by Kit Tunstall
Were they deliberately deceiving the public about the true nature of vampires? Had she spent six years of her life perpetuating a lie? Or were Armand and Foster the frauds, presenting the faces they wanted her to see, to lull her into a state of trust? It stood to reason they received more nourishment if she more actively participated in their sexual activities. Was it all an elaborate setup to make her tastier and more fulfilling?
She jumped when Foster pressed his thumbs into the sole of her foot, concentrating on a sensitive spot. Her thoughts had so engrossed her she had nearly forgotten he was holding her feet.
He wore a serious expression when he met her gaze. “I will never hurt you, Shaun. I don’t know your thoughts, but I can sense your fear and confusion.” He squeezed her foot gently. “Causing you pain is the last thing I ever want to do.”
His words worked magic, easing the tension in her muscles so effectively she half-thought he had thralled her. Shaun’s head dropped back against the cushion, and she closed her eyes as Foster massaged first one foot, and then the other, with slow, deliberate strokes meant to relax her.
They were also turning her on. Shaun’s eyes popped open at the realization, and as if her awareness guided him, his hands slid up her leg until he cupped her pussy, rubbing her through the slick material of the jogging pants. A gasp escaped her when he pushed against her clit, once again using his special abilities to find it unerringly through the barriers of her clothing.
“I only want to give you pleasure, chérie.” It was as if no time had passed at all from his last statement. The sincerity in his voice resonated through her, and she found her doubts fading. Shaun didn’t resist when Foster’s hand slipped inside her waistband to lower her pants. She lifted her bottom to assist with the removal of the garment, along with her panties. Eyes slitted with pleasure, she watched Foster as he shifted positions, propping one of her legs over the back of the couch, so he could crouch between her thighs. His nostrils flared when he breathed in the scent of her, inches from her pussy.
Shaun gasped when his fingers entered her opening, slick from her own juices and the remnants of Armand’s satisfaction. He seemed unbothered by the mixture, plunging a second finger deep inside her, as his head moved upward to take possession of her mouth in a hungry kiss.
Foster’s tongue probed her lips, slipping gently between, to explore her mouth. His tongue collided with hers, shyly engaging in a dueling match, before she pinned it between her teeth with gentle pressure. His coaxing attitude was a marked contrast to Armand’s lovemaking style, and she was relieved, knowing she wouldn’t confuse them in the shadows of her mind.
He withdrew his mouth, keeping his fingers buried inside her pussy, but not moving them. “Chérie, you taste like cinnamon. It’s peculiar, because I’m certain you haven’t had any since you came to stay with us, but each time I kiss you, that’s the taste I take away.”
She frowned, equally puzzled. “I don’t even like cinnamon.”
A chuckle made his chest tremble, brushing against her nipples for just a second. “The mystery deepens.” His voice lowered an octave, and his light tone roughened. “I suspect it’s a mental association. Cinnamon is sweet and spicy at the same time, with a hint of a bite. Just like you, Shaun. You can be sweeter than honey, but there is always a tangy hint of spice just beneath the surface.”
His compliment both confused and delighted her. It also astounded her to know he could project the taste of cinnamon onto her just from his mental abilities and subconscious impressions of her. Without a suitably bizarre compliment to give in return, she said, “You taste like bacon. Probably because you ate mine.”
Foster’s eyes gleamed, and he laughed again, once more brushing his furry chest against her rigid nipples. If the sweatshirt hadn’t covered them, he couldn’t have failed to notice how erect they were. “You gave it up freely, chérie.”
“Did I?” The husky note in her voice bared more of her soul than she wished, making it clear she was asking about much more than the breakfast. “How much was my own free will?”
“Everything after the bath. You know that,” he chided, his eyes reflecting disappointment. “We have manipulated you slightly, but you are here with us because you want to be.”
Shaun shook her head, her gaze moving to the door. “What if I asked to leave right now?”
His face contorted, and he took a deep breath, seemingly for courage. “Then you may leave. We want you to want to be with us, not to be here because you’ve been forced into it.” His eyes bored into hers, and he spoke quietly. “You are released from the thrall Armand imposed to keep you on the grounds. You may go where you wish.”
A tense silence filled the room as Shaun glanced at the door before turning back to Foster. “I’m right where I want to be.” His sigh of relief was audible, although his expression reflected confidence. With a grin, she shifted her hips. “Although, you’re not where I want you to be.”
He wiggled his fingers inside her pussy, sending shockwaves radiating throughout her lower body. “No?”
She shook her head. “Your cock should be higher ... right about where your fingers are.” To emphasize her point, Shaun clenched her muscles, trying to expel his fingers.
Foster waggled his eyebrows at her as he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his nose to take in her scent before sitting upright. His teasing fingers trailing over her calves had her squirming with impatience.
“Please, Foster.”
“How can I refuse a beautiful woman?”
Still, he made no move to kneel between her spread legs. His fingers went to the hem of her sweatshirt, inching it up over her breasts. With a growl of impatience, she lunged into an awkward seated position, lifting her arms into the air so he could remove the garment. As soon as he tossed it over his shoulder, she sank against the couch again, propping her head on the arm.
Her body tingled with anticipation, and Shaun held her breath. His head lowered to her breasts, rolling a ripe nipple between his lips. Foster teased the sensitive peak for several seconds before he sucked it deeper into his mouth, grazing with his teeth. She curled her hands into fists, tossing her hips, seeking relief.
Foster moved his mouth to her other breast, prolonging the torture, but in a pleasant way. Shaun regretted having urged him to remove his fingers from her pussy. They were not equal to his cock, but they would have satisfied at least a portion of the aching void in her folds. He bit her nipple forcefully, and she yelped, finding all sensation centered in the bud. It was exquisite to have his mouth drawing on her peak, alternately sucking and releasing, flicking and nibbling. Never before had she experienced such sensations from just her breasts. Her stomach quivered, and her womb tightened as an orgasm built.
Reflexively, she loosened her hands from fists and grasped his back as he shifted to remove his briefs before finally settling between her parted thighs. During the seconds he raised his mouth from her nipple, she still felt him suckling her and marveled at his abilities.
The moment Foster returned to her breast, the lightest touch triggered an orgasm. Convulsions swept through her pussy, along with a flood of arousal, and she arched her hips and back simultaneously, seeking more. He sheathed his cock inside her as the climax rocked her, making her muscles spasm around him as a gasp escaped her.
He began thrusting inside her, and the pleasure increased, feeding the orgasm, prolonging it. A light nibble on her breast renewed the sensitivity of the area, and his fingers probed her anus, stroking lightly over the puckered bud. Her eyes widened at the sensation, because his hands were braced on the couch arm on either side of her head. How could he be ... “Ah, that’s amazing.” The questions flew out of her mind when he penetrated her anus with his thumb, finding the channel slick and waiting, although he hadn’t used lube. It must be some mind trick he used in conjunction with his phantom hands.
All the while, the orgasm built in intensity, spiraling through her until she was lost in the maelstrom. Fos
ter continued pumping into her, his cock stretching her pussy to its limit. His finger in her anus and mouth at her breast were all blending into one all-body sensation. Try as she did to focus and separate each action, Shaun found it impossible.
With a grunt, Foster spasmed inside her, releasing waves of hot fluid. As he peaked, a new level of release swept over her, making it seem as though every molecule in her body separated. Sobs escaped her mouth, and she held tight to Foster, digging her nails into his back in an effort to keep from being lost.
Gray tinged the edges of her vision as her body shook with the force of coming. Her eyes locked with Foster’s, his gaze sucking her into a black vortex. As she went, Shaun’s last thought was she wouldn’t survive the experience, but couldn’t care less. What an amazing way to go.
Chapter Seven
Shaun awoke to the enticing aroma of mulberry. She opened bleary eyes to take stock of her surroundings. It was a surprise to find herself still lying on the sofa. After the amazing orgasm with Foster, she half-expected to be floating somewhere in the stratosphere. Instead, she was wrapped in silk, with her head supported by a soft feather pillow.
The lilac robe covering her smelled of mulberry -- no, she did, she realized, her nose twitching as she inhaled. She touched her hair, finding it slightly damp and drawn into a loose knot atop her head. Her skin was silky-smooth, and she smelled like her favorite fragrance. Someone had bathed her during her stint of unconsciousness.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Armand’s lips brushed against her cheek as he whispered the words.
She reached up to touch his cheek, reassuring herself he was real. The moment had a dreamlike quality. How had she managed to stay asleep through a bath?
“Did you enjoy your experience?” Foster asked with a knowing glint as he entered the living room, bearing a silver tray he placed on the floor near the fireplace. Following his movements, Shaun saw several candles arranged along the mantel and coffee table, filling the room with soft illumination and the hint of cinnamon, a choice she suspected was deliberate.
An inviting black throw made from what appeared to be genuine fur was spread before the lit fire, contrasting elegantly with the burgundy carpet. The circular rug was definitely large enough for three, and she guessed their intentions. Foster settled cross-legged on the rug, naked, beckoning to her with his fingers. She didn’t resist Armand taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. When she looked downward, she discovered he was also undressed.
Why had whoever bathed her bothered placing her in the robe? She walked with him to the fur throw, thinking it would have been much more expedient to leave her nude. Apparently, Armand reached the same conclusion, because he stripped the robe from her body. Once free of the garment, she stepped onto the sensuously soft rug, her toes curling into it of their own volition.
Foster extended a hand from his seated position, assisting her to the floor. Shaun grinned at the gallantry of the gesture, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter as he pressed kisses across the back of her hand, over her wrist, and to her elbow.
Armand knelt behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders to massage her neck. A sigh of contentment passed her lips as his fingers worked their magic, kneading deeply into muscles she hadn’t realized were tense until he started. Her head fell backward to rest against his arm, impeding his strokes. Seeing Foster watching, his eyes gleaming with an emotion she tentatively identified as hesitation, she gripped his hand to tug him forward.
Paralysis broken, he moved onto his knees as he shifted closer, bringing his hands to her breasts. She moaned when his thumbs worked lightly over her swollen nipples. They retained their earlier sensitivity, and the lightest flick across her buds moistened her pussy.
Armand moved his hands lower, gently moving her head. She stiffened her neck as his fingers traced her spine, pressing lightly at different intervals, somehow always finding a spot to make her squirm with pleasure.
Foster lowered his head, and she raised hers to meet him, opening her mouth to his questing tongue. He tasted like pears, and her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since early afternoon. In an imitation of feline grace, she licked his tongue and inside of his cheeks, enjoying the sweet-tart taste almost as much as the tremors racking his body at her light caresses.
Armand feathered his lips over her shoulder, catching her by surprise. He flicked his tongue in teasing strokes across her skin, alternating with the light kisses. It took her a moment to realize he was mimicking the rhythm she had established with her tongue in Foster’s mouth. It was her first experience sharing the movements of her lover so synchronously, and she wondered if Foster felt the same sense of completeness when he and Armand shared each other’s thoughts and motions. How close was their relationship? Did they share everything? If they did, where did that leave her? The thought was so disconcerting she drew away from Foster, compelled to know the answer.
“Are you lovers?”
Foster and Armand froze, and she could feel Armand staring at her as intently as Foster was when she met his gaze.
“Would that bother you, chérie?” Foster asked.
Shaun hesitated, not certain how to answer. A dark emotion assailed her. It wasn’t repulsion at the thought of them making love. On a purely physical level, she found the idea more exciting than she would have expected, picturing the two of them touching each other intimately. But it troubled her emotionally. Was she jealous?
Squirming at the idea, she shrugged, bothered by the concept. Already, Foster and Armand were closer on many levels than she had ever been to a man she was involved with. If they met each other’s needs -- all their needs -- why would they want her as more than a temporary distraction? “No,” she finally whispered, finding the word difficult to say.
“It’s okay, ma belle. Many are uncomfortable with two men loving each other.”
“It’s not that, Armand ...” She trailed off, unable to express her deepest reservations, still fearing their rejection.
Silence fell between them, with Foster staring over her shoulder, no doubt trading a look with Armand. Finally, he said, “We love each other, but it is complicated. We are not lovers, chérie.”
Instead of the relief she expected, her chest constricted at his admission of love for Armand. It seemed impossible they could ever want her for more than pleasure and blood if they had such a strong bond already forged. A third person would surely detract from what they shared.
“I dreamed of Foster for years before we met.” Armand’s hands moved to her shoulders, easing her onto her back with gentle guidance. He looked down at her, his eyes shining with wonder. “Just as we dreamed of you.”
Shaun shook her head. “What?” A squeal escaped her before she could expand her question in reaction to something cool touching her breast. Lifting her head, she saw Foster rubbing a ripe strawberry across her nipple. He had shifted to lie on his side beside her.
“I dreamed of this moment many times,” he said, resting his head on her chest while continuing to stroke the fruit across her nipple.
“I don’t understand.” It was so difficult to focus on the conversation with him caressing her breast as his breath fanned over her skin.
“They’re your favorite,” Armand said, brushing a plump strawberry against her kiss-softened lips. “We know from the dreams we’ve had. When I dreamed of Foster, it was vague, with little more than his face appearing, along with a sense of completion I hadn’t experienced before. But after he turned, we began having the same dreams, intensified. They were how we knew to find you, how we knew your taste in clothes, and your favorite foods.”
Shaun parted her lips to taste the fruit, giving into her hunger. The firm berry yielded reluctantly to her teeth. Juice dribbled down her chin as she chewed. “You dreamed of me?” she asked after swallowing, unable to filter the skepticism from her tone.
Armand licked away the sweet juice from her chin with slow strokes of his tongue before answering. “Not im
mediately, of course. You weren’t born yet.”
“Our first clear vision of you was eleven years ago. We saw you in a pink formal, standing with a gangly young man. His hair was carrot-orange and stood up in a most amusing manner,” Foster interjected before dipping his head to lick her nipple around the fruit.
“Perry.” Shaun uttered his name with confusion. “My prom date ... but how could you know?”
“It is fate, ma belle.” Armand stole a kiss, tracing her lips with his tongue, removing the sticky strawberry residue. “We are meant for each other.”
“All three of us.” Foster squeezed it ruthlessly, mangling the fruit to send rivulets of juice across her breast.
He and Armand began licking the juicy trails from her breasts, their tongues laving her nipples in concert. The sensation made Shaun groan and arch her hips. It was almost impossible to continue speaking under the passionate onslaught, but her mind whirled with questions. “How can that be? What do you want from me?”
“To be with us,” Armand said, tickling her stomach with his lips as he followed a rivulet of juice from her breast.
“Complete us.” Foster said before returning his attention to her nipple, flicking the peak.
What did they want from her? The idea of them dreaming of her was fantastical, but what if it were true? Where would she fit in with the relationship? If they shared a deep emotional connection, all they needed from her was her body. “This is crazy. You want me just for sex, for blood? You can’t possibly need me.” Spurned by her anger, Shaun pushed them away, chest heaving with the struggle to suppress the tears burning the backs of her eyes. Their spiel was worse than their plain-stated intentions yesterday to use her for sustenance. Why did they have to lie to her? It had to be a lie, just a fantasy they were spinning, for some reason known only to them -- amusement, perhaps? Hadn’t the NCA taught their agents the necros would drain every ounce from their victims? Apparently, it wasn’t just blood, or even sex they took, but also emotions.