Something Else: The Three Graces Book One

by Nia Farrell

  “Be right back, chica.”

  The new endearment makes me smile. Not that I don’t like baby girl—that makes me feel treasured—but chica makes me feel... I don’t know… desired.

  Morning needs demand that I brush my teeth and use the toilet. It burns when I pee. I’m guessing that’s normal, considering my V-card was just thoroughly cashed in by someone Nico’s size. I test the temperature of the rising bath water and cut back on the cold until it’s as hot as I can stand it and the steam starts to rise. Stepping into the tub, I marvel at its depth.

  Fuck. I should have demanded joint custody of the en-suite when we moved in.

  J.T. returns with an armload of bath products. Foreseeing need, I make a mental note to buy duplicates. When he offers the bottle of wild orchid shower gel, I shudder to see blood on his hands and blink hard to clear my psychic vision. It could be this life, past life, or both, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go there. Part of me is still fragile, newly deflowered. I sense the need to process the changes in me before I can effectively focus on healing J.T.

  He doesn’t leave. Instead, he sits on the commode and watches me bathe. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asks once when I’ve gone quiet. Slipping back in body, I return to the present and have to ask him to repeat the question. “Sorry, I was out. What did you say?”

  “Out?” He doesn’t sound pissed or freaked, at least.

  “Yeah. I tend to go out of body when I bathe. That’s why I allow an hour, or two. Sometimes longer. Nothing to yank me back like the water turning cold. Stick around and I’ll show you something.”

  His continued presence invited, I eventually motion him over to watch the water go out. “Look,” I tell him. “Clockwise.”

  “How?” he asks, mystified. Everyone knows that water in the Northern Hemisphere flows counterclockwise down a drain. Doesn’t it?

  I explain things as I understand them. “Energy coming into a space flows counterclockwise. Energy going out flows clockwise. When I meditate, go out of body, astral travel, whatever, it creates a clockwise vortex. Look closer. You’ll see the whirlpool is off center. It’s there, to the right of the drain.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “I don’t know.” I wring more water from my hair before wrapping it in a towel.

  J.T. challenges me with one raised brow. “I don’t!” I insist, giggling. “Not for certain. It’s usually centered. Sooo… just guessing… either someone was distracting me,” I say pointedly, “or I came back too soon.”

  I cock my head, listening. “Nope. They’re not explaining it. Jesus, my guides can be obtuse.”

  The reminder of my psychic gifts gives him pause. Delaying the inevitable, he unfolds a bath sheet, keeping hold of it as I step from the tub. He studies me as he dries me, back first, then front, counting my freckles and inhaling the scent of my skin in the hollow of my neck, the curve of my breast, beneath my arms, between my legs.

  It’s erotic as hell.

  He moves me in front of the mirror. Standing behind me, he uses my detangling comb on the ends of my hair and works his way higher, taking care to not hurt me. I wish that I could promise him the same.

  “How much do you know?” he asks, working on the left side of my head.

  “Probably more than you’re comfortable with,” I admit. “Honest, I haven’t been delving, but being with you, finally… I can’t help it. When I’m open to receive, it’s really hard to shut it off. Damn near impossible at times. Fuck, there are nights I have to wear earbuds or leave the radio or television on for white noise because the voices just won’t stop.”

  He pauses midstroke. “Yeah,” he says. One word speaks volumes from the man who can’t sleep with us until he’s dealt with his own demons.

  Suddenly, I remember that he asked me a question. Is there anything you want to tell me? I decide to start small. “You were a jaguar priest, but you abused your power. Girls who refused to sleep with you were ‘chosen by the god’ for sacrifice. You slit my throat and smiled while you did it. Nico watched, but he couldn’t save me.”

  He finishes the sweeping stroke he’s on before meeting my gaze in the mirror. “I lied,” he confesses, abruptly pulling me from my vision. “We didn’t cut cards. I’m so big… we figured Nico was the better man for your first time. You’ve known him long enough to trust him. Me, you just met. Though it fucking feels like I’ve known you forever.”

  “Because you have,” I say. “And you’re forgiven.” For the lie told to spare me, for the lifetimes when he spared me not, for each and every unintentional and deliberate hurt he’s ever inflicted upon me. I can’t speak for Nico; those wounds are his to recognize, to forgive, to help heal. But when I look at J.T.’s hands, the blood is gone, at least for now.

  We’re all off work today, free to do whatever we want, go wherever Spirit leads. It’s too soon to drag J.T. into a sweat lodge, and my tender backside is in no shape for kayaking, but there’s a Firefly marathon on and popcorn in the kitchen. With butter on our fingers, it’s not long before the men get creative, painting my skin and licking it off while I reach inside their elastic waistbands for a little slip and slide.

  Seated on either side of me, they get me naked and remove their clothes only under protest. I swear, I’m not trying to top from the bottom but I need to touch them, feel them, memorize the contours of their bodies, so different from each other. J.T. is solid muscle mass, not as bulky as he was when he competitively fought mixed martial arts, but he’s still a trainer. He keeps himself in shape, with muscle definition worthy of a fitness magazine cover. Nico is four inches shorter, strong but lean, with a runner’s build. Those sexy hands of his are driving me crazy. When J.T. brings his four-day-old beard into play, I understand why they threw a spare blanket over our brown leather couch.

  J.T. nuzzles my stomach while Nico plays with my breasts. J.T.’s tongue dips into my navel and slides lower, over my mons to delve into the secrets that lie beyond. My clit begs for attention, but he skirts around it and goes for the good stuff, burying his face between my legs and fucking me senseless with his tongue.

  Oh, God. The beard. The one time that I tried to rub myself off with a luffa in the tub… well, it’s not even close.

  Anna was right. Again.

  I sigh my pleasure.

  Nico leans in for a kiss. I thrust my tongue past his lips and claim his mouth with the rhythm that I’m experiencing below, connecting the three of us.

  J.T. lifts his head long enough to speak. “Next time, I’m bringing toys. I’ve got some shopping to do, but you’ll love what’s coming.”

  I love what’s coming now. I’m hovering on the verge of an orgasm that’s been building since breakfast if J.T. would just cooperate.

  “Please,” I beg him. “Please. I’m so close.”

  Smiling, J.T. kisses the inside of my thigh then fastens his mouth over my clit, sucking hard enough to create his own vortex. Nico twists my nipples and pulls me over the edge, catching my cry in his mouth. I’m suddenly limp, boneless, unable to do more than sink into the cushions.

  The trouble is, there are two hard-ons needing attention.

  “Poor babies.” I reach for Nico’s lap, wrap my fingers around his erection, and fist him. Midstroke, I look at J.T. and lick my lips in blatant invitation. I don’t have to ask twice. Standing up, he leans over me and sinks his knees into the edge of the couch on either side of my legs, with his hands bracketing my head and the huge purple crown of his erection sliding past my chin, prodding my mouth, tempting me, a big, juicy plum that’s there for the taking. I part my lips and dip my tongue into his little slit, lapping at his pre-cum.

  But he wants more. He needs more.

  J.T. fists my hair, pulling hard enough to make my eyes water. “Suck it,” he growls.

  I know better than to tease him, not when there are so many ways that he could seek revenge. Like a good girl, I open wide, wider, feeling the length of polished steel sheath itself in my
mouth. He goes deep enough to prod the back, triggering my gag reflex. I’m trying not to throw up when he shakes his head and tsks. “Chica. What are we going to do with you?” He looks over at Nico. “She needs to be shown,” he tells him. “Can you?”

  Oh, wow. This will be a first for J.T. He’s only been intimate with women. I don’t know what he and Nico discussed, but J.T. is committed enough to making this relationship work, he’s willing to take one for the team. I can feel him steel his resolve, telling himself that it’s just a mouth. But part of him is curious, even a little aroused by the thought of engaging in something he was taught was taboo.

  Nico nods. J.T. pulls his cock out of my mouth, steps over, and lets Nico swallow his dick. “See?” he says, wrapping Nico’s long black hair in one fist so that I can see better. “Alignment,” he says. “Fuck, that’s good. Goddamn.”

  You don’t have to be a psychic to see that J.T.’s pleasure is genuine. He wasn’t expecting to like Nico’s blowjob quite this much. But with the surge of pleasure comes a voice from his subconscious, trying to make him feel guilty for enjoying it.

  Men don’t sleep with other men.

  And I’m thinking, until they do. Love knows no bounds. It defies race, politics, religion, and gender. Love transcends everything.

  The voice goes mute—for now, anyway.

  J.T. hisses when Nico buries his nose in his groin and reaches to twist his balls. Studying how Nico holds his head, I note the geometry of his lips and mouth, the alignment of his throat and neck that allows nine inches of length to go deep, where J.T. wants it. He holds, then pulls back to let Nico breathe before diving in again. J.T. sets the rhythm, his strokes becoming insistent, his hand fisted against Nico’s scalp while he literally fucks his mouth and the blanket beneath me soaks through.

  “Fuck.” J.T. explodes down Nico’s throat. Just as I’m feeling a little left out and wondering if I should have asked to share, Nico leans over and kisses me with a mouthful of cum.

  I swallow what I can and lick the rest off Nico’s face.

  J.T. pronounces it one of the hottest fucking things he’s ever seen. “If you’re that hungry, baby girl, you should take care of Nico. Show us what you’ve learned, chica.”

  Next thing I know, Nico’s lying on his left side against the back of our plus-size couch and I’m on my left side too, facing him, inverted, my mouth aligned with my neck, ready to receive. I wrap my right hand around his hip, part my lips, and let him sink into my mouth, inch by glorious inch. In this position, my gag reflex is reduced, but he can only go so deep before I can’t breathe and have to fight against panic, probably from a past-life facefuck that went horribly wrong. I surface for air, then go down again. This time, Nico dives too, between my legs, parting my folds with his fingers and stroking the length of my slit with his tongue.

  J.T. watches from his seat on the coffee table. Eventually, he leans in to join us. Shaping my bottom with his hands and spreading my cheeks, he wets his thumb and rims my most private of places, working the puckered opening and trying to get me to relax enough to let him in.

  Assplay, Anna calls it. Anal is her preferred form of sex, for birth control if nothing else, and she’s given me pointers. I’ve had six months to prepare for this. I knew what was coming. I needed to be able to handle two men and set out to do it. Anna was my personal shopper for dildos and anal plugs. I started small and worked my way up in size until I could handle the biggest ones in my back door, at least. Because I wanted Nico to pop my cherry, I’ve only used a vibrator in front and saved the dildos for behind.

  When it comes to anal sex, prep work makes all the difference. Knowing a few tricks helps. So does having an experienced partner who knows what he’s doing and can be trusted to not hurt you. J.T. hasn’t touched my tender box today except with his tongue. Considering the size of the last anal plug I tried, I figure I can stand his finger in my hole.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “I can’t wait to take you here. Can you feel it?”

  Just in case I can’t, he pulls out his thumb and pushes in two fingers. Then three.

  Shit.

  “Imagine both of us inside you, baby girl. Double penetration. Nico balls-deep in that sweet pussy of yours while I take this fine ass.”

  Nico’s cock twitches deep in my throat. J.T. scissors his fingers in a move that makes my pussy weep. I want more—need more—than this, but I can’t speak. I can’t breathe.

  I jerk back my head, releasing Nico’s cock with an audible pop and gasping like I’ve run a fucking marathon.

  “Christ, Nico. You should see this.”

  Me. Wet. Swollen. With hungry, hungry holes.

  “Fuck me,” I beg them, nuzzling Nico’s hairless balls. “Take me. Fill me. Please. I need you. Both of you. Together.”

  Looking at J.T., Nico waits for him to make the call. “Well,” he says finally. “Since she asked…”

  Nico plays with my long red hair while J.T. goes on a lube run. He washes his hands and returns from the master bedroom with a tube. “We’ll go slow,” he tells me. “Anything you can’t stand, say red. If I need to slow down, say yellow. Those are your safe words, baby girl. Promise me you’ll use them if you need to.”

  “I will. I promise,” I whisper, climbing to straddle Nico’s lap as he sits in the center of the sofa. While J.T. moves the coffee table to give him the room he needs, Nico grabs my hips, lifts me up, and impales me on his erection. It pinches, but not nearly as much as last night when I lost my hymen. After today, there won’t be a virginal bone left in this body.

  I feel a cool drizzle down my crack. A lubed finger taps my ass, seeking admittance. I push back, taking it in, and a second finger, while Nico waits, content to be buried to the hilt until J.T.’s cock joins us.

  When J.T. thinks I’m ready, he again washes his hands, getting them clean for the next round. He spreads lube on his length and fists himself. Keeping one foot on the floor between Nico’s feet, he puts his other foot on the couch beyond Nico’s thigh and positions himself behind me.

  “Ready, chica?” he murmurs, smoothing his hand over my curves and slapping my ass to make it jiggle.

  “When you’re done playing,” I gripe.

  I earn another spank for daring to complain.

  He spreads me with the thumb and index finger of one hand and uses his other hand to get the tip of his glans started into my puckered hole. Pressing down on my lower back to flatten it, he orders me to push back against him, but my movements are limited with Nico as deep as he is. I take hold of Nico’s shoulders and pull myself up, just enough to give me an extra inch or two to work with. J.T. follows me, refusing to give ground, flexing his hips until the head of his cock is fully inside me, cinched by my tight ring of muscle.

  It burns, but it’s nothing I can’t handle, so far, anyway.

  J.T. keeps at it, working his way deeper, inch by inch, while my heightened senses register the feel of being pinned between two hard-bodied men. I could so get addicted to this, the exotic mix of pleasure and pain with Nico’s length swelling inside me and J.T.’s cock tunneling in.

  “Fuck,” he rasps when he’s finally there. Bowing his back, he marks me, sinking his teeth into the flesh where my neck and shoulder meet.

  I whimper when his love bite makes my already-challenged asshole tighten around the base of his huge cock.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hold still, baby girl, before I’m tempted to cut loose on you.”

  The thought makes me moan. J.T. can no longer stay still. It’s all I can do to remember to breathe, with my face buried in Nico’s chest and two cocks forging inside me. It sears. It burns, but I am the phoenix, rising from the ashes, pressing my palms against Nico’s chest and pushing myself up, offering one man a vision, the other opportunity.

  J.T. seizes it, taking my breasts in his hands, pulling me back against his surging body, cupping my weight, teasing the tips, pulling and twisting my nipples in a motion that I feel down to my core.

&nbs
p; “Don’t come until she does,” he warns Nico. “She’s close.”

  He slides his right hand down and his left hand over, banding my chest with his forearm for a fresh assault on my nipple. The fingers of his right hand split so he can stroke my mound without interfering with Nico’s penetration. He rubs me, and I mewl when he finds my swollen clit.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, and grind down on them both, impaling myself until I’m filled to the brim with hard male flesh. Twenty-two years, I’ve wandered, empty and alone, but no more, dammit. And never again. Not now that we’ve finally found each other.

  “Come for me.” J.T. pinches my clit and sends me spiraling. Nico bucks beneath me, and I feel pulsing streams of hot jism flood my cunt. Driven to finish with us, J.T. groans and spills his load, emptying himself in my depths.

  “I need a bath,” I tell them when I can speak again.

  “Shower,” J.T. grunts in my ear. “You’re staying with us this time.”

  He carefully slips free of me and pulls me off Nico. Scooping me up, he carries me effortlessly into the master bedroom en-suite before he sets me down. “Stool,” he says, more aware of what’s happening than I am.

  I throw up the lid and sit in time to spare the floor the worst of the fluids obeying the law of gravity.

  Feeling icky enough without a witness, I throw J.T. my version of an evil glare. He laughs it off but gives me privacy anyway, content that he has me tamed. When I seem to be done voiding, I flush the toilet, turn on the shower, and step inside, amazed that there’s enough strength left in my legs to stand.

  Even if there wasn’t, I needn’t worry. Joining me, J.T. and Nico have my back and my front. They won’t let me fall.

  I never realized how treasured that four male hands could make me feel. They cherish my body as they clean me with twenty soapy fingers, two walled pads of muscled chest, and a terrycloth square. J.T. pays special attention to my tender private parts, concerned that we’ve done too much, too soon.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, hissing when he hits a sore spot.

  “Yeah, right.” He mocks me, and Nico laughs.