The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (11 page)

and back again, washing as well as caressing each of them. Sar could

see what it was doing to Lon, but the way it felt was absolutely

incredible, his engorged penis getting harder with each stroke.

Sar felt his own climax building and heard Lon gasp the way he

always did when he was about to come. In that instant, Nalira let go

of both of them to massage their testicles, but it was too late. Sar held his breath, doing his best to hold back his ejaculation, but creamy

semen spurted from the head of his cock anyway, splattering all over

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77

Nalira’s hip.

Sar couldn’t believe Lon hadn’t done the same, but he’d been in

her left hand. Her right hand was obviously stronger. She kept going,

massaging their soapy nuts, letting the weight of them rest in her

palms. Sar wanted to laugh out loud—she had them both by the balls,

and he was enjoying every moment. As far as he was concerned, he

and Lon belonged to her now. They were her own personal pets, and

she could do with them whatever she wished.

Lon’s cock was a deep reddish purple, every vein distended with

raw animal lust. Nalira rinsed her hands under the spray of water and

then redirected the stream at Lon’s groin. He thrust it forward as

though the flowing water was a hot cunt to be fucked. After a few

moments, Nalira seemed jealous of the water itself, pulling him away

and then dropping to her knees to suck him.

Sar and Lon both groaned as Lon’s cock slid past her lips.

“Suck him hard, Nalira,” Sar begged. “Make him come in your

mouth.”

Nalira’s response was muted by the dick she was sucking, but her

body gave a sudden lurch as she climaxed. Grabbing his ass, she

pulled Lon deeper into her mouth, going down on him with wild

abandon.

It didn’t take long before Lon let out a yell and pumped his juice

onto her waiting tongue. Doubled over and panting with ecstasy, Lon

shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never come so hard in my life!”

Nalira seemed pleased with this declaration. Smiling, she let go of

him and stood up, spitting his cum into her hand and then rubbing it

between her legs. “Mmm, my cum-slick cunt needs some cock.”

Sar pulled her back against him, delighting in the heat of her body

held tightly against his own. His erection had never wavered, and he

slid his hard shaft between the cheeks of her butt, gliding over her

anus. He didn’t need to hear her moans of pleasure to know precisely

how good that felt. Lon had done it to him a thousand times.

Lon stood in front of Nalira, first pressing his chest against her

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Cheryl Brooks

body and then dipping down to thrust his cock between her legs. Sar

met him there, their engorged cocks trapped against the creamy

wetness of Lon’s semen, which was smeared all over her entrance.

“Mmm…This is even better than before,” she murmured. “I’m

glad you two can keep going. Bet Sarlon was never that good.”

“Probably not,” Lon agreed. “But right now, I just plain don’t

care.”

“Me, either.” Sar swept her wet hair back from her face and bent

down to lick her neck. Her skin was slick and hot from the shower but

still tasted like the essence of pure desire. “Though he might have

been as good if he’d ever been with you. You’re driving us wild,

Nalira. You know that, don’t you? We’ve never felt like this. Ever.”

“You must be a witch,” Lon murmured. “I mean, you
look
human,

but you’ve turned us into rutting stags.”

“Oh, I’m human, all right,” Nalira replied. “But you two make me

feel like a siren. I’ve never been so hungry for cock in all my life.

Big, hard, dripping cocks…” She paused, letting out a groan as she

pulled Lon down for a kiss. “I feel alive… Really, truly alive. For the

very first time.”

* * * *

Nalira wasn’t lying, either. She meant every word. Keeping Sar

and Lon as lovers wasn’t just a whim. It was quickly becoming a

necessity. Her body was squeezed tightly between them, and knowing

that no matter where she turned she would find the man of her dreams

gazing back at her made her feel stronger than ever before. If Sarlon

had made a hundred such clones of himself, she would have wanted to

keep every last one of them.

The legal process would take years, but she didn’t care. She would

work tirelessly on their behalf, and then, at the end of the day, she

would be with them, holding and loving them through the night. Her

life would have purpose again. She wouldn’t be dealing with spoiled

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79

marriages and failed relationships. She would be championing the

underdogs of the galaxy, the nameless copies of people who were so

stuck on themselves that having children to carry on after them wasn’t

good enough. Sar and Lon were living proof that the personalities of

clones could differ from that of the original—similar tendencies,

perhaps, but still unique. When she was done, they would have their

own identities and the right to inherit property, just as any naturally-

produced offspring would have.

It was a tough job, but someone had to do it, and Nalira was an

eager volunteer. Somewhere, in the great beyond, she was sure that

Sarlon was smiling—the wily old bastard! It crossed her mind for a

moment that she was actually having sex with two copies of the old

man, but they were so diametrically opposed to him, it didn’t seem

possible. They were unspoiled, completely lacking the ruthless

arrogance that had characterized Sarlon.

This was one of the chief reasons that clones should be recognized

as individuals—a fact that Nalira would exploit to the best of her

ability. Sarlon, for example, would never have found joy in pleasuring

a woman the way these two obviously did.

Their own delight was clear, but having two hard cocks between

her legs was intoxicating. Nalira’s cares drifted into nothingness as

their hips rocked back and forth, spreading their combined moisture

halfway down her thighs.

“I want to keep going until we all come again,” Sar murmured in

her ear, “but I don’t think I’ve got anything left in my balls.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Nalira reminded him. “And

tomorrow will be quite a day. A new beginning for all of us. Don’t

forget that.”

“I’m thinking about it right now,” Lon said with a sigh. “I’m

looking forward to waking up and leaving here with you.”

“Where will we go?”

“Another hotel for now,” she replied. “I’ve got to finish up this

case, but in the meantime, you two can relax.”

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Cheryl Brooks

Sar’s throaty chuckle sent tingles racing over her scalp. “We

won’t just relax. We’ll work out and get all hot and sweaty.” He

paused, licking her earlobe. “That way we’ll have enough stamina to

keep going as long as you like.”

“Mmm…Sounds good, but I do have to get
some
sleep.”

“You will,” he said. “Let’s put her to bed, Lon.”

Nalira groaned as they parted from her, but delighted in the way

they rinsed and dried her tired, sated body and then laid her on the

bed. She was so completely relaxed that when they joined her there,

sleep had already taken her in its embrace.

* * * *

The doorman smiled as he ushered Nalira outside, but frowned

when he saw who was carrying her luggage. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he

said, “but they can’t leave the building.”

Nalira’s raised eyebrow had intimidated much stronger men, and

she used it now with impunity. “And why not?”

“They, ah, belong to the hotel.”

Nalira laughed. “Not anymore.” With a look that promised harsh

retribution should he make any further attempts to stop them, she

added, “C’mon, guys. Let’s get out of here.”

An expression of near-panic marred the doorman’s features as he

looked past her.

Following his gaze, Nalira saw the hotel manager nodding his

approval, which was exactly what she’d expected to see.

Smiling as the three of them stepped outside into the light, Nalira

realized that while being right was often its own reward, there were

times when that reward was especially sweet—and this was one of

those times. Even so, the fear that her two lovers might bolt at their

earliest opportunity nagged at her like a petulant child.

“So, how does it feel to be free?” she ventured cautiously.

“It feels good,” Sar replied with a firm nod.

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81

“Damn good,” Lon added.

“Not going to run off, are you?”

Sar took her hand, pressing his lips to her palm. “Wouldn’t dream

of it.”

“I’d die first,” Lon swore. Wrapping his free arm around her

waist, he pulled her close, kissing her cheek.

Sar followed Lon’s example, and, flanked by her two lovers,

Nalira embarked upon a new chapter in her life—a life blessed with

twice the love and double the delight.

Glancing up at the crystal clear sky, she smiled warmly.

“Thanks, Sarlon. I owe you one.”

THE END

CHERYLBROOKSONLINE.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A native of Louisville, Kentucky, Cheryl Brooks is a critical care

nurse by night and a romance writer by day. Utilizing her rich fantasy

life and a knack for unobtrusive boy watching, she is currently

branching out from paranormal romance into erotic novellas, both

contemporary and paranormal, with her Sextet sisters, and loving it!

A lifelong lover of horses and animals in general, she lives with her

husband, two sons, two horses, four cats, and one dog in rural Indiana.

She enjoys cooking, gardening, and has played guitar since the age of

ten. A member of the RWA and INRWA, her previously published

works include The Cat Star Chronicles series:
Slave,
Warrior, Rogue,
Outcast, Fugitive,
and
Hero
. Book seven,
Virgin,
will be released in June 2011.

TWO MANY CHEFS

Mellanie Szereto

DEDICATION

Infinite hugs and kisses to my ever-supportive husband.

More hugs to my wonderful Sextet sisters.

And a special thanks to Rebecca for her foodie expertise.

Chapter 1

How the hell did I get roped into this?

Why did she, Wren McCoskey, food chemist and dinner-from-a-

box queen, have to interview two chefs for her cousin’s wedding

reception?
Not any two, either. The only two men I’ve ever fantasized
about while enjoying an evening with Richard.
And couldn’t this have
waited until I carried my luggage upstairs to unpack?
Her poor

companion was probably suffocating in there. Of course, he hadn’t

been seated between a man who snored and a teenager who sang out

of tune to his iPod.
Poor
Richard got to ride in the cargo hold with only engine noise from the St. Louis to the Port Columbus Airport.

No more conferences for at least the next six months.

Scanning her test kitchen, she made an eye-hop from station one

to station two. Rule sheet.
Check
. Pen.
Check
. Notepad.
Check
. The counters were spotless, the cabinets and refrigerators stocked, and

each range, oven, and microwave in working order. Her assistant

deserved double-overtime pay for seeing to those details. Wren

glanced at the clock on the wall above the walk-in freezer. Three

minutes ’til two.

Bzzzz.

Her stomach twisted. Almost eight years had passed since Dane

and Spencer had last seen her.
High school graduation.
Would they recognize her? Damn, she hoped not. The braces were long gone, her

waist-length hair had been cut and colored, and laser surgery had

corrected her myopic vision. No more geeky glasses. She might have

to join a convent if they told her she hadn’t changed at all. Were nuns

allowed vibrators? She’d get mighty lonely without Richard.

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Mellanie Szereto

Crossing the kitchen to the delivery entrance, her bootheels

clicked on the tile floor.
Deep breath. Slide the dead bolt, turn the
knob, pull. Try not to swoon at the sight of hot chef number one.

Dane Fletcher
. She plastered on a smile to hide her sudden lack of respiratory abilities. He still had the same unkempt blond hair,

adorable dimples, and mischievous aqua eyes—that wayward air

begging every woman to save him from himself. And his long, lean

body had only improved with age.

“Damn, the single men of the world will mourn for years if you’re

the bride. Dane Fletcher, here to wow your taste buds.” His eyes

traveled from her face to her feet, obviously taking in her cleavage

and the belly button ring above her low-cut jeans. His dark-blond

eyebrows rose, and his tongue slipped out to wet his lips.

She almost laughed. He hadn’t changed at all. Ever the flirt. “No.

Maid of honor. Wren McCoskey.”

The moment he recognized her name came. His jaw dropped and

his wide eyes seemed to search for some recognizable trait.

Wonderful.

“No way. Not Bird the Nerd. Jay didn’t say his twin sister grew up