“You are safe, Tate.”
She relaxes. “In my fantasy, I skip past all the times I would have resisted him, chosen gruel over contact. He’s absolutely gorgeous.”
Note to self to find out what he looks like.
“I’m craving contact, some kind of stimulation . . . and food.” She laughs heartily and wiggles in my arms. “You know I can’t resist a good meal for long.”
Yes, sex with Gianna had almost always included a hearty bounty.
“So,” I prompt.
“So, one day, I crawl over. On my way, he holds up his hand for me to stop. Points to the shower.”
Only Tate’s mind would need to clear away something like body odor to enjoy her fantasy.
“He watches me while I wash, which I’ve been refusing to do. I know, hard to believe, right?” She laughs again, relaxes further into the story. “When I’ve finished washing, he gets up and hands me a towel. Returns to his chair. Waits. I dry off. Wrap the towel around me. He waits, and so do I, but I know what he wants. So, I slowly walk over until I’m standing beside him. It’s not like it’s a large room. He says nothing, just looks at me with intense eyes and waits. It’s torture, but it will be even worse if I have to go through one more day without some kind of human connection, just like in the book. So, I go over his knee. And he spanks me. It’s hard enough, but it turns me on.”
My senses pick up the rise in Tate’s body temperature, and deep rose wisps of ether leak from her, signaling her excitement.
“Like what happened with Nameless?” The thought of her ass spread across his knee merges with the fantasy playing out in her mind.
“Yes.” Her voice is low and husky. “But I know he’s not really punishing me, not really. That he wants me to spread my legs. That he wants to thrust three fingers up my cunt.”
Not one, not two. Three. Interesting. I file that away.
“And how would another man fit into that fantasy?”
She pauses, but not due to shyness. She’s becoming increasingly comfortable.
“Well, like in the book, I’m moved up to a luxury room where I have everything I could ever want, except freedom, of course. All I have to do is have lots of wild sex with him. And he never talks. Maybe that’s my nod to what assholes most men are.”
That’s our Tate. “And?”
“And, one night, he invites a friend to dinner. And they do unspeakable things to me. And, of course, his friend is able to talk because he talks all kinds of smut to me, which turns me right on. But he’s not crass like most men. He’s, well, he sounds like my Bob. Now that man can make me gush just by asking me to spread my legs. When he whispers in my ear . . . Shit, I’m sorry. That’s so rude.” She turns in my arms.
I unceremoniously push her forward and rise, making the separation as physical as a slap. She mistakes my movement for male ego.
“And for that, I’m going to spank your ass raw.”
Mortification turns to intense interest with a twist of confusion. “For what, exactly? I should know what I’m being punished for.”
“For apologizing for who you are and even thinking of hiding your thoughts of another man from me. And I suspect Robert will agree with me.”
She looks at me with confident amusement as if she has a secret I’m not privy to. “Bob doesn’t like spanking. You won’t catch him taking me over his knee.”
“We’ll see about that.” I head toward the door.
“Are you leaving?”
I almost laugh at the indignation in her voice. As I open the door, I turn and face her, “That I am, mo chridhe. I have all I need to work with.”
I smile inwardly as her stream of cuss words follow me out the door.
12
— Tate —
Holy fuck. And it just might be. There’s no other way to put it. Bob gave the green light . . . Yippee! I’m not even sure why I’m so excited, it’s not as if I’ve spent time fantasizing about having sex with two guys. The idea wasn’t on my radar until I hit Bardo, so it definitely has something to do with being here.
I’m so pumped about this sex scene with Bob and Francis, I’m literally leaking juices. And having trouble concentrating on anything else.
Before I have time to catch my breath and fix the girls, Nameless sidles in as the door closes behind Francis. The smirk on his face tells me he knows just what we’ve been up to.
“Don’t mind me. I’ll be over here minding my own business.” He sits in the chair he vacated earlier and settles the sparkly guitar in his lap, this one a Fender Telecaster.
Those wretched pinkish parts of mine have no chance of calming down in Nameless’s presence, but before they can press me to do anything about it, Dorbhe flits in, notepad in hand.
“Is there anything you’d like to go over before I leave for the night?” Dorbhe asks.
“I’d like your take on each of the staff and what needs to be tackled first.”
“Certainly. Shall we start with your friend?” Dorbhe’s eyes are alight with professional curiosity.
I sit back in my chair and smile at her. “And who would that be?”
“Why, Domina Michele, of course.”
“What makes you think she’s my friend?” I’m curious, not upset. Both Michele and I took care not to reveal my secret to anyone other than my guys. Was one of them leaking information? I shake my head, ashamed for thinking the worse for even a split second.
“You and the gods pay me to know things like that. But my lips are sealed. And I’m happy to report she’s good people. Almost none of the rumors you’ll hear about her are true. She’s a bit of a hard-ass, but then you have to be to run that staff dungeon.”
I burst out laughing. I’m starting to like this little pixie. “That’s probably got her in a nutshell. She told me the staff are talking.”
“Pip and nonsense.” Dorbhe sniffs. “As if your examiners have eyes for anyone but you.” Her wings start doing triple time. “They’ve waited for you all these centuries. It’s so romantic.”
“Goodness me. Where did you hear that?” Dorbhe didn’t strike me as the type to gossip.
She points to the wall of leather-bound books behind me and shrugs. “I love to read, especially about the history of this place. Everyone who’s ever come through here is in there somewhere.
Huh. “Good to know. Let’s finish this. I’m dying to get your take on what I should focus my attention on.”
“That’s easy,” Dorbhe says. “This place needs to be put back on a schedule with policies and procedures that someone enforces.”
I spend the next half hour getting Dorbhe’s rather unique perspective on the academy, and we have a working list of priorities. Dorbhe’s wings go on hyperdrive. She gathers her pen and notepad to her rather impressive bosom and hovers above the desk. “You’d better get out of here before your gentlemen kill me. I hear they have a very special dinner planned for you tonight.”
Heat floods to my face as she winks at me. Does everyone here know we’re about to have a fuckfest? I turn to Nameless, who sits strumming, humming, and grinning.
“And just what are you grinning at?” I grumble.
“You. It’s nice to see a woman eager to get fucked.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I am not eager to get fucked.” I enunciate every word carefully.
The smirk returns. “Do you want me to put you over my knee again?”
Yes, please. I mean, no. Traitor! I need a way to change the topic. Then, inspiration hits. Nameless may be a bit on the abrasive side sometimes, but he seems to embrace kink and also what the staff keep referring to as the lifestyle. I rush over and sit on the edge of the armchair facing his. That pouty little smile deepens.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
He says nothing, just strums silently and waits.
“Will you tell me more about this lifestyle everyone’s talking about? I gather they’re referring to BDSM. Is everyone here kinky? Or does the lifestyle encompass more?” I
try desperately to keep my tone neutral, but something must leak through because I swear he picks up that this is a diversion.
“The lifestyle is the name that swingers on earth gave to how they live. But it encompasses any kind of consensual non-monogamy like partner swaps, bi-play, group sex. Kink is often regarded as a separate thing that includes BDSM, a wide range of fetishes, and more, but there are people in the lifestyle who are kinky and there are people into kink who enjoy group sex. Just think of it as a big bag of treats. Enjoy the ones you like.”
“Oh. Thank you. That’s very informative.”
Nameless lets out one of his rich deep laughs. “You sound like you don’t know if you want to jump in the deep end or run for the hills.” He sets the Fender down and leans forward, muscular thighs encased in tight black jeans. Good thing he was a guy and only had to unzip and let his pecker fall out to pee because it would take some effort to get out of those pants. And that thought leads to me thinking about getting him out of those pants as my eyes drift toward the bulge in his crotch. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I try to look composed. And fail miserably.
“Like what you see.” That rich bass voice drops into the lower register, and my vagina clenches so hard I almost jump. I snap my gaze up to meet his. Another wave of heat flushes through me as I see the humor . . . and raw lust. For me. And I do something I don’t remember doing in my life. I’m intentionally what men call forward. I lean toward him, just a little. “Yes.” One word, that’s it.
He leans forward, too, and rests his fingertips under mine. That’s all, just the tips, and it’s one of the singular most erotic things that has ever happened to me. He lightly brushes the pads of my fingers, studying my hands. “And what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know yet.” My voice is husky, but I answer him honestly. When he takes his hands away, I feel as if he’s ripped the bandage off a cut. “Let me know when you figure it out.” He doesn’t seem upset, just matter of fact. He stands up and picks up his sidekick and slides it around his back before helping me to my feet. “We’d better get to dinner. Bob and Francis will kill me if I upset their plans. I’m sure we’ll be able to answer all of your questions during dinner.”
We walk back to the staff quarters in companionable silence, giving me time to wonder whether Nameless took some kind of nice-pill. The intense wave of jealousy that hits me at the image of his tight, dark ass pistoning between some blond’s legs almost makes my own legs buckle, and I stumble. He gathers me into his arms as he breaks my fall. “You okay?”
His lips are right there, right in front of mine, begging for me to lick them. And I do just that. Then I snatch my tongue back in horror. I can’t even imagine what he must think of me licking him as if I’m a lap dog. But then his tongue darts out, and he mimics my move in slow motion. And it’s so hot I catch myself panting.
“Do you like to dance?”
“I love to dance,” I breathe, not sure the sound comes out.
“I’m working on a new dance routine, and I could use your opinion. Join me after dinner? You’ll have a little time before your plans with Francis and Bob.”
I want to kiss that mouth so badly. Then I feel guilty. I have two guys waiting for me on the other side of the door who plan to give me lots of orgasms tonight, or that’s my plan, at least. And here I am, lusting after a third. I truly am a girl gone wild. I remember Francis is on the other side of the door and can probably read my thoughts. Then, I remember what he said would happen every time I gave in to guilty thoughts. Well, I’m not exactly giving in, am I? I huff at his invisible form.
I know the second we open the door that he did, indeed, know my thoughts. He doesn’t move or make a sound, but I just know. Bob leaps to his feet and tugs my face into a sound kiss before taking my hand and leading me to the table. He’s as pumped about tonight as I am, and I love it when he’s like this. This time, it’s Bob who pulls my chair out and gets me seated. Nameless glides to his seat and sets down his Fender, apparently named Glittergliss because that name is artfully painted in an arc across its body. Caleb practically dances with glee in the chair beside him. I grin at him, his happiness infectious.
“What’s got you so pumped?” Because that’s the best and only word to describe the ether flying around this room, mine included. In fact, everyone, with the exception of Nameless, is brimming with anticipation, and it’s as if a barometric pressure shift has announced an upcoming storm, but only the most sensitive among us gets the message. I can’t read him. Gone is the beautiful smile that lit up his face for most of the day, and I miss it. Then, it hits me. We’d connected over music, nothing more. I was wrong about a connection from last night. It had been me that chose him, not the other way around.
Nameless must feel my eyes on him because he lifts his gaze to mine, and the heat in it slaps me in the face. He does want me. My lust responds like a runaway horse, but I grab the reins. Fucking two guys is one more than I’d ever expected to. I can’t add a third.
My memory travels back to the early days with Bob. How there’d been another guy I’d loved named Nate, or I thought I loved him. Thoughts of our hours of long, slow sex add another ten degrees to the heat between my legs. But the day had come when I realized I had to make a choice. I’d convinced myself that Nate still loved his ex-girlfriend, and I knew that the connection between Bob and me was too strong to walk away from. So, I sent Nate packing. But I loved him, and Bob knew that I loved him. We’d always been honest with each other. I’d been sure I loved Nate until Bob helped me learn that true intimate love could only be between two people. The rest is just sex.
“Earth to Tate. Something’s distressing our Tate when all she should be thinking about is fucking us tonight.” Caleb’s announcement jolts me back to the reality in the room. What? I must not have heard him correctly. I rip my gaze away from Nameless to Caleb.
“What did you just say?” Even I can hear the note of incredulity in my voice.
“I said you’re going to fuck us!” I’m beginning to think that grin of his is a permanent fixture on his face. And, I’m speechless and have the good sense to clap my mouth shut and think for a minute before I say something I might regret. Rage shoots through me. At least, I think it’s rage. Maybe it’s just sheer disappointment. Whatever it is, I have to get the hell out of here. I need time to think. To process how I could have been so wrong about these guys. Agreeing to sex with two men doesn’t mean another guy can just throw his dick in the mix.
Am I gullible? I thought Francis had true feelings for me, that I was his one true love. Now I feel like a sex toy. A new, tasty morsel for them to try. And what the fuck is wrong with Bob? He knows better. He knows I won’t just fuck anyone. That there has to be meaning, true feelings for me. Suddenly, the sexual ether in the room makes me want to vomit. Tears cloud my eyes as I push back my chair and run from the room. How could I have been so wrong?
13
— Francis —
Tate rushes out of the room, and the four of us sit in stunned silence for a second before Nameless rises.
“I’ll go.” With that, he slips out of the room . . . without his guitar. Interesting.
Robert leaps to his feet, but I tug him down. He looks as if he’s about to argue, so I pin him with the stare. He relents and sits but doesn’t settle on his chair.
“She’s my wife. I’ll go.” His mouth has that stubborn set that means there’s little chance of getting through to him. I may have one shot, so I make it worthwhile.
“Are we really back there? I thought we’d grown past petty possession in favor of what Tate needs.” I put a fine edge on my tone.
The barb hits home, and he slowly sits. Best not to let him slip into one of his morose moods.
“Besides, we need to plan our evening, and you know her the best.”
Robert takes the ego stroke for what it is, but his tension releases, and he gives me his boyish grin. “That I do.”
“What was that all about?�
�� Caleb could not look more perplexed if he tried, bless his wee horny heart. “What’d I say?”
“Caleb, this goes beyond putting your foot in your mouth. Tate’s accepting me as a partner in addition to Bob does not mean she has suddenly accepted you, too.”
Caleb actually sags. “But we’re a clan. She’s our Gianna. And she let Nameless spank her. So, I thought—”
I sigh and raise a restraining index finger in Robert’s direction as he sifts through a variety of snide retorts under his breath. He gets the subtle gesture and nods.
“It’s going to take her time, Caleb,” I say. “Tate feels a bond with all of us, but I suspect her memories will need to return for her to accept us all as mates, emotionally and physically.”
“She doesn’t remember?” Caleb actually sags further.
Robert sits forward. “If our memory is back, why hasn’t hers returned? She went into the Fade with you. That brought yours back.”
“You remember?” Caleb looks at Robert in awe.
“You don’t?” Bob asks Caleb.
“No.” If it had been one of us, we would have been pissed or envious in varying degrees, but not Caleb. As long as he could be near us and our beloved Gianna, he was one happy camper.
“Then, why do I remember?” Bob’s brow furrows. “I didn’t go into the Fade.”
Now is not the time to mention Zeus’s nectar. Time for a little subterfuge, just a tiny bit that won’t break our honesty oath. “No, but you did send a tendril of your brand into the Fade to pull Tate and I out. That must have been enough. As for Tate, the rules do not all seem to apply to her here. Something that I find curious and in need of examination.”
Robert looks a bit skeptical but wisely keeps his thoughts to himself.
Caleb nods. “Your ether went into the Fade. That makes sense. So what happens now?”
“Let’s give Nameless some time to help Tate calm down,” I say.
Tate's Task Page 9
