Gift of the Goddess (38 page)

Mother of the world, if this was what was happening to her, what were those women doing to
him
? She fumbled for the Bond link, searching desperately, but he’d shielded himself so completely, it was like beating her head against a wall. Trey she could reach, a tiny green ember at the back of her mind. He was exposed, raw and trembling, feeling all that she felt.

Shit.

Drawing on all she’d learned, she emulated Brin, pulling back into herself, erecting a wall to protect those she loved.
Lonely
, she keened, deep inside. It was so lonely being brave. She barely felt Jasha rubbing her hair with a towel, Berde’s hands spreading warm, fragrant oil over her back.

There could be no doubt about Berde’s gift. He had superb hands, hands that tortured and soothed, titillated and teased. By the time he’d finished her shoulders and neck, she was so unglued, she could barely remember her name.

Jasha crouched by her head and fed her sips of a chilled fruit drink through a straw. It was delicious, tangy and refreshing. As he set the cup aside and began to comb out her hair, Berde shifted his attentions to her lower back and buttocks. The gentle friction, the delightful pressure, heated her flesh, beginning at the base of her spine. The tingle was like the taste of iced sherbet on a hot day.

At Laran‘s murmured command, they rolled her over and Jasha and Ged began massaging her feet, pulling gently at her toes. Berde stood back, sucked in a breath and flexed his fingers. Anje tensed, but he grinned and bent to her upper arms. Her nipples had stiffened, moisture leaked from between her legs.

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“Drink.” Laran proffered more of the golden fruit juice and she gulped thirstily. He followed it with small cubes of fruit. It was all luscious.

Her head began to swim. Unconsciously, she arched her back, but Berde’s talented fingers slid past her breasts and traveled to her ribs. Anje bit her lip.

By the time he reached her thighs, she was at a slow boil, shifting restlessly under his touch. A pulse beat in her sex, teasing and tightening her clit. Runnels of fluid trickled down the inside of her thighs.

“Drink,” insisted Laran, and suddenly, she knew.

“Drugged,” she gasped and was horrified to discover she could barely speak.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “It’s herbs. An aphrodisiac mixed with an inhibitor. There’s so little time.” Now she recognized the expression on his face. It was pity.

“No.” With an enormous effort, she raised a hand and pushed the cup aside.

“For the moment, then. But it’s working.” Laran studied her with a narrowed gaze. “Your eyes are flaming.” Turning to Berde, he asked, “Finished?”

Mother, no! She opened her mouth and snapped it shut again. Her nipples throbbed for a touch, her sex was swollen and wet as a ripe fruit.

But Berde nodded. He was.

Anje moaned as he stepped away. When she glimpsed a beautifully sturdy cock springing out of a nest of brown curls, she slammed her eyes shut.

But the torture had only begun.

Jasha’s tender touch as he massaged her hands and shaped and buffed her fingernails made her breath come short. When he slipped her forefinger into the warm wetness of his mouth and sucked, she choked, her hips lifting off the table.

It didn’t seem to matter where they touched her, every contact, every brush of flesh on flesh electrified her skin, swamped her mind. She writhed.

“Lady Anje.” Laran swung her up in his muscled arms and strode into an adjoining room. As he lowered her to a vast bed, she got her hands around his neck and plastered her lips against his, thrusting with her tongue, desperate for relief.

He froze for a second, then sank his fingers into her hair and kissed her back with bruising force. Just as abruptly, he ripped his mouth from hers and pushed her away. “Gods!” One hand slid down to his cock and squeezed hard. Over his shoulder, Anje saw the other three ranged, their eyes wide, cocks rampant in their fists.

She wet her lips, forced out words. “Do it. Please.”

Laran shook his head, breathing hard. “Lufra’s tits, you’re something! Are you sure you’ve had no training?”

“Only Brin.” Her head thrashed. “Want them. Trey.”

Laran crouched by the side of the bed and took her hand. His brown eyes were soft, but determined. “My dear, I’m sorry.” He looked over his shoulder. “Someone get the blue vial.”

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When he removed the lid and the familiar summer-grass perfume wafted out, it took three of them to hold her down, while Laran spread the pink cream in a thick layer all over her sex, from her pubic mound right back to her anus. He was meticulous about the application, his dark brows drawn together in concentration, as he anointed every fold and crease.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Judge carefully. Pain in the right measure produces pleasure. But too much pleasure is pain and too much pain just—hurts.

Precepts of the Lady Chelisand, High Priestess of Lufra.

Anje had only a few seconds grace before waves of hard, driving lust rolled over her in a flood of sensation. Inside her, the tiny portion of her mind that retained some semblance of sanity watched in horror. Blood rushed to the petals of her sex, until they swelled and puffed, a dark sexual pink. Heavy battle drums set up a beat in her pelvis and her whole body shook to the rhythm of her frantic heart.

Ged and Jasha held her legs open while Laran wiped the cream away with a warm, damp cloth, just as carefully as he’d applied it.

Then they all stepped back, four masculine gazes riveted to her naked sex, four cocks quivering, gripped in hard fists.

Ged let out a gusty breath. “Lufra, what a gorgeous cunt.” He ran admiring fingertips over her outer labial lips and she whimpered. “Smooth as silk. All plump.”

“Hotter than the flames in her eyes,” agreed Jasha. “Gods, this is killing me!”

Completely beyond shame, Anje splayed her legs open and tilted her hips. With a cry of triumph she plunged two fingers into her flooded sheath, pressing her thumb against her engorged clit. With the first violent rub, she felt her climax approach, thundering down her nerves like a stampede of vranee down a valley.

Not one of the men moved so much as a muscle. Their faces were stark, intent. The orgasm swelled over her in a soaring chorus of ecstasy. Anje stiffened all over.

It stopped.

Mother damn it, it stopped!

She threw her head back and screamed her rage and frustration. Then she leaped to her feet and hurled herself at the door. It was a matter of self-preservation. If she couldn’t touch Brin and Trey in the next two seconds, immerse herself in them, she was going to implode.

Laran and Ged caught her after two strides. Jasha tossed them a length of black leather. Before she could collect her shattered wits, Laran had bound her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re dangerous. Look what you did.” He jerked his head. His face scarlet, Berde was mopping his belly and genitals with a cloth.

It got worse after that, much worse, the hours merging into a kind of delirium of pleasure so acute it was agonizing. Jasha whispered filthy stories of the Goddess in her

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ear, his voice husky with lust. Ged would lie and kiss her for hours—tender, nibbling touches over her face and neck, deep and drugging kisses on her mouth. Or he’d drag the hot, satiny skin of his cock over her ribs, her belly, her breasts. Berde massaged every muscle into satiation, every nerve into excruciating expectation.

Laran orchestrated the torture. He was an expert at judging when she about to reach complete sensory overload. Then they’d let her sleep for a few hours. But inevitably, someone would wake her from fevered dreams in which Trey pummeled her without mercy, while Brin devoured her mouth as though the world was ending. Each time, she’d open her eyes smiling, her lovers’ hoarse endearments ringing in her ears, confident her release was only seconds away.

Though the men shook with desire, they avoided touching her aching nipples or her naked, quivering sex. By the third day, their faces were grim with frustration, every cock rock-hard, each set of balls drawn painfully high. But they remained relentlessly tender.

It grew harder and harder to rise above the frantic demands of the weeping void within her, until it was all but impossible. An animal, she was an animal, a beast in heat, her hips jerking, her sex weeping torrents of desire. All she wanted was to rut, to be penetrated. Again and again and again.

Primitive terror mixed with the mindless, hammering lust. What if she wasn’t human anymore? She was all straining nerves and wet, empty flesh. Where was Anje? All the Anjes she knew—the scout, the fond aunt, the canny hunter, the woman of honor?

They
would know—Brin in his shamanic wisdom, Trey with his groundedness, his perception.

Berde stuck his head around the door. “Lady Chel just sent a lad with the one hour warning.” He leaned against the doorframe, staring, the hunger stark in his face. “She’s not quite there yet. What are you going to do?”

Laran rubbed his chin. “She’s part of a three-way Bond. Some visual stimulation, I think,” he said. “Jasha, would you and Ged…”

The two young men exchanged a glance. “Just us?” asked Jasha, a flush running up under his tanned cheek.

Laran shrugged. “Let’s see what develops,” he said diplomatically, bending to secure Anje’s restraints to the bedposts.

Ged clambered over her spread-eagled body, his dark blond hair brushing her cheek. Gently, he kissed her cheek. His words whispered past her ear. “Is this how they do it, Anje?”

Her eyes widened as the mattress dipped and Jasha positioned himself, his brown hands gripping the fair skin of Ged’s hips. Ged went on, “Do you know, I dream of Brin and his fabulous cock? Gods, he’d split me in half.” He swallowed as Jasha slid into him. “But I’d die happy.”

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Anje’s teeth pulled back from her lips. “
Mine
.” The growl was so entirely beast, a fellwolf could have done no better.

From the foot of the bed, Laran murmured, “Keep going.”

Jasha pulled Ged back into his chest and reached around his body to grasp the other man’s cock in both hands. He tugged at it brutally, pulling it away from Ged’s belly and releasing it, again and again. His hips jerked rhythmically as he timed his thrusts, maximizing the sensations for his partner.

Ged gurgled, deep in his throat, but he kept his eyes fixed on Anje’s, refusing to let her look away. “Do you watch them fuck, Anje?” he gasped.

“Don’t—” Eyes squeezed shut, she thrashed beneath him, the leather straps biting into her wrists and ankles.

Ged lowered himself until the satiny head of his cock rubbed her naked, slippery cleft. Her entire body went into a racking spasm and she shrieked. They waited her out. When she stilled, panting open-mouthed, Jasha set up a careful rhythm that kept Ged’s delicious hardness sliding over her slickness. The relentless murmur started up again. “I could take them both at once, Anje. Think of it.”

Mother help her, she could see it! Ged servicing them both, Trey’s gorgeous cock jammed down his throat, while Brin powered ruthlessly in and of his tender ass. All that hard, hot, masculine muscle and power.

No!
Love and possessiveness and lust swelled into a mighty conflagration. It exploded.
Not yours! Mine. By Lufra, mine!
She arched hard into the unyielding body above hers and Ged groaned. He dipped his head and plastered his mouth to hers, his tongue stroking deep, while his cock caressed every screamingly sensitive, sucking fold.

“They could have me for the asking, Anje. Jasha too. Four of us, Anje. Sucking and fucking. Offering.”

No!
Every muscle in her body went rigid with rage.
They are MINE!

On the mental shout, the Bond link split wide open and every nerve, every organ, every cell, flooded with exquisitely excruciating sensation. Brin’s powerful presence swamped her and she rode within his massive body, experiencing pleasure so overwhelming it was agony beyond endurance. His balls ached as though they were crammed in a heated vise, muscles cramped all through his back and thighs, even his jaw hurt. And his cock was so swollen, so tight with the desire to blast its seed, that it wept blood with the torture.

She hissed as she absorbed with the shock. Sweet Mother, the torments of the damned!

His precarious, hard-won control shattered, driven to the brink by her weakness. Desperately, he tried to slam the link closed, shut her out, but it was too late. Their souls flew together and locked like the parts of an intricate puzzle.

A puzzle made of lust and anguish and duty. A puzzle with a missing piece.

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Trey’s scream echoed in her head as the unshielded impact of both links slammed into him. Needle-sharp, the shards of pain and loss flayed her bloody. The leather about her right wrist stretched and tore as her muscles bunched.