Elven EnchantmentElven Enchantment Willa Okati All rights reserved. Copyright ©2005 by Willa Okati No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. ISBN 1-59596-164-X Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1561 Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor: Katriena Knights Cover Artist: Angela Knight This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers. Chapter One Days like this were enough to make a girl wish she batted for the other team. Men! Ciara ignored the noise of the bar to pick at the label on her bottle of imported beer, shredding the edges with her short-clipped nails. No polish; just a thin coat of gloss. Most men weren’t worth the spit to shine your shoes with. At least, not the men she’d had the misfortune to date. Most recently, Paul. She growled under her breath and tore off a strip of label. Men like Paul could drive a woman to drink. That -- that moron, Paul. Sweet as honey when they first met, but with a Madonna/whore complex to end all Madonna/whore complexes. He’d told her she had no imagination in bed, even that she was frigid, but she found out later that he’d been going straight from her to Hooker’s Row every time they slept together. Just today, she’d thrown the pictures the private detective had taken into Paul’s face and told him to go fuck himself. Then she changed her number and headed to O’Dougal’s, the best -- okay, the only -- Irish bar in her area. It was St. Patrick’s Day, and when better to pay the place a visit? She liked O’Dougal’s, although it would never win any awards for class. All dark woods and dim light, with folk singers and occasionally a Celtic band. Things went on in that bar that wouldn’t see the light of day in any other bar -- God, the hookups she’d watched -- but they always had a booth available for someone who needed it, and the best beer in bottles or on tap that she could want. She took a sip and muffled a slight burp behind her hand. So she’d wanted a bottle tonight. Not as classy as a glass with a head of foam, but hey, what did she have to worry about with class? No one else here cared. She could sit in her corner booth in the near-dark, drink herself silly, and call a cab to take her home to her lonely bed. And that’s just what she planned to do. The Irish band tonight was on a break, quaffing down ale at the bar. The way they were going, she’d be surprised if they had the cognitive ability to go on halfway in tune. A rowdy little college-age gang, they had a nice enough hand with the fiddle and the bodhran. They were all too young for her, though, even if she had been looking. Other people in the bar worth noticing? Well, there was a woman with long, curly blond hair, hanging on a nicely dressed man’s arm. She was tottering on stiletto heels and wore more makeup than a trowel could shovel on, but he didn’t seem to care. Ciara made a small disgusted noise. Probably like one of those ladies Paul had seemed to go after so much. Two women sat at a table, eagerly discussing something. Looked like young businesswomen out for a night on the town. They’d flipped over the paper placemat and were scribbling frantic notes on it. Ciara watched them with interest. At least they seemed like they were having fun. She was a people-watcher. Always had been. It served her well in her job as a secretary at the law firm. She could tell the good clients from the bad ones. Her bosses relied on her intuition. Too bad that same savvy sucked when it came to dating. She took another swig, finishing the bottle. Right on cue -- another reason she liked O’Dougal’s -- the bartender waved at her and sent a perky little thing over with a second icy brew. Ciara passed her a five. After thought, she gave her a fifty -- what the hell? -- and said, “Keep ’em coming. When I can’t count how many bottles are on the table, call me a cab.” “Man troubles, sweetie?” the barmaid said sympathetically. “Work got you down?” Ciara sniffed into her sweet, sweet beer. “That rotten loser,” she said miserably. “Why I ever trusted him…” “Man troubles.” The barmaid poked a pencil behind her ear and pocketed the fifty. She jerked her thumb back at the bar. “Not that I’d be interested while I was in your situation, but you should check out the floor show.” “I’ve been listening to the band.” The barmaid giggled. “Not the band.” She pointed again. “Them.” Ciara followed her finger to a dark corner of the bar. Her mouth fell open a little. Two men, each one a hunk of the highest order, wrapped around each other like white on rice. Mouth to mouth, they kissed as if they’d eat each other alive starting from the lips and moving on down. Hands roved over backs and down to gorgeous, tight asses in leather pants. “Whoa,” she said faintly. “Ain’t that the truth?” The barmaid grinned. “Men get hot thinking about two women. So women get hot thinking about two men.” She wasn’t wrong. Ciara could feel her nipples starting to pucker as she stared at the men. One light, long and lean, wearing eyeliner and a shirt halfway unbuttoned, showing off a ripped chest. The other taller and stockier, dark, with big hands that looked like they knew what they were doing. From the way Blondie humped against him, Ciara guessed that they did. Both men wore their hair long, sweeping their shoulders and blending together in a curtain of blond and black. A shudder of excitement washed through her. The barmaid grinned at her. “I just knew that would catch your eye.” More than my eye. Ciara wriggled a little, trying to ease the sudden pulsing between her legs. God, but they looked hot together. “You enjoy the pretty action, hon. I’ll keep the beer flowing.” “Yeah,” Ciara said absently. “You do that.” Okay, so she might have to revise her opinion on all men being good for nothing. At least these two were pretty. Too bad they looked like they were only into each other. Her pussy was starting to ache from wanting a taste of Blondie -- and hell, a sample of Mr. Dark and Delicious, for that matter. “And Paul called me frigid,” she muttered into her beer. “Look at me. Getting off on the gay action. That’s me, all right. One wild and crazy girl.” Who talked to herself. Wasn’t that the first sign of madness? Or being drunk? She hadn’t eaten anything all day, so the beer might be hitting her harder than usual. But it tasted so good, washing down her throat in cool bursts of flavor. She rounded her lips around the neck of the bottle, still staring at the two men. She couldn’t look away. Tilting it back, she took a wonderful, icy sip. Mmm. There was something else she’d rather have her lips on, and she knew it. Stupid Paul. The one time she’d tried to go down on him, he’d pushed her away. Said he didn’t want that from her. And to be frank, she hadn’t made an issue out of it. Oral sex, not so much her thing. Besides, he was a little -- she snickered, able to admit it now -- on the small side. Overcompensating much? But she knew her way around a man’s cock. College life had taught her how to please a man. You just had to put your lips together… and blow. She laughed again. Maybe a little too loudly. At the bar, Blondie and Dark startled apart from their passionate embrace and turned to glance at her. She colored deeply, flicking her eyes down -- but not before she saw Blondie give her a leer and a wink. Saw Mr. Dark’s lips curve into a smile. “I’m not just kinky, I’m a pervert,” she muttered to herself, tearing off a fresh strip of label. The table was getting messy. “But hell, why not? Enjoy it while you can.” “That’s always been my philosophy.” It was Ciara’s turn to jump. Sliding in across from her, confident as if he had every right in the world to be there, a short and ugly man wearing a horrible green bowler hat gave her a grin. He had his own glass of beer, and used it to gesture at the men. “Nice scenery, huh?” Ciara gathered her dignity. “Look, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I so don’t feel like company. If you don’t get out this second, and I mean now, I’m calling the bouncer over.” He held up both hands. “Easy, easy! All I’m sayin’ is, you’re not the only one gettin’ into the floor show.” Despite herself, Ciara glanced up through her lashes. Still standing at the bar, Blondie and Dark were at it again, Blondie lavishing kisses down Dark’s neck. Dark had his head thrown back, and his fingers threaded through Blondie’s hair, as if he were in ecstasy. Their groins rubbed together, gyrating in a slow dance. Fuck, but it was sexy. Ciara wriggled again. Then she gave herself a good mental slap. No staring at the pretty men. Focus on the toad. He was still sitting across from her, grinning. “Knew you liked it,” he said smugly. “Listen, you,” Ciara said, angry over having to deal with yet another man who didn’t seem to understand plain English. “Get out of my booth. Or I’m not kidding, I’ll have you out of here on your ass.” “So defensive. Got all those walls built up inside, don’t you? Can’t let them down.” The man took a swig of ale. “Now, take those two. While you’re not watching them, they’re watching you.” “They’re what, now?” Ciara’s head shot up. Sure enough, Blondie and Dark had stopped their heavy petting and were gazing at her. Hands wound together, hips joined as if fused, but giving her heavy-lidded looks that promised sex better than chocolate and a whole lot more. “I happen to know them. They’re into each other, but they like a little pussywillow, too, you know what I mean?” Ciara tore her gaze away from the men, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. “Listen, you --” He cut through her anger with an offer that went straight to her… well, it wasn’t her heart. “Take it easy, I keep telling you! You want a piece of that? Want to be the filling in that sandwich? All you’ve got to do is ask.” Ciara eyed him suspiciously. “And who are you to say so?” “Me? I’m a leprechaun. And okay, no rainbow, but it’s been a gray St. Patrick’s Day for you and I figured you could use a pot of gold.” The man winked at her. “It’s all yours, if you wanna take it.” Ciara looked down at her beer. “I -- I --” She glanced up. Her lips parted. The man was gone. Vanished, like he’d never even been there. “What the hell?” She craned her neck and stared around, but no one in sight even vaguely resembled him. She gave a shiver. Okay, that was definitely odd. But… what if he’d been telling the truth? Half-shy, she looked up at the men. Blondie was staring at her, his lips quirked in a smile. He ran his hand down Mr. Dark’s chest, tweaking one nipple through his shirt, and grinned at her. Mr. Dark didn’t lower himself to a smile, but gave her a look that smoldered. God, he could set her on fire with those eyes. As if he already hadn’t. Her panties were growing damp. “Kinky,” she said to herself. “I can do kinky. Stupid Paul. He’ll never know what he missed out on.” Taking a last, final draught of her beer, she gathered all the courage she could scrape together and slid out of her booth. Walking over to the men at the bar seemed to take ages, but then she was there, facing them down. “I saw you staring,” she said, her voice low. “See anything you like?” “A great deal,” Blondie said. “An unhappy lady, in need of a little affection.” “Take that hair down,” Mr. Dark said in a voice like silk and sex. “I want to see it spilling over those pretty breasts of yours.” She colored and drew back, abashed by his bold words despite her determination to go for the kink. “No, no,” he chided. “Here, let me do it.” He reached out for her with those long, strong hands and gently undid the pins holding her hair in its knot. Unbound, it scattered across her shoulders and down her chest in a riot of flame-colored locks. Mr. Dark gave a soft, satisfied noise. “There. Isn’t that better?” Ciara turned a little darker. Damned Irish complexion. “Such green eyes,” Blondie murmured. “Like jewels, they are. Little hearts of the ocean.” “She’s a pretty thing,” Mr. Dark murmured, reaching out to run a hand through Ciara’s hair. “You’ve been watching us, little one. Enjoy the show?” Kinky. Remember the kink. Ciara straightened her spine. “Yeah,” she said brazenly, “I have been. You guys are hot together.” Blondie laughed. “Can’t be denying that. But a woman like you, now… that’s the sort of woman who needs a little action herself.” Ciara faced him down, green eyes meeting startling blue. “Why? Are you offering?” Both Blondie and Mr. Dark laughed at that. “Would you take us up on it, if we did?” Mr. Dark wanted to know. Ciara frowned. She reached past them, aiming for one of their forgotten glasses of ale. She took a deep swallow that left foam on her lip. “I --” “Ah-ah-ah,” Mr. Dark said. “Let me get that.” He lowered his mouth to hers, tongue tracing away the beer and teasing at the seal of her lips. With a soft moan, she opened to him. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, stroking gently. Behind her, she could feel Blondie nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Being the meat in a man-wich was something she’d never done. But damn if it didn’t feel good. The scrap of silk between her legs was soaking, they’d gotten her so hot. When Mr. Dark drew back reluctantly for air, his hand replaced his mouth, stroking her cheek. “I think this is the one, Seanan,” he murmured. Blondie -- Seanan -- lifted his lips from her throat. “I think you’re right, Ardal.” Mr. Dark -- no, Ardal -- reached down to caress her breast, cupping it in one hand. She glanced around quickly, afraid that the barmaid might be watching, but no, she was busy with other customers. With the other hand, he caught her fingers and squeezed them gently. “Are you interested, little one?” “It’s Ciara,” she said breathlessly. She knew she was ten shades of red, but she was an inch away from rubbing herself against Ardal like a wanton kitten. “And yeah, I’m up for it.” Frigid? She’d show Paul frigid. Out with the Madonna, in with the whore. And it felt good. Something wicked made her reach down to cup Ardal’s erection through his pants, hard as rock and twitching as if it knew how much she wanted it. Wanted it in her. “I think you’re up for a little action, too.” Ardal bent down for another kiss, this one a little hungrier, more demanding. He tore his mouth away to whisper against her lips. “Then close your eyes. Seanan, take us back to the room.” Seanan bit gently on the smooth nape of Ciara’s neck. “On our way.” Ciara shut her eyes. She felt a strange sensation of whirring, and then -- Chapter Two “What the -- how the hell?” Ciara blinked. The smoke and noise of O’Dougal’s bar had vanished in an instant, leaving behind only cool silence. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she, Ardal, and Seanan were alone in a vast room filled with softly cushioned chairs, vases of crimson roses, candles, and a bed… she swallowed. A bed more than big enough for three, draped in white linen, with hangings forming a canopy. Ardal smiled at her. “Do you like it?” “Like it?” Ciara stared around. She swallowed. “It’s beautiful.” And made for seduction. “But I don’t remember leaving the bar. How’d we get here?” “You don’t remember?” Seanan’s voice was teasing as he knelt at her feet. She realized that she sat in one of the plushest chairs, her sweater contrasting like a pauper’s rags against its velvet richness. Come to think of it, she looked like a poor relation next to Ardal and Seanan in their leather and silk. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “No. I don’t.” “Ah, it’ll come back to you,” Ardal soothed. “Come, now. Another sample of what I tasted before.” He bent to her, pressing his lips against her own. Despite her state of surprise and mild alarm, Ciara couldn’t help herself. She moved back against him, her hands coming up to caress the silk of his shirt, to touch his chest through it. As his tongue swept her mouth, thrusting gently in and out, her core began to pulse in time with the rhythm. Oh… oh, yeah. This was why she’d come with the two men. They were sex, pure sex, on legs. And she wanted some of that. Ugly little gnome with the bad hat was right, she thought hazily. Ardal drew back and reluctantly swept her bottom lip with a thumb. “Not so fast,” he murmured. “Time for more, soon.” She gazed at him with wide eyes. “Really soon?” He laughed. “Yes, little one. Really, really soon.” “My turn now.” Seanan nuzzled one of her knees. “You’re too far down.” “Am I?” His eyes sparkled at her. “Bend to me.” Well, why not? Ciara leaned over, her hair falling in a curtain around their faces as she touched her lips to Seanan’s. He raised up to meet her, eagerly clasping her cheeks between the palms of his hands. And oh, God, he moved like a master, his tongue just as skillful as Ardal’s. “I can taste you both together,” he whispered. “It’s like nectar.” “And you know from nectar?” Ciara replied in a breath of a voice. “I do.” He laid one last kiss on the corner of her mouth, then sank back on the balls of his feet. “I want to see more of you, sweet lady. Will you let me?” Remember the bar. How sexy these guys were, all over each other. How she’d wanted a taste of that. “Yes,” she said bravely. Both men laughed. “Such bravado!” Ardal sounded fond, but not at all patronizing. “Seanan, show her what you mean.” “With gladness.” Seanan drew one of Ciara’s feet into his lap. He studied her lace-ups, then turned to Ardal with a disappointed frown. “Sneakers.” “Nothing’s wrong with those.” “But so clumsy, so heavy.” “You pay too much attention to the shell.” “They should be glass slippers,” Seanan said, caressing her ankle with the ball of his thumb. “But perhaps you’re right, Ardal. Let’s see.” Ever so slowly, he unlaced her sneakers and pulled them off, pushing them to one side. She hadn’t bothered to wear socks, and her feet were bare in his lap when he’d finished. “Ahhh,” he breathed. “You were right. These are fine indeed.” Ciara blushed. She did have pretty feet, with a delicate arch and slender toes, but… “They’re just feet.” “You give yourself too little credit.” Seanan gave her a wicked look, then lifted one foot to his mouth. Twinkling at her, he slipped her big toe between his lips and suckled. Ciara gasped. No one… no one had ever… A bolt of liquid heat shot through her pussy. Already wet, she felt her juices begin to flow anew as Seanan laved her flesh with his skilled tongue. He feathered his fingers under her sole, tickling ever so gently, and each touch was like a caress between her thighs. He pulled off, licking his lips. “You liked that,” he said, running his hand up her calf. “I can smell you. You’re fragrant as one of these roses. Ready to unfurl for us. Yes?” Ciara stared at him with wide eyes. Remember the kink… remember the… oh, hell. Screw the kink. She just wanted more of this. “I do. I am. More. Give me more.” Seanan and Ardal laughed together. “Then stand up,” Ardal said. “Let us adore you.” Each took her by a hand, pulling gently. “On your feet, pretty miss,” he coaxed. “Between us.” When she was balanced upright, Ciara found herself sandwiched by the two men, both pressing against her, Ardal behind, Seanan before. Both men rotated lightly against her. She could feel the heavy weight of erections through leather, pushing at her mons and the curves of her ass. Her breath came in soft pants. “Oh. That’s good.” “See how much we want you?” Ardal brushed back her hair to kiss her neck, trailing his lips down her shoulders. “But you’re wearing too many clothes, little Ciara. Shall we do something about that, Seanan?” “Oh, yes,” the blond agreed. He brought his hands to the front of Ciara’s sweater, tugging. “Put your arms up.” She obeyed like a child. He pulled the garment over her head and cast it aside. It fell into a pool of shadow in the corner of the room. Too late, Ciara realized she hadn’t worn a bra. She was small enough to get away with it, her breasts barely a palm-full, though they were round and ripe, tipped with crimson areolae. Blushing, she tried to cover herself. Seanan pulled her arms away. “No, don’t. These little buds deserve to be tasted.” He cupped one breast in his hand. “Ardal, can you reach?” Ardal’s bigger hand reached around, softly caressing her other breast. His fingers teased her nipple into a stiff peak, tweaking it gently. “I can.” “Good. You touch, and I taste.” Seanan lowered his mouth, and drew her breast inside it. That tongue went to work again, rolling and licking, suckling her deep. Moisture began to drip down Ciara’s thighs as he pushed against her, the weight of his cock so heavy and needy against her hungry center. But wait. This whole show was under her control, wasn’t it? And as good as that felt, she knew what she wanted. More of what she’d seen at the bar. She pushed at Seanan. He came away from her breast with a disappointed moan. “But I want,” he pouted. She gently peeled Ardal’s hand away from her other breast, though it pained her to let that warm, exhilarating touch go. “I know. But I want to see you two together.” She sank back into the chair. “Like you were at the bar,” she ordered. “Undress each other.” Ardal and Seanan exchanged looks. “Very well,” Ardal agreed. “But first, you let me do this.” He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, standing her back on her feet. He reached for the zipper to her jeans and drew it down. Ciara blushed again as the aroma of her own desire rose to meet their noses, but Ardal only smiled hungrily. “So good, to find someone who wants us,” he murmured. “Don’t be ashamed.” Moving slowly, he drew the jeans down, over her hips to the ground. “Step out,” he ordered. She obeyed, one foot after the other. A cool wind breezed through, tickling the smooth skin of her calves and thighs, chilling her wet center. She gasped at the sensation, almost like inquisitive fingers caressing her. Leaning forward, Ardal was at just the right height to nuzzle into her sodden scrap of silk panties. “Forgive me this,” he said, reaching for the sides of them. “You tempt me too much. I cannot wait.” He tore them neatly, as if they were paper, peeling them away from her pussy and casting them aside. He breathed deeply. “So delicious,” he said, his voice like a kiss. “One taste. Just one.” Behind them, Seanan caressed his cock through his leather pants, watching them both with an eager hunger, as if he wanted to see it as much as she wanted to feel it. So Ardal wanted a taste of her? Like she’d have denied him anything. Instead, reaching down, she threaded her hands through that dark hair and pushed him closer, bringing his mouth up against the thatch of wet red curls between her legs. He chuckled, the vibrations making her entire body tingle. His tongue flickered out, running along the seam of her cunt. “Sweet,” he said. “So very sweet.” “More!” she demanded, spreading her legs a little wider. Seanan placed his hands over her bare shoulders, rubbing gently. “You’ll have plenty,” he purred. “Ardal, show her what that mouth of yours can do.” “With pleasure.” Ardal delved into her then, his tongue sliding between her folds. His fingers came up to pull them softly apart to give him better access to her core. He lapped up her juices, whispering things under his breath in a language she couldn’t understand. Gaelic? With a soft chuckle, he lifted a little and found her throbbing bud. “This wants attention, doesn’t it, now?” Placing a hand underneath each curve of her ass, he lapped at her clit once, twice, again, then took it into his mouth and sucked hard. Ciara’s body, already thrumming with tension, convulsed. She let out a short scream as she came, muscles shaking fiercely. Her hands clamped down on Ardal’s hair, but he only laughed and licked at her, drinking her down like wine. When she could breathe again, both men were there, pressing her into the chair. Boneless, hair tangled across her damp cheeks, she stared up at them. “Now,” Ardal said, wiping his face with his fingers and suckling off the dampness. “You wanted a show, did you?” She nodded dumbly. “Then a show you will have.” Ardal turned to Seanan, fingers running down his chest. “Love, let me show you to her. Every bit of you.” Seanan grinned, spreading his arms wide. “Do it. I want her to see.” Quick as a flash, Ardal’s fingers darted down the buttons of Seanan’s shirt. It parted like water and slid off his shoulders in a pool of silk, leaving his chest bare. Ciara’s lips parted at the sight. So pale and perfect, like a marble statue. Muscles so defined that they looked carved. How could she possibly compare to that, with her soft curves? “You’re perfect as you are,” Seanan said, as if he could read her mind. “No moving those hands to cover your tasty aspects. I want to see and smell your reaction as we do this.” Ciara stilled her fingers, which had been twitching to lift for her to hide behind. Lowering her hands to the chair, she watched as Seanan returned the favor with Ardal, peeling away his shirt with quick, practiced movements. Dark and delicious was no less perfect in his way. Broader, more solid, and just as hard and delectable. The men gazed at each other, hands roving over solid chests -- then, as if they couldn’t bear not to, came together in a harsh, bruising kiss. Ardal pinned Seanan’s wrists at his stomach. His fingers splayed across his cock, the tip of it poking out the top of his leather pants, shining and wet. Slowly, almost shyly, Ciara’s hands crept to her pussy. She fingered herself carefully, just slipping one hand through the folds. “Now the leather,” she said breathlessly. It’s my party. “I want to see you naked. All of you.” The two men parted, licking their lips. Two sets of gleaming eyes turned on her. “Your wish is our command,” Seanan said, reaching for his zipper. Ardal followed suit, gazing at her as if she held the world in the palm of her hand. The leather scooted down their legs as smoothly as silk. They kicked the pants aside and stood before her, bare of any stitch, their erections flat against their stomachs. Pre-come bubbled out of the slits at their uncut tips, their foreskins drawn back and purple heads bulging. Ciara inhaled deeply. She stroked herself a little more boldly, trembling. “You’re gorgeous,” she said, and meant it. “No one on Earth should look that sexy and live.” The two men laughed. “You’re half right,” Seanan said. He ran a hand down his cock, squeezing it. “Do you see this? I want to plunge it inside you, to feel you melt around me and press down tight. Do you want that, Ciara? Want to feel me deep within?” “She’s tempting as Hell itself,” Ardal breathed. He moved behind Seanan and kissed his jaw. “But you may have her first,” he said. “I cede my right. So long as I can take you at the same time.” All three of them… at once? Ciara shook hard as her second orgasm of the night hit her. The two men were there immediately, petting and caressing her. Seanan, the little devil, took advantage and plunged his face between her thighs, getting his own taste of her juices. When he drew back, his lips shining, they were curved in a smile. “I’m doubly right. You do taste of nectar.” Ciara shivered, shook, and stared up at them. “You,” she said slowly. “You.” “Yes. Me.” Ardal put an arm around Seanan’s waist. “No more of this,” he said, voice rough. “To the bed. The time for waiting and playing is over.” Seanan arched back against him, rubbing shamelessly. “Yes,” he agreed. “Ciara? Will you?” He lowered his hands to her. She gripped them, once again feeling lighter than air as he raised her to her feet. Despite her double climax, she ached and burned deep inside. She wanted that cock buried in her, and she wanted it now. “Bed,” she said, reaching for Seanan. “Both of you.” Seanan chuckled. He swooped her up into his arms and laughed at the look of surprise on her face. “You’re little as a posy,” he teased. “Don’t be so shocked.” “I’m not shocked. I just -- I --” Soft linens met her back as Seanan lowered her onto the left side of the bed. Oh, God. This was a wanton’s bed, created for pure pleasure. Feeling as bold as a hustler, she spread her legs wide and beckoned with both hands. “Come,” she invited. “You want me? Take me.” Seanan inhaled sharply. “Go on.” Ardal gave him a slight push. “Then me.” The blond man climbed over Ciara, into the middle of the bed, rolling her onto her side facing him. His cock teased at her entrance, not quite penetrating but only nudging at her folds. She whimpered and pushed forward, but he held her off. “Not quite yet,” he said hoarsely. “Ardal prepares me first.” “Ardal prepares…?” Craning her neck, Ciara saw and felt the weight of the man lowering himself onto the bed. He reached for an ornately carved box on the side table, rummaging inside. “What’s that?” she asked, curious. “The toy chest?” Seanan laughed and kissed her, all too briefly. “I don’t need toys to make you come. Nor does he. It’s lubricant, to ease his passage.” “Lubricant.” Startled realization flashed over her. “So he’s going to… while you and I…” “He is.” Seanan kissed her again. “Does that bother you?” Bother her? Hell, the thought of being on the receiving end of that was better than being sandwiched in the middle. “No,” she said breathily. “Not at all.” Ardal leaned up on one elbow. “Good.” He smiled wickedly. “I would have done it to him if you had agreed or not.” He ran his hand over the arch of Seanan’s hip. “Look at him. So tempting. As fine a treat as you yourself, only different.” He uncapped a small tube. The scent of sandalwood filled the air. “Come,” Seanan whispered. “Put your leg over mine. Yes, like that.” With her thigh draped over his, his cock nudging ever deeper into her folds, Ciara could feel Seanan trembling, could feel the ripples from Ardal’s fingers penetrating him. “Does it feel good?” she whispered. “Would I like it?” “You would love it,” he promised, kissing her nose. “And sometime, we’ll take you that way. But for now, we take this path.” “It’s a good one,” she said, putting her arm over Seanan’s side to play with Ardal’s chest, brushing his nipples with her fingertips. “Very good.” Seanan bucked and shook as Ardal’s fingers twisted. “Oh, yes,” he panted. “Very good.” Ardal put the bottle aside. Ciara caught one glimpse of his cock, gleaming with lube, before he lowered himself onto his side. “Open for me,” he whispered. “We do this now.” “Are you ready?” Seanan asked Ciara. “Say no, and I’ll forbear.” In answer, she pushed against him, spearing herself on the tip of his cock. She gasped at how good it felt, so slick and tight. “Ready.” Ardal’s arm, long and lean, came over Seanan to grasp Ciara’s bicep. “Then we make love,” he said, his voice gravelly. He pushed forward with his hips, driving slowly into Seanan, pushing him deep inside Ciara. All three drew in a breath with the bliss of it. “Tight…” “Hot…” “Wet…” “Smooth…” “Slick…” “Mine.” “Mine.” Ciara echoed them, grasping Seanan tight, and brushing her fingertips across Ardal’s chest. “Mine.” Then, there were no more words. Only Seanan, thrusting into her time and again, spurred on by Ardal’s thrusts. His way grew smoother as she melted from within, and pre-come slicked its way down his cock. He writhed and groaned as he pushed into her, and Ardal pounded into him. Hands gripped tighter, legs wound round about one another, and they moved as one, push-pull, push-pull, gliding deep and fast. Ciara’s core throbbed. Seanan seemed to know just where to hit. Her internal muscles clamped down hard on his cock, milking it so that he gasped for breath. “Coming,” she managed to stammer, kissing him full and open-mouthed. “Going to come again, Seanan.” “I -- I too,” Seanan rasped. “Ready for me, sweet Ciara?” “So ready.” He slipped a hand between them and began to rub his thumb against her clit while thrusting. “Come,” he panted. “Come, come, come…” With another cry, ripped from her gut, Ciara exploded into the light. She felt her muscles squeeze powerfully, tearing the orgasm from Seanan. Hot pulses of seed hit her womb, triggering a fourth set of spasms. From the sound of Ardal’s cries, and Seanan’s shaking -- God, she could almost feel that second cock, brushing against the lips of her pussy --- she knew that he felt the bliss, too. He saw the white light. Coming down was long and slow, full of heavy breathing and lazy, sweeping caresses over bare skin. Seanan kissed her as if he never wanted to stop, tangling his tongue with hers in a languid post-coital dance. Ciara felt as if she were floating in a dream. This is kink, she thought happily. And God, but I could get used to it. Please, let them stick around for a while. I want more of this. More of Seanan and Ardal. I want Ardal to have his turn at me. I want… I want… more. Just more. Please? She laughed a little as Seanan slipped free of her in a gush of fluids. She felt his jerk as Ardal pulled out of him. Tugging harder, the darker man brought them together in a tight embrace. “You are the one we’ve been looking for,” he said, his voice gentle and slow. “We’ve searched for ages, Seanan and I. But you’re woman enough for the both of us, little Ciara.” “Ages?” She giggled. “You’re no older than I am. In fact, you --” She stopped. Her hand, moving on its own accord, had reached up to smooth the tangled hair away from Seanan’s face. As she did so, it fell away from his ears. They weren’t human ears. Elegantly pointed at the tip, pierced with silver hoops, and tattooed on the inside whorl with a Celtic design. He blinked at her, and it was as if a haze cleared from her vision. She saw Seanan’s eyes changed from human eyes to those of a cat, the pupils ovoid and pointed. He drew away from her. “Ardal, she sees!” Ardal lifted his head. His eyes, too, had changed, and now that she looked she could see the pointed ears peeking through his hair. “Ciara, don’t be alarmed. We mean you no harm. We only just --” “Only just, hell!” she cried, scrambling out of bed. “Who are you? What are you?” Chapter Three Still naked, Ciara scrambled away from Ardal, Seanan, and the great big bed. She stopped at a safe distance and stared at them. God, how had she ever taken them for human? With their ears, and their eyes -- the perfection of their skin and bodies -- She stifled a dry sob. Figures. I can’t get a normal guy to look at me twice. What do I end up with? Aliens! “Not aliens,” Ardal said, putting out a hand as if to a frightened kitten. “Elves.” Ciara cracked up. “Elves? How crazy do you think I am?” “What other explanation do you have?” Ardal slid out of bed. Now that her eyes were clear, she could see elegant Celtic tattoos curling down his chest and legs. Knots and bars and loops, each one gorgeously done. “Seanan and I are princes in Under-hill.” “Oh, God. Are you the insane one, or am I?” Ciara cast a frightened look around herself. “Under-hill, huh? Is that where we are? Did you do some kind of hocus pocus back in the bar and whisk us away to your home?” “No, pretty one.” Seanan followed Ardal. Tattooed like the other man, he slid to his knees in front of Ciara. “We’re in a hotel just up the street. We’ve lived in this room for weeks now, searching for the right one.” “And that’s me?” When the men nodded, Ciara let loose with another laugh. “Right one? For what? A three-way sandwich with a creamy center?” “So crude,” Seanan chided. “You have a mouth on you, but you’re the one we’ve been waiting for. No one has dared to take on both of us at once before.” “And I guess you’ve been playing the field, huh? A new damsel every night?” “Not every night.” Ardal regarded her steadily. “But we have been searching, yes. And finally, we’ve found you.” Ciara put her hands on her hips, and realized she was still naked. Blushing, she reached for a hotel robe, hanging on a hook -- “Don’t. Oh, don’t,” Ardal pleaded. “Let us look at you. So beautiful. So perfect.” Ciara let the robe drop. “See, that’s what I don’t get. I’m not beautiful. And perfect? Perfect for what? What is it you’ve been looking for that apparently I have?” “You have the heart to love both of us,” Seanan said gravely. “To accept us for what we are -- lovers, friends, partners. If you let yourself, to believe that we are Elves, as we say. We have need of a mate, Under-hill.” “A mate.” Ciara blinked. “Okay, that’s it. I’m out of here.” “Stay but a moment more!” Ardal stood. “Ciara, hear us out,” Seanan added, as if he were the other half of Ardal’s voice. “It’s not what it sounds like to you, at first.” “It sounds like a whole bunch of St. Patrick’s Day moonshine and malarkey.” Ciara waved her hands at them. “I see it, now. Fake ears and contact lenses. The tattoos, okay, you might have had those covered with makeup that came off. But no way are you Elves. And there’s no-how on God’s green earth that you’re going to convince me to be your mate based on one round of hot sex.” Ardal reached forward, managing to snag her hands in his. The feel of them, dry and warm, sent a tingle through Ciara’s traitorous body. Stop that! she snapped at herself. These guys are nuts! “Ciara,” he said gravely, “Seanan speaks the truth. We need a mate. Elves cannot breed with other Elves, and our race is dying. We love one another, forming bonds close as the heart can twine, but we are coming to an end. We need fresh blood, mortal blood, to prosper again.” “Fresh blood.” Ciara’s mouth fell open as she realized something. “Condom! You didn’t use a condom! You could have gotten me pregnant!” Seanan’s eyes lit up. He stretched out his hands toward her stomach. “A child,” he whispered. “One born of love and fire. Could you deny us that?” “Seanan, is she?” Ardal looked at him, expectant. Seanan closed his eyes. “She is,” he said, his face reflecting pure bliss. “Tiny as a molecule, but there is life.” “A baby,” Ciara whispered. “How can you -- you can tell, so early?” “It’s a gift we have.” Ardal pulled her into the circle of his arms. “To Seanan go the rights of the firstborn, but I will claim the second. You have another egg waiting to be fertilized. Twins will grow inside your belly, one mine and one his.” “Now just wait a minute, buster --” Ardal pressed his lips to her neck. “You want this, Ciara,” he murmured. “You’re unhappy with your life here on Earth. I can tell. I can read you. A dull job as a law secretary, men who treat you poorly, a small apartment without even the cat you long to have.” “How -- how did you --” “It is my gift,” he said simply. His lips traveled up her neck. Gently, he pushed against her. His cock, hard and ready once more, nestled between her folds. “Come and love me, Ciara. Let me have you, and fill you with my child. The future of our world.” “I’m no one’s future,” she said, gasping at the feel of him, so close to her channel. “I’m just Ciara. And I can’t be pregnant. It takes longer than that to know.” “Not with us,” Seanan said. He stood, coming around behind her. “Go on, Ciara,” he urged. “Love him. Let love increase.” He slid a hand around to caress her flat belly. “You carry a son,” he whispered. “My son.” “I… I don’t… I can’t…” Seanan disappeared into the bathroom, and reappeared with a sudsy washcloth. Tender as could be, he washed Ardal’s erect cock, finishing by brushing his hand down the length of it. “He’s ready for you now, Ciara,” he said. “Take him.” “There is no don’t,” Ardal murmured. “No can’t. Just think. Just feel.” “Oh, God.” “Yes,” he said. “I remember you crying the name. Now, cry for me again.” With one thrust he entered her, her core still slick and wet from her own juices and Seanan’s come. The power of his movement almost lifted her off her feet. She let out a low cry as she was speared. Ardal was huge, almost too big, but oh, it hurt so good! And then Seanan was behind her, steadying her hips. “Take him in,” he said softly into one ear. “Take all of him. Bear down with your muscles and milk him dry.” Ardal thrust again. “So tight,” he said, his voice choked. “So hot. So wet. And getting wetter. For me, Ciara?” Embarrassed, Ciara felt liquid pooling inside her. The powerful thrusts of his cock inside made her flow, coating him with honey. “It’s not…” “Oh, but it is.” He bent forward, suckling on the curve of her neck. “Will you come for me?” “Four times already,” she said. “I can’t. I don’t --” “Seanan,” Ardal said. “Your hands.” Those slim, clever fingers slipped around to Ciara’s clit, caressing it tenderly as Ardal thrust. They pulled and tugged, then stroked her. The pulse between her legs began to beat fiercely again, and she recognized the signs of a fifth mind-blowing climax coming on. She clamped down on Ardal, squeezing him tight. “You,” she accused. “You’ve done this to me. Enchanted me.” “Nothing that you didn’t want,” Seanan said against her shoulder blade. “Deep down, if you look, you’ll see that you wanted this all along. A man to love and cherish you. Now you have not one, but two.” Ciara writhed on Ardal’s shaft. She could feel herself beginning to fall. Almost there… He thrust again, roaring out his pleasure, and with the sound, she collapsed across his chest, fireworks exploding in front of her eyes. When she came to, they were on the floor, the three of them, Ciara draped across Ardal and Seanan’s laps. They were petting and stroking her, neatening her hair and washing her down with a warm, damp cloth. “You,” she said, blinking. “How did you do that to me?” Ardal’s lips quirked. “Do what, Ciara? Make you believe us?” “Make you love us?” Seanan asked. “All of it.” Ardal pressed tenderly down on her belly. “Seanan has read you. A daughter, my own daughter, tiny as his son, lives within you now.” “Babies,” she whispered. “Two of them.” “Our children, and yours.” Ardal bent to kiss her forehead tenderly. “You take to our seed as the hummingbird to nectar.” “I’m not a… not a breeding machine,” she said. “I won’t be a baby factory for you.” Both men laughed. “No one is asking you to be a machine, a thing,” Seanan said, smoothing back her hair. “We know how to use protection. Only, once in a while, would we ask such a precious gift of you.” “For the good of your race.” “For us.” Ardal’s lips slid down to cover her mouth. His tongue tenderly traced her lips. “Say you’ll come with us, Ciara. Home to Under-hill. Be one of us. Immortal while you bide there. Forever young and beautiful.” “And both of you… you’ll be together?” she asked, turning red. “I can watch you love each other, as much as you love me?” “Do you think you could part us?” Ardal ran a hand down Seanan’s chest. “He is my heart’s love, just as you are. Say you will, Ciara. Say you’ll come.” Ciara closed her eyes for a long moment, thinking hard. Say that she did go with these men -- Elves -- to their land. Say she believed them about the babies. About the hope that together, they would be a unit. A family. Her heart ached to believe that it was true, just as her body trembled with the aftershocks of orgasm. Why… why not? What did she have to lose, after all? Going with them might be a mistake, but it would be a glorious one. That she was sure of. She opened her eyes. “Could I have a kitten?” she whispered. Ardal laughed. “You can have as many of the pretty, furry, purry creatures as you want,” he swore. “Is that a yes? You’ll come with us?” “Yes,” Ciara said slowly. She dared to smile up at the men. Blondie and Dark & Delicious. Ardal and Seanan. Elves. Elves! Both of them, wanting her so much. “I’ll go with you.” Seanan took one of her hands, and Ardal the other. “Then it’s time for that ‘hocus pocus’ you mentioned earlier,” he said with a twinkling smile. “Close your eyes, Ciara.” Obediently, she let her lashes fall shut against her cheeks. She felt a blurring, a whirling, and a sudden stop. When she opened them, the three of them were in a forest glade. Night had well and truly fallen, and through a break in the trees she could see a glorious full moon high above. The sounds of music and dancing came from a short distance away, as well as the flickering light of a bonfire. Ardal and Seanan stood, helping her up. “Garb yourself in the sky,” Seanan said, waving a hand. A long dress of indigo fell around her shoulders, the skirts brushing the forest floor. He and Ardal made similar gestures, and were suddenly clothed in tunics and breeches of the same color. Hers, she realized, sparkled as if the stars themselves had come down to light on her skirts. “Come and dance,” Seanan invited, offering his arm. “Join us in the circle. Be one of us.” Ciara laughed in delight. “Forever young,” she whispered. “Forever with you.” Ardal kissed her tenderly. “Always. Will you dance with us, to seal the pact?” “Dance with you?” She took both their arms, and tugged them forward. “Have you ever seen the Electric Slide performed to drum and whistle?” Ardal frowned. “No.” “Well, get ready for a surprise,” she said, grinning broadly. “I have a few things of my own to teach you.” Ardal smiled; Seanan threw back his head and laughed loud and long. “Fiery Ciara!” he exclaimed, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Come and teach us.” “Others are waiting for us,” Ardal said. “Are you ready?” Ciara glanced down at her gown made from the sky and stars, and at the men flanking her sides. She laughed in delight. “Lead on, gentle sirs,” she said gaily. “Lead on, and let’s dance!” It turned out to be the first time that the Boot-Scootin’ Boogie had been performed Under-hill. But it wasn’t the last. Not by a long shot. THE END Willa Okati Willa Okati is a long-time devotee of all things vampire and supernatural, but an even bigger fan of stories that feature beautiful men exploring their desires for one another. Physically, she lives in North Carolina, but mentally thrives in a world where each adventure is bigger and brighter than the next. She is also owned by far too many cats, but she insists that they serve as emissaries from the Muse and can’t spare a one of them. You can visit her at her web site, http://www.willsheornillshe.com.