up to lie on top of her with his head on her stomach. Here, nestled between all three of them, that strange scent—the spicy, musky one—filled her senses again, bringing warmth and comfort and a little bit of arousal already brewing.

  “I think I like the mating ritual.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Sam said, running his fingers through her tousled hair, “it hasn’t even begun.”

  “What?” She tried to sit up, but the three brothers held her to the bed. The idea of fighting them drifted through her head, but as they moved closer to her, that notion faded into the background.

  “It’s begun.” Phil shot a pointed look at his brother. “Just not officially.”

  “You see,” Mel said, his hot breath against her neck, “in order for the mating ritual to occur, our mate must be in a totally relaxed and happy state.”

  “Then I’d say we’re good to go.” Marta snuggled against Mel, and he held her tighter to his chest. On the opposite side of her, Sam sat up and offered a hand to Marta. She looked over at Mel, who nodded, then took Sam’s hand and allowed him to pull her up to a sitting position.

  Once again, this watery blue stare held her immobile, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away around them as Sam filled each sense. His Adonis body was all she saw, his breathing all she heard, his near warmth all she felt, the salty taste of his cum all she anticipated, and that smell—god, that intoxicating aroma—was the only olfactory sense that ever mattered.

  Both of Sam’s hands landed on her upper arms, and his fingers dug into her soft skin.

  “Marta Antonie Verner, my—”

  “How did you know my middle name?”

  In the vacuum of sensation, Sam’s deep laugh sounded even louder, and she felt the rumbling in her awakening pussy.

  “You work for me, remember?”

  “Oh, that.”

  His expression softened, any of the smugness or sarcasm she’d ever seen there gone and replaced by only a burning affection that rolled off of him in waves.

  “Marta Antonie Verner, my beautiful mate.” Everything around them faded to a blur. Only Sam’s face was in focus. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?”

  As he spoke the words, Marta felt a sharp sensation on her upper arms. His nails felt as though they had sharpened into claws and were digging into her flesh. But there was no pain present at all, only a warm, pulsing sensation that fed into the heightened sense of awareness and well-being that had eclipsed everything else in her world besides Sam.

  “Yes. I accept your mating.”

  She didn’t form the words, but they seemed to fly from her mouth as soon as she made her decision. Slowly, a smile began to form on Sam’s lips, pulling just at the corners first then bursting across his face. His long, blond eyelashes lowered over his eyes, and he leaned forward.

  When their lips met, the heightened awareness that had pushed everything but Sam’s face away extended to the sensation of his lips on hers. She felt as each of his facial muscles pulled to suck her lower lip into his mouth and drag his tongue across its surface. He broke the kiss, and in a moment spent suspended in his gaze, everything within her—physical, emotional, and intellectual—underwent a transformation. One by one, her intimacy issues she masked with bravado fell away. The wave of well-being washed through her consciousness, diluting her perfectionism and anxiety about her body until they no longer pulled at her.

  Sam looked away, and the world snapped back into focus. The vortex that had consumed Marta and Sam dissolved, leaving her breathless from its sudden departure.

  “Honey,” Phil said softly, and his long fingers encircled her upper arms. He pulled her to face him and held her other upper arm in his grip.

  Marta let out a small whimper as the same stinging sensation zinged through her upper arms. Again, she anticipated a spark of pain, and again, only warmth, comfort, and excitement emanated from the place.

  “Marta Antonie Verner,” Phil began, and Marta looked up into his eyes. Just like with Sam, all of his features sharpened to the point where she could see every individual hair and every individual pore and every smooth plane of pliant flesh on his full lips. The rest of the world was a blur, not at all relevant to the utopia she found in the crisp blue of Phil’s eyes, and no sound could compare to the ringing consonance of his voice.

  “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?”

  “Yes. I accept your mating.”

  Again, the words spoke themselves, only needing the slightest conscious assent from Marta. She swore she could hear the blood rushing through Phil’s veins as it spilled into the tiny capillaries that cast a red glow along his elegant cheekbones. The muscles in his face twitched as his lips curled into a smile of confident happiness, the most beautiful expression Marta had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

  Phil leaned his forehead against hers, and the hairs hanging around each of their faces tangled together, joining them physically as they had just done spiritually. His nose nuzzled against hers as he kept her captive within his gaze. Without warning, he tilted his chin upward, pressing those full, magnificent lips against Marta’s. Little pinpricks of sensation gathered on her lips as Phil’s feathered lightly over them. He lifted his face, and this time Marta w
as prepared for the instant their capsule of bliss dissolved into the world around them.

  What she wasn’t prepared for was the forceful grip on her upper arm that pulled her against Mel’s chest. She felt the exact instant when his fingernails extended into their clawed form and punctured her skin. By now, the stinging had morphed into pulsing warmth that threatened to consume every inch of her being. Mel crushed her body against his, their faces only inches apart as the same sharpened sensory cocoon enveloped them both.

  “Marta Antonie Verner.” He lingered on each word, his voice as reverent as if reciting a creed affirming his faith in his mate. “I have chosen you as my mate. As such, I will protect you with my entire being, lion and human both. And together, we shall protect the earth on which we live and the beings with which we share it. Do you accept my mating?”

  “Yes,” she whispered with a laugh in her voice, “of course I accept your mating.”

  Mel did not hesitate one moment before closing the infinitesimal gap between their faces. As their lips collided in a simultaneous embrace of teeth and tongue, Marta’s awareness burst into a tangle of synesthetic nirvana. Each swipe of Mel’s tongue became a burst of light, every moan she heard dragged from her own chest a physical tightening inside of her. Never had anything consumed Marta as entirely, taken her from the inside and out. She didn’t realize how incomplete and how dull she felt before she arrived in Savage Valley and before she met each one of the Pope brothers. Even though it still sounded to her like a farfetched fairy tale, she had never believed in anything as fully as she believed in the utter fatefulness of her mating Sam, Phil, and Mel.

  This time, when her mate’s mouth withdrew from hers, Marta fell back onto the bed, overwhelmed by the sheer power of what had happened this evening. As she lay staring at the ceiling, the warmth from the bloodless wounds in her upper arms seeped through her veins, a syrup of happiness that permeated every atom.