Brown, Berengaria - Possess Me [Possessive Passions 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Berengaria Brown Page B

flung her over his shoulder. Stan went ahead, pressing the call button for the elevator, opening the doors when it came, then selecting their floor.
    Purple was one of the newer apartment blocks with four apartments per level. Stan and Goa’s home was on level three. The building was only four stories high as it was toward the end of the hill, which sloped down. A new building, brown apartment block, was being built just past it, and for that, the community had extended the hill. They constructed a wood-and-fabric overlay to enlarge the hill on the outside, then used the soil dug out for foundations and the building itself to make real turf and turn the hill extension into a true hill. The new turf seeded and grew over the underlay, becoming completely weatherproof and blending into the old hill seamlessly.
    Stan opened their apartment door, flicked on the lights, then together, the two men carried her over the threshold and into the bedroom. The room was decorated with green branches and flowers, the flowers woven intricately in among the greenery with the colors making patterns.
    Flower petals were strewn on the bed—pale pink roses, white jasmine, and gray-green, sharp-smelling eucalyptus leaves, contrasting with a deep burgundy-red blanket.
    “It’s beautiful,” she whispered softly.
    Quickly the men undressed her, each removing a garment in turn. Then they laid her on the bed and tied her to the headboard with long, green silk scarves, which had been laying ready on the nightstand.
    Then, to her astonishment, the men began a sing-song chant in deep, rich, baritone voices. The chant was the story of two brothers who had fallen in love with a woman and followed her from one side of the land to the other, promising her their never-ending love and attention. As they sang, Goa and Stan moved to sit on either side of her then trailed their hands over her feet, her ankles, her calves, gradually moving up her body as the heroes in the song crossed the land in pursuit of their bride.
    The story was so beautiful Shiloah couldn’t help but be drawn into the passion of the two heroes desperately following the woman they loved, hoping against hope she would accept their devotion and marry them. But at the same time, her body was incredibly aroused by the men’s busy fingers, teasing and touching, tracing patterns on her skin, gradually, slowly—so very slowly—making their way up her legs toward her core.
    She opened her legs wide, letting the knees fall onto the burgundy blanket, desperate for their fingers to reach the place she needed them most. When the lady in the song finally accepted the two traveling heroes and the story heroes held their lady in their arms, a tear trickled from Shiloah’s eye in relief. Now all she needed was her own two heroes to make her come, to claim her as theirs.
    But their hands stopped on her upper thighs, resting on the sensitive, tender skin between her inner thighs and her groin. Urgently she thrust her hips up, indicating her need to Stan and Goa. She could feel the dampness on the inside of her thighs, feel how wet her pussy had become, and knew they had to have noticed the cream glistening on her nether lips.
    “According to our traditions, we have abducted you to be our bride, Shiloah,” began Goa.
    Stan continued. “To make you ours forever, we will fuck you in the cunt, the ass, and the mouth. Only when we have completed these three can we take you to the monk and be married.”
    “The fucking we will do tonight. The wedding will be tomorrow. We’ve already asked Father Yeshe’s permission for the marriage to be scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
    “Only one thing remains before we begin.”
    Together they said, “Give us permission to enter your body, Shiloah. Say we can come in. Say yes.”
    “Yes. Fuck me. Take me. It’s what I want more than anything.”
    The words were hardly out of her mouth before Goa was untying her wrists and Stan was pulling a tiny bottle of oil