Punk and Zen (51 page)

We stopped walking.

Fran stuck a hand in her pocket and looked
at the water. Samantha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Well, Graham asked for Ann R Key
specifically, and he told the new head that I know you both…so they thought it
would be better all around if—”

“Um, would you believe me if I said we’re
courting you?” Samantha interrupted Fran, looking at me directly, her face
inscrutable in the half-light.

What? Was she serious? I shrugged myself
free of both of them and took a step forward so I could see them a bit better.

“You’re not serious?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she grinned crookedly, “pick one.”

“Jesus, Sam…” Fran breathed out, giving
her an annoyed look. She shook her head.

Jesus was right. And Mary, and Joseph, and
anyone else you could name. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? How
in the hell was I supposed to do that? It’s not like I was trying to decide
between two new pairs of boots. And besides, if I was? I usually got both
anyway. Eesh.

“Well, what if I don’t want to?” I asked.
I mean, hey, ask an easy question, you get an easy answer, right?

They exchanged a glance, and Fran returned
her gaze to the water.

“You could have us both,” Samantha said
softly, and shrugged.

Fran’s eyes met mine. “If you wanted,” she
added quietly.

I picked a rock up off the ground and
tried to skip it across the water. What the hell? Pick one, the other, or both?
How was that supposed to work, anyway? One hop, two, three, and the rock sank
in with a splunk. Besides, in a way, like Candace had said back in Ibiza,
didn’t I carry them with me all the time?

I touched the charms that hung from my
neck and faced them again after I knew that rock was on its way down. “What do
you mean?” I asked, looking from one still face to the other. “I already have
you both.”

Nobody said much of anything on the way
back to the apartment, although there was this kinda loose agreement, or at
least an understanding, that this was something we should probably discuss a
bit more, and probably more than a bit.

My head was spinning with the weight of
what Samantha and Fran had offered because it wasn’t even remotely close to
anything I had even—well, okay, that wasn’t entirely true. There had been those
few encounters, but…that was just sex, you know? I hadn’t cared about those
girls, or even myself if I was honest; it was still something I felt so
disconnected from.

But Fran…if I really took time to let
myself feel it, I adored. I couldn’t get around it, past it, through it, or
over it. The best I could do was ignore it, and I did that badly.

And Samantha? Samantha was under my skin
in ways that I still can’t describe, the beacon that called me like the sound
the ferries made through the fog at night—constant, low, and wistfully mournful
for a home that might never be reached again and remains forever missed.

I didn’t know what to think as I sat
between them on the sofa with a movie playing on the TV that none of us was
really watching while we finished first one, then another, pitcher of the
sangria we’d made from the wine we’d brought back from dinner—those bottles
went pretty fast.

Somewhere in the back of my head, this one
thought persisted. Maybe, just maybe, still, even now, this had nothing to do
with me—it was between Francesca and Samantha, a dance of approach and
avoidance that they couldn’t resolve and in some ways used me to translate
between them.

Ironically, that didn’t bother me, at
least, not in the way you might think, because in a very real way, I truly
thought Sammy and Fran were good for each other. They’d been friends for such a
long time, had remained close even with all the things they’d been through—and
once they’d actively admitted to being attracted to one another. Maybe they
still were and just couldn’t deal with it, which is kinda silly, but, hey,
people are, right?

That was all my brain could come up with,
the wall I’d hit and couldn’t get past right then—this was more about them than
me.

I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I
did.

“This is not a choice,” I warned Samantha
as I faced to her. She stared at me a moment, her eyes almost translucent in
the flickering light of the television. I took her hand from her lap, held it
in mine, and softly pressed my lips to hers. The raw sensuality of her response
made my breath catch into a knot in my throat where it flooded back down into
my chest, making my heartbeat ragged, painful.

When I let her go, I kept her hand on my
leg and went to Fran, who’d been studiously focused on the television. I cupped
her face gently and turned her eyes to mine. “This is not a choice,” I repeated,
and her eyes widened when I leaned in to kiss her—those beautiful lips, that
gorgeous mouth again on mine, and my heartbeat, still ragged from Samantha,
sang at the reliving of memory.

When I finally let her go, I had Fran’s
hand in one of mine, Samantha’s in the other.

“I don’t think this is about me,” I told
Samantha and kissed her cheek. “I think this is about you and her,” I said to
Fran and kissed her briefly as well.

I let go of both their hands and stood up,
then faced them both. They stared at me.

“You guys have to work this out.” They
glanced at each other, puzzled, before focusing back on me.

“Nina,” Samantha asked quietly, “what do
you mean?”

I smiled at her fondly. “I mean
that…there’s something between you, between the two of you,” and I shared that
smile with Fran, “that you have to figure out.”

Fran shook her head lightly, like she
didn’t understand. That was okay.

“Well,” I announced, because I’d probably
done all the damage I could for one lifetime, “I’m going to bed. You guys…do
what you need to do, I guess.”

I leaned down and gave each of them
another hug and kiss good night. “Let me know what you decide, okay?” I said as
I went to my room and left them there staring at each other.

I flipped on the low light on my
nightstand, got undressed, and slipped into my bed. I was tired, buzzed, and
strangely happy—because I trusted Samantha and Francesca to work this out, and
I loved them both so much, the thought of them together in any way had a
beautiful feel.

I roused slightly as the bed shifted
behind me and Fran wrapped herself around my back, her skin velvety against
mine. I stretched a bit, enjoying the remembered warm fit of her against me,
and twisted my head to enjoy the press of her lips against my throat as her
hands molded the contours of my ribs, my waist, gripped and pulled gently on my
hip.

“Missed you…so much,” she murmured hotly
against my jaw and touched my face in the way that was hers and hers alone.
< /span>

I turned in her arms and cupped her face,
then tangled my fingers in her hair as I brought my lips to hers. I lost myself
in the welcome of her mouth, in the elegant play of her tongue against mine,
and the strength of her hands as they retraced my body again and again.

I wasn’t shocked, or even surprised, when
the heat that I always knew as my Sam warmed my back again and her hands joined
Fran’s, cupping my breast, rolling the nipple between her slender fingers until
it was hard, and I groaned with the sensation. I arched my back into Samantha,
which ABC forced my hips forward, my pussy against my beautiful lion,
hers pushing back against me.

I let go of her hair and reached back and
over my head for Samantha, bringing her face to mine, kissing her with the
desperate hunger she raised in me, and Fran licked my throat, biting gently,
then pulling on the tendon with her teeth. Her hand slipped down, scraping
lightly between Samantha’s fingers before it traveled farther, back to my
hip, wrapping around me, grabbing my ass in such a way that she moved the
aching lips of my cunt, and as I sucked on Samantha’s tongue I tasted Fran.

Fire. I was molten fire, flowing between
the diamond that was my Sammy Blade and the contained strength that was Fran. I
loved her, I was in love with Samantha. I wanted them, needed them, both, here,
now, and I slipped my hand away from my Blade’s head and between us, behind me,
gripping along the tightened muscles of her stomach until I found the treasure
I’d been seeking, the fine, light hairs of her amazing cunt, the hard
prominence that spoke of her desire, and I gratefully slipped my fingers
between her wet lips, never more at home than when I was there, stroking the
length of her, waiting to enter.

Samantha gasped and tore her mouth from
mine. “I love you, Nina,” she breathed into my ear.

Her head arced over me to meet Fran’s, and
she kissed her. It was heart-piercingly beautiful, the way their lips met and
moved together—I was filled with an awestruck joy at their joined perfection. I
had never felt so completely safe in my life.

My lion pressed harder against me, her
hand gripping insistently as Samantha scratched lightly down between us until
she cupped my pussy in her hand, squeezing, teasing, promising—everything. Her
hips urged behind me.

Ah, but my beloved Samantha was gorgeously
wet, and when Fran gently pushed me so that I was almost half on top of
Samantha, my fingers found their mark and I slid into her cunt, tucking my
thumb under my palm so I could play with her clit.

She bit my neck as Fran crawled down my
body, nipping with her lips, light little licks with the tip of her tongue,
memory and experience merging as she mapped me. She stopped and kissed
Samantha’s hand as it lay on me, then parted my lips with her tongue.

“Oh God, Kitt…” I gasped as she sucked me
into her, and she caught my free hand, twining her fingers with mine as I
curled the hand behind me deeper into Samantha, who shuddered behind me. She
slipped an arm beneath my shoulders and around my chest, anchoring me to her.
She laved my neck with openmouth kisses, scraping her lips and tongue along
the column of my neck.

“I adore you, I fucking adore you,” she
ground out between sensual attacks, and her cunt sucked my fingers, fitting on
me as if I’d been made for her.

I cried out when her tongue entered me,
and Samantha crushed me to her, trapping me, holding me still when I tried to
ABC arch my back.

“I got you…” she assured me, and her
fingers slipped around my clit while Fran’s mouth worked me relentlessly,
driving me on and up. Her free hand wrapped loosely around the hand that drove
into Samantha, moving with me, around me, a light tickle that urged me on,
harder, faster.

Samantha shifted, her leg smoothing across
mine, entangling it between hers, opening herself further to me, spreading me
wider, and pushing my thigh against my hand, my thrust in her that much harder
as I moved under Fran.

“Damn, I
love
you, Samantha,” I
whispered, craning desperately to kiss her as the two most beautiful women I
would ever know or be this close to in this lifetime loved me and each other,
pushing me to the edge, the power behind this, this thing between us, building,
towering over me.

Her lips were instant relief to my thirsty
soul. “I want you inside me,” I told her. “I want you both inside me.”

Fran heard me and raised her head. I
caught my breath, gulping at the loss, and Samantha responded instantly,
sliding into me so I wouldn’t feel it for too long.

“
Te adoro
,” she whispered, speaking
the language of my childhood as she moved gently within me, and my cunt
welcomed her home to me, “
te amo, te adoro
.”

Fran climbed up my body, straddling my
leg, and her cunt was deliciously hot and wet, gliding along the hard muscle of
my thigh.

Her irresistible mouth kissed me, and once
again, for the last time, I enjoyed the taste of my cunt on her tongue.

“I love you, Francesca Kitt DiTomassa,” I
told her, melting into her golden eyes, “I will always love you.”

I grasped her hip with my hand as she rode
my thigh, her leg pressing between us, driving Samantha farther into me. Fran
slipped her hand between us, cupping Samantha’s hand under hers, and I could
feel her fingertips waiting to enter me.

“Baby,” she murmured, kissing me gently,
“this is going to hurt. I want to do what you want, but I don’t want to hurt
you.”

She was right, I knew she was right,
because even Samantha inside me hurt a bit.

“You are really tight, love,” she
whispered, then caught her breath when I shifted my hip slightly, causing my
fingers to reach deeper. Her hips jerked against me, and, honestly, I couldn’t
have cared less if my arm broke; I wanted this, wanted to be in her, wanted ABC
her to come.

Fran leaned across me and kissed Samantha
deeply as she shuddered against me, and my hand traveled from the curve of
Fran’s hip to her ass, and I pressed my fingers along the length of her cunt.
She groaned into Sam’s mouth, her head under my neck, and I felt Samantha
shiver as she tasted me for the first time on Fran’s lips.

“Kitt, baby,” I rasped out, losing my
voice, my breath, my mind between them, “I don’t care if it hurts, I want you.”