Brin returned to stand before her. She hadn’t realized she’d stretched out a hand ‘til he took it in both of his and cradled it against his heart.
“Seventy years ago,” he said heavily, “the king of the Feolin committed a great sin in the eyes of Lufra. He raped her High Priestess. The woman killed herself and the Goddess abandoned us.” His fingers tightened bruisingly on Anje’s. “The birth-rate has been dropping for decades. I am an only child. Trey has but one sister. The Feolin are dying, Anje.”
Under her palm, she could feel the steady thump of his heart. How could such vitality, such energy, cease to be? “Do you have—?” She couldn’t go on.
He shook his head. “I am especially cursed.” His lips twisted and he let her hand drop. “I’m barren, Anje. So many women, so many years…”
“And Trey?” she whispered, putting her hand back.
“Trey also, though he’s still so young. There’s more time in hand for him.” He paused. “Thank you, scout.”
“What for?”
“For caring.”
She snorted. “I don’t!”
“Where are your hands?”
Anje stifled a curse. She’d been smoothing one palm across his chest, again and again. The other cupped the warmth of his hipbone. Right on that terrible bruise.
“Gods, sorry!” She leaped away.
He caught her by the elbow. “It’s all right. It’s not what you think.”
“Then…” She frowned in puzzlement.
“See for yourself.” He pulled the knot free and the sarong swished to the ground.
“Holy Mother!” All the air punched out of her lungs.
Dragon-anointed.
The tattoo girdled his loins, in a writhing pattern of black and red, every tendril, scale and claw rendered in exquisite detail. The beast rose high over his trim hips, swooping to undulate over a ridged abdomen. The long reptilian head with its gaping mouth was angled at the glossy black thatch of his pubic bush.
His penis was half hard and rising to meet her regard, the heavy testicles tightening below. Anje knew without meeting his gaze that the goddess flame would be blazing in his midnight eyes.
“Want to see the rest?” He pivoted slowly, presenting her with a broad back tapering to a neat waist and high, rounded buttocks. The dragon’s tail dipped into the cleft between those firm cheeks, the tip of one canted wing caressing the crease where his ass met the back of his thigh.
Anje closed her teeth on a whimper as Brin turned to face her again.
How cleverly he’d concealed this glory from her yesterday! Now she came to think of it—and to be fair, she’d done little but think of it—they’d wrapped her so tight in their sensual web, she’d had no time for contemplation before she was swamped with pleasure.
She collapsed on the bedroll, sitting on her hands so they couldn’t get away from her, and gobbled him with her eyes. She’d never seen a man so big who was so perfectly proportioned, graceful as a temple dancer. And he had the most beautiful skin, smooth and olive-toned, radiant with health and virility. The curve of his biceps struck her like the strong, spare beauty of a plainchant, the melody echoed in the heavy planes of muscle on his shoulders and chest. A light mat of black curls stretched from one small dusky nipple to the other. They were tightly erect. Her tongue crept out to moisten suddenly dry lips and her own nipples ached for relief, tingling with need.
“I like you looking at me, scout.” His voice was husky, his hands fisted on his hips. “Don’t stop.”
Her gaze dropped, following a line of silky hair to his groin. His cock jumped. It was massively erect, but as she looked, it grew another impossible half inch. She swallowed and could have sworn it stretched again, nudging his navel.
Now it appeared as though the dragon was watching Brin’s penis too, with proprietorial interest. “Did it hurt?” Her voice was a thread.
“Yes.”
Flinching, she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of his pain, the fiery bite of the needle, over and over.
“Keep looking, I said!” He didn’t raise his voice, but the tone flicked like a lash.
Her eyes flew open and she gasped. An oily bead oozed free of the deep slit on Brin’s cock head. It trembled, slithering its way across the smooth, rosy flesh, until it hung on the collar. Then it flowed across corded tendons and slid down, coursing slowly over the veins throbbing under the skin of the distended shaft, disappearing under his scrotal sac.
Brin shivered and Anje licked her lips. She was drowning, and not only between her legs.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” she murmured. The words caught her unawares and she bit her lip, feeling a scalding flush of embarrassment heat her neck and cheeks.
Brin smiled crookedly. “I’m glad you think so,” he said gravely.
“She’s right,” said Trey from where he stood in the opening of the tent, “you are.”
Brin’s high cheekbones reddened and his cock jerked as another droplet swelled and followed the first down his length. “Touch her, Trey,” he said curtly and the younger man dropped to the bedroll and stroked Anje’s hot cheek.
“Poor love,” he crooned. “Give her what she wants, Brin.”
The shaman ignored him. “Do you know, scout, I have only to will it to spurt now? Simply from the touch of the flame in your eyes.”
Trey’s fingers rasped the fabric of Anje’s shirt over her stiff nipples. His soft lips nibbled the tendons in her neck.
“Shall I do that, Anje?” asked Brin.
“Don’t waste an offering,” Trey advised.
“Anje?”
She couldn’t breathe. The tissues of her pussy felt impossibly swollen. “No,” she whispered.
“Are you wet, scout? Show me.”
She was so dazed that she froze, gaping. Brin said, “Help her, Trey,” and the younger man pulled the shirt over her head.
“Up on your knees, scout,” said Brin. Trey slung an arm around her waist and raised her. “Show me.”
For the first time, the shaman touched himself, running his forefinger in a firm press from tip to balls. The muscles in Anje’s thighs turned to liquid and her knees fell apart of their own volition. Brin’s dark stare delved between her thighs, caressing her slick flesh with fire.
She shuddered and arched her pelvis, exposing her damp curls, the wet pink of her labial lips, the dark, mysterious entrance to her body. The knowledge that two men looked and lusted was more potent than any aphrodisiac.
Brin dragged in a breath and his hand fisted at the base of his cock. “Now, Trey!”
With a deep hum of pleasure, Trey sank two fingers into her sheath, at the same time dragging his thumb across her clit.
With a shriek, she exploded, the orgasm rolling over her in a cavalry charge of sensation, pounding through her body. Trey cupped her sex, murmuring loving nonsense in her ear, his fingers caressing her deep inside, rubbing and gentling her through it. Finally, he cuddled her into his chest, letting her rest.
Panting, she opened her eyes and looked up, straight into Brin’s face. He gave her that half-smile again, the one that could fell a woman at a dozen paces, and murmured, “You’re perfect, scout. Simply perfect.”
Again. She’d done it again.
Chapter Five
In closing, my dear Richard, I beseech you—beg His Grace to call me home. Missionary work among the Children of the Mother (the very name is a blasphemy!) is a lost cause. Truly, I fear for my immortal soul. My Way is Straight. It’s their eyes, Richard. I cannot sleep; my nights are full of dreams—such [words obscured by a blot]
Addendum to a report from the Most Reverend Gandy, priest of the Straight Way, to Richard, Secretary to the Bishop of the Square Cathedral, 9998 ATF (After the Firsters)
Anje tried to scramble to her feet, but Trey’s fingers were still trapped deep inside her body and Brin loomed directly in front of her, his chest an implacable wall. A sliver of fear cooled the furnace of her arousal.
“B
ut I didn’t—” She broke off. “How do you do that?” Only the most severe exercise of self-discipline kept the words from emerging as a wail.
Brin picked up her hand and pressed her palm against his cock. He purred with pleasure. Gods, he was enormous and so hot to touch! She could barely close her fist around his girth. “I’ve been trained to gauge the finest gradations of a woman’s pleasure,” he said. “And as for Trey—”
“I’m naturally gifted,” said Trey modestly, flexing his fingers against a spot sweet enough to make her breath hitch.
If they’d wanted to hurt her, they could have done so at any time, but all they’d done was gift her with overwhelming pleasure. Suddenly, the fear disappeared as if it had never been, leaving behind only a delicious trepidation.
What would they do next?
Mother of the world, how could a warrior be so weak? But there it was. She masked her foolishness with a show of irritation.
“It’s not fair!” she snarled.
She’d expected Brin to laugh, but instead he said seriously, “No, scout, it’s not. You’re fighting the will of a goddess. I’m sorry.” He paused for a heartbeat. “But not that sorry.”
His dark head swooped and he took her mouth like a marauder, insinuating his tongue, sucking and nibbling. Her head fell back and she clutched his hair, the weight of it shifting cool and silken across the backs of her hands. Her thighs clenched on Trey’s wrist.
By the time Brin drew back, her vision had hazed and she could barely breathe. He transferred his attentions to her collarbones, licking the hollows and dips, while Trey engulfed one nipple in his mouth, so that she arched and cried out. At the hoarse sound, Brin lifted his head and chuckled. Then he wrapped his tongue around her other nipple and tugged.
Forcing her eyes open, Anje stared down at the two heads bent to her pleasure, one red-gold, the other dark as night. Their mouths were hot and wet, but qualitatively different, and the eroticism of it made her insane. Trey hovered on the verge of rough, suckling her deep, pulling at her sensitive flesh. Brin’s mouth was firm and gentle, rolling and tugging, compressing her against his tongue and releasing, over and over.
Trey’s fingers were still crammed deliciously hard into her sheath. It must be Brin toying with the cleft between her buttocks, gathering the flooding moisture from her labia and massaging it into her perineum and back over the rosette of her anus.
His touch was featherlight, but she wriggled with discomfort. He stopped, but he didn’t shift the pad of his finger from its resting place over her bottom. With a last, lingering lick, he released her breast.
“Trey.” There was no response. “Trey!”
“What?” Trey hummed over her nipple and fluttered his fingers. Anje breathed deeply. She would not beg, she would not. But if someone didn’t fuck her soon, she was going to break bones.
“Move your hand. I’ve got to taste her.” As if the words had tweaked a nerve, her sex contracted.
“Lufra! Anje, be careful!” Trey lifted his head abruptly and her nipple slid free with a plop. “That’s my sword hand!” He pulled his fingers out, and pretended to examine them anxiously. They glistened with her juices. He cocked a mischievous eye at Brin and popped them into his mouth. “Mmm.”
Brin growled and knocked him out of the way with his shoulder. Trey laughed as he rolled over, but Brin took Anje’s buttocks in his big hands without a word. He lifted her to his mouth.
And devoured.
Shoving his shoulders under her thighs, he swiped his broad tongue through the creamy wetness of her slit, avoiding her clit at the top of the stroke. He did it again and again, with great deliberation, each time drawing slightly closer to the bundle of quivering nerves. Holy Mother, it must be the size of her fist!
His tongue was as hot as a brand, igniting every fold and muscle in her sex.
Cursing viciously, Anje sank her fingers into his hair and yanked. “Ow!” His head came up and his eyes met hers over the slight curve of her belly, the rise of her breasts. The inferno of the goddess filled his pupils with flame.
“Make me come!” she gritted. “Now!”
For the first time, she saw Brin smile with his whole heart and the sight of it stopped her breath. Mother save her, he had a dimple! Oh, she was lost, lost.
He licked his lips, shiny with her juices. “My pleasure,” he purred and sucked her clitoris into his mouth.
Anje went rigid, her back arching until only her shoulders were touching the bedding. He pressed one long finger into her vagina, massaging her clitoris from the inside. Time seemed to stop as she rode the edge of her culmination. Brin rubbed another finger over the tight hole of her bottom, exerting a steady, gentle pressure. The ring of muscle yielded and he sank in up to the first knuckle.
Anje yelped, her eyes snapping open at the unfamiliar sensation. Brin stroked and sucked and stroked and sucked. So many sensations experienced simultaneously created a firestorm of desire that made her writhe helplessly. High, panting cries jerked out of her, one after the other.
Trey cupped one breast in both hands and fed it into his hot mouth as if it was a ripe gaeta fruit. Then he clamped his lips over the distended crest, pulling it taut with lingering relish.
She had no breath left to scream. The climax rolled over her like a procession of earthquakes, pulverizing her bones, leaving her limp and fractured.
With a moan, she let her eyes fall shut, luxuriating in the delicious aftershocks. A warm, hard hand cupped her mons, holding her firmly while she shuddered, and she murmured her appreciation.
Her head was lifted and pillowed on a brawny thigh and she turned her head to kiss it, smelling male musk. Brin.
Trey’s hands parted her knees.
By the Mother, Brin had played her like a fiddler’s jig! He must have hypnotized her. A warrior of the Mother didn’t take orders like a pleasure slave. She gave them.
Anje sat up. “No,” she said with decision.
“You offered, Anje. Twice.” Trey ran his hands through his hair ‘til it tufted. “We told you about Lufra’s Law.” His eyes were a little wild.
“That’s not what I mean.” She shook her head impatiently. “You were first yesterday.”
Brin leaned over to press a kiss to the tip of her nose and fondle her breasts in both hands. “It’s best for you if Trey’s first, scout.”
“You don’t mollycoddle a warrior!” she snapped. “What I want is…what I want. And that’s you,” she stood and kneed Brin hard in the chest, “beneath me, mighty shaman.” Grinning, he toppled over on to his back, his shaft rearing clean and eager out of the tattoo on his belly.
As she swung her knee over his hips, she heard Trey sigh loudly. Anje fixed him with a dark glare. “As for you, Red—” He brightened and his cock wagged. “You wait ‘til I’m settled. Understand?”
“Ooh yes, mistress. I hear and obey.” He waggled his eyebrows and leered. “I can watch though, can’t I?”
His face was alive with merriment, but when she snapped, “And don’t touch yourself!” the chuckle died and he tucked his hands quickly behind his back.
Brin curled his long fingers into her waist and held her steady. “You’d better be good and wet, scout.”
Anje’s lips quirked. “You’re a real mother hen, you know that?” she teased. She heard Trey’s smothered laugh behind her and then his indrawn breath as the smooth head of Brin’s cock kissed her folds and burrowed.
She braced her hands on Brin’s shoulders. Trey panted, the warmth of his breath stirring her hair. Anje had a thought so carnal, it had to be divine inspiration. She let herself slip back a little and Brin cursed.
“Help me, Trey,” she murmured and he clamped his hands around her hips. “No, not like that. Brin can hold me. I need you to guide him in.”
After an instant’s charged silence, both men spoke together.
“No need,” rumbled Brin.
“All right,” said Trey.
Anje smiled, creamy with sati
sfaction. “Good.”
Brin’s cock twitched convulsively against her thigh and his face went completely blank.
Anje’s evil genius made her say, “Wait.” Drawing out the moment, she leaned forward to pinch Brin’s tight nipples and nip at the tiny, engorged peaks. His fingers tightened on her skin. The new position canted her buttocks up high, exposing her damp curls and the swollen pink folds of her sex to Trey’s appreciative gaze.
She administered one last lick. Mother, he was sweeter than spiced wine! The pulse beat so hard between her thighs, she would not have been surprised to learn her heart had migrated there.
Payback time.
Dropping a kiss on the tip of Brin’s nose, she smiled seraphically, knowing he’d recognize the echo of his own patronizing caress. She watched his eyes turn molten and couldn’t be sure how much was anger and how much lust. “Do it,” she said softly to Trey, drawing back to observe Brin’s expression.
She’d thought he’d gasp at the first touch of the other man’s fingers, but she found she’d underestimated his control. Instead, the shaman’s breathing deepened until he’d achieved a regular rhythm, and his face retained that curious immobility.
Anje couldn’t see what Trey was doing, but she could guess. He must have Brin’s cock in both hands, because the broad, satiny head was slipping back and forth along her labial furrow, nuzzling her clit, teasing her entrance with its mouthwatering heat. Trey’s curly head brushed the back of her thigh and he turned his head to nip the curve of her ass.
The change was so minute, she almost missed it. Brin’s lower lip relaxed a fraction and his breath hitched, stumbling over the rhythm. His lashes swept down, concealing the goddess fire in his eyes. Anje felt a dark flare of triumph. She longed to push until she discovered his limits, but Trey’s play was making her crazy.
“Hold him steady,” she ordered.
Gift of the Goddess Page 5
