by Mima
He lifted her into a sitting position and removed her bra with a practiced flick of his wrist. Then he ripped it in half. She bit her lip in regret, holding her chest. He pulled out the underwire, then removed the plastic caps at each end.
The curved, flat piece of metal looked like a toothpick in his hands, but he nodded approvingly. “Good enough. Let’s try fellatio first, shall we?”
She blinked at him. Her one breast throbbed, thoroughly awoken, while the other howled a fit at being ignored. Her mind processed the word “fellatio” slowly. Ivor turned his head and watched Ryder.
Audibly swallowing, Charlotte stared, too. Ryder was only a yard away, straining toward them with both arms, face purple from his efforts.
“Come, Charlotte.” Ivor stood up, a nude primal giant. He gestured at his hips. “Take me.” He tipped his head. “For him.”
Is this really happening? Charlotte rolled onto her knees, considering the long, thick erection looming over her head. “You’re too tall,” she whispered.
“Ah. Just so.” He knelt.
She stared at the round head of him, wondering if it would fit in her mouth. The slit at his top reminded her of a cherry on a sundae.
His hand cupped the back of her head. She felt her lungs working hard. His fingers closed in her hair, pulling on her scalp. Her gaze flew to his, but he was staring at his own erection. His arm flexed and he began to push her down. She resisted out of sheer shock, watching that living column come closer and closer. Finally, her face was directly over him.
“Suck my cock, woman.” He was a conqueror. “Open your lips and take me in.”
She did. His warmth was welcome, the taste matching the clean scent of him, exotically foreign like his accent. Ryder had smelled faintly of leather and chlorine, but his male scent had been ravishing. Ivor had a faint musk, and a whiff of very expensive cologne, spicy and strong.
Saliva burst into her mouth. His skin was soft, the expanse of the head smooth. He filled her whole mouth, the rim a match to the edge of her teeth. He flexed his hips. She choked, shocked.
His hand tightened in her hair again. “Don’t pull away. Just keep your throat open and let me fuck your mouth.” His casual, low words shocked her.
Bent over at the waist, her breasts brushing her knees, she sucked in a breath, tried to open her jaw even more, and closed her eyes against the incredible eroticism of a total stranger moving his cock in her mouth. He didn’t slam or force, just slid with serpentine grace back and forth. Her lips grew wet but she couldn’t swallow the extra moisture, and he was soon coated. Her tongue joined in, rubbing and flicking as it could.
He grunted in approval. The head of him would just touch the back of her throat before floating away. When she stopped thinking about it, he did it again, and this time he sank a bit deeper. She rearranged herself on her knees, making an adjustment to the angle of her throat. He moved a bit faster, still gentle, the tempo now one of interest instead of relaxation. Her cheeks ached, and her teeth caught the edges of him, grinding on one of his outward slides.
Struggling to open her jaw wider, she felt his fingers swirl in her hair. “It’s fine. Use your teeth if you need to. He’s watching us. He’s got his own cockstand and isn’t pulling on the chain. I’m going to go faster now. Make my blood sing, moon fairy. God, you American women are good at this. No sullen power plays, just fantastic submission.”
His voice slurred to a stop while his hips increased their pace again. He pumped his cock in and out of her throat, her lips humming at the race of wet skin. Her hands were on his thighs, fingers digging into muscle with no give.
“Shall I warn you when I come?” His words were choked, breathless.
She moaned. He growled. Ryder hissed. Ivor’s tempo was like lightning, churning like a racer in her mouth. She breathed hard through her nose.
“Now, then. I’ll come . . .” Both hands landed hard on her head, pulling her forward, stretching her neck. His cock jammed deep in her throat, his body shaking, raw gasps echoing from him again and again. “Drink me! Swallow!”
She choked, struggled, but his strength was so much more. Her mouth flooded with a bitter wash of thick herbal cream. She swallowed. He shoved deeper, mashing her nose into his belly, and she softened, sucking and swallowing, tongue alive with flavor. Pride and power thundered in her pulse.
When he shrank, his hands went to her shoulders and pulled her away. She worked her sore jaw, licking her lips and wiping at her chin. Her panties were soaked. That’s when she saw the blood. Red slices covered Ivor’s right side and arm. She froze.
“Try to command him now.” Ivor’s chest was flecked with dark red slashes and long trails of bright ruby. Perspiration shone on his temples and belly, his abs still flexing from his deep breathing.
Charlotte realized that while she’d let Ivor fuck her mouth, he’d been mutilating himself, shedding his blood to feed Ryder.
Biting her swollen lip, she closed her eyes, struggling to focus and gather her power, her body still humming in a sexual high, her mind struggling with the shock of the tableau.
She met Ryder’s red gaze and said with a strong push of power, “Sit back.”
He stayed on his knees. She wilted, sitting with a thump of disappointment.
“Look at his face, little foxfire. Do you see? He is healing.”
She looked. Ryder’s cheeks still bore bruises, and a bad cut still sat above one brow, but he generally did look quite more like his handsome self. Except for those eyes.
Charlotte gently touched the edge of a large cut on Ivor’s bicep. “I don’t know if I could do this to myself.” She shuddered at the warmth of his blood. “My God, these are so deep you could bleed to death.”
He laughed a soft chuckle. “I’m a werewolf. In a few minutes these will be gone. Look.” He held out his arm and pointed to a bright red line on his forearm. “That’s the first one I made and it’s closed.”
She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. It’s . . . just incredible of you to help us like this. I’m so sad for the pain, and ashamed of how scared I am.”
“Ah, now.” He ducked his head down and kissed the center of her forehead. Staying close, he stared into her eyes.
She thought she saw something stir deep in his gaze, slinking between the shades of blue.
He blinked, smiled with a tiny crook of his lips. “I take it back. You are interesting enough to be worth this.”
Blushing, she glanced away, feeling shy and touched. She took in a shaky breath. “I’m not a werewolf, so being bled is not something I’m used to.” She rubbed at the blood on her fingers and remembered the cuts from the rope. “I won’t become a werewolf, will I?”
He took her hand in his, wiping the blood from it. “We are born, not made. And I will be careful of your pain.”
She shivered. What did that mean? She swallowed on the urge to cry and tasted him again. “So what now?”
He smiled. “Now I think we know that one orgasm is a bit too mild for what he needs. There’s someone in this room capable of giving so much more.”
Ivor pushed her onto her back with one hard shove. Her hair flew everywhere and her boobs slid to the side of her ribs. “Hey!”
“Hay is for horses. I’m more interested in something along the lines of, Yes, yes, fuck me now you wild wolf.”
She burst into laughter until he grabbed her panties and pulled them down her legs. Suddenly quiet, she watched his face as he slid her thigh to the side. Nothing in his eyes betrayed any negative thought about her chubby thighs or ass. Something inside her melted at the acceptance.
He put his hands under her legs, then hefted her knees up onto his shoulders. She shouted, neck bent, only her upper back on the floor.
Ivor wrapped one hand around her ribs, gazing down into her shocked face. “Any requests? Feel free to let me know.”
Still gaping at him, she braced her hands on the floor. The position put his face inches from her folds. Her face flamed, thinking of what he could smell now.
Holding her gaze, he lowered his mouth and took control of her. With his eyes demanding her response, she stared at him, gasping, hips bucking, while he drilled his tongue into her vagina, flicked around the opening, then laved along her labia. Her belly churned with heat. His teeth scraped, his chin and nose burrowed into delicate flesh, and his hot breath scalded her.
And after that initial whirlwind, he sent a finger into her ass, his thumb into her channel, and pressed them together, rubbing in a slow, mind-melting circle. She called out, hands curling into fists. Clenching her insides only made the beautiful delight swirl faster, made her penetration more vivid. Then his mouth settled over her clit, sealing tight with hard, quick suction, tongue rubbing.
Her eyes rolled up into her head. She came, panting, almost immediately, body flushing under a volcanic rush of pleasure. Something stung her thigh, but she hardly noticed.
He set his teeth around her clit, then flicked the very tip of it in a too-fast flutter with his tongue, changing the angle of his thumb inside her so that it rubbed up instead of down, petting the inside of her belly. In heartbeats, she came again. A sharp burn made her hiss, but the orgasm kept washing over her, shaking her muscles into pudding.
Now he opened his mouth, pressing his tongue directly over her clit. With long, hard licks, he stroked the swollen bit again and again.
She moaned and twisted, heels drumming on his back. “Too much!” Her body was both weightless and leaden. Her mind locked on the sensation at her core, imprisoned.
He merely grunted, continuing the slow torture while his hand thrust against her body, fingers reaching, swirling.
It took a lot longer for her to come this time. Long enough that she noticed the tickling trickle of blood over the side of her belly and hip from two short cuts high on her thigh. She had not one iota of worry for them. All she could do was arch, pushing back against his strength, craving another blast of the light.
He met her gaze again, light blue centers ringed with a rare dark sapphire. One lock of hair stuck to his sweaty brow. His shoulders churned in a slow circle, his whole body leaning into her pleasure. Her gaze fell to the hand that rested against her hip, one silver arc of metal between his fingers, hovering, waiting. She tightened, staring at it. His tongue stroked, scouring her again and again.
The metal tip touched the tissue-paper skin at the juncture of her thigh. Her hips lifted that much higher toward his mouth. Her skin dented from the press of the wire marred with red. His other wrist twisted, grinding into her, his knuckles all that kept his fingers from reaching to the back of her womb where he strained against her body.
He bit down on her clit, hard and holding. Fire took over her skin, her voice, her bones blurring. The metal disappeared into her skin, a bright burst of red slinking down the plane of her body. She didn’t feel it at all. Fascinated, she listened to herself shriek, watched a new pump of gem-bright liquid ooze, and barely held on to reality as the orgasm stopped time.
When she sagged, he let her hips slide to the floor. His fingers left her, and he pressed hard against the three one-inch cuts, holding the wad of her underwear to them firmly. With her heels still limp against his shoulders, she stared blindly at the ceiling, floating. And in that lost moment of bliss, Charlotte let one arm flop to the side.
She saw the shock in Ivor’s eyes at the same second she realized what she’d done. In the time it took to turn her head, Ryder attacked and Ivor’s fist slammed out. Ryder’s fingers came so close to her wrist she felt the breeze. Ivor threw himself over backward. They slid out of reach. They sat frozen, entwined, while Ryder snarled and groaned.
I’m an idiot was the first thought that congealed in her stunned mind. It was closely followed by Gram, look at me now. Surety flooded her. Ryder looked so much better. It was working. They were going to beat the Elder.
Ivor chuckled. “Try to remember what we’re here for.” She smacked at him, untangling their limbs. “Let me command him again.”
He helped her sit up. They knelt side by side near the wall, considering Ryder. The bruises and cuts were gone from his face. Only a few bright trails of blood remained on his torso, including the big slash Charlotte had seen the Elder give him.
She held out her hand, and Ivor took it, wrapping his blunt fingers tight around hers. She pulled up her energy, let it sizzle down her arms.
Ivor jerked. “What is that?”
She looked at him, surprised. “I’m calling my energy forward, the same way Ryder taught me.”
Ivor shook his head. “It feels fucking fantastic. There’s no other word I can use, sorry. Fucking is just what it’s like.”
He whipped his head around toward Ryder. “I think he’d like it, too.” He stood up.
“Ivor . . .”
He slashed his hand and she fell silent. He crept toward Ryder, slowly, hands out, like a wrestler. Ryder stretched the full length of his leash, his leaner form quivering.
When Ivor was just at the edge of Ryder’s reach, he paused. “Come here, you cocky bastard.”
There was a blur of bodies too fast for Charlotte to follow, but then Ivor had Ryder’s hand pulled out straight and pinned to the floor. No matter how he flailed with his feet, he couldn’t reach Ivor.
Ivor grunted, his body leaping as Ryder tried to take back his hand. “Get over here, Charlotte. Charge him up, and try to get through. I think we’re close.”
She awkwardly scrambled closer, knees aching. Ivor had one hand flattened over Ryder’s fingers, the other against his wrist, leaving a small patch of skin open on the back of Ryder’s hand. Charlotte set her fingertips onto Ryder’s skin, although her touch skimmed Ivor, too. Sucking in a huge breath, she yanked her power forward, slamming it down her arms. Ivor grunted, and Ryder howled, his spine bowing.
The sound was agonizing. She didn’t know what else to do. She threw down more power, so much she felt a pinch in her own center. This man needed to come back, to be her ally, to not be lost on her watch. Words came to her, defiant and yearning.
“I call to you! We are lovers!”
Ryder fell to the floor, slack and silent. Ivor snarled, ripping his hands from Ryder’s as if they were burned, hunching over on his knees. The muscles in his shoulders bubbled and rippled, swirling in a way that was not human. Charlotte cautiously inched backward, now very aware of her stinging hip. She pressed one hand to it, wondering if werewolves had trouble with blood, too.
Ryder’s paler form rolled away, his dark head rising with weariness, the chain hanging loose for the first time. She met his black gaze while he took the links in both hands, then ripped his arms wide, snapping the line with a shower of purple glitter.
Ivor’s blond hair swayed as he got up on all fours, head low.
“He’s loose, Ivor.” She whispered without knowing why.
Ivor groaned. Ryder stood, walked to him, nudged him with his foot. “Are you suffering, you stupid Norwegian?”
Ivor held up a hand, and Ryder clasped his forearm. Both men’s muscles leaped into relief as the vampire drew the werewolf to his feet. Charlotte swallowed. Ivor was erect, in a very big way, although he swayed, hunched, as if also wounded. A glance at Ryder’s hips also revealed the ridge of an erection, clearly outlined by the soft black leather. The men kept their grip, facing each other but also angled toward Charlotte.
Ryder looked at her, his eyes dark once again. “Hello, sweet. Well done, bringing me in from the Hunger.” Ryder’s voice was smooth and controlled, with a resonance to it she didn’t recognize.
She nodded, throat stuck. Weakness trembled through her muscles, but she didn’t relax. It was absolutely an incredible relief to see him back to normal. But something was happening here. That, and they were quite sim
ply magnificent together. Her blood was so hot and unsteady that standing to join them didn’t even seem remotely feasible. Their raw male sexuality seemed a perfect partnership. Ryder in his ripped, slashed pants with a chain necklace, and Ivor nude and massive.
“You fail to understand what you’ve called forth.” Ryder’s voice came even slower, a melodious, stretched-out tenor.
She shook her head, the words reverberating in a way that made the floor slide beneath her. Her thigh muscles flickered, and it made her clench inside. She wanted.
“Don’t. Don’t mesmerize her. She did it by accident. She didn’t mean it.” Ivor’s voice thrummed with a new gritty rasp, almost like it echoed from two throats.
She looked from one to the other, very aware she was nude, her vagina full of ready cream, her breasts swollen, nipples taut. “Welcome back, Ryder. Ivor helped me save you.”
Ryder nodded. “I know he did. Tell me, Charlotte. Will you stand by what you created?”
She tilted her head, struggling not to touch herself, or reach for them, or beg. Filtering back through her recent words, she couldn’t find what he was talking about. “What did I say?”
Ivor rasped, “You said you wanted us as lovers.”
Us? Us! “Ummm . . .” She hadn’t planned her words. Hadn’t she already learned that lesson tonight? Her heartfelt call had been made while she’d been touching both men. What had her exact words been? I call to you. We are lovers. Well, that didn’t sound too bad.
Ivor lifted his head, and his eyes blazed an incredible blue. “Woman. You did not ask. You issued a decree, backed by immense magic. With the amount of blood and sex stirring in the air, invoking a joining of lovers was beyond bold. You took a blood-ridden vampire and a battle-heated wolf, and claimed us.”
Her jaw sagged loose. The lust pulsing in her body flared out, singing praise while her brain circled.
Ryder stretched out his free hand toward her, palm up. “You have us both. We will follow your call, always, the woman who mastered us.”
