Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr (27 page)

Lyon smiled at her encouragingly.

“She’s shy,” explained Nick.

“But willing?” asked Raine.

All three males looked at her.

Her teeth worried at her lip, but she jerked her head in assent, careful to avoid glancing anywhere below their naked chests.

Nick gazed at her with approval. Underlying it, a haze of passion filled his eyes. She knew that glazed look. There would soon be no reasoning with him. He would listen to nothing but primordial desire.

She searched his brothers’ faces and saw they were similarly afflicted. The hypnotic spell of the Calling was overtaking them all.

The day had begun so well. How had it come to this—that she found herself alone in a sacred glade with three muscle-bound, lust-crazed, naked men? She shivered.

“She will take the elixir?” asked Raine. His voice was somber, urgent.

Nick caught her expression and saw the uncertainty. He nodded.

The brothers quickly poured and partook of the elixir from their own glasses and then set them aside. A fourth mixture was poured into a goblet and handed to her.

Her breasts shifted and bobbed as she reached for it. Three sets of male eyes fell to them, like iron shards drawn to magnets. She shrank from their stares, but they missed nothing of her movements as she drank.

Liquid fire slid down her throat, and she welcomed it. Moonlight winked in the ruby sheen. As the last drops burned their way inside her, her eyes narrowed.

At her wedding and all the times they had met afterward, these men had known that someday this night might come to pass. All three of them had known but hadn’t seen fit to tell her. No doubt their silence was “the Satyr way.”

She slammed the empty goblet onto a nearby stone. The brothers took no heed of her disgruntlement, intent only on their own objectives. Lyon took the goblet and replaced it in some hidden nook.

Silence fell as they all waited for the elixir to stir her blood. Long moments passed. The fog threaded her legs, brushing her body with its swirl.

Her movements grew languorous, and she swayed. She raised a hand to her neck, rubbing sensuously under the fall of her hair. Her breasts were thick and heavy, her nipples puckered and tightened. Her slit moistened, and her labia plumped. Deep inside, her core began to tingle, and she squeezed her thighs together in an effort to capture the sensation.

Her every murmur and undulation were duly noted.

“Take care with her,” Nick muttered.

Jane turned slumberous eyes on him, wondering what he meant.

Raine nodded wordlessly. He stepped forward, his body claiming her attention as it blocked his brothers from her view. Footsteps padded across the ground behind him. Nick and Lyon were moving away, leaving them alone.

Raine looked somewhat apologetic, yet when he took her arm and guided her across the length of the clearing, it was with determination and purpose. Easily led, she breathed deep of the orchid air. Beneath her bare feet, the moss was spongy soft.

He paused before the largest statue at the end of the arena. She followed his gaze and looked up. And up. Above them, haughty Bacchus reigned over the glen, a grin slicing his face.

Grape clusters, vines, and leaves entwined the locks of his hair, curling in wild abandon. His pose was confident and lavish in its nakedness, proudly displaying his most prominent feature—an enormous phallus that curved high, like a corpulent scabbard.

Maenads and nymphs caressed the god with delicately wrought hands and lips. He took their attentions as his due, scarcely acknowledging them. Instead, the concave pits of his eyes seemed focused on her.

Warmth surrounded her as Raine came to stand at her back. She braced her palms on top of the stone pedestal as his hands at her waist lifted her high to lean against its side.

“Find the footholds,” he instructed.

Her toes scrambled until they found purchase in two notches about fifteen inches from the ground. The footholds were an arm’s length apart and held her legs splayed. There were similar notches at varying heights and intervals ringing the base of the statue. Always in pairs.

She felt Raine hoist himself into position behind her. Muscles bunched along the front of the masculine thighs that aligned with the backs of hers.

A heavy palm pressed between her shoulder blades, stirring her quills. It pushed her forward until she was bent at the waist over the statue’s base. Her position was one of worship, of supplicance. Had she tried, she could have reached out and traced the web of ivy at Bacchus’s feet.

The stone that met her breasts had been smoothed in subtle twin indentations. How many other women had been taken here by Satyr males over the centuries? she wondered. How many other breasts had rubbed here and slicked the stone to this sheen?

She started in surprise as a finger and thumb opened the cheeks of her buttocks. Something nudged at the puckered aperture revealed in her rear divide.

A penis.

It prodded, seeking trespass.

Another, simultaneous stab came at the shadowy slit between her thighs.

So it was to be a dual mating. She hadn’t ventured to look but had wondered if Nick’s brothers’ bodies changed in the same way as his during the Calling. Now she had evidence they did.

The velvet crowns pierced her, stretching her openings beyond what seemed possible and then proved possible as Raine pressed on. He cleaved himself to her by slow inches, taking care as Nick had requested.

Some of the sensual haze faded to be replaced by fear and uncertainty. His body felt unfamiliar. Wrong.

Jane’s breath caught on a sudden sob.

The prodding abruptly ceased. Raine curved his palm over her hip bone, lending comfort. She only sobbed harder.

“The elixir,” he said in a kind voice. “We thought—but I’ll wait and let it take full effect. Tell me when you’re prepared.”

He stood motionless for several moments, with only the first few inches of his cocks lodged in her intimate compartments. Occasionally his sex twitched, and she knew his desire to complete the act must be great. His restraint was admirable, but she couldn’t fully appreciate it in her current distress.

The elixir pumped more strongly through her veins, bringing with it calm and willingness. Her passages moistened. She’d agreed to participate in this. She tried to relax for him.

Raine’s knuckles whitened where they gripped the stone on either side of her, and she sensed his growing desperation. “May I proceed?” he asked at length, his cultured voice strained.

She took a shaky breath and then nodded. At the first agreeable inclination of her head, he thrust deep. This time she didn’t quail as his appendages sought haven in her body.

He sank home. She shuddered. Like his elder brother, he filled her beyond what was comfortable.

Almost immediately, his hips pulled back, only to push flush against her again. He handled her with the rigid bearing that typified him. His withdrawal and penetration were controlled, rhythmic.

Thoughts whirled in her head as he worked. Was she really here in this forest being fucked by her husband’s fastidious brother? And her husband condoned it? Watched it, in fact? Over and over, what had once been unimaginable often became truth here on Satyr land.

Eventually Raine commenced bucking with less consideration for her comfort. Reluctant groans were torn from him.

The swells of her breasts polished the stone surface as he pounded her. Again she wondered how many other women had been impaled here on this altar. With their husbands’ consent, had they sought their pleasure here with men who weren’t their husbands? She felt a burgeoning kinship with them.

Raine murmured low words in what she knew to be the Satyr language. They touched a chord deep within her. Her mind and body were relaxed now, accepting.

His large hand wrapped the length of her hair around his wrist to hold her for his increasingly powerful taking. Her neck arched, and her head lifted to meet Bacchus’s gaze. He smiled benevolently down at her, approving of her sacrifice.

When release threatened, she fought it. It had been a game before when Nick had mated with her under the guise of being other men. But this was all too real. She wouldn’t enjoy another male’s caress, even under her husband’s instruction. She would not.

“Let go,” Raine prompted, his tone grim. “Your ultimate enjoyment is necessary to complete the Sharing.”

“No,” she moaned, clenching her fists.

Masculine hands slipped beneath her arms to find her breasts. They plucked at nipples already taut and distended, carefully pressing them to the stone surface so it abraded them in time with his luxuriant thrusts. Lust shot straight from her breasts to her core.

When orgasm could no longer be held at bay, she gave in to it. Raine felt the milking begin, and his hands tightened on her hips. He drove deep in one final, smooth stroke.

With a muted bellow, he creamed, spurting warm, brotherly semen inside her. From above, she felt Bacchus’s pleasure wash over them.

Hands stroked her, she knew not whose. Nick and Lyon had returned even while her tissues still pulsed around their brother’s cocks. Raine stayed firmly nestled within her as three voices joined together in some sort of chanted ritual unfamiliar to her. At its completion, a strange feeling came over her like a light, comforting veil of magic.

Then Raine perfunctorily withdrew. She clutched at the stone surface to retain her balance and blinked after him as he and Nick departed.

Leaving her alone with Lyon.

Though Nick had appeared to be suffering the tortures of the damned, he’d offered no words of comfort or love. She felt abandoned.

Lyon tugged her from her perch. She fell against him but quickly pulled away from his brawny heat.

“Come,” he told her, taking her hand in his large pawlike one. “We shall tease Nick a little, eh?”

“I’m not sure that’s wise,” she mumbled.

As they walked side by side, the joggle of her naked breasts embarrassed her, as did the new slickness between her thighs and rear cleft. All she could think of was that he’d just seen his brother fornicate with her. That he was planning to do the same.

She watched the ground pass under her feet. Fragrant Corsican mint and blue-spiked lavender grew thick in low mounds edging the mossy path. From the corner of her eye she saw Nick and Raine a distance away, observing them. Could Nick see the residue that clung to Raine’s shaft as a result of their joining? Did the scent of her arousal on his brother’s body torment him?

Lyon led her to a different place upon the altar of Bacchus where stone formed an arched bridge over a series of small pools. Here a fountain of fresh water trickled from gourds held by three nymphs with beguiling features and lichened hair. It cascaded over the edge of the bridge in a wide sheet that spilled to the pools below.

He held out his arm as though assisting her into a carriage. The gentlemanly gesture struck her as ridiculous in such circumstances, but she took his hand nevertheless.

With his support, she stepped upward onto the stair wall that edged the pool. Where her ribs met the bridge, the waterfall halted and found a new avenue, easing around her to dribble down her sides.

This new perch held her facing outward, toward the open glen. The bridge obscured only a narrow strip at her waist. When she looked straight ahead, her gaze tangled with Nick’s. From where they stood, he and Raine had a direct frontal view of her breasts, hips, and legs!

She glanced at Lyon over her shoulder and tried to step down. “Not here. They’ll see too much.”

“The place is mine to choose,” he told her.

Before she could argue further, Lyon’s feet found a larger step that jutted from the pool’s rock-wall base just below hers. The warmth and scent of him engulfed her as he swung up behind her and pressed himself along her back.

He flexed his knees and dipped lower behind her. He paused, purposely giving his brothers ample time to view his engorged cocks through the window created by the inverted vee of her legs.

Slowly he straightened. His twin penises greeted her unguarded gates. At Lyon’s carnal puncture, she saw Nick start forward and then check himself. Lyon was either very brave or very foolish to incite his jealousy by this blatant display.

Slowly, slowly he speared her. Her tissues were tender from Raine’s attentions, and she felt every inch of his ingress. He was gargantuan, but her body, her mind, didn’t resist. Eventually his thatch met her bottom, and he sank to the hilt.

The heat and musk of him surrounded her. The sudden sensation of fullness and captivity was too much. She whimpered.

Lyon’s palm slid over her belly, fingers wide, laying claim. Nick wouldn’t miss the possessive gesture.

Jane heard him snarl and saw Raine restrain him.

Lyon moved his lips next to her ear. “Don’t hate me, sister. In a Sharing it is best to arouse a husband to jealousy. It’s strange to you, I imagine. But it’s our way.”

Jane rolled her eyes at this all-too-familiar disclaimer, but positioned as he was, Lyon didn’t see.

Getting down to business, he began to rut on her with vigorous strokes. Again, she felt the difference—the shape and size of a man to which she was unaccustomed and who wasn’t her husband. His furred thighs pressed hers wide and chafed silkily as he shoved and retreated. Hands at her pelvic bones arched her hips back, opening her for his surging cocks.

Bacchus watched this coupling from a different angle than the last. She felt his avid eyes on her bottom jiggling in sync with Lyon’s rhythmic heave.

Her breasts dangled over the stone, slapping and sliding in the slick sheet that cascaded over it. The frenzied shine bubbled, bathed, and soothed. She cupped her breasts, lifting them away from the titillation, refusing it. But when Lyon’s thrusting intensified, she lost her grip and simply endured the stream’s chilly caress.

This was a man who delighted in fornication and wasn’t afraid to show it. He reveled in his task and shouted his enjoyment of her body for all the world to know. Compliments and encouragement punctuated their coupling, urging her toward pleasure. His brothers might not catch his every word, but his relish would be apparent.