Gift of the Goddess

by Denise Rossetti

  Trey blew out a breath. “Will it involve pain?”

  Brin’s dimple deepened and Anje shifted to accommodate the slow rise of his cock beneath her. When he shot Trey a glance full of menace and mischief, prickles of anticipation blossomed at the base of her spine. “No more than you can take,” he purred. “You game?”

  “Yes,” said Trey curtly.

  “You’ll give yourself over to me? Do it my way?”

  A pause. “Yes.” It was a husky whisper.

  Anje abandoned herself to her darker instincts. She walked two fingers over the bulge tenting Trey’s sarong. “Remember that night in The Hollows, Trey? You didn’t turn out to be a very good slave after all.”

  He grinned and his cock twitched under her touch. “I’ll do better this time.”

  She squeezed hard enough to make him grunt. “I’m sure you will.”

  Brin gave a dry chuckle. When she glanced at him, hesitating, he nodded. “Keep going, scout, you’re doing fine.”

  Trey’s lips compressed. “Both of you? What am I supposed to do if you want different things at the same time?”

  Brin ran his palm down Trey’s body from his throat to the line of the sarong. He slipped his fingers under the knot. “If you value your pretty hide, you’ll work out a way to please us both.” He tugged and the sarong fell away. “Stand up.”

  Slowly, Trey got to his feet. Anje stared, imprinting him on her memory. He was beautifully proportioned, all cream and silk and masculine fire. The short stubble of his regrowing hair exposed his forehead and hardened his jaw, making him look older, grimmer. His body hair was a shade lighter—except, of course, for his genitals where there was none at all. She sighed with pleasure and anticipation, watching his cock tremble with his rapid breath.

  A flush rose up his throat and over his cheeks. “What about you? Why am I the only one…?” The words trailed away when he looked full into Brin’s eyes. “Gods, man, you’ll burn me alive.”

  “I intend to.” Brin bared his teeth. “Walk over to the dresser. Slowly now.”

  In complete silence, Trey did as he was bid, until he was standing with his back to them, his hands braced on the wood.

  Brin hummed his appreciation. “Now that,” he said, “is the most biteable ass in the known world, except for yours, scout.”

  Anje laughed, while honey slipped down the inside of her thigh. “The rest of him isn’t bad either.” Trey swore under his breath.

  Brin said, “Patience is a virtue Trey’s never had. I think he should learn some.” Anje murmured her agreement. “But he has a fine imagination. You’re not to turn around, Trey, no matter what you hear, understand?”

  Trey grunted.

  “Understand?”

  The muscles in Trey’s shoulders twitched. “Yes.”

  Brin loosened the knot and Anje’s sarong puddled around her hips. “That better?”

  “Much.” She reached up and pulled his mouth to hers, smiling, ready to play, to make enough noise to drive Trey crazy. But in the doing, the game became real. Brin’s tongue dueling with hers, his fingers rolling her nipples, the feel of his hair-roughened skin against hers, the heat of his magnificent cock against her thigh, it all had her humming her pleasure, gasping with each successive erotic shock.

  Brin nipped the side of her neck. “There’s nothing sexier than a hot woman. Can you smell her, Trey?”

  Silence.

  “Can you?”

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  “Don’t sulk. It’s going to get better.” Brin slid a long finger over her folds and into her sheath.

  The air evaporated from Anje’s lungs. “Holy Mother!” When he added a second finger, crooking them so he was massaging her clitoris from the inside, she let out a small shriek.

  Trey lowered his head to his folded arms and groaned.

  Brin chuckled, deep in his throat. “Hear that?” He pumped his fingers slowly in and out of her slick flesh, producing a wet, succulent sound. “That’s the most beautiful cunt in the Ten Nations, weeping for you.”

  “Bastard.” Trey slid one hand down and gripped his cock.

  “Keep your hands on the dresser!” The tone bit like a lash and Trey snatched his hand back. Brin grinned down at Anje, his eyes dancing with devilment. “You’re pretty well primed, sweetheart. Ready to play?”

  Anje struggled to her elbows, panting. Trey’s ass was canted up at the most enticing angle, his bare balls tight and rosy with lust. The lamplight washed his skin, glinting on fine golden hair, warm creamy skin. Her mouth watered and her brain reeled with carnal possibilities, all of them deliciously wicked. “Oh, yes.”

  “Go on then. Your turn.”

  Suddenly, she knew exactly what she wanted. “Don’t move, Trey.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Trust and love the Mother gives Her Children in abundant measure. So when misfortune brings you low, do not rail against Her. Your little life is part of Her Grand Design.

  Enough trust, enough love, and you will see. But it’s a damned shame it has to be so hard.

  Remarks of the Third Sister of Desperation, on the tenth anniversary of the establishment of Mother’s Hearth, 9219 ATF.

  Softly, Anje closed the distance ‘til she was directly behind Trey. Rising to her toes, she leaned her body into his and kissed her way over his shoulder blades, pressing her breasts into his back, rubbing her mound over his buttocks.

  Wicked impulses tempted her, each more wanton than the last. Trey’s tenderness made her feel deliciously cruel, his strength told her she was safe. Mother, how she loved him!

  As if he’d read her mind, Trey groaned, “Anje, if you love me—”

  “I do, I do.” She smiled and nipped his shoulder. Then she stepped back and delivered a ringing smack to one muscular cheek, putting all the strength of her arm into it.

  “Hey!” Trey reared up, back arching, and his eyes flew open.

  The muscles of her sex contracted so hard, it was a moment before she could catch her breath. “Very good,” she purred, trying to sound menacing. As she shook her hand to get the sting out, she became aware of Brin, leaning against the wall, choking with laughter.

  “Not as simple as it looks, is it, scout?”

  Anje admired the pink handprint on Trey’s beautiful ass and grinned back. Suddenly, all the delight and fun of it hit her like a thunderclap. Brin had been right when he’d said she was born for this. Born for them.

  In the part of her mind where fear had gibbered, determination bloomed. She refused to let go of this soaring joy.

  Fuck you, goddess-bitch. I won’t let you take them from me.

  I. Will. Not.

  On the thought, she squared off and administered another cracking blow, this time to the other buttock.

  Trey cursed. Then he laughed. “Are you sure that’s not you, Brin? Hits like a girl.”

  Anje growled.

  “I’ve got a riding crop somewhere,” offered the shaman. Trey said no more, though his lips twitched.

  “Fair enough,” said Brin, when it became clear Trey was too wise to speak. “I always think the flat of the hand is more personal. Like this, scout.” The blow jerked Trey up on to his toes and had Anje wincing in sympathy. “Consider this a delayed punishment.”

  “Bastard. What for?”

  “For risking what’s mine without permission.” With slow deliberation, he worked Trey’s ass until it glowed. Through it all, the other man didn’t make a sound and his erection never flagged. In fact, she was willing to bet he got harder, though drops of sweat beaded his forehead.

  “Last two,” growled Brin.

  “Wait.” Anje knelt and took Trey’s cock in two hands, just for the delight and comfort of holding the throbbing, satiny flesh. The musk of his arousal was strong in her nostrils. “Now,” she said. Brin murmured his approval and Trey took his final blows cradled firmly in her grasp, shuddering.

  “It’s over,” said Brin. “Turn ‘round.”

  He
wiped a tear from the corner of Trey’s eye with his thumb. Licked it. “You did very well.”

  A ghost of the cocky grin returned. “I get a reward, right?”

  “Depends.” Brin’s glance tangled with Anje’s and lust and dark desire hummed down the link. Shock slammed through her when she realized what he wanted, followed immediately by such a superlatively wicked wave of lust, that she staggered. Mother save her, he was magnificent!

  “Do it,” she said softly. She touched Trey’s arm. “You’re to put your hands behind you and stand still. Don’t come without permission and keep your eyes shut or I’ll blindfold you.”

  Trey cleared his throat. “I think I’d prefer it.”

  “No.” Anje shot him a teasing glance. “You’ll have to control yourself, won’t you?”

  “Scout, you’re a natural.” Brin stroked her bottom. Then he stared at Trey, standing obediently with his eyes closed. His smile faded and his expression grew so naked with yearning, Anje felt she should look away, but she couldn’t.

  When he sank to his knees at Trey’s feet, she put her hand on his shoulder, putting everything she had into the link, all the pleading, the love, the unconditional support.

  Brin patted her hand and leaned forward to engulf Trey’s cock in one swallow.

  “Lufra!” Trey staggered, only Brin’s grip on his hips keeping him upright. His eyes shot open, wide and golden, as he stared down at the mouth pulling hungrily at his flesh. “Brin, you don’t have to— I never expected—” His fists clenched at his sides. “Ah gods. Fuck!” The shaman gave no sign he’d heard. He sucked much harder than Anje, more brutally than any woman, his cheeks hollowed with the effort.

  Trey’s chest heaved. Slowly, he buried his hands in Brin’s hair. His eyes fluttered closed and he gave himself over to the luxury of his pleasure, grunting softly with the rhythm of the shaman’s strokes.

  Anje sank to her knees and spread her thighs. She was so hot, so ready, all she had to do was press the heel of her hand against her clit. As the release roared through her, she fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t bear to miss a moment, not even for her own pleasure. Brin stumbled in his rhythm, picked up again. Between his open thighs, his cock reared, long and thick, so heavy with blood, it barely trembled when he moved.

  Trey’s buttocks were clenched, tight and hard as stone. Her breath still coming hard, Anje touched Brin’s shoulder. “I don’t think he can take much more.” The shaman murmured his agreement and slowed his pace, varying his strokes, licking and nibbling.

  Trey groaned. “For Lufra’s sake, finish me!”

  “No.” Brin lashed Trey’s cock head with his tongue. “Can you hold out?”

  “No. Yes. Gods, Brin, you don’t have to—”

  The shaman cut him off. “I want to.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I like it. Can you go on if I give you an incentive?”

  Anje’s breath stuttered in her lungs. She couldn’t wait. By Lufra, she thought she wanted this as much as they did! Possibly more.

  Trey’s lids lifted and the light sheened his eyes with gold. “What is it?”

  “If you don’t offer before I tell you, you can have me.” He paused. “Any way you want.”

  Trey’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious. Any way?”

  “It’s your duty.” Brin smiled, the dimple flashing. “I can’t go to the Great Rite with a virgin ass.” His expression grew serious. “I can never repay you for what you’ve given me. And this is my joy to give.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” said Trey roughly.

  “Trey, do you want it? There’s a price.”

  “Gods, yes!”

  “Well then. Think you can last another five minutes?” He rummaged in a drawer and came up with a sand clock and small box. “I guarantee you’ll remember tonight for the rest of your life.” He set the clock.

  Then he bent to recommence the torture and Trey’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  By the three minute mark, Anje was dancing with anxiety Trey didn’t have a shaman’s training and his moans were taking on a hoarse, desperate quality. She nipped his shoulder. Hard.

  Steadying, he muttered his thanks. He blew out a breath and gritted his teeth, while Brin hummed with pleasure and sank hard fingers into his tender ass.

  At four minutes, she wrapped her fingers around Trey’s balls and squeezed. Beads of sweat rolled down his chest. “Careful,” he grated, but he hung on.

  It seemed like an eternity before the last of the sand trickled through the clock and Brin drew back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat on his heels and eyed his rampant handiwork with no little pride. “I think I’m good at this.”

  “Where?” asked Trey, his chest heaving like a bellows.

  “What?”

  “The bed?” The younger man’s face was stark with the effort of control. “Choose quick.”

  Brin took one look, grabbed the box from the dresser and ripped the lid off, revealing a pale creamy ointment. He shoved it into Trey’s hands. Then he picked Anje up bodily and dropped her in the middle of acres of bed. As he came down over her in a rush of masculine heat, her thighs fell open and he sheathed himself with one smooth, remorseless thrust. Anje squeaked with the shock of his stone-hard shaft furrowing through her tight folds, pushing her flesh aside, high and hot and hard, almost as far as her womb.

  “You all right, scout?” He grinned. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He glanced over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for, man?”

  Trey bit his lip so hard, the flesh went white. “You sure?” he husked. “Last chance.”

  The goddess fire blazed in Brin’s black eyes. He smiled, the most heartbreakingly beautiful smile Anje had ever seen. It smoothed the grim lines from his face, made him look younger, tender and vulnerable. “Go on. Do your worst.”

  Trey gripped the shaman’s hips, where the dragon rode. “Can’t be gentle. Sorry.” He set himself and thrust.

  Brin inhaled sharply and his eyes opened wide. He paled, then the blood rushed back, running up under the olive skin of his cheeks in a hectic flush.

  Anje kissed him, quick and hard, and flexed her internal muscles against the hard bulk wedged inside her. Deep in each dark pupil, the goddess fire writhed like a living thing and the link glowed with an excruciating mix of pleasure and pain.

  The muscles of Trey’s neck and shoulders bunched with the effort he was making to restrain himself.

  “Trey?” Brin’s rumble was so soft, it was more like a vibration in his chest than actual speech. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

  “What?”

  “I won’t break.”

  “Hot.” Trey’s throat moved. “Gods, so hot.”

  His hips surged. Within seconds, he was powering into Brin, shaking the bed with hammer blows.

  The link flared so violently, Anje’s vision grayed out. Brin’s meaty cock jolted back and forth over the muscular walls of her sex and she splayed her thighs, tilting her hips to offer herself, craving every hot, hungry inch. She couldn’t catch her breath, her entire being was keyed to the shaman’s, to the hard, high point of his ecstasy as Trey struck an exquisitely pleasurable spot deep in his body.

  Again and again, without mercy.

  The younger man worked toward a crescendo, pushing Brin with him. Like an echo of the link, she felt the infinite depth of his desperate, despairing love for both of them, expressed in every push, every dragging pull. She was awash with it, vibrating in concert, all thrust and slide, sumptuous pleasure and luscious tension.

  Trey cried out, the tendons in his neck and shoulders straining. He slammed one last time into Brin, as if he couldn’t bury himself deep enough. The link trembled, shimmered and exploded in a dark fireball of release.

  No more than a heartbeat later, Brin arched his back, grinding his cock into her so deep, Anje thought she’d die with the joy of it. His spasms lasted endlessly, the convulsions rippling though her soul as much as her body, dragging her
with him into a vortex of lightning-shot rapture.

  The panting silence lasted an eon. Shakily, Trey disengaged himself and collapsed beside her, snuggling his head into her neck. As she caressed his trembling shoulder, his tears slid damply over her skin and pooled in the pit of her throat.

  Brin sat up slowly, the expression on his dark face fierce with concentration. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not possible,” he said. “I’m sure it’s not.” He nudged Trey’s thigh with his knee. “Do you know what that felt like?”

  Trey opened one eye. “Like death and glory all mashed together?”

  The shaman huffed out a laugh. “True enough.” He sobered. “I could have sworn I felt you in the Bond link.” Idly, he ran his palm over Anje’s flank and she purred. She drifted, her mind a mellow pool of content, recalling the experience, piece by gorgeous piece, extracting every bright memory and stringing them together like glowing beads on a necklace, something to take out whenever she wanted to savor at leisure.

  “Never mind,” said Brin. “Up with you, scout.” He scooped her up from the bed and headed for the adjoining ablutions chamber, where hot water was piped from the furnace in Djalen’s kitchen.

  As he stepped with her into the deep bath, Anje sighed, replete. Save for one thing.

  “Trey?” she called. “Will you rub my feet like you did—?” She broke off, feeling a flush heat her cheeks.

  “The first time?” Trey leaned against the door, grinning, all sweaty and elegantly rumpled. “Only if you’ll scrub my back.”

  The link hummed with fondness, a light, tender touch.

  It wasn’t Brin’s.

  Anje shot bolt upright and water surged in a wave that slopped over the rim of the bath. Behind her, Brin grunted with surprise.

  “I felt him!” she exclaimed. “I felt him, I did!

  “Lufra, that’s good.” Trey lowered himself into the water, eyes half closed with pleasure. “’Course you did,” he said. “Give me a minute and you’ll feel me again.” Though his chuckle sounded weary, it was brimful of anticipation.