Spirits Shared

by Jory Strong

  Tight nipples stabbed his palms, and pleasure plunged down his arms and torso and into his cock. Crowding closer, he pressed his shaft to her buttocks and silently acknowledged her earlier point. How was this fair?

  Her shivers of need and Clay's proximity had his cock claiming to have a hair-trigger, telling him that they needed to take this to the bed or to the rug in front of the fireplace.

  She'd be so wet. So responsive. She'd welcome both of their touches, both of their cocks. And they'd leave her languid and satisfied before turning their attention on each other and becoming lovers.

  He sucked where her shoulder met her neck. Slid a hand over her stomach and between her thighs.

  Her clit throbbed against his palm. Her channel clamped down on his fingers and she gave her whimpers to Clay.

  Tekoa was drowning in heat. With each thrust of his fingers into her arousal-soaked opening, his palm slid over her swollen clit at the same time the back of his hand glided over Clay's erection and Clay's hips jerked.

  Clay kept kissing Jessica even as his hands moved from her sides to Tekoa's.

  And Tekoa said, "Free his cock, Jess. Take it in your hand."

  She trembled harder but pushed Clay's sweats down then wrapped a hand around his shaft while the other cupped and stroked his balls.

  "That's right. Let him know how happy we are that he's home."

  She stroked Clay's cock and Clay's eyes closed. His head went back on a moan and Tekoa nearly mimicked him. He'd been right, they were going to kill him with pleasure.

  He brushed a kiss over Jessica's ear, rubbed his palm against her clit in slow, hard circles. "Please," she whispered, abandoning Clay's cock to cover Tekoa's hand and hold it more tightly against her in an effort to gain release.

  Clay groaned and Tekoa laughed. "That's pretty merciless, Jess, leaving him to suffer while you do something you know is going to get you in trouble."

  It nearly killed him but Tekoa forced his hand away from her pussy.

  Her fingers went to her clit. Fire streaked through him and an answering shudder went through Clay.

  "Okay, we can play it that way," Tekoa said in the same tone he'd use on a hardened criminal. "You can make yourself come, but you'll do it while you're sucking Clay's cock. Get on your knees."

  Clay's eyes opened, hot and hard with want. "Do it, babe. I don't think Tekoa is a man who'll ask twice."

  "I'm not. I told her I wouldn't punish her today, but I'm sure you'd be happy to administer some discipline."

  "Always." He gave Jess a long, thorough kiss then pulled away and said, "Time to obey."

  She slowly sank to her knees. The hand that had been cupping Clay's balls moved to curl around his thigh while the other remained between her legs.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 7

  Tekoa wrapped his hand around Clay's shaft and it spasmed against his palm, creating an answering burst of pleasure in his own cock.

  "Fuck," Clay panted, thrusting. "Fuck."

  I'm with you there. It'd been so long, too long, but worth the wait. "Suck him, Jess."

  Her tongue darted out in a quick lick and Tekoa's cock spasmed, leaking and licking across his abs and sweats. He might just die where he stood.

  "Jess," Clay growled and she pressed her sealed lips to the tip of his cock and slowly, slowly went down on him.

  Clay's shaft disappeared an inch at a time and Tekoa was mesmerized. Her lips reached his hand, Clay's cock throbbing against it, then her mouth retreated to the tip of Clay's dick, leaving the shaft glistening.

  It was the most erotic thing Tekoa had ever witnessed.

  Clay thrust through Tekoa's fisted hand in an effort to forge back into Jessica's mouth. Her fingers played in the wet, slick place between her thighs and Tekoa promised himself that sometime soon he'd put Jessica on the bed or the rug in front of the fireplace and order her to make herself come.

  "Suck me," Clay panted. "Or you're going to get a spanking next instead of a good fucking."

  Tekoa shuddered and slid the hand not wrapped around Clay's cock into his sweats. This was beyond anything he'd expected when it came to mates.

  He gripped his shaft, growled, "Do it, Jess."

  Clay pushed Tekoa's sweats down and the muscles in his thighs bunched. He burned where Clay's eyes touched him.

  Jessica softened in complete surrender. She took Clay all the way into her mouth, her lips touched to Tekoa's hand as she sucked Clay's cock.

  Tekoa groaned when Clay cupped his balls. He leaned forward and Clay met him above Jessica.

  He had the brief image of rams lowering their horns, running forward, crashing into each other. And then there was only pleasure. Incredible pleasure.

  Their lips met. Parted and their tongues collided. The pleasure intensified by Jess's mouth against his hand as she sucked Clay's cock, by Clay's hard, callused hand after Tekoa freed his own cock for Clay to grasp.

  Clay's touch was nothing like Jess's. The thrust of Clay's tongue and hard press of his lips was nothing like Jess's. But he needed both to survive.

  A moan tore from Tekoa's throat. At the edge of his consciousness, a drum beat the way it had with Jess.

  When he came inside Clay—and he would fill Clay's ass with his cock—Clay would be bound to him the same way Jess was, mated in the eyes of The People, their spirits married.

  His heart swelled with longing. But as desperate as he was for that joining, he didn't dare open himself fully to the Thunderbird's spirit.

  Not with Jess present. He'd taken her on her hands and knees so she wouldn't see translucent spirit wings outstretched, wouldn't know all that he was as he thrust in and out of her tight, heated channel.

  The drumming grew louder, ancient voices joined in song. Desire became fiery talons and it was impossible to care about not rushing things.

  "Make him come," Tekoa ordered. It was the only thing that would halt the song.

  She urged his hand away from Clay's cock. Took Clay deeper into her mouth.

  Ecstasy swept into Tekoa. It originated in Clay and was amplified with each stroke of Clay's hand on his shaft as Jessica worked Clay, already an expert where he was concerned.

  Clay moaned. Panted. Came.

  And Tekoa's cock jerked and spasmed against Clay's fingers, control deserting him so hot splashes of semen struck his abdomen and chest.

  Somehow he remained standing.

  Slowly the white-hot haze dissipated and he opened his eyes to meet blue eyes full of sensual heat and satisfaction.

  Clay's gaze dropped to Jess. His hand grasped her hair. "Now you, babe."

  The command itself was nearly enough to push Jess over. Pleasure shivered through her, she stroked her clit, reveled in the heat that blazed in Clay's eyes, the love and approval, the never-ending desire.

  She'd had the wild, panicked thought that one day he might decide he was mostly gay instead of bi.

  Never.

  She found the right rhythm, trembled as the pleasure between her legs built and built, finally exploding in a hot wave of bliss.

  They drew her upward and she closed her eyes, absorbed the warmth of their skin.

  It'd turned her on to see Tekoa's hand on Clay's cock. It'd turned her on when they kissed.

  She felt like cuddling on the bed or in front of the fireplace. She wanted to spend time luxuriating in the memories of what had already happened before moving on to create new memories.

  That's what she wanted. But their cocks were hardening with the possibility of sex with each other and all it took was the feel of their erections to tempt her imagination into picturing them together. She could play the voyeur. She'd like to play the voyeur. Or she could participate. They'd include her, or pleasure her until she passed out, if she was willing.

  All of it appealed it her. But…

  Her gaze was drawn to the Thunderbird carved into the fireplace mantel.

  She remembered the intensity of those moments when Tekoa had taken her on her hands
and knees, when he'd filled her so deeply and so fully that it'd transcended the physical. She wanted the same for Clay though…

  He was a guy and one who would probably call rough, rowdy sex with Tekoa good enough. She smiled against Clay's neck, could practically hear him laughing and saying, Love your imagination, babe.

  She pressed a kiss to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. "I think we should go back to my original suggestion, the one where I get dressed and go to the grocery store. I'd like to celebrate tonight with a special dinner."

  Tilting her head back, her eyes met his and she willed him to read her complete acceptance and her desire to give him some time alone with Tekoa. "Fair's fair."

  Tekoa's cheek rubbed against her hair. He hugged her more tightly. Surprised her by saying, "I like the idea of us celebrating this day with a special meal."

  "Guess I've been outvoted," Clay said, eyes probing hers, asking if she was sure.

  "I'm not leaving this cabin naked or just wearing Tekoa's shirt."

  Clay grinned, gave her a hard kiss. "I'll grab our stuff. The only one who gets to see you naked is us."

  He pulled his sweatpants up and left. Tekoa nuzzled her neck, cupped her breasts.

  Heat flared in her stomach and slid downward into her pussy. She moaned and arched her back.

  He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. "When you get home I'm going to give these the attention they deserve. I'm going to latch on and suck until you come for me."

  She reached behind her and grasped his hair. Clay entered with their things, his gaze going to Tekoa's hands on her breasts and his eyes heating. "Change of plans?"

  Tekoa kissed her neck and released her. "Just telling Jess what was going to happen when she got home."

  Home.

  She wasn't ready to address that issue.

  Clay dropped his backpack and her purse next to the door then carried her small suitcase to the bed. She followed, grabbed jeans and a blue-and-white oxford shirt along with matching light blue panties and bra.

  He stopped her with a laugh and a hand around her wrist. "No panties. No bra. We in agreement, Tekoa?"

  Tekoa was crouched in front of the fireplace, feeding in more wood. "We are definitely in agreement."

  She dropped the panties and bra back into the suitcase. Clay tugged her to him, gave her a quick hard kiss then let her escape to the bathroom to clean up and dress.

  When she left the bathroom, Tekoa was leaning against the couch back and Clay was fishing through his backpack near the front door.

  Tekoa pushed away from the couch, intercepted her on the path to Clay. He kissed her, said, "Don't stay gone for long," then relinquished her to Clay.

  Clay's hug was hard and possessive, his kiss thorough and breath-taking. And his gaze, when his lips left hers, probed and asked, Are you sure?

  "I'll be back in a little while."

  He kissed her again, released her. "No speeding. Might be kind of embarrassing to get pulled over for breaking the law in the sheriff's truck."

  She laughed and left. Climbed into a truck that smelled like cedar, not the chemical scent of an air fresher dangling from the rearview mirror but the natural odor of the trees on either side of the cabin.

  It wasn't raining, but dark clouds promised the pause was temporary. She followed the dirt road, parked and got out at the totem poles.

  Like the first time she'd seen them, the mist gave the totem poles an almost eerie, from-the-past presence. And like before, she could hear ancient drums beating. She could feel the spirit and promise of the Thunderbirds perched on top of the poles, their wings outstretched as they claimed everything they could see.

  Wispy tendrils of gray rolled across Tekoa's road and it was easy to believe the poles stood guard, like sentries placed on either side of a gateway leading to a mystical place. A healer. Lover. Warrior.

  Tekoa's imagined voice rose and fell as it had during the sing for Clay. The words had been foreign and unrecognizable but they'd resonated like a chord that linked her soul to the past and to the power that was earth and wind and water and fire.

  She'd experienced something equally primal when Tekoa had positioned her in front of the fireplace and mounted her. The sounds she'd heard with her ears had been ones of passion instead of healing but she would have sworn there'd been a deeper song, an ancient voice accompanied by a drum. And ecstasy shimmering through her, the Thunderbird carved into the mantel had seemed so real that she would have sworn lightning flashed in its dark eyes as it filled the room with unknowable power.

  Goose bumps rose on her arms. Was it just a flight of fantasy?

  Clay's injuries had been real. So much had happened, her focus had been on The Revelation, the attraction to Tekoa, and just how far she could go, that she hadn't dwelled on the healing, on the impossibility—

  But it wasn't impossible. It'd happened.

  She moved closer to the totem poles. They were beautiful awe-inspiring works of art. Ukiah's work? That's where she'd put her money.

  Reverently she traced the figure of a badger carved at shoulder height. Next to it was an eagle, below it, a fox and above a bear.

  Her eyes lifted to the Thunderbird. Its lower body blended into the wood while its wings stretched wide.

  She'd illustrated a children's book once about Thunderbirds. They were found in the traditions and beliefs of many Native American cultures.

  For some they were deities. For others they were supernatural beings.

  In some traditions they were the Creator's messengers. In others they were protectors. In a few cases they lived as men but took the form of a Thunderbird when necessary. In almost all belief systems the beat of their massive wings created thunder and lightning shot from their eyes.

  Her earlier impression of the poles standing as sentinels returned. She remembered the lines on the map, the red marking Tekoa's official territory as sheriff while the blue designated the wider area he felt compelled to protect.

  Tekoa had said his people were the People of the Thunderbird. She had nothing to base her assumption on but she felt sure that they viewed themselves as guardians of this land.

  He wouldn't want to leave and not only because he was Sheriff. He'd want them to make it their home.

  It'd been there in his voice and she'd shied away from thinking about it. She could write and illustrate here. Clay could run his business from here, but there'd be no hiding their relationship.

  Her heart rabbited into her throat, making it impossible to breathe. She rubbed her upper arms and tried to imagine telling their close friends that it was now her, Clay and Tekoa.

  The alternative was to live a lie.

  Her stomach tightened with thoughts of walking into the diner or the general store in Hohoq and having everyone know she slept with two men. She wasn't as painfully introverted as she'd been as a kid, when the beauty pageants that were her mother's obsession were a living hell, but she remained a private person. She'd intended to go to Hohoq, have lunch at the diner and pass some time there before finding a grocery store, but now… No.

  She got into the truck, fired the ignition. The radio came on. Another convict had been captured. That left one on the loose, a man convicted of assault, rape and murder.

  * * * * *

  Clay rolled his shoulders in an effort to get the tension out of them. He felt Jess's absence in a way that made him want to tell Tekoa to get on the radio and have her turn around. Of course, that was assuming the telephone calls would ever stop. It seemed like there'd been one after another since Jess drove away.

  He sighed, a long exhale into a grimace. He should do them both a favor by disappearing into the bathroom and jerking off in the shower.

  Nah. The last couple of hours had been torture. He'd suffered alone while Tekoa was with Jess.

  And yeah, the argument could be made that last night Tekoa had been the one to suffer…

  Clay sprawled across the sofa, closed his eyes and gripped his erection through the b
orrowed sweats. How twisted was that? He had his own clothes but was still in Tekoa's because having his dick rubbing against material that'd been next to Tekoa's dick apparently flipped some seriously kinky switches.

  He grinned. So be it.

  The phone dropped back into its cradle, and though he didn't hear footsteps, he knew the moment Tekoa was standing over him. Probably the testosterone in the air, or maybe it was feeling like the hand on his dick was in the crosshairs of a sniper's scope.

  The grin widened. He opened his eyes but didn't sit or take his hand off his cock. "You need to leave?"

  "Not yet. There are others monitoring the situation."

  A sudden pressure in his chest had him easing the grip on his cock. "The situation with the convicts?"

  "Convict. All but one has been recaptured. Some of my relatives are afraid he may be on our lands."

  Clay sat up. "Close to here?"

  Tekoa shook his head. "Unlikely." He sat on the couch edge, his hip close to Clay's. "Jessica shouldn't be in any danger."

  "Good."

  Their mouths slammed into each other. A crash of heat and want.

  Fuck, he needed this. Where Jessica liked to stroke and tease, Tekoa's hands were a rough, bold sweep. He didn't linger to explore but went straight to the waistband of the sweats.

  His hand plowed underneath the material and captured Clay's engorged penis, its tip already flushed and wet.

  Clay's hips bucked and his hand mimicked Tekoa's. Locked around a shaft as hard and hot as his own and Jesus, it felt good. Like his arm was a conduit for white-hot ecstasy to streak from Tekoa's dick to his own.

  He thrust against Tekoa's tongue, stroked Tekoa's dick in the same rhythm as his was being stroked, the foreskin sliding over his engorged shaft.

  Oh Jesus, he wasn't going to last.

  He ass clamped. His hips bucked.

  He allowed himself to be pushed backward so he was sprawled on the couch. Didn't care that he was being positioned like a bottom when in the fantasies—the ones that didn't involve Jess—that had been raging since he emerged from the concussion and saw Tekoa in that loin cloth, it'd been his body covering Tekoa's. It'd been his cock finding the tight, dark hole and pressing inside. It'd been his hips pistoning, bringing them both to the point where they came.