Szereto, Mellanie - Two Pirates to Treasure [Bewitching Desires 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (4 page)

Orsolya gaped at him, horrified by his plan. “You can’t do that to me! Jolán said the choice is mine.”

Ethan’s blue eyes bored into her. “Who is this Yo-lawn?”

If she answered his question, would he stop interrogating her? Holding his gaze, she debated the wisdom of revealing anything about herself. His serious but kind expression seemed to beg her to trust him. “She’s my friend. She’s like a sister to me.”

“You don’t have a blood sister?” Ethan’s cohort leaned closer, sending her heart thumping in her chest.

She shook her head.

“Do you have brothers?”

What harm could come from giving them those small details? “Two brothers. One died. The other is ma-ma-married to Jolán’s cousin.” She’d almost said mated instead of married. The joinings of the Macska witches were different from those from the outside world. She’d been told that mating only involved the sexual act for people without magickal knowledge.

“Why is he not escorting you? Young ladies should not be out and about on their own.”

“I...I got...lost.” That was as good a description of her situation as any—and the statement was true—but
young
lady? Thirty years old was hardly young even in the twenty-first century, where she was
not
at the moment. Men of this time would call her an old maid if they knew her age.

Ethan walked back to the bed, taking up his place at the foot again. “I am Ethan Whitmere, and this fine gentleman is my cousin Grant Templeton. We’re quite pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss...”

Unable to resist his gentle prompting, she sighed. “Horvát. Orsolya Horvát.”

“Orsh-o-ya? You are named for Saint Ursula of Britain? Not likely, as you truly don’t speak the King’s English.” He tapped his finger against his clean-shaven chin. “Your speech suggests you are a native of one of the near eastern countries. Hungary, perhaps?”

How had he guessed the origin of her ancestors? Other than her name, she didn’t speak much of the old language. “I am of Hungarian descent.”

Removing his feathered hat, Grant tossed it toward a hook on the wall. “Ursula. Curious and cautious as a little she-bear. I sincerely hope you won’t extend your claws or bite the hands that rescued you.” He grinned at her as the hat swung back and forth on the clip. “Although a bit of scratching and nibbling would be acceptable.”

His teasing triggered a spasm between her thighs as she imagined raking her fingernails down his chest while she fucked him. With a quick glance at Ethan, the image morphed to include him standing over her with his dick in her mouth. A squeak escaped when a gush of wetness flooded her pussy. The hormonal rush the sex manual had described in chapter three assailed her.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Ethan reached out, his palm caressing her arm through her sweater. “I do believe you’ve offended our lady’s sensibilities, Grant.”

Unable to stop herself, Orsolya pulled Ethan closer by the ruffled tie around his neck and let her instincts lead her in a kiss.

Warm, soft lips pressed against Ethan’s mouth, and he opened to the insistent tongue begging for entrance. His suddenly engorged cock wanted nothing more than to enjoy a tumble with the raven-haired, gray-eyed Orsolya. That Grant sat watching less than an arm’s length from them was but a momentary thought, quickly forgotten when her fingers attacked the buttons of his coat. How many months had passed since he’d last bedded a woman?
Too damn long.

Concentrating on the sweet taste of her, he explored the moist recesses she offered to him. Something about her had sparked a protective chord in him on deck, but now she lit a new flame. Desire. Passion. Attraction so powerful he had to tighten his grip on her arms to keep from ripping her dress off her. Unfortunately—or fortunately—she began to push his sleeves down his arms, loosening his hold. Trapped by the cuffs, he struggled to free himself.

Her hands moved to his waistcoat, and she whimpered. She pulled her mouth from his. “Too many clothes. Help me, Ethan.”

He couldn’t refuse her request. Her voice conveyed a desperation that seemed to say her life depended on his cooperation. Working the cuffs over his hands, he began unbuttoning the next layer. Hell, he’d cut through the laces of her corselet rather than waste time untying them.

Her gaze skipped to his cousin before she leaned toward Grant, tugging on his clothing and kissing him with as much vigor as she’d shown Ethan. When she disentangled herself, she was panting and her skin had colored to a rosy glow. “Undress for me, Grant.
Please.
I need you both. Hurry.”

Never in his life had Ethan shared a lover with another man, but Orsolya’s pleading led him to believe she might suffer dire consequences if they didn’t give her what she wanted. She didn’t seem the kind of woman to engage in sexual dalliances, either, despite what her actions suggested. She exuded innocence.

He watched her every movement as he shed his waistcoat, cravat, and shirt. Her hands shook as she removed her thin wool jacket to reveal a scant chemise that did little to conceal her shapely form. High, full breasts drew his gaze, with points poking at the flimsy material. Dark circles shaded the area around the pert tips, showing through the light gray fabric.

Reaching for the buttons on the fly of his breeches, he tried to will his cock to shrink and loosen the fit of his trousers. His conscience also insisted he ask if she’d changed her mind. “Are you certain you wish for us to...
have
you?”

She peeled the chemise from her upper body, freeing her beautiful tits. Cradling the flesh in her palms, she plucked at her puckered nipples, sending a jolt to his balls. “You don’t want me?” She frowned. “I suppose I can give myself an orgasm if I must. I just thought...”

Was she barmy? Not that watching a woman bring her own pleasure didn’t interest him, but he preferred to take on the task, or at least share it with his cousin. “There is no need for that, Orsolya. I,
we
, do want you, do we not, Grant?”

With his breeches around his ankles and his bare ass in the air, Grant laughed. Kicking the remaining clothes off his feet, he straightened and gestured at his erect penis. “Sweet Orshy, do I appear as a man not overcome with desire for you? I fear I will come before giving you due attention.”

Her eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds. “I may be inexperienced, but I know what I want. Lie on the bed, Grant. I wish to ride you while I give Ethan a blow job.”

Although Ethan had never heard such references, the way her tongue made a circuit over her swollen lips seemed to suggest a blow job involved her mouth. Grant’s ride could only mean she would mount him as if he was a horse.
The lovely lady on top.

She skimmed her long skirt past her hips and down shapely legs. Only a peculiar scrap of linen covered her muff and the curve of her buttocks. With a wiggle of her hips and a push from her fingers, the cloth slid away to join the rest of her attire on the floor. A small triangle of short black curls did little to hide her treasure. Her musky scent carried to Ethan’s nose, making the work of removing his trousers that much more difficult.

As Grant stretched out on the bed, she straddled his waist, rocking forward and back over the length of his dick. A feminine moan almost had Ethan spending his seed on the mound of their clothes. “Hurry, Ethan. I want to suck you while I fuck Grant.”

The dirty words sent another jolt to Ethan’s balls, prodding him to join his cousin and their woman on the mattress. He stood over her with his knees bent, pointing his prick at her tempting lips. She wrapped a hand around Grant, guiding him to the entrance of her cunt and used the other to hold Ethan still as she licked him from root to crown. He hissed in a breath.

A loud hammering on the cabin door made them all jump, and his heart thumped in his chest.

“All hands on deck! We got a bit of rough weather blowin’ in!”

Chapter 4

“
No
, please stay with me. Don’t leave me alone!”

Orsolya’s pleading and tear-filled eyes almost convinced Grant to toss his breeches on the floor and climb back into bed with her. “Black Sam himself will come pounding on the door if we don’t get out there to help secure the sails. We shan’t be long, Orshy. I promise. The safest place for you is here in the cabin.”

Ethan pulled his shirt over his head as he tried to stuff his feet in his shoes, but a sudden shift in the ship had him grabbing at the wall. “He’s right, love. We have a responsibility to the captain, and the waves are going to get worse before they get better. You’ll be thrown overboard if you come with us.”

Giving in to the need to reassure her, Grant lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t dare gather her still-naked body against him or he’d never be able to go. “Bar the door behind us. Check the peephole if anyone knocks, and only let Ethan and me inside.”

She nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Catching the drop on his finger, Ethan leaned to kiss her too. “We’ll return soon.”

Walking away from her was the most difficult choice Grant had ever made. His instincts were screaming at him to stay, but he unbarred the door and ventured into the gusty wind with his cousin at his side.

* * * *

Disappointment and the abrupt interruption in the flood of her desire left Orsolya bereft. She understood that the men were needed on deck, but they’d been so close to appeasing her body’s drive to mate. Would Grant and Ethan want her anymore when they came back from their duties? Or had Fate taken away her chance at experiencing real sex? She could vanish by the time they returned, transported back to the Macska mansion where every man not related to her already belonged to someone else.

Suspecting that might be the case, she slipped on her clothes and sat on the edge of the bed. Several minutes passed with only the sound of shouting and the whistling wind to keep her company.

The ship rocked more violently as what seemed like a half hour crawled by. Her stomach cramped, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She trembled with shivers—from fear and from the sick feeling creeping through her. Then a clap of thunder sent her pulse racing.

Ethan? Grant? Where are you?

Pounding at the door had her surging to her feet and running to peer through the peephole. A drenched Grant stood on the other side of the solid wood panel. Relief came and went as she slid out the plank to allow him entrance. “Where’s Ethan?”

He frowned and shook his head. He didn’t mean to say the other man had been swept into the ocean, did he?

Please, no, Goddess.

“Come with me, Orsolya.”

She started to reach for his outstretched hand, but something made her pause. Why would he tell her to come outside when he’d said she was safest in the cabin?

“Come, Orsolya.” His curt tone sliced through her shattered nerves.

For some reason, she hesitated to follow him. A sense of foreboding rippled across her skin when she finally put out her hand to grasp his.

“You promised you wouldn’t open the door to anyone but Ethan or me.” Grant’s voice came from behind...Grant.

A moment later, Ethan stood between two physically identical men. “Who is this...this imposter?”

She studied both dark-haired men, unable to find a single difference in their appearances. Grabbing the doorframe, she fought to keep her balance as the ship pitched to the left.

The second Grant took a step toward her. “You look ill. Are you all right, Orshy?”

Clarity struck her with his words, and her brother’s warning from years ago echoed in her head.
Our enemy has breached the unused wings of the castle. He can fool even the most observant person with his shape shifting.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Kazmer.”

Clutching at Ethan and the man who’d asked how she felt, she closed her eyes.
Home! Please take us home!
She savored the warmth of their touch as the wind whipped at her hair and the vessel creaked. A cold spray of water hit her in the face as she was knocked off-balance by a sudden halt in the ship’s forward movement. Her eyes flew open at the forceful jolt. The deck cracked and shattered, throwing pieces of broken planks toward her. Kazmer-Grant lunged, his gnarled, morphing fingers snatching at a loose strand of her hair.