Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter #16 - Blood Noir (4 page)

Nathaniel said, “Get a condom.”

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3

JASON PRESSED HIS
fingers into the backs of my thighs, spreading my legs wider. Nathaniel squeezed me tight at the same time, as if he’d crush my arms against my body. I made small, helpless noises for him. Jason lifted me minutely, getting the angle he wanted, then shoved himself inside me. There was nothing gentle about it, and I was wet enough I didn’t need gentle. The feel of him shoving himself into me, as hard and fast as he could, drove a sound from my mouth, but not the sound he wanted. He said, in a low, breathy voice, “I can’t get the angle I want.”

“What do you need?” Nathaniel asked, from behind me. His voice wasn’t breathy, but just deep. Jason had stopped moving inside me, so I could think again. “A new position,” I said, my voice breathy, too.

“Oh,” Jason said, “I am not doing my job if you can still talk.” He put action to word and started moving, slowly, in and out of me.

It felt wonderful, but Jason was right, he needed a different angle to push me over that edge. I looked him in the eyes and said, in a clear voice, “You’re right, this position isn’t going to do it.”

Jason laughed. He kissed me, and if he hadn’t still been wet with my juices, I might have called it a friendly kiss. “Some men would be insulted.”

“You aren’t some men. You like feedback,” I said.

Nathaniel had stopped squeezing me, and was more just holding me. That helped me think, too.

“Do you want a new position?” and he wasn’t asking me.

“Yes,” Jason said.

“I want to do one thing before we change,” Nathaniel said.

“What do you want me to do?” Jason asked.

“What you were doing,” Nathaniel said.

Jason looked at him a moment, but he went back to going in and out of me. He wasn’t as hard as he’d started, too much talking, too much hesitating, but he was still hard enough to do what Nathaniel asked. For me, I was simply content to let Nathaniel be in charge. Content to revel in this blossoming strength, as he owned his sexuality in a way that he never had before. I’d been working with Asher to help meet Nathaniel’s needs in the BDSM, and it had brought out a deep, inner happiness in him that I hadn’t known was there.

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While Jason pushed between my legs, Nathaniel raised my skirt the last few inches to bare my ass, so that I could feel his nakedness against me. The sensation of his hardness pressing into my ass, and Jason inside me at the same time, threw my head back, closed my eyes, made me cry out.

“What are you doing back there?” Jason asked.

“Rubbing. What position do you want?” he asked.

“Her, on her back on the couch.” This time he didn’t ask me. I think he knew what Nathaniel would say, and there was no bad choice here. It was just a matter of how good it was going to be. Nathaniel pressed himself harder against me, and it made me writhe again. Asher and Nathaniel had taught me that neither of them had to be inside me to make me react like this. There was just something about being pressed between two men, feeling them rubbing against me, that simply did it for me.

Jason was harder, more securely inside me now. He liked the writhing, but then most men did. It was an involuntary response on my part, but I liked the effect it had on most men, and the effect that their liking it had on me. My body encouraged them with every movement, every spasm, and their bodies responded to that encouragement. Go, team.

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4

WE ENDED WITH
me on the couch, my arms above my head over the arm of the couch. Nathaniel held my wrists against the arm, but it wasn’t like he was holding me down. It was more the way you hold hands when one of you has thrown your body into the sky, and you reach out to catch the hands that you know will be there. The hands keep you from falling. The hands that keep you airborne. Jason found his angle on top of me, his body slamming into mine as hard and as fast as he could. Since he was stronger than your average human, that was very hard and very fast. He rose above me so that most of his body was held away with his hands on the couch, his lower body the only thing that was touching me. It gave me an unobstructed view of his body pounding into mine. Just the sight of it was enough to throw my head back and make me scream my pleasure. I fought against Nathaniel’s hands, fought to touch Jason’s body, to carve my nails down that smooth flesh, but Nathaniel held me tight; his strength held me tighter than any chains. I felt Jason’s body give one last hard push, and I opened my eyes. I watched his body spasm over mine, watched him fight his body to keep his hands on the couch, his body held above mine. He kept his position for one last shudder that made me writhe underneath him. Then he collapsed on top of me, as if someone had cut his strings. He collapsed on top of me, his breathing ragged, heart pounding so hard I could feel it through my shirt.

Nathaniel said, “My turn.”

Jason laughed, then said, still on top of me, “Can’t move yet.”

“Move enough for me to move, Anita,” Nathaniel said. He made it sound quite orderish. So unlike Nathaniel only a few weeks ago.

Jason rolled himself off the couch to half-collapse onto the floor. Nathaniel grabbed me under the arms and pulled me over the arm of the couch. He didn’t try to get me to walk; he knew better. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bedroom. He tossed me down on the bed, pulled my jacket over my shoulders, and threw it on the floor. The look on his face was so intense, so eager, a controlled franticness. He had to undo my belt so he could get both the skirt and my shoulder holster off. I tried to help, but he slapped my hands away. I was playing bottom tonight, which meant he wanted me either passive or obedient. Obedient wasn’t my gig, and he knew that, so passive it was. When he had me nude, he put his hands on my waist and half-lifted, half-pushed me toward the head of the bed. His voice was breathy, eager, and full of all that newfound force, when he said, “I want you in the cuffs.”

He was the dominant in that moment, but he still asked, rather than ordered. Why? Because I’d never worn the cuffs. They were sport cuffs attached permanently, of late, to the headboard. But they were soft nylon and fastened with Velcro. I flat refused to use handcuffs, or anything that I couldn’t file://L:\Azures L_Disc Shared Dowloads\EBooks\Anita Blake Series 1-17\(Book16] - Bl... 10/18/2009

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get out of if I had to. The sport cuffs were perfect. You could be tied up for real, and still know that you could get away if you wanted to. Me, trust issues, nah.

Nathaniel had used the sport cuffs on our bed more than once. Even Micah had done it, though I think he did it more to humor us than because of desire. But never me. I stared up into his face. His desire, his bravery at asking, was all there in his face. I’d been tied down with Asher and Nathaniel, and if I admitted it to myself, I’d had a good time. Why not this, then? Issues—mine.

I looked up into the face of the man I loved, and I said, “Okay.”

The smile he gave me made it worth a yes. He fastened the Velcro around my wrists, nice and snug. I pulled on the chains because I could never not pull. I could never not test the limits. Nathaniel leaned down, his body kneeling between my legs but not touching. His hair spilled out around us like some sort of warm, living tent. On another man I would have said it fanned out by happy accident, but Nathaniel used his hair in his act, as a sort of extra body part to caress and tease. He knew how to spill his hair around a woman so that it framed and billowed. He leaned down with all that hair framing his face, our bodies, the edges of the thickness of it caressing the sides of my body. He kissed me, soft, gentle, his lips caressing mine.

It wasn’t the kiss I was expecting. It must have shown on my face, because he smiled and said, “I am going to fuck you, but I wanted you to know how much I love you before I fuck your brains out.”

He grinned at the last.

I had to smile back. “I want you inside me, Nathaniel, please.” Tied up, I knew he’d like the
please
even more than normal. I was learning the rules of being on bottom as well as on top. He gave me a look that made me shiver. A look so dark, so full of potential that I pulled on the cuffs at my wrist. I couldn’t help it. There was something…dangerous in that look. It was one of the highs of BDSM, that possibility of disaster and pain. Not the pain you wanted, but that this time your partner could go too far. We had our safe words, and I trusted Nathaniel implicitly, or I would never have let him tie me up, but still…part of the game was that you looked into your lover’s eyes and let him see, that you saw the darkness in them. That you saw the potential for…evil, but you trusted that he wouldn’t do it. You trusted him enough to be helpless. It was a lot of trust to have. More than I’d ever had in my life for anyone, I think. This odd trust.

He swirled his hair over one shoulder the way you’d sweep a cape to one side. He bared the line of his body and lowered himself toward me. He didn’t put on a condom. I was on the pill, but I still made most of the men in bed use condoms. Micah was fixed, so there was no need. But lately, with Nathaniel, we’d just stopped using them. I’d had sex on just the pill for years with no problems, but still…But I could feel the difference between condom and no condom, and I knew that Nathaniel could.

There was something about being tied down while he slipped inside me with no protection that added to the illusion. BDSM was like stripping. Stripping was about the illusion that the customer could have the dancers for real sex. BDSM was about the illusion that you would truly hurt the person, that you would truly do exactly what the game pretended. file://L:\Azures L_Disc Shared Dowloads\EBooks\Anita Blake Series 1-17\(Book16] - Bl... 10/18/2009

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He plunged himself as deep inside me as he could get, then he hesitated. I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Jason was leaning in the doorway. The condom was gone, so he’d cleaned up.

Nathaniel started to do what he’d said, he started fucking me. Almost immediately, small sounds of pleasure fell from my lips. But I managed to gasp out, “You waited for Jason?”

“Yes,” he said, and drove himself in and out of me. He knew where the spot was inside me, from almost every position we’d tried. Tonight was no different. He drove himself over that spot close to the entrance, but he also hit that spot deep inside me, because he knew I’d go from both. The orgasm from the G-spot grew, a slow, powerful build, but the orgasm from the cervix being hit didn’t grow, it was just suddenly there. One minute I was riding the rhythm of his body, the next I was screaming, pulling at the chains hard enough to rattle them. I wanted to touch his skin, wanted to mark my pleasure down his body.

When my body quieted, Nathaniel drew back, so that he no longer hit deep inside me. He played himself over and over in shallow strokes on that other spot. He was in a position similar to the one Jason had taken, but with even less of him touching me, not much more than the tip of him caressing over and over on that sweet spot.

Jason was beside the bed now, leaning on the lower bedpost. He watched us, and I caught Nathaniel looking at him. Nathaniel liked an audience.

He turned his attention back to me, and I watched him fight his body, to keep that shallow rhythm. I watched down the line of his body, watched his stomach, his groin, his hips, all working in that athletic line, that muscular control. And all the while, the orgasm grew like some pressing weight, some building energy between my legs. Then between one stroke and the next, the orgasm spilled up, over, through, and I shrieked my pleasure to the ceiling. Head back, eyes closed, back arching, and screaming.

I pulled on the restraints at my wrist and they added to the pleasure, they made me scream louder. I don’t know why, I couldn’t have explained it, but I liked being held down. I just did. Sex isn’t about logic; it’s about what feels right.

Nathaniel waited until my body had quieted before he plunged back inside me as far and as hard as he could. He fucked me until he brought me one last time, and then, and only then, did he let himself go. He shuddered above me, inside me, and I felt his release, and that made me cry out all over again.

He leaned over me, a dew of sweat decorating his chest, a smile spread across his face. He said in a breathless voice, “I love you, Anita.”

“Nathaniel, I love you, too.”

Jason leaned on the bedpost, staring at us with serious blue eyes. He’d enjoyed the show—that showed in his face, and his body—but there was something a little lost around the edges of his eyes. We were his friends, maybe his best friends, but it wasn’t the same thing. Even with sex added, it wasn’t the same thing.

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5

WHEN WE COULD
walk, we cleaned up. Then all three of us went back to lie on the bed and recover a little. I ended up in the middle, as I did most of the time. Jason said, “You are so uncomfortable with sex, Anita, but once you decide to do it, you give yourself over so completely. It’s amazing.”

“You’re pretty good at it yourself,” I said, and my voice still sounded breathy. He laughed, and that one sound made it all worth it. Even if the sex hadn’t been incredible, hearing him sound like himself again made it even better.

“My dad thinks I’m gay.”

Nathaniel and I looked at him. “Why?” I finally asked.

“My friends in high school were mostly girls, and my best guy friend was, and is, gay. I also didn’t want to play sports. I stayed in dance from elementary school to senior year.”