Planetary Passions 6: Double Trouble (Gemini)

by Allyson James

Pol slowly eased his body away from her then withdrew his finger from her ass a fraction of an inch at a time.

  When he finally released her, Fiona turned around and leaned against the windowsill, hugging her chest. She breathed hard, her throat dry and tight. “I don’t know if I can.”

  Pol’s eyes were dark as sin, his smile nearly taking her to the point of orgasm without him even touching her. “You can. I have the patience to teach you. All you have to do is surrender yourself absolutely to me.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “That’s all, is it?”

  Pol came close to her and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “If you don’t surrender yourself, I might hurt you. You have to be relaxed and open to take me, and you can only do that if you let me have full control over you.”

  “Full control. Oh my.”

  She thought she’d adore being under his full control, doing anything he said and reaping the incredible feelings he would give her. If he made love anything like Cas did, she was in for a rare treat.

  Her years of training as a scholar, of not accepting everything at face value and not getting excited until something was verified, made her hesitate a little. Giving up control was something Fiona was very bad at.

  But Pol was right. She’d read about what he wanted to do, although she’d never done it herself or dreamed any man would offer. If the woman wasn’t completely relaxed and trusting, it could be painful.

  On the other hand, if the woman surrendered her body to her lover, the results could be astonishing.

  Before her hesitant self could interfere, Fiona said, “I’ll do it.”

  He grinned in the dark, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Then turn around and bend yourself across that table.”

  He nodded toward the bare wooden table to one side of the room, surrounded by gaily painted wooden chairs. Fiona studied it, a simple piece of furniture about to be transformed into an erotic jungle gym.

  Slowly she approached it, moved a chair out of the way and leaned over, stretching her torso and arms across the cool, hard surface.

  “Will it be too high?” she asked. Her legs and body made a perfect right angle, and she had the idea that her butt had to be elevated.

  “‘Twill be fine.”

  She heard him approach then felt something at her feet. “Stand on this,” he said.

  She looked down and saw a painted wooden stepstool, longer than it was wide, resting where Pol had set it. Obediently, she stepped up on it and bent over again.

  Pol rested his hands on her hips. “Perfect.” He slid her shirt upward, baring her ass, rubbing her hips and buttocks briskly until they warmed. “Are you ready, love?”

  Fiona gulped, her unfettered breasts pressing into the table. “Won’t Cas wake up?”

  “Cas could sleep through a Bacchanalia. I know this for a fact, I’ve watched him do it. He missed all the fun that night.” He leaned over her, the ridge of his jeans-encased cock pressing the length of her crease. “Are you ready?”

  Fiona gulped. “Sure. Why not?”

  To her complete disappointment, he backed away. She turned her head to watch him move to a shadow on the floor near the door. “I happened to purchase a bottle of fine oil while I was out. Lavender, I think it is.”

  “You happened to purchase it?” Fiona asked.

  “I wonder why I decided to do that?”

  His voice was full of smiles. He came back to her and set a glass bottle next to her where she could see it. Pol worked out the glass stopper with sinewy fingers and laid it on the table. The sweet scent of lavender floated to her.

  Pol lifted the bottle and poured a stream of glistening oil over his fingers. He leaned close to Fiona as he set down the bottle and stoppered it. “Now, Fiona. Give yourself to me.”

  He rested the hand he hadn’t oiled on her head, the weight warm. Fiona drew a breath and slowly let it out, willing her body to relax.

  A warmth shot through her, followed by the sensation of fire. She gasped and tensed, then let out her breath again as she realized that Pol had connected with her, just as Cas had done.

  She could feel her hair against Pol’s palm, could feel the sleek oil that coated his fingers with the same intensity that she felt the table beneath her and her bare feet on the stool. The hammering of her heart matched his.

  When he parted her buttocks again, she felt his fingers on her as well as the firm tightness of her anal star. She groaned as he slid one slick finger inside her.

  It was as though she pleasured herself at the same time he pleasured her. She felt every inch of herself around his finger, every flex of his finger inside her. She squeezed and relaxed, not even aware she did it.

  “That is good,” Pol said softly. “Exactly like that. Do it again.”

  She tried to get her body to obey, but only when she let go of the control did she squeeze hard and release, opening more each time.

  “Perfect.” Pol’s voice soothed her. “You need to be ready for me. I’m big, sweetheart.”

  Fiona knew that already. She’d held his lovely cock in her hand and taken it in her mouth, and the thought that she’d soon have it in her ass sent her spiraling toward climax.

  Pol laughed, feeling her excitement. “You’re moving too fast. Wait for me.”

  Fiona opened her mouth to laugh with him, then she let out a tiny scream as a second finger joined his first. “Oh gods.”

  “How do you feel, love?” He leaned over, careful not to move his fingers too fast, and brushed a kiss to her cheek.

  “Full,” she said. “Full and tight…and open.”

  “Good. That’s how I want you to feel. Keep taking me, love.” He moved his fingers in and out, slowly, in perfect rhythm. Fiona felt herself relax, wanting his fingers deeper with every push, wanted to open and accept more of him.

  “Oh, sweetheart, you are good at this.”

  Pol’s approval made her shiver in delight. She felt so wanton and so excited at the same time, bent over the table, the cool wood against her cheek, with her ass in the air and a gorgeous man’s fingers sliding in and out of her. She was wicked and sexy, and she loved it.

  Pol withdrew and replenished the oil on his fingers. The bottle clunked back to the table, then she squealed in delight when he slid three fingers into her.

  “Ooohhhh,” she moaned, moving quickly toward incoherence. Her hips moved of their own accord, she babbled meaningless sounds, and above all she loved what he did to her.

  The beautiful thing was, if he liked it, she could do the same to him, give him this same pleasure she was enjoying the heck out of.

  But there was one pleasure she couldn’t give him. After a nice ten minutes of him playing with her with his three fingers he withdrew his hand and reached for the bottle of oil.

  Then at her opening she felt the firm bluntness of his cock, slick with oil.

  “Oh, Pol,” she begged. “Please.”

  He positioned himself at her anal star, which had relaxed and widened until Fiona was weak in the knees. Only the table kept her from falling over completely, and her hips rose in anticipation.

  “Slowly. I’ll do it slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Please, Pol, make it hurt good.”

  He chuckled. “Darling, you are a demigod’s dream come true.”

  Carefully, almost unbearably so, Pol pushed the tip of his cock inside her.

  “It’s good,” she panted. “It’s good, it’s so good.”

  “It is.” Pol’s voice was a groan. “Fiona, you are so fucking tight.”

  “More. I want more.”

  “When you’re ready, sweetheart. Oh gods.”

  His voice broke as more of his oiled cock slipped inside her. He gripped the edges of the table—she sensed his hands biting into the wood as the feeling of her squeezing him rampaged him.

  Slowly, just as slowly as Cas had pushed himself into her pussy, Pol slid himself into her ass.

  He took his time. She felt the pulse that
raced through his cock against her walls, spreading her, relaxing her, transferring his excitement to her.

  She’d never felt anything like it in her life. It burned and hurt and at the same time she was so open and accepting.

  She groaned into the tabletop, her voice echoing from the wood. Pol pressed himself deep inside, the feral sounds he made exciting her.

  “I know why my brother loves you,” he whispered, voice ragged. “I know why he thinks you’re sweet.”

  “I love him,” she moaned.

  “I know, baby. I know. You feel so good.”

  His cock moved. He began to slowly withdraw then he pressed back in, his hands hard on the tabletop.

  As with Cas, she felt what he felt, the silken ends of his own hair brushing his shoulders as he threw back his head, the firm press of her on the length of his cock, the buildup inside him.

  Her first orgasm hit her swiftly, before she even knew it was coming. She writhed against the table, the edge rubbing her pussy in a satisfying way. “Fuck me,” she cried.

  “Most definitely.”

  Pol moved smoothly in and out, holding himself hard to keep the pain at bay, to make sure she felt only pleasure.

  Fiona’s heart pumped with joy and gratitude. Pol was a demigod. He could play with her and hurt her and discard her—mythology was filled with gods, demigods and heroes who weren’t exactly kind to the women they seduced.

  But like Cas, he was taking it slow when he didn’t have to, giving her pleasure when he didn’t have to.

  He could take what he wanted and not care what she felt. He was far more powerful than she and he knew it.

  But she trusted him. If he had been Dionysus, the god whose terrible power she’d glimpsed earlier that day, she’d be terrified. But this was Pol of the wicked smiles and dark eyes and hands that caressed and soothed her.

  Both Pol and Cas had made sure she was ready to take a demigod.

  She felt more than ready. “Please, Pol,” she gasped. “More, please.”

  Pol laughed, his voice hoarse. “If you insist.”

  The moment her orgasm died off, another swelled in its place. She felt his impending orgasm at the same time, his excitement at being pushed into her as far as he could go.

  “Thank you,” he groaned. “Fiona, you’re so fucking good.”

  “I can’t stand it.”

  “Yes you can, baby. Just a little longer.”

  She squealed and moaned against the table, the wood cool on her face. Her entire body was hot, her limbs heavy, but at the same time she was wound tight with excitement.

  How many times could she orgasm tonight? The way Pol laughed behind her he intended her to do it several times more.

  And then—”No,” he gasped. “Not yet.”

  Fiona wriggled against him, wanting him to come as much as she wanted this incredible feeling to go on forever.

  His seed shot inside her as he crushed her hips against him. The spinning darkness in his mind crashed over her along with her own emotions, a double orgasm—filling them both.

  They both breathed hard and raw as Pol slid out of her and leaned over her on the table. She felt every inch of his hard-muscled body melding into her back and thighs, his limbs heavy with release.

  A surge of satisfaction welled through her. He’d stretched her so wide, and yet she could do it, she could take him.

  They stayed like that for a long time, both knowing they needed to wind down, neither wanting to.

  Pol pressed kisses to her hair, nuzzling her. “You are good at that, sweetheart. You’ve never done it before?”

  “No. I’m sure I’d remember that.”

  “Thank you for letting me be the first.”

  She grinned against the tabletop. “My pleasure.”

  Pol straightened, taking away his warm weight. Fiona’s heart squeezed in disappointment. She wanted him, like Cas, to take her into his arms and touch her a little longer.

  Pol patted her backside. She heard him slip on his jeans and zip them up then slide the sandals back on his feet.

  “I think I need a walk after that. Come with me to the taverna?”

  Fiona groaned. If she went to a taverna and drank wine right now, she’d slither right under the table. Pol would have to carry her home over his shoulder, and then they might get up to more fun.

  She groaned again. “No, I need to sleep.”

  He laughed softly as though knowing exactly why she couldn’t move. “Go and snuggle with Cas. He’ll like that.”

  He gave her ass another pat then walked out the door.

  She stayed bent over the table, unable to make her limbs move as she heard him move down the stairs and back to the street. She could fall asleep here, her butt in the air, her cheek pressed against the cool wood. Wouldn’t that look ridiculous when the maid came in tomorrow?

  But it was a nice table, very comfortable. Her legs were nearly numb, but that was fine. If she fell she doubted she’d feel a thing.

  Who knew she could stand so much sex, and who knew she’d love it like this? She’d never realized there was a wild, wicked, fun Fiona inside her who thought nothing of having missionary-position sex with one man and then having anal sex with his brother in the next room.

  And the missionary-position sex—the usual way a man and woman made love in the dark—had been nothing short of mind-blowing. She’d have plain old sex like that any day of the week. And on weekends and holidays too.

  She heard Pol walk by outside, his step light, whistling. How he could be so energetic after fucking her like that, she didn’t know. She thought she’d sleep for a week.

  Speaking of which, she really couldn’t fall asleep on the table. Her body thought about the soft nest in the bedroom with Cas already in it and wanted to go there.

  She finally straightened up, moving gingerly, and stepped off the stool. She yawned and stretched then turned to the bedroom door.

  She froze, heart in her throat. Cas was leaning on the doorframe of the open door to the bedroom, his arms folded across his bare chest, his brows drawn into a fearsome scowl.

  Chapter Eleven

  He wore nothing but his jeans, the waistband riding low on his hips, moonlight playing on his bare torso. His intense gaze held hers, eyes glittering in the dark.

  Fiona gulped. “Cas.”

  He remained fixed, his body shadowed. He was the beautifully wrought statue of a demigod, only his hair stirring in the faint breeze from the window.

  Fiona’s shirt had slid down to cover her bare ass, but she felt more exposed than she ever had in her life. “You saw,” she whispered.

  Cas didn’t answer. He watched her, his face set, his body utterly still.

  Fiona’s heart raced. She loved Cas. She wanted him to love her, and the thought of hurting him broke her heart. And yet Pol…

  “Get on the table,” Cas said. “On your back.”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “Now.”

  The word was harsh and didn’t want to take no for an answer. Fiona retreated to the table, and under his unwavering gaze, stepped up on the stepstool and sat her butt on the edge of the table.

  “Lie down,” he commanded.

  Fiona slowly lay back, the tabletop hard against her spine. She breathed rapidly and wondered how much more of Cas and Pol she could take tonight.

  Cas remained by the door. “Pull up your shirt. Show me your pussy.”

  Well, maybe she could take a little more. She lifted the hem of the long shirt and spread her thighs a little.

  “Show it to me,” Cas said. He pushed himself from the doorframe and moved toward her slowly, like a panther stalking its prey. “Show me how wet it is.”

  Fiona tentatively moved her fingers through her folds, drawing a fingertip across the opening of her quim. Cream obligingly flowed out to cover her fingers.

  Cas made a noise in his throat. He stopped at the end of the table, standing as motionlessly as a big cat, his eyes as glittering
as a predator’s. He slid the stool out of the way and stood between Fiona’s legs, his dark gaze taking in her rumpled shirt, her body spread before him, her fingers playing in her quim.

  He watched for a moment longer, then swiftly unzipped his jeans and let them rest on his thighs, not bothering to kick them off. He grasped her ankles with firm hands and jerked them to his shoulders, lifting her hips from the table.

  His face set, he positioned his cock on her opening and shoved it inside.

  There was no waiting until she got used to him or until their feelings melded. He began to take her with hard thrusts, one, two, three… Moving faster and faster. Her back banged against the table, which rocked and creaked under the onslaught.

  He held her legs firmly and fucked her hard as the table legs groaned against the floor. Fucking was the right word. This was no lovemaking. He’d seen what Pol had done to her and he was punishing her.

  Punishing her by driving his cock into her. She lifted her hips, meeting his thrusts, squirming and eager. She felt him and herself at the same time, smelled the scent of her cream and his cock and Pol’s come, a fine cocktail for her nose.

  He pounded into her, hips crashing against hers. He made no noise save for a few soft grunts.

  “Fuck,” Fiona groaned. “Fuck me, Cas. Damn, I love you so much.”

  He growled something unintelligible, then he closed his eyes and came. His sleek hair tickled her feet as he moved his head from side to side, hips pulsing with his climax. She rode it with him, her climax squeezing her entire body until she heard someone screaming.

  The screams must have come from her, because her throat went raw and the noises became hoarse and broken.

  Cas slammed into her one more time, holding himself against her hard while she squeezed him. Then he withdrew in a swift move and lifted her against him.

  His arms crushed the breath out of her. He was shaking all over, his body shining with sweat, his hair damp with it. His cock lay heavy against her thigh, half rigid, indicating it could flare to life in no time at all.

  Fiona twined her arms softly around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Cas? Are you all right? I’m sorry about Pol. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve never done that before.”