Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) (49 page)

He snorted. “We’ll see. I’m not his mate, Ginger—you are. I’m just in his triad. And, honestly, I love working on the water. You should let me take you out there someday.”

She ran her hand down his front. “I’d like that.”

None too gently, he nipped her neck. “I want you, Ginger. Fuck, I always want you. Tell MacAlister you’ll mate with me and you’ll mate with him. I want this to be official. I want to be yours, baby, and I want you to be mine. Let’s triad.”

She hummed with pleasure as his teeth worked on her throat. “This wasn’t the kind of wedding I imagined as a little girl, I have to say.”

“No. It’s better.”

She laughed. The sparrows lifted off their spruce in annoyance.

“I’m serious, Ginger.” He bit her almost hard enough to bruise; she loved it. “We’ll be happy. I’ll make you happy. He’ll make you happy. It will be a good life.”

She sighed with enjoyment as he kissed where he’d been biting.

“I believe you, Hunter. I think so too.”

“One thing, though. Will you love me even if I’m not Alpha?”

“Alpha?” she had to laugh, a little; then she kissed him, biting his bottom lip. “I don’t care, Hunter. I don’t care.”

“Good. Dane can have it. I’m sick of fighting—all I want for now is the sea, and you. I want you. He can have the leadership this year.”

She nuzzled him. He didn’t need a title to be a powerful, influential man, or to have her love.

“You have me, Hunter. You have me.”

“Dane. Riona.”

“Ginger.” He looked up from what he had been doing: speaking with Riona near one of the celebratory bonfires. Up and down the beach, the sound of drinking, fiddling, and roaring driftwood filled the night.

“Hello, daughter,” Riona said, gazing at Ginger. “You killed the seer yourself, I hear. What a braveheart.”

“Thank you,” said Ginger, flushing. “I didn’t really… plan it.”

“No,” Riona said. “But the animal in you knew what to do. You are truly one of us now.”

Ginger’s flush deepened.

“Pardon me now. I will leave you.” Riona stalked away, off to where Torin was sitting alone and drinking homebrew on the shore rocks.

“How are you, Ginger?” Dane asked lowly. “After everything that’s happened today?”

“I’m fine.” She pulled down the sleeves of Hunter’s borrowed flannel, feeling shy; it was silly since the shirt was far too big on her anyway.
Just come out with it.
“Dane, I—”

“You know I love you, darling.”

“I love you too.” She gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to her. His handsome face, gold eyes, and smoked wood scent made her pussy throb. “I came to find you because I want to tell you: I want you to mate me. You and Hunter.”

“Of course. A triad. I already talked to him about it.”

“You did?”

“Briefly.”

“Is this—okay? With you?” She bit her plush bottom lip. “I don’t know why or how but I love both of you, and want both of you, and—”

“You are what you are, Ginger. Don’t be ashamed.” His hands went onto her arms; they felt warm and strong. “I love you as you are. I want to take you as you are. Let’s mate tonight.”

“Tonight? Now?”

“I guarantee you Beaumont doesn’t want to wait.”

No. That’s true.

And neither do I.

The animal in her wanted to bond her mates
now.
Tonight, even, like Dane said.

She swallowed. “Where?”

There was a field nearby, a break in the woods—it shaded in from red alders and yellow cedar to become a sea of sword fern, salal, self-heal, and speedwell, a soft bed beneath the stars.

“We both fill you. I mean by that that we both need to leave our seed in you,” Dane explained, as he and Ginger walked there quietly through the forest. “That’s really the binding moment.”

“You both
have
filled me. Like, already. You came in me, and Hunter’s come in me…”
Dozens of times.
“…more than once.”

“Have we filled you at the same time? In the same place? During a formal mating?”

“No. I guess not.” She could feel herself flushing, even though the new, animal part of her found nothing here to be ashamed of. “So you’re both going to—fuck me.”

“We mate with you.”

“I’m a little scared,” she admitted.

Dane stopped where he was and looked back at her. Since the change, she could see much better in the dark, and she could see his concerned expression very, very clearly.

“Ginger. Darling. It’s just us.”

“I know.” Her neck burned. “I know it is.”

“We love you. Listen.” He pulled her close to him. “All the woman has to do in a triad mating like this is enjoy herself. That’s it, Ginger. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy the attentions of two men who love you and both want to bring you to climax.”

When he put it like that—two handsome, virile men working her over, both of them wanting to bring her to orgasm—her clit throbbed.

“Alright. I guess that’s fine.” She half-smiled. “I
do
want this, Dane. Don’t worry. Come on—let’s go. Let’s mate.”

Hunter was already at the meadow; she realized the men must have arranged this.
They both want this so much. They want
me
so much.

“MacAlister.”

“Beaumont.”

For a moment the men stared hard at each other—glared, almost—while separated by only a couple of feet. Ginger knew that was a dangerously small distance between fully grown grizzly bulls who didn’t like each other.

But nothing happened. There was an electricity between them, a tension, but neither man did anything to provoke the other. There was no outbreak of violence.

Ginger took the opportunity to step in between them.

Something changed, instantly. It was like her closeness to both of them—along with her obvious, melting receptivity; her scent; and the sweet perfume of wild plants and conifer trees—activated their animal instincts to mate. The bears in them took control: they began to touch her, palm her, fondle her. There was nothing more to be said. They were here to seal the triangle, and that was what they would do.

Hunter kissed her with real feeling, a big, strong hand sliding down her stomach; Dane bit her ear, squeezing her pert, plump breast. Hunter’s fingers dipped under the waistband of her jeans; Dane unbuttoned the top closure of her shirt.

They undressed her. It was like nothing she had experienced, so achingly erotic and so gently done that her pussy swelled up like she was in heat. Which maybe she was.

Dane opened her shirt, slowly, deliberately, while Hunter stood behind her unsnapping and unzipping her jeans. When Dane slid her shirt off her shoulders, Hunter pulled her jeans down her hips. Naked, with Dane rubbing her bare, pink-nippled breasts and kissing her, and Hunter kneeling to nip the side of her thighs, she started to tremble. The she-bear inside her wanted them to claim her. Wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything.

I want this. I love them both. I belong to them both, and they belong to me.

The kisses from Dane got thicker, hotter; his hand ran up her neck to tangle in her hair. Hunter licked up her spine, his grip closing on her waist—when he got up to the back of her neck, he bit her and she gasped.

The hand Dane didn’t have buried in her hair went between her legs, his fingers rubbing her slick, swelling folds. Hunter kneaded her breasts from behind, teething harder and harder on the back of her neck.

She’d never been handled like this, by two men at once—and certainly not by two men who loved her so much, or who wanted so much to give her pleasure. Her hips started rocking as Dane pressed a finger inside her. She was so wet that he growled approvingly.

The men were stripping even as they worshipped her, and before long the three of them were naked, pressed close, and biting, kissing, half-snarling—pure animals under the starlight. It felt so right, so natural that all her lingering doubts burned away like tissue paper.

The men got her down onto the ground, down onto the softness of ferns and oxalis and bergamot. She surrendered to them, and to the moment, spreading her legs so both men could reach between them and pleasure her: Dane fingering her—slowly, teasingly—and Hunter rubbing her clit—rawly, hard and fast.

Her hips bucked; moan after moan escaped her; her face and chest flushed. Hunter sucked on her neck as he worked her clit, while Dane kissed the side of her mouth and the curve of her cheek. The delicious, mingled smell of them—smoked wood mixed with salt and pine—made her head spin.

Hunter gripped her thigh, opening her legs even further, and then—she cried out, with relief—sank inside her.

She needed this. She needed to be mated by her bull. The feeling of his fat, veined cock throbbing inside her soothed a need that went too deep to be named.

Biting her juicy bottom lip almost hard enough to break the skin, she humped back against him, her basest female instincts demanding she take him deep. He grunted as they fucked, his thick length shucking wetly in and out of her hot, velvety pussy.

She loved the low, masculine sounds of pleasure he made as they coupled; the thought that he enjoyed her cunt made her flush with satisfaction.
Take me, take me, take me,
she though, all bear and nothing else.
Take me, enjoy me, make me come, make me yours!

As Hunter fucked her, Dane kept kissing her: the side of her face, her mouth, her ear. His hand stayed glued to her jiggling breast, pinching and rubbing the kernel-hard nipple. The fact that one man was fucking her to the hilt while another man was touching her and kissing her made the burning honey of her cunt overflow, coating Hunter’s thrusting cock.

Her hand wandered over Dane’s hard, light-haired body to the juncture of his legs, where his big proud cock was straining, hard as iron. Her hand closed on it, and she fisted him, giving him the best handjob she could with her senses so overwhelmed by the mating. It felt delectable in her hand: hot, vein-chased, and firm as wood, wet with dribbles of pre-come.

It went on like that—her kissing Dane and jacking him, Hunter fucking her savagely—until she could sense that Hunter was near orgasm. His strokes were getting shorter and harder, and his groans were deeper, more desperate. She knew he needed release, and she knew he was close.

“Come,” she whispered hoarsely. “Come in me!”

He slammed deep into her, froze—and exploded. She could feel his bucking cock shooting streams and streams of burning come, and she knew if anyone touched the pink, swollen button of her clit, she would come too.

Hunter pressed his face into her sweat-damp hair, panting. One of his hands closed on her breast, the fingers pressing hard enough to bruise.

It was Dane’s turn.

He slipped into her, as soon as Hunter’s half-hard cock slid out. He thrust deep—as deep as he could, all the way to his balls—and Ginger gasped. The feel of him fucking her messy pussy, despite the hot, gooey mess of Hunter’s come—which was squelching out around his cock and dripping onto the meadow ground—had her eyes rolling up.

While he had her, Hunter kissed her, nipped her, pulled her hair. She thought she might die from all the pleasure. She’d never had so much.

Dane fucked her for a long time, his cock building a fire between her hips. She was dangerously close to climax; it would only take one small thing to—

Hunter thumbed her clit, hard. His calloused finger pad on her soft, blood-flushed clitoris brought the orgasm down like an anvil.

Her pussy seized on Dane’s cock, milking it in waves. She moaned shamelessly, her back arching clear off the ground—and Dane, massaged by the contractions of her climax, came too.

Jets and jets of sizzling come filled her as his big, pulsing cock blew inside her. He groaned, thrusting hard, emptying himself; and Ginger groaned too, her orgasm immeasurably sweetened by the feeling of Dane’s, inside her.

She felt boneless and sweaty and
wild.
She was a she-bear now, and she knew it. Two men’s come dripped lewdly from her pink, soaking pussy—her
mates’
come—and she loved it like she’d loved nothing else before. She was so full of their mingled seed that it drooled out, onto the oxalis.

“You’re ours,” Dane murmured, close by her ear. “We’ve put our Marks on you, with our teeth. You’re our mate.”

“Love you, Ginger,” rumbled Hunter in her ear. “Love you so much.”

She wanted to say something—wanted to tell them she loved them, loved them more than anything or anyone—but the furious sex had exhausted her. She was asleep in moments, her creamy pussy an utter mess.

I’m mated now.

I’m theirs.

She felt only joy, sandwiched between them under the stars.

She woke up in the field and stretched. The sun felt good on her dirty, dozy body.

“M’r’ng,” Hunter grunted, rolling to throw an arm over her.

Affectionately, she nuzzled him—he smelled more like pine and salt than he ever had; it dizzied her, in the best way—and then she disentangled herself from him and rolled over to cuddle close to Dane, who buried a hand in her thick, mussy hair.

“Morning,” he whispered, kissing her full on the mouth. His cedar-y taste lightened her head so much she thought she might just drift away.

This is my life now.

Lucky, lucky me.

Miss Grizzly
burred back toward Vancouver Island at a fast clip, churning water on either side. Ginger stood on the deck with Dane, watching an orca pod cut through the strait like silk.

“Are you happy?” he asked, his arm around her shoulders. “With us? With me?”

“I dunno. Are you happy with me?” she answered playfully.

There was no humor in his golden-eyed answer. “Completely.”

Touched, she rose up on tiptoe to kiss him.
He always tastes so good.

“I’m gonna check on Hunter.”

“Alright, darling.”

She crossed the deck—the orcas were blow-holing off to port—and swung up into the wheelhouse where Hunter was piloting. She draped herself over his shoulders, locking her arms around his neck.

“Love you. How’s the driving going?”