Chapter One
As far as Marrick Powell was concerned, there was only one thing better than one naked man being pressed intimately against his bare skin, and that was two naked men completely surrounding him with a solid wall of heat, strength and nudity.
Lions… The very thought of getting up close and personal with a shifter had kept Marrick hard ever since the guys at the pub had first put him, bound and blindfolded, into the back of a car.
But the reality of it was so much better than any of the possibilities his imagination had cooked up—especially since there seemed to be a fantastic buy-one-get-one-free offer on werelions that night.
Rough gravel bit into Marrick’s feet as he wriggled between the two lions, but that wasn’t important.
His squirming informed him that the man behind him was just as hard as he was.
Sore feet couldn’t compete with that sort of knowledge.
Arching his back, Marrick explored the guy’s body as best he could while his hands were still bound behind his back.
The man…the lion…the…whatever the hell he should be called, was all gloriously hard muscle. Marrick pushed his arse back in encouragement as the tip of the guy’s cock nudged against the cleft between his buttocks.
Someone purred in Marrick’s ear. Rough palms caressed their way down his arms. Another set of equally demanding hands slid up Marrick’s chest. Both men explored his body as if it was their right—as if he’d given them that right when he agreed to be their “human sacrifice” for the night.
Marrick grinned blindly into the night air as an extra shot of adrenaline raced through him.
He redoubled his efforts to explore the other guys’ bodies in return.
Both a bit taller than him, great builds, equally impressive cocks—there were some very good things Marrick was soon certain of. But there was nothing he could find to distinguish between them. They could have been identical twins for all Marrick was able to tell them apart while blindfolded.
They moved around him, caressing and assessing him, changing places with each other until he had no idea which man had originally been where.
A tiny part of Marrick cared which man was which. But most of him really didn’t give a toss. It wasn’t as if he was ever going to see their faces, as if he’d ever meet them again. The pure anonymity of it all made his heart race faster, his body arch into their touches even more eagerly.
Bungee jumping had been a rush. White water rafting better than he’d ever imagined it could be.
But, in that moment, Marrick knew that being thrown to the lions was easily going to be the best thing he’d ever tick off the very extensive list of experiences he was determined to squeeze into his life.
Bloody hell—even the whips wielded by the local doms couldn’t compete with the endorphins just being close to the lions sent swirling through him.
One of lions purred his approval against Marrick’s neck as Marrick finally managed to force his restrained hands into a position where he could wrap his fist around the guy’s cock.
The lion’s dick felt just like a human’s.
The only difference he had actually found in either lion’s physique compared to all the human guys he’d screwed in the past was that both of their bodies felt far hotter than any man Marrick had ever been close to.
The cool breeze dancing around them didn’t seem to worry either shifter, and, caught snugly between them, Marrick found himself content to let the party start wherever the hell they wanted it to.
Gravel marks on his knees probably wouldn’t be that much more painful than carpet burns, and if the sharp little stones broke the skin, well, Marrick gave a mental shrug—he’d probably enjoy admiring the scars for quite a while.
“Inside—all of you!”
The voice hadn’t come from either of his Marrick’s new friends. He moaned his disapproval as both men slipped away from him, leaving him with no contact beyond their hands gripping his arms as they led him forward.
He stumbled along between them into a building.
First came the mild warmth of one room, then into the heat of another.
The softness of a rug under his feet tempered Marrick’s silent curses a little.
He’d had gravel rash a time or two when his faith in his mountain biking ability hadn’t been matched by his actual talent—it hadn’t been a particularly erotic sort of pain.
A rug would probably be more fun, after all.
Besides, they had the whole evening. No point staying outside the whole time and catching a chill…
The hands on Marrick’s arms remained in place even after the three of them came to a halt. It felt like they were lined up facing someone else now.
He had the distinct impression he was being inspected, but it was nothing like feeling a voyeur’s gaze traverse his skin—he’d felt that often enough in the clubs.
This gaze felt more like a betting man judging the worth of a boxer about to step into the ring.
It was impersonal, practical, and had a strange way of making Marrick hope the person behind it would declare him up to scratch for the bout.
“I take it there’s no need to ask if you two are interested in him.” The voice was deep and rich, and whoever it belonged to wasn’t making any attempt to hide his amusement. Marrick grinned, guessing the two lions were still just as hard as he was.
“Yes,” someone said to his left. The man on his right said nothing. Marrick could only hope that was because the guy had offered up a silent nod instead.
“He’ll probably enjoy himself far more if you leave his arms in working order.” A touch of rebuke crept into the voice, and the hands griping his arms instantly eased their hold on him.
Behind the blindfold, Marrick frowned. The tighter grip had felt pretty bloody good from his position. There had been no need for them to ease off.
“Go ahead.”
One of the lion’s grip on Marrick altered again. Marrick sensed the lion standing in front of him. Barely a fraction of a moment later, Marrick felt the second shifter move to stand behind him.
“Manners, Luther.” That was the deep, serious voice again.
The lion in front of Marrick pulled back a little, seeming to hesitate. “If you say ‘spear’, we have to let you go.” The words were hushed—little more than a rough purr.
The still un-named lion behind Marrick lined his body up against him, pressing a hard cock against his arse.
“But, if you don’t say it, we can do whatever we want with you for the rest of the night.
” His voice was harsher than the lion in front of Marrick, his tone dominant enough to send an expectant thrill down Marrick’s spine.
Perfect.
He waited impatiently for one of the lions to get the scene started in earnest. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting with him. A full minute passed.
“They won’t do anything until you give them your answer.” That was the deeper voice again.
Marrick blinked in the darkness behind the blindfold as he finally realised they weren’t waiting with him, but for him. “Yes. I understand. Safe word’s spear. Got it.”
Marrick had been wrong—the words Luther said before hadn’t been a purr.
But the noise Luther made as he pressed his lips against Marrick very definitely was a purr.
The vibrations shot down Marrick’s spine and went straight to his cock, making him moan as he parted his lips and invited Luther to deepen the kiss.
As the lion behind him pulled him closer, Marrick rocked his hips, rubbing his arse against one lion, his cock against the other, and any other bit of skin he could against any available portion of the lions’ bodies.
Tugging at the bindings around his wrists, Marrick tried to work out if he could squirm his way out of the cuffs.
The blindfold was fair enough. Anonymity—a few hours stolen away from the real world where a man could do whatever the hell he liked without ever having to face the other guy, or guys, in the morning.
Marrick was all on board for that. The blindfold was hot.
The cuffs were just bloody well annoying at this point.
Either the lions didn’t notice that he was trying to get rid of them, or they didn’t care. The lion in front of him, Luther, broke the kiss. A nudge against Marrick’s cheek turned his head, and his mouth was captured again.
A rough tongue thrust against his lips demanding to taste him. Marrick slid his tongue against the lion’s, eagerly sparring with him as he tried to explore the lion’s mouth in return.
The lion tried to catch hold of Marrick’s hair as they fought each other for control of the kiss, but the lion’s grip provided scant advantage. Marrick’s hair was too short for real leverage, and anyway, he’d always kind of liked it when a guy tugged at his hair.
Marrick was no scared little novice. He was almost as good at leading a kiss as the lion was—almost. Pleasure spiked in Marrick as the lion finally wrangled control from him and refused to give any scrap of it back.
As one kiss ended and the other lion took his turn possessing Marrick’s mouth, someone wrapped his fingers around Marrick’s cock.
His grip was strong, his strokes rapid, but at the same time, Marrick could tell the guy was holding back, gentling his touch when Marrick could easily have enjoyed him being rougher.
Sod that. There was no way he was going to stand for being treated like some fragile little virgin.
That was not what he’d signed up for. He’d proven he could hold his own in the best leather clubs in the city, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t prove he could do the same in a bloody lions’ den, too.
Shrugging his shoulders, shaking off the lion standing behind him, Marrick leaned up and blindly fought for command of the kiss.