by H. E. Trent
When she was on as far as she could go, he let out a breath and pulled her chest down against his.
They just laid there like that, unmoving in the dark. She listened to his fast breaths, felt his heart pound against his chest.
Noticed the shaking of his hands at the small of her back.
“Murki? Do you want to stop?”
He shook his head. Nipped at her ear. Letting out a breath, he gently rocked his hips, worked them side-to-side to make himself more room.
She could help.
She pressed her palms to the bed and got her knees under her. She rode him without leaving his chest, without losing the sound of his heartbeat.
His head rolled to the side and he moved his hands to her ass. He kneaded the flesh as she rocked, shuddered as she rolled her hips. His stomach pulled in on a sharp breath, and she pushed up off his chest as his nails pierced her skin, his body writhing from apparent pain.
“Murki!” She tried to get off him, but firm hands at her waist kept her still. Not Murki’s.
Trigrian.
Caught.
He’ll be angry.
“Whatever you do, stay on him,” he said.
“I’m…hurting him.”
Murki, still shuddering, thrust into her, his mouth falling open in a silent scream and eyes wide with pain.
He dug deeper into her ass, and she cried out, and not just because it hurt but because he was hurting.
“He’s hurting you, too,” Trigrian said reasonably.
“I…I don’t mind. It’s not the same for him.”
“You have to let him.”
Murki thrust again and again, the speed of his body’s shakes increasing.
“This can’t be good for him.”
“It has to be done.”
“I don’t understand.”
Trigrian settled onto the bed beside them, keeping his hands on Courtney’s waist.
In the dim light of the growing dawn, she could see him. See them both, now.
He looked down at the place where she and Murki connected. His lips parted. He drew in a sharp breath and rolled that violet gaze up to her. “It…feels good for you?”
“It does,” she admitted, “but I can’t enjoy myself knowing he’s in pain.”
“Make him come quickly, then, and I will…I will do my best to help you afterward. If you want me to.”
“Trigrian…”
He gave her waist an insistent twist, as if to say, “Fuck him.”
Murki loosened his fingers on her ass and gave her another of those desperate, halting thrusts.
“Do this for him, Courtney. Please.”
“What is it that I’m doing?”
“Giving him a chance.”
“How?”
He sighed. “Too much talking. Ride him. Make him come, if you can. I’ll explain later.”
“You never seem to explain much of anything.”
“I will explain,” he barked.
Murk gave her haunches another punishing squeeze, and she gasped, gripping his wrists.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
He nodded.
She dug her knees against his thighs and tried for gentleness, in spite of what her body was calling out for. With every flinch, every cringe of his, she wanted to stop, but Trigrian urged her on.
He whispered, “You look so pretty atop him. I wish you could see.”
He moved one hand from her waist up to her nape, beneath her curls, and rubbed.
“I like the way the skin of your ass shimmers in the light as you move. Makes me want to…bite.”
So bite.
He didn’t, of course. Just kept up that gentle rubbing as she kept up her gentle riding.
“Can you move faster? Ride him hard and milk his cock?” His hand fluttered at her backside, and she looked back to see him palming Murk’s balls.
Positioning himself behind Court and between Murk’s legs, he fondled, occasionally brushing his thumb across the place where she and Murk were joined, and drawing a moan from her.
There was hands-on, and then there was hands-on.
She must have been still for too long, mesmerized by Trigrian’s brazen assistance, that she annoyed Murk.
He gave her another slap to the ass to get her moving again.
“All right, bossy.”
“Did I not tell you he was?” Trigrian asked.
“I tend not to take people’s words for things.” Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the fullness within her, of trying to find those spots within her that made her toes curl and muscles clench.
She tried to block out Murk’s evident pain as she rode him, and her wondering of why he would invite the agony, but ignoring his stress was too difficult. Some pain just wasn’t worth the pleasure at the end, and she couldn’t finish. “I—”
“Stay,” Trigrian whispered against her ass.
He kissed her lower back and down farther, seeming to pause to weigh her buttocks in his hands. He held them, kneaded them, and started kissing again on either side of her crack.
A gasp tumbled over her lips when he pushed her cheeks apart.
She froze yet again when his lips pressed tentatively against her seam.
“Am I too distracting? I can do other things if you’d like,” he said.
“No.”
Focus. Focus. Maybe distracting Murk from his pain would help.
She peeled her chest off his and leaned up to reach his lips, which he eagerly offered.
The depth of penetration at the angle was shallower, but Murk tried to make up for the change by thrusting upward as much as he could.
With each thrust, his breath caught, and she tried to keep his focus on her lips.
“Faster, if you can, Courtney,” Trigrian said. “I wouldn’t normally encourage a quick fuck, but this may be one of the few instances I’d condone it.”
Faster. She rolled her hips faster, clenching her inner muscles around Murk’s cock as Trigrian pressed at her tighter hole.
“Have you been fucked in the ass?” He increased pressure on the opening, but didn’t breach her.
“God,” she said into Murk’s mouth, and increased her speed yet again. She needed to get off of him before she did something truly brazen. She’d walk into the police station fully debauched and good for nothing.
“Our women aren’t fond of lovemaking like that,” Trigrian said. He put his tongue where his fingers were, and Court bucked.
“Fucker!”
He drew back, but not completely away. His hands were there again, one at her waist, one at her ass. He got her moving and pressed his fingers against the place he’d wetted. “Our women don’t always share well. They usually like one on one, though some will accommodate both their lovers at once. Rarely in the ass, though. They leave that to us. Have you had a cock in your ass? I like it even when Murk is in one of his moods. I get so hard when he’s being rough.”
Her mind flashed to an image of the two together at their peaks, Trigrian restrained in Murk’s arms, and all that hair flowing into each other, strawberry blond and dark auburn.
The show was stunning in her mind.
Trigrian pressed the tip of his finger into her ass, and she screamed out some garbled expletive that was no particular word, but many.
“I want to see Murk mounting you from the rear and fucking you hard. You belong to him. Do you understand that?”
She rode Murk faster, abandoning his lips in favor of the fleshy bend of his shoulder. She sank her teeth into it and tried to stave off the mounting orgasm. She didn’t think she’d be able to come under the circumstances, but now she didn’t think there was a way she couldn’t.
“Would you let me watch?” Trigrian asked. “Would you let me help, or would you send me away?”
“Anything you want.” Her toes curled against Murk’s legs and she clamped her teeth tight as the pressure in her core became too much to bear. She had to let go or the dynamite wouldn’t ignite.
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“I want to share,” Trigrian said.
“Okay.” Her steady voice devolved into a whiny keel as the starburst ignited inside of her and Trigrian’s finger delved deeper into her.
Murk’s nails bit into her skin once more, and this time deeper as his hips thrust from the bed and his torture pulled at his face.
Trigrian wrapped an arm around her waist and held her on, whispering into her ear. “Stay on. Let him fill you. Do this for him.”
She wasn’t sure what she was doing, beyond moaning. Screaming. Yelling out Murk’s name as his cock pulsed inside her and her body shook inside their firm grasps.
When Murk’s fingers loosened on her haunches and the pain on his face melted away, she carefully rolled off him.
She stared at the dark ceiling, languid and sated, and willed her thundering heart to slow.
“God,” she whispered. The word was practically becoming a chant.
Murk rolled against her and nuzzled his lips against her neck. A smile, she thought.
“That hurt you,” she accused.
He nudged her shirt up from her belly and pressed his palm to her flesh. He kissed her shoulder, skimmed his hand up her chest and let it rest on her heart.
Trigrian moved to Murk’s back, and sat facing the door. “The pain doesn’t last beyond the intercourse,” he said. “It’ll hurt less the next time…if there is a next time.”
She didn’t think there’d be a next time.
Murk pulled her back when she tried to sit up.
“You said you’d explain,” she said, nudging his groping hands away. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“Maybe I’ll let Murk explain when the sun is up. He’s better at explaining things.”
“No.” Yet again, she tried to sit up, and this time Murk let her. “Tell me now. Plain language. You can manage plain language. If you can’t, give me the Jekhani words and I’ll get them translated.”
“I…”
Murk thumped his back.
When Trigrian turned and looked down at him, Murk made what seemed to be a Do it gesture.
Trigrian sighed. “Fine. Plain language. I guess I could start by saying mated Jekhans live in groups of three, not two.”
“Three?”
“For practical reasons,” Trigrian said flatly. “You don’t need to like us. Our men are used to that. You just need to be…available.”
“Wait.” Court put up her hands and shook her head. “Back up the fucking bus. What the hell are you talking about?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Trig knew Murk could have explained better. He could have given Courtney all the technical details while making the arrangement sound romantic.
It generally wasn’t. Trig hadn’t been joking about their women.
Murk stared at him through narrowed eyes while twirling a length of Courtney’s curly hair between his fingers.
There was a dare in his gaze.
No, a threat.
Trig sighed and smoothed his hand over his hair. He didn’t do a good job, and he knew it. When Murk was well, he’d make good on his threat. Trig didn’t doubt that.
He swallowed and nuzzled behind Jerry’s ear with his big toe. “As I said, Jekhans mate in trios.”
“Always?”
“Yes. It’s necessary.”
“In what way?”
Gods, if only Murk could speak. “Uh…the hormones aren’t right otherwise.”
“For reproduction?”
“Yes, but not just that. The hormones also drive other body functions.”
“So, where do I fit into this? How does me…being with Murk help him?”
“Your hormones. They…trigger his to balance, and mine for that matter.”
“Which means you’re healthier overall, I’m guessing.”
“See for yourself.” He canted his head toward Murk. “He has The Ague, as do I.”
Or he did rather. He hadn’t felt any signs of it all day.
Murk cupped her chin, brushed his thumb across her lips.
She kissed it and rolled her eyes up to him. “So, you wouldn’t consider this cheating had you not been here?”
“Only if we hadn’t agreed.”
“And you’d agreed?”
He turned back to the door and nodded.
“When did you agree? You haven’t known me long.”
And that was the rub. There was no way to answer without revealing just how desperate they were. He didn’t know the words to tell her without offending her. Murk wouldn’t want Trig to offend her.
For that matter, Trig didn’t want to offend her. He needed her, and could admit he wanted her, too, even if he wasn’t altogether sure he trusted her. At any moment, she could reach her limit and decide they needed to go. Never before had he been subject to the whims of a woman, but he knew he didn’t care for the predicament.
Her body? Yes. He liked that a great deal. But the rest…he didn’t know.
“What time do you need to be at work?” He hoped she didn’t notice he hadn’t answered the question, but given her obvious intelligence, he didn’t see how she couldn’t have.
She didn’t respond, but doing so might have been difficult at the moment given she had Murk’s mouth over hers.
That’s certainly a good way to make her forget.
“Oh-eight hundred,” she said breathily when Murk pulled back.
He flicked at one of her one of her nipples, and she grabbed his wrist, giggling.
“They’re not toys. There are actually nerves in there.”
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Trig said. “You’re a…novelty for him.” For both of them. Trig might have been doing the same thing if he’d been in Murk’s place, and had one mind to crawl up to the other side of her and attack the other one. Take it into his mouth and…
He let out a breath and adjusted his cock in his snug pants. Gods. That evil part of him that had been hoping Murk couldn’t finish so that he could do the job now taunted him. What would being inside her feel like? Releasing his seed into a warm, accommodating cunt instead of into a hand, mouth, or the rare ass when Murk allowed Trig there?
Jerry jumped up on the bed, sniffed Murk, and settled into the thin sliver of space beside him. His thumping tail thrashed in Murk’s face as the dog watched Trig.
“Down, Jerry,” Courtney said. “You’ve got all day to wallow unauthorized on my bed.”
Jerry made a little woofing sound and jumped down. From the rug, he still watched Trig.
Trig looked away. The damned dog made him uncomfortable. He looked like he knew too much for a pet.
Trig cleared his throat. “Have you…had him long?”
“Jerry?” Courtney shifted beside Murk so she lay on her side with her legs twined with his.
Murk’s expression was one of pure contentment. His eyes were closed. His smile was broad. He nuzzled his chin atop her head and held her close.
Trig was happy for him. Really, he was. His was a heavy sort of happiness, though, and Trig didn’t know what that meant. Emotions weren’t usually so complicated for him.
“He’s four now,” she said. “I’ve had him since he was about a year old. Before that, he was…my brother’s.”
“Your brother gave him up?”
“No. My brother died.”
“Oh,” Trig said. He sat up straighter, not knowing what to do or what to say.
Oh didn’t seem like enough. Nothing would be enough. He knew that all too well. He was fairly certain he had no family left of his own. If his sisters were alive, finding them might be impossible. Even if they’d survived the initial conflicts between Jekhans and the Terran mercenaries, they might have since died from other things, like The Ague or any number of other ailments they could no longer access treatments for.
Murk would have known what to say that was better than “Oh,” but Murk had no voice. Trig had to be his voice sometimes, and the best Trig could come up with was “I’m sorry.” So, he sai
d that.
She shrugged and smiled, but the grin was half-hearted. Maybe she was used to smiling through pain. Trig had fallen out of the habit.
“He’d been sick since childhood,” she said. “Still, he wanted to be independent as much as he could. Jerry was one component of his care plan. That meatball was his therapy dog. Jerry kept him company and alerted the neighbors when things were wrong.”
“Do you…miss him? Is that okay to ask?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
It was Trig’s turn to shrug. Jekhan men weren’t accustomed to discussing their heartache with their women. They’d always kept their pain to themselves, and that was expected. He didn’t know what the customs on Earth were.
“I miss Michael terribly every day,” she said, “usually when I’m waiting on coffee to brew because that’s when he used to call me. I don’t know if the ache will ever go away.”
It won’t. Trig’s heart ached every time he thought about one of his sisters—how sweet they were. How they kept him company in the fields. They’d study. He’d plant.
“I hate to say it,” she said softly after a minute of silence. “He was my favorite out of all my brothers. He was always smiling, in spite of everything. Even when he was in pain. He was protective, too. At least, the best he could be. He didn’t like me going out with people he didn’t know, but I always told him that was the McGarry paranoia talking and that he should try logic for a change. He hated that.” She laughed, and it was a genuine laugh. Perhaps a bit tearful, but there was some joy in the sound.
Reflexively, he stroked her wrist, and when she didn’t pull away, he wrapped his fingers around it. Touching her was nice—a balm for his tense body and frazzled nerves, made stronger each moment she didn’t withdraw.
“Why would your family be paranoid?” he asked.
“Oh, pick a reason,” she said. “Where I come from, my family’s name is a curse word.”
“What happened?”
“I…” She seemed to burrow even more against Murk, hiding her face beneath her wild hair, and against his chest. “The story is complicated. I’ll tell you some day when my brain isn’t mush. I don’t know if I’d make a whole lot of sense right now.”
Trig turned to the window and guessed the hour based on the intensity of the sun through the curtains. Probably a bit past six. She’d need to get up soon if she could somehow manage to free herself from Murk’s grip. Trig had seen for himself on numerous occasions how Murk could convince people to do things contrary to their very natures—to what they were supposed to be doing. People wanted to do things for him. They didn’t want to tell him no, and Trig had to be counted amongst that group.