Sorcerous Flame (Harem of Sorcery Book 2)

by Lana Ames

  “Wow,” Jorge said, after a long moment. “That’s…kind of unreal.”

  “Do you believe her?” Mahlen asked, carefully.

  I shook my head. “I don’t…well, I didn’t, and I don’t think I still do, but then…well, everything has been weird and different since then. I’ve changed, hugely; I went from not even being able to tell you I had a crush on you, to, to…” I waved my arms around, gesturing helplessly, my face beginning to flush.

  “To sleeping with two guys at once while a third guy sketches the whole thing?” Javier put in, gently.

  “Exactly! And even thinking about sleeping with that third guy!” I snorted. “This is not me, I’m not sure if I can put that strongly enough. This is just so completely not me, that I almost have to think that…well, that something outside of me has taken control. That everything I’m doing, it hasn’t been my decision.”

  Mahlen looked a little sad. “Well, I kind of had a crush on you for a year too…I just wasn’t ever sure you wanted to…”

  I turned to him, my face falling in dismay. “Oh, no! That’s not what I meant. I want you, I want you so badly—this feels real, what we have.” Then I turned to Javier and reached for his hand. “But I want you too, and it also feels real. That’s the weird part. I don’t feel like some crazy magical spell has made me want you guys. I feel like, if anything, it’s taken away the part of me that…wouldn’t consider having more than one boyfriend at a time, and let what I really feel come out into the open. Like, my mind still holds onto the old notions, but my heart and my body and all the rest of me—like that old stuff just fell away, and I don’t know where it is any more.” I looked over at Jorge with a tremulous smile. “Because yeah, even through all this, I’m feeling sad that I was so sleepy last night, at the end of it all. You know?”

  He beamed back at me across the table. “I…am happy to hear that.”

  “So.” I shrugged. “That’s the deal. And I’m not really sure what to do with it all, now.”

  Mahlen frowned, thinking. “That’s intense. So are we, supposedly, all connected magically or something now?”

  “Well, I’m not,” Jorge said.

  Not yet, I thought.

  “But maybe you, me, and Javier are?” Mahlen persisted. “And if so, what does that mean, exactly? What are we supposed to do about it?”

  “I don’t know! None of this makes any sense.” I pushed my empty plate around and fidgeted with my napkin. “Emma said that we need to protect…everyone. That I would understand my magic, like she had come to understand hers. But I don’t! I don’t know anything.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her again, now that you’ve…had some experience of what she was talking about,” Mahlen suggested.

  “Yeah. That’s actually a good idea.” I went to pat my pockets for my cell phone, but of course I was wearing a form-fitting tunic dress with no pockets, and I’d still never managed to come across my phone. Not since undressing last night. “I need to go upstairs.”

  I got up; Jorge got to his feet as well. “If you guys don’t mind cleaning up…”

  “You cooked, it’s only fair,” Javier said, as he and Mahlen started clearing the table.

  “I still want to sketch you in that dress,” Jorge said as he followed me to the stairs.

  I turned around and gave him a grin over my bare shoulder. “Ah, so here’s that ‘come up and see my etchings’ line again, hm?”

  He snorted. “Not that it worked! You slept with everyone but me!”

  I winked at him. “So far.”

  Jorge laughed, then called down to Javier and Mahlen, “Guys, we might be a while. You can’t rush art, you know.”

  “No, of course not,” Javier said, dryly. But he was smiling.

  And so was I.

  ~*~*~*~

  In his studio, I rummaged through the piles of clothes on the floor. Looked like there’d been an orgy in here. Ha. Eventually I found my jeans at the foot of the divan. Indeed, there was my phone, its battery completely dead. “Oops,” I said. “I usually plug this in at night. I might have been a bit distracted last night.”

  “I have a charger in my bedroom,” Jorge said. “And no, I’m not luring you in there. I really do want to sketch you, before you decide you don’t want to be dressed for a sexy toga party any more.”

  I giggled, turning around to face him. “I said I would be happy to pose.”

  “Great.” His face got that look of intense concentration that said ‘artist’ to me. “So don’t move. Wait—hand me the phone, and then don’t move.”

  I did so; he dashed out to his bedroom, then returned a moment later. “Okay. The light is actually perfect right now. Just stand right there, exactly like that.”

  He pulled out a smaller sketch pad, in a notebook, and flipped to a clean page. Then he came and sat on the divan, looking up at me. I was standing about a foot from it; the morning light was pouring through the windows, making my dress practically shine.

  “Hmm. Turn your head just an inch—that way, yes.”

  He studied me another long moment, then began to draw. I wanted to move just a little, to see what his drawing looked like, but I stayed perfectly still.

  Actually, what I really wanted to see were all the drawings he’d done last night…though I also sort of didn’t dare to. How graphic were they? Was he going to let any of us see them?

  “You’ve got a gleam in your eye you didn’t have a minute ago, and a Mona Lisa smile,” he said. “What are you thinking about?”

  I smiled more broadly, while still trying to hold as steady as I could. “Are we going to have a showing of last night’s art?”

  He snickered; his pencil danced across the page. “Maybe. I got some interesting sculptural form ideas out of it all. Maybe I want to wait and show you a more finished product.”

  “Hm.”

  “Hold still!”

  Had I tossed my head a little? Maybe. “Sorry.”

  “My fault. I shouldn’t have started talking to you.” He bit his lip and concentrated on his sketch pad again, making little murmurs to himself periodically.

  Just when I was about to ask if we could take a break, he said, “There!” and set the pad down. “You can relax now. Sorry—that was a really long session for such a pose.”

  I sat down on the divan next to him, turning my head back and forth to ease the incipient crick in my neck. “That was only a few minutes.”

  “It was almost ten minutes, and that’s long for a standing pose. But the light—I just had to get it. It won’t be like that even another ten minutes from now.” Now he smiled, gazing at me. “Not that you’re not beautiful in any light. But you looked particularly luminescent just then.”

  “Thanks.” I blushed and glanced down at my lap. Yep, still not able to take compliments. Some things will never change.

  “Hey.” Jorge reached a finger forward, lifting my chin ever so gently, turning me to look at him. A spark of desire kindled on my skin at his touch, spreading through me. My tongue suddenly wanted to be intertwined with his; my whole body leaned toward him without my permission, yearning to be close to him. He was so like Javier…and yet not.

  Would their cocks be identical? Or was each man’s his own?

  And was this magic, or something real? The desire certainly felt real.

  “There’s that brain going again,” he whispered. “A million miles an hour.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered back to him. “It’s telling me to kiss you.”

  “Mmm,” he said, and leaned in.

  His mouth met mine and my tongue rejoiced. I breathed in deeply as my hands reached for him, pulling him closer to me, as close as we could get sitting side-by-side on this funny little couch. Within moments, he was helping me maneuver onto his lap. The dress rode up, exposing my bare thighs; he caressed them, pulling me tight to him.

  I kissed him like I was drowning and he was an oasis. He moaned and clutched me close, so close, his hands running down my thighs
and then back up to my ass. The only ‘guest underwear’ I’d found had been, shall we say, not to my liking, so I just hadn’t put any on. “Oh my god,” he whispered, when he discovered that.

  I breathed out a half-laugh. “Your guest closet is very well stocked, but I’m not sure I know many women who would want to wear someone else’s thong.”

  “Ha!” And now he collapsed in laughter. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. It hadn’t even occurred…I try to keep as many kinds of clothes around for models—mostly for costuming, when I need a specific look. You’ll have to advise me on, er, intimate garments.”

  I gave him another deep kiss, then pulled back and said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. I imagine in normal circumstances, folks can be responsible for their own underwear.”

  “Or lack thereof, as the case may be.” His hands were all over my ass now, though one of them twined forward periodically to tease my clit. I shivered and wriggled every time it brushed past, and moaned with delight and desire. I wanted to rip his clothes off and take this further at once, and I didn’t want to stop this astonishing kissing. Jorge was delicious—his taste was certainly his own: musky and sweet, with just the right hint of bacon and syrup underneath.

  He solved my dilemma a minute later by pulling back and lifting my dress over my head. He laid it neatly on the couch next to us, then got up and set me on my bare feet on the floor. “Now I would like to lure you into my bedroom. What do you say?”

  I leaned up and drew him into another deep kiss. “I would love nothing better.”

  He led me by the hand, though of course I knew where we were going, I’d walked through this tidy room several times by now. His king-sized bed was neatly made, with a maroon-and-gold comforter that looked soft and welcoming. I turned around and faced him at the bed, reaching up as we kissed again, and again…I just could not get enough of his kisses. “Mm, you’re good at this,” I purred, as I drew back for a breath.

  “Takes two,” he murmured. “Unless…” He reached behind me and drew the covers back. “My dear?” he said, indicating the edge of the bed.

  I sat on the soft sheets, my feet on the floor.

  Jorge knelt between my legs, drawing my knees apart. “There are other kisses I enjoy too. And all you have to do is sit there.”

  “If I can,” I breathed, as he bent his mouth to my clit, tasting and tempting me at once. “I don’t think I can—oh!—hold as still as if I were posing…”

  He chuckled softly, his tongue still working oh so deliciously. “I don’t need you to. In fact, do your worst. It only makes it more fun.” He brushed my swollen clit with his front teeth, as gently as possible; I shuddered and gasped again, making him laugh once more.

  “You’re wicked,” I managed, my hips already rolling to meet his mouth. “The most, mmm, wicked man ever…” And then I stopped trying to talk altogether and just gave myself over to the pleasure.

  His tongue worked in and out, and then his hand was there too; one finger, then two, found their way inside me, brushing against my G-spot, probing and stretching inside me. I growled and grabbed his hair, holding him there, rocking my hips against him, this huge, delicious man between my knees, between my thighs…he fucked me with his tongue and fingers and I fucked back, squirming, yet also a bit trapped there at the edge of the bed, as his other hand held my hip firmly in place. Such torture. Such delight.

  I could feel the climax building; I was never going to make it further into the bed, to his cock, I was going to come right here…I gasped, my breath coming in short pants as I clung to the back of his head, fucking his mouth, his amazing sweet mouth…

  “Ah!” I cried as I came, waves of sensation pouring through me, the ecstasy starting at my core and emanating outward, filling my veins with magenta fire and delight, sparking and fizzing—even as I knew that this was only the beginning of the story…the fire in me grew insistent, hot, and I was barely done with the orgasm when it crashed through me again. Jorge rubbed his finger over my G-spot again, and again, and each time I cried out, rocking my hips into his face as I spasmed, helpless to stop…

  I don’t even know how many times I crested. At last, they subsided a bit, and I gasped for a deeper breath. He pulled his fingers slowly out, leaving them nestled at my opening, resting them on my throbbing clit, gentling me back down to earth. He kissed my inner thighs gently, first left, then right.

  Oh. My. God.

  I didn’t have words, I barely had thoughts. I lay back on the sheets, my heart pounding, my breath trying to return to something like steady. Slowly, his fingers withdrew, and he planted one final, sweet kiss on my clit, then stood up.

  I blinked my eyes open—when had I closed them?—and saw that he was undressing. “I can…help you with that…” I gasped.

  Jorge smiled down at me. “You just rest a moment. I’ve got this.”

  I watched him undress; he started moving more slowly, letting me savor the vision of him. What a gorgeous, gorgeous man. He unbuttoned his shirt and eased it off, first one shoulder, then the other, then let it fall to the floor… His chest was strong and ripped, the muscles under that tawny skin firm and so, so well defined. He was beefier than his brother, I could see, though they were certainly twins underneath it all.

  “Do a lot of work with metal and other heavy stuff,” he murmured, following my rapt gaze.

  “You’re amazing,” I whispered.

  He smiled down at me. “Not half as amazing as you are.”

  Then he reached for the fly of his jeans. They buttoned all the way down, and he undid each button slowly, deliberately, pausing between each one, giving me a smoldering, starving look. I felt my hips begin to twitch again, and I wanted to get up and grab him, rip those jeans off—but I made myself just lie there, just watch this show…this show that was just for me.

  There were five buttons, or maybe five million, who could count that high? All I know is that it took him forever to undo them, forever to spread that fly open, forever to move his hands to his hips and ease the jeans down, first one side, then the other, then…the jeans fell to the floor and he stepped out of them.

  “Shall I take these off too?” he asked, his voice teasing as he hooked a thumb under the waistband of his black briefs. His cock strained underneath the briefs, reaching for me, dying to be free…I could see evidence of this in the tiny darker spot of pre-cum on the fabric.

  “Unless you’ll let me do it,” I said, my voice breathy and pleading.

  He grinned down at me. “Maybe next time. You still need to recover…I want you strong for what I’m going to do to you next.”

  I shivered in delighted anticipation. “Oh gosh. I can’t wait.” I tried to sound light and teasing, but I only managed to come across as…well, exactly as desperate as I was.

  His grin widened as he worked the briefs slowly over his hips, freeing his cock at the last possible moment. It was as gorgeous as the rest of him, long and thick, at least as thick as Javier’s. Maybe more. A sigh escaped me as my hands reached up of their own accord, but he gently took both of my wrists in one huge hand, holding them away as he leaned down over me, looming atop me. My whole body strained toward his, trying to touch him, to connect skin-to-skin, everywhere, now… “No no,” he whispered. “I want…something very specific, for our first time.” He looked tenderly down into my eyes. “And I hope it won’t be our only time.”

  I gazed up at him, still panting and squirming. “God no, not the only time.”

  “Good.” He gave me a wicked smile. “Because I have lots of plans for you, but from the moment I first saw you at dinner with Mahlen, I’ve had just one thing in mind.”

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  He let go of my wrists and moved off me; my whole body wanted to cry from the loss of even that insufficient contact. But he opened a bedside drawer and was back a moment later, and now he was holding a set of soft black restraints. He held them over me, dangling them over my chest, still grinning, but with a question in his eyes.


  “Yes,” I said, “yes, yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Never had I been tied up before, but oh god, I wanted it. The strong rails of his brass headboard…they just seemed to demand it, there was no other way to make love in this bed. “Yes please. I’m sure.”

  His smile grew. He leaned over me once more and kissed me deeply, even as his hand was snaking the restraint around my right wrist. They closed with velcro; he fastened it, then broke the kiss and tested the hold. “Does this hurt?”

  “No. It’s great.” I wriggled my wrist, testing it myself. “Just perfect.”

  “Good.” He hooked the second restraint around my other wrist. “And this?”

  “Perfect.” I lay flat on my back on the bed, my arms gently over my head, tied to nothing…yet.

  “Scoot up,” he instructed, then helped position me in the center of the bed. “And lie still.”

  I tried so hard to obey, but some force I had no control over just kept my hips wriggling and squirming with anticipation, and my breath coming fast and eager… Jorge smiled as he fastened the other ends of the restraints to the headboard.

  “Test those,” he ordered. “Still okay?”

  I pulled on them, first gently, then harder. “I’m tied down,” I said coyly. “And it feels great.”

  “Good.” He stretched over me again, giving me another deep, soulful kiss. I tasted myself on his tongue, but mostly still just him, and maple syrup, and desire.

  Then he pulled back and began kissing down my body, spending a brief extra moment on my core, giving my clit a little suckle. And then further down, and down, and—there was suddenly a second set of restraints, and the first one was already around my right ankle.