Gemini Heat

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘You’re such a hot creature,’ he gasped, his finger stabbing deftly at her clitoris. ‘So wild and hot and wet …’ She felt his hand clamp her firmly by the hip, holding her steady so he could rub and pinch and pound her.

  Deana shrieked. Her pleasure was pain, and her pain was pleasure; and the two of them were surging like a dark, sweet syrup that roiled and bubbled in her belly. Beside herself, and babbling nonsense, she tore blindly at her thin, soft skirt – ripping it to strips in her need to grab her own seared flesh. Virtually sitting on her own trapped hands, she mortified her hot, aching rump in time to the waves of her climax.

  She felt every part of herself in motion, her whole self balanced between Jake’s pinching finger and thumb. He was controlling her utterly, pulling on a cord that stretched tight between her crotch and her soul …

  ‘No! No! No!’ she howled, her legs flailing crazily despite his sure hold on her hip. Unable to stop herself, she wrenched at the cheeks of her bottom, reaching for a brand new kind of orgasm that bloomed in the heart of the first one. Her love-juice flowed out like a river.

  ‘Give it up. Give it up. Give it up …’ He coaxed, still jiggling, still teasing.

  But at last, after a blank-white millennium of pleasure that bordered on madness, there was no more to give. Limp and half-senseless, Deana fell back against the chair, panting. She could barely think, but she could feel Jake’s gentle hands moving: first on her brow, smoothing her hair, then on her loins and thighs, rearranging the ruins of her skirt.

  ‘I suppose all that was to distract my attention?’ she said eventually, her voice faint. ‘To do my head in so I’d say “yes” and agree to be your sex slave, or whatever …’

  Her eyes were shut, her eyelids too heavy to lift, but she felt Jake stand up and move away.

  ‘No, that wasn’t my tactic,’ he said, returning and putting a glass in her hand. A glass that was cool and frosty. ‘But if it’s worked, I’m pleased.’

  ‘No, it hasn’t!’ she shot back at him as the sharp gin brought back her wits. She opened her eyes, and discovered him watching her closely. He was cross-legged on the carpet several yards away, sipping his own drink, his penis still stiffly erect.

  ‘This is the twentieth century, Jake, and we live in a supposedly civilised society. You can’t just hijack women like some Arabian sheik with a harem.’

  ‘But I’m not coercing you, Deana,’ he answered reasonably, his blue eyes steady and calm. ‘I’m asking. Asking the two of you to share my life for a while. For the purposes of companionship and sex.’

  ‘I give up!’ cried Deana exasperatedly, taking another long pull at her drink. When the glass was empty, she rose awkwardly, crossed the room and got a top up. She was going to end up drunk at this rate, but what the hell, this situation was surreal already …

  ‘You talk about us sharing your “life”,’ she began again, her glass refreshed. ‘But what about our lives? I know I’m a bit of a no-hoper. Mainly because I’m too lazy. But Delia has a top job! In your bloody company! I can’t see her living the life of an odalisque. Lying around twiddling her thumbs all day and waiting for you to feel randy!’

  ‘Fair enough,’ he answered, ‘but it wouldn’t be purely sex. There’d be career opportunities for Delia, in my Swiss operation. A chance to wield real power, not just organising a bunch of secretaries and keeping an office in paper clips.’

  ‘She does more than that!’ protested Deana, who knew nothing of Delia’s day to day work at all.

  ‘I know,’ he said with a shrug, ‘but I still think she’s capable of more.’ His eyes met hers levelly. ‘So are you, Deana my love. In a secluded environment you could really apply yourself. It may surprise you to know, but I’ve seen your work and I know that at the moment, you’re wasted. I’d like to take you to Geneva and nurture you. Hold exhibitions for you. Bring you to the attention of discerning connoisseurs.’

  ‘What … As an artist or a sex-pot?’

  He grinned again. That strange, little boy smirk. ‘Either can be arranged, but primarily I was thinking of art.’

  ‘Why us?’ she asked, changing tack.

  An interesting phenomenon was taking place, one that Deana found both curious and thrilling. The more spirit and defiance she showed, the harder and hotter Jake’s prick looked. ‘There’s nothing particularly special about Delia and I apart from the fact we’re twins. You could have any woman you wanted from anywhere on earth. What the devil do you want us for?’ She paused, drew breath. ‘And you needn’t think we’ll do lookalike three-in-a-bed either! It’s not on! Delia would hate it and so would I.’

  ‘I’d be happy with just one of you,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re both luscious, brilliant women in your own right. I want either of you or both, and I’m prepared to give you just about anything if I can have you. What’s the problem?’

  There was a tiny edge of vexation in his voice now – the sound of the mighty Jackson de Guile being thwarted, and feeling confused by it. Helpless, almost. Deana’s excitement spiralled exponentially, especially when she noted the condition of his cock. He looked almost on the point of exploding …

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ she went on, sipping her drink more airily now, and licking stray droplets from her lips. It was an old, old ploy, but she’d never known it fail. She almost laughed out loud as Jake’s hot gaze locked in on her mouth. ‘If you want someone to live in and play kinky games, why on earth don’t you ask Vida? She’s an expert. You wouldn’t even have to train her.’

  Jake laughed, and though the slight tension eased, his erection stayed proud as ever. ‘I love Vida dearly,’ he said. ‘In fact anybody would, once they get to know her. But unfortunately, she’s impossible to live with. We tried it once and we nearly killed each other.’

  ‘Oh, so Delia and I are just your second choices!’

  ‘Deana! Enough!’ Jake’s glass tipped over on the priceless carpet as he sprang to his feet, his eyes like fizzing blue coals and his cock swinging out like a club. ‘Do you want to come to Geneva or not?’

  ‘I don’t know … I might do. I need time to decide.’

  ‘All right! Now I give in!’ he growled, his whole body a coiled sexual spring as he strode towards her. ‘But if I give you as much time as you need, will you give me something now?’

  ‘Yes, that’s all right,’ she said slowly, knowing. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Relief for this, you witch!’ he cried, hefting his heavy penis in his fingers and almost pushing it into her face.

  ‘Of course,’ she whispered.

  Slowly and precisely, she placed her glass on the floor, then leaned forward ever so slightly and took his long silky cock between her lips …

  13

  The Gemini Choice

  After a weekend of virtual seclusion, Delia still hadn’t made a decision.

  It would have been easier to choose, she reflected, if Jake had been around all the time. His physical presence and beauty would have warped her judgement and dissolved her old-fashioned sense of duty. It would’ve made her say a quick, simple ‘yes’.

  But since that morning at his house, they’d seen nothing of him. He’d left them alone for a few days – to give them ‘space’, he’d said. It should have been an act of consideration, but for Delia, it only made things harder.

  Deana had already made her choice. Made it instantly, she’d informed Delia dreamily. She was going to Geneva, come what may, but she wouldn’t tell Jake until Delia had made her mind up too.

  Delia envied her sister her decisiveness. How simple it must be, to know what you wanted with no second thoughts. To be positive and daring. Or maybe just a little bit crazy.

  ‘I’m going, Delia,’ Deana had said as soon as they’d had a chance to discuss it. ‘I’ve got to, whether you are or not. He’s dangerous, he’s arrogant and he’s manipulative … but he’s done something to me. And more than just sexually. He’s made me feel full of energy … excited. I can’t really explain it.
And I can’t rest until I know if there’s more.’

  ‘Are you really sure, love?’ Delia had asked, knowing it was an empty question. Deana had never back-tracked in her life, even if she knew without doubt she was wrong.

  ‘Completely. But I won’t tell him until you’ve decided too.’

  There had been a few tears then, and a few sisterly hugs, but in moments Deana had been laughing off her doubts. ‘And anyway, I’d be mad to turn down free board and lodgings in the lap of luxury, wouldn’t I?’ she’d said, with a grin. ‘Even you charge me rent!’

  ‘Which you don’t pay all that often,’ Delia had teased. At that moment, she’d been right on the point of saying, ‘Yes, to hell with it, I’m coming too!’ But she hadn’t. Her cool sharp brain had murmured, ‘Wait!’… and now she was still trying to make her decision.

  It had been pointless coming in to the office today, she observed, looking listlessly out of the window. She couldn’t manage her work choices either, and everyone seemed to be watching her curiously. As if they knew something.

  Closing all her files and then throwing them back into her ‘pending’ tray, she felt relieved as she finally decided something. She’d take the rest of the day off! Her ‘boss’ could hardly sack her now, could he? Given the circumstances.

  Back at the flat, she stripped off her clothes, and slid on the grey cotton robe she’d somehow managed to bring home from Jake’s with her. Faint, evocative odours rose up from the fabric, and as she lay down on the settee, a drink at her side, she breathed in deeply and remembered …

  Jake in the Jacuzzi and afterwards. Then later, Vida and Elf. That had been unexpected, but extraordinarily beautiful. She shuddered wildly, recalling how dressing – in their company – had been as sensual as taking clothes off. She thought of Vida’s long white fingers, how bold they were, and how impossible to resist or gainsay. And that was yet another complication …

  ‘I’ll be glad when this is all sorted, and I don’t have to drink so much,’ she muttered, taking a sip of her wine. She’d felt like hitting the gin, but it seemed too early. Especially on an empty stomach. Swirling the pale golden fluid in the glass, she considered her dilemma yet again.

  The trouble was that she liked her life as it was. Now Russell was out of the picture, there were friends she wanted to be with, things she wanted to do and try … Being whisked off to Geneva for a life of unremitting sex was a seductive idea, and if she’d been with Jake right now, and he’d asked her again, she would’ve said ‘yes’… But he wasn’t and she could see other options.

  Jake was the most physically beautiful man she’d ever met. He was supernaturally potent, and almost mesmerically desirable when he even just looked at her. He was also, in his own bizarre way, quite kind. He was offering her a glut of pleasure and even a career advancement. But it just wasn’t everything she needed. Perplexed, she took a sip of her drink, rolled back onto the settee, and stared at the blank, white ceiling.

  Stared upwards and thought of a quiet night in with a friend …

  Peter.

  And there was another sound reason for refusing Jake. Deana had no ‘relationship’ ties here at home, but she, Delia, had Peter. A gorgeous and talented lover who lived in a shy man’s skin. A slow, careful, artistic lover with clever fingers and a long, thick penis. A lover who would be at home now, working on his networked computer …

  After pausing only to tie the sash of her robe, Delia made her way out through the back door and up the outside stairway that led up to the flat above.

  ‘I … I was going to come down,’ Peter said nervously as he let her in. His brown eyes were wide behind his glasses, goggling at her thinly clad body. ‘I saw you come in. I thought you might be ill.’

  He cared so much. How lovely. How lovely and unaccountably arousing.

  ‘I’ve never felt better,’ she said, advancing confidently and forcing Peter to step backwards in her wake. She’d taken the initiative last time, and the result had been fabulous. She could so easily do it again. ‘You’re not busy, are you?’ Her question sounded brisk and purposeful, and she was thrilled by the feeling of power.

  She eyed his casual shorts and T-shirt. Computing at home, he didn’t have to dress up, so he probably had been working … Tough!

  ‘Er … No, not really,’ he answered, more excited, she sensed, than nervous.

  ‘Good!’

  Delia felt calm, but intensely aroused. In control of everything but her physical responses. A pink blush was washing through her face and throat, her nipples were puckered, and her sex was a pool of warm fluid.

  ‘Good!’ she repeated, flipping open her robe, then pressing the full length of her body against him. He gasped with surprise, but before he could protest, she’d pulled his soft mouth onto hers, and thrust into its depths with her tongue. Where his bare thighs were pressed along hers, he was shaking.

  He was scared of her, she realised exultantly. In awe, but still desperately randy. His denim shorts rasped at her tender belly, but the discomfort was piquant. She pressed her moist flossy pubis against him, searching for his hardness; for the bulge behind his zip where his erection jutted out to greet her. He moaned, and she smiled against his mouth, grinding at his body with her hips and loving the way his penis lurched wildly in response.

  ‘But Delia!’ he protested when she freed his mouth.

  ‘But nothing!’ She dismissed his qualms by removing his spectacles and putting them aside. When she tugged his T-shirt off over his head, his face was an absolute picture. Lust and befuddlement fought a battle across its smooth pale planes. He’d been attacked by a bold sexual alien who’d snatched the body of his sensible neighbour, and he moved forward short sightedly to get a better perspective on her body. As he reached for her, she blocked him and brushed away his hands …

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded, the beginnings of understanding in his warm, slightly unfocused eyes.

  ‘Silence,’ she said softly. ‘Stay quiet and take your shorts and underpants off.’

  He obeyed her clumsily, blushing when his penis flicked up against his belly.

  Delia hid her smile of glee, loving what she saw but trying to maintain her cool aura. Peter really did have the most beautiful cock. A red-tipped, suckable lollipop of a cock … Knowing exactly what she wanted, she slid to her knees, pressed her breasts against his thighs and nuzzled her hungry face into his crotch. With his penis waving against her cheek, she licked the sweaty crease of his groin, then dove in deeper, pushing aside his shaft with her fingers so she could get to his testicles and suck them.

  As she played with first one, then the other with her tongue and teeth, he whimpered. And then, when she enclosed both balls at once, and mock-bit him, he cried out piteously and his knees shook and swayed. Mouthing the wrinkled bag and the twin firm ovals within it, she savoured his rich gamey taste. He was a cleanly man, but it was some time since he’d showered and the day was hot. His skin was spicy with a strong, genital sweat and just the slightest hint of seminal musk – as if he’d come recently and not had a chance to wash.

  Did you masturbate for me? thought Delia, worrying his balls with her lips as her saliva flowed freely around them. She could sense his prick getting more and more urgent. It was pressed against her face now, sticky and twitching, as hard as a shiny wooden bar. She wanted to suck it and taste it, but she also wanted to prolong the agony. Spin things out a bit. Enjoy herself with his body, his sex and his psyche; and use the lessons she’d so recently learned.

  ‘Please … My cock,’ he moaned as she stroked her fingertips around his buttocks and down against the inslope of his thighs. She was still lightly chewing on his testicles, but avoiding any contact with his cock.

  Using an erotic awareness she’d never realised she possessed, Delia dragged her nails along his bottom crease. Slowly and lingeringly, she scratched at his perineum and anus, balancing his pleasure against his fear of her teeth. He was gasping hoarsely now, his chest heaving like a b
ellows.

  As his balls tightened ominously, Delia drew back without haste and studied her living creation. A man in desperate need of a climax. Peter, who stood before her with his feet braced, his knees slightly bent, and his hands clenched into fists at his side – white-knuckled with need and frustration. His eyes were tightly shut and there was moisture on his finely drawn face: beads of sweat on his lip and brow, and what just might be tears on his cheeks.

  ‘Please,’ he begged, through clenched teeth.

  ‘Lie down on the floor,’ she said, trying for a note of sternness, but sounding more excited than cruel. As he complied, she slid out of her robe and flung it aside, admiring his cock as it stood up vertically from his loins, its tip weeping clear fluid freely. She felt her pussy ripple crazily in readiness, as if calling to his beautiful intruder.

  But instead of having mercy on the abject man before her, she switched her tactics and squatted gracefully down onto his face.

  The view from where she crouched was memorable. A flat, brown-furred belly, long, slim, steel-tense thighs, the red swaying tower of his cock.

  ‘Lick,’ Delia Ferraro ordered quietly, ‘lick everywhere and don’t slack!’

  A long while later, she rose from the rug, her body glowing and sated.

  ‘I’ve got to make some phone calls,’ she whispered to the stupefied man she’d just mastered. ‘But I’ll be back in a little while … You can fix me a drink when you recover.’

  Smiling wistfully, Delia reached for the phone and dialled her sister’s agency. She was missing Deana already, but she knew her decision was the right one.

  I suppose it’s better this way, thought Deana, pacing up and down the pavement outside the agency she no longer worked for.

  This way there’d be no time for tears and protracted heartwrenching farewells, and no chance to question her decision or tell herself she was a fool.