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Jean-Claude stayed sitting at the foot of the bed. He made no move to join us. I looked at him, that careful face. He'd made his position clear. He didn't just want to watch. I'd never tried to entertain three of the men at once. Cuddling, blood sharing, but not for sex.
I went to him where he sat so still, his back touching the foot of the bed. He'd gone as far away as he could without leaving the bed. Had he thought I would make him watch and not touch him? The very blankness of his face said yes, he had. I had a memory, not a vision, just a memory. It just didn't happen to be my memory, not originally. I saw Belle in her big bed, so similar to this one. She had two other vampires with her. I was watching her from the foot of the bed where she had tied me to the posts. I could feel the pull in my shoulders where the ropes were a little too high for comfort. But she didn't want me comfortable. She wanted me punished. Tied to her bed where she had taught me, us, what true desire could be. Bound, helpless, knowing that I could not touch her, and that no one would touch me. When we'd been far away from her, we could resist wanting her, but standing there, smelling her skin and sweat, we couldn't help but want her. She was an addiction, and the only way to save yourself was to never take another drink, another hit, another taste of her. I fought free of the memory enough to think, Jean-Claude had been tied to that bed, not me. Too tall to be my body. Too male. Not me, but the memory still burned, still had the power to make his face close down to that carefulness.
I touched his face, and I let my face show how sorry I was that all those awful things had happened to him. So sorry that I hadn't been there to save him. We were shut down too tight behind our shields for him to read my mind, probably just as well, but he saw what I meant him to see. He came to me with a sigh that was almost a sob. He kissed me as if he would breathe me in through his lips, and I kissed him as if he were the last drop of water in the world and I were dying of thirst.
I tasted the sweet metal of blood in my mouth. It made him draw back from the kiss. "I am sorry, ma petite . . ."
I stopped his apology with a kiss, feeding at his mouth, and he fell into that kiss with his hands on my body, his nakedness pressed as tight to mine as it could be. The only reason his body did not respond was that it couldn't until he fed.
I drew back from the kiss, my breathing ragged, the taste of my own blood in my mouth. A drop of blood grew and trembled on my lower lip.
He kissed that drop away, and stared down at me, as he knelt in front of me. His face was fierce and full of some wonder, as if I'd done something amazing. I hadn't. I'd just finally decided to get out of my own way; out of everyone's way.
I moved back along the bed, with his hand in mine. I pulled him along with me, on our knees, until we reached Micah and Nathaniel's feet. One of the things I'd noticed in dealing with more than one man in bed at a time was there were only two ways to go about it. Choice one: the men took turns, completely separate lovemaking, except that they both got to watch each other have sex with me. Choice two: they both touched me at the same time, and they did foreplay, or more, with me at the same time. Choice two was harder to choreograph. Harder on the egos involved. It took more concentration on my part. It was just a higher level of skills needed all around, and a larger dose of secure masculinity, too. I realized now, after Auggie, that there was a choice three, but I didn't think any of us was up to it tonight. I knew I wasn't. I had no idea how to even raise the question to Micah and Nathaniel: would they kiss another man? I mean, when did this sound like a good conversation to have? Never, I think.
I let go of Jean-Claude's hand, leaving him kneeling, while I lay down between the other two men. I traced a hand down their bodies until I touched the smooth heads, the skin so soft but the flesh underneath so hard, so firm.
Micah made a soft sound as my hand smoothed over the top of him. I looked up at Nathaniel and found his face intent on me. His eyes bright and eager, alit with anticipation. A gentle caress wouldn't do it for him. I had to still my hand on Micah, to wrap my hand around Nathaniel, and squeeze hard. It fluttered his eyes shut and forced small noises from his mouth. I'd found that I could play with two at once if the pressure was the same for both hands, but if one man needed something different, I had to concentrate separately. Micah could rev up to a level that was close to Nathaniel's preference, but it took time to get Micah in that headspace. Nathaniel came out of the box wanting rougher handling than most men ever liked.
I went back to playing with both of them at the same time, running my hand up and down the shaft of them, sliding over the head, firm, but gentle. Too hard, and most men experienced the pressure as discomfort; too gentle and it wasn't enough stimulation. It had taken me a while to find a happy medium.
I loved the sensation of my hand running up and down and around all that velvet muscle. It made me close my eyes, arch my back with the anticipation of it. When I could focus again, I gazed up at Jean-Claude. He knelt where I'd left him, close enough to touch us, but not touching anyone.
"I want you in my mouth while I play with them."
He looked at Micah and Nathaniel. "Does everyone agree to this, for I will have to be very close to both of you, to be in the position that she requests?"
I tightened my grip on both the men, just enough to make their eyes flutter shut.
"Non, ma petite, that is cheating. Let them go long enough for them to answer without your so-persuasive touch."
I mumbled, "Sorry." I put my hands on my stomach, and behaved.
Micah swallowed hard enough for me to hear it, then nodded. "I'm fine with it."
Nathaniel smiled that lazy cat-with-cream smile that he got sometimes during sex. It usually meant he was going to suggest something that I'd never done, or that we'd never done together, or he was going to make some observation. "I just want to see if she can concentrate on all of us at once. I give it a difficulty rating of eight."
I frowned at him. "Are you saying I've never attempted anything that took more skill than an eight before?"
He shrugged. "Remember I did this professionally for a while. My ten on this scale is probably stuff that you don't even want to know is physically possible."
I opened my mouth to ask him, Like what? but decided that he was right. I probably didn't want to know.
"Let's try," I said.
Jean-Claude didn't ask again. He simply crawled over my body. He ended with his legs over my shoulders, so that he was sitting in front of my face, which put him exactly where I wanted him. I traced my hands across the other two bodies. Nathaniel turned on his side first, and Micah followed him. That gave me a better angle, since my movement was about to become limited.
I wrapped my hands around them, and raised my mouth up to slide over Jean-Claude's body. He was as small as he got, loose and delicate. It always amazed me how something so small could become so large. Nothing on my body could change so much--maybe that's why it fascinated me. I loved the texture when a man was totally soft. Until we shared blood, I could roll that soft, soft flesh around my mouth, suck on it all. Normally I would have tried to draw his testicles into my mouth, too, but with both my hands busy, I didn't dare. Too delicate a work to risk, when I wasn't sure I could concentrate on it all. I rolled my hands up and down Micah and Nathaniel's bodies while I sucked on Jean-Claude, drawing him harder and faster, over and over, glorying in the fact that I could take all of him in without a struggle. Like this, it was all about sensation. I could roll and flick and suck with my mouth and tongue, able to do things with his body that I could never have done with him erect.
Jean-Claude cried out, his hands clutching at the dark wood of the head-board. He looked down at me, and I rolled my eyes upward to catch that frantic look. That look that said the sensations were almost too much.
I found a rhythm for all of them, but it was the rhythm of the sucking: quick, fast, as fast as I could do it, over and over and over. I ran my hands over Nathaniel and Micah in that same frantic rhythm, pulling, firm, and quick, over and over and over.
Micah's hand grabbed mine. "Stop, or I'm going to go." He squeezed my hand, as if I'd made some move to keep going. "Please, Anita, please."
I looked up at Jean-Claude. His eyes were closed, his shoulders hunched, his body shuddering above me. I realized that though he was enjoying it, it was treading that line between feels better than anything else and too much. He probably wouldn't have said anything. He'd have let me do it as long as I wanted, but then he'd been trained by someone who was a much harsher mistress than I would ever be. I drew back from his body. He half collapsed above me, his body spasming. He rolled to the side, and Micah gave him room. Jean-Claude lay on his back, spine bowing, hands clutching at the black sheets.
