Dark Warrior (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  “Come, beloved!” It was Nicholas’s spellbinding voice and, suddenly, she was there! Burning. Blazing. A streak of fire blazing like a comet across the sky. A shriek ruptured her throat as she detonated in a white-hot upheaval of pleasure that ripped her apart and sent her screaming through the universe, jerking and convulsing uncontrollably.

  Merciless in their ministrations, the demonic fingers working her cunt and ass kept thrusting, the wicked mouths kept suckling. She wailed, a high, piercing sound that ended in a strangled roar as they launched her into yet another explosive orgasm. It careened through her body in wave after wave of destructive, never-ending pleasure. Then, the fingers stilled, held, as her convulsions gradually slowed before finally shuddering to a stop. Fingers withdrew. Heads lifted. Mouths blew torturous breaths across the wet, throbbing points of her nipples. She was still quivering, her entire body tingling in the aftermath of pleasure.

  Nicholas blazed a trail of gentle kisses across her right cheek. “Are you all right, beloved?” he asked. She could only nod, struggling to catch her breath. “I know this must have been pretty intense for you.” His voice in her right ear seemed to be coming from a great distance. “Believe me, it was pretty intense for us, too.”

  Disoriented by the blindfold, witless from the sheer rapture cascading through her, she was unable to respond. Her mind was gruel. Her voice seemed to have wandered off somewhere. She could only breathe in deep, shuddering gasps.

  “Do you wish us to stop?”

  Stop? Her mind snagged on the one word she recognized. Did he say ‘stop’? They were going to stop? Was he mad? She never wanted it to stop. She needed it not to stop. In a panic, she managed to shake her head jerkily. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was smiling. A smile of pure, dominant, arrogant masculinity.

  “That’s my girl,” he said approvingly. “Unless, of course, you’ve had enough…”

  She shook her head vehemently. She could never have enough. Not in a million years. She could hardly wait to see—nay, feel—what they were going to do to her next.

  Rolf moved to brace himself above her. She bent her knees and spread her legs as wide apart as she could. She felt the head of his cock plugging the slippery entrance to her still-spasming cunt, and she moaned. “Merciful God!”

  “Art thou ready to take me, yndling?” he asked.

  She lifted her face toward the sound of his raw, hungry voice.

  “Art thou ready to let me show thee how much I love thee?”

  Nodding jerkily, she emitted a tiny moan.

  “Art thou ready for me to fuck thee?”

  A whimper this time. She nodded again, swallowing hard. Nervous, she licked her parched lips.

  As she held her breath, he thrust himself into her, a roll of his hips driving him deep, deep, stretching her, filling her until she felt his sac tap lightly against her ass. She gave a muffled little yelp as he seemed to swell inside her tight passage, stretching her inflamed tissues almost painfully.

  Blessed Virgin! He was huge! Bigger than Nicholas, if that was even possible. She whimpered, arching her back and twisting her shoulders as if to push him away.

  “Christ, Nick! Her cunt is so tight! I can’t—she’s milking me so hard I may spend before I even get started!”

  “Relax, beloved,” Nicholas crooned in her ear, one hand stroking up and down her goose-bumpy arm. She stopped struggling, holding herself rigid, trying to keep her breathing shallow and even forcing herself to relax. “He’s big, I know. He’s bigger than I am. Give yourself a minute to adjust to him, my angel. And I promise you the pain will turn into more pleasure than you could ever dream possible.”

  Rolf held himself still, not daring to move, trying his best to hold off his orgasm as her body slowly eased its savage grip around his cock. He pulled back out, feeling her tight, elastic muscles flex around him, squeezing him, trying to suck him back in.

  She moaned, moving her head back and forth on the pillow, unable to comprehend the pleasure that was filling her as every inch of his retreat scorched across her tender flesh. She was panting desperately for each breath.

  Nicholas had told her that the blindfold would help her concentrate. Would heighten her ability to feel the pleasure he and Rolf would be giving her. Well, he’d certainly been right about that. Her body was naught but feelings. She was a quivering mass of tingling nerve endings, so jumpy, so raw, and so volatile she feared she would combust into a fiery conflagration that would incinerate them all.

  Rolf surged back into her and she let out a yelp, followed by a deep, shuddering moan. She threw her legs around his waist, lifting her hips into his thrust. She dug her heels into the tight flesh of his buttocks

  “Rolf.” It was barely a whisper, a harsh croak that ended in a whimper of need.

  “Aye, min skat?”

  Reaching up a hand blindly, her fingers found the smooth skin of his bald head, beaded with sweat. The silken feel of it surprised her. She curved her fingers around behind it and pulled him down so his ear was against her lips. “Fuck me, Rolf.” It was a desperate plea in a voice so tight with lust it threatened to snap like a bow string. “You feel so good inside me. Please…”

  By Odin’s beard, he had never wanted a woman this badly in his life. Never! Ved alle guder! His eyes squeezed shut. He was shaking with feelings so powerful he wasn’t sure he had the strength to continue holding himself above her. His throat closed around a lump the size of Denmark. “Yndling—”

  “Please, Rolf. I need to feel you moving inside me. I need you to fuck me.”

  Rolf lifted his head to look at Nicholas, who was kneeling beside his beloved’s head, his hand fisted hard around his cock, stroking it slowly.

  Nicholas met his gaze with a hard, lustful smile. The sight of his best friend, his heart’s brother, buried to the hilt inside his beloved’s sweet cunt, about to fuck her, should have had him insane with jealousy. Should have had him ready to cut the man’s head off.

  Instead, it had him riding an arousal so primitive, so powerful, it was impossible to ignore it. His eyes were glittering wildly, glazed with need and lust.

  It should have felt wrong. It should have felt sinful…shameful. Instead, naught in his life had ever felt more right.

  “Thou wert right, Nick,” Rolf whispered. “’Tis better with someone we love. Much better. She is the most wondrous woman I have ever met.”

  “She is indeed wondrous,” Nicholas agreed, moved to his soul by the force of the love he had for this generous woman. The love of his life.

  Kathryn turned her head toward the sound of his voice. “She can also hear every word you two are saying. And she needs to be fucked. Right now!”

  The men chuckled. “Here, sweetness,” Nicholas murmured, turning her head to face him and curving her fingers around the base of his throbbing cock. “Open your sweet mouth, beloved. Suck my cock.”

  He guided his penis to her open mouth, then let go as she closed her lips around the silken head and began to suck him. Tentatively she rubbed her tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock, exploring the little knot of flesh she found there. Nicholas let out a groan and his cock jerked inside her mouth.

  “More, beloved,” he hissed between his teeth. “Take more of me.”

  Moving her head forward, she took more of his length, marveling at his different textures—the satin smoothness of his cock head, the deep trench separating the head from the shaft, the bulging veins. It was an iron rod covered in hot, living velvet, and it tasted delicious. She inhaled deeply, loving his scent. Musky. Slightly sour. Masculine.

  Christ! Nicholas shuddered, his upper body falling forward to brace himself on his hands on the other side of her head.

  With a grimace of pleasure that was almost agonized, Rolf started sliding his cock in and out of Kathryn’s sheath, long, slow strokes that felt every pulse, every ripple of her fluttering vaginal walls. They gripped and flexed around him just as tightly as the fist gripping the base of th
e cock that was thrusting in and out of her mouth.

  Rolf let out a shuddering moan and began to thrust more frantically, slamming in and out of her dripping sheath. His entire body was rigid except for his pumping hips as they drove his penis so deep inside her she felt it piercing her very heart.

  Blessed Virgin! She loved two men! And they both loved her! She was definitely not going to survive this pleasure. Every cell in her body was violently alive and frantic with need for these two men.

  Nicholas’s hand was gripping the back of her head, holding her still as he fucked her mouth. He thrust his hips, shuttling gently in and out of her mouth as she sucked and licked him frantically with her tongue. He hissed in his breath, teeth clenched, face a mask of agonized pleasure. “Aye, that’s it, beloved. Bloody Christ, I love the way you suck my cock!”

  Gripping him tightly, she tongued hard along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock, sucking him until her cheeks caved in.

  “Sweet Jesu!” he breathed almost reverently, lifting his hand to stroke tendrils of hair off her sweaty forehead. “That is so beautiful, beloved. I love fucking your sweet, sweet mouth.”

  Rising over her, sitting back on his haunches, Rolf grabbed her knees and broke the hold of her legs around his waist, pulling her buttocks up onto the tops of his thighs, spreading her so wide, her muscles were trembling painfully. Rising to his knees, he pulled her up with him, holding her firm, ripe buttocks as he lunged back into her.

  A muffled cry was wrenched from her, as they fucked her toward an orgasm that would be terrifying in its intensity. An orgasm that would surely incinerate her, leaving behind naught but ash.

  It slammed into her with the force of a broadsword bashing a shield, hurtling her up into the heavens, searing her with its heat. She was exploding, every cell of her body shattering into fragments that shot off in every direction before finally coalescing again in a blazing eruption of pleasure. It ripped her apart.

  Within two strokes of her wildly convulsing release, both Nicholas and Rolf were coming, too, their hot ejaculate spurting simultaneously into her mouth and her cunt.

  She was gasping and weeping, tears streaming unheedingly down her face as she eagerly swallowed every pearly drop of Nicholas’s tangy cum, licking it off his cock, moaning as each hot new burst splattered against the back of her throat. Convulsing as each hot jet of Rolf’s seed drenched her rippling sheath, soaking her with its fiery heat.

  For a long moment they remained where they were, bodies straining to wrest every last bit of pleasure from their climaxes. Then, with a groan, both men pulled out of her. She whimpered. Her legs dropped bonelessly to the mattress as Rolf moved to stretch his long, lanky body out alongside hers. Nicholas, still kneeling beside her head, deftly untied the silken scarf, removing it from over her eyes.

  She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. The love she saw there swept the breath from her lungs in a wheezing gasp. Her breath shuddered through her in short, panting sobs.

  Nicholas smiled. “That was beautiful, beloved,” he whispered, wiping the tears off her cheeks with his stroking thumb. “You are beautiful.” He stretched out down the length of her body, putting his arms around her and turning her to face him. Rolf aligned himself along her backside.

  She angled her head back over her shoulder to meet Rolf’s lips in a soul-jarring kiss. His eyes were the color of the deepest ocean and she was drowning in them.

  “I love thee, yndling,” he said in a barely audible whisper. “Jeg elske dig.” His right arm curved over her midriff as he nuzzled his face against her damp neck, kissing and licking her sweat-salted skin. “Jeg elske dig,” he repeated on a sigh, tightening his arm around her convulsively.

  “I love you, too. Both of you.” She sighed blissfully, luxuriating in the feel of two hot male bodies surrounding her, front and back. She had never felt aught like the bone-deep satisfaction she was feeling now. She had never felt so cherished. So completely and thoroughly loved.

  She had just given herself to two men. Two men she loved more than anything else in the whole world. Men she loved more than life itself. And they had just given her the most mind-shattering pleasure she had ever known. And now they were simply holding her, kissing her. Loving her. She had thought she would never survive this. But she had been wrong. Now she knew that she would never survive without this. She needed both of these men. Without them, she would never be whole.

  For several long moments, their sighs and whispered words of love were the only sounds in the room. Then Rolf got up and left the bed. At her cry of protest, he smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. “I will be right back, yndling.”

  Nicholas’s hand came up to cradle the side of her head as he took her mouth in another bone-melting kiss. Kathryn moaned and went limp.

  When Rolf returned, he was carrying two wet cloths. Handing one to Nicholas, he used the other to clean first Kathryn, then himself. He toweled her dry before climbing back into bed. Then he pulled up the fur coverlets. Kathryn lay on her side, Rolf behind her, Nicholas in front. They settled against each other as if they had been doing this for many years. And they slept.

  Chapter Nine

  “God’s blood, Herron, what are you thinking? Have you gone mad?” Arthur Montague, the Duke de Brienne rose abruptly from his chair, scooting it backwards noisily across the stone floor. Restless, he began pacing, holding his chin in his hand, tapping his index finger against his lips. He was an impressive man, tall and angular, dressed in a long brown robe, belted at the waist with a silver link chain. A similar chain hung around his neck. His fashionably coifed, chin-length hair was liberally sprinkled with gray.

  Morgan Fordyce, the Earl of Lyndsley and Peter Bonhomme, the Earl of Fairbourne watched the agitated Duke striding back and forth in front of them. They were sitting at the table in the little antechamber adjacent to Nick’s solar, having just finished listening to his account of Kathryn’s brutal attack and escape from Robert Walford, and the events leading up to their current situation. “’Tis folly to even consider going against Pemberton!” Montague continued, gesticulating wildly. “He’s much too powerful. Let him have the girl and be done with it!

  “No woman is worth the loss of your lands, and possibly even your life. If she’s as damaged as you say, she’ll be no good to you in bed. Cut your losses, I say, and have done with her. Wed someone more suitable. Someone who will give you many lusty sons.”

  Nicholas rose slowly from his chair, hands braced against the table. The ticking muscle in his jaw was the only indication of the powerful effort it was taking to keep his temper in check. “Be very careful, Arthur,” he warned in cold, measured tones, “that the next words out of your mouth bear no further insult toward Lady Kathryn, lest you find me an even greater enemy than Robert Walford could ever be.”

  “So you would go to war over her? A mere chit of a girl? And what if you fail, what then, eh? What’s to stop him from coming after the three of us?”

  “Absolutely naught,” Nicholas said urgently, stabbing his fingertip into the table. “That is why we must stop him now! Together!”

  “Faugh!” Montague sliced the air with his hand. “You ask the impossible! We have our own families to consider!”

  “I am considering your families!” Nicholas countered hotly. “I am your liege lord. You swore an oath of fealty to me. If you do not aid me against Walford and he prevails, you’re next. You, your families, your holdings—he will destroy everything! That’s why we must fight him together, gentlemen. And that is why we must do it now. But that is not the only reason I have turned to the three of you.” Struggling for control, Nicholas pushed himself away from the table, spearing his fingers through his shaggy black locks. “You owe it to yourselves, to your families, to ally with me. Each of you has already lost a beloved daughter to this man. He stole your children from you, my lords. He married them—and now they’re all dead! Is there any one of you who still believes your child’s death was an accident?�
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  As one, the three men lowered their eyes and shook their heads. All the bluster leached out of the Duke de Brienne. His shoulders sagged and his body seemed to deflate like a punctured bladder. “My Elinor was naught but fourteen,” the Duke murmured in a voice suddenly raw with grief. Yanking back his chair, he sank down into it as if the burden were too heavy for his legs to hold him. “The bastard won’t even tell us where she’s buried. Her mother—” His voice broke, his fists clenching in impotent rage as he struggled to master himself. “Her mother is inconsolable, even though it’s gone two years. She walks the halls of Harrowcourt at all hours of the day and night, endlessly searching…”

  “And yet here you are, telling me send Lady Kathryn back to the same monster who visited such grief upon your own family!” Nicholas cried scathingly. “What kind of knight are you, that you would violate your sacred oath and send a woman to her certain death?”

  “I pray your forgiveness, Your Grace,” the Duke de Brienne said in a much-humbled tone. “I overspoke myself. Certes, I would do naught to bring further harm upon this unfortunate young woman.”

  “Then, by all that is holy, let us be the ones to put an end to this man’s tyranny!” Nicholas stood and slammed his fist on the table to drive home his point. “Robert Walford took your daughters, gentlemen. Your houses and lands will be next. Would you sit back and allow him to take England, too?”

  “Nay!” As one they pounded the table.

  “But what can we do against one so powerful?” the Earl of Fairbourne asked. “Most of my knights are with Edward in France. We cannot hope to get them back here in time.”

  “Fortunately for us, that is true with most castle garrisons.” Nicholas grinned, sitting back down and gesturing for Rolf to join them. “In fact, my spies tell me that Walford’s call for his vassals to supply him with an army has met with a decided lack of results. Some households have barely a handful of knights left to defend against marauders. To make up for lack of manpower, he is apparently building over a hundred siege engines—trebuchets, mangonels, catapults—hoping to take us down stone by stone. But we will be ready for him. And with your help, we will take down Robert Walford. Because I have a plan.”