Gift of the Goddess (20 page)

A little sliver of hurt pierced her. “Don’t tell me you haven’t shared a woman before.” A reminiscent shiver raised the hair on the back of her neck. “You’re too damn good.”

“Oh yes.” Trey’s thumb caressed her cheek. “But it’s never been like this. Has it, Brin?”

“No,” agreed the shaman. Gently, he disengaged himself from her burning flesh. Gods, he was still half hard! “But then, we’ve not fucked Lufra’s Gift before.”

As he spoke, he made room for her to straighten her limbs. She stretched luxuriously, then winced.

“Open up, scout.” Brin nudged her thigh.

Anje squinted. “What for?” she asked suspiciously.

“We’ll be riding all day tomorrow. Open up.”

He wet a cloth with water from the gourd and cleansed her meticulously. Then he did the same for himself, completely unselfconscious as he handled his heavy cock, washed around his testicles.

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Finally, he tossed the cloth aside, and lay down between her legs. His shoulders shoved her thighs apart. “What are you—?” Anje’s head fell back as he set his mouth on her.

He dragged the flat of his tongue slowly through her slit. It felt warm and wet and muscular against her aching flesh and she arched into his touch. With a grunt of satisfaction, the shaman slid his hands under buttocks and lifted her for better access.

Strangely enough, it didn’t feel as though he was trying to arouse her. The tongue bath was soothing rather than titillating. His fingertips drew tiny circles on the outside of her thigh. A couple of times, she nearly drifted into a languorous sleep. Mother, he was skilled!

As if from very far away, she heard Trey’s irritated voice, continuing a conversation. “Why not?”

Brin paused in his ministrations, but he didn’t lift his head. “I told you,” he said, “payback,” and blew lightly over her swollen folds. Anje squirmed as he chuckled. “Anyway, you’re one ahead of me. Don’t be selfish.”

Trey swore, but she lost the sound in the delicate sensation of Brin’s pointed tongue, lapping gently at her clit. She sighed with pleasure, her sex humming with joy, and rubbed the sole of one foot over his ribs.

Brin crooned, a deep rumble, and reached up to feather her nipples. Anje gasped and set both feet on his shoulders, opening herself fully. The shaman’s tongue flickered over her abused anus in a warm, tender circle, then furrowed all the way back to her clit. Very slowly, he sucked it into his mouth. The pressure was light, no more than the barest sweep, but a lovely little frisson tingled through her sex and down her thighs. She sighed, replete.

He inserted a fingertip into her vagina and pushed it in a scant inch. “Sore?” he asked, his dark eyes meeting her dazed ones over the slight mound of her belly.

She took a moment to think about it. “Not there.”

“Good.” Smoothly, he rose and straddled her, taking her ass in both hands and notching his cock head in the mouth of her pussy. With a grunt of pleasure, his buttocks flexed and he sank to the hilt in a single glide.

Anje’s eyes flew open, but before she could speak, Brin slid his forearms beneath her head and kissed her deeply. She was comprehensively pinned, anchored at mouth and sex by his muscular body, so much bigger and stronger than hers. Even his hair fell around her like a soft screen.

He lifted his head to stare into her eyes, the goddess flame dancing in his pupils. Sweet Mother, he was a shaman! How many times could he do it? How long would it take to satisfy him fully?

“Put your legs around me, scout.”

“Brin, I—”

“Wrap me up. Do it.”

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She tilted her pelvis and did as she was bid. Brin sank another luscious half-inch, his eyes half closed with pleasure.

Without another word, he set up a long gliding rhythm, drawing out the wet friction against her sensitized tissues. His brow furrowed with concentration and she realized with a shudder of delighted comprehension, that this was solely for
him
, his pleasure.

Instinctively, she knew he didn’t indulge himself this way often and she pressed her calves into the hard curve of his waist. The angle was wrong for her, she’d never climax, but she didn’t care. What she wanted was to hear Brin’s groan of rapture, to feel his seed gush inside her, wet and warm, to know his offering to his strange goddess gave him true ecstasy.

She arched her hips and sank her fingers into his hair, pulling him down to her shoulder. Pressing her lips to his rough cheek, she whispered, “Hard, Brin. Fuck me hard.”

“Lufra!” His hips surged so powerfully, she was shifted several inches across the bedding. His cock thundered into her, slamming out to the tip and back to the root in a brutal rhythm.

Anje exulted, panting.

Over Brin’s heaving shoulder, she saw Trey kneeling, his shaft held in a no-nonsense grip. His fist moved in time with the shaman, but he was having a harder time controlling the swelling tide of his lust.

On a half-strangled gasp, he closed his eyes and threw his head back. His face flushed scarlet. Semen flowed over his clenched fingers, not in spurts, but in vicious, desperate dribbles, hard-won.

The shaman bellowed as he jetted inside her, his big body shuddering and jerking with the force of his climax. Lufra would be a demanding mistress indeed if She failed to be pleased with such an exquisitely brutal offering.

He lay completely still for a moment, blanketing her, the breath rasping in his throat. Then he rolled them both over and draped her limbs over his. “Thanks, scout.” With a long sigh of satisfaction, he settled her head on his shoulder.

“No more, Brin,” she mumbled into hard, sweaty flesh. Strangely enough, though she hadn’t come, she felt a bone-deep sense of completion. Exhaustion tugged at her in a dragging wave. “No more. I’m done, you hear?”

As if from a distance, she heard his dark chuckle, imagined his crooked smile. “You certainly have been.”

She felt Trey draw up a blanket, though Brin’s body spread beneath hers generated heat like a furnace. “Sleep, sweeting. You deserve it.” Trey’s lips brushed her cheek.

Anje wriggled until she was comfortable, ignoring Brin’s halfhearted rumbles of protest. He wrapped an arm around her waist, cupped the back of her head with the other hand. “Mine, scout.”

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Drifting off the edge, she heard Trey say softly, “Ours.”

There was a long, long pause. She felt Brin’s throat move as he swallowed. Anje cranked her eyes open.

Trey was leaning forward, almost nose-to-nose with the shaman. Muzzily, she watched their stares tangle and mesh, the shaman’s midnight gaze hard as flint, Trey’s gold and unblinking.

“I Bonded her.” Brin’s tone was uncompromising.

“I know that.” Trey didn’t shift an inch. His lips set in a stubborn line.

After an age, Brin’s lashes fell and he murmured, “Go to sleep.” Trey’s grin was blinding.

She was still puzzling it out when she fell into the abyss and sleep claimed her.

They took her again in the dark hour before dawn, Brin teasing a soft, lazy climax from her with his fingers, Trey sucking dreamily at her nipples. After a fierce whispered discussion, the shaman rolled her on to her stomach and pushed into her relaxed, receptive sheath from behind. The intrusion, steady and gentle as it was, woke her sufficiently to notice Trey lounging at her elbow with a hard-on that looked positively painful.

Breathing hard through her nose as Brin hit a particularly delicious spot, Anje stretched out a commiserating hand. Trey seized it and clamped her fingers around his shaft, huffing with relief.

The broad head of Brin’s cock slid smoothly over a bundle of nerves deep inside her and Anje’s fingers flexed in reaction. Through half-shut eyes, she watched Trey move their joined hands up and down, cramming her palm against his hot satin skin, pressing it into the iron hardness beneath and demonstrating the rhythm that was the key to his pleasure.

Basking in warm sensation, she pushed back into the shaman’s long thrusts, letting him dictate their shared rhythm. She relaxed into a gentle climax as Trey cried out and spurted over their laced fingers, Brin following without fuss a few heartbeats later.

With a long sigh, he rolled away and Trey tucked her against his side. He skated his fingertips over her ribs. “Gods, I could wake like this every morning of my life.”

Brin sat up, casually magnificent in his nudity. “Not ‘til after the Day of the Dark,” he said. “And for that, we have to be in Feolin.”

He swooped to drop a kiss on Anje’s parted lips. “Don’t ask, scout. I won’t answer.” He rose and reached for his trews, seemingly oblivious of two pairs of hungry eyes tracking every graceful move. “I’ll get the fire going.”

Trey held her a little longer, mumbling extravagant nonsense into her hair, petting and patting, making her chuckle. She stretched in his arms, feeling the fragile beauty of the moment, knowing it was fleeting. Perhaps, if she used his pretty little mirror, she could pick the catch of the torque with her knife without decapitating herself. Brin would be massively pissed if she hurt herself again.

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Darkly amused by the foolishness of her train of thought, she hugged Trey one last time and rose to dress and find the roberry.

The morning air was crisp and cold. A remorseless chill seeped from the rocky walls of the cave and invaded the very bones. Brin brought a gourd of hot water and filled the mug Anje held out to him, watching her shiver as she cradled it between her palms. Without hesitation, he reached for the Bond link between them.
Ah
. The calm, set purity of her features was no reflection of the turmoil inside. She was deeply shaken and determined not to show it.

Wryly, he acknowledged he was no better. He’d done his morning meditation as he watched the Sun and the Shadow rise, tangled together in the sky.

He’d felt the fleeting warmth of Lufra’s benediction, but he didn’t feel calm. Not at all.

Brin glanced at Trey, propped on one elbow under the covers, all firm and fair and elegant despite the tousled curls. Honor dictated he should treat him as the younger brother he’d never had, experience said he could resist an untutored scout. But by Lufra, between them, they’d had his famed control hanging by a thread!

Not for the first time, serious doubts assailed him. He’d been cruel, he knew it. He wasn’t generally so clumsy, but he’d been desperate. The thought of Trey giving his innocence to some stranger! He ground his teeth with hurt and fury, even as his head reeled with lewd images. Trey kneeling, offering that delectable ass, a cock shoving his virgin flesh aside, powering home. Trey’s face, contorted with pain and pleasure. Trey, opening his mouth, swallowing him whole and hot. Trey fucking him, kissing him, owning his soul.

He couldn’t suck enough air into his lungs. Goddess, for all his sexual experience as a shaman, Trey knew more about fucking a man than he did!

The memory of Trey’s cock, the ridge under the head, stroking his again and again through Anje’s sweet flesh, made the eyes roll in his head. There’d been a moment there, when he’d looked into Trey’s eyes over her shoulder—he could have leaned forward a hairsbreadth and taken the lad’s mouth.

Lufra, it had been close!

And every sensation was intensified by Anje’s presence, amplified by the Bond link. Brin watched, his fists clenched, as she bent to fling the covers off Trey’s naked body, snickering at his bellow of outrage. Her unconscious sensuality was like a conduit for lightning between the three of them. The sense of
connection
had been incredible.

As if she felt the weight of his hooded gaze, she turned and propped her hands on her hips. “What?”

Brin forced his lips to relax. Not for the world would he let her glimpse his confusion. “Nothing.”

By Lufra, she was
his
! His to teach, his to pleasure. She wasn’t supposed to test his honor, show him the dark side of his own soul. It must be the Bond link, he decided.

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Because her every action last night had teased him unbearably with the possibility of mastering both of them.

Gods, he didn’t think he could take another session like that without cracking. He wanted her again already, with an urgent desire. But he couldn’t have Anje without Trey, because she had to learn to submit to many cocks, many mouths, many hands, in order to survive the Great Rite.

Darkly, he watched her ferreting through her pack for heavier garments, muttering under her breath. She’d thrown out a challenge, his sweet warrior, and inexperienced as she was, she’d homed in on the only instrument he could barely resist.

Trey.

So be it.

Brin turned and wrenched his saddlebag open. He wouldn’t succumb if it killed him.

But even as he made the vow, his balls tightened and his cock reared in wicked expectation of failure.

108 Gift of the Goddess

Chapter Sixteen

The wise trainer capitalizes on the typical behavior of the wild vranee. In the initial stages of rutting contests, males use their weight against each other, straining shoulder to shoulder. As the battle escalates, hooves and horns come into play and death or serious injury can result. Using the “Four Reinforcements” method described in the following pages, vranee may be trained to use their formidable natural weapons on command.