The Beckoning of Bravelicious Things (The Beckoning Series Book 3) Page 15

  Rafe and River continue to rock against my legs. They each let out a loud groan, spilling their seeds against me.

  Daniel lets out a dark laugh. “Isn’t she incredible?”

  Rafe and River are speechless, fallen warriors against my sides. Their hands rest against my parted legs. Their noses nuzzle the sides of my face, each of them whispering their devotion to me, their undying love. I don’t know what to say—I’m completely overwhelmed.

  “She’s a life force for us all,” Daniel says.

  “She’s a sacred jewel,” River murmurs in my ear.

  “A treasure beyond compare,” Rafe says. “One whom I intend to keep safe.”

  “As will I,” River adds.

  The room, illuminated by my light, grows still and serene. All I hear are the sounds of our breathing. Eyes closed, I smile, arms around two alpha males.

  “Awake,” Daniel commands. “You’re not done.”

  We all jerk free from our blissful repose.

  “I think our kitten needs oral stimulation, Sanguis Numen. With your tongue. She’ll busy her pretty mouth with your cock, Stealth Numen.”

  Both cocks twitch back to life, instantly hard.

  “Do I get a say in this?” I ask, lifting my head to glare at Daniel.

  He ignores me, lifting his half-smoked cigar to light it again.

  River crawls between my legs. Rafe climbs over the top of me, straddling my shoulders. I’m instantly uber-aroused, silky fluids preparing the nest for entry.

  Rafe guides his deliciously pink cock toward my mouth. “Here you go, darlin’,” he says. “Have fun.”

  “You’re such a whore,” I say, glaring at him.

  “Yep, I am. And you love it. You can’t get enough of me.”

  “Bastard.” He’s right.

  “Well, you can’t get enough of me either.” I narrow my eyes.

  “Quit talking and start sucking, darlin’,” he says, eyes glinting.

  I seize his balls and squeeze. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  He laughs, leans his hands on the headboard, his cock dangling at my mouth.

  As I run my tongue along the head, River spreads my folds with his large hands, tugging at the golden chains in the process, and sweeps his tongue along my tender flesh. My body jolts, my hands wrap around Rafe’s erection, and I pull it into my mouth. “Mmm.”

  River licks me ardently, his adoration and enjoyment evidenced by the growls and moans of pleasure he’s making. He slips his fingers inside me, licking me, nibbling my clit, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth.

  My climax builds like a bonfire until I’m afraid I’m going to chomp down on Rafe.

  He senses it, too. “Easy, darlin’, I’d like to keep this thing.”

  I release him from my mouth and lift my head.

  River’s pumping his erection furiously, his tongue lashing me. His left hand fingers my canal in a come-hither gesture, searching for my G-spot.

  I return my attention to the assassin whose sensitivity is in my grasp, soften my mouth, relaxing into my enjoyment of him…for just a moment at least, until River finds The Spot. He’s got me thrumming with electricity, heat, passion, a maelstrom of sensation. My hands clench Rafe, working him vigorously, while my mouth sucks him, my tongue licks him, and I’m about to…and he’s about to…we’re all about to come. We launch into orgasm, three souls shooting toward climax like comets.

  Light flares and dances around the room. Cries and moans of pleasure fill the space. Our combined energy sends me rocketing, vibrating, like I’m aimed toward the edge of Earth’s atmosphere in a fiery explosion. I wonder if I’ll lose consciousness. Instead, as I fall back from climax, a strange thing happens. I’m literally bursting with life force, glowing like a beacon, ecstatic sensations pouring through my body. My light illuminates River, who’s slithered up next to me. It dances along Rafe, who’s collapsed on my other side. Instead of feeling spent, I’m hungry, buzzing with erotic, ecstatic waves of pleasure. And there’s only one man left who can feed me now. I lift my head and direct my attention toward Daniel. “Come here,” I growl. “Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “But only because you’re ready for me now.” He laughs, stubs out his cigar, and stalks across the room.

  He’s such an arrogant man.

  Chapter 16

  Daniel wastes no time in stripping. He pitches his pricey clothes in a heap on the floor before crawling toward me like a lion.

  King of the Jungle, I think.

  King of your heart, he responds. “She’s mine,” he states to Rafe and River. “I’m the one who’s shared her with you.”

  I should be feeling pissed by this show of testosterone, but there’s something so feral, so wild, so essential about this claiming that it makes me hotter than hot. No one’s challenging him. No one’s beating his chest in protest. There seems to be only consent in the room, in me, in River, in Rafe. All the color of my light fades, replaced by a searing white hot combustion. “I am yours, Daniel.” My eyes burn into his. “I’m Rafe’s and River’s and I’m definitely yours.” I jab Daniel’s chest with my dino-stone adorned finger. “No more argument. No more bickering.”

  “What’s to fight about? I think we’re all in agreement.” Daniel positions himself between my legs. When he gets uber-aroused his body lights with a crystalline, blue-violet light. Right now he’s flashing and flaring like a peacock he’s so turned on. He lowers on top of me, positioning his hands between River, Rafe and me.

  I slide my hands under their necks, caressing their arms.

  Daniel grabs his cock, pushing it up and down my swollen pussy a few times before sinking deep inside of me.

  “Oh, yeah, baby. Oh, yeah. You feel fantastic,” I say.

  River and Rafe rise to the occasion, rocking into my sides.

  Daniel pumps into me, entering, withdrawing, coaxing my fire even hotter. He kisses me, plundering my mouth with his. He claims me again, oh, God how he claims me. And this time I accept, fully conscious, utterly aroused.

  River and Rafe each have a hand on Daniel’s back. They’re drawing their hands up and down his skin while rocking into me. They’re each nibbling my shoulders. My fingers are touching, tugging, caressing, pulling whatever I get my hands on.

  Daniel’s thrusts grow stronger. His mouth grinds into me, his stubble scratching my skin.

  I’m insane with pleasure; power, joy and love are overflowing in me. A minute ago I couldn’t imagine experiencing greater bliss than I experienced with Rafe and River, but this…this strange combination, three deadly males surrounding me, loving me, is incredible. I ride the waves of pleasure as long as I can before falling into ecstatic orgasm, coming around my soul bound lover.

  He follows suit, thrusting, spilling his seed inside of me. “You’re mine,” he roars.

  “Yes, Daniel, yes.” I laugh, scream, and shout with joy and bliss. “I’m yours --definitely yours.”

  We finally drift to sleep, all of us, nestled on our huge king-sized bed. King-sized bed for king-sized hearts, I think, dreamily nestled beside Daniel. Rafe’s snoring next to him while River’s asleep on my other side. I’m now truly ready for the challenges ahead. I think we all are. This has been the bonding of bondings. And I have my soul bound lover to thank.

  You finally got that right, he conveys, before slipping into the land of demons and dreams.

  Chapter 17

  Armando sits in his custom reclining chair at the sleek desk in his remote hideaway in southern California, the gleaming marble, granite, wood, and wool of his surroundings ignored. The crashing waves below? Doesn’t spare them a glance. Elegant, pricey art on the wall? Doesn’t notice it. His sole focus? Move my fucking arm. “Christ. What’s become of me?” The words slide out the corner of his mouth since the right side of his face droops like a piece of old leather. “I drool like a baby, have to be fed from a spoon, I piss into a plastic jug held by a butt ugly nurse…my goddamned, fucking wife, Gabriela…she’s th
e one who did this to me.” Except she isn’t his wife any more, is she?

  Rage boils in his gut when he thinks of her and that fucking piece of grade-A tail, Marissa Engles. He’d done everything he could to prevent her from finding his son. And now? She kicks ass, his son holds far too much power for his own good, and Gabriela…his fucking soul bound wife, has broken the bindings and has nothing to do with him.

  He uses his left hand to pick up his useless right arm and drop it on the desk like a dead fish. “Plop,” he says with a snarl. “Come on, you fucker, move!” He wills it to move. He relaxes and tries to baby-talk it to move. Nothing. He seizes a vase of flowers from the corner of the desk with his left arm and hurls it across the room before jabbing the control-com. “Nurse! Get in here at once and clean up this mess!”

  When Nurse Ratched…that’s what he calls her…when she opens the door he flashes a grim, sarcastic half smile. Sturdy bitch. She looks like a linebacker. Shoulders as wide as a refrigerator. Solid, chunky body. Mean as a snake. Gabriela had chosen her before she’d exited his life. He could have let her go, but she’s someone to argue with—at least she has that going for her. And she’s strong enough to carry him into the room to deposit him in his chair for the day. Goddamn it all to hell.

  “Hey, ass-wipe,” she says, her brown wavy hair bobbing around her face, her block of a blue and white, cotton-clad body squeezing through the doorframe.

  “Nurse Ratched,” Armando coolly replies. “Your lipstick is smeared. Makes you look like a clown.”

  “Liar. My lipstick’s fine.” She leans down to pick up the broken glass and flowers. “That was the last nice thing anybody gave you. Don’t expect any more.”

  “I thought you got those flowers for me,” he says, half grinning.

  “Shit. You think I’d buy you flowers? Get real. I’ll be back with paper towels and a broom. Stay put.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Oh, right. You’re paralyzed,” she answers, flipping him off as she tramps out the door.

  “Fucking bitch.”

  When she returns, he growls, “Get me that viewing device. And call my brethren—we need to meet.”

  “You’re like the Ku Klux Klan, you know that?” She says, sweeping the glass into her dustpan and emptying it into the waste bin.

  “They’re a bunch of pansies.”

  “Whereas you’re a ruby red rose,” she responds with a snort. “You’re nothing but carrion—a pathetic piece of useless meat.”

  “A pathetic piece of meat who pays you very well,” he retorts.

  “Yeah…maybe. You keep my babies fed, that’s for sure.”

  “Who in the world impregnated you? A cow? Wait—a whale?”

  “You motherfucker,” she replies. “Watch yourself or there’s no food for you today.”

  “Oooh. I’m scared. Now get me what I ordered.”

  She gives him a crisp salute and marches out the door.

  She returns a few minutes later, slamming the viewing device on the table and letting him know that his posse will arrive shortly. She places both palms on his desk, then, and leans forward. “Will there be anything else, boss?”

  “Stay close, bitch. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  She stomps out the door and slams it, making the bookcase vibrate.

  Armando opens the Kindle-like viewing device and punches in a few lines with his left hand. He has to peck laboriously with one finger. When the correct scene comes up, he turns it sideways and stares at it.

  A few minutes later, his crew of three stomp in, throwing the door open without warning, trench coats swirling around their bodies.

  “Goddamn it!” Armando yells. “I wish you’d at least knock.”

  “Why should we?” Morton the Black Conjurer says. “You knew we were coming.”

  “Because it’s the courteous things to do.” He waves his one good arm at them. “Grab a chair. Sit down. Look at this.”

  The three hulking males plunk into wooden chairs and lean forward around the desk.

  An angry looking male missing an eye peers at the scene. “Yeah? So? It’s the underworld your son commands.”

  “Look closer, Freddy. They look hungry. He hasn’t been feeding them or tending to their needs. He’s been too busy with his bitch.” Armando seems pleased.

  The male retrieves a pair of steampunk eyeglasses, positions them on his nose, and squints. “Yeah. Hungry.”

  “Let me see,” Morton says, grabbing the device. “Yep. They look mad, mean and starving.”

  The third male, a quiet, bespectacled, bald man known simply as the Schemer, says in a raspy voice, “How fortunate for our team. Ah, how love makes a man sloppy in his obligations.”

  In the dim light, the beasts pace and snarl, growl, yip, and yelp, restless. Two Maimers launch at one another and tear at their barbed necks until one lays dead. His attacker settles down and takes big-fanged bites, his teeth crunching down on bone, his powerful jaws shaking free muscle and organ meat.

  Shredders slink around the outskirts, circling the bloody creature, whimpering and salivating. The boldest lunge at the meal, keeping the Maimer in a frantic state of defensive anxiety. He attacks the interloper, then races back to guard his dinner, growling.

  “That’s harsh,” Morton says, chuckling. “When predators eat their own, that says something.”

  “Yeah,” Armando says, reaching for a silver cigarette box. “It means my son hasn’t been keeping up with his duties.” He extends the box and each man helps himself. Armando jams his in the left side of his mouth and mumbles, “One of you guys, light this for me, will you?”

  “Where’s the lighter?”

  “In the drawer.”

  Morton seizes the gold lighter from the desk drawer and lights his and Armando’s cigarettes, tossing the lighter on the desk for the others to use. “Okay, so we have one thing going for us. That’s our backup plan. That’s if the main plan doesn’t go down.”

  “Oh, it will, trust me,” the Schemer says, sucking hard on his smoke. “Where’s your ashtray?”

  “Over there, on the windowsill,” Armando answers, puffing on his cigarette. He removes it from his mouth, resting his hand on the viewing device and tapping a button. Ash flickers onto the screen. He blows on it and the ash wisps into the air. “We’re still working on the basic premise, right?”

  “Roger, that,” Freddy says. “Get that succulent little thing free from her male protectors and they’ll fall apart. I’d like to have my way with her before we dispose of her, you feel me?”

  “Yeah,” Morton says, an evil laugh escaping his mouth. “Let’s take turns. She’s got two lovers, why not five?” He slides the ashtray toward him, lightly hitting the smoke against the edge, and sticks the burning tobacco back in his mouth. “Or, six,” he says, acknowledging Armando’s glowering face.

  “But let’s say, something happens, and we fail. You know how to get down there, Armando?” He pokes the screen with a pudgy finger. “Can we, like, open the door and shove them in, sealing it shut?”

  “There’s not exactly a barn door, idiot,” Armando says. “More like the sliver of a secret opening that we’d have to find and pry open. It’s not easy, but I think I can manage, yeah.” He gives them a disparaging look. “With your help.”

  The men nod, deep in private thoughts.

  “Okay, so we have plan one, and the back-up plan…I think we’re ready,” Armando says. “Once I get all that power back, damn…” he says, flicking the ash free from the end of his cigarette. “I’ll restore this fucking body and get back to business. You three will be at the center of the circle—you’ll be my core advisers. Damn,” he says again. “It’ll be great to be back. The first thing I’m doing is getting me some bitches and heading to Brazil for some R and R.”

  “Count us in on that plan,” Morton says, stubbing out his smoke. “I could use a fuck or two. I’ve been in a dry spell.” He thrums his fingers on the desk. “So…it would be a shame
to off the Light Rebel, don’t you think? What if we let her live…you know, so we could use her. She’s a pretty little thing.”

  “I don’t care what you do with her, to tell the truth,” Armando says, waving his cigarette in the air. “Use her, abuse her…just get her out of my way. I’m feeling generous. You can each take turns with her as much as you like, as long as I get her the second I snap my fingers.”

  The men smile.

  “You got it, boss,” Freddy says. “We get turns until you give the word. We’ll probably grow tired of her anyway.”

  “Oh, I doubt that—she’s got something most bitches only dream of,” Armando says.

  “What’s that?” The Schemer asks.

  “She’s got energy, man. Delicious, delicious energy.” Armando crushes his cigarette and strokes his jaw thoughtfully—the side that he can feel, anyway. “It’s like plugging your dick into an electric stream. Or that’s what I’ve heard anyway.” He glances out of the corner of his eye at the three men next to him. “Can you imagine? You won’t get tired of that, guaranteed. You’ll be spoiled. You’re right. Let’s let her live.”

  Nurse Ratched bursts in the door. “Hey, assholes,” she says in greeting. “Chief dick, it’s time for your meds and your ablutions.” She chuckles.

  Armando’s cheeks stain a deep red. He knows she means the enema she gives him daily to keep his bowels clean. “In a minute,” he snaps. “Leave us alone for a few.”

  She taps her wristwatch. “You have two minutes. Finish things up.” She pulls the door shut behind her.

  “She’s sure bossy,” Morton says. “Will she be coming with us?”

  “Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. Do you want to be in charge of wiping my ass?” Armando gives him an angry sneer.

  “Fuck, no,” says Morton. “Bring the bitch. She any good in bed?”

  “Are you kidding? We’d have to put a pillow case over her head and get wasted.”

  “I’m just saying,” Morton says with a shrug. “She could grease the wheel until we get to the good stuff.”