Candy Kisses: Four of Hearts

by Elizabeth Jewell

  He’d expected to be gone in about three strokes, but somehow he kept going, deeper, harder, while she clasped her legs around his hips and pressed her breasts into his body. And suddenly she came again, shivery, and with the ululation of triple voices echoing in the room.

  And, finally, he broke. He’d held it back so long he was afraid it might not happen, but finally his body gave in, and he came harder than he’d ever come before, the pulsing, concentric, wringing sensation almost painful. He had lost control of his body, and sounds came out of him without his consciously forming them. Animal, demon sounds. Fangs burst through his gums, pricking his lips, and he had to push himself back from Diana to keep from burying his teeth in her throat.

  She only smiled up into his face, her thighs clenched against his hips. He closed his eyes and let the last, suffocating wave of orgasm take him. His whole body spasmed, and he was helpless to it, until it finally worked its way through him, and he was wrung and empty.

  He forced his fangs back. Diana drew him down, cradling him against her. He nestled his face against her throat as she stroked his hair.

  “You have done well, dear Niall, as we knew you would.”

  “Yeah,” he managed weakly. But he knew what was next. He wasn’t sure he was up to it, but he also knew he had little choice. With the Sisters, he couldn’t just roll over and say, “I’m done now.” There were rules. Those rules would work to his advantage for a while, if the whole process didn’t kill him.

  And it was entirely possible it could.

  When he had first met the Sisters, in Montana in the thirties, they’d told him they’d tried many times to fulfill themselves with human men. Over half the men had ended up dead. Half of those who’d survived had been rendered impotent.

  “But a vampire,” they’d said. “A vampire might possess the stamina we require.”

  And apparently he had, because here he was, seventy years later, being put through the wringer again.

  Diana cradled him for a time, letting him lie there on her, while the other two Sisters caressed him. Their fingers slid over his body, easing tired muscles, replenishing him in a way he didn’t really understand. Diana’s embrace was warm, her body soft under him, and she didn’t seem to mind his weight on her. He lay still, lost in the slow rhythm of her breathing, feeling the gentle slide of hands over his back, listening to her heartbeat.

  Finally, Diana pushed gently at him, eased him off her and onto his back.

  “Twice more for you. Then we go on.”

  Niall closed his eyes. Diana drifted away from him as Artemis and Ariadne moved in, settling on either side on him on the bed. Ariadne bent over him and took him into her mouth.

  He was flaccid, tired, but the touch of her hot mouth revived him. He let his hips twitch, pulsing a little into her mouth. She hummed, the sound vibrating against the head of his cock. He made a choking sound; he was too tired to moan properly. The energy was coming back though, flowing into him as hands caressed his body.

  Ariadne’s mouth was impossibly deep, magically so, he was certain. She took him in to the root, pulling, sucking at him. She worked him until he was solid and thick again, and he knew not all the heat flowing into his pelvis was natural arousal. There was magic here, filling him through Ariadne. He was helpless to it. Fire rose hard inside him, so fast, and he clutched at the bed, Artemis suddenly bending over him, licking his mouth, kissing him hard and deep while Ariadne’s mouth worked him and her hand cupped his scrotum, lifted it, pressed his testicles against his body. Her hot hand made him flinch, then shift, trying to push into her palm.

  He thrust hard now, hums of pleasure rising all around him. His cock slammed into Ariadne’s mouth, which had become deep and hot and open, accepting him. Suddenly she moved her hand down from his balls and slid a wet finger inside him, and pushed up, hard. He exploded, clenching the sheets, shoving his head back into the bed and moaning, the sound wrenched out of him as he came, emptying in a blaze of white-hot ecstasy into Ariadne’s laughing mouth.

  It hung there for a long moment, surrounding him in a bubble of absolute stillness, then finally letting him back down. Hands slid over him, easing him. Lips -- he wasn’t sure whose -- brushed his shins, his thighs.

  One more, he thought. One more, and they’re going to want it right away. He didn’t know if he could summon the energy for another round. But he had to. No choice. One more, and then he would get a chance to refuel.

  It had to be Artemis, of course. She was still next to him on the bed; he rolled toward her, embraced her, kissed her face and throat.

  “How do you want it?” he asked her.

  “It is good,” she said, and the other Sisters picked up the usual chorus, “when you are inside us.”

  He had no problem with that. He maneuvered Artemis under him. She writhed against him not in protest but in lusty arousal, rubbing her body on him like a cat. Her skin was hot, velvety. He grabbed her by the waist, holding her still to suckle her breasts, but she kept moving. He laughed against her nipple. It was like trying to ride an untamed horse.

  He had some experience in that area, though. Pulling hard on her breast with his mouth, he smoothed his hands down her sides, quieting her. She arched under him, but moved more slowly.

  Hands clasped his buttocks while a body settled between his legs. Diana, he thought, though he wasn’t positive. The hands slid up his back and her breasts pushed against him.

  “Do not wait too long, dear Niall.”

  Ariadne’s legs opened under him and he pushed against her wet heat. But he wasn’t ready. Damn dick, anyhow. When you didn’t want it hard, it was always standing the hell up, and when you needed it hard, it was floppy and useless. Of course, he’d given it a pretty good workout already, so he couldn’t blame it particularly.

  Diana’s teeth closed on the back of his neck, hard. He jumped, startled.

  “Now,” the other two voices said in unison, and he felt Diana’s teeth break his skin. “Now.”

  He bent back into Diana’s body, into the hard clench of her teeth on his neck. He could feel blood running down his shoulder, could smell it.

  That did it. The pain, the smell of his own blood, the knowledge that he could quite likely die here if he didn’t summon a workable erection now. Too much pressure, certainly, but finally his body rose to the occasion.

  Artemis was still wiggling too much, though. Hefting Diana’s weight on his back, he lifted himself away from Artemis and flipped her over. She tilted her hips back toward him and he grabbed her, shoved into her from behind, then let his weight bear her back down to the bed.

  She was hot and slick and deep, and pushed back up against him as he thrust into her. Diana eased away, now that he was performing properly. Ariadne’s smaller hand slid between his thighs, cradling his tightening scrotum as he pounded into her prone Sister.

  “Now,” rose the voices in a full, round chord, but he wasn’t ready, wasn’t there… “Now!” and finally the fist clenched in his groin, then opened, and he gritted out a deep moan as he spilled himself into Artemis’ accepting body.

  His head spun as the orgasm wrenched through him, his vision black and red, his body taut, pushed to the edge of endurance. He rode the wave, looked down at Artemis’ shoulders beneath him, the curve of her slim neck. Diana’s hand touched his shoulder.

  “Now?” he said.

  “Now,” they answered in unison, and he bent his head to Artemis’ throat and bit.

  All three Sisters stiffened as Niall’s teeth went deep into Artemis’ neck. He was still inside her; he pressed in hard, one last time, her blood flooding his mouth. He gulped it greedily, feeling the energy from it revitalizing him. It tasted strange, almost bitter. Not human, but even human blood wouldn’t have burned through him like this.

  Artemis climaxed again under him, a shuddering breath coming out of her, echoed by the others. Niall drank at her throat until the last spasm passed through her, then forced his teeth free.

  A
rtemis stared up at him with wide eyes.

  “Take us,” said Diana, then Ariadne, “Take us, all of us.”

  He licked the wound on Artemis’ neck. Diana still lay on him; he shifted, rolling off Artemis and onto his back. Diana moved with him and he kept rolling until she was under him again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her head to one side. Niall bit, and fed.

  Her blood was thicker, the flavor stronger. Not demon, not human -- he had no idea what these women were, but he knew what his place was here, knew what was expected of him.

  He pressed his hand between her legs, slid his fingers inside her to feel her come, then again forced himself to stop drinking.

  Ariadne was there before he could even reach for her, offering him her throat. He hauled her up by her shoulders, set her against the headboard. In front of her, on his knees, he took her, drinking ravenously. She clutched at his upper arms, keening with pain and arousal, until she stiffened against him and the three-part chord of shared orgasm again filled the room.

  He pulled away from her, bent his head back, forced his fangs to again withdraw. Ariadne moved away from him, one hand pressed against the wound on her neck. Diana moved to him and gently wiped his mouth, then kissed him.

  “Now the rack,” she said, and all three of them laughed in anticipation.

  * * *

  1937 -- The First Encounter

  “The rack?” This sounded a little less like good sex and a little more like some kind of whacky bondage fun. He didn’t know these creatures well enough to trust them with something like that. But apparently he had no choice.

  They picked him up, the three of them maneuvering him with some kind of magic through the air until his back was against the metal rack he’d seen next to the bed when they’d brought him in here.

  He swallowed. This was making him nervous. He’d been under the impression, going in, that they didn’t want to kill him. But that didn’t necessarily preclude torture.

  He didn’t want that. Didn’t think he could stand it. Not because he was afraid of the pain, but because he was afraid he would like it. And that would mean -- what? That in almost two hundred years trying to walk a different path he’d learned nothing? That he was still the monster he’d tried to leave behind?

  Their strange, non-human blood pooled hot in his stomach, sending warmth through his dead veins. It was the strangest thing he’d ever tasted. He’d been afraid to drink at first, afraid it might kill him.

  But they were tying him up now, with soft silken cords, his wrists above his head, legs spread-eagled. He should have hung heavily from the bonds, but something held him up.

  “There is no reason to fear us, dear, lovely Niall. So far you have trusted us. Trust us again. We have no wish for you to die.”

  He let his head fall back against the rack. “Don’t hurt me.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but it came out, anyway.

  They hovered around him, their eyes keen. “You fear the pleasure you might find in torture. You fear the return of what you were.”

  They spoke gently, and he had the feeling they actually understood, sympathized.

  “Yes,” he said. The demon inside him, the evil he’d been for so long, had come close to the surface when he had fed -- close enough to frighten him. He hadn’t felt himself that close to the edge in a century. If pain brought it out of him --

  The lattice of the rack had gone warm against his naked skin. The Sisters began to hum, and the warmth grew. It was energy more than heat, he realized, and it eased into him through his skin, revitalizing him the same way the blood had.

  No, not quite the same way. The heat, the energy, was awakening something inside him, a taut, intense arousal more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. He arched back against the rack, feeling the power burn through him, the coiling of need in his pelvis.

  This was going to kill him. It would be like sunlight, heat pounding through him, turning him to ash. No wonder the human men they’d tried this with had died. He had already been pushed to the edge of his endurance, and now they wanted more…

  They touched him, hands sliding over his body. The energy changed direction, still moving through him but passing into them. His body was acting as a catalyst of some sort, converting the energy from the rack into something they could use. But there was so much of it…

  Diana pressed into him, cupped his genitals, her fingers drawing the energy through him. He lurched, gasping, and came into her hands, dry because he had nothing left to ejaculate, but the orgasm ripped through him anyway, power pouring out of him into Diana’s cupped palms.

  “I can’t --” he managed, his body bucking.

  “You can,” said Diana, then Artemis, “You can. Blessed be you, you can.”

  The warmth flooded through him again, filled him up. Diana’s hands slipped away, to be replaced by Ariadne’s.

  “Only when you are empty can you spill the power.”

  He understood then, understood why they had drained him so thoroughly before this final phase. The power from the rack had taken him over, and he was helpless in its grasp. It spilled out of him into Ariadne’s hands, then Artemis took her turn.

  “The end is near. Almost finished. You will be well.”

  He hoped they were right, because, as Artemis took him to the third climax, his vision went black and red and his head swam. For a long, pulsing moment he was certain he would never come back from it, but he did. They caressed him, kissed his face, and gently eased him down from the warm, pulsing metal of the rack.

  * * *

  The Present

  Niall woke in warmth. The blankets were soft against his skin and he felt heavy, enervated. The three sisters all lay in the bed with him. Artemis and Ariadne were curled up like kittens together next to him, Ariadne’s back pressed against his side. Diana lay on his other side, one arm draped over his chest. As he turned his head to look at her, she opened her eyes.

  “Hungry?” she asked. It was odd, hearing her speak only the single word, with no echo, but the others were asleep.

  He nodded, and she lifted herself up onto his chest, offering him her throat. The mark from only a few hours ago was gone already. He could hear the soft sound of her heartbeat, of her blood flowing, and he swallowed, automatically fighting the urge.

  “No,” she said. “Drink.”

  He slid his fingers into her hair, gentle, caressing, kissed her throat until she hummed and the other two sisters stirred against him, responding to Diana’s arousal. Then he let go of his control and bit.

  So good, the blood pouring hot down his throat. He would have this today, and then it would be back to pig’s blood. It was all right, though. He could handle it. This blood didn’t trigger the cravings, for some reason. Because it wasn’t human, no doubt. But it was so good. Sweet, thick, and it flowed through him like hot light. He let his hand slide down her body, fondled her bare breast. Her skin was warm and soft, her nipple hard against the center of his palm.

  He drank until she came, then she touched his face, pushing him gently back. He let her go and she kissed his forehead. Behind him, Ariadne and Artemis had both sat up and were waiting their turn. Ariadne moved in toward him and he embraced her, holding her close. Fearlessly, she kissed him, opening his mouth with hers, maneuvering her tongue past his fangs.

  He reveled in the moist heat of her mouth for a moment, until she drew back and tilted her head, lifting herself on him.

  “Feed,” she whispered, the word echoed by the others.

  He drank her, fondled her, and she cupped her hands between his thighs, her fingers warm and clever, coaxing his arousal. It was slow and languid, not the way it had been before. There was nothing at stake now. The important part was over. This was just for him.

  Well, perhaps not just for him. He smiled as he drank, feeling her body tauten, then convulse in release. When she signaled him, he let her go, licked the wound on her neck, then accepted Artemis into his embrace. She bent to suckle his
cock for a time before giving him leave to feed. But now even his own arousal was quieter, less urgent.

  She offered him her throat, but he laid a hand on her thigh in silent question. She smiled a little and nodded. He traced his lips over the soft skin inside her thigh, found the vein high in the crease of her groin, and bit there. With a soft, echoed moan, she arched under him and he slid his fingers inside her as he drank. It didn’t take her long to climax, and he reluctantly let her go.

  But Diana was there, waiting, and took him into her arms as he let his fangs slide back.

  “You have done well, dear Niall, so very well. We are strong again and well. One more for you, my love, and then you may go home with all our gratitude.”

  He smiled as Diana kissed him. Of course it would be her, and he didn’t mind because he liked her. She had a strength to her, born of her years -- how many, he wondered again, but doubted he would ever know. He had known the first time he’d seen the Sisters that she was the leader, the oldest, the most powerful. To finish with her was not only logical, but an honor, and he would treat it as such.

  He let her take the lead, but she rolled him on top of her, taking his weight, opening herself to him. In spite of her invitation, he held back, kissing her, letting his hands learn her body. She was full-bodied, full-breasted, soft, hot, beautiful.

  Finally all three of them said together, “Please,” and he sank into her.

  No hurry this time, no urgency, so he went slowly, feeling every inch of her depth as he slid in, back out, and she writhed under him, breasts pressing against his chest. She was hot and tight, silken, and he took his time, feeling her, licking the already healing wound on her throat. Her body followed his easy, languid rhythm, and when he finally came it was slow and sweet, sliding through his body like water. It was bittersweet, though, knowing that, after this, they would send him home.

  They bathed him first, in a big tub that smelled of lavender, six hands scrubbing him clean. Then they dried and dressed him, back in the clothes he’d worn here. They each kissed him one last time, then Diana settled his leather coat over his shoulders.