The Three Thieves and The Dom
(The Witches' Mischief, 3)
Penelope, Isidora, and Grace are on the run. They’ve committed a crime and left behind the man they love. Presumably safe, they are stunned when he turns up ready to claim them back and discover the truth.
But, what is the truth? And will Conall’s special kind of coaxing make them speak?
Be Warned: menage sex (MFFF), f/f sex, BDSM, sex toys, spanking, forced seduction
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Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.
Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.
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He counted doors, stopping at the third one. His brow furrowed and his heart raced. What would he say? What would she do? He couldn’t throw down the door, though that’s what he wished. Instead, he raised his hand and knocked. He held his breath, waiting.
Penelope. She had a sweet voice, almost girlish, innocent. She was anything but. He knocked again
“Who is it?”
Conall did not reply. He waited and knocked a third time. The door swung open.
Penelope reacted faster than he thought possible as she hurried to push the door closed, but he was quicker and stronger. Barging his shoulder against the door, he pushed back and swept inside.
Conall ignored her and closed the door, locking it behind him.
“Have you missed me, darling?”
“What do you want?”
“Why? My things.”
Conall cocked his head and looked at Penelope. Dark shadows danced beneath her eyes and she looked haggard, out of sorts. His heart constricted and he rolled his hands into fists to stop himself from either shaking her and extracting the truth, or throwing himself at her feet and begging her to take him back.
“We sold them.”
Conall crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. Penelope tightened her robe around her and glared at him.
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Do you realize you have committed a crime?”
“What grounds do you have for that?” Her voice was calm and smooth. To an outside observer she would look like a woman wrongly accused, but he knew better. When Penelope was nervous, she pressed her lips together, released them, and repeated. It was almost imperceptible unless you knew her well. Conall smirked and leaned against the door. She was frantic. With a calm he was far from possessing, he examined her. Penelope returned his stare. His heart skipped a beat and fire burned a path to his groin. Sweet, venomous Penelope. Her lips thinned and popped out between her teeth. She was anxious and yet she exuded power. She was in control. Always in control. Conall’s smirk grew. Penelope scowled. There was one place where she wasn’t in control. Conall ran a hand through his hair. Then again, she was. All she had to do was look at him and he’d fall over his feet to please her. He’d do anything for her.
“Perhaps, Lady Blackemoor, we can come to an agreement,” he said at length.
Her eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
Conall smiled. “You explain to me in detail why you’ve done all this,” he waved his arms in the air, “and I will consider forgiving you and not exposing you.”
Her eyebrows rose and the hint of a smile danced over her lips before she glowered.
“I believe you’re wasting your time, Lord Dougal. I do not care for your forgiveness, nor for exposure. The ton will be glad to hear of the downfall of the Blackemoor family, and I will be far away from the city by the time you make it back to denounce me.” Sharp dimples gave her an even more youthful appearance than her thirty years as she smiled at him. “I invite you to leave my chamber.”