“Was that a Mississippi?” He lowered his voice. “Do it.”
His hard tone went through me like a hot bolt. Breathlessly, I complied, placing my hands as he instructed. He Velcroed cuffs around my wrists and tied restraints under the table. I imagined the long straps crisscrossed under there. Why my hands?
“I can be distracted with my hands free, you know.”
Another belt. I’d never been tied up so thoroughly. I wiggled a little, just to test.
“No, you must not move.” Odin ran a fingernail down my calf. “It is only this, only sensation.”
I gasped. Only.
I lay there, as still as could be. Nothing moved except for the butterflies in my belly.
“If they do not hurry, I’m going to lose my fucking-ginspiration,” Odin said.
“You never lose your inspiration,” I said.
He kissed my knee. Like that was his answer.
Odin was the group techie and also the group tattoo artist—he’d had practice in an Algerian prison, as it turned out, but oddly, had never himself gotten a tattoo until the one for our gang. It was the one tattoo he knew he’d want to keep until death. “If you move, you will have squiggles instead of proud fucking-g bolts.”
I waited there, cool and vulnerable in my nakedness and filled with a sweet apprehension I’d come to know well in my two short weeks with the gang. Were they making me wait? Did they not understand how unbearably excited I felt?
Zeus sat down on the side of the coffee table next to me. “How does that feel?”
“Like I’m about to be roasted on a spit,” I panted.
“Oh, we have something hotter, Isis.” Zeus trailed a finger through my throbbing sex, paused, and circled around my tender nub. My belly undulated to the sweet feeling. Odin kissed my toe at the same time and then sucked it.
“Oh wow,” I breathed. “The tattooing does feel better now.”
Zeus drew his hand away again. I gasped at the loss. I was right on the verge.
Thor came back into the room and gave me a wicked glance. A smile in just the eyes.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged. He wore his longish blonde hair slicked back, and had scant facial hair; with his lanky, athletic body, he looked like a Swedish tennis player. He leaned down to kiss me, brushing a finger over my nipple, which drew tight at his touch. “You are always so responsive when you’re tied down,” he observed.
I pulled at the cuffs, above and behind my head. The plushy velvet inside them felt warm and soft. Zeus’s hand on my belly felt deliciously heavy. He was such a tease, to rest it there, doing nothing. Actually he was doing something—demonstrating his command over me and himself—he’d touch me when he damn well felt like it.
“I’d think it would be better to not be responsive when you’re getting a tattoo.”
“Unless the pain is balanced,” Thor said.
“With pleasure?” I asked hopefully.
“Well…” Thor looked like he was thinking about that.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Do you trust me, Isis?” Thor asked. “Have I ever endangered or upset you?”
I thought about a certain joyride we’d taken in Kansas City.
“I guess not,” I said.
Zeus chose this moment to move his hand back down between my legs, and I blew out a breath I’d been holding. He rubbed my clit with the flat of his finger. “Oh, yes,” I said.
Odin grabbed my ankle again and blotted my tattoo.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for more tattoo.”
Thor whispered: “That will be the least of your concerns.” The next thing I knew, he was tying a blindfold around my head, covering my eyes.
“Really?” I said. “I can’t even…” But Zeus was stroking my clit in a new way, and I gave myself over to that sensation of his fingers on the wet, vulnerable lips between my legs.
Thor closed his lips over my nipple, sending quivers of pleasure through me.
“Oh my god,” I said. “I for sure won’t be still if I orgasm.”
“Don’t orgasm, then,” Zeus said.
Thor tweaked my nipples between his fingers—at least I think it was Thor. All I knew was that the thrill was nearly unbearable—warm fingers stroking between my legs, cool fingers rubbing my nipples into crazy hardness. But most of all, I was bracing for Odin to start drilling my ankle.
Until I felt the bite on my nipple. “Hey!” Mad sensation radiated through me, filling my head, not letting up. I couldn’t see with the blindfold, but I assumed it was Thor, clutching my nipple in his teeth. The strange pain of it felt exciting—especially combined with Zeus’ highly pleasurable stroking. Sharp and soft, like salt with chocolate. Thor’s teeth at my nipple was the salt, Zeus’s fingers stroking through my sensitive folds was the chocolate.
“Oh, yes,” I said, getting way too into it. I was so into it I barely noticed the stingy needles at my foot. Something cool and light was laid on my chest. Like a little chain.
Then Thor bit my other breast, at the same time. I began to pant.
Wait—that was impossible; it had to be Zeus biting a nipple at the exact same time as Thor…with identical pressure and orientation—while stroking my sex.
“Oh, wow,” I gasped.
All these points of feeling were doing something funny to my body, drowning each other out, like competing music in the electronics aisle at Target. But unlike the cacophony of the electronics aisle, these feelings were a luscious symphony. “Wow,” I panted. “Synchronized biting.”
Zeus chuckled. “Not exactly.”
Thor snorted. “Yeah, not quite.”
I stiffened. How were they talking? It wasn’t their teeth on my nipples. That’s when it came to me. “What? You’re kidding me. Nipple clamps? We never even discussed this.” I pulled at my handcuffs which intensified the feeling in my nipples. I sucked in a breath.
“You were just enjoying it,” Thor said.
“Til I knew what it was,” I panted.
“Go with it,” Zeus commanded.
“You want them off?” Thor asked.
“Um…” I panted.
“They’re not even tight,” Thor said. “And there’s a little chain between them. Can you imagine what happens when I pull on it?” I felt him scoop up the little chain. I trembled with anticipation. “Answer. Can you?” Thor whispered in my ear.
Could I imagine? I sort of didn’t get the question.
I felt a tug. The pleasure sharpened. “Oh,” I gasped.
“Now you don’t have to imagine, Isis. Every time you complain or bellyache, I pull the chain. But harder, got it? Say yes. Say you understand.”
“Harder?” My mind felt melty.
Thor said. “Got it?”
The needley prickling in my foot continued on. I felt almost drugged, flooded with a kind of erotic calm, like I’d moved to the far side of stimulation. The smutty land of the midnight sun.
“You’re not even paying attention.” In a low voice Thor said, “Say yes, Thor.”
“Yes, Thor,” I breathed.
“And, if you move your foot at all, we’ll tighten them. They’re on the lowest setting, but they can go tighter.” Thor’s fingers shoved into the hair above my blindfold, and I felt his warm breath invade my ear. “Feel it, get into it.” Then I felt his fingers on the fleshy underside of my breast, and his warm tongue on my nipple.
As he tongued me, the strange pressure on my nipples seemed to evolve. My mind didn’t know what to do with it. The feeling seemed to radiate outward in sparkly waves from my nipples. I was keenly aware of every belt and scarf holding me down, and every time I breathed, my belly felt full of butterflies. And somehow, strangely, the tattooing felt wonderful, like I wanted it to be harder, to balance the nipple clamps.
I pressed my pelvis upward into Zeus’s hand.
“Hey!” Someone yanked on the chain, tugging my nipples outward.
The yank was a blast of intensity sending he
at down between my legs; it shocked me more than anything. “That wasn’t a complaint,” I protested.
“It was a complaint that Zeus wasn’t going hard enough,” Thor said.
“Movement isn’t a complaint,” I said.
Another yank.
“Ah!”
One of the clips tightened. I felt light, nearly weightless, zoning out on the strange bliss of it all.
The tattoo needle was reaching the part of my foot that had hurt the most before, but the pain wasn’t pain or pleasure, yet it contained both. Like a flower, with pain in the center, and sharp, delicate ecstasy on the ruffley petals.
I felt Zeus’s fingers enter me, two fingers, curling ever so slightly inside me. I wanted to cry tears of joy—I so needed release, so craved it. Out, then in.
I knew I wasn’t moving, yet I felt like I was whirling a million miles an hour into a pit of pleasure as the needles sparkled across my tender ankle. It was all exactly right. I felt something soft and warm on my right nipple—a tongue, just above where the clamp clamped. “Oh, yes,” I gasped.
“You like the new context?” Zeus asked.
“The new context is really great.”
Odin’s voice— “I like it, too.”
Zeus pushed his fingers into me again, rubbing my clit.
“Oh, God, that’s too much context!” I said. “I don’t think I can hold out!”
Nipple tug. Shivers. Gasp. It was a miracle that I didn’t go over the edge right then and there.
“You have to hold out,” Zeus said. “Because once Odin is done, I am going fuck you right on that table.”
I panted even harder as I felt Thor’s warm breath on my ear. Somewhere along the line my bandits had discovered the extreme sensitivity of my ears, a discovery they exploited the hell out of.
I tried to keep from orgasming by concentrating on months, how many days were in each month, and then whose birthdays were in each month. As soon as I hit April, Thor whispered, “I know what you’re doing. And you’ll stop. Give yourself over. Give us everything, Ice, including your attention. We own you right now.”
Heat pulsed through my center.
It was true—they owned me, just as gravity owned me. I would always fall toward these men.
As if I wasn’t close enough to the edge, Thor launched into some blisteringly dirty talk about my total helplessness and various erotic things he had in mind, including dirty alternate uses for the nipple clamps. I could imagine the mischief in his eyes; he’d know he was pushing me over—just the tone of his voice turned me on. I wondered how long I could keep from plunging into an orgasm.
“Stop the talking,” I begged. “I can’t...”
“You will.” He continued on with his dirty talk, but a few moments later, the buzzing and prickling at my foot ceased.
“Done.”
I felt my ankle being blotted. I gasped as somebody unclamped my nipples, and Zeus’s fingers were suddenly gone.
A warm torso covered mine. Make that a massive torso.
Zeus.
“Oh, yeah,” I breathed. The tattoo viewing could wait. “Yes…please!” I writhed underneath the wonderful weight of him. He kissed me, sliding a hand up and down the tender underside of my arm.
Momentarily he lifted off. I heard a zipper. The rip of a foil package. Heavy, rough hands on my thighs. A tongue between my legs. He licked me again and again, torturing me softly. My arousal spiked with every drag of his tongue.
Finally I felt his forearms come down on the table outside my shoulders, caging me, felt his lips close over one exquisitely tingly, puffy-feeling nipple. I gasped as he licked and kissed. With the clamps off, my nipples were like Fourth of July sparklers, going wild with feeling. It was almost too much pleasure.
Key word: almost. I would definitely be moving my initials over to the pro-nipple-clamp column now.
I felt his stomach move against my belly, and I writhed under him to feel more, wishing my wrists weren’t tied, yet quite pleased they were. I loved being helpless.
His hands roved possessively over my deliciously immobilized self. I wasn’t sure if I could last—I might come before he was even inside me. Especially when I realized Odin and Thor were likely watching Zeus take me totally and completely and brutishly.
The idea of a watcher or two—not participating, but just watching—thrilled me like crazy.
Zeus moved one of his arms off the table. I felt a hand at my sex and the sensation of him filling me, pushing into me. I gasped at the glory of it. Zeus drove into me fully, filling me firmly, sending me, and it was all that I needed. He moaned softly with every thrust: uh, uh, uh… a little Zeus signature I’d come to love. I felt lulled by the rhythm of his pleasure, pleasured by his pleasure. It was the uh-uh that sent me over.
“I have to…”
“Come, goddess, come,” he panted, sounding half out his mind. “Take your fill.” He bit my earlobe and thrust into me harder as I shattered apart with a cry, my orgasm lifting me in waves that gave way to larger waves, breaking and crashing over me.
Something scraped my neck—his teeth. I hoped they’d make a mark. I wanted to be claimed and consumed and marked in every way by my bandits. I wanted us to be one, for all of us to be one.
Zeus groaned one last groan, louder and gruffer than the last, and stilled inside me. I felt only the vibration of his cock in me.
“Oh,” he said softly. “Fuck.” He cupped my cheeks with his hands and kissed me, resting still on me. I knew he was half supporting himself, but I loved the feel of the weight he was giving me. I kind of wanted him to crush me. I could never get enough. I couldn’t wait to see my new tattoo.
CHAPTER TWO
“Ice,” Zeus said, pulling off my blindfold. He stayed in me. We watched each other, and something that felt like honesty passed between us. Sometimes, with my bandits, I felt like I was home but also like we were all careening out of control, out in the stratosphere.
Two rips of Velcro later, I was sitting up. Odin threw me a warm, damp washcloth from across the room. I just barely caught it. He threw one to Zeus.
“Hurry up, but don’t look at your tattoo yet,” Odin commanded.
Zeus lifted his green gaze to me. “That was…” He kissed me and drew the warm cloth over my crotch. “Most sating. One of the most freaking sating experiences I’ve ever had.”
“Sating doesn’t exactly cover it,” I said.
“Too true.” He cast the cloth aside and knelt by my feet, undoing the belt and the tie. His fingers seemed to tremble as they grazed the top of the piece of plastic wrap Odin had put on my tattoo to protect it.
He undid the belts and scarves. Then he lifted his gaze to me, and my breath caught at the emotion on his face.
What had struck such emotion into him? It wasn’t like we didn’t have sex constantly. What was different?
Then I realized: it was the tattoo. It meant big things to Zeus, maybe to all three of my guys. Like we were in a gangster marriage or something.
The fluidity with which they moved between tough-guy criminals and lost boys sometimes shocked me, but I kind of liked it. I slid to the edge and pulled him to me, held his head against my stomach. I loved everything about these guys. I needed them in a way I couldn’t describe.
Odin and Thor sat over at the dining table in their hotel robes. Had they been in the hot tub? How long had Zeus and I been fucking?
I ruffled Zeus’s hair, then I grabbed my own robe off the couch. As a gang, we were heavy into wearing the hotel robes. In fact, the plushness of hotel robes seemed to be one of the criteria by which they evaluated fancy hotels. My bank robbers had a kind of overheated lifestyle. They pulled big jobs and then blew all the money on outrageously priced suites in outrageously priced hotels.
Zeus disappeared across the suite into one of the bathrooms that this hotel called a spa. Yes, it was that kind of place.
Thor strolled over with a glass of champagne and offered me an arm. I took it and stood.
“I think I need a health shake or something.”
“Try some 1990 Perrier Jouët.” He handed me the glass.
“I guess it’ll have to do.” I took the glass from Thor and let him guide me to the table, which was laid out with fruits and cheeses, our favorite evening meal.
Odin stood grinning. “I am a genius, you know.” He swigged a glass of scotch.
“We know,” Thor said.
“Especially under those conditions,” he said.
“I was doing great!” I protested.
“Marginal.” Odin shook his head. “For a girl who so longs for the feel of a man’s firm hand on her ass—”
“Stop it!” I laughed. “God!”
“Stop teasing Isis.” Thor draped himself over a chair, one arm over the back, one leg over the armrest. He reached over and grabbed the grapes and held them above his upturned face, feeding himself, looking every inch the decadent god.
“This is excellent gouda,” Odin said. “I believe even the cheesehead farmer would agree.”
I grabbed a slice and tried it. The gouda sparked with flavor. “Pretty good. Almost as good as Sunny Sisters sheep gouda. But not quite.”
Odin smiled. He liked that. He was all about the boasting.
I gazed out the window at the beach. Way down to the left you could see the Santa Monica pier, and beyond it, the impossibly deep blue ocean and the fiery sunset. It made me dizzy to think this was real. I wished my sisters could see it—none of us had ever been out of Wisconsin before.
And I couldn’t go home again. I’d never imagined a scenario where I’d have to stay away forever and even fake the death of the old me to protect my sisters. I said a silent prayer that they understood I was still alive. Surely they suspected it was me purchasing the twenty-thousand dollar comforters our sheep farm sold—the Paris Hilton comforter, we called it. It was a joke product my sisters and I put on the website for our sheep farm, like a lottery ticket. We’d dreamed of Paris Hilton Googling herself one day, finding it, and buying one for herself and her dog. She never did, but it was really coming in handy as a way to get them money. I always included a note with my purchase, coded with inside jokes only they would get. We’d never had money, especially after our parents died, but we’d had jokes and dreams. Many of which involved Paris Hilton rescuing us. But now I was doing the rescuing.
The Wrong Turn Page 2
