by Lee Savino
I’m shaking when he lets me go. Saint is there, touching me with caring fingers, offering me a glass of water.
“You ready, girl?” he rumbles, and I nod. He helps me up onto the table, lays me down on my back with my head hanging off, cradled in his hands. Slowly, he presses between my lips. The guys around us murmur in awe as I swallow Saint’s monster like I’ve been trained. “Fuck,” someone mutters. Maybe Tommy, or Roy. They’re in the corner together, stealing secret kisses while I share my body with the rest.
Saint glides in and out, plumbing deeper with each stroke. A touch between my legs makes me jump.
“Easy, girl,” Saint soothes. Someone’s leaning over me, strumming my clit, urging me to climax. Saint bows over me, palming my right breast, then my left,
Then I’m dreaming, suspended in time, as the twins come and clean me with soft washcloths. Saint strokes my hair, murmuring, “Good girl.” Mason brings a blanket, and Lincoln lifts me in his arms, and carries me to his room where we’ll sleep. I close my eyes and let it go, because I’m not worried about missing anything now. Tonight is not the end of my time with the lumberjacks.
It is the beginning.
Epilogue
Sierra
“I can’t believe you’re a mother.” The blond guy on the computer screen laughs and shakes his head.
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “Our mom would be grandmother. Can you imagine that?”
“She’d hate hearing that,” the second guy says, leaning in front of his brother so he can see me. “She always made us call her Lynny. She’d probably make her grandkids do the same.”
I roll my eyes, chuckling with the two guys. The Skype connection stalls for a second and I switch to the chat bar.
Losing connection. Maybe I can visit next Christmas. You can meet your niece.
That’d be great. The message pops up in the chat box, even as the image of the two guys freezes. Just in case they can still see me, I wave before I sign off.
“So they’re your brothers?” Oren asks. He’s sitting on the end of the table, working on a new carving project. His foot is propped on his last project, a beautiful cradle made from one giant piece of wood. He moves his foot absently, making the cradle rock, even though there’s not a baby in there.
“Half-brothers. They’re down in New York state.” I close all the applications and shut the computer down.
Elon looks up from his knitting. He’s got a large ball of yarn in the softest pink. I don’t know what he’s working on now—there’s nothing more my daughter needs. He’s already knit a hat, blankie and tiny sweater. “You’ve never met them, right?”
“Nope.” That’ll change. I want my daughter to know her family. I rise and head toward Saint’s room. The door is cracked, so I knock.
“Enter.” His deep voice reaches every secret part of me. I open the door and stand with the computer cocked on my hips. The big man is perched on the edge of his bed, boots planted on the ground, pink blanket spilling over his shoulder. One giant hand hides my daughter’s lower torso. The other rubs her back. Nothing better than a big, beautiful man holding a baby. My ovaries sigh at the sight.
“She awake yet?”
“Nope.” Saint cranes his neck to check on her. I set the computer down and creep around to see her peaceful little face. As soon as I see her, everything in me relaxes. I can’t believe something so perfect came out of me. We did good, Jack.
My daughter’s lips pucker into a little heart when she sleeps.
“You can put her down,” I offer. “She’ll stay asleep. Or if she doesn’t, I’ll feed her.”
“I’m good,” Saint says, and nods to the computer. “Did you like your gift?”
“Yes, thank you. I don’t know how you found them. You work in mysterious ways.”
Saint chuckles. “That’s not your only gift.”
When I raise my brows, he jerks his head toward a nondescript box next to him on the bed.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Another birthday present. We’ll use it tonight.”
I search his midnight dark eyes, my insides tingling. I’ve found the best sex toys come in bland packages.
“Better go rest up,” Saint says. “I’ll hold this baby. You take a nap. Later, you’ll need it.”
With a shiver and smile, I tiptoe out. Lincoln should be in his room.
Today was my birthday, and the guys went all out. In addition to all the baby stuff, Elon made me a matching sweater. Oren gave me a wood carving of a lithe little fairy holding a tiny blanket-bundled baby. Lincoln gave me a down coat and trapper hat made of faux fur. Roy and Tommy added to my music collection, and Mason gave me a new speaker system. Saint ordered me books and chocolate, and got the Skype connection to my half-brothers.
The guys made a chocolate sheet cake with a ganache topping too slick to stick a candle in, so they stacked biscuits into a pyramid and stuck candles in that instead.
I already have plans to express my gratitude. But first, Saint’s right. I need my rest.
When I get to Lincoln's room, he’s sitting propped on the bed, stroking his beard as he studies a report. His shirt is open halfway. When I knock lightly on the door, he turns to me and opens his arms.
“Did you enjoy meeting your brothers?” he asks, as I snuggle against him.
“Yes. I promised to visit one day.”
“Good plan.”
“I have no idea what to tell them about us. All of us.”
He shrugs. “You’ll think of something. I’m more worried about what you’re going to tell Riley when she gets old enough to ask why she has seven dads.”
“I’ll think of something,” I say, and yawn. I’ve already got an idea what I’ll tell my daughter, inspired by some of the books I’ve read. As Lincoln wraps his arms around me, his beard tickles my cheek. I burrow into his hold and close my eyes to dream of the story…
Once upon a time, there was a young woman who ran from a bad man into a forest. The way was long and hard, but she soon came to a camp of lumberjacks living in the deep, dark woods…
Acknowledgments
A huge ‘thank you’ to Maggie Ryan, who agreed to edit this reverse harem despite what I put her through with my first reverse harem, Pearl’s Possession. You can thank her for this book having a plot.
Big hugs to my author friends, especially Aubrey Cara, who thought of this Hard ’n Dirty ‘men at work’ theme. To Stasia Black and Renee Rose, who gave me regular pep talks and kept me going. To my mom and sister for babysitting frequently. My husband and son, who offer hugs and breaks and laughter—you make it all worth it.
To Nanette and all the Goddesses who cheer me on, and all the readers who buy my books and allow me to love my dream.
And my new bebe girl, who napped and played quietly while mommy watched lumberjack documentaries and typed furiously…
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Sold to the Berserkers
Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers
A ménage shifter romance
By Lee Savino
The day my stepfather sold me to the Berserkers, I woke at dawn with him leering over me. “Get up.” He made to kick me and I scrambled out of my sleep stupor to my feet.
“I need your help with a delivery.”
I nodded and glanced at my sleeping mother and siblings. I didn’t trust my stepfather around my three younger sisters, but if I was gone with him all day, they’d be safe. I’d taken to carrying a dirk myself. I did not dare kill him; we needed him for food and shelter, but if he attacked me again, I would fight.
My mother’s second husband hated me, ever since the last time he’d tried to take me and I had fought back. My mother was gone to market, and when he tried to gra
b me, something in me snapped. I would not let him touch me again. I fought, kicking and scratching, and finally grabbing an iron pot and scalding him with heated water.
He bellowed and looked as if he wanted to hurt me, but kept his distance. When my mother returned he pretended like nothing was wrong, but his eyes followed me with hatred and cunning.
Out loud he called me ugly and mocking the scar that marred my neck since a wild dog attacked me when I was young. I ignored this and kept my distance. I’d heard the taunts about my hideous face since the wounds had healed into scars, a mass of silver tissue at my neck.
That morning, I wrapped a scarf over my hair and scarred neck and followed my stepfather, carrying his wares down the old road. At first I thought we were headed to the great market, but when we reached the fork in the road and he went an unfamiliar way, I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.
“This way, cur.” He’d taken to calling me “dog”. He’d taunted me, saying the only sounds I could make were grunts like a beast, so I might as well be one. He was right. The attack had taken my voice by damaging my throat.
If I followed him into the forest and he tried to kill me, I wouldn’t even be able to cry out.
“There’s a rich man who asked for his wares delivered to his door.” He marched on without a backward glance and I followed.
I had lived all my life in the kingdom of Alba, but when my father died and my mother remarried, we moved to my stepfather’s village in the highlands, at the foot of the great, forbidding mountains. There were stories of evil that lived in the dark crevices of the heights, but I’d never believed them.
I knew enough monsters living in plain sight.
The longer we walked, the lower the sun sank in the sky, the more I knew my stepfather was trying to trick me, that there was no rich man waiting for these wares.
When the path curved, and my stepfather stepped out from behind a boulder to surprise me, I was half ready, but before I could reach for my dirk he struck me so hard I fell.
I woke tied to a tree.
The light was lower, heralding dusk. I struggled silently, frantic gasps escaping from my scarred throat. My stepfather stepped into view and I felt a second of relief at a familiar face, before remembering the evil this man had wrought on my body. Whatever he was planning, it would bode ill for me, and my younger sisters. If I didn’t survive, they would eventually share the same fate as mine.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Just in time for the sale.”
I strained but my bonds held fast. As my stepfather approached, I realized that the scarf that I wrapped around my neck to hide my scars had fallen, exposing them. Out of habit, I twitched my head to the side, tucking my bad side towards my shoulder.
My stepfather smirked.
“So ugly,” he sneered. “I could never find a husband for you, but I found someone to take you. A group of warriors passing through who saw you, and want to slake their lust on your body. Who knows, if you please them, they may let you live. But I doubt you’ll survive these men. They’re foreigners, mercenaries, come to fight for the king. Berserkers. If you’re lucky your death will be swift when they tear you apart.”
I’d heard the tales of berserker warriors, fearsome warriors of old. Ageless, timeless, they’d sailed over the seas to the land, plundering, killing, taking slaves, they fought for our kings, and their own. Nothing could stand in their path when they went into a killing rage.
I fought to keep my fear off my face. Berserker's were a myth, so my stepfather had probably sold me to a band of passing soldiers who would take their pleasure from my flesh before leaving me for dead, or selling me on.
“I could’ve sold you long ago, if I stripped you bare and put a bag over you head to hide those scars.”
His hands pawed at me, and I shied away from his disgusting breath. He slapped me, then tore at my braid, letting my hair spill over my face and shoulders.
Bound as I was, I still could glare at him. I could do nothing to stop the sale, but I hoped my fierce expression told him I’d fight to the death if he tried to force himself on me.
His hand started to wander down towards my breast when a shadow moved on the edge of the clearing. It caught my eye and I startled. My stepfather stepped back as the warriors poured from the trees.
My first thought was that they were not men, but beasts. They prowled forward, dark shapes almost one with the shadows. A few wore animal pelts and held back, lurking on the edge of the woods. Two came forward, wearing the garb of warriors, bristling with weapons. One had dark hair, and the other long, dirty blond with a beard to match.
Their eyes glowed with a terrifying light.
As they approached, the smell of raw meat and blood wafted over us, and my stomach twisted. I was glad my stepfather hadn’t fed me all day, or I would’ve emptied my guts on the ground.
My stepfather’s face and tone took on the wheedling expression I’d seen when he was selling in the market.
“Good evening, sirs,” he cringed before the largest, the blond with hair streaming down his chest.
They were perfectly silent, but the blond approached, fixing me with strange golden eyes.
Their faces were fair enough, but their hulking forms and the quick, light way they moved made me catch my breath. I had never seen such massive men. Beside them, my stepfather looked like an ugly dwarf.
“This is the one you wanted,” my stepfather continued. “She’s healthy and strong. She will be a good slave for you.”
My body would’ve shaken with terror, if I were not bound so tightly.
A dark haired warrior stepped up beside the blond and the two exchanged a look.
“You asked for the one with scars.” My stepfather took my hair and jerked my head back, exposing the horrible, silvery mass. I shut my eyes, tears squeezing out at the sudden pain and humiliation.
The next thing I knew, my stepfather’s grip loosened. A grunt, and I opened my eyes to see the dark haired warrior standing at my side. My stepfather sprawled on the ground as if he’d been pushed.
The blond leader prodded a boot into my stepfather’s side.
“Get up,” the blond said, in a voice that was more a growl than a human sound. It curdled my blood. My stepfather scrambled to his feet.
The black haired man cut away the last of my bonds, and I sagged forward. I would’ve fallen but he caught me easily and set me on my feet, keeping his arms around me. I was not the smallest woman, but he was a giant. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, but he held me carefully. I stared at him, taking in his raven dark hair and strange gold eyes.
He tucked me closer to his muscled body.
Meanwhile, my stepfather whined. “I just wanted to show you the scars—”
Again that frightening growl from the blond. “You don’t touch what is ours.”
“I don’t want to touch her.” My stepfather spat.
Despite myself, I cowered against the man who held me. A stranger I had never met, he was still a safer haven than my stepfather.
“I only wish to make sure you are satisfied, milords. Do you want to sample her?” my stepfather asked in an evil tone. He wanted to see me torn apart.
A growl rumbled under my ear and I lifted my head. Who were these men, these great warriors who had bought and paid for me? The arms around my body were strong and solid, inescapable, but the gold eyes looking down at me were kind. The warrior ran his thumb across the pad of my lips, and his fingers were gentle for such a large, violent looking warrior. Under the scent of blood, he smelled of snow and sharp cold, a clean scent.
He pressed his face against my head, breathing in a deep breath.
The blond was looking at us.
“It’s her,” the black haired man growled, his voice so guttural. “This is the one.”
One of his hands came to cover the side of my face and throat, holding my face to his chest in a protective gesture.
I closed my eyes, relaxing in the solid warmth of the warri
or’s body.
A clink of gold, and the deed was done. I’d been sold.
Sold to the Berserkers
When Brenna’s father sells her to a band of passing warriors, her only thought is to survive. She doesn’t expect to be claimed by the two fearsome warriors who lead the Berserker clan. Kept in captivity, she is coddled and cared for, treated more like a savior than a slave. Can captivity lead to love? And when she discovers the truth behind the myth of the fearsome warriors, can she accept her place as the Berserkers’ true mate?
Sold to the Berserkers is a standalone, short, MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman. Read now in the Berserker Saga (on sale now):
Sold to the Berserkers
Also by Lee Savino
Free book at www.leesavino.com
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