by Jory Strong
He recaptured her nipple. Sucked and bit. Tugged. Only slowly relinquishing it, pulling and distending it with his mouth until Karena moaned and arched her back, loath to lose the feel of his lips on her and whimpering in protest as her nipple popped free, wet from his mouth.
Zyan repositioned himself so he looked down at her face. “You like it that Kaeden and I are lovers, don’t you? It excited you to see his hand on my cock, to know he guided me to your entrance?”
A jolt of white heat went straight to Karena’s clit and, as if sensing it, Kaeden’s hand followed, taking the stiffened knob between his fingers and squeezing, making the unprotected head throb.
“Tell me,” Zyan said, voice hardening, demanding an answer. Demanding the truth with a verbal hint of dominance that reminded her of the way he’d held her wrists to the ground.
“Yes.”
“And when the others watched as Kaeden knelt in front of you and pleasured you with his mouth? You enjoyed that as well, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“When we’re in the desert we live in tent cities. The sounds of lovemaking carry, leaving little to the imagination about the acts taking place in individual dwelling places.”
Zyan’s fingers traced the outline of her navel. “They’ll hear us order you to your hands and knees. They’ll know we mount you as the stallion did the mare earlier today. The unmatched will fantasize about the day when they’re able to claim a woman and fill her with their seed. And all will wonder, when you begin to show, if we used ropes to hold you open, restraints the same way we do with unruly studs and inexperienced mares.”
On a shiver, Karena escaped the intensity of his gaze and the eroticism of his words. She looked down the length of their bodies and saw both men were hard again.
Feminine pride filled her at the sight of their thick cocks. They might be from another world, but they were human, the same as the men on Qumaar were. And she knew there were few things that could make a man ready again so quickly after finding release.
Passionate desire.
Or the rarest and most expensive aphrodisiacs.
She erected a mental block as the memory of Ebann’s face above her own threatened to restore the fears and insecurities she’d harbored even before they became reality with the first flow of menstrual blood. Instead of sinking into the painful past, she seized her newfound feminine power, turning Zyan’s game by saying, “Is that what you do to Kaeden? Tumble him onto his hands and knees and take him?”
Zyan laughed, a pleasing sound that sent heat rolling through her. “When he’ll let me. Or when it’s my turn. Or when the outcome of a bet determines who will submit.”
He crouched, testicles hanging beneath his cock in a potent display of masculinity. “Should I tell Kaeden to assume the position? Do you want him to? Would it excite you to see him being taken?”
The swelling and throb of her clit between Kaeden’s fingers, and the flow of arousal from her slit, made hiding the truth impossible, though she had no desire to. She enjoyed the sexual freedom of their play, felt again the thrill of being feminine, of having power because of it.
Karena reached for Kaeden, fingers curling around his length. “Let him take you while I watch.”
His cock jerked in her hand, moisture beading on the already wet tip. “Only if you pleasure yourself while he does it.”
“Yes, I’ll pleasure myself.”
A shudder went through Kaeden.
He rose onto his hands and knees.
She rewarded him by stroking the head of his penis.
His hips bucked, heightening her excitement with the knowledge that he’d find release by fucking through her fist if she wanted it.
From somewhere in the bedding Zyan pulled a small tube of lubricant.
Karena watched, mesmerized by the sight of him preparing himself, and then Kaeden. Dipping fingers into the dark orifice before pressing his cock to the puckered opening.
“Touch yourself, Karena,” Zyan ordered. “Tug on the nipples that will one day nurse sons and provide a sensual feast for their fathers. Thrust your fingers into the channel that’s even now filled with our seed and our hopes for the future.”
Zyan punctuated the command with a shallow thrust that had Kaeden gripping the material spread out on the sand, pain and pleasure blending into what she knew was a familiar ecstasy for both men.
She obeyed, touching herself. Giving over to sensual wickedness as she watched Zyan move in and out of Kaeden, both of their expressions revealing an intensity of emotion. Not from physical satisfaction alone, but from the emotional connection they shared, the love and caring evident on their faces, and the trust implicit in the sexual act itself.
It was beautiful to see them together. And though she hadn’t expected to find release again, as their breathing grew labored and their movements more urgent, she felt a feverish, desperate need to be part of what they shared, to cry out when they cried out.
Her gaze flicked from Zyan’s expression to the sight of his hips moving in a steady rhythm. To Kaeden’s cock, bobbing and straining, brushing across his abdomen and leaving a silky trail, like the wet lick of a tongue.
She wanted to put her mouth on him, to pleasure him as he’d pleasured her earlier. But even had their positions allowed it, before she could move, before she could look once again at Zyan’s face, Kaeden came. His cock jerking as semen escaped, striking his belly and chest as, with a guttural moan, Zyan followed him in release.
Karena thrust fingers into her slit, tightened them painfully on a taut nipple. She was nearly sobbing with frustration when firm hands gripped her wrists. Zyan forcing her away from her cunt. Kaeden from her breast.
Mouths and tongues replaced her own desperate touches. Sucking. Caressing. Thrusting. Shattering all barriers so she found what they’d found.
She cried out as release swept through her, her back arching and buttocks clenching in those precious seconds before her body went liquid, boneless in contentment.
They kissed her, sharing the decadent, carnal taste of pleasure. And she felt no motivation to stir.
Karena made only a murmured sound when Zyan suggested they bathe. Then another in appreciation when Kaeden picked her up, carrying her easily to a small, rock-lined pool.
There were earthenware jugs set aside for cleaning and rinsing, no doubt to reduce the amount of water that would be wasted if what served as a bathing area was drained after each use.
Kaeden set her on her feet then lifted one of the sand-colored vessels. He poured water into Zyan’s cupped hands, producing lather from a powdered substance in them.
Karena sighed in appreciation as slowly, meticulously, Zyan began applying the soapy mixture to her skin. And then Kaeden joined him.
They touched every inch of her. Lingered on her breasts and mound, ministering to her with tender caresses.
They saw to her needs first. Cleaning. Rinsing. The water sliding downward over sensitized flesh until Zyan lifted her and set her in the shallow pool.
She sank gratefully into the sun-heated water, a voyeur again as Zyan and Kaeden bathed and rinsed, exchanging kisses and caresses before joining her, sitting on either side of her.
Above them, and for as far as the eye could see, the sky was an explosion of color as day fought in the moments before night descended. In front of them the horses grazed and drank, the oasis yielding to sands made red by the sunset.
Quiet joy settled in her, a happiness with only a small shadow of discontent marring it—that, as she’d been on Qumaar, she was still a prisoner, even if here the cage was large enough to provide for a great deal of freedom.
“Is there really no way for a woman to leave Adjara?” she asked, unable to stop herself though the greater part of her accepted, seeing a future here that held the bright promise of being loved and useful, of being valued both as a woman and for her talent with horses.
Dismay rushed into Kaeden at Karena’s question. Had they not pleasured her adeq
uately? Demonstrated with their passion how much they desired her? Had they not already convinced her they would care for her and ensure she never regretted becoming their third?
He looked at his cock, half-erect still. But rather than feel relief at knowing he’d soon be ready to couple again, worry returned. Increased now by fear of disappointing her after the last of the gajaalo fruit left his system.
He wouldn’t be able to remain in a near-constant hardened state then. Wouldn’t have the incredible stamina he’d had on this day.
For the majority of the men belonging to the Elsian tribe, they would experience the powerful effects of the gajaalo one time in their lives, when they sought to add a female to their partnership. Only occasionally was it given to couples whose relationship had become disharmonious, so they could experience a unity of body, mind and emotion in order to overcome the obstacles that threatened to separate them. And in extremely rare instances, when years passed and no children were conceived, the fruit was administered as a fertility aid.
Tension mounted in Kaeden’s chest. Even if they were fortunate enough to stumble upon the rare gajaalo plant and harvest its fruit, they couldn’t use it in order to duplicate this day with Karena. They would be honor bound to surrender their find to the mystic, so another pair might benefit from it.
I worry too much, he told himself, repeating Zyan’s frequent admonishment and forcing his attention away from his concerns and fears.
He looked at Karena, her head tilted back, her eyes closed, listening as Zyan responded to her question about leaving Adjara.
“The wealth of our tribe depends on what we find in the mountains when it’s our turn to mine them, and how well our horses do at the gatherings,” Zyan said, studying Karena’s delicate features.
He looked for a sign her question stemmed from discontent rather than merely seeking confirmation of what they’d said earlier, and found no reason to be alarmed. “In a good year, five pairs might leave to claim their third and bring her back to Adjara. In most years, there are only resources enough for one or two pairs to go.”
He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers to blunt the truth he delivered. “Even if women weren’t too valuable to lose, to escort one off the planet and make sure she’s left safely in another world might cost other pairs the chance to add a third and father children. This is a harsh land. For humans as well as horses. Some men never find their match. And mares take quickly but often reabsorb their young before the first swelling of pregnancy.”
Karena’s eyelids snapped upward. “Is it the same for women?”
Zyan shook his head. “No. Loss of a child once conceived is rare, though it often takes longer on Adjara for a woman to get pregnant.”
He couldn’t tell what she thought of his disclosures, but his cock stood erect again, ready to fill her with his seed. So did Kaeden’s.
Zyan reached across Karena, his arm resting on her belly as he took Kaeden in hand. “I think perhaps we should return to our previous activity.” He leaned in, nuzzling Karena’s neck, biting her shoulder. “Play the mare for us. Let us mount you.”
Karena’s channel clenched in violent need at his words. “Yes,” she said, aroused by the image of being on her hands and knees, of them taking her one after another, powerful bodies lifted over hers, thick cocks plunging into her slit, their testicles slapping against her mound as they thrust.
Zyan rose to his feet, offering a hand, but the temptation presented her was far too great to resist. She placed her palms on his thighs and felt the ripple of sleek muscle beneath them, strength enhanced by years of riding.
A smile played over her lips as she remembered the heartfelt prayer she’d made in the changing room. Offered with the hopelessness she’d carried with her for a lifetime. That some divine being might note her small presence in the universe, and hearing her words, act on her entreaty that Arabella find safety and happiness and someone to love and cherish her as she deserved, and that she might find the same.
Karena touched her mouth to the sculpted perfection of Zyan’s penis, loving the way it pulsed beneath her lips, warmed her with its carnal heat. His groan had her breasts swelling, aching for touch again though the nipples were already tender from being suckled and fondled.
“No,” Zyan said, voice husky in denial, his body contradicting his words.
Hands tangled in her hair and held her to him. Hips moved subtly, silently coaxing her to press kisses along his length, to explore him with her tongue. To take him between her lips and pull him into the depths of her mouth as though she’d swallow him whole.
Karena complied, his fantasy the mirror of hers. His desires matched by a need that was only heightened when Kaeden stood and, gripping Zyan’s upper arms, leaned in so lips touched and tongues tangled in sensual embrace.
Their kisses merged, one into another, the heat and sexual energy building as Karena laved and sucked, feeding on the sounds they made, on the taste of Zyan.
With a ragged moan, he jerked away. Escaping her hand and mouth, panting a single word. “Hurry.”
Karena didn’t resist when they tugged her from the pool. She went willingly to her hands and knees, spreading her legs and presenting her swollen vulva to them.
Zyan covered her first, thrusting all the way in. His hand roaming, cupping her breasts. Sweeping over her belly and settling there in heated anticipation of conception before returning to her chest, fingers taking possession of a nipple, tugging on it like phantom lips nursing.
He pressed feverish kisses to her shoulder and neck as he pistoned in and out of her, testicles striking her clit and sending hot shards of pleasure streaking through her. His teeth clamping down on her skin, a stud holding the female he was breeding in place, ensuring deep penetration and the delivery of his seed close to her womb.
Kaeden’s hand tightened on his cock. This time he was the one to say, “Hurry.”
And whether it was command or coincidence, Zyan’s raw moan followed, accompanied by the frantic jerk of hips and then the rigid stillness of a prolonged release.
He yielded his position and Kaeden assumed it. Covering Karena. Thrusting through feminine arousal and Zyan’s semen.
His hands roamed as Zyan’s had. Fondling her breasts. Stroking her flat belly. Dipping lower, finding her clit as he hovered on the edge of desperate climax.
He refused to embarrass himself again. This time he fought orgasm until she cried out and her channel clamped down on him in savage demand. Only then did his seed join Zyan’s deep inside her body, adding to his satisfaction, his contentment, his sense of complete and utter rightness. Their lives together could only become richer now that they had their third.
Shakily he pulled from her heated sheath, grunting at the loss of it. They slid back into the pool, rinsing sand and sweat from their bodies beneath a velvet black sky filled with glittering stars and distant planets.
“What world did you call home?” Zyan asked, head tilted back, looking at the night sky and feeling a soul-deep happiness.
“Qumaar.”
“The prison planet?” He’d heard of it, but no one from their tribe had gone there to claim a woman.
“Not officially, not anymore, though it’s kept a closed world by the ships that guard it in order to prevent anyone from leaving.”
“Then it is truly fate you ended up here, on this day, and so close to where Kaeden and I were.”
Her stomach growled in response and he laughed. Turning toward her, he took her hand and carried it to his chest, holding it against a heart that beat with her name as powerfully as it did with Kaeden’s.
The temptation to remain at the oasis was strong, to lie beneath the night skies and make love in a place of privacy as they became better acquainted. But he and Kaeden hadn’t planned on having their third with them here. They could offer only trail rations, hard bread and dried meat. He wanted more for their first meal together.
He wanted her to know they could provide for her. He
wanted to hand-feed her a variety of succulent fruits, kissing the escaped juices from her lips and skin. He wanted to offer soft bread and fresh meat. And beyond that, he wanted to get back to camp so they could make their union official.
Kaeden took possession of her other hand, carrying it to his heart as well. And as if his thoughts moved along the same lines as Zyan’s did, he said, “We’ve got dried meat and hard bread to dull your hunger as we return to where our tribe is camped. We’ll travel fast and enjoy a feast in our tent. The horses are rested and the desert cooler. Until your arrival, the filly had never known a rider. You can take her, or ride with one of us.”
Karena’s stomach growled again. “I’ll ride her. Does she have a name?”
Kaeden’s awe returned at having a third so gifted with horses. It surpassed, for a moment, the sheer magnificence of the female form and the pleasure he’d experienced with a lover of the opposite sex.
Leaning in, he nibbled on her lips, his tongue darting in to mate with hers before he said, “Not yet. We don’t name our horses until we know their true potential. I think I speak for Zyan when I say you are the one who should name the filly when the time is right.”
“An excellent idea,” Zyan said, standing and offering his hand to Kaeden.
Kaeden took it and was pulled to his feet along with Karena. He bent down, opening the drain at the bottom of the bathing pool so it would empty, and the desert heat of the next day would scour it clean and make it ready for others to fill and enjoy.
Zyan brushed his lips over Karena’s. “Dress while Kaeden and I see to the bedrolls and saddle the horses. We’ll share the trail rations as we ride.”
Neither could look away as she turned and walked toward the spot where she’d shed her clothes as the men of the Syn’jahin watched, and envied the two of them for having reached her first.
Kaeden’s heart swelled with pride. “She is beyond compare,” he murmured, hungrily caressing her with his eyes. Desire returning with the sight of smooth, feminine buttocks yet to be parted by either of them so they could take her as they took each other.
