Chapter Seven

 

I was being tortured by a demon.

I lay flat on my back on a hard stone floor, unable to move a muscle. A grey man bent over me, reaching into me…through me…reaching for my soul, pulling pieces of it out of me, collecting them to himself. It hurt, oh god it hurt.

No! I tried to scream, but I couldn’t move my lips. I couldn’t breathe, almost; my soul was in shreds, and still the demon wouldn’t just kill me. No, this was torture; he would feed on my essence, taking every last part of me, and keep me alive and conscious to it throughout.

I could sense the purple fire all around me—it would save me, if I could only reach it—but I was caged away from it. It encircled us both, but the demon was strong, and he shunted the fire away with hardly any effort.

He bent closer to me. This was it: he was going to drain me, to finish me. I should be relieved, that my punishment was finally going to be over…but I couldn’t help it, I tried to fight back. I wanted to live.

I want to live…

The purple flames grew, and now the demon noticed. He turned his attention, just slightly. Now would be the time for me to fight back, or to escape…if only I could move. But I still lay splayed on the cold stone floor.

I was going to die here.

~*~*~*~

I gasped awake, my heart pounding from the nightmare. A very, very realistic nightmare, for all that it couldn’t possibly be real.

Because demons aren’t real, and one did not try to kill me last week.

I sat up in that big bed, trying to catch my breath, to still my heart. I was alone, and it was fully light outside; I could tell even through the thick curtains over the windows. They must be east-facing; sun tried to find its way around every edge, practically shouting at me: Wake up! You’re late!

“Oh no,” I muttered, rolling over and trying to think about where in the world my phone might be. Somewhere with my clothes, no doubt. Now, where could my clothes be…?

“Don’t worry,” came Mahlen’s voice. I rolled back over and looked at the doorway, where he stood holding two mugs of coffee. “I already called Monique and told her you need another day off to regain your strength. She said to take all the time you need.”

“My god.” I lay back in the bed, simultaneously relieved and chagrined at myself. “I can’t believe I just…slept.” No need to worry Mahlen about any nightmares. I took another deep breath, pushing the unpleasant thoughts away, and smiled at this delectable man. “What time is it?” I asked him.

“Hmm, I don’t know, morning time,” he said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He handed me one of the mugs. “Jorge is working on breakfast, but he’s not going to put pancakes on the griddle until you’re seated at the table with a fork in your hand.”

I sipped the coffee: perfect. “Well, he might have to wait a while, then. I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

Mahlen sipped his own coffee, then set it on the nightstand and leaned in to nuzzle me: at the nape of my neck, between my breasts, further down. “Shower if you like, but you smell delicious to me.”

I giggled. “I do like to shower, thank you very much. I might even be interested in a little help. I seem to remember you’re pretty good at that.”

“You could probably tempt me if you tried real hard,” he teased. “But I’m rather hungry, I have to admit. What about we do breakfast first, then clean up? You might get maple syrup all over yourself or something. Bacon grease. Whipped cream. Who knows? It would be awful to have to shower twice.”

“Mm, that would be awful,” I agreed. “Perish the thought.” But I was hungry too, come to think of it. He had a point. And if the other guys were waiting downstairs for breakfast…

The other guys. Oh good god, I’d slept with Javier last night. Well, not slept. Most decidedly not slept.

Mahlen was watching my face, while carefully pretending not to. Now he gave me a gentle look. “You okay?”

I sighed. “Yeah. I think. I don’t know. I just…I’ve got a lot to think about, I guess.”

He smiled and scooted up to sit closer to me on the bed, leaning over again to give me a kiss. “Let me echo your boss: take all the time you need.”

“Thanks.” I sipped more of my coffee. “Actually, what’s weirdest is that…it doesn’t feel all that weird. If that makes sense.”

Mahlen nodded. “It does, and I say that because I feel much the same way. When consenting adults all decide to do something together because they really want to—because it feels good, to everyone, and everyone’s entirely okay with it—well, it may be unfamiliar, but it shouldn’t feel weird or wrong.”

I frowned, still thinking. “That’s all true. But what makes it even more interesting is a really strange conversation I had Monday afternoon. Right before you, um, came in and had us make that big print for you.”

He looked at me over his coffee cup. “Oh? What was that?”

From downstairs, I heard Jorge yell up, “Hey guys! Everyone’s starving to death down here! Get a move on!”

I giggled; Mahlen was still looking at me, waiting to hear the story. “I’ll tell you after breakfast,” I said, getting out of bed and setting my coffee down on the dresser. “Right now we need to find me something to wear.”

~*~*~*~

Jorge’s guest room was very well-appointed; it had a supply of clothing for guests, though none of it was very casual. I suppose I could have hunted up my jeans and T-shirt and sweatshirt from last night, but I found myself falling in love with a form-fitting white tunic dress. It was an off-the-shoulder design; super elegant. “Most overdressed pancake-eating ever,” I said, laughing as I shrugged into it and stood before the mirror, smoothing it down over my hips. “It’s like going to a costume party all over again.”

Mahlen stood behind me, admiring me—first with his eyes, then with his hands as he pulled me to him. “Costume party?”

I smiled at him in the mirror. “That’s part of the story I’m going to tell you after breakfast.”

He nodded, looking suddenly thoughtful. “It’s not…something you want to talk about at breakfast, perhaps?”

I turned around in his arms, looking up into his eyes directly. “What do you mean?”

“These brothers are my best friends in the world. I trust them implicitly, all the way down. It’s part of what I meant earlier, about consenting adults and everyone being okay with things: I am not the kind of guy who wants to share his girlfriend with everyone. But Jorge and Javier? They mean the world to me. It made me feel closer to you, to see Javier making love to you. To see Jorge sketching you—sketching us—as we all connected that way. It felt…” He trailed off, raising his eyes to the ceiling as if the right words could be found written there. “It felt somehow magical. Like something bigger than all of us was going on.” Now he looked back at me, his eyes earnest. “Does that make sense? I’m not explaining it well, I know.”

I took his hands in mine, looking back at him as I bit my lip briefly, thinking hard. “All right. Maybe I do need to talk to all of you about this.”

“Then let’s go have breakfast.”

We walked down the wide staircase hand in hand, meeting the twins in the kitchen. Javier’s eyes widened as he caught sight of me in the white dress. “Oh, my.” He came and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. “More coffee?”

“Yes please.” I held out my mug, and he refilled it from a carafe on the counter, and Mahlen’s as well.

Jorge stood over the stove, holding a ladle over a bowl of batter; he too froze and stared at me. “I must sketch you in that. Say that you will pose for me in that dress, Grace. Right after breakfast.”

I smiled. “I think I could probably do that.”

He gazed at me another long moment, then shook his head and returned his attention to the ladle. “Okay. I’m gonna cook now. Is everybody ready?”

“Yes, cook, cook already!” Javier cried, giving his brother a gentle nudge with his elbow. “We’re dying here.”

“All right then.”

In a minute, the intoxicating aroma of cooking pancakes, followed soon by the even more delicious scent of sizzling bacon, filled the kitchen.

“If anyone is looking for something to do, mimosas need assembling,” Jorge put in, flipping a perfectly golden-brown pancake and pointing at four champagne flutes lined up on the counter.

“Your wish is my command,” Mahlen said, leaping into action. He found a sparkling bottle of something in the fridge and opened it expertly, then turned to Jorge. “Orange or grapefruit?”

“I have both. See what everyone wants.”

“I’ve never had a grapefruit mimosa,” I said. “I’ll try that.”

“Grapefruit for me too,” said Javier, walking back in from the dining room where he had been setting out plates.

“I think we have a quorum,” Jorge said. “Unless you want to be the odd man out, but you’re the bartender, so you do you.” He pulled pancakes off the griddle with a skinny spatula and piled them on a plate under the warming burner at the back of his stove, then started ladling out a second batch.

“Nah, I’ll follow the crowd.” Mahlen poured the flutes half full of champagne, then the rest of the way with juice. “Help me carry these to the table?” he asked me.

“Of course.”

“Fork in hand!” Jorge called out as I went, so I just sat down at my place and obeyed, as did my two lovers.

(Oh my goodness my two lovers.)

Two minutes later, Jorge walked in carrying a steaming platter with at least as much dramatic presentation as he had last night. “You should open a restaurant,” I said as he set the plate of pancakes and bacon in the center of the table.

“Not a tiny chance,” he said, taking his own seat and raising his champagne flute. “I can’t think of a worse job than trying to please the ungrateful hipsters of this town. I only cook for friends.” He smiled around the table at us all, his eyes lighting on his brother. “Well, and family too. Here’s to friends and family!”

“To friends and family!” we all echoed.

I took a sip of my mimosa: just delicious. “Mm, not as sweet as orange,” I said. “I like it.”

Jorge leaned forward and piled a short stack of pancakes on my plate, along with a few pieces of bacon. “As long as you’re holding your fork like such a good girl—dig in! Here’s heated syrup,” he added, handing me a small pitcher.

The table got really quiet for a while as we all scarfed down the amazing food. I guess we had been hungry… But then we eventually resurfaced, and began making conversation. Mahlen refilled our mimosas; the alcohol helped everything to feel nice and mellow and fuzzy.

And sent my nightmare further into the recesses of my mind…though I couldn’t forget it entirely. Nor the fact that I’d promised to talk about…things…with everyone.

“So,” I said, at long last, setting down my fork and rubbing my full belly. “I guess maybe we should all talk about…this?” I looked around the table at everyone, suddenly absurdly shy.

Javier reached over and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He glanced over at his brother for a moment and then turned back to me. “Being twins, Jorge and I are accustomed to a greater degree of closeness than most people ever achieve in life, even with their spouses. We’ve literally always been together, from the womb onward.”

“Doesn’t mean everything’s always perfect, or that we don’t sometimes get competitive,” Jorge put in with a smile. “I know Javier’s chomping at the bit to cook for you. While I am eager to…”

“Don’t derail the conversation, bro,” Javier said. “The point being, we’ve got communication—and sharing—down to a science.”

I nodded. “That’s great, and I can actually tell that, with you guys. But Mahlen isn’t even related to you.”

“Mahlen is a special soul,” Javier said.

Jorge added, “But you probably already knew that.”

“I had a feeling…” I turned to gaze at my new boyfriend, who was looking all adorable and bashful.

“I thought you were going to be telling us something, Grace,” he said, squirming a little in his chair. “Not putting me on the spot.”

“I’m working up to it,” I said. “This is…complicated.” I took a deep breath and looked around the table. “I love that you guys are so comfortable with each other—all three of you. I…um, loved last night, and everything that happened. I even…” I looked across at Jorge through my eyelashes, too shy to look him straight in the eye. “…maybe might consider, um…”

“Yes, I’ve been hoping so,” he said quietly.

“Oh jeez this is too weird!” I said, shaking my head, but unable to stop smiling. “Why was it easier to do…all that…than it is to talk about it?”

All three men busted out laughing. “One of the mysteries of the universe, I guess,” Javier said. “So, will it make it easier to talk about if we’re not all staring at you? We could start clearing the table or something.”

I took a deep breath. “No, this is dumb. Let me just do this.” I took another moment, sorting my thoughts, and remembering how Emma Foster had tried, and failed, to convince me. “Okay, it’s like this: I went to a fancy costume party up in the hills, just up there,” I pointed, “last week, and I met this nice woman. And then after that, I basically don’t remember anything for like four days, and I woke up at home all sick and weak, like I’d had the worst flu, and amnesia.”

All three men were looking shocked, and surprised, and not a little confused. Clearly this was not where they’d expected this conversation to go.

“So I recovered a bit, pretty much, and went back to work on Monday, and this woman Emma who I’d met at the party called me to have coffee, and at coffee she explained that a demon had attacked me, and almost killed me, and that magic is real and can protect us all against demon attacks, and the way to access this magic is through bonded sex-groups of a woman and, um, several men.” Four men. Emma had been real specific, that there had to be four men. “She said that she and her harem of men had saved my life, but that we’re all still threatened and that I needed to get with some men that she’d chosen for me, and then—I don’t know what exactly, because that’s the point at which I told her that I needed to go.” I turned to Mahlen. “So I went back to work and like two hours later you came in, with your print, and…then it went from there.” I clamped my mouth shut and looked around at all of them.

“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.

“How is this?” he asked.

I tugged at it, testing, pulling. “I suppose you must, if you want me to hold still.”

“I do, I really do.” He watched me a moment longer, making sure it was okay, and then restrained my left ankle. “Not too tight?”

“No. Perfect.”

He fastened each ankle restraint to the footboard, spreading my legs wide. I could still wriggle, but otherwise my range of motion was much reduced. Desire pounded through me. I felt my face flush with it, and my veins fill with it.

Jorge got off the bed and stood over me, gazing down at me. “I don’t know whether to fuck you or draw you,” he said, his voice husky and almost pained. “You’re…amazing.”

I stared back at him, arching up as much as I could. “Well, I know what my vote is.”

“Compromise,” he suddenly said, reaching for his phone. He swiped it open and snapped a few quick pictures, then tossed it aside. “For later.”

“Yes, oh yes,” I breathed.

Then he climbed slowly back onto the bed, crawling till he was over me once more, though somehow barely touching me. His dark brown eyes bored into mine as he studied my face—half artist, half lover. He leaned down and gave me a gentle, soft kiss, then drew back up again.

I twisted beneath him, trying to reach up, but I could do so very little. This was all his game. I didn’t even speak, instead just conveying my desire with my eyes. And my breath, and my squirming hips, and…

His luscious lips twisted up into a smile. “Ah, such a beautiful creature, so helpless beneath me. What shall I do with you?”

“Fuck me,” I whispered.

“Hmm. I like that idea.” He shifted, leaning down just a little, and placed his gorgeous cock right at my opening. Instead of entering me, though, he reached down and took hold of his shaft, massaging the tip of his cock against my slick wetness. “Like this?”

“More,” I sighed. “In me, put it in me.”

“Put what in you?” His eyes were light and teasing. He was going to make me say it. He was going to make me beg for it.

“Put your cock in me. Please.”

“Like this?” He inched it forward, putting just the tip inside me. I squirmed and arched and reached, trying to take him deeper, but he eased back as I did so, keeping himself just…barely…there.

I groaned in maddened frustration. “More! Fuck me, put it all the way in!”

Jorge chuckled, giving me another inch. One measly, stingy inch, and then he pulled his whole cock back out again. “Such a greedy girl, for one who’s already had, hmm, three orgasms? Four? A dozen?”

“Who can count them?” I managed. “More!”

He eased forward again. Maybe three inches this time, then back out. So slowly.

Back in. Back out. A slow, gentle, torturous caress.

Maybe a little deeper. Or maybe I was just losing my mind. I met his rhythm as best I could, but he kept teasing, slowing down when I tried to speed up, then suddenly giving me a half-inch more. “You feel very nice,” he whispered, still grinning down at me. “I could do this all day.”

“Noooo,” I moaned. “You’ll kill me.”

Now he gave a broad smile. “Ah, poor creature.” And he—at last, at last!—took his hand away and eased his cock slowly down all the way into me, sinking to the hilt.

I almost came right then, it felt so amazing, so incredible. The sparks took off through my veins, making it hard to breathe for a moment; my vision was all purple fire, flames licking everywhere. But then he was pulling back out again—and then in again, still so slow, but steady now, like he meant it. His right hand, now free, moved up to my breast, cupping it, then flicking a finger across the nipple.

I squirmed and tugged my limbs against the restraints, wishing I could grab him and pull him tight to me, could wrap my legs around his strong, slender waist; but I was trapped, essentially motionless…just a captive to be fucked.

He fucked harder, a little faster. He began to moan softly, his breath coming in little gasps periodically, his hand clutching my breast as if he was holding on for dear life; I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and on his upper lip. I wanted to lick them away, oh god I wanted to taste them…but now he had his eyes closed and was just fucking me. He caught a rhythm and kept it, his hips moving easily against me, his cock filling me deeply. He still kept most of the rest of his weight up off me, holding himself with his elbows, as if he would hurt me. As if he could hurt me.

I fucked him back, moving as much as I could, welcoming him in me, thrusting harder and harder against him. Our breaths matched as we panted faster, faster. I too closed my eyes, letting the sensations fill me, finally just giving in to this crazy, fantastic journey I was on, letting him have his way with me.

Now he was pounding into me, driving hard, pinning me to the bed with his marvelous cock, letting up only to pin me again, faster, harder. I could see his eyelids flutter and I could feel his orgasm build, like I had with his twin, only sooner this time; our energies met, swelled, grew; I was being shattered, I was over the edge…

I came, screaming with pent-up desire and pleasure and ecstasy, the purple fire exploding within me, soaring through me and into Jorge, who came with a shout to match mine, filling me with his magical essence, making us all one—yes, us all, for in that moment I felt my other two lovers, I felt Mahlen and Javier, though they were not in the room, they were here with me, with us, we were all united…

And the waves and waves of my orgasm pummeled me, sending me even higher, when I thought I’d already fallen over; I peaked again, gasping for breath, opened wide, wide to the universe, helpless to control a thing…

It was a while before I truly came back to myself. I had almost forgotten I was tied up; I’d gone so deeply into the sensations roiling through me, through us both.

“My god, woman,” Jorge breathed, lying beside me on the bed, still breathing hard. When had he moved off of me? I didn’t even remember that.

It worried me, just a little.

“I know,” I sighed, turning my head to smile at him.

He smiled back, but he looked shaken too. “I’ve never experienced anything like that, not even remotely.”

I took a deep breath. “This…is kind of all new ground for me too.”

He reached up from where he was lying and unfastened the restraint holding my right wrist to the headboard.

“Ooh, thanks,” I said, slowly bringing my arm down. It had felt beyond amazing to be held down like that…but my arm was thankful for the increased range of motion now. I felt little prickles of life returning to it, though it hadn’t entirely fallen asleep.

“Seems only gentlemanly to let you go, now that I’ve had my way with you,” Jorge teased, moving down the bed to free my right ankle, then the left one.

I wiggled my legs, letting them wake up too as he went up and undid the final wrist. “Well, I do appreciate it, kind sir.”

We were flirting, bantering…yet it was forced. I could tell that we were both a little blown away by the sex we’d just had. Amazing, astonishing sex, and I wasn’t the least bit sorry about it…I just didn’t quite understand it.

All my limbs now free, I sat up in the bed and looked over at Jorge. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking back at me. “Okay,” he said at last. “I…wasn’t even actually intending to do that, just now. I mean, I wanted so badly to fuck you, but I honestly thought we were coming upstairs to get your phone, and so I could sketch you in that dress. I thought the lovemaking would come…later, maybe. This evening. I don’t know.” He looked at me helplessly. “Mahlen and Javier are just downstairs—waiting for us?”

“I guess so,” I said. “I mean, we did tell them we might be a while. And they seemed to understand…” I cast my mind back. Yes, there was at least the hint of what we might be up to. But had I expected it? “If my phone’s charged up by now, I should really call Emma. I think I need to talk to her.”

Jorge leaned forward and gave me a kiss, then settled back with a serious look on his gorgeous face. “If magic truly is real, then I’m pretty sure that’s what we just experienced.” He paused, then added, “And…I’m not entirely sure it’s good for us.”