by Ann Cory
“Eat your heart out boys,” she said into the mirror and then laughed.
She went downstairs and glanced outside the front door. Her smile instantly turned down at the gray drizzly day in front of her. A murder of crows circled the front walkway, their caws so loud they almost pierced her eardrums.
Already the depression had set back in. She felt as miserable as the day she arrived.
She slammed the door shut and rested her back against it. What was her problem? Why couldn’t she make up her mind about her future? She wasn’t a child. She could do this.
It was more than making up her mind. It was coming to terms with where her life had taken her. How much regret she lived with. How much energy she spent punishing others and punishing herself. As if she couldn’t ever truly be happy.
Then there was the heavy weight of guilt on her shoulders. She loved her parents but they’d been eccentric people. They were mistaken in thinking that she could handle anything they threw her way. She’d been so young, and they’d thrown her to the wolves. But she couldn’t dwell on that. She was an adult now.
If only she could shake the disturbing letters her mother sent just weeks before her death. Not even letters but strings of words scribbled down on faded paper. Words that didn’t make sense. Gone was the beautiful curve of her mother’s penmanship. In its place was a mad attempt scrawled in…fear? Anger? Pain? She couldn’t tell. Her father had called once, asking for her to come down and see them. His voice urgent, terrified even. It wasn’t like him at all. Shayla didn’t know why it didn’t prompt her to see them. Stubbornness? No, just plain fear. Something that dictated her entire life.
It took her months to finally make up her mind to see her parents, and then she’d gotten word they died. If she’d visited sooner, would they still be alive?
She walked down the hall and fought the barrage of tears that threatened to spill over. This pity party had to stop.
From around the corner, Armand stepped out, his lips set in a smirk.
“You look radiant today, my sweet.”
“Be quiet,” she muttered. “I have dark circles under my eyes.”
He brought his face close and squinted. “I don’t see any.”
“I covered them with makeup, but trust me, they’re there. What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you until later.”
His boyish grin let her know he was up to something. “We came to check up on you.”
Shayla cocked her head. “We?”
Bastian made his appearance wearing an equally mischievous grin. “Surprise, love.”
Now she really didn’t trust them. They were acting funny. And they were being nice to one another. Two huge red flags.
“You know very well that I have until midnight to announce my final decision.” Her voice reflected more anger than she’d planned to exude.
They looked at her with brows arched.
“Pardon,” Armand asked.
“I know what you’re doing. You’re here to pull out all the stops. Probably duel for me or something immature.”
Bastian smiled. “We considered a battle in your honor but didn’t think you’d go for it. If you would rather we did…”
“No,” she shouted. “You expect me to believe that you two have all of a sudden become friends? That you’ve put your differences aside? I’m not buying it. What are you up to?”
Armand’s puppy eyes almost had her fooled. “Honest. We aren’t here to coax you into anything. Just to show you a good time. We have a surprise for you. Let us entertain you. Please?”
Denying them took far too much energy.
“Oh, all right.”
They each took her hand and led her into the ballroom, her favorite room in the manor. It was elegant and colorful, a huge contrast to the gray and gloom of the rest of the place.
Authentic crystal chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceilings. Oil paintings of people she only wished she could meet claimed the wall space. It was a room fit for a princess.
Bastian bowed before her and held out his hands. “Care to dance?”
Shayla was about to ask to what when the sounds of piano and violin music filled the air.
“I’d love to.”
She nestled in close to his body and rested her chin on his shoulder. Eyes closed, she allowed him to guide her around the room. It was what she needed and helped take the edge off.
At some point Armand took his place and, with his dramatic flair, nearly swept her off her feet. It seemed like hours passed and she’d forgotten the depression. She laughed and enjoyed herself more than she had in a long time.
The music from the record player switched to a livelier song. Bastian and Armand spun her around until she was so dizzy she fell into a throne-like chair. Before she could get up Bastian knelt at her feet. His eyes were dark and dreamy.
Shayla cleared her throat. “What are you going to do?”
“Get you off. Any objections?”
She swallowed hard as his hands reached up beneath her dress and pulled her panties down. He brought the lace to his nose and inhaled. To watch him was plain sexy.
“Nope. None.”
Bastian raised her dress up further, exposing the pink slit that drove him wild. Face between her legs, he inhaled her scent. A scent he could never get enough of. His cock wrenched hard and pressed tight into the seam of his pants. He brought the panties to his nose and inhaled again.
“This is like a damn drug,” he growled. “It makes me want to fuck you non-stop.”
He slid his hands underneath her thighs and brought them up and over the arms of the chair while Armand worked the dress over her head. Braless, just the way he liked to see her. He paused to watch Armand work her nipples until they became taut little buds. The way her body writhed and blushed turned him on something awful.
Bastian stood and removed his clothing. He didn’t want anything between them. Back to his knees, he pressed his face between her thighs and licked along her soft, dewy skin. His fingers worked her creaminess around her pussy and then along his lips. Her gentle moans echoed in the ballroom. The kind of music he could listen to for a lifetime.
“Taste me,” she moaned. “Please.”
He licked her clit and then sealed his mouth over it, suckling the mysterious bead as if the act alone sustained his existence.
Her legs flailed on either side of his head, pelvis grinding against his mouth. He looked up to see Armand’s lips quivering and eyes ravenous as he looked on. They both wanted inside her wet heat. Buried deep. They didn’t want to share her or the title of best lover, but for now, they would have to. Just for a little while longer.
Bastian pulled back and stared into her eyes. “I’m going to make you come. And then Armand will have his turn. To finish it off, we’ll take you together. Each orgasm like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.”
Before she could utter a word of protest, he thrust his fingers inside her. He watched the way her lashes fluttered and her jaw slackened. When his thumb brushed her clit, it made her pupils get big and her face turn pink. The face of an angel and the body of a sinner. Damn, he loved her.
Her scent beckoned to him again and he suckled her clit. Drawing the pink pebble into his mouth, he kept thrusting his fingers, deeper and faster. She moved with him, widening her thighs, grinding her pussy hard against his lips. Her melodic pleas kept his cock rock hard. He couldn’t wait to be inside her.
When he knew she wouldn’t last much longer, he pulled his mouth away and jiggled her clit between his fingers.
“You just come, sweetheart. We’re both going to watch.”
She bit at her lip, eyelids barely at half-mast.
“That’s it baby. I want your cream to run down my fingers. Hell, I want your cream to run down my hand. And when that pussy of yours is done flooding, Armand is going to take his turn. You’re so beautiful, love. I just love to watch the lust radiate from your eyes.”
Her body arched, and then she sc
reamed. Bastian cursed as she creamed his hand good. All he could think about was how incredible it would feel right now to shove his cock inside her. To thrust inside her moist heat.
But for now, he’d have to be patient as Armand had been for him.
“Stand up, beautiful,” he said and let her rest her weight on him.
Armand took a seat on the chair and reached for her. He brought her pussy right down on his erection, well lubed from her cream.
Envy racked Bastian’s body, but he wouldn’t let her see. Instead, he focused on her face.
“I thought Armand had the best seat, but I think I do. I get to watch the way your body reacts each time you go down on his cock. I get to watch the way your nipples harden like cherry pits, so tempting I just want to bite them.”
He loved the way she was open. Never shy or embarrassed about her body or needs. Always willing to try new things and new positions. He looked forward to a lifetime of bringing her rapture. He could afford this one night to share her and be civil with Armand. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could do it.
He watched her climax and could barely wait another second.
Shayla could barely keep it together. Her body was on fire. She liked the way Bastian stared at her while Armand fucked her pussy. She moistened her fingers with her tongue and brought them to her clit. Slowly she circled her fingers and smiled. She enjoyed the tortured expression on Bastian’s face. In retaliation, he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it from base to tip. God, she wanted to taste him. Fill her mouth with his saltiness. At the same time Armand’s big thick cock had her pussy spread unbelievably wide.
“Work that clit,” Armand whispered. “I want you touch yourself while I fuck you good.”
She nodded and circled her fingers in a swift, steady pace. Bastian ran his tongue along his lips and kept tugging his cock. Shayla could feel the climax building. She wanted to come because she knew what was next. She’d have them both, the way she preferred. The way it was meant to be.
Armand pumped up into her so hard she could barely keep from falling.
“Come, Shayla. Hurry.”
Her hand burned from working her clit, but she didn’t let up.
“Mm, yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I’m close, I’m close, just like that, just like that. Oh god, yes.”
The release was crazy sweet the way it slammed through her. She barely had time to catch her breath when her lovers helped her turn around. Now she faced Armand. Her legs were sore from the chair arms, but she didn’t care. A little discomfort was so worth the pleasure.
She started to ride Armand’s cock and welcomed the cool liquid Bastian coated her ass with. His fingers toyed with her tight opening briefly before in one quick motion he entered her.
Shayla moaned into the bliss, all stretched and full of cock. She was so completely soaked that her cream ran down her inner thighs.
“We want to hear you, sweets. Let it all go when you climax and fill this house with your lusty cries.”
They’d get an earful all right. Armand and Bastian thrust relentlessly into her. Intent on getting her off. Their bodies were incredibly close. All mashed together. Slick and slippery. The scent of their arousal strong and permeating the air. Her entire body was high on constant stimulation. She felt things more than before. Each movement bringing her to a heightened state that she didn’t believe existed. This was their final showdown. Not the incredible sex from last night—that had been the cake. Now she was getting the icing, and it would be the sweetest of memories.
Their grunts grew in volume. The tightness in her belly started to come undone. She should be sad that this was the last time to be with them, but instead she milked it with everything she had. It felt so damn good. Most women could only fantasize about two immaculate lovers. She had the real thing.
“Scream it, love,” Armand pleaded.
Despite the ache in her legs and the kink in her side, she let them take her body until she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Yes. I’m going to come right the fuck now.”
She screamed their names as they simultaneously climaxed.
Shayla crumpled forward into Armand with Bastian’s arms draped over her back. Her body jolted every few seconds and made her gasp.
She refused to let this be the last time. She pulled away from their stronghold and stood with her hands on her hips.
“You are incredible. As lovers, as friends, and as men,” she started. “I want you both as part of my life. What we’ve shared during this time has been amazing. You’ve helped me through some difficult times in my life. It’s your love, compassion and kindness that give me strength.”
“You can’t be serious,” Armand quipped. “You must choose one of us.”
She waved her hand. “Impossible. It’s not something that I can do.”
Bastian kissed her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid of the unknown. Embrace it. Whoever you choose will make you a very happy bride.”
Unreal. They were so damn stubborn. “You claim my happiness is your first priority. Is that a lie?”
“Of course not. I’ve never lied to you,” Bastian stated.
Armand shook his head. “It’s not something I could ever do.”
“I can’t be happy picking only one of you. If I can’t have you both, then I’ll be unhappy the rest of my life.”
Armand’s lips curled back. “It’s been hell dealing with him for a year. He’s an enemy to my coven. I can’t possibly do it for an eternity.”
“I hate to agree with anything he says,” Bastian added, “but the feeling is mutual.”
They were so immature. So hell-bent on which one was the right man for her that they couldn’t see the obvious.
“Don’t you understand? You are the perfect opposites for me. You are my sweet and—”
“Sour,” interrupted Armand. “Me being sweet, of course.”
She frowned. “No, spice is what I was going to say. You’re my night and day. My cream and sugar. My internal balance. The point is, together you make up the perfect lover. You satisfy me, as one, to a point I’ve never reached before. I crave the idea of being your woman. To have the love of two committed and sensual lovers who have been so devoted and attentive to me. I can’t imagine not having your bodies beside me.”
Bastian groaned. “But, him of all vampires? What if I introduced you to another member of my coven? There are plenty of other lovers to be had. Far less conceited might I add.”
She crossed her arms and narrowed her glance. “No.”
“It isn’t fair to ask me to deal with someone I loathe forever,” Armand scoffed.
“I didn’t find your request fair, either,” she countered. “It has caused me nothing but heartache and distress. Both or none at all—but hear this: if you choose none, I will grow old alone. I will die alone. And I’ll die with a broken heart. You’ll have only yourselves to blame.”
“Great, you’ve picked up Armand’s flair for drama,” Bastian said dryly.
“And your stubbornness,” she concluded. “I’ll let you think about what I’ve said.”
“That won’t take long.”
Shayla folded her arms. “I’m serious. I want you both. Try to find a way to deal with it or find a way to say goodbye. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make myself something to eat.”
She walked down the hallway and headed to the kitchen. Between the hot sex and the heated argument, she’d worked up an appetite. To her surprise, they didn’t chase after her. She imagined them still standing there with their jaws to the floor, beside themselves with what she said. Adrenaline surged through her entire body. She’d never made the decisions before. For once, she felt in control and empowered.
As she entered the kitchen, Shayla noticed a bitter chill hung in the air. Looking around, she didn’t see any open windows to explain it. Too hungry to investigate further, she opened the refrigerator and scanned the nearly bare shelves. Cheese would have to suffice.
; She reached for a package when a deep tone resonated around the house, vibrating the floorboards. Shayla straightened up quickly and closed the fridge. What the hell was that? She called out to Bastian and Armand, but her voice was drowned out by a downpour that beat against the windows. Great, a storm. She hated storms. The lights flickered a few times and she decided to forgo the hunger pangs.
As she reentered the foyer, the wind howled and blew debris underneath the door. The lights flickered again and sent goose bumps across her flesh. Her house was scary enough during the daytime, but during a storm, it frightened her even more.
She hurried up the stairs to grab the brass candleholder from her bedroom. Before her foot hit the last step, the electricity went out and enveloped her in darkness. Save for soft light that spilled out from under the doorway of the study.
Just ignore it, she ordered herself, but her curiosity won out.
Breath held, she walked forward at a tentative pace and rested her hand around the knob.
It’s just a room, she reminded herself. There’s no reason to be afraid.
She opened the door a crack and peeked inside. At once, she relaxed. The candles inside the wall sconces were lit and flickering.
“Armand? Bastian? What are you imps up to now?” They must have known the storm would make her uneasy. She’d never told them how the room itself made her uncomfortable, but she appreciated their attempt to calm her.
She walked a couple steps further into the room. Despite the candles, there was a noticeable draft that differed from the other rooms of the house. Shayla paused at the window to look out when a flurry of crows appeared, their wings fluttering hard against the window—so hard she worried the glass would break. Candles or not, the room freaked her out and she just wanted to get the hell out of there.
A triple flash of lightning brightened up the room momentarily, long enough for her to notice something different about the portrait. A slow scream started from her gut. The portrait of a man’s face that had always frightened her was gone. The canvas was blank. Shivers raked her back and made the fine hairs on her neck rise. Another batch of lightning illuminated the room followed by rolling thunder that she felt in her core.
