Jean-Claude laid a gentle kiss against my face. "I love that you still blush, ma petite."
"I don't," I mumbled from against the smoothness of his neck.
Asher laughed, and it had some of the touchable, sexual energy that Jean-Claude's could have, as if just the sound of their laughter could tease along your skin. "We both prefer our women a little innocent."
I turned and glared up at him, but since he had his shirt flapping open and was undoing his pants, the glare didn't last long. I managed to say, voice a little unsure, "I am not innocent."
"Not anymore," he said, and stripped his pants down those long legs, leaving him in a silk white thong and the open tux shirt that hung down to his hips. He looked even taller than his six foot one as he stood there; his legs went on forever before getting lost in the shirttails.
I just stared at him, wordless, struck stupid by the sight of him. I felt Jean-Claude go very still as he held me, as if he was having the same inability to think that I was having. That smile curled his lips, the one I could only describe as evil. He smiled down at us with a shining, eager, beautiful, and evil smile, put his thumbs in the front of the thong, and began to slide it down his body, watching us as he did it. He stood up with it in his hand, still wearing the unbuttoned tuxedo shirt so that it framed his groin, the cloth only a little more white than his skin. He lay soft, not ready between his legs.
Jean-Claude had to clear his throat to say, "You haven't fed yet."
"I knew I would have Anita waiting for me, why would I want to feed on anyone else?"
Since one of Asher's vampire gifts was the ability to make his bite orgasmic, I couldn't really argue with his reasoning. "Works for me," I whispered.
"Good," Asher said, and dropped the thong on the floor. He used those long legs to simply step into the tub and let the water come up to his waist, soaking the bottom of the white shirt. As he moved deeper into the water the cloth clung to his body and turned opaque so that it didn't so much hide but accentuate his body like wonderful impromptu lingerie.
He went to his knees and then suddenly submerged his upper body completely so when he stood back up the shirt clung to every curve and swell of his body. It showed the lean muscle of him, the slender waist and hips, the broad shoulders, the difference in skin texture from one side of his chest and stomach to the other, because the Church that had killed their Julianna had also used holy water to try and burn the devil out of Asher. Holy water was like acid on vampire flesh, and the scars were rougher under the wet cloth, but I loved that he was willing to flaunt his body like that, all of his body. He was still using his hair to hide the right side of his face where they'd scarred him so long ago. He was a master at using his hair, shadows, to hide his scars while still showing off his unscarred half. He traced his hands down the wet cloth, and my gaze followed his hands like it was meant to do, mesmerized as he caressed down the front of his body. His hands slid down toward his groin, which was just at water level, so that when he cupped his hands to play with himself, the view was half in the water and half out. I knew what I wanted to do next.
He laughed, rich, arrogant, so happily full of himself, and he didn't need any vampire powers to make me shiver happily. Jean-Claude shifted in the water as he held me. It made me glance at his face, to find a look that mirrored my own; we were both appreciating the show.
"I love that you both look at me like that. That you both want me."
"Who wouldn't want you?" I asked.
He smiled down at me then, but it wasn't just lust in it, or even being pleased with himself; it held something more tender than either. "Thank you, ma Chou. That you truly believe that means even more. Trust me, there are those who see me as spoiled."
"They're fools," I said, gazing up as he towered over us, looking like an ad for some high-class erotic magazine.
He laughed again, and this time it did hold his power, so that the sound of it danced down my body, made me shiver in Jean-Claude's arms. But since my legs were still wrapped around his waist, it made certain parts of me rub against the solidness of his body. It made me want to rub against him, but there were other, much better ways of doing it. The possibilities with both Asher and Jean-Claude in the tub with me were almost endless. Anticipation began to do a lot of the prep work for me. Just thinking about what I'd done with them in the past, knowing their skills, sped my pulse just a little.
Asher knelt in the water so that it came to just below his nipples, which showed like slightly darker circles behind the wet shirt. I unwound my legs from Jean-Claude and the two of us moved toward Asher. We separated and came in from both sides, as if we meant to outflank him. The water that only reached their upper chests was to my chin on my knees, so that I half swam toward him.
"Who's topping whom tonight?" Asher asked in a voice that had already gone slightly lower. He gazed at me, half lost in the water, then back to Jean-Claude, bare-chested and so close.
"I thought we'd top ma petite together," Jean-Claude said.
They both looked at me. It was a predatory look. I stood up in the water, taller by a few inches with them on their knees. I'd done it, because being neck deep in water didn't seem very dominant, but standing bared my breasts to the air, and to their gaze. I was caught between wanting to cover up and loving the way they looked at me. Conflicted; who, me?
I said the only thing I could think to say. "Yes."
2
I licked water off both of them, taking turns running my mouth down their chests and stomachs, and finally ending with Asher sitting on the edge of the tub, where the marble spread out into the mirror-edged platform. I knelt in the warm, warm water, with his long legs on either side of me, while I went down on him. He still hadn't taken blood from me, so he was limp and as small as he got as I sucked and rolled my mouth over him. I loved the feel of a man before he got big, and with most men a little oral sex and they were anything but little almost immediately. But until a vampire took blood there wasn't enough blood pressure to have that wonderful change of texture and size, so I could suck to my heart's content without it turning into a challenge to breathing around something much too big to go down my throat that far. I loved deep-throating, but my body didn't always like not being able to breathe. I was able to press my mouth completely over him until my lips kissed against his body with all of him inside my mouth. It was an amazing sensation.
I rolled my eyes upward and watched Asher's face as he stared down at me, eyes wide, breath panting, but not building to release. Until he took blood from me, there would be no release for him.
Jean-Claude had chosen to watch. He'd said, "I want to watch his face as you pleasure him, knowing he has no release until he takes blood from you."
It so totally worked for me.
I felt the water move around me, sloshing and caressing my body, and knew before hands touched me that Jean-Claude had grown tired of watching and was about to join us. That totally worked for me, too.
He knelt in the water, and I felt enough of his body to know he was lower in the water than I'd expected. I moved back enough from Asher's body to start to glance back at him, but he touched my face and told me, "I didn't tell you to look, or to stop."
Normally I wouldn't have taken the "tell," but he was top, which meant he was in charge, and in the bedroom I gave up that power sometimes. Sometimes it was one of the most relaxing things in the world to not be the one in charge for a change.
I turned back to Asher, one hand playing over the delicate looseness of his testicles, and lowered my mouth back over the rest of him.
Jean-Claude's hands caressed my ass, smoothing between my thighs, spreading my legs wider. Then his fingers found my opening and, with the practice of years, he slipped a finger inside me. It made me gasp and stop, frozen with Asher buried as deep as he could go in my mouth.
"The water always makes you so very tight, but I didn't tell you to stop. I want you to scream your pleasure with him in your mouth," Jean-Claude said.
&nb
sp; Asher said, "Let me take blood first, and when you bring her we will both go."
"No," Jean-Claude said, "I want to watch your face while her screams vibrate around your body, but you cannot have release from all that sensation."
I rolled my eyes upward to watch Asher's face. He looked almost pained. I rolled my mouth over him until the tip slipped from between my lips, and I kissed him there before swallowing him down again. He stared down at me with wide, almost panicked eyes, then up at Jean-Claude. "I thought we were topping Anita, not me."
"I changed my mind," Jean-Claude said, and he began to work his finger in and out of me until I made small helpless noises around Asher's body, as if he were a living gag.
"Mon Dieu." Asher breathed it out almost in a sigh.
"If you complain, I won't let you have release," Jean-Claude threatened, and his voice held that edge of darkness that the rare moments of sadism reared.
I watched the look of surprise on Asher's face as he looked at him, as if he couldn't believe Jean-Claude meant it, but whatever he saw on the other vampire's face convinced him, because he said, "I will not complain."
"Good," he said, and then he made his fingers go in and out of me faster and faster, as if he were fucking me with them. The combination of Asher in my mouth and Jean-Claude's fingers between my legs brought me screaming with my mouth pressed as tight against the front of Asher's body as I could get.
He cried out above me, and I knew he wasn't having orgasm with me, because he couldn't, but the vibrations of my screams bowed his neck, made his hands clutch at the towels he was sitting on. "Please, Jean-Claude, please," he begged.
"No."
Jean-Claude raised my hips higher up in the water, until I was on my feet. I started to raise my face up, but Jean-Claude's hand pressed the back of my head, keeping me where I was. "Hold her in place, your body is her gag while I fuck her. If she moves from your body I will deny you release tonight." Jean-Claude moved his hand away, and Asher's hand was suddenly there, pressing my head to his groin. He was soft, so I could breathe and actually stay comfortably where I was, but I couldn't help but try to rise up. Asher let me feel the strength in his hand as he simply kept me there around his body. The strength and the force made me start to struggle, because I couldn't help it. Then Jean-Claude moved my body and I could feel the tip of him firm and oh-so-ready as he pushed himself inside me.
I started screaming almost as soon as he began to enter me, not orgasm exactly, but pleasure. And I loved the feel of Asher in my mouth while he held me down as Jean-Claude pushed his way inside me. The combination made me struggle to get away, knowing I couldn't, knowing I didn't really want to, but sometimes struggling is part of the game.
Jean-Claude found his rhythm, long, deep strokes caressing over and over inside me, while Asher held me in place and his body filled my mouth. The orgasm caught me by surprise, one moment building, and the next Jean-Claude brought me screaming, raking my nails down Asher's thighs as he held me in place while my body bucked hard enough to splash water over all of us.
Jean-Claude cried out, and I felt his body do one last hard thrust, and the sensation of him going inside me brought me again. Asher was cursing softly in French, his body the only gag to muffle my screams. I dug my nails into his thighs and smelled the sweet copper of fresh blood. I'd bled him. My eyes rolled back into my head, and only Jean-Claude's arm around my waist and Asher's hand on the back of my head stopped me from sinking down into the water.
"You may let her up," Jean-Claude said in a breathless voice that showed the effort he'd just put in.
Asher let me go, and I rose up, so that I was half standing with Jean-Claude's body still inside mine, his arm holding me upright. He wrapped his free hand in my hair and pulled me backward in one harsh movement that took my breath away and did nothing to help me regain control of my legs. He used my hair as a handle to stretch my neck to one side.
Asher pushed himself into the water, to stand in front of us, but Jean-Claude didn't wait. He plunged his fangs into my neck, and I was left shrieking my pleasure to echo around the mirrors. I watched my face; I looked in pain, but I wasn't. I'd had enough sex that the bite translated directly into orgasm, and I danced in Jean-Claude's arms, writhing and twisting, while he drank me down. When he'd reduced me to eye-fluttering limpness, he used my hair to turn my head and expose the other side of my neck. "Feed."
Asher didn't need a second order. He pressed himself to the other side of me, his arms circling around us both, pressing himself against me as hard as he could, so that they were both holding me up. I felt his hand on my face and then his lips were on my neck. He kissed me, gently, and then he plunged his fangs into me, and his bite did what no other vampire could do: it translated directly into pleasure. One minute I was limp, trembling from the orgasms Jean-Claude had given me, and the next I was back to screaming my pleasure to the glass and marble room so that my own screams echoed back to me, as if every image of me in all the mirrors were all screaming together as I watched myself writhe, nails digging into Asher's upper arms. His body grew thick and hard between us, so that when he pulled back from the bite I knew he was tremblingly ready.
"Now, we trade places," Jean-Claude said. He half carried me, half pulled me through the water until he sat where Asher had started, and he let me collapse to my knees in the water. Asher caught me around the waist, and his body was hard and ready. Jean-Claude had time to push my mouth over him, but he wasn't small; he was already growing bigger as my mouth slid over him, with his hand still wrapped hard and fast in my hair, until it almost hurt, was almost too much. He'd rinsed in the water, but I could taste myself on him, and faintly him. Then Asher slid himself as deep and sudden and hard inside me as he could. It stole my breath before Jean-Claude's body could.
Asher was all out of patience, because he began to fuck me as fast as he could, finding a hard, fast rhythm, so that our bodies smacked together with a thick, meaty sound. Water was splashing up around us, drenching me and almost them.
Jean-Claude had done too much prep work and I orgasmed almost immediately, screaming my pleasure around Jean-Claude's body as he pushed himself as far down my throat as he could go. And then there was no more screaming, because there was no more air to scream with. He held my head down there, his body buried as deep as possible. Waves of pleasure were still spilling over and through me as Asher pounded into me, but now my body was also trying to breathe and couldn't, so the struggling was no longer entirely a game. I knew he'd let me up, I knew he wouldn't hurt me, but my body didn't. It just knew it needed to breathe, and it couldn't.
"I am close," Asher said in a hoarse, deep voice.
"Together," Jean-Claude said. "But pause." Asher buried himself as deep inside me as he could, but he stopped moving. Jean-Claude let me come up far enough to breathe, and asked, "Are you all right with our game, ma petite?"
I took two gasping breaths and said, "Yes, very yes."
He smiled at me, and then forced my head back down the hard, thick length of him, until he was buried deep down my throat and I had to swallow him down because he gave me no choice. "Now," he said, and Asher pulled himself almost out of my body and then in and out, in and out, over and over again. I felt the warmth building deep inside me, and I struggled to come up enough to tell them. Jean-Claude let me rise up enough to breathe, and then pushed me back down before I could say anything. And when his body hit that point in my throat where I had to struggle to go deeper, he pushed farther until my lips were pressed tight against the front of his body. And then Asher plunged himself in one last time and I orgasmed again, but there was no screaming this time, there was just the feel of Jean-Claude and Asher as far in my body as the two of them could get. And then they went together just like Jean-Claude had said. I swallowed that sudden hot spill of liquid because that far down my throat I had no choice.
Jean-Claude brought me up slowly off his body, as if enjoying every inch. Asher was collapsed over me, one arm around my wais
t and the other on the tub edge as if it were all that held him upright.
Jean-Claude leaned over and they kissed, long and tenderly, and then Jean-Claude kissed me just as thoroughly and tenderly. Asher kissed me last, his tongue licking my lips, and I knew he was tasting that saltiness that was Jean-Claude.
"Thank you, ma petite."
When I could talk, I managed to whisper, "My pleasure." And it had been.
Read on for a special preview of the next novel in
Laurell K. Hamilton's
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series
KISS THE DEAD
Available June 2012 from Berkley Books
On TV, interrogation rooms are roomy and have big windows so that you can watch everything. In reality, the rooms are pretty small, and there are almost never big picture windows; that's why real police footage is grainy and black-and-white rather than Technicolor gorgeous. The interrogation room was painted pale beige, or maybe it was taupe, I'd always been a little fuzzy on the difference between them. Either way it was a bland color described by real estate agents as a warm neutral; they lied. It was a cold, impersonal color. The small table was all shiny metal, and so was the chair. The idea was that the prisoners couldn't scratch their names, or messages, in the metal like they could have in wood, but whoever thought that had never seen what a vampire, or a wereanimal, could do to metal. There were plenty of scratches in the shiny tabletop, most done with just fingernails, superhuman strength, and the boredom of hours of sitting.
The vampire sitting at the small table wasn't trying to carve his initials on anything. He was crying, so hard that his thin shoulders shook. He'd slicked his black hair back from his face in a widow's peak that I was betting was a haircut and no more natural than the ink-black color.
He was mumbling in a tear-choked voice, "You hate me because I'm a vampire."
I spread my hands flat on the cool metal table. My jacket's jewel-tone blue sleeves looked too bright against the naked metal, or maybe it was the crimson nail polish. That had been for my date the night before; it looked out of place while I was U.S. Marshal Anita Blake. I counted to ten to keep from yelling at our suspect again. That was what had started the crying; I'd scared him. Jesus, some people don't have enough balls to be undead.