Blacke and Blue

by Fiona Blackthorne

  Suddenly, she felt Ger’s mouth leave her pussy, and she whined in instinctive protest, only to gasp around Ian’s cock when she felt Ger’s swollen tip against her pussy and his rough thumbs against her clit.

  At the same moment as he pressed down and stroked hard on her clit, he slid himself into her in a single smooth motion. She cried out against Ian’s cock, her hand coming around the base of it to hold on hard.

  Everything melted, melded, and blended into a single existence of thrusting, pinches, strokes, cocks, and fingers. Skin didn’t start and stop. It was all one sensation that was building until the universe exploded and was created anew.

  Then there was a blinding white darkness behind her eyes and she felt lifted and suspended in nothingness where the numbers to count the pleasured throbs didn’t even exist in concept. Only feeling. Only sensation. Two men, shuddering into her, filling her, touching her, skin and skin upon skin.

  Slowly, the flashing, passionate darkness behind Trisha’s eyes settled into weighty blackness that pulled her down into sensation. She felt two bodies beside her, two chests rising and falling. Hands upon her body, skimming her skin—skin that fully contained her spirit now—and caressing her softly. She felt the slickness between her thighs and tasted the odd, salty, muskiness in the back of her mouth. She felt the warmth of the bodies and the cool of the air. It was almost as if she could feel each thread in the sheets she lay upon.

  Drifting and exhausted, Trisha lay still, too tired even to pay attention to the anxious thoughts waking up in the back of her mind. Arms came around her and lifted her gently so that she could sip from a glass of water held to her lips. The cold water was sweet and felt good, washing away the dryness and the taste. She jumped, her eyelids fluttering open for just a moment when a warm washcloth was softly applied between her thighs. A few drops of cold water spilled on her sore nipple, and she hissed at the overwhelming sensation, almost wanting to snarl in pleasure-pain when lips came and licked away the water.

  Voices drifted like distant waves, breaking on the dissolving sands of her consciousness.

  “Our woman is amazing.”

  “She’s not ours yet.”

  “Yes, she is. She has been, and she will be.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. There are all the things she doesn’t know about you. About the truth.”

  “I haven’t lied to her.”

  “You haven’t told her everything.”

  “I will.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, she’ll leave us when she finds out.”

  “She’ll leave anyway.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted her to stay.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  Darkness grew deeper, and stillness grew stiller. Fading and fading into nothing.

  * * * *

  The aroma was lovely, rich, warm, and slightly bitter. Just like her. Ian stared down at the coffee mug in his hands and watched the clouds of cream fade into an opaque facade, just like Trisha when one got past her defenses for even a moment.

  Wow, had it been that long since he had had sex that he was now getting sentimental and philosophical over coffee? Damn!

  And yet, it hadn’t been just sex last night. It had been something more, and the “more” was frightening the fuck out of him. Part of him wasn’t through with Trisha yet. He wanted to fight her, wrestle her down against the mattress, tie her up, and pour his molten passion into her soul until she surrendered everything she was to him. Then, and only then, would he let her come. Then, only then, would she fully be his.

  But, hell! When had he started wanting her to be fully his anyway? What was this? Where did this come from?

  He knew, though. He knew it was the moment she snarked at him in the motel office, then turned and gave him that supremely bitchy, innocent smirk when Nguyen said she had his balls. That was the moment he had lost everything he had been to her, and now, he didn’t exist anymore as just Ian McDade. He was the Ian part of Trisha, and she was the Trisha part of Ian. Ger was the foundation for them both. He saw in his brother the kismet, the faith that all was right and good. It was Ger’s rock solid belief in the ability to find peace and happiness and love that grounded them both. He saw the look of bewildered gentleness in Trisha’s eyes when she looked at Ger.

  Would she ever look at him that way? Or would she always see him as the adversarial lover, the one to fight and overcome? To be honest, Ian didn’t want that to go away. That part of Trisha turned him on like nothing else could. But part of the reason he wanted to dominate her, to have her submit to him was to get a glimpse of her soul, to have her share her softness with him, and to have her accept his gentleness—what there was of it—in return.

  Well, this coffee wasn’t going to deliver itself to Trisha’s bedside. As much as he wanted to see her awake, he also had a fair sense that without coffee, her passionate tongue would find a less pleasant outlet…especially when he told her what was going to happen today.

  * * * *

  The water ran hot over Ger’s skin. He hated the thought of washing away Trisha’s scent on him, but then he grinned as he thought of all the ways he’d get that scent back.

  Everything was exactly as it should be. Trisha in their bed, Ian making coffee, and he getting ready to start the day with them. His brow furrowed as he remembered what might come with it, and the unknown dangers this day might hold. A low growl rumbled in his throat, and his fingers and toes twitched involuntarily as his nerves reacted to the instinctive need to change into his wolf form to better protect his beloved.

  The brief, sharp surge of anger he felt at not being able to control himself as well as he wanted in that moment didn’t help, and his lips pulled back as the long, piercing canines grew out.

  With the quickness of years of practice, Ger took in a painfully slow, deep breath and asserted his human capacity for logic. There was no immediate threat. Trisha was safe in this moment. Ian was safe in this moment. The most important thing was to remain a man.

  The need to protect Trisha was so strong, and his fear of anything happening to her so deep that he found controlling himself more of a struggle than it had been in years. He scrambled for something in his mind, some way to channel the intensity of his emotions, and he found the ideal outlet in remembering the last image he had of Trisha.

  She had been curled up in the middle of their giant bed. The white of the sheets made her pale skin glow a faint peachy pink. Her vibrant red hair lay in thick, silky disarray around her head. One hand was curled under her chin like a child, and long lashes swept just a few freckles, pale enough that one had to be very, very close to see them. The outline of her body under the sheet was a perfect mix of curves and valleys, and suddenly, Ger wanted to be done with his shower.

  Grinning, he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, running into Ian with a cup of coffee as he came up the stairs.

  “Ready to beard the lion?” Ian asked with a grim chuckle.

  “Think she’ll throw anything?” Ger replied, still grinning.

  “It’s not a question of if. It’s a question of what…and how many.”

  * * * *

  Trisha opened her eyes. For a long moment, that was all there was to her thoughts. She was present, and she had opened her eyes. Then, as if it had started raining pianos, everything from the day before began to fall into place, forming sour puddles of shame and confusion.

  “Shit,” she muttered, then sat up, holding the sheet around her. She was sore, a good sore, but still that was no excuse.

  The door opened, and Ger walked in, wet and wearing only a towel. Ian followed, fully-dressed and holding a cup of coffee. For a second, she was hard-put to decide which one of them had the more mouthwatering offer.

  “Good morning, love,” Ger said, smiling and coming over to sit next to her on the bed, acting as if for all the world, he couldn’t see the
scowl on her face.

  “I’ll give you coffee if you promise not to bite,” Ian added, extending the mug to her.

  If she could have snarled, she would have as she took the mug and sipped.

  She reminded herself that somewhere on the floor were her big girl panties, along with the bra of shame, and the jeans of hot damn. They had to talk about what happened last night, and she was going to have to suck it up and start the conversation.

  Except, she didn’t really know what she wanted to say. At all.

  “So, last night,” she mumbled, hoping someone would interrupt her and help her decide exactly what she felt about it.

  “What about last night?” Ger asked gently, leaning in to drop a soft kiss on her shoulder that sent shivers of need straight to her pussy.

  She looked up and saw Ian, leaning against the post of the canopy, arms crossed and making no move to touch her. His wary expression suddenly made her feel sad in a way she didn’t like.

  “It happened,” she said firmly, determined to have a reasonable, rational adult conversation about it, before proceeding to forget it ever happened.

  “Shit, Sherlock,” Ian mocked. “You always this bright in the morning?”

  She winced inadvertently at his cold tone and looked down at her coffee. He had made it just the way she liked it. She focused on the curls of steam coming up from the surface to avoid having to look at him again and see those cold eyes on her.

  “It probably shouldn’t have happened,” she said finally, bracing herself for something nasty from Ian.

  “From a certain point of view,” Ger said slowly. “You’re right.”

  Her head shot up, and she looked at his grave face. Right then, the pain in her heart from Ian’s icy demeanor doubled at Ger’s rejection. She had been so wrong about them. So wrong about herself. So wrong about everything. How could she have made a mistake like this?

  Were her instincts going? If she could be wrong about this, what about the killer?

  Had she just slept with the Butcher of Bangor, or had she been so blinded by lust that she had let him slip through her fingers?

  Chapter 12

  “Hey, honey, wait,” Ger said quickly, reaching over to tuck a floating strand of Trisha’s hair back behind her ear. “You didn’t let me finish!”

  Trisha looked up at him cautiously, and he almost laughed. For a woman who prided herself on being able to mask her emotions and read others with pinpoint accuracy in her professional life, she sure as hell had no clue how to do it in her personal life. He sobered. The hurt on his darling’s face was an open book, and a small part of him wanted to punch Ian for putting some of it there. A larger part of him wanted to punch himself for putting the rest of the hurt there.

  “From a strict by-the-books viewpoint,” Ger said. “Last night was not kosher. I get that. But, try seeing it from my perspective. From our perspective—” He glanced at Ian. “Last night was the best night of my life. I adore you. I want…”

  He had to stop himself from spilling everything he felt and scaring her away. He had to remember that his wolf senses made him quicker and keener in his perceptions and judgments, especially about emotions and people. He had known Trisha was his from the first moment he saw her, from the second he smelled her. She was just an ordinary human, and as far as she knew, he was, too.

  “I want you so badly,” he finished. “I don’t want this to be just a fling. I don’t do flings, and my brother and I don’t share women unless we’re serious. We haven’t been serious in a long, long time. And, we’ve never been as serious as we are right now.”

  “Wait,” Trisha exclaimed, jumping slightly at his words, the hot coffee sloshing over onto her hands. She hissed and winced at the burn.

  Before he could even reach for the mug, he saw that Ian had already taken it from her and put it on the nightstand. He took her hands in his and lifted them to his lips, gently pressing a kiss with just enough pressure onto the stinging skin. The movement had loosened the sheet she had held around her, and it slipped to her waist, revealing her perfect breasts, full and heavy and tempting with peaked pink nipples.

  Ian sat down on the other side of her, roughly digging his fingers into her hair and turning her to face him.

  “You do something to me, Trisha Blacke,” he said. “I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you. Damned if I wanted it to happen or happen this way, but it has. I just keep wanting more of you, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough.”

  “Wait!” Trisha cried, her blue eyes swimming in tears, and a rosy blush burning in her cheeks. “I can’t choose one of you. I can’t stay. This can’t be more than a fling. I can’t…”

  Her voice died away as she turned back to Ger. He stared at her, his cock stirring and pulsing at her sudden vulnerability and bareness. She didn’t look like a hard-boiled FBI agent just then. She didn’t look like a bitter, frigid career woman. She looked like his beautiful, sweet angel with her broken heart and frayed wings.

  Seeing her naked from the waist up, glorious and gorgeous, the sheet now tantalizingly slipping from her waist to reveal peeks of her hips, Ger could barely remember to think coherently. His desire was starting the primal pounding in his flesh, its chant reverberating through every nerve. Still, her need to be comforted and reassured held fast to his mind, and he calmed himself just enough.

  “You keep saying, ‘I can’t,’” he said gently, running his hand up and down the bare skin of her back, delighting in the small shakes and shivers that wracked her body at his touch. “I say we can. We are. Right now. There’s no choosing. There’s just us. Whatever else comes, we deal with it, but we do it together.”

  “You mean, you want us to live together?” she exclaimed, licking her lips in an unconscious response of the desire he was carefully stirring up in her. “Like together, together? A threesome? Are you kidding?”

  “We don’t joke about this,” Ian said, taking her firmly by the chin and turning her to face him again. “Ever. Blue Moon is a different kind of place. That’s why we protect it the way we do. People want to live differently and love differently. Who the hell gives a shit? Not us, not as long as the women are cared for, safe, and happy. Two women or two men want to be together? Fine. One woman and three men? Someone wants it hot and kinky? Whatever. Happiness is too rare in this shitty world to turn away from any chance for it.”

  “The whole town is like…like this?” Trisha murmured, her body starting to soften lusciously in Ger’s arms.

  Ger took advantage of this to snuggle her back against his chest and run his hands over her breasts, making sure his callused fingertips just grazed her nipples. He was rewarded with moaning and an arch, and he saw the flash in Ian’s eyes.

  “The whole town is looking for happiness, babe,” Ian said, his look becoming darker, lustful, as he peeled off his shirt and kicked off his boots. “And, we’ll take it any way we can get it.”

  Ger leaned back against the pillows, pulling Trisha with him so a now-naked Ian could crawl onto the bed and slowly pull down the rest of the sheet to reveal her hips, her pussy, and her legs and feet with their cute little round toes.

  For a moment, Ian looked like the wolf in the family, the way he was prowling toward Trisha from the end of the bed. Ger felt Trisha squirm against him, her round bottom grinding against his cock and filling his head with images of him taking her ass, tight and hot.

  He pinched her nipples roughly, twisting them just a little bit and flicking the very tips so that she kicked with her legs and tried to buck upwards as if to rub herself against something that wasn’t there.

  And then it was. Ian grabbed her hips and plunged his mouth down onto her pussy. Ger easily supported her head and back with his supernatural strength, using this as an opportunity to nibble her ear and sweep his tongue around the inner shell, reveling in her mewling, wordless cries as she struggled against them both.

  He tightened his grip on her, enjoying the sensation of letting his strength
flow but also controlling it so he didn’t hurt her. Fangs and cock both felt ready to spring, but he fought back the wolf, letting it out just enough to whisper in her ear, “Oh, Trisha, we’re going to prove to you over and over again just how good we are together until you can’t say no.”

  “That a threat?” she gasped, her eyes flying open and glancing wildly about. “Or promise?”

  “Both, darlin’,” Ger replied, grinning. “Both.”

  * * * *

  Suddenly, her gentle Ger had turned into a lover with a spark of danger, and it was Ian who was lovingly kissing, licking, and caressing her pussy and the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

  Ger nipped at her neck, leaving just enough sting that she fleetingly wondered just how sharp his teeth were. His tongue laved at the mark, and then, he began to place a line of biting kisses down her right shoulder, still holding her effortlessly up above the mattress with just one arm. His other hand was torturing a nipple, letting her burn slowly with steady flicks, but then just as she was about to peak, they turned into a twisting, teasing pinch and pull that both pushed her further ahead and roughly pulled her back.

  “You like that, don’t you, love?” Ger said, nuzzling her neck before biting the original spot he had marked again. “Just a little bit of pain, something to fight against. Something to make you want to scream before you can admit you want more.”

  “Oh my God,” she moaned, his words flowing like a river of honey and sex into her brain.

  “Oh, she’s a fighter,” Ian said, looking across the expanse of her belly and breasts into her eyes as he held her buttocks in his hands and lifted her easily to his lips. “She gets turned on by resisting, but she really wants to be forced to surrender.”

  “Who’s the psychologist, now, McDade?” Trisha gasped, struggling and wriggling against their hands, feeling for all the world physically tiny and vulnerable, leaving words as her only weapon.