It wasn’t long before she was taking him deeper, licking and rubbing and pulling in a way she never thought she would with someone like Merrick. He was so cold and restrained, and yet here she was digging her nails into his ass and touching him in all kinds of private places. There was absolutely nowhere her greedy fingers didn’t want to go—though he never seemed inclined to stop her.
No matter what she did, he hardly flinched, not even when she grazed the length of his swollen shaft with her tiny new teeth. He simply let it happen, and by God that was one hell of a turn-on. He didn’t care about his cool façade anymore. He just wanted her to devour him and him to devour her to the detriment of everything else, and for a while she did too.
And then she saw Zeke out of the corner of her eye.
She had no idea how long he’d been standing over there, by the stairs. She only knew he was there now, watching and watching in this strange silent way she couldn’t quite place on the emotional spectrum. Was he angry? She supposed he should be angry. Merrick had kept him from her for so long, only to take her for his own. It had to look bad.
But he didn’t exactly seem like he thought so. He wasn’t frowning. His gaze hardly looked accusatory. If anything, she would have labeled his expression relieved, and only didn’t because of how weird and convenient that sounded. Why would he be relieved? His lover was fucking his other lover in the mouth. Only an automaton from her deepest, darkest fantasies wouldn’t mind something like that.
She knew it, she knew it, and yet she couldn’t shake that impression.
It got stronger the longer he stared. He tilted his head just as Merrick had, as though looking at something strange but oh so compelling. And when she slipped and let herself feel the sensations coursing through her body—when she let her head go back for one tiny moment, hand still working over Merrick’s cock, every muscle tensing under the onslaught from his mouth—she could see that curiosity deepening.
It wasn’t even curiosity, really. She could name it for all the things it seemed to be: desire and longing and relief. He didn’t care how this came about, she could tell. He only cared that the obstacle was now removed. He didn’t have to worry about Merrick disapproving or vampire issues or a single other thing. He could finally act on his desires. He strode forward and sank to his knees, kissing the place that Merrick had bitten.
He kissed it long and deep and desperately, moaning with a kind of abandon she could really relate to. She almost melted through the floor when he did it. All these weeks of resistance and agony and now finally, finally this orgy of giving in—it was like nothing else she’d ever experienced. She felt his teeth skimming the surface of her skin and his hands roaming and roaming over her body, and didn’t know what to thrill over first. The teeth made her think of that taste and that warmth and that craving, still sharp in her. But the hands, Lord the hands . . .
He wasn’t rough exactly, but she wouldn’t have called him gentle either. He seemed too far gone for gentle. Waiting had turned him into an impatient animal, so ready to feel all the things it had been denied. And when anything got in the way—like her nightdress, or the tangle of their bodies—he simply shoved it out of the way.
She heard material tear and felt the air on her bare breasts, but she didn’t mind in the slightest. She had one man licking her clit and the other fondling her naked body, and both were more eager about it than any man she’d been with prior. Merrick was almost pressing his face into her spread cunt, just to get at more of her. And when Zeke cupped her breasts, he moaned against her throat. He moaned to feel those soft curves and her stiff little nipples—the ones that tightened further when he started pinching them.
He couldn’t seem to help himself. Each step he took led him to something even filthier, until finally those teasing fingers were between her legs. They were between her legs while Merrick was still there, licking and kissing.
Of course she had to open her eyes for that—if only to see how the two of them were achieving this Rubik’s Cube of contact. It felt like five tongues and twelve hands were touching her all at once, and as it turned out that assessment wasn’t far off. All she could see were slippery fingers and soft lips sliding and squirming through her folds. Her wetness glistened on Merrick’s cheeks and coated the back of Zeke’s hands . . . all of which was arresting enough on its own. She could hardly think just from watching it happen. Her body was so stuffed with sensation she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t come.
But then she thought of what they were doing, she really thought about it, and the pleasure thickened, and ripened. They were working together. They weren’t fighting each other for space. Indeed, after a moment Merrick pulled back briefly, and let Zeke do what she knew he was dying to.
Merrick let Zeke kiss her too. He even helped—parting her soft lips with too-clever fingers, so that Zeke might get better access. So that he could easily find her clit, and lick and lick its swollen tip. It was unbelievable. It made her sob.
Everything made her sob. The slow slide of his tongue finally making contact; the bristle of fever between them, now so strong it seemed to sting. The manner in which Merrick stroked Zeke’s hair as he went at it . . . Oh, that was really something to see. Not only were they both allowing this, not only was that rivalry gone, but Merrick was actually encouraging Zeke to lick her—with his touch and with his words, oh God his words.
“Yes that’s it,” he said, as every nerve in her body stood on end. “Lick her like that, like that, make her come.”
Somehow she had expected him to be more invested in what Zeke might like—namely that warming taste of her. Only he wasn’t, he wasn’t. He wanted her to feel good. And he wanted it all to happen while he gazed at everything with eyes that reminded her of melted frost, of mist, of a million things unsaid.
None of which she understood. How could she, with the pleasure rising and rising like this? All she could think about was the sounds and sights and sensations, every other consideration shoved to the side just so she could feel it all. Merrick was saying more things now, hotter things, and she had to listen. She had to take in what he was saying, right now and right here. She didn’t have a choice, when the words were fuck her. If he’d gone with something tamer, or suggested a less arousing activity, she might have been able to focus. If Zeke hadn’t asked if it was okay, maybe she could have discussed the finer points of having a ménage with two vampires who had been lovers for however many hundred years.
But once he had, all the strength and sense in her went toward saying one word.
“Yes,” she said, “yes.” And then, in case he’d changed his mind in the last three seconds, she added a “please.” She would have added seventeen pleases and a gift basket if it meant he got to her faster—but thankfully he didn’t need any such encouragement. He already had half his clothes off. Both of them had half their clothes off.
It was like suddenly being in the middle of an underwear commercial for Hunks in Trunks, only with more blood and hunger and lascivious licking of things. Merrick’s tongue curled out to slide over his upper lip, and Zeke was almost urgently sucking on his fingers. Both of them were shaking and shaking as though just being away from her body for the five seconds it took to arrange things was too much.
But she couldn’t fault either of them. It was too much for her too. She couldn’t lie still and let Zeke fumble his way between her spread legs, cock curved and slick with pre-come, ready to ease into her willing cunt. She couldn’t even settle for stroking him and tugging him toward her—though she did both.
She had to keep reaching for Merrick at the same time. She needed Merrick back in her mouth immediately, no matter what the prudish part of her brain said about that. The prudish part of her brain could shut the fuck up, because really if it had wanted to stage an intervention, it should have done it hours ago, days ago, weeks ago. At this point it was far too late.
Right now she wanted to suck his cock while Zeke fucked her pussy, and nothing was going to stop her
—not even her own inflexible body and Merrick’s refusal to come any closer. He seemed reluctant to do anything that meant he had to stop touching Zeke, but that was fine by her. All she had to do was bend and twist a bit, and said reluctance was no longer an issue. He could stay right there, and she could get what she needed.
Everybody happy, she thought, and though the sentiment was sort of flippant, it really rang true. They made a circle like this, a close-knit and unbreakable circle, each one giving the other what they hadn’t even known they wanted. Merrick’s head went back when she touched him, as though he wasn’t sure that sort of pleasure was possible until she did it.
And it wasn’t the feel of Zeke sliding inside her that really sparked her off. It was when he reflexively grabbed and squeezed her hand, in reaction to whatever he was experiencing. It was the sense of being surrounded and devoured by them, in a way that really made her see to the bones of what was happening here. She was shedding her old skin, and taking on some other self. My vampire self, she thought, but it was more than that.
She was becoming the kind of person who could take hold of Merrick’s shoulder, and pull him down for a kiss. The kind of person who could tell Zeke to do it harder, harder, faster, and not feel the slightest bit of shame. She didn’t look at their faces and wonder what they were thinking, so full of doubt she could hardly do anything at all. Instead she saw their expressions for what they were: open and eager and desirous.
Merrick might have stiffened when her mouth touched his, but she could see his eyes fluttering closed in complete and utter delight when he let himself feel it rather than think on it. And Zeke did frown to see it, but there was something beyond that frown. There was that relief; there was that excitement. She could practically see it dancing behind his eyes: the unfolding possibilities, each more outrageous than the last.
This is what we can be now, she thought at him, and knew he understood. It was there in the tightening of his hand in hers, and the suddenly erratic jerk of his hips. He was fumbling and falling into every filthy idea he’d ever had, and he was doing it so fiercely it was going to make him come. It was going to make her come—and then she did and there was nothing but that. Nothing but the feel of him going over and the surge of sensation as orgasm seized control of her whole body.
She wanted to scream, but couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t even grab something and hold on—though God knew she needed to. It was like being flung at some great rock face of pleasure. Every time she tried to get a secure grip on something—such as her ability to reason or right herself—another steep drop suddenly presented itself. She found herself scrabbling at nothing, every muscle so tense she was sure she would never be able to unwind any of them.
And quite clearly Merrick and Zeke felt the same. She could actually see the tension in Merrick’s throat and along the length of him. His hand had made a fist in Zeke’s hair, and she could tell he didn’t want to let go. It didn’t matter though. Zeke didn’t seem to want him to let go either. His back was arched to accommodate that painful grip, in a way that said only one thing: do it to me harder.
I need it, do it to me harder.
Of course she understood why. The pleasure was just too much; the great waves of it too high and hard. He needed something to focus him, to keep him grounded, and that tight hand in his hair was it. She knew it was, because she felt almost exactly the same. When Merrick stiffened and jerked and flooded her mouth, his hand went to her hair.
It tightened there, reflexively.
And it was divine, oh God, it was divine. It made her mind reel to even more possibilities—ones filled with biting and prickling pain and all kinds of perverted things. Was that what he was like? Would he do that sort of stuff for her, if she asked him to? She suspected he would even if she didn’t, and somehow that was as sweet as every other thought of their possible future.
It wasn’t just the idea of being a vampire, of being with them, of love and other glorious things. It was the sense that she could discard her old sexual self. She didn’t have to have any limitations after this. They had already gone as far as she had ever previously imagined going. Now there was more, there was further.
There was freedom, total freedom.
Or at least, she thought so in that one brief moment of bliss. How could she do anything but? They both kissed her in the aftermath, with the same sort of relief and gratitude she felt toward them. They both held her so tenderly, as though everything was open to them now. She couldn’t possibly have known what would happen when she awoke, some hours later. She couldn’t have.
And yet it happened, all the same.
She knew something was wrong before she opened her eyes. The spaces beside her were too cold; someone was going about their business too quietly. It reminded her of the time Michael Golightly had tried to escape their one-night stand while she was still sleeping—an idea that made her stomach sink.
That couldn’t be the case, could it? Things were probably going to be awkward between them, but not awkward in that way. It was the one good thing about having a crazy vampire bond. You couldn’t suddenly realize you’d made a terrible mistake and actually hated the person you’d just fucked.
Every feeling was right there all the time, whether you wanted it to be or not. You could try to pretend it wasn’t, or act like you hated the other person, but the truth was always obvious. One touch and it spilled out all over the place. One look and it burned through you.
She could see it in Zeke’s eyes without even asking. She turned her head and looked at him and there it was: that unquenchable fire. He was clearly panicked and not particularly happy, but it burned out of him nonetheless. It burned in her too, around her more reasonable instincts. It beat behind her every urge to ask him, like a second heart.
She had to fight to make herself heard over its thunder.
“Is everything okay?”
He stopped pacing midstep the second she spoke. The hand he was obsessively shoving through his hair stilled where it was, and she could see him thinking thinking thinking of a good answer. The right answer, she thought.
But even when he couched it in comforting terms, it didn’t lessen the impact. “Merrick is upset,” he said, which only made things worse. Upset seemed like such a loaded word when applied to him. He was too large for such a small feeling. Trying to fit him into that one tiny adjective made parts of him start to spill out.
It made her afraid to ask for more—mainly because she already knew the answer.
And she was right to be afraid.
“He feels guilty about . . . how things happened.”
Of course it was guilt, of course it was. He’d come down here and done all the things Zeke had been wanting to without so much as a by your leave. She’d been a fool to think it wouldn’t eventually be a problem. Zeke was probably seething beneath his concern. She’d probably torn them both asunder.
She had to make it right.
Somehow she had to make it right.
“It was mostly my fault though. I touched his arm and then the fever happened and when he kissed me . . . I didn’t stop him and I sort of let him lick me and—”
It was almost a relief when he cut her off. She was babbling like a maniac, after all.
But then he explained why he was cutting her off, and it was suddenly much less of a good thing. His tone was too impatient, his dark gaze too fraught, his words too confusing.
“That’s not what he feels guilty about, Cora. Nobody cares about who fucked who first. I don’t care about who fucked who first—I wanted him to want you. I was relieved the fever got hold of him. None of that is the problem.”
All of which should have been quite comforting really. Only it wasn’t, it wasn’t.
Now the real issue was hanging over her, like some terrible approaching object half-obscured by clouds. She could just about see its edges, if she squinted and put her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. If they shifted a bit to the left, the whole thing would co
me into view—though if she was being honest, she didn’t really want it to.
She wanted to play dumb for just a little while longer.
“Then what? Why is he upset? He should be happy—we can all be together now, forever,” she said, and knew before he replied how silly she sounded.
Things were never really that easy.
Unpredictable stuff always got in the way.
“Cora, he vowed to never create another vampire. He swore he would never let anyone suffer again the way I did, the way he did. And now not only did he fail to prevent me from turning you . . . he is the one responsible for sealing your fate. He let you drink from him. That’s the final step, that prevents you from ever going back to being human. You are fully a vampire because of him, doomed to roam the earth forever, never truly at home. Never truly a part of society. Always in the shadows, forever struggling to feed without killing. He won’t forgive himself.”
She shook her head, even though she could see by his expression how grave this situation was. Clearly he didn’t believe it could be fixed—but damn it, she was going to try.
“He can. He must. I’ll talk to him—I’ll tell him what I just told you. I want forever like this. I’m not in any pain, I’m not suffering. I’m happy, Zeke. I’m happy.”
“It doesn’t matter, darling. It won’t matter what you say. I tried to tell him all those years ago that I was glad, eventually. That the suffering was worth it. That he has made me a life I never thought I could have, even if it wasn’t one I wanted for you—but he doesn’t understand. For him, this is and always has been a curse. His life was taken from him in a way ours wasn’t. There was no love or desire in the thing that turned him, and it colors everything he does or says or feels.”
Frostbitten Page 7