by Emma Holly
Her hands played along his back. “Are the pair of you hooked up?”
“We are. I can feel how much he wants me to push inside of you.”
The corners of her mouth curved. “He’s not the only one.”
He kissed her lightly then shifted to lay his cock along her belly. Silk against silk he rubbed, delighting in the friction and her small squirms. Unable to stand that long, he dragged his crown to her entry. She was luxuriously warm and wet, her pelvis tilting to press closer. His sexual nerves sparked a warning that very little stimulation would make him come. He steadied her hip, wanting to brace her where she was.
The meeting of their gazes was, in its way, another connection of energy.
“One stroke,” he said. “One hard, long stroke all the way into you.”
She bit her lip, sucked in a breath, and nodded.
He thrust exactly as he’d promised, driving all the way, deep and smooth and exhilarating until they both arched and groaned. Her nails pricked his shoulder muscles, her heels shoving at his ass while she writhed with longing. He knew she wanted more. He didn’t have to ask. Dragging one of her legs off its stranglehold on his waist, he held her thigh down so he could move. He dragged his cock toward her gate, suspense building fresh and hot. As he plunged back, her cry was hoarse.
Apparently deciding she’d rather help than hold, she planted her other foot on the bunk to meet his next attack.
Attack it was, for both of them. Thrust by thrust, ram by ram, they threw off all restraint. He didn’t know how he held on. His cock swelled within her, his balls tightened by sensual agony. Had he ever let go like this during sex? Georgie was so strong. She took everything he gave and flung it back at him. He clamped her rear to guide her wildness and still felt like she was controlling him.
He loved that more than he understood.
When she went faster, he did as well. He dropped his head to her shoulder, mouthing their mingling sweat. The bunk’s frame began to squeak. Her hands gripped his waist and then slipped up his chest. He knew she was going to pinch his nipples before she did. His head flung back with a strangled cry. Just as Connor had, she twisted.
He came in a burst of fire, the first rush of ejaculate searing him.
“God,” she gasped, her pussy contracting hard around him.
That was heaven, but djinn could almost always come more than once. The extras his body wanted refused to be denied.
“This way,” he panted, twisting them around until she straddled him. He thrust her up to sit with his hands covering her breasts. “Again.”
She rode him as if he were a bucking carpet, roughly, wetly, dragging back the sweaty hair that clung to her forehead. She seemed an urchin then—nothing left of his lost kadin. Lust ruled, civility forgotten. How they looked, what they sounded like didn’t matter. If they were dirty animals, so be it. She growled as she climaxed a second time. He could have died from those contractions but resisted. He wove their fingers together, letting her squeeze his hard.
When her shudders finished, he flipped her under him again.
He had to pause then. He was too close to unraveling.
She’d settled enough to study his expression. “You’re going to come again.”
“Yes,” he admitted through grinding teeth.
“Bigger this time.”
He couldn’t speak. The top of his skull felt ready to lift off . . . the top of his cock, as well. He growled and withdrew to her brink. As he did, Georgie did something that took him by surprise. She wrapped her hand on shaft and squeezed. The pressure she used wasn’t tight enough to cut off his reactions. It did, however, prevent his next entry.
To his amazement, this seemed to be her intention.
“Georgie,” he gasped. His balls were ready to explode, his body about to slip its skin.
“Your eyes are glowing,” she observed.
“Let me go.”
She shook her head and grinned. “You know your safe word. Until I hear it, I’m doing what I please.”
He shuddered then jerked his head sideways toward Connor. He didn’t shift his gaze from her in the process. Her flushed face was an image he wanted to memorize. “You’re not being fair. His desires are affecting mine.”
“That’s not the magic word either.” She caressed his leg teasingly with hers. “I love the way you’re shaking. I could torment you like this all night.”
“Georgie—”
Her heel chafed the sole of his foot. His toes curled, his eyes threatening to cross at the unexpectedly erotic sensations.
“I want to finger you,” she said. “I want all of us to be certain you’ll like it.”
He could have told her he’d engaged in anal play before. For that matter, he could have said the damned safe word. Stubbornly, maybe stupidly, he resisted doing either.
He gloried in the fiction that she was the boss of him.
“Lick this,” she ordered, smirking at his silence.
She offered him her middle finger. He took it and added the next as well, sucking and licking both. Georgie’s eyelids hooded her irises.
“Greedy boy,” she mock-scolded. “Then again, perhaps you know what you like.”
She had to stretch to reach her goal. He gasped as her fingers breached his anus. The body he wore that moment was virginal, its sensitivity to stimulation almost too much to process. Shivers ran along his muscles as she stroked the first inches of his passage. She seemed familiar with the territory. Her manipulations were arousing and not at all hesitant.
He knew of only one man she could have practiced on.
“Does he like this too?” he burst out.
Connor had been silent, sitting a few feet away on the black cell floor. Now he made a throaty sound.
Georgie’s eyes crinkled. “He seems to enjoy it. We’ve only tried it a couple times. I have a feeling he’d be receptive to you making a . . . deeper foray than me.”
Was the sultan ready for that yet? His mind couldn’t focus sufficiently to decide. He twisted with pleasure as Georgie’s fingers probed deeper. She scissored them outward, the stretch on his walls increasing the impression that she filled him as a man would. His cock pulsed more violently within her other hand.
“Connor is big on choice,” she said, seeming not to register that she was nearly slaying him. “He’d never push you to—”
“Georgie,” he interrupted, his voice gravelly with strain. “I need to shove into you now.”
“Oh,” she said and flushed.
The fingers that restrained his cock released it.
“Keep rubbing me back there, please,” he said before she changed anything else she did. “I’m enjoying that very much.”
Trusting her to handle this, he dug his knees in and gripped the covers beside her head.
He exploded into motion almost before he’d decided to. His primitive urges were taking over, his thrusts so quick and long he thought he must be breaking some record. Georgie met his fervor, her sweet, slick pussy dragging more and more speed from him. His orgasm rose like a scream. The push and pull of her fingers spread the incredible ecstasy. His ass tingled; his groin ached; seed gathered in his balls. He could let it go. He didn’t have to control himself. His erection hardened. He was steel now. Diamond carved into a phallus. Georgie’s thighs flung wider, encouraging him to pump into her all the way. He had to take the permission. He’d die if he didn’t. He made sure his angle hit her where she liked best. A groan rumbled in his chest.
At the nadir of his next penetration, he came like a dam bursting.
She cried out, her pussy quivering around his spuming cock.
So much pleasure overwhelmed him. Tears of reaction squeezed from his eyes.
Quite a few minutes later he opened them again. Georgie’s legs were slung around him loosely as she patted his back limply. They were drenched in sweat, the blanket beneath them damp.
She let out a pleasured sigh.
“I’m heavy,” he said.
“A little,” she agreed.
Though he didn’t really want to, he rolled off her. The bunk didn’t allow him to go far. He ended up with his back resting on the wall. Connor was smiling faintly, seated on the floor like a Buddha directly in eyeshot. Iksander saw he’d ejaculated. His cock was relaxed, the towel he’d shot into balled up beside him. Interest shimmered down Iksander’s tailbone. Had Connor helped himself along or simply climaxed at the same time? More to the point, if he had masturbated, was Iksander sorry to have missed watching?
“You . . . seem calm,” he observed.
“I enjoyed your pleasure.”
“Connor,” Georgie mumbled, stretching her inked arm to him.
He kissed her fingers and then her palm. “Thank you, Georgie. I’m grateful you let go and had fun.”
She chuckled sleepily. “You sure are grateful for funny things.”
“I’m me. What makes me happy is what does.”
Perhaps Iksander’s satiation was playing tricks with his mind. Whatever the reason, in his current state, the angel’s simple words seemed profound.
Chapter Ten
THEY DRAGGED THE BUNK mattresses to the floor to lay together, the same as they had in the power plant. Understandably tired, they slept a couple hours. Though Georgie didn’t hear the cell door hiss open, the guard clanging his metal truncheon against the wall was an effective alarm bell.
She bolted up with the blanket clutched to her nakedness.
The look the guard shot their tangled arrangement was too bored to be a leer. “Get dressed. You three are being moved.”
Iksander didn’t ask where, so she figured she shouldn’t either. The guard’s jaded attitude aside, she preferred to pull on her clothes without his eyes on her. Once in the bathroom, her alertness switched on enough to kick herself. They could have spent the night forming plans. Instead, they’d had sex and slept.
The fact that it had been really good sex didn’t make up for the lapse.
Today—if it was day—they weren’t chained together and only had four escorts. Regrettably, the warren of halls the guards led them through kept them from grasping how the location was laid out. She couldn’t grasp it anyway. Maybe Connor and Iksander had better mental GPS.
At the end of the final hall, a granite arch set off an ornamented brass double door. Posted before this exit were four additional djinn. They wore black and silver striped uniforms. The style reminded her of Swiss guards at the Vatican.
“Official transport,” the leader of their escort barked. “Per order of our esteemed regents.”
He handed over a fancy scroll. One of the Swiss guards examined it, nodded to his companions, at which signal the four djinn stepped aside as one. The broad brass doors swung open without anyone touching them. The potent outrush of magic—threshold protection spells, she supposed—caused the hairs on her nape to rise.
If this display was meant to overawe, it did the trick for her.
She followed the guards hesitantly through.
“Wow,” Connor said beside her.
Georgie stopped in her tracks. They’d entered a literally dazzling space, so bedecked with gold and mirrors, with crystal torchieres and tall blazing windows that her eyes couldn’t add up the images. She closed her mouth and swallowed, trying to make a coherent picture form. The floor was multi-hued inlaid marble, the ceiling a muralled vault overhead. The massive chandeliers dangling from it would have crushed elephants. Fist-sized gems spangled everywhere, casting uncountable reflections. The actual lights were magic-powered. The air was thick with spellwork, the prickle she’d felt at the door a pale precursor.
Her ability to speak returned haltingly. “This is like Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors times umpteen.”
“Sunshine,” Iksander breathed in a similar tone. He waved weakly toward a long march of windows. The brightness that flooded through them did appear to be daylight, the first she’d seen since arriving in this city.
Like moths, they went to it. Their escort didn’t stop them. Maybe stupefied admiration was encouraged. The building they’d been brought to enclosed a courtyard as long on its sides as a football field. From their vantage on the second floor, the pavers below formed an ornately scrolled pattern. Cultivated gardens swirled around the edges, the beds lush with fruiting trees. Among the branches, long-tailed birds flaunted colorful feathers. Perhaps for contrast, fountains grand and small tinkled soothingly. In the largest reflecting pool, lily pads bracketed giant blooms. Blue herons stalked between them, presumably hunting their next meal. Above these marvels a summery sky stretched to seeming infinity. The sun hung at the noon point, its rays so brilliant they shot rainbows.
When Georgie glanced at Iksander, he’d braced—jaw agape—between one window’s columns. “I heard tales of this,” he murmured, “but I didn’t believe them: that Luna could command both the moon and sun.”
“That’s not the sun,” Connor contradicted. “That’s a ball of magic that looks like one.”
Either way, the orb was impressive. Its rays sustained the garden, all evidence of winter banished beneath its warmth. To call the power expenditure profligate was mild. How many neighborhoods like Prospekt Market went without so this could flourish?
“Hey,” Georgie said. “Does this fancy stuff mean we’re in the palace?”
“Assuredly,” Iksander said.
She studied their surroundings from the new perspective. This extraordinary lap of luxury had been Luna’s residence. Georgie thought of their life at Ravenwings as cushy, but what a step down the human world must have seemed to her former guardian!
“Welcome to Mordent Palace,” interrupted a composed voice, somewhat anticlimactically. “Please come with me.”
They turned to find a female, neither young nor old, gazing composedly at them. Her multi-layered flowing gown was black with silver moons. Georgie thought the outfit might be servants’ livery. Though the djinniya appeared unarmed, possibly she had hidden defenses. The guards who’d escorted them from the jail relinquished them to her custody.
The soldiers’ absence emboldened Iksander. “Where are you taking us?” he asked. “Why have we been brought here?”
The woman turned her head but didn’t pause. “I’m taking you where you’ll be more comfortable, Citizen Andrei. As to why, it is the privilege of our glorious regents to supply that answer.”
Their walk was long and followed an out-of-the-way back route. It ended in a spacious set of rooms on an upper floor. There the servant left them, quietly closing the door after.
Georgie looked around curiously. The suite was an upgrade from the cell, including a bedroom, a bathing chamber, and a comfortable sitting area. The furnishings were the djinn version of seventeenth century French, the ceilings high and embellished with plasterwork. To her, the space was lavish. To people here, she supposed it might have been second-rate.
Disconcertingly, the windows overlooked a dark pine forest with no sunshine. Snow heaped the drooping branches. Should they need to escape, fleeing in that dour direction didn’t seem promising.
“We’re locked in,” Iksander announced, having checked the door. “And not only mechanically.”
Georgie started to ask if he could crack the charm. Connor signaled her to hush. He pointed to a corner of the cornice, where he must have found a watch spell. The sultan wasn’t worried about being obvious. He crossed his arms and glared balefully at it. Georgie felt his power gathering.
“In the name of the creator of eyes and ears, I pronounce thee deaf and blind.”
A sound like speaker feedback suggested he’d succeeded.
“Was that a good idea?” she asked.
Iksander shrugged. “The spell was basic, probably a test to see if we’d find it and shut it off. I wager all the guestrooms have them. Our hosts are playing games. Seeing how we react to stick and carrot. We’ll be insulted next. Shown we’re not important.”
“Isn’t that for the best?”
“It is. Just don’t confuse being taken for small bananas with being safe.”
Georgie and Connor smiled at his turn of phrase.
“We say small potatoes,” Connor explained.
“Ah,” Iksander said, then rubbed his chin and sighed.
Despite deducing their captors’ tactics, being locked in and left to cool his heels didn’t please the sultan. For the next hour, he paced the suite. Though the man that ruled a city was apparent in every step, Georgie didn’t give him a heads up. He knew how to hide his origins when required—and anyway maybe he needed to feel more like himself right then. He had a lot to ponder, including about last night.
He’d never be an easy lover like Connor, nor an easy person, probably. Georgie wasn’t sure that mattered. He drew her interest and her emotions. His broody energy and his conscience appealed to her as strongly as his beauty. His pride was no dampener either. In truth, everything about him fascinated her—especially now that she’d had sex with him. She’d like to have it again. Or to watch him and Connor. Her insides went hot at that idea. She guessed her angel wasn’t the only one with a voyeuristic streak.
The object of her erotic meandering stopped. “Someone’s coming.”
He wasn’t alarmed. Deliberately cool, he turned toward the door. Connor and Georgie rose to match his pose. They were just in time to present a united front. The djinniya who’d brought them to the suite entered carrying packages.
She seemed startled to find them facing her.
“Court clothes,” she said, smoothing her expression and lifting laden arms. “Tonight is your lucky night. You’ve been invited to attend the imperial meal. I’m instructed to help you with dressing charms.”
“We can handle them,” Connor said, gently taking the wrapped bundles.
Her eyes widened when they met his. Like most djinn, she seemed to find his celestial gaze difficult to break. “The spells are pre-set. And complex. You won’t be used to them.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he assured her.
Flustered, she touched her perfectly ordered hair. “If you’re sure . . .”