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Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [6]

By Root 510 0
I’ve had today, and you look that stricken that my girlfriend would only do standard bed sex?”

I tried to put into words what I was thinking, not always my best thing. “You love sex. You’re good at it.”

“Why, gee, thanks.” He grinned.

I gave him a look, but kept talking. I was going to finish this thought, damn it. “Sex is one of the most personal things we do as people. To have someone who says she loves you limit how you express yourself in the bedroom is like a small death. It kills the soul.”

The grin left his face, then his eyes. He stared at me, and there Jason was, that part of him that he hid from most people. Heck, that he hid most of the time. He let me see that there was a good mind and a deep thinker inside those usually smiling blue eyes. It made him look sad, and older, but I valued that look. I valued that he let me see him all the way down.

“How did you get to be so smart?” he said, softly.

“I have smart friends who give me good advice sometimes.” I smiled. “Sometimes I even take it.”

He smiled back and ran his hands down my back. “So, you’d really let me pick where we make love?”

I nodded.

“Just because I haven’t had a choice in a while.”

“Yes.”

“What if I want something too freaky?”

“Then I’ll say no, and you can back it down a little.”

His eyes had that solemn look again. He searched my face. “You mean it.”

I put my hands on either side of his face and nodded. “I try not to say things I don’t mean, Jason.” I put a soft kiss at the end of the sentence.

He moved his hand lower on my back to press us closer together. Close enough that I could feel that his body was already happier than when we hugged last.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. He looked at Nathaniel. “Do you have a preference?”

“You’re the guest.”

Jason lifted me off the floor with a hug. We were both short enough that I was in no danger of hitting the doorjamb. “I love you guys; you make me feel less weird about myself.”

“Why, because we’re weirder?” I asked.

“No,” he said, laughing up at me, “because your relationship works. It just flat works for you guys. You make me feel that out there somewhere is someone weird enough to make me happy.”

“I’d rather not do the bathroom,” Nathaniel said, “it takes forever to dry my hair.”

Jason let me down, so I was standing on the floor again. “I’m leaning toward the living room.”

“There are chairs, and the couch has a back and arms,” Nathaniel said.

“How sturdy is the coffee table?”

“Not that sturdy,” Nathaniel said.

I’d caught on. “No, not sturdy enough to have sex on.”

“Start in the living room, move to the bedroom?” Jason said, making it a question.

I looked at Nathaniel. He nodded, and gave a little shrug.

“Deal,” I said.

2

THEY HAD A disagreement on whether I should leave my heels on or take them off. Nathaniel voted for on; Jason wanted off. Jason’s point was, “I want to go down on her, and the heels will hurt.”

Nathaniel’s point was, “Yeah, the heels hurt, what’s your point?”

I settled the argument this way. “Whoever is doing the oral sex on me gets his preference on the shoes.”

“Lose the shoes,” Jason said, and there was a look in his face that tightened things low in my body without him touching me at all.

I lost the shoes. They lay on their side in the dimness of the living room. The only light was what spilled in from the kitchen doorway. I stood in front of the couch, while they moved the coffee table far to one side of the room.

Jason came back and dropped to his knees in front of me. He gazed up at me with one half of his face lit, the other in darkness. The look in the one eye I could clearly see made me shiver.

Nathaniel came to the end of the couch and took his shorts off in one smooth motion. My pulse was in my throat at the sight of him nude in the darkened room. He let the shorts fall to the floor.

Jason’s hands slid up my legs, underneath my skirt, and I was back to staring down at him. His hands caressed the hose up to my thighs, went up, oh, so gently, until he found the lace tops of the thigh highs. He traced the very top of the lace,

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