by Emma Holly
Georgie shook her head laughingly. “I have a better idea.” She mimed pulling off a shirt, after which her gaze hooked Connor’s. They weren’t just lovers. They were long-time friends. Messages passed between them that didn’t require words. Connor’s blood heated in his veins, his cock stirring with a fresh knock of arousal. “You’ll keep Iksander entertained while I get ready?”
“That would be my pleasure,” he promised.
Chapter 2
Iksander was unaccustomed to being treated as if he weren’t the most important male in the room. Georgie and Connor had no particular awe of him—a circumstance he should have expected, given that they weren’t djinn or his subjects. Though their independence was unfamiliar, he couldn’t swear he hated it. They owed him nothing—not gratitude or subservience.
If they wanted him, they wanted him.
That wasn’t chopped liver, as humans said.
“You heard the lady,” Connor said, holding out his hand to him. “Let’s leave Georgie to her primping while I make sure you don’t get bored.”
Boredom seemed unlikely, considering the chills of anticipation currently sweeping along his limbs. Iksander let go of Georgie and took the angel’s grip. Connor tugged him along with his usual boyish enthusiasm. For a second, Iksander resisted. He spoke over his shoulder.
“Pick something that makes you blush,” he advised their shared lover.
Georgie gave him a startled nod. Her agreement pleased him. Some obedience would always be welcome.
Back by his bed, he and the angel pulled off their clothes. Connor’s body was still a novelty. Though the vessel the angel inhabited was human, his skin was djinni smooth. His muscles bulged beneath it, his movements unselfconscious and graceful. When he dragged his shirt off by its back collar, his chest was drover-broad. For a moment, Iksander pictured him herding sheep down a dusty road. Connor had that look about him: a guileless peasant living simply off the land. Past experience taught him the angel wasn’t that simple.
Or that innocent, actually.
“You’re falling behind,” Connor kidded, leaning on the bed area’s balustrade to bend and remove his shoes. A tiny crease appeared on his flat stomach. “Not that helping you catch up wouldn’t interest me.”
Though he might have liked that too, Iksander shook himself and continued to undress. He toed off his slippers and slid his silk trousers down. He shouldn’t have felt as shy as he did relinquishing that final covering.
His pulse seemed to patter beneath every inch of skin.
“You’re nervous,” Connor observed and grinned. “That’s sweet.”
“We haven’t done this that many times.”
Still smiling, Connor stretched both athletic arms above his head, lengthening and loosening his muscles. His body hair was dark gold, the tufts beneath his arms somehow as erotic as the thatch between his legs. His cock was half erect and rising. Iksander couldn’t help but be fascinated by the lift and thickening of his shaft.
“Shall I try to make you more comfortable?” Connor asked.
“What?”
Connor laughed at his distraction. “Would you like my help getting past your nerves? I could spank you, perhaps. Or tie you up.”
Iksander had admitted previously to enjoying a bit of pain with his pleasure. As of yet, they hadn’t really explored this.
“You like employing bondage,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound casual.
“I like being in charge.” The angel flashed white teeth. “As you already know from spying on Georgie and me together, before we were a threesome.”
“I never spied on you! You two went at it like minks. I had no choice but to be aware of what you did.”
For whatever reason, the burst of anger caused Iksander’s penis to surge to full hardness. The thing was pounding now, high and demanding. Connor rubbed one finger across his curving mouth as his gaze slid appreciatively to it. “As I recall, you once claimed spanking was for women.”
“That wasn’t an invitation,” Iksander snapped. “Spanking isn’t a fantasy of mine.”
Connor nodded. “You like your pain a bit more forceful. A nice manly lashing or something along those lines.”
His mind returned to the image of Connor driving a flock of sheep. The sultan believed drovers used sticks for this purpose. Whippy branches possibly. With the bark peeled off.
“Well, that got a response.” Connor laughed at his involuntary shiver. “No, don’t get all poker-spined again. You know I don’t judge you.”
“Sometimes you’re a bit too humorous,” Iksander said crisply.
Connor tried unsuccessfully to wipe away his smile. “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms. “Kiss me and let me know I’m forgiven.”
It would have been bad manners to refuse. Iksander stepped to the angel and took his shoulders between his hands. The skin his thumbs caressed was hot, just beginning to perspire. Connor palmed Iksander’s hipbones and then his rear. Though their erections didn’t touch, the vibration of arousal crossed the space between them. Ready for more but not prepared to ask, Iksander wet his lips.
Connor stroked their outline with one finger. “Georgie would happily spank you, but if your heart is set on a lashing, I fear you’ll have to rely on me.”
Iksander swallowed, the moment demanding honesty. “I want everything the three of us can do together.”
The admission freed him, his hesitation falling away at last. With a delicious sense of abandon, he brought their hard male bodies into contact. He needn’t have worried whether Connor would welcome this. The angel sighed with pleasure, wrapping Iksander in his arms and meeting his open mouth. The greedy kiss fired Iksander’s nerves. Their tongues did battle, their cocks sliding side by side. Connor’s hands caressed his back with inspiring fervency. Iksander meant to match his boldness, but excitement sidetracked him. His muscles twitched, his pulse racing crazily as he accepted what Connor gave.
After wet, blistering minutes of exploration, the angel tore free to nip his shoulder.
“God,” he panted against the muscle, seeming overcome by desire.
That Iksander could do this to a celestial being made him feel like a conqueror.
Connor pulled his head back to look at him. The men were nearly the same height. Connor’s heaven blue eyes glowed like a djinni’s. Usually, his gaze peered straight into any soul. This time, Iksander thought he could read the angel’s.
“Yes,” he said, stroking the sides of his gorgeous sculpted face. “I want you as much as I want her.”
Connor’s expression turned slightly shocked.
Iksander laughed softly. “What? Didn’t you realize you cared?”
“I suppose I didn’t.” Connor’s mouth turned down. “It’s true I’ve been jealous once or twice, but I shouldn’t be competitive. That you want me at all is nice.”
“Maybe you have more ordinary being in your nature than you thought.”
“Maybe I do.” He seemed about to say more when his eyes widened at something behind Iksander. “Wow. I think you might want to turn around.”
Iksander turned and a fresh jolt of lust hit him. Georgie had returned in the outfit she’d chosen.
The garments—a long-sleeved tunic and broad-legged pants—mixed blue and silver shades. They cinched at her waist with a jeweled cummerbund. Had the fabric not been mist-thin, the ensemble would have been modest. Instead, silk flowed like water around her bare body, fluttering softly with air currents. Through this transparent shield, he could see every inch of her.
Her breasts swayed as she halted beyond arm’s reach.
Caught off guard, he struggled to swallow. Her nipples were flushed and tight, her navel enticing. Barely concealed by sheer cloth, her ruddy pubic curls stole his breath. Perhaps this should have surprised him. He’d seen such seductive wear before. Then again, he’d never seen it on her. The leafy tattoo sleeving her left arm reminded him that—however traditionally dressed she might be—she was exotic.
Unable to resist, his gaze raked down her legs for good measure.
When had the shape of her toned limbs become the ultimate in sexiness to him?
“I hope you like this,” Georgie said, shyly smoothing the tunic’s knee-length front. “It’s not a dress, but I think it’s feminine. Yasmin and the others were generous. The workmanship is amazing. I swear I can’t find a stitch or seam anywhere.”
“That would be the seamstress’s magic.” Iksander’s voice came out gravelly. Evidently, he couldn’t pull off casual around either of his lovers.
“Literal magic, I guess,” she laughed.
“Yes,” was all he managed in answer.
“Well, it fits,” she said. “And I listened to your and Connor’s comment. As you can see, these swirly patterns are made of little pearls and diamonds.”
“I only noticed you.”
Her grin said his confession pleased her. “I could keep it on if you like. The trousers aren’t sewn together at the crotch.”
“I vote yes,” Connor said. “You make a scrumptious harem girl.”
Connor was joking, but what if she really were a concubine? The thought disconcerted him. Georgie came from a different culture. Harem life would stifle her. Still . . . would he mind if she were his to do with as he pleased?
For once, Connor wasn’t following his train of thought. “Iksander and I were having a debate before you came in.”
Georgie snorted. “That’s how people ‘debate’ here?”
“Before the kissing. We were discussing what would loosen him up the most: bondage, spanking, or maybe a few lashes.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Iksander said hastily. He shifted his weight, vaguely aware that—despite his uneasiness—his arousal had leaped again. “Perhaps Georgie would like the place of honor. I’m sure we men would enjoy focusing on her.”
“No, no, no,” Connor said. “You’re not squirming out of the spotlight that easy.”
“I’m hardly afraid of being in the—”
Connor’s arm struck out as swiftly as a cobra, his palm sharply stinging the sultan’s face. Utterly astonished, Iksander covered the spot and gasped. “What the hell was that?”
“Would you like another?” Connor asked pleasantly.
Georgie was by his side already. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Iksander dropped his hand from his cheek slowly. “I . . . am unharmed. Connor put more noise into that than force.”
“You aren’t bruised,” Georgie said, peering at the place. “Unless that’s because djinn heal quickly.”
“Georgie.” Connor’s scold sounded disappointed.
“I am unharmed,” Iksander repeated, still breathless. “He only struck me hard enough to sting. Hard enough to get me going.”
His voice sank an octave to tell her that. Georgie’s eyes dropped, her lips parting in surprise when she saw how brutally stiff his erection was.
“Well,” she said, short of breath now herself. She tore her gaze back to her boyfriend. “You shouldn’t have scared me like that. I don’t like the thought of you hitting him in anger.”
“I wouldn’t,” Connor said. “I only wanted him to relax.”
“You enjoyed that?” she asked Iksander, wanting to be sure.
A thrill ran through him when he saw she wasn’t necessarily calling a halt to this. “I did. It was perfect.”
She touched his face on the opposite side from where Connor had struck him. She was studying his expression, deciding inside herself. Her palm slid down the cords of his neck, over his front, and finally to his groin. Though he knew the caress was coming, he sucked in air as she stroked his cock upward. Her fingers held his thickness firmly, her pull and squeeze not at all hesitant. When she reached the tip, her thumb circled his cock’s head. The pressure she used was hard, the wetness his prick was spilling all that kept the sensitive skin from burning.
“Georgie,” he gasped, so wound up he was pounding.
“Connor’s right,” she responded. “The only solution to get you past this . . . uptightness is him taking charge of you.”
Iksander shivered. Was Connor taking charge or was she? He wasn’t sure he knew. Connor would never displease her.
“If you’d be so kind,” the angel said to her politely. “You could lead him to the bed.”
Georgie was so kind. She opened the little gate that separated the sleeping platform from the rest of the room. A gesture of her arm and a crooked smile told him to climb up.
“What’s this?” she asked, catching sight of an object on the floor. She bent—a pretty image, given her filmy garb. When she straightened, she held a padded leather cuff attached to length of chain. She smiled archly. “Is this yours, Your Majesty?”
He opened his mouth. He knew damn well he hadn’t left that there. The toys he’d collected over the years had for the most part never been removed from their box, a stash he concealed in the far back of his closet. He’d lacked the nerve to share them with his kadin. They’d seemed too boundary pushing. The only people who could have tried them out were this suite’s last inhabitants, the trio who’d kept the city safe in his absence. Clearly, they’d discovered his hiding place. Arcadius and his friends weren’t gossips, but neither did it feel appropriate to tell Georgie someone else had played here recently.
“The chain is mine,” he confessed.
Repressing the complicated flaming of his cheeks was impossible.
“There’s a cuff for the other wrist over here,” Connor said cheerfully. “And two for his ankles. They’re anchored to eyebolts on the floor.”
“Handy.” Georgie’s lavender eyes twinkled. “Why don’t you lie back and we’ll secure you?”
There was no reason to resist. He wanted what was coming, and they did too. Even so, his limbs felt strange as he assumed a spread out position. Pillows propped his back and head, his bed as comfortable as he remembered. Georgie and Connor hooked him in after some fumbling, not realizing at first that the cuffs required a spell to shut and tighten.
“You can get out if you want?” Connor asked. “Just smoke free if the urge hits you?”
He nodded, his teeth clamped against speaking. The idea of changing form in this particular context was too carnally charged for him.
Connor patted his arm reassuringly. Georgie moved to stand at the bed’s other side.
“He’s so beautiful lying there.” She glanced up at the fixture Connor had swung from earlier. “Dusk is falling. I don’t want to do this in the dark, but I think all those chandelier lights would be too bright.”
“What about this?” Connor indicated a torchère not far from them. Fat white candles sat on its silver arms, held secure by carved acanthus leaves. “Maybe Iksander could light them magically.”
“If you wish,” he said.
The angel had sufficient power to work the charm himself—more than, chances were. Possibly Connor wanted to involve the sultan in the unfolding scene, to ensure he gave consent. For his part, the sultan had no doubts about his safety . . . or the strength of his desire. He lit the wicks all at once, with a push that was as easy as exhaling.
The flames were soft, the flickering romantic.
He fought a smile. Of the pair, Connor seemed to pay more attention to such things.
“Pretty,” Georgie praised as Connor lifted one beeswax pillar free.
Maybe he’d been wrong about the angel doing this for romance. Iksander had assumed he meant to set the candle next to the bed, to bring the light closer. Instead, Connor held it in both hands, cradling it with the glow illuminating his serene face. For no reason he could pin down, the nerves of Iksander’s tailbone hummed.
“Djinn like hot things?” Connor asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed, a slight breathiness thickening his voice. “As you know, we’re created of smokeless fire.”
“I’ve heard—” The angel stopped and then continued. “Some humans like having melted wax poured on them as foreplay. T
he drops burn at first, but it’s supposed to be sensual. Do you think you’d enjoy it?”
A quick involuntary shudder rippled across his shoulders. Iksander gripped the chains that held him to stop it. “Yes. I expect I would.”
“You haven’t done it before?”
He shook his head.
Connor smiled—not put off by this, he guessed. “Good. I’d like to be the first.”
He clambered onto the bed, his extravagant erection lending interest to the action. “Coming?” he asked Georgie.
She was biting her lower lip. “I want to try a spell. To make sure he won’t get hurt.”
Iksander hadn’t been worried, but her concern touched him. “Do as you will, Georgie.”
She climbed up on his other side, sitting on her heels and closing her eyes to compose herself. Her lips moved, but he didn’t hear what she said. He hoped her charm wasn’t too ambitious. Sometimes Georgie’s power ran ahead of her intentions.
Her lashes lifted. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
“Are you ready?” Connor asked Iksander.
When he nodded, Connor swung over him on his knees, his gaze on Iksander as he tipped the candle. Wax had pooled clear and shining around the wick. Iksander hissed as the stream spilled over and hit him. The burn was brief—barely lasting as long as the paraffin took to harden on his sternum. His body was made to handle this treatment. More than handle it, truthfully. A moment after the pain registered, a burst of arousal replaced it.
He squirmed at the pleasurable sensations, his hips bumping the inside of Connor’s thighs.
“More?” Connor asked.
“Please,” he said huskily.
Connor flushed, the color beautiful on his sweet features. Tormenting Iksander stirred him too. He tipped the candle more carefully this time. A second line of wax crossed the first. Iksander gasped at this fresh sting and the subsequent surge of excitement. His desire felt too big to contain. He wanted to kiss the angel, wanted to tear free of his bonds and fuck him and Georgie too. Her hand had fallen to his inner forearm, her fingertips lightly petting the sensitive skin. He didn’t dare look at her. If she were as aroused as Connor, he’d never control himself.
