Trinity of Light

by Renea Mason

  Cracking my lids once more, I focused on the soft breaths escaping Overton’s welcoming lips. With our gazes locked, my own ragged breathing announced my anticipation.

  I was the hunter. He was the prey. My master stood watch, analyzing, judging, so he too could savor the taste of my victory. How intoxicating the blending of submission and control could be. So powerful. Liberating.

  Cyril knelt beside the bed at eye level with my performance. His unnerving stare made me pause. I knew why, but I needed to hear him say it—like an opening curtain or the shot from a starter’s pistol, his words would be my signal.

  Without disappointing, he granted me freedom. “Go on, Light.” He reached out with one finger and caressed my bottom lip. “Show me. Show me what you want to do with your mouth.”

  I blazed a line of soft kisses down the center of Overton’s chest.

  His cock gave subtle twitches of encouragement against my swaying breasts as I inched my way down his body, one kiss at a time, never breaking eye contact.

  With my destination at hand, my mouth lingered out of reach, so close my breath caressed the tiny bead of wetness seeping from the tip of his straining cock.

  A wicked grin pulled at the corner of my lips as his hips raised, eager to bridge the gap between us. “Not yet.” I licked my lips.

  “Bloody hell, woman.” He closed his eyes and arched his back, pulling on the restraints, as I blew soft puffs of air against the underside of his shaft.

  Even though I aimed to keep my attention on Overton, the sight of Cyril fisting his cock caused my mouth to water. Before I took my first teasing lick, Cyril palmed the back of my head and pressed my lips against Overton’s cock. “Open up. Take him in. He might not be able to touch you, but I can.”

  I opened my mouth, allowing Overton’s cock to slide against my tongue.

  Cyril stood but kept one hand on my head and the other wrapped around his own shaft, distracting me with each stroke. His fist twisted in my hair, forcing my rhythm up and down Overton’s length. There was something erotic in knowing Cyril was fucking Overton with my mouth.

  Overton’s moans echoed in my ears, between the sucking sounds made each time he penetrated my mouth.

  Cyril’s movement drove me faster and Overton deeper.

  I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. Inhaling through my nose, I relaxed my throat, accommodating more of him.

  With one quick jerk, Cyril yanked my head back, releasing Overton from my lips. He stared deep into my eyes. “Now, it’s my turn. I’ll let you decide how best to please me.”

  My head whirled from the rapid change of pace, the all-consuming need that ached between my legs and my desire to please them both. I caught my breath, placed my hands on Cyril’s shoulders for balance, and scooted until my core hovered above Overton’s cock. In slow torturous motion, I sank down Overton’s length. His expression reflected the blissful agony I hoped to cause.

  Once seated, I released Cyril’s shoulder and leaned forward, bracing myself on one palm. Inches away from his cock, I gazed up into Cyril’s eyes. “Is this acceptable?”

  “Almost.” He nudged my lips with the head of his cock, glossing them with his essence.

  It was going to be a long night. He would let me tease Overton, but dominant or not, Cyril was fair game. With a featherlight stroke of my tongue, I grazed the underside of his shaft, loving the feel of him jerking against my mouth. I placed a soft lingering kiss on the head while lifting and lowering my hips along Overton’s length.

  They both moaned.

  Cyril didn’t touch me, but my skin tingled from his intense gaze.

  I collected the next drop he gave me, glancing up so he’d see the glossy liquid coat my lips.

  “Oh, Light, you are playing a dangerous game.”

  I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth and wrapped my hand around the base. A couple of quick strokes, and I released him. “The question isn’t how dangerous the game is, the question is… am I winning?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I engulfed him again. His legs grew rigid as I worked him with fervor, pumping my fist, gliding it along his shaft.

  Overton writhed beneath me while my pussy glided up and down his length. He felt so good. So right. This was us—who we were.

  Cyril grasped my head in both of his hands, coaxing me to look at him. With his hips flexing and relaxing, he thrust his cock in and out of my mouth. “Oh…you’ll most certainly win, Light. I’ll make sure of it and with your victory come the spoils. Are you ready for me?”

  I couldn’t answer, but was ready, remembering my addiction to his taste. His gift. My reward. All in equal measure. The question was rhetorical since I knew he didn’t need or want my acquiescence.

  A few more pumps and he growled.

  I freed him from my mouth, allowing his release to splash on my face and lips. Gliding my fist from base to tip, I milked him of every drop. I dipped my head to collect the droplets of cum on my tongue before they fell to the floor. Cyril was something to be savored, enjoyed, and not wasted.

  His eyes never left me, focusing on my mouth as I busied myself laving his shaft. “Yes, Light, take it all.”

  With my cleanup complete, his hand cupped my chin, raising my gaze to meet his. He examined my lips, tilting my head from side to side. “Good girl. Now give Stanton what he deserves, and you’ll see what other surprises I have in store for you.”

  The wonderful thing about Cyril was that he could see all my fantasies. He knew when to take command, when to push me and when to relent. The glimpse inside my head he received when we made love was anything but convenient, but I knew he was giving me what I needed. It was time to heed his orders.

  Licking my lips and capturing the last remnants of Cyril’s essence, I sat up and rested my hands on Overton’s chest. From atop him, I could gaze into his eyes and measure every breath he took as I slid up and down his length. To be the source of his wonder was satisfying, powerful even, and I knew at that moment what I needed to do. I would have to tell him my secret. He deserved to know the possibilities. Tomorrow. Tonight would be the prelude.

  I steeled my connection to him, blocking everything else, including Cyril. It was just us, as it should be, without pretense, only genuineness, honesty. “Do you know why I wanted to tie your hands?”

  “No, love, tell me why,” he said between breathy grunts.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Cyril moved to take a position behind me.

  “Because I can focus on the way you look at me. Your touch overwhelms me, but now there’s only this one point our bodies come together and the look in your eyes. I used to think play like this was about power when really it’s about focus.” I increased my pace, driving him to the edge.

  “Oh, Linden.” The muscles of his chest flexed as he thrust up into me.

  I smiled and arched my back, savoring the feel of us. It was but another rise and fall of my hips when his legs stiffened beneath me. His hands pulled at his restraints. I felt his warmth invade me on a moan.

  “Very good,” Cyril whispered against my neck.

  I leaned forward, unsheathing Overton and reached for the belt binding his wrists. Before I could finish pulling the final loop free, Cyril entered me from behind, causing a gasp to escape my lips.

  “Light, you didn’t think the festivities were over, did you?” With one hard pump, he bent over me, his lips playing along that sensitive place between my neck and shoulder. The feel of Overton’s release coating my thighs somehow added to the excitement.

  I would have killed him if he’d stopped. He knew what he did to me. With each plunge of his cock, I bit my lip, needing him. Wanting more.

  “Kiss Stanton while I fuck you.” He moaned. “I don’t know what it is, but I walked down the hall and heard his thoughts, and I had to have you. You smell extra delightful.”

  I let out a groan and tossed my head back as he sank his teeth into my neck.

  Overton st
retched up, closing his lips around my nipple.

  The blended sensations were all too much. I came, shuddering from the quakes wracking my body, and sighed from the euphoric surge coursing through me.

  Cyril released his bite sooner than usual. “You taste unbelievable, Light, but in your condition, I dare not take too much. But God…fuck, so good.” He continued to pound into me even as my body tightened around him.

  Stanton reached up and stroked my face. “What condition, love? Are you all right?”

  His words barely registered when I felt the fierce thrusts that preceded Cyril’s climax. He pulsed inside, releasing into my depths.

  The look of concern on Overton’s face was the only thing to quiet my rage. I knew Cyril didn’t mean to slip, but he was practically a fucking god. He should be beyond these kinds of mistakes.

  “Remember when I said I had a lot to tell you?”

  Cyril braced himself with a hand on my shoulder. His heavy breath caressed my ear.

  Overton cupped my face. “What is it?”

  Cyril licked my neck. “Go on. Tell him,” he said, an unusual teasing tone in his voice. He added more weight, making it hard for me to balance myself against the bed and not crush Overton. He continued to rock his cock in and out of me, making the mixture of their releases run down my thighs.

  I froze. “Cyril? Why are you doing this?” I tried to push him off me, but my efforts were fruitless.

  “Oh…come on, Light… you’ll make his century.” He peppered kisses along the ridge of my shoulder blade.

  Anger bubbled in my veins. I attempted to shove Cyril again. “Tell him what, Cyril? What do you want me to tell him when we have no answers?”

  He finally withdrew and collapsed onto his side, his head landing beside Overton’s. He stared up at me and giggled. “Oh, yes, we do.”

  Giggle? Cyril didn’t fucking giggle. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He rolled onto his side and burst into hysterical laughter.

  Overton’s hand fell from my cheek, his face scrunching with bewilderment as he turned to assess Cyril gasping for air between fits of laughter.

  “Cyril? What is going on?” I slapped him on the thigh, demanding his attention.

  He heaved slow breaths in and out of his lungs to calm his laughter. I crossed my arms, my patience with his display growing thin.

  “Light, I think…” A deep inhale of breath erupted as a snort. “I think…” A loud, unapologetic cackle. “I think… I’m drunk.”

  “Did you come up here because you’d been drinking?” I crossed my arms tighter over my chest.

  Overton sat up, his brow furrowed. “Love, he can’t get drunk. In all my years, I’ve never seen him like this. Cyril?”

  Cyril rose to his knees and pressed his mouth against mine in a clumsy kiss. Not even a hint of alcohol lingered. “It’s you.” He licked my lip. “Your blood. I think it’s because you’re pregnant.”

  Overton gasped. “What? You’re what?”

  Cyril pulled away from me and pinned Overton’s face between his hands. “Don’t worry yourself, my old friend. See…I wondered which of us was the father. Of course, me being made of energy made it nearly impossible, but with enough will…” He looked up at the ceiling as his words trailed off. After a moment of contemplation, he focused back on Overton. “Well, since her blood didn’t do this to me in the woods, I’m going to have to say our little pit stop was the point of conception. Since I was the one calling all the shots, this is my doing.” He pressed a hard kiss to Overton’s cheek, his lips smacking as they parted from Overton’s skin. “You are welcome, my friend. Now, it’s best I leave and let the happy couple plan their future.” Pain laced his every word. He might be intoxicated, but it was plain to see the disappointment under the bluster. He rolled to the side of the bed, stumbled, and grasped the bed frame to steady himself.

  “Cyril…please.” I extended my hand to him.

  “No. No. You two have much to talk about, and I… well… I’m going to go sleep this off.”

  “You don’t sleep.”

  He gathered his clothes from the floor and paused. “Yeah… that’s right. Rhys, he’ll know what to do. I’ll go see him.” He stumbled through the door, slamming it closed behind him.

  What an absolute clusterfuck.

  Overton and I stared at each other for a solid minute before he asked, “You’re really pregnant?”

  I shrugged. “That’s the rumor.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Surprise

  When I returned from my much-needed trip to the bathroom, Overton pulled back the covers and urged me to lay beside him, patting the snow-white sheets. “When were you planning to tell me? Or wasn’t I supposed to know?” The look I had become addicted to wasn’t anywhere to be found. His gaze was cold and distant.

  I pulled the covers up to my chin. “As soon as I processed everything. I only found out today. I didn’t want to get your hopes up if it wasn’t yours.”

  “It? It’s a baby, Linden. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me right away.”

  “I wanted to, but if it wasn’t…”

  “Wasn’t mine? That would mean the child was Cyril’s. How is there a downside? Do you think I’m foolish enough to think you and Cyril don’t copulate? I know how these things work. I’m a doctor after all.”

  His condescending tone, something I usually only heard from Cyril, irritated me. I clutched the blanket in my fists. “No, Dr. Stanton, I don’t think your knowledge of biology is lacking, but I do wonder if they covered supernatural breeding in your medical texts. It could have cleared quite a few things up. Besides…” I slapped him gently on the arm. “Both you and Cyril assured me that neither of you was capable of fathering…” I paused.

  “Fathering what, Linden? A child? Our child? Is it such a deplorable thought you can’t even form the word?”

  “No. Just…” I brushed my fingers through my hair. “Fuck, I can’t be someone’s mother. I don’t even know what I am. How on earth can I raise a…” I swallowed hard. “A child?”

  “It’s not your burden alone. You have plenty of help.”

  “Overton, less than seventy-two hours ago we were attacked by a shapeshifter. That supernatural badass, with a serious piercing fetish, locked us in a cage together. Those events aren’t the making of a stable childhood. Not to mention I fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I can’t get you pregnant.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm.

  His eyes narrowed. “I won’t comment on how unfair that accusation is. You know better. All the combined centuries Rhys, Sinclair, Dominic, Thor, and I spent screwing our way from continent to continent, not one of us has fathered a child. You, love, are the one to blame. There is something about you that’s different. And if you want me to sit here and lament this turn of events, you will be sorely disappointed.”

  “I knew you’d be happy.”

  “Happy doesn’t describe it. But I’m not happy you’re distressed.” He cupped my cheek. “I wish you could see what a miracle this is and know you are anything but alone.”

  I looked away from him. “I’m concerned about Cyril.”

  “Why? I’m sure, given a little time, he’ll feel the same as I do.”

  “Probably, but he doesn’t see the wonder in it. I think he hoped somehow, there was a possibility he was responsible. But now feels convinced otherwise now. I should go check on him.” I shoved aside the covers and sat up.

  He grasped my bicep. “Return to me?”

  “Of course.” I gave him a weak smile, but more from my concern for Cyril than my apprehension of leaving him. Cyril’s drunken behavior was seriously disconcerting.

  I tugged on my robe and headed for the door.

  * * *

  I turned the corner past the kitchen and ran face first into Rhys’s chest.

  “Sweetness.” He clutched my upper arms, keeping me from tumbl
ing backward. “Where are you heading?” His Spanish accent was smooth as fine milk chocolate.

  “To see Cyril.”

  “Ahh… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. He’s—”

  “Drunk?” I finished for him.

  “Yeah. It’s kind of funny. I didn’t even think he could get drunk.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know, at any other time I would have found the entire situation hilarious, but…”

  “Sweet cheeks, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, fuck it. You’ll find out anyway. It’s not like I can hide it.” I took a deep breath and shrugged out of his grasp. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Whoa… What?” He scrunched his features, trying to process the information.

  “You know… knocked up, with child, preggers, bun in the oven. Pregnant.”

  He raked his hand through his lush, dark hair. “Damn… no wonder Cyril got smashed. Can’t blame the dude.” He let out a long exhale.

  “I was literally what made him drunk, not my news.”

  “Wait… you can do that? How? And more importantly, why the hell have you been keeping that to yourself? Lay it on me.” He stretched his arms out wide and puckered his lips. “After hearing your news…Cyril might need a drinking buddy.”

  I slapped his arm. “I can’t do it like that.”

  “How then?”

  “He bit me.”

  He leaned toward me and sniffed the air. “Oh, sweet cakes, you have been a naughty, naughty girl. Both of them? Cyril and Overton? What’s a guy gotta do to get an invite to the party?”

  I folded my arms. “That’s none of your business.”

  “You’re right.” The air hissed through his teeth. “I’m a little saddened that you and I haven’t had a go at it. One night with me down at the pool hall, and you’d never be able to think of human men.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “But sweetness, when did you have time? Cyril’s been banging you like a storm door in a hurricane ever since he got back, and I thought you and Overton were on the outs.”