Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (12 page)

She seemed resigned to a seven-year delay in finding love, but she didn’t show any outward signs of distress. Quayde couldn’t imagine having his body dictate when he discovered Ilona—the anticipation, followed by disappointment if the timing wasn’t perfect. He’d rather wait beside his true love for her to awaken than know his search would have to be put on hold.

“I’ll come back in about an hour for your dishes and to let you know if the joining can be blessed.” Gathering the green stumps of the candles from the dresser, Heléna hurried out the door, making no noise as she left the apartment.

PC settled next to Ilona again, plainly not in the mood to eat, either. “That shifter is a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah. A mean bastard.” Lack of a full night’s sleep all week set off a string of yawns, and Quayde laid his head on the pillow. “I’m going to see if I can get some shut-eye.”

“Me too.”

Rolling toward Ilona, Quayde rested his hand on her hip, unable to keep from touching her. He let his eyes drift shut and made the same wish he made every time he slept.
Let her wake up.

* * * *

Glass clinked. Light footfalls shuffled on the floor. Fabric swished in rhythm with the footsteps. A clunk and then more swishing and shuffling faded to quiet. Several slow blinks revealed dim light, and a slow inhale brought the scent of eucalyptus, melted wax, and cloves. Heat soothed stiff, achy muscles.

Slowly opening her eyes, Ilona focused on the ceiling. Her bedroom ceiling.
How did I get here?
The last thing she remembered was fumbling for the doorknob to her suite and battling a bout of light-headedness. Had she fainted?

No, she hadn’t fainted.
Poison
. Aunt Agnes had said the word while Ilona fought to stay conscious. Her eyelids had refused to cooperate, leaving her to rely solely on her senses other than sight to stay aware. Aunt Flóra had poked at her thumb until Ilona wanted to scream in agony, but no sound would rise in her unresponsive throat. Her whole body had gone numb, her muscles incapable of reacting to her brain’s commands.

A splinter had carried Kazmer’s venomous essence into her bloodstream, but removing the piece of wood hadn’t stopped the toxins already flowing into her limbs. Sleep overtook her during the confusing mix of panicked voices, paralyzed nerves, and the almost-minty flavor of chamomile on her tongue.

How long had she slept? From the lack of daylight, she guessed early morning or evening had come. Had she rested through the night and awakened with the dawn? Faint snippets of conversation she must’ve overheard told her otherwise. Among the voices, two stood out—gentle male voices speaking words of encouragement over and over.
I’m here with you, Ilona. Take all the time you need to get well. I promise to stay with you.

She recognized those deep, melodic twangs. The men she’d brought home with her from the past talked with that distinctive Texas drawl—the men who’d asked who she was when they landed in her apartment completely naked. The transportation charm had erased any memories they had of making love to her.

Disappointment and heartache cut through her as though the awkward scene had happened only a moment ago. A tear leaked from the outer corner of her eye to roll down her cheekbone to her hair. With the panicked rhyme, she’d accidentally erased their minds of having shared a bed and her secret, leaving her back at the beginning of the quest for her mates. Any affection they might’ve held for her was gone. Their proclamation that she belonged to them and they to her had been negated.

With less than a week until the third-quarter moon, she couldn’t waste a minute. She had to seduce them, make them fall in love with her, and tell them the truth about herself within days—whether she had the energy to climb out of bed or not. Giving up wasn’t an option she intended to consider. At least not yet.

Loathe to slip from the warmth of her bed, Ilona stretched her legs beneath the covers, flinching at a slight cramp in her calf. The sooner she got up and moving, the sooner her body would recover from the poison and inactivity.

The movement stirred a woodsy aroma, triggering a spasm between her thighs. She had no reason to worry about having missed her fertility cycle if a masculine scent brought that kind of response. Where had it come from, though?

She pushed at the blankets tucked up to her chin and scooted her bottom under her to sit. A substantial lump lay on either side of her, one topped by a tousled head of blue-black hair, the other with a dark-brown mop of curls. Their eyes were closed, and both men seemed out cold. Why were PC and Quayde in bed with her? Was this her chance to remind them of how amazing their threesome sex had been?

Using logic was her specialty. Until her method proved a failure, she’d exploit its success. That her heart was already involved fueled her determination. Even if her mates didn’t remember her, they still had pledged themselves to her before their memories had been altered. Somewhere inside, they had to care for her.

Crawling on her hands and knees to the foot of the bed, she forced her weak body into action. Her legs threatened to crumple as she stood, but she gripped the corner post to maintain her balance. Step by step, she managed to walk to the closet and retrieve several lengths of fabric from her sewing basket. She’d planned to make quilts for the cribs in the nursery with the pastel muslin cloth. Unfortunately, her skills didn’t extend to needle and thread.

They did, however, include extensive knowledge of knot tying.

She gathered every bit of her strength to quickly bind Quayde’s and PC’s ankles to the bedposts before moving to their wrists. Neither man so much as sighed as she laced the strips of material through their feet and hands. They didn’t seem to notice the cooler air when she removed their covers or the bouncing of the mattress when she settled between them to rest.

Her muscles trembled like she’d been unconscious for far longer than eight hours, sixteen hours, or even an entire day. She must’ve skirted closer to death than she’d imagined. Several minutes of slow inhales and exhales restored some of her vigor.

While she regained control over her weakness, she studied the breathtaking forms of her naked mates. Lean legs and narrow hips. Rippled abdomens. Impressive pectorals and biceps. They were works of art, and they were hers—unless they decided to refuse her at the joining ceremony.

One obstacle at a time.
First, she had to convince them to have sex with her. Together. Again.
Actually, I have to get them to wake up first. Maybe I can help them remember me.

Unable to choose which of her cowboy rescuers to explore, she skimmed her fingers along the defined ridges of both their stomachs. Two semierect cocks taunted her, daring her to trace the veins that fed blood through their hardening lengths. PC’s dick twitched when she feathered across his lower belly. Quayde’s pulsed and grew.

Would they mind if she gave in to her need to touch them? They
were
naked in bed with her after all. Could they possibly have regained the memories of the time they’d spent together at the brothel?

They must have. Otherwise, why would they be here with me?
At the very least, PC and Quayde had to realize an important connection existed for them to stay.

She surrendered to the dare, leaning in to follow the raised curving purple line on her black-haired lover’s erection with her tongue. The only muscle on him that moved was the one straining for her mouth. A drop of fluid pooled in the slit on the head, and she couldn’t resist temptation. Tasting PC’s tangy juices whetted her appetite for more, so she swallowed him inch by delicious inch. The silky texture of his taut skin belied the steely hardness it covered.

He arched up, pushing the wide crown to the back of her throat. Still, he didn’t wake.

Switching to Quayde, she repeated the actions, savoring the saltier flavor of his pre-cum. He was slightly longer and thinner than PC, each man’s sculpted cock unique and inviting in its own way. Even the shape and size of their balls differed. Quayde’s generous thatch of tight curls almost hid his sac, while PC donned a thin layer of coarse jet-black hair at the base of his thick length but none on his scrotum.

Easing Quayde out from between her lips, she gave him a last lick. His abs contracted, making his smooth, ruddy tip bob against her chin, but his eyes didn’t open.

What did she have to do to get their attention? As much as she enjoyed touching and tasting her men, she ached to have their mouths and hands all over her like she had in the brothel.

Letting out a frustrated huff, she sat back on her heels. “I want you now!”

No response. Not an eyelash flutter or a finger wiggle.

She flopped in the middle of the bed, ready to die from lack of contact with the men she was sure were her mates. The hormones racing through body threatened to drown her. She groaned. “I love you for staying with me when you don’t even remember me, but I wish you’d wake up and fuck me.”

“You awake, Quayde? I had the craziest dream.” PC’s husky voice almost made Ilona cry.

“Yeah.” Quayde yawned. “Crazy but so damn good.”

Popping up, she propped her fists on her waist. Desire stole her patience. “Will you shut up and screw me already?”

Two sets of eyes flew open, and PC struggled to sit up. He got as far as lifting his head off the pillow. Then he grinned, revealing the sexy dimple in his left cheek. “Seems like I’ve been in this position once before.”

Quayde met her gaze and laughed. “Darlin’, I’ve never been so happy to be tied up in my life.”

Struggling with the choice of which hunk to kiss first, she opted for alphabetical order. She bent over PC, lowering her lips to his and slipping inside to glide against his tongue. He moaned into her mouth, meeting her caress with one of his own. She cradled his jaw in her palms as he made a slow circuit of exploration. Goddess, she’d missed him.

She reluctantly eased away, her breath coming in shallow pants. “You remember?”

He nodded. “I won’t forget you ever again, Ilona.”

She smiled. Turning toward Quayde, she rubbed her fingers on his beard stubble and made no pretense of offering a simple kiss. His tongue came out to meet hers before she covered his mouth. His aggressive thrust sent flames burning through her veins, setting fire to every part of her.

Maybe she could convince them to love her before time expired after all. A few days of endless orgasms and constant companionship would go a long way.

Quayde growled as she ended their sparring. “Damn, I want to put my hands all over you.”

With too many details of the joining to discuss, she nixed the idea of releasing her captives. “I like having you at my mercy.”

She straddled his hips, guiding her needy pussy along the horizontal length of his cock, coating his sensitive ridge in her moisture. When she reached the head, she let it slide between her folds to her opening. A backward flex of her pelvis welcomed him into her cunt.

“Let me suck your nipples.” Quayde writhed beneath her, straining against the ties.

His begging sent her fire burning hotter and higher. She lowered her breasts above his parted lips, anticipation of his sucking and nibbling prompting a gush of wetness between her thighs. “Come inside me.”

Rocking back and forth, she took him deeper as he latched on to her nipple. His tongue fluttered over the tip, and she gave in to the cries rising in her chest. He jerked his hips upward as he scraped his teeth across the taut nub, stiffening as a burst of wet heat exploded into her. Her body shuddered with contraction after contraction as her orgasm flooded her nerve endings. His hoarse yell blended with her scream.

Her muscles trembled with her attempt to climb off him and onto PC. The connection had been amazing, but she needed more. She had to unite with her other mate.

His ready cock slid into her soaked tunnel in an easy lunge, and his girth stretched her to fit him.

His sexy grin sent her tummy somersaulting. “Watching you fuck Quayde is a major turn-on. I’m not going to last long.”

Gasping at the new places he touched inside her, she shook her head. “Neither am I. You feel so good.”

She rested her palms on his upper thighs and arched backward. The broad head of his dick kneaded her G-spot with every plunge, never letting her come down from the high Quayde had taken her to. PC’s upward strokes matched her forward rocks, and he sent her spiraling closer and closer to the sun.

He tugged at the restraints, his ragged breath signaling the loss of his control. “Come with me, Ilona. Now. God, now!”

His roar and his rigid length shooting her full of his life-giving cum sent her flying again. She soared to the clouds and floated among them before collapsing onto his heaving chest. His thundering heartbeat echoed in her ear. Reaching out to cup Quayde’s jaw, she treasured the intimacy of lying with her lovers.

Reality and duty invaded too soon, demanding she tell them about the joining and what they would have to commit to in order to remain with her. Putting it off wasn’t an option. “Do you remember I told about the matings in my family? I want you to join with me and be my life-mates. You only have until the third-quarter moon to decide. That’s less than a week.”