Temptation's Hold [Temptation, Wyoming 4] Read online

  Temptation, Wyoming 4

  Temptation’s Hold

  Brad, Dawson, and Cory Taylor are brothers and shape-shifters. They’ve known for years that Chanel Carmichael, “the town bitch,” is their mate. On the surface it appears she wants nothing to do with them, but they discover that Chanel has secrets that hold the answers to her fear of BDSM and shape-shifters.

  Chanel Carmichael has done all she could to try to drive the three persistent cowboys away, but they won’t take no for an answer, and temptation proves impossible to resist. She gives in to them, vowing it will only be for one night, but the brothers want her for keeps.

  When she ends up pregnant with their baby, Lucius, a sadistic Dom, returns from Chanel’s past. The werewolf-vampire claims her before the cowboys get the chance to. How does one erase something the fates have set in stone?

  Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.

  Genre: BDSM, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal

  Length: 124,877 words

  TEMPTATION’S HOLD

  Temptation, Wyoming 4

  Zoey Marcel

  MENAGE AND MORE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage and More

  TEMPTATION’S HOLD

  Copyright © 2012 by Zoey Marcel

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-396-6

  First E-book Publication: October 2012

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  TEMPTATION’S HOLD

  Temptation, Wyoming 4

  ZOEY MARCEL

  Copyright © 2012

  Prologue

  Fifteen years ago – San Francisco, California

  Chanel Carmichael twisted against the manacles securing her wrists over her head, but they didn’t give. She wasn’t going anywhere. She could only stand there naked and watch in horror as her Master flipped through the pictures of her ex that he’d caught her looking at. He wore a stern look of displeasure on his handsome, round face. His pale blue eyes were angry and jealous.

  “You two looked very happy together. He was the one you gave your virginity to?”

  “Yes, Master,” she replied quietly, wishing he would put the pictures away and just let this go.

  “And you loved him?”

  “No, Master. It was a high school crush. Nothing more.” She hated herself for lying to him. She wasn’t sure which hurt more, the bloody slashes he’d left on her back when he whipped her, the reproving glance he gave her, or the way he flipped the switch so the gas fireplace came to life while he still held the pictures in his hand.

  He set them aside and she cringed when he picked up her diary. “I read through this earlier. You said some affectionate things to that supposed infatuation of yours back in high school. Shall I refresh your memory?”

  “No, Master.” She hung her head in shame as he read aloud from her diary.

  “‘After we lost our virginity to each other, I wept. He asked me why I was crying and I told him it was because what we just did together was so beautiful and magical I felt my heart breaking with joy inside of me. I told him I loved him so much it hurts and he said the same thing to me. I know this is the real thing. We’re going to get married someday. He’s the one. I found him.’”

  Her eyes closed in devastation. She remembered her jubilee while writing those words and the silent ache in her chest suggested that they still rang true even now.

  “Or how about this one.” Her Master skipped a bunch of pages until he read aloud an entry that broke her heart now as much as the day she’d written it.

  “It has tear stains on the page like you were crying uncontrollably when you wrote it. ‘Dear Diary, today I broke up with my boyfriend. I’m heartbroken. I know how devastated he is, but I had to leave. I told him it was because I wanted to focus on my career and didn’t want him to hold me back and vice versa, but that’s not the real reason. I can’t even bear to write it. I only know I will never get through this. I will never get over him or ever stop loving him.’”

  Chanel swallowed down the lump in her throat as the pain of that day resurfaced. She waited for her Master’s reprimand.

  “Would you care to modify your answer, slave?”

  “I loved him, Master, but it doesn’t change anything between us. I’ve done things with you that I never did with anyone else. I never went as far with him as I have with you.”

  “He was the only one you slept with before me?”

  “Yes, Master.” She felt relieved to be truthful with him again. Her eyes widened with horror when he stepped toward the fireplace with the diary. “Master, I beg you not to—”

  “Silence!” he hissed. “You lied to me and betrayed me mentally by looking back longingly into the past. For it you must be punished.”

  She winced with dread at his words and the feel of a tiny drop rolling down her back. It had to be blood or sweat. “But you already punished me.”

  “I punished your body. Now I’m going to punish your heart.” He tossed the diary into the flames.

  Her
heart screamed inside of her, but she knew to do so aloud would only elicit his wrath.

  “You will learn to forget him.” He held up a picture of her ex. “Who is this boy?”

  Something moved through her soul when she saw the picture of her and her first boyfriend. “Dawson Taylor, Master.”

  He gave her a disapproving glare and tossed the photo into the fire. She jerked against the chains, unable to stop the gathering tears in her eyes.

  He picked up another picture, this one of just Dawson seated on the porch in his good jeans, Vans, and a short-sleeved, checkered shirt that was unbuttoned to reveal a white T-shirt beneath. She loved that picture of him.

  “Who is this boy?” her Master repeated.

  Dear god, why did he keep asking her when he already knew the answer? “Dawson Taylor, Master.”

  She choked on a lamenting sob when he flicked the picture into the hungry fire. “Master, please stop! I’m begging you.”

  “You’re not listening, slave,” he snarled as he held up a picture of her and Dawson this time. “Who is this boy?”

  It finally hit her what he wanted her to say. “I don’t remember, Master.”

  He lowered the picture to his side. “Tell me what he means to you.”

  “Nothing, Master.”

  He smiled at last and set the picture on the table before approaching her. He appeared turned on by her tears. “Yes, cry for me, Chanel. Feel how hard you’ve made your Master.”

  She mewled with misery when his fingers touched the cuts on her back as he pulled her into him. The feel of his bulging jeans against her tummy made her groan with anticipation. Her arms trembled when he unshackled her and if he hadn’t caught her she would have fallen to the floor given how badly her knees were shaking.

  He walked her over to the table. “Show me how much I mean to you. Prove yourself worthy of me.”

  Her spirit sank when she realized he wanted her to burn the picture. If she didn’t, he would. Chanel picked it up, staring at it longingly the whole time she made her way slowly to the fireplace. She couldn’t do it, but she didn’t want to disappoint or hurt her Master, either.

  “Who’s the father of your baby, Chanel?” he asked firmly from several feet behind her.

  She wiped her eyes and reluctantly placed the beloved photo onto the coals. A spark touched the corner and the picture burst into flames, destroying every evidence that they had ever been together and moved as one. Only the memories in her mind and heart offered any contradiction to this.

  She stood and faced her Master. “You are, Master.”

  He smiled with satisfaction and tossed a pillow onto the floor. “Lie down with your face on this pillow and your ass in the air. I’m going to humble your wayward soul into submission.”

  “Thank you, Master.” Chanel kept her head down to show him deference as she did what he asked. The pillow felt soothing against the wet tear streaks on her face, though her bare ass sticking up in the air was a little embarrassing. She gasped lightly when she felt him slowly remove the butt plug from her anus.

  “You knew this was coming, slave. You didn’t think I gave you an enema, lubed and prepared you with an anal plug for nothing, did you?”

  “No, Master.”

  “I’m going to take away your anal virginity. What do you have to say to that?”

  “It’s your right, Master. I want you to take me there.”

  Chanel quivered with nervousness and excitement when he slipped the egg-shaped bullet into her cunt and turned it on with the remote so it hummed against her vaginal walls.

  “You don’t deserve to come after the way you betrayed me, yet I’m allowing you to orgasm. What does that make me, Chanel?”

  She whimpered at the sweet vibrations in her pussy and the wet, teasing sting of pain when he dragged his tongue over the cuts on her back, tasting her blood. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sight and flavor of her blood.

  “You’re merciful, Master. I don’t deserve you.”

  “No, you don’t, but I’m perfect for you in every way.”

  The sound of him undoing his jeans from behind her excited her. She tried not to tense when he split her butt cheeks and aligned his cock with her puckered opening.

  “Yes, Master. You are perfect for me.”

  The pain of his steady entry made her anus burn and ache, but the overwhelming discomfort soon passed to make way for an awkward, foreign invasion that left her feeling helpless and conquered.

  “This is the ultimate act of submission, Chanel. You’re taking me in the most private place on your body. Do you feel me overpowering you and changing you from the inside out?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, forgetting to use his title amidst the growing pressure in her cunt and the slow ravishment in her back door. The combination intrigued and aroused her.

  His grunts and heady sounds while he pistoned into her were tantalizing. “You’ve never had it like this before, have you?”

  “Oh god, no. I feel so, so—”

  “Dirty. Conquered. Sinful,” he finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  “You should. You’re all of those things, Chanel. You are a conquered woman feeling a man’s bare cock pummeling your ass and welcoming his cum into your asshole like a dirty, sinful whore.”

  She moaned, trying to fight the orgasm creeping up on her.

  “Remember you don’t come until I tell you to.” He turned the speed up on the vibrator.

  She wailed at the accelerated buzzing in her vagina. “Oh god, Lucius!”

  He lashed at her cuts with his reprimanding tongue, making her howl in pain. “That’s Master Lucius to you, bitch.”

  He grabbed her by the hair and stopped thrusting to whisper into her ear. “How many Masters have you had before me?”

  “None, Master.”

  “And how many Masters will you have after me?”

  “None, Master Lucius.” She could feel herself slipping and losing control.

  “Never forget you said that, because I sure as hell won’t and you will regret it if you ever do. Now come for me, princess. Come for the one you serve.”

  Chapter One:

  Past Yearnings

  Fifteen years later – Temptation, Wyoming

  Chanel Carmichael discreetly peeked down at her cell phone, heart catching in her throat. The text was from Dawson Taylor. She glanced around the quiet library, pleased no one needed her assistance at the moment.

  How’s your day going so far?

  She smiled and texted a reply. Okay so far. How about you?

  She hoped her joy over hearing from him wasn’t scattered across her face. She needed to be serious, professional, and composed, despite the fact that she was all aglow inside.

  Not bad. I’m working on a ’67 Chevelle. She’s a real beauty, all shiny and purple.

  He owned the mechanic shop in town and still seemed to harbor that same passion for vehicles that he had back in high school. Chanel didn’t know the first thing about cars, only enough to get her from one place to the next successfully, but Dawson was an expert. He could name any car, the model and year of it simply by seeing it. Classic cars were his weakness, though. He had fixed plenty up for some of the old timers in the area who collected them, and he dreamed of owning one himself someday.

  She texted a reply, heart throbbing over a sweet, tender memory. Your dad used to own one of those.

  Her mind wandered back in time to a warm summer night in the front seat of a ’67 Chevelle. She let out a faint sigh of fondness and regret. The glory days. The car had been an antique then, back in the nineties, but Dawson’s dad had a thing for old cars and passed it onto his son. Dawson had taken excellent care of the car while he owned it.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she read his reply. I know. I remember what we did in it, too.

  Tiny, excited butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  Those were sweet times.

  Was it wise to bring up the past and toy with his p
ossibly still smitten heart? They were only reminiscing about the good old days. He probably didn’t still have feelings for her, but sometimes when he looked at her she wondered if he did.

  They were. The best of my life.

  Tears pricked at her eyes like knives, just enough to make her chest hurt, but not enough to spill any moisture.

  Mine, too.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t take that wrong, but really, how the hell was he supposed to take it? They couldn’t ever go back there again as much as they might want to.

  Sally Moore is having a Christmas party tomorrow night. Would you like to go with me?

  Her spirit swelled with exuberance over his text, despite the gentle cautioning in her brain.

  That sounds great.

  Her mind swore at her to raise certain stipulations to protect herself, but the thought of being with him again, even if only for one night at a Christmas party, was enough to make her let down her guard.

  Really? That’s awesome. We’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night if that’s all right?

  Chanel gaped at his text, feeling the subtle return of the familiar old fear and desire that plagued her constantly whenever the three Taylor brothers were around or even mentioned in casual conversation.

  What do you mean by “we”?

  Brad, Cory, and I’ll pick you up.

  I agreed to go to the party with you, not them.

  She nervously waited for his response.

  “Why so scandalized, baby doll?”

  She gasped, snapping her phone shut, and found herself looking up at Dawson’s older brother, Brad. The sight of him nearly made her melt into brainless putty. Fortunately, she had made a habit of learning to hide her attraction to him and attempt to keep her wits about her whenever he and his two younger brothers were near.