Mists of Velvet

by Sophie Renwick

  “More than willing.”

  She practically purred as he took her hand in his to lead her to the staircase. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “I know.” They always said that, pretending innocence, then clawing at him and Keir as soon as they were alone.

  She looked up at him, her eyes outlined with black eyeliner. She was pretty, and he was turned on. And Keir needed to feed. With a smile, she reached for him and pressed another kiss against his mouth.

  “I’m ready,” she murmured against his lips, “for the ride of a lifetime.”

  Keir paced the room where Rhys was going to bring the girl. His mind was consumed with Rhys’ feelings, the lust coursing through his blood. The woman was reaching for his cock, stroking and cupping him. He could hear Rhys’ growl; he could feel his need to press the woman against the wall and lift her skirt, sinking his cock deep inside her. The excitement built within Rhys, and Keir felt his body absorb the sensations.

  As Rhys got excited, Keir fed.

  Keir felt them outside the room. Already the woman had Rhys’ shirt off, and her hands were working on the fastening of his jeans. He heard Rhys’ heart speed up and the blood rush in his veins—and to his cock.

  The energy built, and he allowed it. This was what he needed to survive.

  The door opened, banged against the wall, and Rhys and the woman fell into the room. She was wild and experienced, and Keir gave thanks that she would not take long to fuck them.

  He had no desire to seduce tonight. He wanted to take; not teach; not reassure. He wanted someone who knew what she was getting into.

  Rhys moved to the bed, and the woman, now half dressed, fell back onto it. Rhys stood at the side of the mattress, his fingers unbuttoning his jeans.

  Moving to stand behind him, Keir pulled his shirt over his head and allowed it to drop to the floor. The woman’s eyes widened as she took in his markings; then her gaze slipped to Rhys’ cock, and she took in the size of that.

  Keir could smell her excitement. She was wet; already her core was opening, waiting for them. He heard her thoughts, a breathy voice in his head.

  “Oh my God, they’re beautiful. I can’t wait to feel them ... and to see them together. I wonder if they do each other.”

  Keir mentally reached out to Rhys. “You know what she wants.”

  With a nod, Rhys reached for her and brought her to her knees. Then he pulled her top off, baring her breasts.

  “Both, right?” she asked as she watched Keir climb onto the bed behind her.

  “If you can handle us both,” Rhys said with a grin. He reached for his cock, stroking it in his hand, as Keir cupped her breasts from behind, shoved them together, and offered them up to him.

  Rhys licked the mounds, wetting them for his cock, which he wanted to slide between them. He normally kissed and touched, preparing the woman and easing their way into the threesome, but this one was ready for it. Her gaze was hungry. He could feel the stinging of his back from where her nails had dug into his skin.

  Keir tugged at her nipples as Rhys licked. Then Keir pinched them, and Rhys sucked on them. She moaned, then slid her hand down the front of her skirt, playing with herself as Keir parted her breasts and Rhys slid his cock between them.

  She watched, Keir’s hands on her breasts, Rhys’ cock pumping between them. Keir circled his finger around the wet slit of Rhys’ cock, then brought it to her mouth. She sucked his finger in deep, then licked the drop of pre-cum from his finger.

  There was no way in hell that she’d never done this before. Keir looked at him with amusement, then took his cock in hand and rubbed her hip with it.

  She moaned and bent sideways, trying to see Keir masturbating. Her mouth bumped Rhys’ cock, and she bent forward, taking him in her mouth and sliding deep.

  With a groan, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel and allowing Keir to feed.

  “Fuck,” Keir moaned as he pumped harder. One hand gripped her breast, then squeezed, conveying the thought that he liked what he saw, but Rhys knew it was him, his feelings that made Keir groan in satisfaction.

  Holding her over his cock, Rhys slowed her down and met Keir’s gaze over her back. She was moaning and writhing as Keir lifted her skirt and brushed his cock along her ass. She was still fingering her pussy. Then he ripped the skirt from her and tossed it aside. No panties; no bra—she was just a woman eager for two men. Her mouth was sucking him, and her hand was stroking Keir as he fondled her breasts.

  Closing his eyes, Rhys tried to think of her. She was beautiful and experienced. She knew how to suck him; how to stroke Keir’s cock as she worked his with her mouth. It was every guy’s dream, but he wanted more. That empty place in his chest yawned deeper, and he tried to forget about it, to think of something else, but then the image of his dream woman came to him, and the hole in his chest got bigger and darker.

  Keir sensed Rhys pulling away. He knew why. He was thinking of his dream woman. His emotions got murky, his excitement waned, and Keir felt frantic. He wasn’t done feeding. He needed more.

  “Don’t think of her,” he mentally murmured to the mortal. “Just as I won’t think of Rowan.”

  The woman fell back onto the bed, her thighs spread, waiting for them to come to her. They both crawled to her, and Keir bent to suckle her breasts while parting her sex with his fingers, inviting Rhys to pet her.

  Their fingers touched. The electric charge slammed through him. Only when he fed did they feel it. It was arousing, binding, and Rhys brushed against him again, just to feel the connection once more.

  Keir’s cock was hard and aching, and the woman was reaching down for Rhys’ hand. Then, she was placing Rhys’ fingers around Keir’s cock.

  The woman’s excitement vibrated around the room as Rhys stroked him. When Keir reached for him, then wrapped his hand around Rhys’ neck, bringing him closer to him, she purred and rubbed her thighs together. When he grabbed Rhys’ cock and began stroking him, she cried out and touched herself.

  She watched, her eyes wide, her fingers stroking her cunt as Keir and Rhys touched each other. The arousal ramped up, and Keir felt his hunger abate—he also felt the empty spot inside him begin to fill the tiniest bit. There was a special connection between them, especially during this—sex.

  He heard Rhys’ thoughts: he wanted—needed—to come. He wanted inside the woman, to fuck her hard; he wanted to watch Keir take her as well.

  Keir wanted all that, too.

  They left each other. Rhys then lifted the woman so that she was on her knees, her back to his chest. Keir kneeled in front of her and placed her legs over Rhys’ thighs, exposing her core. Gripping her hips, Rhys lifted her up, sat her on his cock as Keir worked one breast, and slid the other hand to her pussy.

  The woman cried out in pleasure as she slid down on Rhys’ cock, and he thrust upward. Keir watched as Rhys took her, his cock sliding in and out. Her bottom slapped at Rhys’ thighs, and her tits bounced enticingly, making him reach for one.

  Her sex was stretched wide with Rhys’ cock; she was moaning. He played with her and watched her breasts bounce; he pinched her nipple and felt her cunt grow wetter on his hand. Her core clutched at Rhys, and he groaned, gripping her hips harder. As Keir took in the picture before him, he wondered if Rowan would ever be this way with them—with him.

  Could he share her like this? Could he stand to see Rhys thrusting into her? Could he part her thighs, lower his mouth to her core, and have Rhys there, watching? Touching?

  No. He couldn’t. Whatever he did with Rowan would be beautiful; too sacred; too important to him to share—even with Rhys.

  “Oh my God,” she kept chanting as Rhys took her. Keir was sweating, his teeth grinding together. He was close, and he fed off the inner struggle Rhys was waging.

  He didn’t want to come—yet.

  Circling her, Keir stroked her core, then Rhys’ cock.

  “You bastard.” Rhys’ panting breaths entered his thoughts. “You know
you’ll make me come.”

  The woman liked it. She changed from “Oh my God,” to “Yes, yes.” She wanted to be fucked by them and then to watch them take each other.

  Keir met Rhys’ gaze before he lowered his head to her breasts. Rhys lifted her breasts to Keir’s mouth, brushing her nipples against his face, and Keir caught them in his mouth, biting down softly.

  Her arm flew behind her, and her fingers clutched Rhys’ hair. Her breasts bounced, Rhys lifted them higher, and Keir took them hard, suckling her, kneading her in time to the stroke of Rhys’ hands and his cock. Their fingers brushed again, and the electric shock was shared once more.

  Then Keir moved down, lower, lower, until his mouth was at her sex and he could see Rhys’ cock filling her. He watched for a second, turned on by watching. Rhys’ cock was thick, glistening, and the woman was taking him, swallowing him whole. And it looked so fucking good . . .

  Rhys heard the woman scream as Keir sucked her clit. The bastard’s fingers were sliding around the base of his cock, spreading the wetness down to his balls. Then Rhys felt Keir’s tongue circle the part of his cock that he could reach. As he withdrew, Keir’s tongue swiped hot and wet—in, then out again, only to have Keir’s tongue wrap around him.

  Biting his lip, he fought for control. His emotions were unraveling, and Keir was taking them deep, feeding off his lust.

  He was lost now, no longer thinking about anything, just the mindless need to come. How good it felt to be inside someone; to have Keir here, a presence in his mind, and his body. He was connected now with Keir, so Rhys could hear the woman’s thoughts drumming through his mind.

  “Oh my God, he’s licking his cock!”

  Even though Keir was licking her cunt and playing with her nipples, she wanted to see Rhys’ dick in Keir’s mouth.

  Keir decided to give her what she wanted.

  Lifting her away from Rhys, he left the woman on her knees, his hand buried in her pussy as he bent over and took Rhys’ cock deeply in his mouth.

  Both he and the woman moaned at the same time, and Keir’s body tensed, infused with power.

  “Finish me,” Rhys commanded the wraith as he sucked deep, pulling him. The wraith laughed, his voice ringing in his mind. “Not yet, mortal.”

  Keir was having way too much fun.

  Pulling away, Keir bent to the woman and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers. “I like the way you taste on him.”

  She moaned, pulled Keir down on her, and spread her legs. “He tastes good on you, too.”

  Keir gripped her hair and licked her neck. “Did you like it, watching me suck his cock?”

  She moaned, liking the conversation. Keir used his thigh and brushed the contoured edge between her sex. She came down on him, rubbing him hard. Keir’s thigh was glistening wet.

  “Take me,” she begged, arching her hips.

  Rhys watched as Keir slammed into her. He was rougher, more aggressive, but the woman liked it—took it. It was always this way. Rhys was the seducer; Keir the dominant. Once Keir was fed, he was strong, his natural dominance coming to the forefront.

  Rhys tore his gaze from the two bodies as the woman slid her hand along the bed, reaching for him. He moved closer, watching the way Keir worked her. His cock was thick, pounding in and out of her, and Rhys watched, mentally commanding the wraith to go harder, faster.

  He obeyed and lifted the woman’s legs over his shoulders, exposing her, deepening the angle for his penetration. The side view turned Rhys on. He saw Keir’s cock filling her, thrusting deep, and saw her cunt open to him. The woman moaned, and Rhys glanced down. She was sliding her fingers around his cock, pulling him closer, to her mouth. She liked what was happening between the three of them, and she was hungering for more than one of them.

  As she sucked him, Rhys allowed himself to touch Keir. There was a jolt between them, which Rhys felt infuse his body. The woman was working him faster and harder as her climax came upon her. He was close to coming, and so was the wraith. The woman’s mouth worked his cock, as her pussy worked Keir’s. Rhys and Keir had a rule—the woman’s pleasure before theirs. So Rhys leaned forward and flicked her clit, and he felt her explode, the cry wrapping his cock.

  Then the wraith stiffened, and Rhys felt his orgasm, along with his own, rear up.

  Keir held his gaze as he pulled out of the woman, emptying on her belly. She held Rhys close, inviting him to come in her mouth, but he pulled out and instead pressed the head of his cock against Keir’s, coming in pulsing white streams that coated the head of Keir’s cock.

  The three of them were panting, and Rhys was left with the sensation that both he and Keir had needed something different tonight. It was more than their bond. They had needed to fill that empty space inside them that neither of them understood.

  “Holy shit,” the woman breathed. “That was fucking hot.”

  Keir pushed away and reached for his shirt. He wiped the woman’s belly clean and tossed the shirt onto the floor.

  Then he leaned over and caged the woman with his arms. “Look into my eyes.”

  She did, and Rhys knew the drill. Keir was going to wipe her memories clean. She wouldn’t remember much more than taking Rhys upstairs. Neither of them wanted the women to remember what they did to each other. It was personal; a private expression of their bond.

  “You will remember one of us. Not both. And not us together.”

  She nodded, her eyes glazed. “Yes.”

  Keir’s silver eyes flashed, and he moved away. “Thank you,” he said to her, helping her sit up. “You were perfect.”

  Keir sent Rhys a smile, then turned to dress. Rhys watched the tableau and felt a chill race down his spine. When he was younger, he couldn’t have imagined it any better—hot, anonymous, kinky-assed sex. He’d loved it. Now he was left feeling empty. That woman hadn’t wanted either of them—not really. She’d wanted the sex; the excitement of a threesome; the novelty of seeing two guys together. But it hadn’t been anything more than base, sexual desire. She didn’t want to know them or to connect on anything other than a physical plane.

  Keir glanced at him over his shoulder, his look conveying that he felt the same thing.

  “You’re alive, and I’m alive. It’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  Keir left the room, and the woman, who was just finishing pulling on her skirt, gazed up at him. “Ah, I think you ripped this.”

  Rhys went to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans. “It’s all I’ve got.”

  She grabbed them and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “So, uh, I have some friends to meet downstairs.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll see you around?”

  “Yeah.”

  He watched her pull on his jeans, which were, of course, too big, and followed her out the door. When she was walking down the stairs, Keir came out of the shadows.

  “I’ll lock up tonight.”

  Rhys glanced at the wraith. “Is it enough for you?”

  “It has to be. She enjoyed it. She’s downstairs now telling her friends what a stud you are.”

  Rhys reached for Keir. “You thought of Rowan. When you came.”

  The wraith nodded, then looked away. “I couldn’t help it. You saw what she looked like in my thoughts.”

  “I tried not to, but it was damned hard. You have a vivid imagination.”

  Keir winced. “I know. It drives me fucking mad at night.”

  “You should go to her.”

  “No.” Keir brushed his hands through his hair. “She’s too good for me. You saw me in there. I’m a beast, and Rowan needs someone gentle. No reminders of her past. I would . . . want to claim her when I was with her. Hard, fast. I’d be possessive and dominant, and I’d only terrify her.”

  Rhys knew it was a losing battle. Keir wouldn’t go to her, especially not now, when the memories of them with the woman were so fresh in his mind. If Keir hadn’t needed to feed, Rhys knew he would not have come to him and th
e woman tonight. Tonight had been purely about survival for Keir. And maybe it had been that for him, too.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sunlight filtered in through the stained glass window of the breakfast room. It was nine, and Rhys was alone—again. The wraith had left before dawn, but Rhys had seen him change form, creep across the floor as a shadow, and filter beneath the door. He still hadn’t returned. Rhys wasn’t going to worry about him. The wraith had been well fed, his magical abilities replenished. He could take care of himself, just as Rhys could.

  Frowning, Rhys picked up the box of cereal. It had been two days since the confrontation in Rhys’ office with Suriel and Keir, and still, the memory stung. Rhys hated being kept at arm’s length, but what he despised more was the ignored request he had sent via Keir for Bran, the Sidhe king, to come to Velvet Haven and talk with him. Rhys wanted answers about what was being done to discover this murderer and the kind of protection he was going to have for the club’s guests. As the owner of the club where inhabitants from Annwyn mixed with mortals, Rhys felt he was entitled to a little information. The psycho killer was sacrificing both mortals and immortals, so no one was safe.

  Of course, Bran had ignored the request, which pissed Rhys off. Bran thought him either incompetent or insignificant. Either way, the Sidhe was wrong, because Rhys had no intention of being kept in the dark or brushed aside.

  Maybe Bran had reasoned out that Rhys was going to ask to be allowed to join the group of nine who were hunting for the Dark Mage. After all, he was involved, and he owed it to his own kind—mortals—and to the patrons of his club to make it as safe as possible. But instead of telling Rhys to his face that he wasn’t wanted, his uncle chose to ignore him like a child, really ramping up his pissed-off state.

  Sitting around during the day while his club was closed allowed Rhys too much damned time to stew and brood over the injustice of it all. He was an action kind of guy, and inaction made him irritable and snappy. His nerves were stretched thin, and the whole situation was beginning to wear on him. So, too, were the dreams he kept having of the sexy blonde. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her image. Hell, he didn’t even have to close his eyes. Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming about her, and those daydreams naturally evolved into steamy vignettes of sex.