Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  “Beg him, Gen.”

  “Please, Noah. Please fuck me.”

  He parted her buttocks, played with her rim, then his thumbs dipped into that vat of wetness between her legs. “Please…” She moaned as he rubbed. She knew he was hard as a rock. Knew he was tormenting her further, getting off on it. She gripped Lyda’s ankle, trying not to cut off circulation.

  Noah straightened, shifting his grip to her hair. His fingers tightened into a scalp-pulling hold as he slowly, slowly brought her head up until she was staring into Lyda’s intent expression. She had that faintly cruel, queen-on-her-throne look, feeding off Gen’s denial, her frustrated arousal, like a drug available only to royalty.

  “She’s dying for your cock, Noah. Do it.”

  Gen screamed as Noah shoved into her all at once, a hard thrust that stretched her unused tissues. It hurt but it felt so, so good. He kept the hold on her hair, forcing her to stare into Lyda’s face, so their Mistress could see every expression as he let loose just as she’d given him permission to do. He fucked Gen like a man who’d been nursing a hard-on for weeks, dreaming about the women who were within arm’s reach but inaccessible. He fucked her in a way that said it went beyond that, that the need and cravings building all these weeks had as much to do with confirming they were alive, connected, together, still part of him, as anything else.

  Similar emotions unfolded in her as he kept going, became even more savage, perhaps fighting the demons inside him that said he wasn’t allowed to feel that way. It was as if he was trying to fuck them into silence. When he let go of her hair and covered her, wrapping his arm around her chest, forcing her back down to her elbows as if they were both genuflecting to Lyda while he hammered Gen’s cunt before her, Gen kept one hand on Lyda’s ankle but gripped his forearm, digging in her nails.

  “I’m here…we’re here…” It was like the Mine, ours, wasn’t it? The same message. Her clit was throbbing, and each time his testicles slapped against it, she thrummed with the intensity. She wanted to come. Wanted to come for him, for Lyda. Yet…

  “Help…Noah, please…”

  “God, yes,” he muttered.

  It wasn’t a surprise to her that he understood, even with the two of them shaking, so close to that edge. When he pulled back out, she even made a heartfelt whimper that was echoed by a violent clench in her pussy. She was so close to climax.

  Noah rose on his knees behind her. Gen could only imagine the delicious picture he made, cock stiff, glistening with her juices. His hand slid from her hair, up the slope of her back, to rest on her hip. “We want to give our Mistress pleasure first,” he said.

  Gen lifted her head to see Lyda lick her lips, gaze shifting between the two of them. “What if that’s not what I want? You think I’ll let my cunt run the show any more than I’ll let the two of you run it?”

  “No Mistress.” Noah shook his head. “We just… It needs to be…all of us. Together.”

  “Together,” Gen whispered, pressing her lips against Lyda’s ankle.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lyda bent forward, touching Gen’s back. Gen thought she also reached out, grazed Noah’s face, or perhaps the slope of his chest, rising and falling with his exertions, the sexual fervor driving him.

  “All right,” their Mistress said. “But you two better not think this is going to become a habit. Tuck yourself back into those slacks and take Gen to my bed, Noah. On her back. Make her comfortable, because we’re going to use her hard.”

  Gen straightened at that delicious threat, crooking her arm around Noah’s neck as he scooped her off the floor. She could have walked, but now that they’d gained Lyda’s acquiescence, they wanted to follow everything she demanded. He laid her on the bed, stepped back, those intent eyes resting on her as they waited on their Mistress, making her way down the hall. When she came into the bedroom, she moved to the edge of the bed. Just like Noah, she lingered on Gen’s breasts and hips, her sex, all enhanced by the waist cincher. Gen felt like a visual feast, the two of them devouring her.

  “I may make you walk around in one of those all the time,” Lyda observed. “I don’t think Noah would object. But I’d have to keep his cock in a chastity cage to teach him to deal with it without a perpetual hard-on. Can’t have his brains in his cock all the time.”

  “I’m not seeing the downside,” Gen responded breathlessly, her gaze sliding down Noah to the sizeable object of the discussion, straining beneath the slacks.

  “Hmm.” Lyda pivoted toward Noah. “I want my corset off.”

  Noah helped Lyda slide off the bolero jacket, then unhooked the corset. Since Lyda’s back was to Gen, she saw the garment loosen. When he peeled it off her body, Lyda slid her arms under his and stepped into him. Gen noticed her left ankle was trembling, but Noah did too, his arms circling their Mistress in response, holding her up. Other than that, he remained still as her hands roved across his back, down, and took what seemed to be a very firm grip on his ass.

  “I’d forgotten how very nice it is to touch you,” Lyda said. Noah put his face into her throat, pressing his lips there. Lyda tilted her head, giving him access, and she stroked his hair, releasing the clasp so the glory of that russet mane spilled across his shoulders. Then her hands were between them, loosening his tie, stripping it out of its knot and letting it lie along either panel of his shirt as she unbuttoned it. Gen had seen Noah’s bare chest plenty of times, but watching Lyda revealing it an inch at a time made it a whole new experience. Lyda caught both ends of the tie, twisted and held them against his throat, her knuckles pressed into his flesh beneath it.

  “You knew you wouldn’t survive if you got us out of the car first.”

  If Noah was startled by the abrupt shift, he rallied fast, jaw tightening. “No, I didn’t know. I hoped I would live. But your lives were more important to me than mine.”

  Lyda brushed her knuckles up his throat, to his jaw. “That’s the first time you’ve done that,” she observed, a husky whisper. “In the past, you would have simply said our lives were more important than yours.”

  His eyes flickered, puzzled. Gen had caught it as well, though. Those two words “to me” were actually quite significant. A man might give his life for a stranger because of moment of conscience, a selfless act. Whereas a person sacrificed his life for a loved one because there was simply no other choice, that very personal, unique connection of love trumping any other consideration of personal value. Because that person being saved was theirs. Their personal, unique person, to watch over, to sacrifice oneself for.

  To the person saved, it might not really matter why the person had done it, but in this case, the distinction was extremely important to the two people saved. Gen didn’t want to put too much into it, but Lyda pointing it out suggested a further cause for hope, for the future they had together.

  With her usual intuition, though, Lyda left it there. She’d turned to other matters. Letting the tie drop to the floor, she pushed his shirt off, hands caressing the roundest part of his shoulders, the muscle groups in his arms, wandering over his pectorals, down to his abdomen to unhook his slacks. “You dressed up for me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes Mistress.”

  “Did you put cologne on your balls?” She pressed her bare breasts against his chest then and pushed his slacks down herself, cupping his ass anew. Noah’s eyes closed, his hands gripping her waist. Gen savored the beautiful, vulnerable pose.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Tease. Take the rest of it off.”

  Lyda stepped back as he complied. While he did, she tugged down the zipper of her skirt, wiggled out of it, let it drop. The swatch of panties followed. Now only Gen wore anything, but the way they both turned to her, their avid gazes drinking in the way she was cinched in the middle like a wrapped piece of candy, she thought Lyda might actually not ever let her wear anything else in the house.

  Noah lifted Lyda onto the bed. When she was on it on all fours, she gave him a teasing look over her sho
ulder. His grimace of near pain amused her as she slid between Gen’s legs like a female cat stalking dinner. She dropped a kiss on Gen’s mound, making her quiver, then eased her weight fully onto her, pressing her palms on either side of her shoulders.

  It speared Gen with desire, longing and a love so strong, tears stung her eyes.

  “Look at me, Gen. Let me see what you’re thinking.”

  She lifted her lashes. She started to reach up, but Lyda shook her head. “Un-unh. Over your head. I want to see you stretched out under me, all mine, legs spread, arms out of the way. Full submission, baby girl. Prove who your Mistress is. Say it.”

  “You,” Gen managed, her throat thick. “Yours.” Lyda’s gaze softened, and then she slid her pussy against Gen’s, a welcome, a renewal, a reacquaintance. Gen shuddered, and Lyda did it again. Gen tilted her hips up, bringing wetness against wetness. Lyda bent, put her mouth on Gen’s breast. It pressed her knees into the bed between Gen’s and likely tilted up Lyda’s hips, if Noah’s suppressed groan was any indication.

  “Noah, why is my pussy empty? Your cock is supposed to be in it.”

  If he could have leaped on the bed, Gen thought he would have. As it was, he was behind Lyda in a blink. As he banded his arm firmly around her waist, his gaze met Gen’s over Lyda’s shoulder. That hold wasn’t incommensurate with his desires, but he knew, as she did, Lyda’s right arm wasn’t going to bear her own weight for long. They could care for her as she cared for them. As they cared for each other.

  “Slow and easy. I want to feel every blissful inch. You move with me as I move with Gen. We’ll see how good your coordination is.” Lyda gave Gen a wink, though Gen saw the strain around her mouth, evidence of shuddering arousal. “Men tend to be hammer and nail, whereas we girls know the pleasure of taking the winding road.” She demonstrated with another lazy rotation against Gen’s pussy that had her gasping, lifting up to her Mistress.

  She knew when Noah pushed into Lyda that blissful inch at a time, because she saw the tightening of her facial features, the arch of her body, felt the quiver that went through her. Since Noah was standing on his knees behind Lyda, Gen also saw his muscle groups tighten, his absorption in the way being inside his Mistress felt.

  Gen dug into the headboard as Lyda kept up that friction between them, using the slickness to intensify it. And Noah, bless his ability to follow a meandering road, figured out the rhythm that brought them together, a mix of hammer and nail thrusting and spirals that built in speed and intent as the three of them created a symphony of shifting bodies, gasping breaths, soft pleas, harsh grunts, muttered oaths. It was the pleasure of making love and fucking at once, of being together and being alive.

  “I can’t…” Gen had been so close before, and now, the two of them were a force she couldn’t resist. “Mistress, please…may I come?”

  “What do you think, Noah?” Lyda let out a small moan Gen treasured as Noah punctuated her question with a powerful thrust. He set his teeth to Lyda’s throat.

  “Yes. Fuck, God. Let her go, Mistress.” He shook his head. “Let her go over.”

  Lyda met Gen’s gaze. “A fine distinction, Noah. Go over for us, Gen.”

  With Lyda stimulating her with every intentional and indirect movement of her body, the latter thanks to Noah’s efforts, Gen exploded into the climax. That delicious rush of fluid bathed her labia, spurted against Lyda’s cunt. It would slide through those slick folds and pool against Noah’s testicles. Gen let the thought add to the searing pleasure of everything that came crashing down on her then. She had only one thing she wanted more.

  “Please…” She wailed it as she fell over that cliff’s edge. “You…two…come…too.”

  There would be very few times she’d ever be able to order Lyda around. But this desperate demand was the one exception. Lyda’s flesh convulsed against her, her face going rigid with pleasure. But Gen also saw and felt the strain that gripped their Mistress, as she tried so hard to fly…and came up short.

  “Noah,” Gen gasped.

  Noah, as melded to them as if he stood inside both their souls, adjusted the band of his arm and his stance, so he supported even more of Lyda’s weight. At the same moment, Gen disobeyed her Mistress. She put her hands against Lyda’s shoulders, and lifted her hips, taking over that spiraling motion. It gave Lyda the support her still healing body needed to catch the wave of the climax, ride its power with them.

  Linked like that, they tumbled into bliss.

  * * * * *

  Gen laid a slice of the gourmet Colby cheese blend in the frying egg, checking on the toast in the warmer as she did so. Lyda was reading at the kitchen table and sipping her coffee as she was wont to do when she was first waking up. Even before the accident, Sunday morning was the one day she deviated from her regimented schedule. No exercise on that day, and she allowed herself one indulgence, toasted thick wheat bread she bought from a locally run bakery that made the stuff from scratch. She spread natural blackberry preserves on it. Since having it the first time, Gen wasn’t sure why anyone would buy sliced, packaged bread again.

  She glanced out the window, where she occasionally glimpsed Noah around the greenhouses. He was doing the minimum necessary daily check on the stock and irrigation. Lyda cared for her more delicate tropical plants like children, tending them so carefully they were delivered to customers without even a blemished leaf.

  “Come look at this.”

  Turning the heat down on the omelet, Gen came to her side. Lyda was considering adding hardscape features to her landscape design offerings, so was perusing an array of images on her tablet. “I searched on erotic statuary.”

  Gen chuckled. “You’re going to start a trend of erotic lawn art in the Tampa area?”

  “No. Smartass.” Lyda slid an arm around Gen’s thighs, knuckles stroking her hip as Gen leaned against her. “This is for my own gardens. I liked some of the things I saw at Tyler’s place last time I was there. I don’t have his budget, of course.”

  “There are Saudi princes who wish they had his budget.” Gen bent closer to look at the picture on the tablet. “That’s…oh. Well.”

  The piece showed two very handsome, muscular nude males having sex, one pressed down on all fours while the other was buried inside him. A woman was stretched out on her hip on a low brick wall beside them, as if they were copulating in a garden setting. She was naked as well, but in a position and with an expression that said she was in charge of them both. Her foot, dangling off the wall, was brushing against the back and hip of the man on top. Her other hand was tangled in the bottom man’s hair, fingers gripped tight.

  “It’s a J. Martin,” Lyda said. “Actually…” She enlarged the picture on the screen. “J. Martin and Thomas Wilder. A collaboration.”

  “Oh. Wow. Well, it’s gorgeous, but you can’t afford a J. Martin. Not unless you sacrifice every penny of next year’s profits.”

  “Since when are you an art aficionado?” Lyda scoffed.

  Lyda had stumbled this morning getting out of bed and wrenched her still weak ankle, which probably explained why she sounded a little cranky. Or maybe she wasn’t cranky. She was just teasing Gen in that edgy way of hers.

  That was what Gen told herself, even as that part of her that never reacted well to moments like this curled into a defensive ball.

  “Even us trailer park trash occasionally read an article,” she said, retreating back to the stove. She was past this stuff. She should be past this stuff.

  “Hey.”

  She lifted her head, found Lyda pinning her with a look. “Where did that come from?”

  “Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction. I know you didn’t mean it that way. Forget it.”

  “I won’t. Come back here.”

  “This will burn.” She flipped the omelet, turned off the stove. Picking up the hand towel, she shook her head. “I mean it, can we just forget it? I don’t know why I said something that dumb.”

  “Neither do I. Which is why I want to know
why.” Lyda extended a hand. Still imperious, but something kinder in her expression that had Gen reluctantly coming to her, letting her hand be taken. Lyda reached up, touched her face. “What the hell, rabbit?”

  Gen sighed, wishing she could just throw the towel over her head. “It was your tone of voice. I know you were teasing or just irritable. I have this weird trigger about things like that. I know you didn’t mean it. Old stuff, you know?”

  Lyda studied her, then pulled her down to eye level, pushing a lock of hair over Gen’s ear, tugging it before she settled her hand on her shoulder, thumb sliding along the base of her throat. “Okay. But it’s not the first time I’ve seen you do that. Despite how accomplished you are, you think because I’m better educated or grew up with more money, that I look down on you.”

  That grip on her throat tightened. “A Domme cherishes her subs, rabbit. Cherishes. They’re not here for her to kick around to make her feel more superior. Except Noah, when I’m in a bad mood. Then I have you to kick my ass for that.”

  Despite the grim humor, Lyda’s gaze stayed piercing. “That was your last free pass. You put yourself down in front of me or where I hear about it again, I’ll be kicking your ass. Got it?”

  Gen pressed her lips together, nodded.

  “Good girl.” Lyda’s touch eased to a distracting caress between Gen’s breasts, with a quick tug on the connecting point between the cups of her bra, accessible from the vee neckline. “Now, truth. How did you know that about J. Martin? You cut your eyes away when you mentioned an article, and that’s what you do when you’re not telling the whole truth.”

  She and Noah should take Lyda to Vegas. They could probably come home capable of affording ten J. Martins. “How about quid pro quo?” Gen rallied. “You tell me where you and Marguerite went the other day?”

  On Wednesday, Lyda had told Gen and Noah to watch over the nursery business while she ran an errand. She was driving again, but only short trips. One, because she still tired easily and two, despite her great annoyance with herself about it, she was still skittish behind the wheel in heavy traffic. Noah offered to take her, but Lyda declined the offer. “I have a ride.”