The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

each other.”

Shaking her head, she threaded her fingers through his artfully

messy hair. “Of course not. I want both of you inside me.”
Slow

exhale.
“At the same time.”

She took his hand, guiding it between her thighs. Reaching behind

her for Spencer’s hand, she led his fingers down the crease of her

bottom to her anus.

“Fuck.” Spencer’s hoarse expletive was punctuated by the pad of

his finger pressing against her tight hole.

Arching back, she increased the wonderful pressure. “Yes. I want

to ride Dane while you fuck my ass.”

Dane nuzzled her neck. “I love your sense of adventure. You’ll

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123

tell us if we’re hurting you?”

Wow. Considerate lovers. How the hell did
that
happen?
“Yeah.”

* * * *

Snagging a couple condoms from the box, Dane tossed one to

Spencer. He had some misgivings about a double-fuck, but he trusted

Wren to speak up if she didn’t like what they doing.

“Got any lube?” Spence pushed up on his elbow and nipped at her

shoulder. “I want to make sure you’re nice and slippery back here.”

“Nightstand drawer.”

Dane didn't ask why she kept a tube of KY next to her bed. Hell,

for all he knew the whole drawer was loaded with neon-colored

vibrators. The possibility of her inviting past lovers into her bed

didn’t matter because he planned to fill the role for a damn long time.

He retrieved the mostly full tube, noting a button vibe and

package of batteries. Maybe she took care of her own needs more

often than not. That thought pleased him more than he expected.

Rolling over to gather her in his arms, he kissed her, savoring the

passion in her sparring tongue. Her tits caressed his chest, the tight

nipples tickling his skin. She wiggled her hips against him and

moaned. Was Spence loosening her muscles for his invasion?

Dane moved southward to lick the perky nubs that had teased him,

circling one then the other. Pressing the globes of flesh together, he

flicked across both of her berries. “What a feast.”

His fingers dipped into the wet heat of her pussy, gliding through

her juices to find her clit. Her knee nudged him onto his back, and a

second later, she straddled his hips.

“I'm ready.” She tore open the foil packet then slowly rolled the

latex down his dick. “Looks like you are, too.”

Taking his erection in hand, he guided it inside her. Her snug

sheath hugged him like a second skin. He cradled her breasts in his

palms and rocked upward. Tingles raced to his balls. “Perfect,

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Mellanie Szereto

sweetheart.”

She leaned slightly forward. “Almost. Your turn, Spencer.”

Curving around her from behind, Spence pressed his lips to her

cheek and met Dane’s gaze.

She’s ours. Yours and mine to share, my friend.

Spence gave a nearly imperceptible nod as he straightened. Dane

was glad they could communicate with just a look. They could please

Wren all the more.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back toward Spence. “You

feel so good. Both of you. Fill me, Spencer.”

A slow rub against the underside of his cock made Dane suck in a

breath. He could actually feel Spence through the thin muscle

separating them. “Fuck, that's amazing.”

Spencer moaned. “Holy shit.”

“You can feel each other, can’t you?” Wren’s dreamy voice

assured Dane she wasn’t in any pain. “We’re all connected. Now, it’s

perfect. I want us all to come together.”

* * * *

Nothing in Spencer’s life had come this close to perfection. He

and his best friend were making love to the woman they’d both

fantasized about for years.

He slowly eased out of Wren’s beautiful ass until only a couple

inches of his erection remained inside her. “Yeah, I can feel Dane and

I can feel you. I’m not going to last long. You’re so fucking tight.”

Gliding back in, his cock bumped along Dane’s. They set an easy

rhythm. Smooth out then in. Wren’s sexy feminine gasps and moans

were driving him straight toward the point of no return.

Unbelievably, Spencer’s stiff shaft got harder, swelling against the

pressure of Dane in her pussy and the contracting muscles of her ass.

His groans mixed with those of the woman he’d waited eight long

years to hold. Dane’s harsh breathing told him his friend was ready to

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125

go with them.

“Now!” Wren’s muscles spasmed and squeezed, letting him know

that her orgasm was a mere second away, much like his.

“Come with us, Dane!” Spence’s shout echoed in his ears as Wren

arched and cried out, taking him with her.

“Fuck, yes!” Dane’s dick stiffened against his.

Tremors rippled from Wren’s body, prolonging the incredible

pleasure she’d given him. Spence slowed her fall onto Dane’s chest as

he followed her down, their shallow breathing the only sound in the

room.

“I love you.” His words blended with Dane’s voice. After

admitting it to each other, they’d finally told her what they both felt in their hearts.

“I love you, too.” Her immediate response surprised him.
Which

one of us does she mean?
“Both of you. You’re not going to make me choose, are you?”

“No, sweetheart. We don’t want you to choose.” Dane linked his

fingers with hers.

From the other side of her hand, he threaded his fingers through

both of theirs. “We want to share you. Your body, your heart. All of

you.”

She brought their joined hands to her cheek. “I’m all yours.”

THE END

HTTP://WWW.MELLANIESZERETO.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When her fingers aren't attached to her keyboard, Mellanie

Szereto enjoys hiking, Pilates, cooking, gardening, and researching

for her stories. Many times, the research partners with her other

hobbies, taking her from the Hocking Hills region in Ohio to the

Colorado Rockies and the Adirondacks of New York. Sometimes, the

trip is no farther than her garden for ingredients and her kitchen to test recipes for her latest steamy tale. Mellanie makes her home in rural

Indiana with her husband of twenty-five years and their two children,

one dog, and three cats. She is a member of Romance Writers of

America and Indiana Romance Writers of America.

SOUTHERN COMFORT

Ginger O’Brien

DEDICATION

Sometimes we are blessed to find ourselves surrounded by

wonderful and supportive friends who share our dreams and who

willing embrace all of the ups and downs of our creative personalities.

Many, many thanks to the other five fabulous ladies of The Sextet:

Annie, Cheryl, Elizabeth, Geni, and Mellanie who epitomize these

special kinds of friends, and who asked me to join them on this

terrific adventure!

Chapter 1

Natchez, Mississippi, July 3, 1865

“Perhaps I never should have come back.”

With a slight tug on the reins, and her heart beating wildly beneath

her breast, Anna BonDurant stopped her chestnut mare in the middle

of the wide, oak-lined lane and stared at the Greek Revival mansion

rising like a grand, white palace at the end of the road.
“Belle Rêve
,
”

she whispered, then added a derisive snort. “It never was my
Belle

Rêve
; never my beautiful dream…it was just the place for the

beginning of my heartaches.”

Three years had passed since she had left and last seen the house,

since she had last set foot in Natchez, since she had last been home.

You didn’t just leave, you ran away. You ran like a coward from

love. Or was it because of too much love?
The chastising thought was painful to admit. Even three years living abroad like an outcast hadn’t

been retribution enough for her cowardice. It had been simple to

blame the war or her father’s concern for her safety, but in the end it

was easier to admit the truth.
Anna Maire BonDurant, you are a weak

coward—you ran away.

Drawing a ragged breath, Anna raised her hand to the green derby

she wore and lifted the short veil away from her face. She wiped her

fingers across her cheeks, blaming the bright sunlight for the tears that burned her eyes and wet her Face. “Of course I ran away,” she

whispered. “I had just three choices—I could have stayed and

confessed my sin, I could have chosen one man over the other, but I

took the third choice. I ran. It was the only thing I could do.”

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Ginger O’Brien

The social whirl and the liaisons she had enjoyed while living in

Paris had occupied and amused her for a while, but soon everything

had become boring and meaningless. At first there had been many

exciting propositions and tempting proposals, but she hadn’t accepted

any, especially those that had resembled or hinted at a permanent

relationship. Besides, none would have helped her solve the problem

she’d left behind. No matter how festive the balls and galas had been

or how attentive or generous a new lover was, the constant ache was

always in her heart.

During the war, letters from her family had faithfully arrived.

They were filled with family news, accounts of local battles, sadly

mentioned whose sons had been wounded or weren’t ever coming

home, and often reported how many Union troops were billeted in

town. But not one single letter had ever answered the questions that

constantly weighed heavily on her heart and mind.
Did either of them

ever ask my family about me? Did either of them miss me?
She

scrubbed away another flood of tears with her hand.
Did either of

them wait for me?

Her body shook as she struggled to stifle her sobs.
Lee’s

surrender to Grant at Appomattox in April may have ended the war,

but it also meant I was no longer able to avoid facing the dilemma

waiting for me in Natchez.
It was time to come home.

Resigned to whatever awaited her now that she’d returned, Anna

tightened her hold on the mare’s reins and sighed.
I had to come back
and accept whatever life I could piece together for myself.

Crossing the Atlantic from Paris to New York had taken sixteen

miserable days of rough seas tempered by continuous days of cold

winds, rain, and boring fellow passengers. The trip by rail to St. Louis

had lasted four more tedious days. The trip to Natchez had taken

another day and a half on the James Line’s grand paddle wheeler, the

Orleans Queen.
Earlier, when the bluffs of Natchez had come into view high over the Mississippi River, Anna’s heart had begun to beat

a strong and rapid tattoo, a commingling of excitement and fear—

Southern Comfort

131

both from not knowing what the future would bring.

After the
Orleans Queen
had docked at Natchez Under the Hill, she had stood at the deck rail and searched for her family among the

crowd gathered on the levee. An hour later she was still at the rail, stunned that no one had come to welcome her home. Swallowing her

disappointment, she had quickly made arrangements for her trunks to

be delivered to
Belle Rêve. She had
paid one of the deck hands to saddle the elegant Arab mare she’d brought with her from France.

Finally, she had led the chestnut mare out of the livestock pen on the

lower deck and across the gangplank to the levee.

From the changes Anna had noticed while riding up Silver Street,

through the city of Natchez and along Liberty Road to
Belle Rêve
, progress definitely hadn’t waited for her return. In the few months

since the war had ended, new shops and homes were being built in

town and the outlying roads. The war hadn’t left too many scars on

the city. In fact, Natchez had survived very well.

Apparently tired of waiting, the mare began to fidget and paw at

the crushed mussel shells that paved the lane. Drawn from her

thoughts, Anna patted the Arabian’s neck. “Whoa, Seriffa, easy girl.

Be patient, Give me a moment to gather my courage. You’ll get a cool

drink of water and your oats soon enough.”

A slight breeze rustled through the leaves and stirred the Spanish

moss on the tall live oaks that edged both sides of the lane and arched

overhead like the buttresses of a great cathedral. Anna’s gaze scanned

the grounds of
Belle Rêve
from her mother’s rose gardens to the lacey curtains of purple, sweet-smelling wisteria that draped the gazebo and

trellises on the side lawn
.
“I’m home,” she murmured. “Home at last.”

Scarlet camellias and azaleas bordered the pillared wide porch

spanning
Belle Rêve
, but Anna kept her eyes on the front door of the house. She hadn’t expected a welcoming committee, but no one, not

her parents or her Aunt Divinity, not even Ransom, the old African

butler who had been with the BonDurant family for three generations,

had opened the door and stepped out to greet her.
Where is everyone?