Allister, J. Rose - Immortal Menage [Immortal Paradise 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour)

by J. Rose Allister

  His cock was still hard once he managed to get the soaked trousers off, and it jerked in excitement when he saw Lex Ann had gotten back into the tub and had changed the colors in the room around them. Gone was the burgundy of destiny’s promise. In its place were fuschia and hot pink, the siren call of sex and embracing new possibilities. Candles flared tall and proud, waving and flickering in an exuberant dance.

  “I’ll be waiting for you,” she said, dipping herself in the hot water up to her neck and rising again. “Until then, I need something to remind me why I flew all the way to the Bahamas.”

  She looked at him coyly out from under thick lashes, and he was undone. He plunged into the water and grabbed her, his kiss branding her in a way he’d never claimed any other woman. His tongue sought hers as though they’d been parted for weeks, rather than a mere two days. Her moan shot through him, and he pressed his groin tight against her. Despite knowing they had all night to take pleasure, this would be no slow, deliberate lovemaking. He’d been denied her touch for too long, something he would ensure never happened again if the Fates smiled on his decision to join with her.

  “Grayel,” she said against his lips. Gods, but the sound of his name on her tongue speared lust straight through his body.

  She pulled back and shot him a wicked grin, then did something utterly unexpected. Lex plunged straight down, and before he could react, she had his stiff rod in her mouth underwater. He groaned and cursed the feeling at the same time, knowing he would explode if she persisted long. Not that she could, without the ability to breathe. When he tugged her upright, her red ringlets were gone, slicked dark and straight back off her face by the weight of the water. She smiled at him, and he bent to her throat to tease it with his tongue. She dropped her head back, and he slid down to her full, round breasts. He flicked his tongue back and forth between both red, hard nubs, as though undecided which deserved the most attention. She gasped and rocked on her feet, and without any additional fanfare he circled her waist with one arm, sat down on the bench, and pulled her onto his lap.

  Both of them cried out at the feel of his cock pressing against her entrance while heated jets of water teased them from all directions. With one move, he thrust all the way inside her, shoving her down until her rounded ass hit his thighs and he could feel the tight honeyed coating of her sheath working around him. She bounced up and down on his cock, her breasts shaking deliciously as he watched her gyrations. He bent his head down and claimed a nipple with his mouth, sucking loudly while she rode him hard. The weight of the water slowed her motions a bit, extending the torment until he was forced to take hold of her hips and help shove himself deep inside her.

  Steam and heat and bubbles stroked every nerve ending, and soon he felt a surge of power preparing to shoot up his shaft. His balls tightened, and he pulled her mouth to his with one hand while gripping her ass with the other. He cried out her name when his climax crested, his seed shooting from him even harder when she shouted his in return. His cock was still spasming when he rose up and flipped them around so that her elbows balanced her over the edge of the Jacuzzi while he pumped into her. Her breasts jerked up and down almost violently now, and their cries came faster and more desperate. The second climax sent spikes of pleasure all the way to his toes, and speckles of black dotted the edges of his vision. By the gods, just in a dream bond, the heat of the water and his woman’s fevered loving nearly made him pass out.

  One of the many fun, if not disorienting things about a dream bond was sudden venue changes, and as they clutched each other in the aftermath, Grayel suddenly found them on a large velvet chaise behind the hot tub. Lex Ann was curled up against him with her still-damp head nestled on his chest. He watched the myriad candles around them dance in a lazy, unified rhythm while he stroked a thumb along her arm.

  “Will it always be like this?” she said in a soft whisper.

  He smiled, still stroking her silken skin. “Forever.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then she pushed herself up on one arm and looked at him. “Will it hurt?” Her eyes held a hint of wild panic. “The change, I mean.”

  He shook his head.

  “But I’ll feel something, no doubt. Will I look different? Will I still feel human afterward? Will I have powers?”

  He grinned at her wide eyes and breathless tone. His explanation and reassurance, however, refused to translate in the dream bond. Instead, the room brightened, a spotlight falling on Lex Ann. She gasped when the two of them were suddenly floating several feet in the air.

  “I’ll be able to fly?”

  “No,” he managed. “Dream communication.” Flying in a dream simply indicated heightened personal power.

  “Oh.” Disappointment rang in her tone. “Right. I guess tomorrow will be a better time to talk.” She spun around in the air and giggled. “Still, this is fun. I always loved flying dreams when I was a kid.”

  He nodded, grinning at the pure joy in her smile.

  She shot him a skeptical look. “Gods have those, too?”

  In response he turned a full somersault, then propelled himself forward and pulled his naked nymph into his arms. She squealed, a sound he promptly silenced by clamping his lips over hers. Making love in midair was a feat not even he could boast, and he was definitely intrigued enough to give it a try.

  Then they were lying on a plush, decadent bed, and he sighed. Dream venue shifts were not always convenient.

  “I do have a question I hope you can answer here.”

  The seriousness in her tone froze the hand ready to explore the impossible fullness of her breasts. He nodded.

  She sat up on the bed. “For the ritual, I will be with another man while you are also with him.” She glanced down, scratching at a freckle that dotted her inner thigh most provocatively. “Is that something that will be expected in our relationship?” She looked up through thick lashes. “Will you be taking other lovers, and wanting me to do the same?”

  He had her on her back beneath him in an instant, pressing her hands into the pillow over her head. “You are mine.” He kissed her roughly to make his point, not trusting words to come clear enough to make it for him. “Understand?”

  She nodded and smiled, running her hands into his hair. He grunted and claimed her lips again, wishing the ritual were over and this was reality rather than fantasy. Still, as he rained kisses on her with utter possession, he realized he should not make her feel reluctant to enjoy the ritual. Only her full satisfaction the moment the men achieved orgasm would allow her body’s energy to spark the transformation his immortal essence would provide.

  He rose up and gazed into her eyes. “If we were ever to share passion with another, it would be together and by mutual consent. You are free to bond with the proxy in our ritual, however. You should be totally comfortable during the Fere-Theo, and enjoy your demigod lover without restraint. This is of utmost importance, and I grant it to you freely.” Then he growled a warning deep in his throat. “However, that bonding does not include foreplay before the ritual. Tell Love there are to be no practice sessions before I arrive.”

  When he stopped her eyes were wide, and she stared at him in openmouthed shock.

  He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  She burst out laughing. “That’s by far the most you’ve ever been able to say to me.”

  Grayel realized she was right and flashed a grin. “Guess even the dream world won’t cross me on that message.”

  They lay entwined in each other’s dream arms, and after a short time she whispered to him. “Seven o’clock is too long to wait.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tell me you’ll be there, Grayel. Promise.”

  The near desperation in her tone sat him up, covers pooling around his naked waist. “You doubt me?”

  She averted her eyes. “When you stopped coming to my dreams, and you weren’t at the fountain…” She sighed. “I thought I was crazy. I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t come. I’d rather t
ake another swim with the sharks.”

  “Nothing will stop me.” He gathered her to him and stroked her sultry red waves. “Seven o’clock. I swear it.”

  Chapter Nine

  A whole new day dawned for Alexandra Ann Porter. She stretched, languid as a cat in her fit-for-a-god surroundings. The bed was sheer, unbelievable bliss. This had to have been shipped in from some heavenly dimension, for no mattress on earth was this plush. It supported every inch of her like a cloud.

  She crawled out somewhat reluctantly, making her way to the bathroom for freshening and repairs. She took extra care with her makeup, even though it was still early and would have to be reapplied before Grayel’s arrival. Not one, but two coats of kohl eyeliner ringed her lids, bringing out her eyes to an almost startling blue. She let her hair hang free after her shower, regretting the fact that this room didn’t come equipped with a blow-dryer. Apparently, gods didn’t have bad hair days. With her curly masses of burgundy tangles, Lexie would likely become the first immortal to change that.

  She meant to bypass the closet, but couldn’t help pushing open the giant mirror to survey the beautiful gowns inside. There was a long shimmer of emerald green that matched Grayel’s eyes, and she reached for it. Then she realized she had no idea whether regular room service delivered to an immortal’s suite, or whether she’d have to soothe her rumbling tummy at one of the restaurants. The glittering fabrics in the closet were absurd overkill for breakfast on the beach. With a sigh, she closed the door and found her bag.

  Once she’d pulled on a simple turquoise sundress and white sandals, she shuffled into the great room. It was as bright and oversized as she remembered. On the far side of the room, billowy curtains of white fabric fluttered between the columns dividing the suite from the veranda—and the portal through which Grayel would step in a mere matter of hours. Her heart fluttered at the sight of it.

  She’d hoped Love would be in the sitting area, so he could answer her room service question. Instead, Lust reclined in the overstuffed chair he seemed to prefer, though this time he wasn’t draped quite so seductively over it. He was actually reading something similar to a newspaper while wearing tortoise-rimmed glasses.

  She didn’t even try to hide an eruption of laughter. When he peered over the rims at her quizzically, she laughed even harder.

  “Are you always this ridiculously cheerful in the morning?” he asked.

  “Shouldn’t gods have perfect vision?” She strolled up and took a seat on the couch across from him, flicking another glance his way. Despite her tease, she had to admit he looked even more seductive wearing them. Damn him. “I wouldn’t have pictured you sitting around with the morning paper, especially not with reading glasses.”

  He peeled them off and used them to point at her. “These aren’t for magnification, Sexy Lexie. They’re translation lenses.”

  She shot him a stink look for the nickname, but curiosity won out. “Translation?”

  “Thirty thousand languages.” He held them out to her. “Here, try it.”

  She took the specs and the paper he offered. The paper wasn’t newsprint, nor was the ink like any she’d seen. This ink was thick and blood red, and the paper was almost like linen. Odd symbols were drawn on the pages, all of which seemed jumbled with no rhyme or reason.

  She slid the glasses on. When Lust sucked in a dramatic breath, she mimicked his action of peering over the rims.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Most fetching. I do get hard for the hot librarian look.”

  She crossed her eyes and made a silly face.

  “Never mind,” he said. “I don’t get hard for that.”

  “Please. You get hard for everything.”

  She peered at the page and was shocked to find words there now, plain to see. Intrigued, she experimented by pushing the glasses up and down a few times, watching the translation wink in and out. Then she settled in to read what was printed, and after the first line felt her face flush hot.

  She pulled off the glasses and handed it all back. “What the hell is it, The Daily Erection?”

  His laugh smoldered. “It is an ancient text from a culture entirely devoted to sexual pleasure.”

  “That doesn’t sound much different from earth culture. Ever pop open a People magazine?”

  He snorted. “Not even close. Humans can’t even touch the bottom rung of the erotic understanding that is part of the Cerunnon culture.”

  “Who are they? The Sir-oonan?”

  “Corrupting our guest again, Lust?”

  She whipped her head around and felt her mouth fall open. Love stood behind her with nothing but two towels, one wrapped low around his hips. He was using the other to dry his hair. She congratulated herself for shifting her eyes away before checking out the bulge in his towel—for the most part.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Lust was just showing me his translation glasses.”

  Love grunted, his grin catching rays of warmth in her chest. “Just be careful what he tries to translate for you.”

  “Sorry I don’t sit around reading Tolstoy or Mignanna,” the other god said. “I like my literature with a bit more zest.”

  Lexie shrugged. “Mignanna?”

  “Not an author you’d recognize,” he said. “She hails from an outer realm. And a drier tome you will never encounter. I’m surprised it didn’t explode into dust atoms the moment it was set to print.”

  “It is enlightened,” Love said. “Inspired prose.”

  She lifted a brow. “I guess I should have figured you for a reader. Poems?”

  “I’ve written some, and appreciate the form,” he answered, draping the second towel around his neck and running a hand through still-moist locks. Somehow, even when outright damp, his hair didn’t appear any darker than its normal flaxen gold sheen. “But poetry isn’t a top choice when the reading mood strikes.”

  She wondered about that. What did a god named Love read? Jane Austen? The secret diary of Aphrodite? Action-adventure?

  He seemed to read her thoughts and smiled. “Someday, when you’re able to travel the portal realms, I’ll show you my private library.”

  “I’d like that.”

  His muscles really did interesting things when he was drying off after a shower. Since her intended had encouraged her to bond with the man who would be their lover before the day was out, she decided not to have any qualms about noticing it. She boldly let her eyes slide over him, taking in every inch of rippled muscle. One magical quality about both the males in this room was the way their skin gleamed like it was wet or coated with oil, just like Grayel’s did in her dreams. Would she look that well-lubricated after her change? Beyond that, Love’s forearms were sinewy and firm, and his biceps and shoulders were packed with just enough carved muscle to make a woman drool. His chest was firm and muscular, but his abs were a thing of legend. Men on earth killed themselves for the eight-pack gracing his form. The towel below his waist could not hide the appreciable maleness beneath, and his legs were sleek and toned. Love’s name may sound like he possessed an effeminate nature, but this god was far from it. His body was one giant, undeniable Y chromosome, a body that no doubt could wield great power if he were challenged.

  When she completed her tour of the evening’s coming attraction, she found herself looking back up into smoldering blue orbs. She caught her breath, realizing he’d been watching her appraisal. Her boldness disintegrated, and she looked away in a hurry.

  The god seated across from her growled. “Well, we do have our hands full with you, don’t we?” She glanced up to find Lust’s gaze also fired by an I-saw-what-you-were-doing glow. “I’m looking forward to seeing how well you translate the ways of the Cerunnon during tonight’s ritual.”

  She snorted. “Too bad. You aren’t part of the ritual, and I’m not selling tickets.”

  His grin shot holes in her theory. “I may not be the middle man in the ritual. But I am most definitely a part of it.”

  “What are you talk
ing about?”

  “Lust will be present,” Love said, his hands lazily clutching the ends of the towel hanging around his neck. “To bear witness as required for the Fere-Theo.”

  “What?” She jumped up from the couch, her hands fisting her hips. “This isn’t a spectator sport. I’m nervous enough about performing with two men—two gods, no less. Gee, no pressure there. Now you’re telling me I have to do this with him running an audience commentary? Forget it.”

  “A bystander not directly involved in the act must bear witness,” Love said. His expression was masked, and she couldn’t quite fathom the emotion in his eyes. “Otherwise your transcendence and union will not be recognized by our people.”

  “Not recognized? But once I’m immortal, won’t I glow or float around or something? Or we could try to poke me with a sword to prove the change.” She grinned and shifted her gaze between them. “Yeah. I’d rather be run through with a sword to prove my immortality than have lookie-loo’s baring anything.”

  “Bearing witness,” Lust said, his expression undaunted by her obvious reproach. “And while I’d love to plunge my sword deep inside you,” his smoky tone left no doubt as to which sword he was referring, “this is the way things are done. The traditions of gods are not like your own, and cannot be bargained with.”

  “I’m afraid he’s right,” Love said. “He has to witness your full consent beforehand, the proper conduction of the ritual, and your elevation afterward. Otherwise, although you will be immortal in body, your goddess status will not be officially recognized. As this is also considered a marriage ritual, it is beholden to tradition much the same way a mortal’s marriage must be witnessed in order to be declared binding. If you do not comply, it won’t only be your status that will be dishonored, but also your mate-bond with Grayel.”

  “Living as a god who is not purebred is a challenging annoyance under the best of circumstances,” Lust added, dropping his glasses and papers on the table beside him. “Take it from me. Attempting to merge into our fold without even observing proper custom would be disastrous. For both of you.”