by Lana Ames
“How is this?” he asked.
I tugged at it, testing, pulling. “I suppose you must, if you want me to hold still.”
“I do, I really do.” He watched me a moment longer, making sure it was okay, and then restrained my left ankle. “Not too tight?”
“No. Perfect.”
He fastened each ankle restraint to the footboard, spreading my legs wide. I could still wriggle, but otherwise my range of motion was much reduced. Desire pounded through me. I felt my face flush with it, and my veins fill with it.
Jorge got off the bed and stood over me, gazing down at me. “I don’t know whether to fuck you or draw you,” he said, his voice husky and almost pained. “You’re…amazing.”
I stared back at him, arching up as much as I could. “Well, I know what my vote is.”
“Compromise,” he suddenly said, reaching for his phone. He swiped it open and snapped a few quick pictures, then tossed it aside. “For later.”
“Yes, oh yes,” I breathed.
Then he climbed slowly back onto the bed, crawling till he was over me once more, though somehow barely touching me. His dark brown eyes bored into mine as he studied my face—half artist, half lover. He leaned down and gave me a gentle, soft kiss, then drew back up again.
I twisted beneath him, trying to reach up, but I could do so very little. This was all his game. I didn’t even speak, instead just conveying my desire with my eyes. And my breath, and my squirming hips, and…
His luscious lips twisted up into a smile. “Ah, such a beautiful creature, so helpless beneath me. What shall I do with you?”
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
“Hmm. I like that idea.” He shifted, leaning down just a little, and placed his gorgeous cock right at my opening. Instead of entering me, though, he reached down and took hold of his shaft, massaging the tip of his cock against my slick wetness. “Like this?”
“More,” I sighed. “In me, put it in me.”
“Put what in you?” His eyes were light and teasing. He was going to make me say it. He was going to make me beg for it.
“Put your cock in me. Please.”
“Like this?” He inched it forward, putting just the tip inside me. I squirmed and arched and reached, trying to take him deeper, but he eased back as I did so, keeping himself just…barely…there.
I groaned in maddened frustration. “More! Fuck me, put it all the way in!”
Jorge chuckled, giving me another inch. One measly, stingy inch, and then he pulled his whole cock back out again. “Such a greedy girl, for one who’s already had, hmm, three orgasms? Four? A dozen?”
“Who can count them?” I managed. “More!”
He eased forward again. Maybe three inches this time, then back out. So slowly.
Back in. Back out. A slow, gentle, torturous caress.
Maybe a little deeper. Or maybe I was just losing my mind. I met his rhythm as best I could, but he kept teasing, slowing down when I tried to speed up, then suddenly giving me a half-inch more. “You feel very nice,” he whispered, still grinning down at me. “I could do this all day.”
“Noooo,” I moaned. “You’ll kill me.”
Now he gave a broad smile. “Ah, poor creature.” And he—at last, at last!—took his hand away and eased his cock slowly down all the way into me, sinking to the hilt.
I almost came right then, it felt so amazing, so incredible. The sparks took off through my veins, making it hard to breathe for a moment; my vision was all purple fire, flames licking everywhere. But then he was pulling back out again—and then in again, still so slow, but steady now, like he meant it. His right hand, now free, moved up to my breast, cupping it, then flicking a finger across the nipple.
I squirmed and tugged my limbs against the restraints, wishing I could grab him and pull him tight to me, could wrap my legs around his strong, slender waist; but I was trapped, essentially motionless…just a captive to be fucked.
He fucked harder, a little faster. He began to moan softly, his breath coming in little gasps periodically, his hand clutching my breast as if he was holding on for dear life; I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and on his upper lip. I wanted to lick them away, oh god I wanted to taste them…but now he had his eyes closed and was just fucking me. He caught a rhythm and kept it, his hips moving easily against me, his cock filling me deeply. He still kept most of the rest of his weight up off me, holding himself with his elbows, as if he would hurt me. As if he could hurt me.
I fucked him back, moving as much as I could, welcoming him in me, thrusting harder and harder against him. Our breaths matched as we panted faster, faster. I too closed my eyes, letting the sensations fill me, finally just giving in to this crazy, fantastic journey I was on, letting him have his way with me.
Now he was pounding into me, driving hard, pinning me to the bed with his marvelous cock, letting up only to pin me again, faster, harder. I could see his eyelids flutter and I could feel his orgasm build, like I had with his twin, only sooner this time; our energies met, swelled, grew; I was being shattered, I was over the edge…
I came, screaming with pent-up desire and pleasure and ecstasy, the purple fire exploding within me, soaring through me and into Jorge, who came with a shout to match mine, filling me with his magical essence, making us all one—yes, us all, for in that moment I felt my other two lovers, I felt Mahlen and Javier, though they were not in the room, they were here with me, with us, we were all united…
And the waves and waves of my orgasm pummeled me, sending me even higher, when I thought I’d already fallen over; I peaked again, gasping for breath, opened wide, wide to the universe, helpless to control a thing…
It was a while before I truly came back to myself. I had almost forgotten I was tied up; I’d gone so deeply into the sensations roiling through me, through us both.
“My god, woman,” Jorge breathed, lying beside me on the bed, still breathing hard. When had he moved off of me? I didn’t even remember that.
It worried me, just a little.
“I know,” I sighed, turning my head to smile at him.
He smiled back, but he looked shaken too. “I’ve never experienced anything like that, not even remotely.”
I took a deep breath. “This…is kind of all new ground for me too.”
He reached up from where he was lying and unfastened the restraint holding my right wrist to the headboard.
“Ooh, thanks,” I said, slowly bringing my arm down. It had felt beyond amazing to be held down like that…but my arm was thankful for the increased range of motion now. I felt little prickles of life returning to it, though it hadn’t entirely fallen asleep.
“Seems only gentlemanly to let you go, now that I’ve had my way with you,” Jorge teased, moving down the bed to free my right ankle, then the left one.
I wiggled my legs, letting them wake up too as he went up and undid the final wrist. “Well, I do appreciate it, kind sir.”
We were flirting, bantering…yet it was forced. I could tell that we were both a little blown away by the sex we’d just had. Amazing, astonishing sex, and I wasn’t the least bit sorry about it…I just didn’t quite understand it.
All my limbs now free, I sat up in the bed and looked over at Jorge. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking back at me. “Okay,” he said at last. “I…wasn’t even actually intending to do that, just now. I mean, I wanted so badly to fuck you, but I honestly thought we were coming upstairs to get your phone, and so I could sketch you in that dress. I thought the lovemaking would come…later, maybe. This evening. I don’t know.” He looked at me helplessly. “Mahlen and Javier are just downstairs—waiting for us?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I mean, we did tell them we might be a while. And they seemed to understand…” I cast my mind back. Yes, there was at least the hint of what we might be up to. But had I expected it? “If my phone’s charged up by now, I should really call Emma. I think I need to talk to her.”
Jorge
leaned forward and gave me a kiss, then settled back with a serious look on his gorgeous face. “If magic truly is real, then I’m pretty sure that’s what we just experienced.” He paused, then added, “And…I’m not entirely sure it’s good for us.”
Chapter Eight
I knew I needed to talk to Emma. But first, I decided to finally get that shower—alone—and reassemble myself into my own clothes. By the time I did that, and found where Jorge had plugged in my phone, I saw that its battery was at a hundred percent…and that there were four increasingly desperate messages from Emma Foster.
I sat alone on the bed in Jorge’s bedroom, listening to the messages. My heart pounded, and not from lust this time.
In the last one, she sounded nearly panicked: “Grace, please, call me! I need to know you’re all right.”
I punched her number; she answered before the first ring had stopped. “Grace, thank god.” Her voice was heavy with relief. “Are you okay?”
“Yes—no—I’m not sure,” I said. “I…everything’s been weird, pretty much since we had coffee on Monday.”
She exhaled. “I knew it. Oh, god. Where are you?”
I told her the neighborhood. “I’m not sure the exact address,” I added. “Why?”
“We need to talk, and it sounds like you’re not far. You need to get back here to the mansion, you and—whoever you’re with.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re in danger. We all are.”
I glanced around this well-kept, peaceful room, and the bright studio beyond it. “Danger? How?”
“I don’t think we should talk about it over the phone. Do you remember where the mansion is?”
“I do. At least, my phone does.”
“Good. Get here as fast as you can. Promise me you’re coming.”
“I promise,” I said, feeling a cold pit of fear in my belly. And, oddly, a hint of the magenta fire, wrapping around it.
Downstairs, I found all three men in the kitchen, trying to look all busy and occupied and not like they had been having a worried conversation about me. “Well?” Jorge asked. A pile of sandwiches was stacked on the island in front of him.
“Emma wants us all to go to Lady Periwinkle’s mansion—as soon as possible.”
“What’s going on?” Mahlen said. He came and pulled me into his arms.
I leaned into him, breathing his sweet scent, enjoying the sense of safety and rightness that came with being here. Why wasn’t this one amazing man enough for me? What was going on?
“I don’t know—she doesn’t want to talk about it on the phone. But she sounds very worried, she says we’re in danger and that we should all go there, fast. What do you guys think?”
Mahlen kissed the top of my head and released me. “Jorge made sandwiches.”
“No sense running into danger on an empty stomach,” Jorge quipped, but again, he sounded troubled.
I started to protest that I was still full from the ample breakfast, but then realized I wasn’t. It had been some hours, and I’d had, er, quite a bit of exercise in the interim. “Okay,” I relented. “But quickly.”
Jorge leapt into action, grabbing plates and handing around tall turkey-and-avocado sandwiches, with sides of dill pickle and curled radish slices, less than a minute later. “And if anyone wants more, I’ve got potato salad, and oranges, and…”
“This is perfect, thanks.” I took a quick bite. “This is amazing, actually, but we need to eat and go.” Emma’s concern, coupled with the bad feeling I had, worried me.
~*~*~*~
Minutes after that, we all piled into Javier’s fancy car. From the front seat, I pulled up the directions on my phone and told him where to go.
We were heading to the mansion where this had all began.
It looked different in the daylight, but we had no trouble finding the place. Javier pulled into the round driveway; a uniformed attendant stepped out and opened the passenger door. “Ms. French?”
“Yes.”
“Just leave the keys; Ms. Foster is waiting for you all just inside.”
“Thank you.”
The mansion’s grand front door was open. I walked in, followed by my three men. Emma grabbed my arm just as we got inside. “Thank god,” she said again, closing the heavy door behind us. “Come this way.”
We followed her into the ballroom…or what I had thought was the ballroom. It looked entirely different than it had the night of the costume party: much smaller, with groupings of cozy furniture placed here and there. Had they moved walls or something? I paused in the doorway, confused.
“Come on,” said Emma, pulling on my arm. “Away from the front door is safer.”
I stopped, not liking being tugged at. “Emma, what’s going on?”
“I might ask you the same thing. But over here.” She let go of my arm and stalked over to a cluster of chairs by a small fireplace I didn’t remember from the party.
I turned and looked at Mahlen, Javier, and Jorge; their confusion reflected mine, though theirs wasn’t about the arrangement of furniture. I shrugged and followed Emma.
“Have a seat,” she said, motioning us all to chairs, though she remained standing—pacing, actually. I sat down, but then her nervous energy unnerved me and I got up again. My men took seats, watching me for direction.
Emma paced past the fireplace, then stopped and looked me in the eye, deeply, keenly.
I stared back at her, wondering what she was looking for—what she was seeing. At last, she leaned back a bit, frowning. “What is it?” I asked.
“It’s clear you’re building your own harem,” she said, giving the men a mere glance before returning her dark gaze to me. “When you told me you had no intention of doing so.”
I shook my head, though not in denial, it was obvious enough. “It was true, I didn’t intend to. But it’s been really weird…I’m not myself. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t seem to have a lot of control over things.” I paused. “None of us seem to.”
Her expression grew even more grim. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”
“All right.” I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to begin—though it wasn’t as if I was going to shock her. As far as I could tell, this whole crazy thing had been her doing…somehow. So why was she so upset now? Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? “But…can we maybe talk just the two of us?”
“Actually, yes,” Emma said, taking my arm again. “I need you with me…and with the lady. I’ll send my men down to start talking with yours. We need everyone up to speed as fast as possible.”
I looked back at ‘my men’ as Emma began hauling me out of the room. “I’ll find you guys later,” I said. Mahlen nodded, looking dumbstruck; the twins followed suit, and then we were gone.
Emma brought me through the big room and out into a hallway, then up a lovely wide staircase. This led to another long hallway. “Start talking,” she ordered.
As we hurried down this hallway, I told her as quickly as I could about Mahlen, and about meeting his good friends the twins while we were out at dinner on our date. And then about…the next night. Last night. And this morning.
“So I suddenly have three guys, with whom I’ve had super-hot, like insanely hot, sex with. And they’re all totally not weirded out or jealous about it. I mean, Jorge seemed a bit weirded out at the intensity of our sex, and the timing caught us a little by surprise, but everyone seems just fine about the sharing. But I have…just this bad feeling about things. Above and beyond the fact that this is just completely not like me.”
She nodded, looking even more worried than before. “You’ve slept with three guys on three subsequent days,” she said. We were approaching the end of the hall, where there was a set of ornate, gold-leafed double doors.
“Yeah—I guess so.”
“That’s good, at least.” She got to the door and paused, stopping to look at me again. “So your harem is three-quarters built. Who have you picked for your fourth man?”
Emma gave me a grim look. “Grace. Listen to me. You’ve set the enchantment in motion—I don’t know how, or how the men found you so quickly—but you cannot, can not, stop it now. With only three men, the cohort is at its most unstable. You’re all vulnerable to Mundon—the demon…” Her eyes widened as her voice trailed off. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Oh my god. No.” She knocked on the door. There was no response; she knocked again, louder, almost frantic. “No!”
“What?”
She shook her head. “Oh, this is bad, Grace. Very bad.”
Before I could respond, she flung open the ornate doors and rushed inside. And screamed.
I ran into the room behind her. “Emma! What is it?” Then I stopped, and gasped.
The room was huge, and furnished entirely in purple—periwinkle. Carpet, wallpaper, rumpled up bedspread, even pictures on the wall.
The only thing that marred the effect was the big bloodstain on the floor.
Emma wheeled back and faced me, her face pale, her lips trembling. “Oh fuck. This is bad. Lady Periwinkle has been struck down—like the demon did to you—she’s been unconscious here. We’ve been keeping her safe. We thought.”
“What…?” I could only gape at the bloodstain. The very rumpled bed. My gaze rushed to the windows, looking for signs of a break-in, but they were closed, the purple curtains hanging neatly by their sides.
“Where is she?” Emma said, her voice panicked. She went to the bed and pushed the covers aside. As though Lady Periwinkle were somehow hiding under a scrap of sheet. As though that was not her blood on the floor… Emma turned slowly back around to face me. “Mundon must have her. Oh my god. He came right into her bedroom, her inner sanctum, and stole her away. I have no idea how he managed it…”
“How could this be possible?” My heart pounded; surely it would burst from all this stress.
