Raines, Elizabeth - Captivated [Wicked Missions 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

Wicked Missions 6

ELIZABETH RAINES

Copyright © 2011

Chapter 1

Izabella Szabo walked away from the reception, angrier than she’d been in longer than she could remember. “Won’t pin that fucking medal on me because I’m a woman? All those arrogant Bromondi bastards should have their nuts cut off. Nail ’em to a wall…” She couldn’t stop mumbling to herself, wishing all sorts of horrible fates on the men who’d shunned her.

Jerking the lacy veil away from her face, Izzie dropped it on the tile floor as she marched down the long foyer of the enormous royal palace, not even caring that she could be arrested for having the audacity to show her face in public. The scarf covering her head—a
wenora
—hit the floor next. The heavy robe draped over her body dropped last, marking the trail of her retreat in hated garments someone could follow to find her. As if anyone would give that kind of attention to a mere woman… She even stopped her escape and tirade long enough to stomp on the damned blue robe several times before continuing on, bravely dressed in nothing but a tight tank top and jogging shorts.

She tugged the sweat-soaked shirt away from her breasts, enjoying the cool night air washing over her skin and making her nipples pucker. Simply knowing if some man encountered her he’d see those erect nipples proudly displayed against the thin material made her find her first smile of the evening. As she passed yet another fountain, she thought about taking an impromptu bath in the water just to be sure the shadow of her areolas showed through the white top.

Izzie stalked through the palace, winding down hallway after hallway, taking turn after turn, not a single care in her thoughts for anything except venting her anger. Living on Bromond had taken its toll. Bad enough the place seemed to be nothing but sand and heat, but the citizens?

Reprehensible!

The men ran the society, treating the women like property. Not only were women denied civil rights, but they were forced to cover their faces, hair, and bodies in public. Even though she was an Earthling rather than Bromondi and worked for the Interplanetary Drug Enforcement Agency, she had to abide by the local rules, hiding her features and being as respectful to men in public as her redheaded temper would allow. Why didn’t the women rebel?

God, I’ve had enough!

Tonight had been the last fucking straw. Being honored at a banquet at the king’s palace was supposed to be the culmination of her and her partner Alayna Wilson’s undercover work to end the reign of drug kingpin Carlos Pontierri and his entire black-marketing and drug-smuggling ring. Pontierri now sat in a Bromondi prison. All of his associates were either in a cell next to him or would soon join him. The king had gathered together the rich and influential people in the capitol city of Caldrion for an enormous celebration where she, Alayna, and four other I.D.E.A. agents were presented with one of Bromond’s highest honors—the king’s medal.

Trouble was that the king wouldn’t personally pin the medal on her or Alayna, only on the four male agents. Izzie and her partner were seated with the rest of the women at tables in the back of the room. Their names were called, but they weren’t allowed to go to the stage to have the honors given to them by the king. Instead, one of his queens—what did he have? Something like five wives?—simply handed them the blue velvet boxes from across the table and nodded.

Izzie had pushed her chair back hard enough it toppled to the floor, making everyone turn and gape at her when the sound and her enraged shriek echoed through the hall. Everything inside her felt ready to burst, and she knew if she hadn’t left that room, she would have exploded, spewing words that would have probably found her thrown in a cell next to Carlos Pontierri for being an “insolent female.” Alayna followed her out of the reception hall, calling for her to wait, but Izzie had been stomping away so quickly, she’d lost her partner somewhere in the cavernous palace.

Turning another corner and marching past more marble columns that had to be at least three stories high, she jerked the band holding her hair in a ponytail and let her hair down to brush her shoulders. She was a
woman
, and she was damn well going to look like one!

An ornate door blocked her path, the first door she’d stumbled across in the vast expanse of the palace. Gold gilded the carved wood, the design beautiful and obviously significant in some way. The Bromondi word engraved on the gold plaque mounted to the side of the door said “Forbidden”—a word Izzie had seen often posted in places around the city that only men were allowed to go.

Funny, but no one ever spoke Bromondi anymore, preferring to use English. Yet most of the signs were still written in the nearly dead language. She tried the handle to see if it was locked, feeling the need to rebel by perhaps treading where no woman had gone before.

Easing the door open, she stepped into a room that was obviously some kind of home. Drawn to the warmth of the place, she wandered around, taking in the native art, such beautiful paintings and sculptures. Silk pillows were scattered around the tile floor. Comfortable chairs spoke of the ease people could take in this place. An extraordinarily large viewscreen was mounted by the chairs. A grand piano sat to one side, covered in gold and silver frames with holopictures of smiling faces of men and veiled-covered women. When she recognized the king in several of the pictures, she gasped. Shit, but she’d stumbled across the home of someone royal.

Hurrying back to the door, Izzie heard male voices approaching on the other side. “Fuck.” If she was caught in the living areas of the palace, she was up proverbial shit creek. Not even her status as an I.D.E.A. agent would prevent the outrage of the royal family that their sanctity had been breached. Her stealth training kicked in as she quickly found a hiding place and set in to wait out whoever was arriving and hope they’d leave in a hurry.

“Are you sure no one’s here?” a rich baritone asked, the sound of the door closing following the words.

“Positive,” another deep voice replied. “The reception will be at least another hour, and my father told me he’s going to one of his wives tonight.”

“Then come here,” the first voice said. “I’ve dreamed of touching you all day.”

“I thought about you too—about fucking that sweet ass,” the second replied.

Peeking out just enough to see the faces of the men who’d come into the room, Izzie almost choked. Both were handsome. Muscular. Downright gorgeous.

The taller had blond hair that reached his earlobes, and the strands were straight and thick. She nibbled on her bottom lip when he raked his fingers through it, wondering if it was as silky as it looked. His blue eyes were the shade of an afternoon sky.

The second man was also blond, not surprising on Bromond, but he wore his hair much shorter, almost a military cut.

The taller man spoke. “Well, c’mere then. I need you to kiss me, Damian. Now.”

“Gladly, Jayce,” Damian replied. When he took the last few steps toward Jayce, his brown eyes scanned the wall, making Izzie fear she’d be seen from where she hid behind several large ceramic urns. Holding her breath, she ducked back out of sight, waiting and praying they were too involved with each other to notice her playing voyeur.

She listened, straining to hear more, but their words had died. When the first husky growl echoed through the room, she realized they were kissing. It took all of her self-control not to move so she could watch them again. Her mind tumbled with erotic image after erotic image of the two sensual men kissing, touching, caressing… Heat flooded her pussy, and she squeezed her thighs tighter against the gush of excited juices wetting her panties.

Since when had her fantasies taken on same-sex liaisons? When had the thought of two men making love to one another become part of what she craved so much she wanted to jam her hand down her shorts and rub her sensitized clitoris until she reached climax? When had she begun to imagine herself as a part of a triangle that included two men worshipping her as well as each other?

Duh.
When one of her best friends, a man she’d trained with in the agency, had become a part of a three-way marriage. Every time she thought of Spencer with his husband and wife, Izzie felt a jealousy that bordered on pathetic. The notion of three people being that close, of two men loving one woman, became something she knew would haunt her the rest of her life.

“Suck my cock,” Jayce demanded in a sultry tone that made shivers race the length of Izzie’s body.

“With pleasure,” Damian replied. “God, you’re so big.”

A needy whimper slipped out before she could stop it as she imagined the blond with the buzz cut unzipping Jayce’s pants. An enormous cock would spring forward, rising from a nest of flaxen curls. Clear fluid would drip from the slit as sensuous lips closed around the engorged head and—

“Fuck!” Jayce shouted. “That feels so good!”

Izzie couldn’t stand not seeing for another second. Peeking out of her hiding place, she greedily took in the vision before her. Jayce’s jeans were puddled around his ankles, and Damian knelt in front of him, his lips spread wide as Jayce pumped his cock into his mouth. Her womb flip-flopped in response, and she almost came on the spot.

“I need to fuck you,” Damian said as he pulled his mouth away from Jayce’s erection. “Turn around and bend over the chair.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Not even bothering to kick his pants aside, Jayce waddled the few steps to the velvet chair and flopped his chest over the back, wiggling his well-formed ass at Damian. “Fuck me!”

Damian’s hand swatted one of the cheeks, hard enough that Jayce yelped in response. As he unbuttoned his pants and dropped them to the floor, he said, “Don’t order me around. I’ll fuck you when
I’m
ready. I don’t give a shit if you’re the crown prince or not.
I’m
in charge now.” To punctuate the words, he smacked Jayce’s ass again. This time, Jayce moaned in response.

Izzie blinked in disbelief. The name Jayce hadn’t registered until the moment Damian said
crown prince
. The heir to the Bromondi throne was about to get his ass fucked by another man. The homophobic, misogynistic planet would never survive the scandal.

She couldn’t make herself move. Damian had spit onto his fingers and was smearing the lubricant around Jayce’s tight little hole. Her own body responded as if those fingers were pushing into her ass. She wanted nothing more than to force her way into their little interlude and show them both just how wonderful a threesome could be. Not that she had personal experience, but if they could make her feel so ready to come simply from watching, she knew those four hands on her body—and her hands on theirs—would be paradise.

With no warning, Damian rammed into Jayce. Her hand flew to her lips to keep from crying out. How could that not have hurt? But instead of trying to get away from Damian, Jayce was pushing back, impaling himself more on Damian’s enormous cock as his own dick spurted fluid that leaked to splatter on the tile floor.

As Damian pounded into Jayce’s ass, he reached around and started to roughly stroke Jayce’s erection. Izzie pictured herself touching him, imagining getting down on her knees to suck his length into her mouth as Damian fucked him. She whimpered again, unable to stop the physical response that was running roughshod over her body. She’d never had an orgasm without touching herself, but she was so damned close at that moment, her legs could barely support her.

“I’m…coming!” Damian shouted as he threw his head back and pushed into Jayce.

Jayce’s hand replaced where Damian’s had dropped away, stroking his own cock as Damian shouted his release. A moment later, Jayce groaned and came, his semen blasting the red velvet of the chair and dripping in long, stringy drops to the floor.

Izzie couldn’t stop her own climax, and before she could stop herself, she gasped as spasm after spasm rocked her body. When she opened her eyes, she realized the two men were now staring at her.

How odd…
Three people caught in an incredibly awkward situation, totally frozen to the spot. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her at the same time the men separated and groped for their pants.

She didn’t even try to run, instead taking a defensive stance because she knew she was good and caught.
That’s what I get for thinking with my cunt…

“Who
are
you?” Jayce demanded as he strode across the floor to stand a little over an arm’s length away. He fisted his hands against his slim hips, taking a wide-legged stance and frowning at her. His glare was hot enough to melt metal.

Izzie gave back as good as she got, fixing a scowl on her face and trying to intimidate him. When Damian stomped over to stand at Jayce’s side, she threw the same glower at him. “Look, why don’t you two boys just step aside. I’ll get the hell outta here and leave you to your…fun.”