Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [504]
Jean-Claude’s hands slid over the front of my body, until he held my breasts. He squeezed them between his hands, squeezed them hard and sharp. I came away from his mouth with a gasp, and a sound low in my throat. “You will not hurt her, Richard.”
Richard hadn’t moved back. He was still sitting where my body had left him, his body between my knees, close enough that he could have joined Jean-Claude in the foreplay, but he just knelt there.
I stroked my hand over him, found him not as hard as he had been. I wrapped my hand around him, tight and hard. Brought a small sound from him. “I want this,” and I squeezed him again, watched his eyes lose focus, “this inside me.”
I could feel that he wanted to, but his fears held him closer than any lover’s arms ever would. I let go of him and turned with a cry to Jean-Claude. I felt suddenly half-crazed with need. A need to have someone inside me. Jean-Claude hadn’t fed yet, but there was still something I could do for my own pleasure. I turned my back on Richard, and laid a light kiss on Jean-Claude’s mouth, but that wasn’t what I wanted. He rose up on his knees as if he knew where I was headed.
I licked my way down his body, and his hand on the back of mine, guided me to him. I drew him into my mouth, and the texture of him so small, so loose, was wonderful. I sucked him, rolled him with my tongue. Small, I could have my way with him, and not have to fight for it. I sucked him as hard and fast as I could, in and out, in and out, until he cried out above me. I used my hand to lift the loose tenderness of his balls up, so I could draw them gently into my mouth. It was hard having all of him in my mouth at once, even this small, there was barely room. I had to be so careful of him, so careful, not to hurt him, not to crush such delicate pieces. Like rolling some precious priceless work of art between your teeth. When I didn’t trust myself not to bite down on those tender bits, I spilled them out of my mouth. But I kept that soft, flexible, givable, forgiveable bit to roll and coax, until he cried out above me, and his body thrust forward, but he couldn’t complete it. I could have teased him all night, and he couldn’t have finished it. I was ready to offer to open a vein myself, when I felt hands on my hips.
I felt Richard push himself against my body. He wasn’t soft now, he was oh, so hard. He kept one hand on my hip, and used the other to guide himself in. He pushed against the opening in my body.
I started to raise up, but Jean-Claude’s hand pushed on my head, kept me where I was, kept my mouth wrapped around his body, sucking him deep into my mouth, as Richard pushed his way into my body. I was wetter now, more open, but Richard still had to work his way in, push, and shove, for each tight, wet, inch. The feel of him inside me forced small sounds from my throat, made me whimper and moan, all of it with Jean-Claude still in my mouth.
Richard pushed his way in, until there was no more. Until he hit the end of me, and had nowhere to go but to draw himself back out of me, slowly, so slowly. I didn’t want slowly. I wanted fast. I wanted hard. I wanted Richard at his best, not this careful dance.
I raised my head up off of Jean-Claude, and this time he let me, but he kept his hand against my hair. I raised up enough to gaze back over my body and see Richard there on his knees. Seeing him with his body inside of me, rolled my eyes shut for a moment, but the feel of all that thick potential being so carefully used, made me want to scream at him.
“Fuck me, Richard.”
He looked at me, and the control on his face in his body, stopped for a moment. He looked at me, and said, “Anita.”
“Fuck me,” I said, “fuck me, God, fuck me, just fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please, please, please just fuck me.”
“I am.”
I shook my head, hard enough to send my hair flying around my face.